japanese yankee

Yankee are bad boys in Japan?
"Yankee teacher returns to his old school"....This is a Japanese TV drama that originated with a real story. Is it an American guy's story? No, no, no. The story goes like this, a Japanese guy, Hiroyuki Yoshiie was such a bad boy in his high school days, he returned his old school as teacher and taught the bad boys in his class stopping them from being bad. This is his documentary show in English. Ha ha the title was changed to "Returns of Rebel". In Japan, we call bad boys and girls yankee. I wonder if American people will feel uncomfortable about this, and now I remember a Turkish bath story.
We call"sexual clubs" TORUKO BURO = Turkey bath. It was because Turkey was famous for their sauna baths. In 1984 one small article was published on the Yomiuri. It was a Turkish student in Tokyo University protest we named "sexual club" from Turkey. One day he went around downtown, and he found his land name "Turkey" written in colourful neon. He opened the door of the shop thinking of his mother land, then he was welcomed by a half nude Japanese woman. He complaned strongly to the shop but he realized it was not the name of the shop, that it was a more general term for sex clubs. In the article he appealed and said that Japan should change the name. It worked fine, and led to Japan changed the term "Turky bath" into "soap land" everywehere in Japan. (My American friend misunderstood: Soapland is just a clean place like a public bath or something and said "Let's go to soapland!" loudly in public and embarrassed his friends. Yeah Japan has no sense for naming maybe. )
Anyway we call bad boys and girls yankee. Here is some yankee samples. In Tokyo area they tend to wear street fashions. In the country, they tend to wear cheap colourful trainers. This is an online shop of a yankee magazine, This game is "Run! Soul of Yankee", actually "country" crazy drivers group; Bosozoku are our typical image for yankee too. Actually it is far from American Yankee. Why we call them Yankee? I checked internet derivation dictionary. They said in the 70s-80s in Osaka area, people called Yankee bad boys who walked around downtown, because they wore colourful Aloha shirts and pants in the American village. But Yankee was not only an American Fashion, in Osaka area people say "yanke" at the end of a word, it is a sort of a dialect. This caused the name of Yankee too. Japan Times use this American yankee and this Japanese yankee differently, so they use "Yankii" for Japanese on their web site

The day started out pretty quiet. The director had finally decided to let some sunshine into our concrete dome of a studio sky. It was early spring, flowers were blooming, birds singing, crows cawing. The office windows had been opened to let the cool breeze in. The first and second year teachers and students were on vacation, along with kocho and kyoto sensei. This left me with the third year teachers and the unrestrained cheerfulness that settles over a school whenever there's a break in routine, or the bosses leave. But, it was still a typical day.
Or so I thought....
My stuffed shirt JTE had lately been showing uncharacteristic signs of affability. He'd not only been asking for my input and ideas, but he'd actually been using them. And the weirdness continues...Because I sit with the second year teachers, next to kyoto sensei's desk, I am on the other side of the office from said third year teachers. I was quietly whiling away the time staring at the Japanese book on my desk, when suddenly, stick-up-my-youknowhere sensei invited me to sit with the third year teachers and practice conversation! What? Who? Where? Me?! There was a niggling suspicion in the back of my head that he was using the same strange over cheerful attitude he uses on his comatose students, but since its irrelevant to the story, I won't go into it. Some of these teachers had never even talked to me. The others I talked to only briefly. Including said JTE who's always busy in his own hypertension bubble. So I sat down at an empty desk, and he announced that it was Japanese conversation time. The teacher next to me promptly announced that she doesn't understand English. Huh? He repeated that its JAPANESE time. She again said, 'Eigo wo wakkanai!'. This is standard fare when someone is nervous about talking to the foreigner. I think its some twisted byproduct of JET and the eikaiwa schools. Japanese people now have a pavlovian response when they see foreigners, 'Oh no! An English teacher! Don't call on me, don't call on me, I'm gonna flunk, oh no, I don't know the answer! "EIGO O WAKKANAI!!"'. I often hear this little refrain follow me when I walk down the street. This can often work to our advantage, door to door sales people often apologize and leave upon seeing a foreign face, and replying in English will often scare off the braver ones. But its also quite annoying. When I hear it floating behind me on the street I want to stop and say, "Hey, I don't care if you can't speak English! I'm not your teacher! What makes you think I'd even want to talk to you?" I'd say it in Japanese of course. Or German. (If I spoke German.) That'd show 'em. But then, if I did speak German, I'd probably just tell them, 'Hey, I don't speak English either! nice to meet you!'
I am getting way off the story line here.
So I am sitting there, busting out a meager conversation with the sannen teachers. (Meager not because of my Japanese ability, but because of my conversation ability.) The sannen desks are right next to the office's sliding glass doors, by the way. So there's some conversation, a nervous fidget, a 'wakkanai', when suddenly! What's that noise? Oh, just the steady approach of a motor bike. They should get their muffler fixed. Being that my town has its own local 'bike' gang, one of whom goes to work at 6:50 every morning. ( I could set my clock by this guy) I thought nothing of the bike's roar, or the doom da doom music playing in the background.
With an agility I've never seen before, four teachers jumped up and ran outside. I got up to follow and see what the fuss was about, but I was stopped by an invisible barrier just outside the door. 'Ahh, I still have my inside shoes on!'. I realized it must be serious since no one stopped to change shoes. Whoever it was was now on the street in front of school, hidden from view by the wall and plants. I could tell they were cruising back and forth, moving with what I'd guess is the speed of a large demented white shark hunting for prey. I stood on the doorstep with one other teacher, straining to catch a glimpse. Three teachers had disappeared beyond the wall, and one had called the cops. But then, it got closer, and closer, until...OOOH! No! What's he doing?!! He's in the school's drive!! And..And.. He's driving really really..SLOW!! Its so so LOUD!! Look at that scooter! And those clothes! Who is it? What is it?! He's a, a, YANKEE BOY!!
OH! A YANKEE BOY! A yankee boy? huh? I had no idea what a yankee boy was, but there he was, in all his glory. A clean little scooter, one pant leg rolled up, helmet securely fastened, and the ramrod straight posture of a Texas beauty queen.
What exactly is a Yankee boy? A social misfit, punk kid? A rebel? Is he subversively challenging the system through noise pollution and safe driving? Heck if I know. I suppose he'd count as a rebel, but I don't know how rebellious one can be if he's just like every other yankee boy in Japan. And, where'd they come up with that name anyway? Whatever he was trying to do, he apparently succeeded. The teachers were pissed, their inside shoes exposed to the elements, our calm was disrupted, noise was spewed and he took off just in time to avoid the police.
I wonder what the teachers thought they could do when they ran into the street. Yell futilely at someone whose main goal was to disrupt our work and attract attention? Tell him to slow down? Poke him with a stick? I suppose the police could have cited him for a noise disturbance or whatnot, maybe ticket him for driving under the speed limit, or tell him sternly to cut his hair.
One teacher asked me if we had Yankee boys in America. Well...we have a baseball team full of Yankees, does that count?
The Yankee boy was soon gone and we returned to our quiet day and conversation. The teachers unreservedly tracked their soiled shoes back inside, much to my dismay. Why sweep the floor if their just gonna track it all up again? sheesh. Over coffee everyone grumbled about what a jerk and an idiot he was. (the yankee boy, not the dirty shoed teacher). My already good mood became that much better. I must admit I found the whole think quite entertaining. I also have to admit that as an American yankee myself, I have a begrudging respect for any rebels in this strict structured society. Even those who drive really slow and roll a pant leg up. I don't really have any begrudging respect though, for the insomniatic bike gang that lives on my street. Webmaster: Me Email: tarachan@bonbon.net Assistant webmaster: Mr. PeepersEmail: bot@primate.com