The Christmas Cage

I’m stretched out in a room probably no more than 3m by 2m to whatever extent my 188cm frame can manage, still in a country over 6000 miles from the land of my birth. I'm somewhat propped up against a mound of blankets that will form my bed tonight, computer on my lap, and I’m munching on some free fruit-filled chocolates. I have not a stitch of clothing to my name except that which is on my back. It’s Christmas Eve. I defy you to truthfully say you’re having a better time than me right now.

No, I’m not in prison. I’m in Yokohama, on the 3rd night of an adventure through the big cities over winter break. This started with...with an advertisement for a job fair, if I recall correctly. Some time ago, my buddy Mike found this career fair-esque thing taking place in Tokyo proper a few days before Christmas. It seemed to imply that it was geared toward foreigners in Japan, such as us, who speak English natively and have a reasonable grasp of Japanese. Admission was free, so we applied and I found us a bus down to Tokyo. My awesome friend Tomoko, who lives in Tokyo and is currently a grad student in the field of biochemistry, found us a comfortable place to stay that was a good $15/night cheaper than anything I came across. Reservations were made, tickets were purchased, and we were all clear for launch.

The journey began with but a single step, a few clichéd turns of phrase, and *shudder* a night bus to Ikebukuro. This was the cheapest (and thus in our opinion at the time, the wisest) method of transportation from Odate in the northern reaches of Akita to slightly more colonized regions of Japan. What foolish mortals we were. The bus was maybe $25 less than a plane to Haneda airport in Tokyo and a full eight times longer, on seats that would enrage PETA if they were placed in zoo cages. Well, okay, technically the did recline, but they had nothing resembling leg room or pillowy head padding. The result was a night of hour-long catnaps and a bus full of disgruntled, confused, stiff-necked, bitchy Akitans in downtown Tokyo at 7:30 in the morning. The picture could have only been more complete if we had brought our torches and pitchforks.

Once we had brushed (most of) the hay off our overalls and sent Cletus to fetch firewood and a few squirrels for stew, we began to seriously consider our new surroundings. Priorities included caffeine and breakfast, in no particular order but preferably at the exact same time. It was no more than a few minutes of wandering down the sidewalk when we practically steamrolled into Mike and Stacie, a couple (as in, two people and romantically involved) of JETs from Akita who were on the way to catch a plane to Vietnam for their own winter vacation. Well, holy shit. The four of us all had time to kill, so we headed toward some bagel shop Stacie knew. Turns out it didn’t open till 10am, so we settled for Starfucks®, bid farewell, and began quest number 2: finding the hotel. I’m not going to go into details here, with this or any other time we attempted to locate anywhere for the first time. Just assume that if we were going there (wherever there was) unguided, it took us at least 4.63 times as long as it needed to.

Check-in time was at 3pm, so we dropped off our bags at the front desk and sought out a nearby convenience of Japanese culture, a public bathhouse. See, we had that job fair today, and even if you’re generous/silly enough to call what we got on that bus “sleep,” we were still marinating in sweat and clothing that hadn’t been changed in nearly 30 hours. We needed awakedness and cleanliness, and we needed them badly. Fate led us down the wrong road and to a freaking delicious Ma and Pa noodle shop. It was awesome – they were just opening up for lunch and we didn’t even have to look at menus; they pretty much told us what we would be eating in a tone that was not to argued with. It suffices to say that that was one of the two best noodle dishes I have had in Japan so far.

So anywho, we ate, bathed, changed into our suits, and went to join the job fair, pumped as hell and ready to wow corporate execs into offering us way more money than we were worth.

...Turns out that’s not quite what happened. Remember back when I said the advertisement for this job fair seemed to imply that it was for native speakers of English who understood Japanese? Yeah, that wasn’t entirely the case. On the contrary, it was much more intended for native speakers of Japanese who could passably communicate in English. Yes, there is a huge difference (that I’m not going to go into in detail here unless someone asks me to).

We were mildly annoyed but had other plans in Tokyo for the evening and weren’t going to let it get us down. We went our separate ways, each to have dinner with a friend in Tokyo we hadn’t seen in quite some time. Having no definite plans for the next day we decided to give the job fair another shot, just in case. We suited up and went in with absolutely no expectations, not even planning to stay for the length of the event. It was actually quite worthwhile; we both went about the approach of telling company reps exactly what we were looking for – positions that could make use of a native speaker of English who could also communicate in Japanese. I spoke with two companies I will be sending my resume to when I get back from vacation. That evening I met my J-friend again and the three of us found a nice little Indian restaurant, followed by possibly the cheapest bar in all of Tokyo – all drinks are 300 yen! Oddly, it’s even located in Ginza, the trendiest and most expensive area of the city. To put this contrast in perspective, right near the 300 bar I had been eyeing a freaking hot dress shirt in the window of a mens’ clothing store; I had to graciously tell the clerk that I would have to “think about it” for a while after I saw the price...54000 yen. Some day, when I’m rich and famous...

The next day (today) was pretty awesome. After checking out of our lodgings, seeing Mike off, and leaving my luggage in a locker at the train station I went to meet Noriko, who had emailed me yesterday to tell me she’d be in Tokyo for the day to see a concert, and would I like to hang out? 7 years ago, when I first lived in Japan as a high school student, Noriko was a member of my host family, my “sister.” Now she’s...well, hmm. Even back then she was rather flirty, but us living in the same house meant that anything of that sort was way too awkward to even consider. We’ve kept in contact on and off since then, and she’s still vibrant and flirty, plus she’s a dance instructor now. *shrug* I’ll see her again in a few days, so we’ll see what comes of what.

We had linner (or, dunch? lupper?) wandered around and pretended to care about shopping, and headed off, her to the concert and me to Yokohama (with a few scenic detours). I finally got in here and found the hostel

(*snicker* yes, that’s a picture of my “room”) around 9pm. I had to get in here by then or the check-in desk would be closed, so I came directly from Tokyo station and haven't yet had time to pick up my luggage that's in a locker at Ikebukuro station, hence me being virtually possessionless right now. Eh, it can wait 'till tomorrow. I found some food and have been writing on and off since then, trying to figure out what sort of Christmas this is for me. Am I really happy here? It’d...be nice to share it with someone, I guess, but I’ll cope. Xmas is really an odd one in Japan. Virtually everyone celebrates it or at least gives it an acknowledging nod, but less than 1% of the population’s Christian, so I don’t know why. I’m not certain they do, either. It’s a time for parents to give their children toys, St. Nick or no St. Nick, and for couples to spend time together. That’s really it. No one knows why, they just do. Lights are strung up (Ginza was quite spectacular, in fact), comedically Engrish-ed songs are sung (Sirent night, hory night...), stocking caps are worn, presents are bought...just because. If you ask a Japanese person, they’ll probably say that they celebrate Christmas simply because they enjoy it, and I honestly have to ask if we (or anyone) really need a better reason than that. Why should a country already saturated in millennia of tradition and stark-raving terrified of wide-scale change not be able to just kick back and take pleasure in the moment? Maybe the idea did come from a popular Western religion that has never once had a serious place in this country, but I just can’t bring myself to see any problem with that.

I found this poem online some time ago, and somehow it seems to capture the moment better than any words that come to me right now.

On a street in the night
In the cold winter's light
A child stands alone and she's waiting
And the light that's out there
It just hangs in the air
As if it was just hesitating
And the snow it comes down
And it muffles the sound
Of dreams on their way to tomorrow
And when they appear
this night will hold them near
For where they will lead
She will follow

For here in the city of lights
This evening awakens
The dreams that it might
The winter it conjures
The spell it will weave
The snow gently covers the ground
Christmas Eve

In this scene
On this night
There's an ancient hotel
Where shadows they do tend to wander
And the ghosts that live here
Hold each moment so dear
For time's not a thing one should squander
And they recount their sand
As it runs through their hand
And examine each moment for meaning
It can be wished upon
Till the moment it's gone
Like day disappears into evening

For here in the city of lights
This evening awakens
The dreams that it might
The winter it conjures
The spell it will weave
The snow gently covers the ground
Christmas Eve

Through this night
The dream still wanders
As it was meant to be
And every year this night grows fonder
Of children and circumstance
Caught in this childhood dance
As the world turns around
Keeping dreams on the ground
Windows of frosted ice
Prisming candlelight
And somehow we start to believe

In the night and the dream
As it cuts through the noise
With the whisper of snow
As it starts to deploy
In the depths of a night
That's about to begin
With the feeling of snow
As it melts on your skin
And it covers the land
With a dream so intense
That it returns us all
To a child's innocence
And then what you'd thought lost
And could never retrieve
Is suddenly there to be found
On Christmas Eve

Unexpected dose of history

I've never hesitated to say how I love visiting the School in the Sky - the beautiful scenery, warm and friendly coworkers who are mostly in my age group, students who care and put forth serious effort in their lessons, and class sizes that allow me to actually give personal attention all make visits there a treat. I suppose it also helps that I'm there at most once a week, so trips there never quite become a commonplace, everyday routine. Anyway, today being a Thursday I once again make the trek (yes, yes...over the hills and through the woods, etc.). Last week I had talked with Sugar about how some of the students' parents would be visiting the school today, and we planned a review lesson on past-tense for the two sannensei, who are our lowest level students, but are showing more promise as of recent. There was another item on the docket for today that I had not been warned of, though, that made the excursion extra extravagant (wheee, alliteration!).



Mr. Takahashi is a man in his mid-60s, who was born right around the end of the second World War. 47 years ago he attended KJH, where I teach regularly these days. The ugly state this country was in in those post-war days meant that he needed to find work to help support his family, and was never able to pursue higher education. Today, he is in his final year of high school.

Yes, you read that correctly. A few years ago, after working in industry for the majority of his life, Mr. Takahashi decided that he needed this. Today he told us his story.
The principal of SitS first introduced Mr. Takahashi as "the person he respects above all others." I had been doing some prep work, so I slipped into the back of the classroom right as this was taking place. Mr. T (and I forbid all bad 80s TV references from this point on; I'm just getting tired of typing Takahashi) started with a few stories of his childhood, how after the war his family's first concern everyday was finding enough food for the table. They were not always as successful as they might have liked. He mentioned the movie "Hotaru no Haka" (Grave of the Fireflies) as having some similarities to his early childhood, a point that really struck a chord with me. If you've seen it, you probably know what I'm talking about. I do recommend it, with the caveat that it is not a happy movie. Don't watch it if you're already depressed; I don't want to be indirectly responsible for any suicides.
Anywho, Mr. T talked about his post-war childhood, and how he was never able to go on to high school because he needed to help support his family; I kind of just shut up and tried to chameleon myself into the wall. I never once felt nor do I think that anyone there (or even Mr. T) harbors any hostility toward Americans for the war, but it's one of those events that I'm still very careful of in conversation. I guess I feel that I don't really have the right to talk about it unless asked, especially in the presence of someone who was there. After all, what are most of us in this situation, but the descendants of two peoples who were supposed to be mortal enemies? And in the end, what would I say? Do I give the P.C. response that's expected of me, that nuclear war is terrible and I hope we have all learned from the mistakes of our past? If only it was so simple...
Getting back to the topic at hand, though, we heard from Mr. T how he went into work at some sort of machine factory (he said more than that but his voice was gravelly and my Japanese ain't perfect), and over the years as robots replaced more and more of his jobs he learned to repair the robots so he could stay employed. My ninensei student was nearly salivating at this; he's hardcore into robotics and wants to design them in the future. Question and answer time with Mr. T was pretty funny. One of the elementary students asked him if he enjoyed gym class when he was young. He responded, in a slow, drawn out manner, "Gym class...well, as to whether I liked gym class in my younger years...no, I actually freaking hated it. Passionately. I haven't the words to decribe my loathing of it." A smile, then. "Next question?"
My ninensei of course asked about the robots Mr. T repaired, and there may have been a few about what he planned to do in the future. All of this is of particular note, though, because this kind of thing just doesn't happen in Japan. There is no G.E.D.; returning to school for any kind of higher education later in life is not a popular choice, either. Once you've finished schooling in your youth, you typically work for one company for the rest of your pre-retirement life. Changing careers is still a rare phenomenon, too, with the attitude of company loyalty still claiming majority rule in the business world.
A local news crew actually came all the way out to SitS to film this event, and it got a minute or so on the 6pm news. This was of special interest to us single guys at SitS, because the newscaster was really hot.

I hinted at this before, but my sannensei at SitS are showing signs of progress and not sucking nearly as much any more. The one who used to skip all the time hasn't missed a class in over a month, and they both did well for their respective skill levels during our past-tense review. Granted, it probably helped that it was parents-visit-the-school day so we had the occasional mom drop in and observe, but they are also improving overall. I think it is largely related to their lessons previously being straight from that craptacular New Horizon rag, before we started teaching more to their level, but part of me likes to think I've been directly responsible for their recent performance, too.

Finally I have another gripe to wrap this up, just to keep this post in line with my typically effervescent personality. Eh, this one's pretty justified, though, I think. So, New Year's is a big thing here. BIG. Most companies and offices (mine included) have a bounenkai at the end of the year, which basically means 'a party to forget the year that just finished.' As you might have guessed, this can (does) mean drowning one's self in alcohol. Both KJH and SitS are having a bounenkai, both on the same night. I'm obligated to choose to attend KJH's party, because that's my main school. They're a fine bunch, but I'd rather get sloshed with the SitS people; we just have a friendlier relationship and more of them are in my age group. Ok, so far not a big problem. I can go to the KJH party and hang out with the SitS people another time, right? Wrong. See, the KJH party is at possibly the fanciest traditional Japanese inn in northern Japan, and at 28000 yen ($247) per head, I can't afford to go, especially since I'm traveling to Tokyo and Nagoya over the winter break. The SitS party is also at a nice resort but closer and less than half the price...but I can't just opt to go to that one - doing so might not officially be forbidden, but I know it could damage my professional relationship with people at KJH. I have a hunch that I could probably play the 'I'm white and don't know any better' card, but the risk (coupled with the fact that I do actually know better and would feel guilty) makes it just not worth it. So, no bounenkai for me. *pout*
I'll get over it, though. I am going to be in the 3rd (?) biggest city on the planet in a week.

The big picture

...and the myopic dumbasses who can't be bothered to even take a glance at it.

Heh, welcome to my world. Okay, that's not entirely accurate...the people I work with are, on the whole, motivated and caring individuals who take their jobs seriously and treat their students well. The system we work within, though, has us so absurdly fettered to a draconic, useless, backwards, utterly wrong method that integrating innovative and motivating activities into the curriculum is, at best, a violent struggle. Whew. [/vitriol]

Now that I've gotten that out of my system and taken a few breaths, I'll take a little space here explaining what the hell I'm talking about. First, a question: If you choose to learn a foreign language, what are your reasons for doing so?
I gave this question to 80 of my students in survey format, and got back the following answers:

Understanding foreign languages will increase my understanding of my mother tongue: 9%
Want to communicate better with foreigners: 53%
Speaking foreign languages is sexy/cool: 4%
I want to travel the world: 18%
I can learn expressions that don't exist in Japanese: 1%
If I can't speak foreign languages, nobody will hire me: 3%
It might be useful someday: 8%
Other: 4%

One can see that the majority of answers I received are focused around one thing: communication. I think it's safe to say that one could find answers like this to the same question all over the world. Most people who want to learn another country's tongue want to do it so that they can communicate. Okay, well...shouldn't a mandatory, government-sponsored program for students of a foreign language (in this case, English) be focused around teaching them to communicate using said language, then? Yes, perhaps? You'd like to think so, too. MEXT, the Ministry for Education, Culture, Sports, Science, and Technology, *insert derisive snort here* here in Japan, doesn't feel that way, though. Rather, they feel that the score/grade of a single test is suitable for determining any K-12 student's English abilities.
As a result, classes are supposed to be taught with the only objective of preparing students for a test. Does this sound at all familar to any of my American readership? *cough*...no children left behind...*cough*

To make matters even worse, there is no speaking section at all on the vast majority of these tests. Let me put this in perspective:
The tests I am referring to are the entrance examinations necessary to attend high school and university in Japan. No, you don't get to automatically go to either; you must first score at least a certain number on a test. These tests determine a student's future, period. Why? Because the school that you go to in this country is just as (if not more) important as what you actually do there. Top employers look for graduates of the top universities, and good luck getting most of them to even talk to you if you scored amazing marks and did breakthrough research at the University of Podunk, Nowheresville. So, students from about age 13 are under enormous pressure to succeed. Failure at the junior high level means no good high school, which means inadequate preparation for college entrance exams, which means attending a substandard college, which means the companies that pay the big bucks won't even read your resume. And nowhere in this, in 6 years of mandatory English education, is there actually a requirement to speak a word of English. These students aren't learning to speak a langauge; they are learning to crack a code. That's what the government makes English for them - a "code" that must be deciphered into "real" Japanese so they can understand it and pass a test.
...And yet, all these kids want is to be able to communicate. Gahhh...

I'm not going to end this entry on such a foul note, though, because there is hope. The JET Programme started 20 years ago with the goal of exposing students in Japan to real English in the classroom. My role in this is to motivate students to want to learn English, and then give them a chance to use it in a meaningful fashion. Now, as with any school subject, some students like English and others don't. That's just a reality that I can only affect so much. But for the students who want to learn actual spoken English, there is no concrete reward for their studies, such as better test scores or a bright college future. Classes are getting better, though. My prefecture has strong scores in English use in the classroom, and my JTEs (especially Saint) encourage it well.
Change, a phenomenon that the Japanese seem violently resistant to, is of course taking place slowly. I do still see setbacks. I do hear from parents who oppose the JET Programme because it distracts students from learning English material they will be tested on. I'm on board for at least another eight months, though, and I'm here to teach real English. Try and stop me.