My byôkyû

Monday morning greeted me with a rather incapacitating headache, a particularly bothersome event since I almost never get sick. Monday is my busiest day of the week, with generally six classes on my schedule - that's every class period during the day, with no rest but lunch. There was no way this was going to happen. For any of you who are thinking, "Oh, you poor baby. You mean once a week you actually have to work the whole day??" I'd like to point out that a huge chunk of teaching is prep time, and without it we are fucked running. So, my head condition combined with the stupidly busy schedule staring me in the face led me to one conclusion: time to actually use one of my sick days.

And if that's all there was to this article, it would suck out loud. Fortunately this rather lame event gives me an opportunity to share another precious nugget of Japanese office culture, though, so I'll dive right into it. Byôkyû (病休), literally "sick vacation", is the name for leave granted to full-time workers in this country to theoretically keep them from dropping dead on the job. For the Japanese, it has about a snowball's chance in hell of ever actually getting used. "What's this?" you say. "Have those crazy Japanese actually evolved beyond common illnesses, now?"

Psssh, no, they're just masochists. This is not to say that they'll show up to work no matter their condition; days do come in which even the hardiest must cash in their chips and take a bit of a rest. That's not too unlike the rest of the world, as many of us prefer to get stuff done at work rather than doing nothing all day if at all possible, but here's the kicker - while J-folks will occasionally take a day off, they will almost never use their byôkyû. They'll instead use one of their normal paid time off days, as if accepting personal responsibility for their illness. And despite this idiocy, most will still not end up using all of their PTO. I may sound a bit judgmental here, but having worked in an office environment in the U.S. before coming here has led me to the belief that employees who don't know how to take a break end up going shit-nuts. My former employer even agreed with this opinion; it was their policy that supervisors strongly encourage those under them to use every PTO day they are granted in a year. They were even required to use some of it, and would be barred from entering the building if they didn't. It'll likely be a while before Japanese workplaces reach this level, though, because there is a certain cultural stigma here against not being present at work, even if there's not a damn thing to do. I've even had a number of days (plus I'm looking at two more in my immediate future) in which I am required to show up and exist in the teachers' office, but I have absolutely nothing on my schedule for the day, and no prep work to complete. Sigh. Somehow, though, the utter shame of not being seen at work chains the majority of Japanese to their desks when they could be doing something of measurable use instead.

I wish that's all there was to it, but this unwritten policy of never using the vacation days one is granted also sort of applies to me – or at least, they try to make it apply and I deliberately ignore the attempt and let them think that I don't quite understand. In all other ways I am totally in favor of blending in, playing by their rules, being a Roman whilst in Rome, etc. But when it comes to vacations, I strongly believe that the Japanese need to try just chilling out a bit, and they'll find themselves more productive in their active time and *gasp!* possibly even leading a happier lifestyle.

So, I was sick* one other time last year while working here, and I went through the appropriate procedure of letting the right people know that I wouldn't be in to work and all that. Feeling better the next day, I came into the office and went to take care of the necessary paperwork for using 1 day of my byôkyû ...turns out that CPB had already filled in the necessary document, marking my time away as PTO.

...I guess it's a plus that at least she didn't make me trace it that time. Anyway, I asked that the PTO day used up be changed to byôkyû and she told me that that would be impossible, since I did not visit the hospital during my time of illness. For a head cold. Can you hear me rolling my eyes?

*OK, ½ sick and ½ needing a Day Off To Preserve Brett's Mental Health. I consider that close enough, since I probably would have been violently ill without it.

Riiiiiight, so this time I was wise. I made an appointment and stopped by to see the doctor for my uncomfortable but entirely benign head condition. He did the standard sort of checking on throat, sinuses, and such and came to the shocking conclusion that I have a... wait for it, wait for it! ...head cold. It might even be accompanied by stress from overworking, he said. I was nearly sick all over his floor right then for reasons entirely unrelated to my stressy sinusy thing. And if any of the last paragraph or so was confusing, just reread it with enough sarcasm to coat most of Tokyo, and everything will make sense.
Now, here comes the weird part. He gave me not one, not two, but three(!) prescription medicines for this minor affliction. I dutifully filled them at the next-door pharmacy (the whole town would have known within minutes if I hadn't), but do not intend to put any of them to use, except for maybe the iodine gargle stuff. Let me say this once more, because I'm not sure even I believe it yet - I have three prescription medicines for a fucking head cold. I am so confused right now...

In to school the next day, and just like last time, CPB had filled in my paperwork for me, with PTO used for the day I had missed. The nasty part of this was that I had no more PTO that wasn't spoken for; I had signed the last of it away because I am planning a vacation of sorts in July. As CPB manages all of these records, she knew this. To state this clearly - my July plane ticket is bought and paid for. I have no more PTO to sacrifice on the Japanese Altar of Shame. I cannot shorten my vacation (even if I wanted to) to adapt to a draconic unwritten policy of suffering needlessly because people here are afraid of change.
Fortunately I was armed with appropriate countermeasures this time. I had a doctor's note! That's right, kids, I had to get a note from the doctor to prove that I had been to the hospital for my head cold, so I could use byôkyû without causing CPB to breathe fire. I may be missing something here, but by my recollection I work in a junior high school. I am not, in fact, still a junior high school student.
The look on CPB's face when I showed her my doctor's note and told her I'd be using byôkyû was just priceless. She stared at the note, looked at me with pleading eyes as if begging me to change my mind, and finally only said, "I see." Now, I'm not culturally ignorant; I know that this was the equivalent of an American having a screaming temper tantrum, but I had no intention of budging one millimeter. As much as I believe in the importance of international exchange and understanding, there are a few moments for me when common sense rears its ugly head. I am gaijin, hear me roar.

On a lighter note, I have some more office nicknames for you, as previously promised.

Captain Combover
He's the new music teacher, though I must admit that I had no idea what his role here was until just recently. He's a soft-spoken, short (for Japanese people), pretty much unremarkable man whom I'd guess to be in his 50s. He smokes occasionally, and has one of the most amazing combovers I have ever seen. This thing doesn't merely cover a little hairless spot, nay. It spans his bald pate, reaching like the clawing hand of a drowning man seeking air. You really need to see it to understand it. Sometimes when it's late in the day and the office is growing quiet, I think I can feel it staring at me...
Anyway, I had no idea what this guy or his chia pet's function here were until I saw my ninensei practicing for an upcoming festival in Kosaka that they will apparently perform at. They were doing the school song, but not with enough feeling, enough energy...so this tiny little smoker of a man with creepy hair belts out a tune to fill the entire damn gymnasium!

Waif
Waif is Giggles' replacement; Giggles got moved to a school in Odate in April. Waif, as you may have guessed, is skinny and very much gives me the impression that she might be knocked over by the next stiff wind that sweeps through here. She's fresh out of college and occasionally reminds me of a deer in headlights. She's new to the system and her English leaves something to be desired, so I really hope she breaks out of here and experiences the world, rather than falling into place like a good little cog in the great machine that really isn't teaching Japanese kids suitable English skills without foreign intervention.

Whisper
He replaced Sugar at the School in the Sky; Sugar took the place of Mrs. Freckles and now works at KJH. Whisper isn't a bad English teacher, but he desperately needs to eNUNciate his WORDS when SPEAKing JApanese or ENglish, so EVeryone can underSTAND him. I wish I had more to say here, but I've only taught with him a few times, and he was actually out on a business trip the last time I was at SitS, so I had the classes to myself (wheee!).

I'll save some more for next time, since they can be tacked so easily onto pretty much any post I put up here.

Electives, beatings, etc.

As you may have previously heard, there's a lot of pressure to succeed academically in Japan. This pressure doesn't just come from parents or teachers, but from fellow students as well. I've observed two sides to this (potentially 3-sided??) coin so far, one that's pretty brutal and nasty and one that's downright humorous.

I'll get the ugly one over with first, but with one caveat before I begin: Japan is not America. Not all of the laws are the same, and the customs are most certainly different. Actions that you may perceive as wrong, while not necessarily commonplace here, can happen and may not be dealt with as you might like. Furthermore, I don't necessarily support every action taken here, and am reporting it primarily because it could be interesting to you. That said (and now that I've illustrated just about every use of the potential form in English), try not to get up in arms over what you read. I don't like every aspect of the Japanese education system, but it does work - to an extent anyway - as evidenced by Japan's 1st world country status and successful economy that isn't on the verge of collapse like America's.

Now that I've caveated the living hell out of you, I'll get into my first topic here, ijime. Ijime, literally 'harassment' or 'bullying,' is typically used in a more specific context to refer to bullying that takes place at school, most often junior high and high school. Of course this sort of behavior is hardly limited to Japan; students all over the world find reasons everyday to torment and beat each other. In the U.S., the victims are most likely to be those perceived by their peers as physically or emotionally weak, and thus easy targets. In Japan, though, it is the unsuccessful students (academically or in club activities) who have traditionally been the targets of torment in the hallowed halls of learning. This is made particularly easy by a system that has relied on shame in the past to encourage greater effort, by making test scores and grades public knowledge to the student body. It is only recently that Japanese schools are turning away from this trend and keeping class marks between the teacher and the student in question.
Bullying also sometimes takes place here in an attempt by students to maintain some form of "chain of command." Japan has for centuries been a Father-Knows-Best society, and schools are no exception. Students are expected to obey teachers without question, and younger students are expected to show respect to their elders. I don't want to turn this into any kind of linguistics lesson so I'll just say quickly that it's very easy by one's word choice in Japanese to convey how much one respects another, so there is rarely a question in the intention behind one's words.

This (finally) leads into one of the observations I mentioned at the beginning of this entry. Officially, younger students are expected to respect more advanced students, but Japan is no different from any country when it comes to children - kids are still kids, they go through the same developmental stages as every other child, and they are often total bastards to each other. And teachers are hardly around to observe every transgression, even if they care to play judge, jury, and executioner in each petty squabble that arises. So naturally, students take issues of "discipline" into their own hands. The event that went down here was simple enough - a 1st year student failed to speak with (what was deemed as) proper respect to a 2nd year student, and said 2nd year student shoved the 1st year's head in a toilet. I learned of most of this when the 2nd year was hauled into the teachers' room - no, this or any sort of bullying isn't tolerated here and students who get caught are disciplined - by one of the more hard-line "scary" teachers here. It started with him giving the student a stern talking to, which gradually escalated in volume to capture the attention of everyone in the room. He stood up, continued the tirade, struck the student in the chest and then upside the back of his head, and then gave him a shove toward the door with a final "get the hell out of here" or some such.

...And, now what? A silence had settled over the room, but people went back to their business quickly enough. Beyond a few quiet questions of why that had happened, no one paid the issue much attention, and so I had to wonder, was I in a position to do so? Ultimately I decided that I was not, although it was a struggle. In the U.S., striking a student would most likely be a terminable offense for a teacher. We've already established, though, that that's not where I presently am. I put a lot of thought into what I personally felt about this incident for several days after the fact. I knew that the student suffered no significant injury except maybe to his pride and I also really had to wonder if he deserved it, based on his previous behavior. Neither Japanese custom nor the law here would provide me with any support, so I had to go with what I thought was morally right. Considering the extent to which the situation went (or rather, didn't go), I couldn't justify raising a stink over it. I'm confident that my reaction would have been different if the teacher had struck a female student, or if the student had suffered noticeable injuries, but as it stood...sigh. Moral dilemmas can be such a sumbitch.

On a happier note, and one that's also much easier to write about, my students have recently been given the freedom to inject a little personal choice into their class schedules. Once a week we now have a special time for 1-2 hours where students can take an elective class that is largely unrelated to their required class material, and includes options such as flower arrangement, Japanese drums, making solar panels, traditional cooking, and my new responsibility, English speaking.
Erm, but wait...isn't that what I teach every day here? Ah, no, not quite. I've previously told you of the PTM* and the power they wield here. This is no mere spark in the night, nay. I'm talking about the moment when Arthur first drew Excalibur from The Stone seasoned liberally with the Power of Greyskull.

*Parent Teacher Mafia

Anyway, the PTM dictates that only government-stamped-and-approved English be taught to their childrens' fragile little minds, and almighty God help the poor soul who deviates even one iota from that decree. The textbooks hardly emphasize speaking at all, though, and except in the case of a teacher personally enforcing speaking requirements, a student can cruise on through three years of junior high English by reading, writing, listening, and never actually speaking a single word of English.
So, I work in as many opportunities to have my students speak as I can. My fellow (Japanese) English teachers seem to understand and sympathize; they want to teach the kids as much functional, useful English as they can, too, but are bound by the same fetters I am, plus they can also be admonished for stepping out of line. In theory I can as well, but in practice most Japanese people out in the country who don't know us foreign types are afraid of us and won't initiate a conflict unless they have to.
End result is that I'm thrilled to have partial charge of an elective class in which students can focus more on speaking and speech techniques. It's a small class, too, so it's much easier to give personal attention to the students.

So, one day recently I was talking with a few of my kids who are in this elective class. Three of them are officially in their first year of learning English, but have studied previously outside of school (they went to a private school together) so they actually have a much better command of the language than their fellow ichinensei. I asked them if they wanted to use the break after lunch time once a week to go over some more difficult English and in general learn some more interesting stuff. One immediately chimed in "Yep!" and a second followed in suit. The third didn't answer and so I asked her again. To her friend she replied, "I think I'm gonna go play this time." Her friend then proceeded to slap the holy shit out of her, shouting and calling her lazy, etc. I nearly died laughing. I swear, the little sailor uniforms and the fact that they are like 4 feet tall makes it even funnier.
The nicknames of Slappy and Punching Bag have thus been put into regular use. Expect a few more next time, now that I've gotten to know all of my new coworkers...