Welcome to the Club

A few years ago some kids asked me to sponsor an anime club. "We'll run it," they assured me, "we just need a room and a teacher after school." Never a big fan of anime, unless you count the original Speed Racer series, I agreed anyway, assuming that it would be a relatively quiet hour I could spend working while they were watching. 

I couldn't have been more wrong! That anime club was a gathering of loud kids engaging in cosplay and other reenactments of the marginally inappropriate shows they tried to sneak by me. My role involved much more active supervision and contention than I expected, and I ended up with a splitting headache at the end of every meeting. 

Thankfully, COVID put an end to that club; by the time we were back at school in person for extracurriculars, the founders had moved on the high school, and another teacher agreed to sponsor the new anime club, which always seems much more tame whenever I happen past.

Today a couple of boys asked me if I would sponsor a new club, a Dungeons and Dragons Club. I confess that I have never played D&D, not even once, but I did grow up in the 70s, attend college in the 80s, and I have seen Stranger Things. I'm intrigued.

How bad could it be?

Speed Bump

I was sitting in the comfy chair next to my colleague's desk when the dismissal bell didn't ring this afternoon. They had turned all the bells off for state testing, and without that common clarion of freedom, the halls were quite a bit less chaotic as teachers dismissed their classes on a more natural, rolling basis. Friday afternoon stretched agreeably ahead.

Even so, a few minutes later, I heard a commotion outside the room. Strident voices were met with the even tone of the social studies teacher. It sounded like it might be near my classroom next door, but from where I sat, I couldn't see what was going on, nor could I quite make out what they were saying. There were a lot of "she's" though, accusatory from the kids, and explanatory from the teacher.

Suddenly it dawned on me what they were discussing.

"Shit!" I swore. "I'm late for Anime Club!"

Beggars and Choosers

"Can I have some candy?" a student demanded after school today.

I never comply with such impolite requests, but today with my head pounding courtesy of the Anime Club, I was even more short than usual. "No!" I snapped and returned to my work.

"Why not?" she whined.

I looked up over my glasses at her and took a deep breath. "Because it's rude to ask people for things. You should wait until I offer."

"You never offer!" she scoffed.

"You never offer anything, either," I told her.

"What can I offer?" she asked with some irritation.

"Look around," I shrugged. "Think of ways you could be helpful."

To her credit, she considered my words, and in very short time, the room was more tidy than it had been. The chairs were pushed in, stray papers and books were returned to their designated places. "How do you like it?" she asked, flourishing her arm.

"I like it!" I answered. "Would you care for a piece of candy?"

"Yes!" she replied, and then cut her eyes at me. "But, can I have two?"

"Nope," I answered.

Just then, the bell rang, but the Anime Club members lingered loudly, despite my hearty wishes of Have a good weekend! and See you later!

The student took matters into her own hands. "Anime Club!" she shouted. "Leave! Leave! Leave!"

"Gah! You don't have to be so harsh!" they grumbled as they filed out the door.

"Thank you!" I nodded at the candy kid in appreciation.  "And for that?" I continued, "You can have 2 pieces of candy!"

Members Only

It started with a student request. She wanted to start an anime club, but needed a room and an adult to supervise. Would I do it? she asked. Most of my afternoons are already filled with meetings and other commitments, but I have a hard time not supporting kids who want to create something on their own. Such initiative seems like the most authentic application of the lessons we are trying to teach. Even so, it was reluctance that I agreed, and only in the event that they could find no one else to take on the responsibility. Plus, I don't even like Anime that much.

And so it was that on Friday afternoons from 2:30 to 3:30 I found myself at the epicenter of 15-20 tweens eating chips, texting their friends, and watching Yuri on Ice or My Hero Academia or the like, and SCREAMING!

"Guys! Guys! Guys!" I tried to shout over them, putting the video on pause. "It's cool that you love this so much! It's not cool for you to scream!"

In response, they screamed more quietly. And at 3:30 this afternoon as the Anime Club literally screamed out my door, several of my colleagues stopped by.

"What a crew!" said the first. "Bless your heart!"

"Look at you!" said the next. "Kids that never say a word in class are screaming and laughing in here!"

"Are they driving you crazy?" asked the third.

I smiled weakly, and the throbbing in my head ebbed with the kinder, gentler company. "It's their club," I said, "I just give them the space and my adult presence." Then we laughed.

It used to be that Friday afternoon was a quiet time for me to either look ahead to the coming week, or quietly reflect on the week that has just passed. Now it's just a good time to recover from the Anime Club.