Supplies & Demand

Face it. The best thing about going back to school was shopping for supplies. Roaming the wide aisles of Office Mart, the whole year seem so fresh, so organized, so possible. Five-subject notebooks and three-ring binders were staples of students. Stocking up on supplies was a motivational exercise despite knowing full well that a month later you’d be searching for incomplete homework in a folder bursting with papers across five subjects.

When you’re a teacher in Japan, however, the supplies come to you. Two days following the footwear misstep on my first day, I was inventorying inherited junk in the desk drawers. I’ll list last year’s leftovers from most useful to most disturbing:

• Scotch tape


• Chopsticks


• Pliers


• Burberry-patterned scarf


• Old batteries


• Frisbee


• Coloring book of the 50 states


• “Fifty-Fifty” English learning cassette


• Biology for Dummies


• Martial arts gloves


• Punctured ping-pong ball


• Soiled socks


• Empty box of Durex

A supply guy was making the rounds in the teachers’ room. 1 folder, 1 glue stick, 1 binder clip, 1 tiny box of paper clips, 1 black pen, 1 red pen, 1 unsharpened pencil, 1 eraser - item after item he delivered to the desktops of new teachers. Veterans presumably had enough ink and clips from last year, or were on their own for foraging. Despite my looking green, my desk remained empty as yellow plastic chalk cases found new masters. Possession of a chalk case is the ultimate accessory to feel part of the teacher’s circle.

Not confident to speak up in Japanese, I looked around to see if anyone else was witnessing the injustice. Across from me, another new foreign teacher smirked while twirling his unsharpened pencil. Missing out on the correction fluid pen, however, was the last straw. I had to have it.

The metallic clinking of the ball inside was the sound of productivity. Sort of like a mating call in the jungle, shaking the pen announced something authoritative – that you were perfecting the details of an important project.

“Sumimasen,” I said softly to the man as he was in mid-delivery over a neighboring desk. I didn’t know what else to say once I got his attention. I just pointed to my desk and put on a face that pouted, “Yeah, I’m new here too – just like the three other foreigners receiving supplies.”

He apologized (profusely), and caught me up to stock. I waved the white out pen at my co-worker with a celebratory rattle.