“Eeto …” her eyes search the ceiling. She answers in English this time. “First thing: I want to travel abroad. Second thing: I want to marry — ah, I want to get married. Ah, third thing: I want to have a baby.”

“Those are all good answers, but, since you studied in Australia, you’ve already travelled abroad. Is there anything else you’d like to do in the future?”

Staring at me, Misaki tilts her head back and forth several times until Lieko translates for her a third time. They have a brief discussion in Japanese about how important it is to work, get married, and have babies, until Lieko turns to me and says, “She didn’t understand your question. I think we should end the interview here.”

I can’t help but agree. We all bow and shake hands. Misaki holds my hand like I’ve handed her a soggy Kleenex. “Anou ne,” Misaki says. “May I ask a question? You are from America?”

“No, I’m Canadian.”

“Ah. But this Zozo school, has teacher from America?”

“Um … no?”

“Eh? Why?”

Lieko explains to her that I’m the only Native English Teacher at our branch. They have a brief conversation over the fact that the company hires teachers from other countries, not just the U.S., before Misaki finally bows her thanks to everyone and leaves.

Manager is glad to see her go. He rants in Japanese to every other co-worker who comes close: how will she speak to the students in English, what is Head Office playing at, how will we ever get up to quota, she should get herself a husband and sign her own babies up for lessons if she wants to help us out so much … Oh well. I guess Misaki did not impress him.

Once I clear the bench of all my props and paperwork, I hear the elevator doors open and my two kindergarten girls scream hello. We spend the first part of our lesson singing the “Hello Song” and the “Welcome Song” with my Jibanyan hand puppet, who holds up flash cards for them to shout out English vocabulary. For every word they say correctly, I put a magnetic star on the whiteboard beside their names. Then we make cookies and cupcakes out of pastel-coloured playdough and talk about desserts over cups of imaginary tea. They talk to each other and to me in Japanese and I reply in English. That’s how our playtime usually goes.

Momoko pokes my leg. “Sensei, jack-o’-lantern wa aru no?”

“I don’t,” I tell her. “But we can get one. Do you want a jack-o’-lantern?”

“Yay, jack-o’-lantern! I love jack-o’-lantern!” Motoka throws her donut in the air by accident. We spend the rest of class having a food fight with our desserts. For earning so many stars beside their names, I award the girls two stickers each.