New term

Back teaching this week after my month-long stint reporting on the 'Land of Level 7' as Fox News will no doubt soon begin calling us. While my coverage has been as hard-edged and recklessly brave as ever, unfortunately my teaching skills have rapidly deteriorated. It's a bit like coming back to GAA spring training after a long winter lay off which was spent mainly at the pub, or in front of the TV, or on Monday nights and Sky Soccer, both.
You feel flabby, out of sorts, unable even to do the basic stuff like manage the classroom, issue instructions and put the fear of a gaijin god into the impressionable first year students. My Japanese is a constant fumble for elusive meaning, my class introductions are laboured and rambling, and I am met with polite incomprehension. I feel like Rocky, the first one, right down to the need to get into teaching shape by drinking two raw eggs every morning and pounding the bloody pulp out of sides of beef down the local Muroran meat packers.
Well, actually I don't. Rather I swallow some fish oil tablets (with added EPA! Yeah! Come on!! You want some of this?! Huh! Huh!), and whilst humming the 'dah, dah, dah, dah, dah, da-da- dah..' theme tune, jog up the, well, okay, walk, slowly, up the stairs to my fifth floor office. But the dream is still the same. You know, to be boxing heavyweight champion of the world in the future conditional. And then make pairs and tell your partner why.
Anyway, the snow has been replaced by gentle rain, the temperatures are nudging double figures and there's this strange green stuff beginning to appear on the trees and ground. I think the technical term for it all is 'spring'.

Gaynor sensei in training. (Note: Dog not his own. Wife won't allow it).