I think I've mentioned the koncho once or twice or before. It's when students - usually the lower grades of elementary school, and almost always male - make a gun shape with their thumb and forefinger. They then proceed to shove their imaginary gun up where the sun don't shine. It's the Japanese equivalent of the wedgie, with one small difference: no one is exempt.

For whatever reason, I was in the classroom before the bell, the time when, free of teacher authority, the kids are doing their best zoo impersonation. Just like when I was in school. But instead of a wedgie - the worst one I remember being up over my head - I recieved the koncho of my life. It felt like someone shoved a beer bottle up there. Anyway, I grabbed the young offender by the hand and squeezed, hard. Told him that if he ever did that again I would break his hand, twisted for dramatic effect. He seemed to understand.

Nonetheless, I felt embarassed, violated even. Might have had something to do with the running-blood feeling I had coming from my bunghole. Embarassment gave way to anger. I figured the best thing was to wait it out, talk to Y.-sensei about the situation.

Over lunch, Y. told me that there was nothing that could be done. I explained about Canadian procedure as I remember it - pull the kid from the room, take him to the principal's office, call his parents, maybe kick him out of school for the day. But here, nothing. "Many kids are disrespectful and say violent words, but there is nothing we can do. We can get angry, but that's all." He told me that he had been koncho-ed once this year, by a girl! Other than yell, there was nothing he could do.

Since I'm unable to yell in Japanese, Y. offered to do it for me. He called the little bugger down from lunch, and I got my apolgy. The kid looked like he was going to puke from guilt. He knew he screwed up big-time, so I told him that this was the last time something like this would ever happen, and that it would never be OK, that no amount of apolgy would make it OK. He really meant his sorry, so we bowed, shook hands, and let bygones be bygones.

But my ass still hurts. My only hope is that there's one less koncho-er out there tomorrow.