I came back from my third period class with the sanensei and found myself seated next to fish.

Did I take a wrong turn past the window, somehow go down the stairs and walk a few miles to the nearest supermarket? No, rather, the market had made its way to the teachers’ room. On the floor to the right of my desk were rows of fish shrink-wrapped in plastic and lying in gray plastic boxes. And in true Japanese fashion, the fish were complete with eyes and tails. It wasn’t just fish. There was some squid, and some nori, and some pinkish-yellowish stuff that might be kimchi. Some rounder stuff that might have been mushrooms in a sauce. There was a man standing next to the groceries, he had a table upon which he offered samples of squid and green gummy-looking seaweed on toothpicks.

According to the English teacher to my left, this man comes in a few times a year to sell fish to the teachers. It is not uncommon for businesses to solicit teachers while they are working. We often have men and women dressed in suits approach us at our desks and hand us promotional fliers and catalogs. The first time it happened, I wanted to jump up and shout, “What the fuck are you doing? This is a school! Do you have permission to be here? Get the fuck out of here! I’m working!” But all the other teachers accepted the handouts with a casual “Ah… domo.” So I settled down and tried not to glare at them when they came to my desk. Actually, most of them skip over my desk. I don’t know if it’s because they don’t want to bother with the gaijin or they can sense my anxious hostility.

The entire room has a bit of a fishy smell now.