The Story of the Grade-Chasing Bug

Before telling this story, I would like to share some background from my childhood through middle school. When I was in elementary school, I was obsessed with the Famicom (Nintendo Entertainment System), and as soon as I returned from school, I would play games on the Famicom with my older brother. My parents were both working: my father was a worker at a family-run factory, and my mother worked at a hospital. During the bubble economy of the 1980s, it was quite rare for both parents to be working. Since my parents were not home on weekdays, my house became a hangout spot for my classmates. There were always conversations like, "Lend me that Famicom cartridge," "Let me play that game," or "Can I read this week’s Jump magazine?"

Nowadays, having both parents working is normal, but back then it was unusual. Since my mother was not home after school, she didn’t manage my studies or daily life. Around fourth grade, my classmates started attending preparatory schools for junior high entrance exams, but I was engrossed in games at home. I have no memory of my parents encouraging me to take such exams, and I didn’t even know that attending a private school from junior high was a societal expectation. As a result, my academic skills continued to decline.

My homeroom teacher in fifth and sixth grade was Ms. T, a woman who, while very problematic herself, was a classic example of a “monster teacher.” She was always hysterical, and when I scored poorly on a test, she would shout in front of the entire class things like, "This is why you only get 30 points!" or "People who are overweight can’t manage their own lives!" Today, such behavior would cause a major scandal. Being labeled as someone who couldn’t get good grades made me a child with very low self-esteem.

When I entered middle school, I realized I needed to improve my declining academic performance. I decided to work hard in spite of my limited abilities. From around the winter of my first year, I began achieving top grades in my class, and I was able to maintain stable performance thereafter. I gradually regained my confidence, despite being scolded with phrases like, "This is why you only get 30 points!" However, there was still a remark from a teacher that I could never forget—this was from my third-year homeroom teacher, Mr./Ms. Y.

The story I want to tell is about this teacher. I had been studying English at a private tutoring school since fourth grade, so I could write and speak reasonably well, and my school grades were good. One Saturday around May of the first semester, while talking to my homeroom teacher in the staff room, Y said something I couldn’t understand: "Aren’t you only thinking about getting points?" I had no idea what that meant. After a long silence, all I could respond with was, "I’m not." I wish I had had the language skills and knowledge at that time to argue back. Even now, I sometimes think I should have just punched them once. After that, Y repeatedly called me a "grade-chasing bug," which left me bewildered.

I once consulted my mother about this a few times. But she never contacted the school or made any complaints. Her response was, "I don’t know what that means." Essentially, she probably thought it was too much trouble to contact the school and, even if there was a problem, it was fine to just let me attend. That’s what she considered "leaving it alone." Come to think of it, even when I achieved good grades, I was never praised.

At that time in society, schools were seen as sacred, teachers as noble professionals, and whatever a teacher said was considered correct—a sort of unquestioning trust in public institutions was the background for Japanese people. Today, however, with the internet, teacher misconduct, incidents, and inappropriate behavior are reported immediately.

Y was extremely unpopular among students, and English classes didn’t function as real lessons. There were no explanations of grammatical terms; I had never even heard the term "relative pronoun" from Y. Y was a textbook example of a bad teacher, with no classroom management skills.

In public middle schools, these problems can occur. In private schools, since students pay tuition, they can complain if there is an issue. But in public schools, funded by everyone’s taxes (including local residents), the relationship between teachers and students can be ambiguous.

When I failed my high school entrance exams and gave my final report to Y, they inexplicably broke down in tears in front of me. I still haven’t figured out why someone who had insulted me so much would cry only at that moment. In short, Y probably disliked me. They were bothered by the fact that I didn’t pay much attention in class but still got good grades on tests.

Life is a series of encounters, and meeting Y taught me the following:

Being a school teacher doesn’t guarantee being a good educator

An English teacher isn’t necessarily proficient in English

Have the courage to question public institutions