Once Bitten

From a student’s homework:

My son practice the kendo, that is traditional Japanese sport using a wood sord [sic]. He always come home after practice with crying because he was bitten by his teacher for learning the Japanese samurai’s spirit. 

“For,” is a tricky beast, with about as many grammatical uses as an octopus has legs. For example: I took the train bound for Shiba for the express purpose of visiting my family for New Year’s Eve. I brought a bottle of shochu for my grandfather, who I was named for. I searched for a way to greet him and, for lack of a better term, settled on, “you old drunk.” He cried, “What kind of man do you take me for? For one thing, I haven’t had a drink in hours!” Then he bit me for my impertinence. My foot hurt, but I was ready for repentance for I conceded that I had been a naughty girl. Speaking for myself and the rest of my family, for a man with wooden teeth, my grandfather’s bite packs a punch.

After some deliberation, my student and I concluded that his son’s kendo teacher defeats him in order to teach him the samurai spirit and doesn’t, in fact, go cannibal on him as punishment for doing something he should have been doing all along.