“Look. I know that I fit the demographic who is out for action, but I can assure you that I’m a happily married woman who just happens to have an interest in French culture,” says Seisekisakuragaoka resident, Kiyomi Hatanai.
I’ve asked Hatanai whether it’s true that every female French language student longs to get down to business with her teacher. In my defence, she fits the bill. Married with two children in junior high school, she now has time on her hands to do what she wants. She’s still attractive, and she still has the desire to improve her pretty impressive language skills.
“It seems that every role play involves me standing up and moving around the room. I know these lecherous French guys just want to check me out and I guess I’m a fool for going along with it. They’re all married to bunny boilers who saw France as a kind of magical place where sophistication reigned and accordion music was played ever so gracefully.
“These kind of women will see their bubble burst when they realise that their husband was just an overeating lazy guy with nothing to offer, who sweats garlic in his sleep. I feel the sadness and desperation in the male teachers’ disposition. They don’t get any respect at home. I guess if I can’t excite them with some lingering eye-contact and a smile, then I’ll lose my sense of femininity. That’s all I’ll give them though. Let me make myself clear; my husband is a rock climber, so he’s far more masculine than any of those X-box addicted teachers.
“I like Sylvie Vartan, Bridget Bardot, and Beatrice Dahl. I never got excited over Alan Delon or John-Paul Belmondo, so these run-of-the-mill French guys aren’t going to get me wet. My teachers don’t seem to get that, unfortunately. Sometimes I’ll deliberately frustrate them by discussing Tintin or Baa Baa the Elephant, because I know the French man is much more comfortable gently caressing the conversation towards anything sexual.”
Emmanuel Benaud, a teacher who is employed at the school which Hatanai attends (although he is yet to teach her formally), sat down with me at a well-known bakery in Suginami ku which features a stylish, yet small, dine-in area. The 44 year old from Lyon showed concern over the image of all French language teachers being a bunch of pants men giving female students a jolly good rogering in secluded areas of the school during seasonal parties. “Let’s ask ourselves; what exactly happens in a French language classroom?” asked the dashing grammar expert.
“What comes out of my classroom? Let me tell you the answer; French speakers emerge from my classroom. It makes my job a joy rather than a drudgery. This is something objectively good, seeing a different spirit emerge out of the same soul. It’s something that simply cannot be reduced to numbers and data. Every sentence begins with a thought. Just like if you want to build a house; you must first imagine that house in your mind. A thought is a spiritual reality. And then you manifest it in another language, and not just any language.
“We’re talking about the language of the auteurs, the revolutionaries, and the raconteurs. It’s a way of bringing cultures and worlds together. This is the original glory of the vocal arts and, when you see the flower in the garden bloom, it is only natural to become incredibly aroused simply from the satisfaction of observing the achievement. It’s a biblical experience, and you must never judge a language teacher for overstepping the line once you are aware of such context.”
