“Really?” A staff meeting — with me? After six and a half years? About time. Maybe now I can finally find out what is going on with our school and feel like a crucial cog in the eikaiwa machine again.

“Yes! But you don’t have. Only Japanese teacher, and Bucho. So, when you have lunch, please take your time.”

“Really?” My voice is dejected this time. I finished all my prep work for the week on Tuesday. What am I supposed to do for three hours? Take a nap?

I escort the boys down the hall toward Room Five. Yuta shows off his new Squirtle rain poncho and Toshiro demands stickers for the two pages he coloured in for homework. We head into the classroom and do a few preliminary bubbles. Then I hear Lieko’s high-pitched voice.

“Hitomu-kun! Let’s enjoy English!”

“Yada! Yada yada YADAAAAAAAAA!”

Yuta and Toshiro turn toward each other, letting the last of the bubbles fall to the carpet. “Are wa nandarou?” they wonder.

“Cybelle!” Lieko glides into the room. “Hitomu is here for your lesson! Say, ‘Hello,’ Hitomu!” Hitomu does not appear. All I can hear past the door is the sound of him struggling in someone’s arms to escape and his horrified, diaphragmatic screams. “Yuta, Toshiro, meet Hitomu! He will have this class with you. Please help him in Cybelle’s lesson, okay?”

“Wait — I have all three of them?”

“Yes, Cybelle! And we will enjoy English very much!” she sings. “You may start the lesson. I will bring Hitomu-kun! And please, when he comes in, please do not talk to him. I will help him.”

“But —”

“You just teach Yuta and Toshiro. Hitomu is too afraid of you. If you talk to him, you will only make things worse. Just keep doing the lesson. Hitomu is my job.” She bounds out the door singing words of English encouragement.

This is bullshit. This is bullshit on a stick. Again, I wonder who the hell orchestrated this recipe for disaster. But for Yuta and Toshiro’s sakes, I will get through the lesson bright and cheery. I made a promise to myself, and I plan on sticking to it no matter how many xenophobic children this company throws at me.

We hold hands for the greeting songs and do a few rounds of “Ring Around the Rosy” while Hitomu thrashes and cries in Lieko’s arms in one corner of the room. His screaming, combined with our dancing round in a circle, starts to make the room spin, so I direct everyone to sit on the floor. We learn a few new animal words with giant flash cards, and then we practise counting.

When I high-five Toshiro he catches and holds my hand. He whispers in Japanese: “Belle-teacher, what’s wrong with Hitomu?”

Yuta suggests Hitomu wants his mother. “Mama ni aitai?”