Brett in Japan

Brotherhood

2010-06-14T08:15:00.000-07:00

I watched my first World Cup 2010 game yesterday, in which the German Engine of War made the Australians look like folding chairs. When I awoke that morning I had no thought of paying the game any attention, but as the day unfolded circumstances changed, and I wound up spending time with some Aussies who were passionate about seeing it live, never mind the fact that it started at 3:30am.

Sure, what the hell, I thought. Nothing in my schedule keeping me from such frivolities. So after catching a nap at a manga cafe* from 1-ish to 3, we hit a bar in Shibuya and watched Team Oz get savagely maimed. My new associates were of course distraught to the point of tears, and I took the opportunity rub a little salt on their injured pride :-) ... but not too much. I'm a wiseass, not a jackass. We enjoyed several cuts of consolation sushi in Tsukiji afterwards, stumbled to our respective domiciles, and collapsed into sometime in the afternoon.

*Wonderful inventions. For less than $4/hour, you get a cozy private cubicle with a computer, broadband internet, a soft reclining sleeper-chair, and free coffee/tea. To top that off, the place has a huge selection of movies and comic books, and there's even a restaurant attached with food slightly better than McDeath. I hear some have showers, too.

All of that's beside the point, though. I didn't start this entry to gush about sports. Any of you who know me well know that professional sports are not a high point of my life. I don't follow teams, I don't know player stats, and the concept of fantasy football bores me silly. No, the reason I'm writing this entry is actually a tune and a few words that got stuck in my head, no doubt after I overheard it in a commercial or something.

"When I get older, I will be stronger, they'll call me freedom, just like a wavin' flag..."

Any nods of recognition out there? My brief Google research led me to the conclusion that this is a line from the refrain of K'naan's "Wavin' Flag," released in 2007 and adopted as the theme song of the 2010 World Cup. Listen to it. It's all over YouTube and the rest of the interwebs.

The lyrics are simple, but they come together for me in a way few things do. They carry a powerful message, and they thrust it out there boldly, telling the world to grow the fuck up and start seeing each other as all members of one race. And maybe that's what we need. What's more, since the song became the anthem of World Cup 2010, handfuls of translations have been recorded, into Spanish, Arabic, Japanese, Chinese, and many others. K'naan has worked with artists all over the world to globalize this message, and if I knew him I would thank him in person. I can't say anything authoritative about most of the foreign language recordings, except for the Japanese one - which was brilliant. It wasn't a translation at all, actually, but what it did do is take the overall message and couch it in a deep cultural context that just makes sense. It takes topics that are natural to the Japanese way of life and uses them to carry K'naan's thoughts to this audience. It works well. I'm hoping - and thinking, probably, that that's what each language's version of this song has done. Why try to communicate the same words, anyway, to people who think differently? Touch each culture, instead, with an understanding of their ways and a presentation of your message that they can stand behind.

Now, we can't get perfection from this, the World Cup, or any such production. No matter how many songs are sung, it's not likely that North and South Korea will face each other on the green anytime soon. Israeli and Palestinian players probably won't clasp hands and congratulate each other on a well-played game in the near future. Blood will still fall and hatred will still burn. But if an event like this can bring as many of us together as it does, I say it's a damn good start. If Germany, Italy, England, and France have successfully transformed the death and horror of only 70 years past into a (more or less) friendly sporting competition, maybe we really do have something to look forward to. And if you still doubt me, try putting your cynicism aside for a day and just wondering what an event like this can achieve if it's done this much so far.

"...if you weren't involved before, it's never too late to start."

Honest concern, racial profiling, or just plain boredom? You be the judge.

2010-04-24T09:52:00.000-07:00

I haven't gotten around to writing recently due to a final paper for my MBA beating my brains out, and then traveling with visiting family, but now that brains have been recovered/reinstalled (along with my OS, but that's another story), family has gone home, and my degree is in hand, I can now get back to writing about some of the weird shit that happens to me here.

So, I got home the other day (or back to my train station) from a lunch thing and was greeted by the usual throngs of people milling about on a weekend afternoon, plus the inevitable marketing technicians handing out fliers for their respective businesses, shouting the latest deals offered, or just shamelessly begging for your money. And as usual, I wound my way through the crowd, trying not to make eye contact with any part of the Collective. Suddenly, a short (by Japanese standards), well-dressed Japanese woman probably in her 40s came up alongside me and asked in broken English if I spoke Japanese. I responded in the affirmative, and she clearly wanted my attention for something, but we were in the middle of a crowd and I could barely hear her, much less respond intelligently, so I followed her outside the teeming masses where she could tell me exactly what was so important.

At this point, I was assuming...I don't know. I had at first guessed she was a tourist, but they usually ask me if I speak English. I genuinely hoped this wasn't some marketing ploy by yet another pile of ignorant douchebags trying to pander to the foreigner crowd here as if they actually represent only a single demographic - but no, this woman had no corporate uniform on and seemed just too slick and professional to be out on the streets annoying people. She clearly had more of a capable, experienced demeanor, too, than some jackoff trolling for commissions. Briefly, fear struck me. Well-dressed, clean and crisp manner, devoted to her mission... Jehovah's Witness!! Nooooo!!!! God save me from your followers! My eyes darted left and right for an escape route, but mercifully I was wrong.

Once we got over to a guardrail and could hear ourselves think again, she addressed me in Japanese and revealed that she was an officer of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police. Having done nothing wrong, knowing at least reasonably what my rights here are, and being in a crowded public area, I was so far unconcerned, but rather curious. She explained to me that (I'm translating from only memory here, but this is more or less accurate) there had been a number of problems related to foreigners and crime in Tokyo recently, and would I mind if she ask me a few questions? She had spoken very politely to me, and before I could respond, she asked if I would like to see her badge. I nodded, knowing that foreigners and cops here do not always get along on the shiniest of terms*. My curiosity at this point was tipping the scales.

*This is an absurd, gigantic can of Arrakis-sized worms that I am not going to break open here because A) What I do know could fill pages, and B) I don't know nearly enough to do this issue justice. I will, however, give a brief peek of the horrors inside, just to help out readers who have never been here or had reason to research this matter. Like every country, Japan has good cops and bad cops. Regardless of what camp they fall in, many (dare I say, most?) cops here have not dealt extensively with foreigners, and are under the impression that we are responsible for a disproportionate amount of the crime that happens on their sweet little island utopia. We tend to get treated as such. Further, if a foreigner in Japan is accused of a crime and actually arrested, best to assume guilty until proven innocent, because that's how the system will treat them. The vast majority of us get by here just fine by obeying the laws and not getting involved with seedy-looking situations. Seriously, this does work almost flawlessly, and foreigners are generally not at risk of being abused by cops. I've lived here for 2.5 years of my life and this has been one of two times I talked to cop, except to ask directions.

So, she showed me her badge, holding it low and shielding it from public view so that I might see it without passerby thinking this was a bad situation (I guess). She then asked me if I would be kind enough to show her my gaijin card - well, technically it's called a gaikokujin touroku shoumeisho, but few people have the patience to say that entire mouthful every time - legal identification for foreigners here that gives all the standard birthdate/address/photo info on it, plus the type and expiration date of our visa.

This is generally normal for a cop here, if a little annoying. Japanese cops have the right to ask for ID at any time, for any or no reason. If you don't have it, you will be arrested and fined. Deal with it, and play along. There's no reason to be stubborn or fight this one; it'll only get you in trouble. (Also true because the average cop here can kick your ass. They don't carry guns but they all train like crazy and have advanced rankings in kendo and aikido. Fuck with them at your own peril.)

I gave her my card, and she began to write down my details on a notepad she produced from one pocket. All the while through, she asked me polite, clarifying questions like how to pronounce my name, what I was doing here on a cultural studies visa, etc. I explained it all to her, and she took a few more notes. She asked me then if I had heard of any crimes involving foreigners here. Well, technically yes, ma'am, but I think I would prefer to keep my goddamn mouth shut at this point, seeing as they're all minor and of no realistic threat to Japanese society. All I actually said was, "No, I can't think of any." The way she had phrased the question was of particular interest, though. She did not say:
1. Do you know of foreigners committing any crimes here?
2. Do you know of any foreign victims of crime here? or
3. Have you been a victim of crime here?
All she asked was if I knew of foreigner "involvement" in such, which can be interpreted in a ton of ways. I had to roll that one around in my brain for a bit, just because of all the different meanings it could have. No situation came to mind that I thought a cop could actually help with, so as I said, I gave her a negative answer. It bothered me and made my spine tingle a bit, though.
Anyway, the conversation ended with her asking me if there was anything the Tokyo Metropolitan Police could do to make my stay here better. I told her, "No, thank you, I'm having a good time here. Japan is a very safe country." A little ass-kissing couldn't hurt, I figured. Let me stress that she was very polite throughout this whole business, and actually spoke quite deferentially to me. I've heard of cops being straight up dicks to foreigners here; this was definitely not such a case. I got my ID card back from her and she went on her way, leaving me scratching my chin stubble over what just happened.

Question 1: Why did she approach me in the first place?
There's no one certain answer, but I can guess. Cops (and as an extension, many public figures) believe that visa overstayers are responsible for much of the crime here. Consequently, if you get caught overstaying your visa here, you will get screwed really hard. Don't do it. I read about a couple who were studying abroad at a university here, and overstayed 1 day due to making a mistake in booking their flight home. They tried to go home, figuring that if they were leaving the country anyway, who would care? Woe unto them - they got arrested at the airport, held in police custody for several days, and finally deported. Oh, and by the way: THEY WERE BANNED FROM RETURNING TO JAPAN FOR FIVE YEARS. For making an error in booking a flight. Moral of the story? Never overstay your visa here for any reason. Ever. So anywho, cops sometimes nab foreigners like me, just to see if we have valid visas. This has come to be referred to by many as getting pulled over for a W3, or just getting W3-ed. What is this, you ask? Why, it's none other than the heinous crime of Walking While White. My readers in Minnesota may recall the DWB (Driving While Black) that the Minneapolis Police Department has a real boner for - this is the same basic idea, just aimed at a different minority.

Question 2: That's kinda racist, don't you think?
Well, yes. I wouldn't be writing this entry if I didn't take issue with what happened. However, is it really a bad thing? White males of European descent (and many others) have subjected numerous racial groups to horrible, absolutely deplorable treatment for centuries, maybe millennia. I wonder if, just so that we keep our shit in perspective, don’t we all deserve to be the hated/feared/untrusted minority at least once? How else can we appreciate the hardships others have suffered for not blending in with the crowd? Prejudice is never a good thing, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be an educational thing.
Japan’s got a tough hurdle to overcome, too. For ~250 years, their military dictatorship closed the country to all foreign influence, save for a few ports kept open for very limited foreign trade, and this only ended in the mid/late 1800s. I can think of few better ways to breed xenophobia than that. And as the wise master tells us, “Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering..."

Question 3: Involvement?
This one gets my goat. On some level I can accept that Tokyo police might use this word because asking foreigners if they know of fellow out-of-towners breaking the law might seem a little combative. Doesn't make it any less passive-aggressive. The solution isn't to directly quiz us about the nefarious ways of our white/black/hispanic/other brethren, though - it's to extract head from ass and realize that the overwhelming majority of foreigners who make it all the fucking way to Japan are educated and generally successful (excepting a few asshats in the military who make the whole organization look bad). Educated, successful people are not breeding grounds for crime, because we're happy with the direction we're going. This is some pretty basic shit. Require a little education in statistics and social science for cops, and they'll see this. Sure, some people come here and then misbehave. Show me some verifiable evidence that these people represent the majority of criminals in Japan and I will display my gaijin card with glowing lights on it to every damn cop I pass.

In the end, there is no simple solution to this. The responsibility lies on the shoulders of no one involved party more than others. Japanese cops need education, and exposure to foreign ways of life – if for no other reason than so they see that we aren’t a collective den of criminals. And if we start early...

This is why I strongly support programs like JET. JETs aren’t necessarily English teachers – after all, not every Japanese child wants to learn English. (And who’s going to blame them, really? I didn’t exactly have the hots for Spanish when I was 13.) But what teaching abroad programs do do is expose students to ways of life other than their own, so that the next time they see a foreigner, they don’t scream, duck and cover, or stare in befuddled awe. It may not seem like much, but for a country cut off from almost everything for so long, continued survival in an undeniably international world requires it.

Devil in my Dictionary

2010-03-23T03:29:00.000-07:00

Some things just need to be seen to be believed. By the way, some of this post is NSFW. Don't continue reading if you're currently at a workplace you like and don't want to get fired from it.

The other day, my coworker asked me what the best way was to express a particular Japanese phrase in English (あくせく働く, for the immediately curious). It basically means to work in a busy-body way, all-work-and-no-play, etc.

However, I couldn't think of any particularly succinct way to express this on the spot, so I consulted my wonderful electronic dictionary for ideas. It has a phrase reference tool that's usually useful, although it sometimes comes up with interesting examples - generally nothing that would get you ostracized by polite company, but might raise an eyebrow or two. This time, though...

I could simply type down what it gave me, but - well, if someone just told me this one without photographic proof, I'd probably have trouble accepting it as truth, too.

I shit you not. Apparently the Canon Wordtank G55 is a racist pig.

There are plenty of other stereotypes and such that I see the Japanese take to unnecessary lengths at times, too. How, for example, could one possibly market a product like this in the United States?

(For those of you familiar with the chain, these were found at Don Quijote in Shinjuku. No, not Tsuyoshi's House of Porn.)

It's just as cute (sometimes better) when the Japanese make a funny without even realizing it. I'll generally forgive them just because English is such a weird and convoluted language, but that won't keep me from laughing - sometimes out loud, in public. I don't know, maybe I'm just retarded, but I found these instructions on a Whack-a-Mole game in Odaiba to be drop dead hilarious.

Be sure not to engage in Whack-a-Mole whilst drunk out of your mind, kids. Oh, and if you would be so kind as to not beat the holy crap out of yourself or passerby in the process we would greatly appreciate it, thanks.

And here was an absolutely priceless storefront of a prophylactic shop right outside the children's arcade with the drunken Whack-a-Mole. Say hi to Lubey, Pokey, and Ribber for me the next time you stop by, eh?

Some of the most over-the-top sexual humor I run into here is totally unintentional, too. I think.

Oh come on, Japan. Seriously?

Really the most fascinating, though, would have to be the people here themselves. Held to rigid social standards of proper dress, behavior, and language for several hundred (if not thousand) years has affected the citizens of this proud nation in myriad ways. Many accept their role as cogs in the Great Machine. Some explore unique fashion trends. Others pick up an axe and murder their family. And a few...

"Hey, big boy. Wanna party?"

The wrong side of the tracks

2010-03-03T01:54:00.000-08:00

I've been horrible at updating this thing recently. Absolutely godawful. Inexcusable. Time to change that.

So, this is my third time living in Japan, but only the second time I have had to actually fend for myself. On my first trip here I was a high school exchange student who got coddled by rich host families, so I had no worries beyond walking the dog and (occasionally) studying Japanese. The first time I had to manage my own affairs was quite different, though:

I had a salary.

Said salary was not too shabby for the amount of work I did.

I was living in the absolute ass-end of nowhere, meaning that everything was cheap. I never worried about affording anything that I actually needed.

These days, life's a little different. I live in Tokyo, the largest metropolitan area on the entire fucking planet, and one of the most expensive cities in the world. And I make bupkis. In fact, my only (semi-)regular income right now is the ~$30/hour I can make tutoring English, and that's at best twice a week. One can quickly see how $240/month just ain't gonna cut it here.

This place will, however, fool you. Or maybe it won't, but it fooled me a little, at first. "Fool me once, shame on - shame on you. Fool me - you can't get fooled again!"

Bushisms aside, though, I know now that I came here lacking the perspective I required. I live in a pretty nice, upscale neighborhood, and have a pretty nice, upscale monthly rent to match. This is fine; one expense like that won't kill me, and it comes with amenities that I require like enough space for a 188cm person, a tatami floor to sleep on, and my own damn bathroom. In that, I'm confident I'm getting what I pay for.

Food is an entirely different matter, though. The closest grocery store to my house is Kinokuniya, and when I first saw the inside of it, I was ecstatic. At this point, anyone who has lived here long enough is gasping or shaking their head in pity...allow me to explain. Kinokuniya is a high-quality mostly organic store, and is the most expensive grocer. ANYWHERE. EVER. I mean, in the entire history of mankind. I have never seen such common household foods and amenities sold as such high prices so utterly shamelessly. I think shopping there must be a sort of status symbol, kind of like belonging to a $50,000/year country club - you don't actually get what you pay for, but everyone knows how much money you're blowing, and to a select crowd of idiots, that makes you look important/worthwhile/classy/sexy.

When I came to this country two months ago, my wallet was armored with several hundred thousand yen (a few thousand bucks), and it noticed not the savage kick to its groin* that Kinokuniya delivered on the few occasions I made shopping trips there. A few weeks into my brainless consumerism, though, I did a little math and realized that to sustain my then current buying habits, I would need a 6-figure salary. Remember that part where I said I don't make any money?

*Yes, my wallet has its own twig and berries. Don't ask.

Solving this problem would require complicated, unprecedented, dire steps, boldly going where no...nevermind. Mustering my courage, I exited my apartment and walked the opposite direction from Kinokuniya. Wild, huh?

And the fruits of my labor? The Other Side of the Tracks.

Sounds ominous, but that's the name I've given to this charming little outdoor mall-street. As far as I can tell, it has everything I really need:

Food: marts for Chinese, baked goods, and normal groceries, plus a few yakiniku and such if I get lazy.

Barber: Japanese barber still includes the straight-razor shave, back and neck massage, etc. It's pretty boss.

Butcher: Little old grandpa and grandma who seemed to memorize all my preferences after I had only been there twice.

Cakes: If you've had Japanese cakes, you understand. If not...Tokyo's great this time of year! Come see us!

Hell, there's even a dry cleaner, a jeweler, and a futon store, for all my regular...uh...bedding needs, I guess.

The point I'm getting to with this rambly post is that everything on The Other Side of the Tracks costs 1/3 to 1/2 of what the trendfucker joints are charging, probably even less in some cases. This is one of the many tricks that Japanese people know so that they can survive in cities like Tokyo. Moral of the story? If you're paying any more than you would in smaller largish cities for basic household needs, ask around. Wander. Get away from the main streets. Shop to meet your budget, and not your ego or sense of laziness. It's a wide and wonderful world out there, but you gotta open your eyes and take that first step.

Gaijin Score!!

2010-02-17T06:21:00.000-08:00

On the train this last weekend, I invented a new game – well, not totally new, but it’s an extension of another idea I really like. Anyone who has read Azrael’s blog is familiar with the concept of Gaijin Smash, loosely defined as a technique used by foreigners (外人 – gaijin; lit. “outside person”) in Japan in order to impose their will on the Japanese. Examples include charging through a subway turnstile without paying, sitting in the elderly/disabled seats when you’re clearly neither, and other sorts of general dickheadedness. Gaijin have the remarkable ability in this country to completely avoid all punitive measures so long as the action in question doesn’t break any serious laws or badly upset the social order, because most Japanese people are nervous about or unwilling to confront us. Reasons include:

1) They assume we don’t speak Japanese and won’t understand

2) They assume that even if we speak Japanese, we won’t understand the complexities of their rules and society

3) Culturally, most Japanese avoid confrontation if at all possible – they don’t view it as worthwhile

4) We’re really goddamn tall and intimidating

Along with the Gaijin Smash, other terms such as the Gaijin Perimeter have come into regular use in the last few years. The GP is the effect we foreigners have in public, when Japanese will naturally put a little extra space between themselves and us without even thinking about it. It’s kind of funny to observe this one in action because people do it here so obliviously that it’s almost like they’re on autopilot – as if there’s some mild magnetic repulsion taking place that no one discusses or even acknowledges.

I’m sure there are a few others, too, but that’s not the focus of this entry. Nay, today I’m writing about my own contribution to this little field of ex-pat humor, a simple game that I have termed the Gaijin Score. It’s not complex, and just started as one more way for me to amuse myself on boring bus/train rides.

To play, you have to be on public transit that isn’t too busy. This doesn’t work during a crowded-as-fuck rush hour, because no one has any choice but to be pressed together like canned sardines. No, your Japanese co-riders must have a little room to move about. Now, in order:

1) Find a seat that has an open space next to it. Sit in it. There must be room for someone to sit next to you.

2) At each stop, count how many people choose to remain standing rather than take the plunge and sit within mere centimeters of a foreign barbarian. Each person = 1 point. You only gain a point if they choose to stand as opposed to sit next to you. It doesn’t count if they choose to stand when they have plenty of sitting options – they may just want to stretch.

3) Gain 2 points any time a Japanese person already sitting next to you gets up and moves to another seat when it becomes available, because your powers over them are nigh legendary if you can make them take action specifically to get away from you.

4) Divide your total score by the number of stops your train makes – this allows you to compete with friends who are on different trains at different times.

5) Remember that if all competitors are on the same train, there must be enough distance between you so that everyone knows who gets to claim each point.

6) Finally, half your total score if you have any particular smell about you that would cause most normal people to move away – you can dress however you want, but bad BO is just cheating.

My top Score is 8 so far, going between Jiyugaoka and Shibuya.

Guess who’s back, back again. Shady’s back, tell a friend…

2010-02-10T01:23:00.000-08:00

I miss wheat bread. I’ve been back in Japan for about three weeks, I’m updating a blog I haven’t touched in over a year, and…yeah – that’s really the first thing that comes to mind. The country doesn’t completely fail at bread, and in fact has been known to create some very delicious varieties of the paler species, but whole grains seem to be the proverbial needle in the haystack. So much for nutrients from that food group.

…Wow. I thought for about five minutes and realized that in my current position, updating this blog is going to be a pain in the ass…maybe. When I was a teacher in Japan, I could rest easy knowing that nothing I posted here had the slightest chance of negatively affecting my job – my boss and most of my coworkers didn’t speak English, except for a few who couldn’t care less what some website said about all the weird crap that happened at Kosaka Jr. High on a semi-regular basis. Now, in my wide, wide world of teh internets and a bilingual office and an American boss and the thought of landing a real job in this country, I am realizing that I have to be kind of careful. I mean, think about it. What would be the first thing you’d do to learn more about a person you didn’t really know but were considering hiring? Go ahead, think about it. I’ll wait.

Was your answer something like, Google them? I have, of course, Googled myself before, and I know while nothing horribly scandalous comes up, it’s not hard to start there and find your way to places like this blog, where I have and continue to talk about topics generally considered too risqué for a work environment. So, puzzle puzzle. What do I do now? Do I delete my whole blog, or at least remove it from online access? That kind of kills the original point, though, and frankly, there’s a lot of writing in here that I’m proud of and want to share with my readers. And I’m certainly not going to comb through every previous post to censor the naughty bits that a conservative employer might frown upon. I guess I could migrate it to Facebook, where only people I have pre-approved will have access to it. It’s fair to say that most of my readers are probably already Facebook friends. But I don’t like Facebook Notes. It’s stiff and unwieldy. I can’t embed pictures in my entries. It doesn’t accept HTML/font modification of any kind. And of course, no one new who happens to hear about my blog can take a look without getting my rubber stamp of approval first. That’s just not in the spirit of what I feel like doing. And ‘sides, all my stuff’s here, anyway.

This leaves option four, taking a risk and saying, “to hell with it.” – which is more or less what I’m doing. That doesn’t mean I have no standards with regard to what I’ll post here from now on out, but it does mean that I am putting my foot firmly down with regard to my opinion of net-snooping. In short, information is easy to get these days – so easy, I say, that the gatherer of said information bears the responsibility of using it wisely more so than ever. No matter what you learn online, there are some things you probably shouldn’t do.

You shouldn’t cite Wikipedia on a formal research paper.

You shouldn’t send spam mail.

You shouldn’t make purchases with credit card numbers other than your own.

You shouldn’t use someone’s SSN to steal their identity.

You shouldn’t use MySpace to stalk teenage girls (or anyone, really).

And I’d like to add to that one more. You shouldn’t base your opinions of someone you barely know on information gleaned from sources that have nothing to do with your relationship to them. I can imagine what some of you are thinking now. That’s cute, Brett, but this is reality. And in reality, we keep our damn mouths shut and do what we’re told.

Yeah, well. Raise your hand if you know me well enough to know that I’m a bit of an idealist. *cough* Maybe more than a bit. *cough* Raise your hand if you’ve ever known me to challenge the status quo. I believe that within the bounds of sensibility, we all need to stand up for what we think from time to time, not even if, but most especially if it runs against the grain. I’ve never known real reality to be black and white. There’s a lot of gray to be enjoyed, if you can handle the big kid responsibility of knowing when it’s actually OK to color outside the lines and when you should listen to your internal filter.

So, wrapping up this blather and getting to the point: if you’re reading this and forming opinions of me, either deliberately or involuntarily, think about how well you really know me. Who are you? Are you my friend, my relative, my boss? Are you thinking about hiring me, firing me, or just unfriending me on Facebook? What do you know about the rest of me that I may not write about here?

And after all of that, if you still really are immature enough to take negative action against me for exercising my right to free speech within the bounds of reason, fine. Do it. I probably wouldn’t have wanted to associate with you anyway.

[/rant]

Not end entry, though. That got kind of bitchy, especially toward the end, so I’d rather conclude with some of the silliness and absurdity that Japan never fails to provide. Hold on to your hats, children…

** Fair Warning** Stop reading here if you have a weak stomach. This next part is maybe a little less than pleasant. I know – with a lead-in like that, I’ve grabbed your curiosity by the throat and you’re not going to stop reading no matter how badly you want to. Still, I did want to at least be fair. Kind of.

So, on the train into work a few mornings ago, I saw the most disgusting PDA (I think?) that exists in recent memory. Now, this may not mean much since I have the short-term memory of a goldfish, but…

Anyway, this rather overweight (only important because no one is fat here, so they already stood out) foreign couple – I’d guess them to be SE Asian – were cuddling and smooching in the middle of the crowd, whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears, etc. In and of itself, a little against the grain here, but not too nauseating, right? Well, the guy leans over for what I assume to be some more osculation Ha! Do you know that word? …but instead of any sort of traditional gesture of affection that we’re all accustomed to, he sticks his finger in his lady-friend’s nose. And then he removes something that I didn’t care to inspect in great detail. And then he eats it. Eats it. As in, he dined on her snot and boogers right in the middle of a densely packed train of shoulder-to-shoulder Japanese businesspeople at 9 o’clock in the goddamned morning. I understand that sometimes we skip breakfast and get a little peckish, but…

It was like someone bent over the social order that normally (more or less) exists here and raped it right in front of me. Oh, but that’s not all…!

The world couldn’t possibly be so kind as to end this horrible rape metaphor that was taking place right in front of my poor, virgin eyes. No, it continued…with her picking something off a bulbous growth on the inside of this man-child’s ear and YES. EATING IT. It was like watching monkeys grooming, except about 6 million times more horrible. It was like watching my childhood idol sodomize a cow. It was like…I don’t know, I got nothin’. I only remember briefly exchanging a mortified look with a nearby man about my age, and then…I may have blacked out briefly. Next I remember, they were getting off the train and I was muttering under my breath, “Oh, most merciful God...” No, not because I was about to eat. I don’t think I (or any other witnesses to this atrocity) ate for the rest of that day.

Final entry here

2009-04-01T22:00:00.000-07:00

Fer realz, yo. Facebook users won a victory against imperialism and related bullshit, so I'll be moving my blogging there for now, assuming I actually have time to write anything. This site will remain, though, to archive my time in Japan and to serve as a backup, should the Dark Side ever make another pass at Facebook. More here, if you don't know what I'm talking about:

http://www.facebook.com/group.php?sid=a6cdf0abf38c1d67123c77fc196e546c&gid=77069107432
http://www.thestandard.com/news/2009/02/18/facebook-caves-members-terms-service

So, if you like my writing and want to read more, find me on Facebook. If you don't know me well enough to find me on Facebook, leave a comment here with contact info and I'll eventually get back to you.

knock knock

2009-01-05T14:37:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure if anyone has even glanced at this for months; I know I certainly haven't added any content in next to forever. I find myself with a little free time, though, so I'll post a little bit and perhaps this will turn into a revitalization of the page, or at least a link to something new.

In mid-August I uprooted from Kosaka, Akita and now live in Honolulu, working in pursuit of a Japan-focused MBA. It's a tremendously busy program when school is in, but mercifully I am on winter break (HA! I said winter. Because trust me, it gets so cold here. I think the low today is about 70F/20C) right now, so I have a few moments to write. [insert long, thoughtful pause here] That was me wondering what to write next and realizing that virtually no practice at honestly creative writing in the last several months has (temporarily, I hope) shut down portions of my brain. This is no good...

Okay, so if a picture's worth a thousand words, I can turn this into a good-sized essay with a little pretty from my new local surroundings.

Kahala Beach, the closest one to my place that doesn't attract tourists like flies to honey.

Kahala again, looking up instead of sideways.

A bay? Very possibly Maunalua, but I can't remember.

The shores near Makapu'u. There's a lot of good climbing and hiking here, assuming that you don't mind the possibility of serious injury or death on jagged rocks.

Lighthouse SQUISH! I can actually do this with my mind, but it looked cooler with the fingers in the picture.

Sadly, my awesome camera phone from J-Land was stolen within a month or two of me coming here. Apparently petty theft is rampant in Hawaii, and uneducated beach trash will steal anything that isn't nailed down. Moral of the story? Stay in school, kids. It makes people less likely to beat you for stealing their technology that you can't even use in this country, anyway.

I have plenty more I want to write about Hawaii and Japan, too, so I'll update this more regularly in the coming days. Tune in next time...

The inevitable cultural comparison post

2008-07-15T22:28:00.000-07:00

*Erm, I thought I posted this...did anyone see it up here before now besides me? Anyway, here it is again, apparently because Blogger is retarded.*

As many of you are aware, I recently spent a little time in my home country, in the state of Minnesota. Returning to my hometown like that, most especially in the middle of (OK, toward the end of) my contract here, meant that for good or evil, I couldn't help but make comparisons all over the place.

Two problems arise here. First, even if one makes a point of sharing pros as well as cons, it's easy to come across as negative and pessimistic. The moment anything along the lines of, "I like it better over there because..." leaves your mouth, the vast majority of people who haven't been there are going to lose at least some interest in your words. Sure, it's the pinnacle of awesome in your mind to think about what you have and may still again experience abroad, but guess what. Your listeners probably can't relate, even if they make an earnest effort to do so.
Second, it's easy to forget that when you visit or return to your home country after many months away, you are seeing the world there much in the way a tourist would. You're probably not aware of all current events, and everything new that came to be while you were away is going to be exciting all at once!! likely prompting your friends and family there to raise an eyebrow if you giggle and gawk like a schoolgirl at everything that by now, they consider commonplace.
That said, here are my comparisons and observations I just spent the last two paragraphs naysaying :)

Driving on the right side of the road again does not suck as much as I expected. As you may be aware, countries in which one drives on the left side have the driver's seat on the opposite side, too, so regardless of where you are, the center line is still right next to you. It seems to only take a day or two to get used to it, whichever direction I am going.

On that topic, America has rude, asshole drivers that Japan lacks. Japan may still get the shit end of the stick, though, because here we have ignorant drivers. Sure, they exist in the U.S., too, but the quantity of them here and acts of absolutely mind-blowing stupidity that they commit have put me in a number of situations that could have ended quite a bit worse than they did.

Anime fans suck so much less here. Most Japanese people understand that the word "otaku" is a derogatory remark, much like "dipshit" or "psychopath" in English, and not a badge of honor to cling to with every ounce of your being. While I'm not a hardcore fan of the cosplaying subculture, I do also have to respect the fuckton of effort the j-folks put into designing all of these costumes by hand. You'll never see a cardboard Gundam mech here.
I still won't eat American McDeath, but Japanese McWhatever is actually palatable, if confusing at times. The stores are clean, the employees want you to be there (!!), and the food somehow isn't quite so gut-wrenching. I hear it's due to the Australian beef they use which is apparently higher quality; this may actually be a fair trade for the fact that Aussie cows fart enough to negatively effect the global ecology. And some of the crazy shit they try here...continue, if you dare (look closely and you can even see the bacon in there). I so wish I was kidding...

Or how about a shrimp patty with mushroom sauce... *gag*

And if this one doesn't make you weep for our future...

There's so much other crap out there, but I've been working on this post for too long and need to move on. Finé.

Nose pickery

2008-06-16T21:11:00.000-07:00

I so wish I had brought my camera to class today, because one boy in the 2nd row from the front was going at his nose in such an industrious fashion that one could practically hear the drill bits whirring from a distance. I hope he didn't hurt himself. Both Sugar and Saint are out on business trips today, so I had this sannensei class to myself. Since last year, the sannensei classes have been divided into advanced and basic classes, a tactic that is at least in theory a great idea. The basic division moves through the textbook at a slower pace, covering the fundamental grammar points the kids need to learn in greater depth, and the upper division moves through at a faster pace and eventually delves into adventures like free conversation, one of the greatest acts of comedy ever visited upon this quiet mountain town.

Anyway, this class was the basic division of sannensei English, and they should ideally be covering material like the passive voice and present perfect tense, but in reality have trouble counting past ten. And yet, I'm obligated to stay more or less on track and teach them the prescribed grammar of the week...regardless of how each lesson builds on the previous one, and without said previous knowledge one can't be expected to be promoted much beyond the rank of CLUELESS.
It's not like there are security cameras in the classrooms, though, so on the rare occasions when I have a class to myself, I have a bit more freedom than usual. At first, I (foolishly) thought that a review of the grammar at work here would be a good idea, but these kids were radiating such profound disinterest that I nearly lapsed into a coma, right in the front of class.
OK, no grammar. Time for a little song and dance act. If they were going to view me as the bad guy here, I was determined to at least be a villain with personality, so I started picking on them. See, the lower division kids may rarely study English and they may be completely unable to hold a conversation, but they do still know more than they are willing to let on. It's getting them to admit that (both to themselves and to me) that can be akin to pulling teeth. With the grammar already up on the chalkboard, I had them fill in the blanks with words they knew to make a present perfect sentence. The trick with getting even the most basic crap like this to work, though, is to ignore no one. Single out the quiet kids, stare, tease, dance circles around them - anything to make them laugh and realize that it's acceptable to have a little fun here. Even the most apathetic always break, eventually.

Students slip through the cracks of society and become destined for futures of absolutely nothing here only because too many teachers let them get away with it. After all, what the hell kind of junior high school student is going to step up to the plate if nothing is expected of them? The ones who really make an effort to disappear, though, are ironically the ones who fail most spectacularly at avoiding my attention. There's one in particular that comes to mind - for the sake of this blog, we'll call her Clam, since she closes up just like the real thing whenever she's in a classroom desk. She's one of those whom I know to be perfectly socially capable, since I see her talk - usually quite animatedly - with her friends, and have also spoken with her in Japanese in between classes. Any time a lesson starts, though, that clamshell comes down and she closes up tighter than a...well, insert your favorite metaphor here.
I'm a little shocked that most teachers here are content to ignore a giant mollusk sitting in (on?) a desk; I think Clam's attempt to crawl into her shell makes her stand out quite obviously amongst a sea of uniformed, black-haired children. It's actually a little funny to watch, because as you approach her, her head instinctively lowers as she makes an intensive study of the pleats of her skirt. Back away, head comes up a bit. Forward - down again. Students here won't flat out disobey a direct instruction from a teacher, though, and my first one is always to make eye contact with me. So, the shell comes up eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeever so slightly...she peeks out...giggles when I make strange faces at her, but usually lightens up a bit. It seems to have become a running joke - I'm aware she's trying to remain unnoticed, and she knows this. She still acts as though she is trying to avoid my attention, and makes a dramatic show of how much it pains her whenever I call on her. Anyway, I hope she's getting something out of this big pony show, because I'm not sure any other teacher here, no matter how young or liberal they are, would upset the "harmony of things" to mess around a bit and draw this girl out of her shell for even an hour.

Anyway, that's that. There is also the upper division, though, and managing their classes has been one of my favorite experiences here so far. Anyone who has worked as a teacher before (or even just tried to impart information to the apathetic) knows how much it sucks to struggle with unmotivated students - it's not that they're necessarily stupid, they just don't give a shit. This is the complete opposite. My upper division kids are the biggest reason I miss last year's sannensei, many of whom have gone on to the better high schools in this area. Sure, their skills are more developed because they actually study on their own from time to time, but more importantly is the fact that they're just fun to work with because they want to be there. Free conversation was something that Saint and I came up with for last year's class after they finished the prescribed, brain-numbing, gov't-stamped-and-approved New Horizon textbook that really should be burned on sight.
The process is simple enough - giving the students a topic and then leading them in some conversation activities that require them to speak entirely on their own instead of parroting cheesy dialogue from a textbook - but it was the result that often slew me. Some of the real choice ones (and yes, these all really did come from 14-year olds in free conversation in English without any assistance) were:

"Don't pretend to know everything."
"I like George Bush because he is strong and he has many chemical weapons."
"Shut your face hole."
I want to meet Arika Takarano because she is my goddess. All of her music is very good. I think she will become a religion."
"When we got on the ship, I saw some dolphins. They were cute. I like their fins. Maybe they were delicious."
"The person I want to meet is a secret because I'm embarrassed. He is very beautiful!"
"I don't remember why I was an elementary school student. It was annoying."

Beyond that, there was something just priceless in seeing my students get into savage, cutthroat arguments in English whenever a difference of opinion came up. Considering that they barely knew more than a thousand vocabulary (at least, in theory) by the time they finished the 3rd year textbook, it was rather amusing to see what they managed to put together. To this date I still haven't quite nailed down the right adjective to describe the scene where a cute little uniformed Japanese schoolgirl points her finger at her classmate and shouts in heavily accented English, "Shut the fuck* up!"

Surreal, maybe?

*No, that wasn't one of the vocabulary in the textbook.

Updating my life

2008-06-04T17:38:00.000-07:00

The word on the street is that two big events in my life have been decided recently, but since my streets are several thousand miles from most of yours, I'll write about it all here.

First, I will be visiting Minnesota in July. I will be there starting on July 2, and am definitely planning to attend CONvergence. The Romulan Consulate is returning for our 3rd year now, and will naturally be toting buckets of alcoholic beverages that make you barf blue. We will be gracing cabana room 109 from Thursday through Saturday night, and as always, we will have a better party than the Klingons. Those of you on Facebook should look for an ad for it there sometime soon.

The other big item is that I will not being staying in Japan for another year beyond this one. I've been accepted to the University of Hawaii Shidler College of Business's Japan-focused MBA program, a 21 month program that includes in the latter half a several month internship in Tokyo - here's to hoping that this leads to riches and fame (or at least the former), because the cost of tuition and living in Hawaii will probably make me cry.
I very much doubt that my schedule will allow me to return to Minnesota in between leaving Japan and moving to Hawaii, so I will do my best to see everyone at CON and in the week following.

Aside from those two snippets, there have been a few other current events here and there, so I'll try to hit them all in this post...

I may have mentioned from time to time that while living here, I've been training in the Japanese sword art of iaido under the town dentist here in Kosaka. Along with Mike and Tristen, two other English teaching friends of mine here, I tested for and earned my 1-kyu rank in Akita City this last weekend. For those unfamiliar with martial arts rankings, 1-kyu is the rank that comes before a first degree black belt. I hope to continue with this and take my first degree black belt test sometime around December, but that of course assumes that I'm able to find a good dojo in Hawaii. I hear that there are several, though, so that shouldn't be too much of a worry.
My only concern now is my knee, which has been misbehaving recently under the strain of one particular form that it doesn't care for. I'm working on resting and strengthening it now, so I anticipate being back up to full speed before long.

What else...my parents and sister visited Japan recently, so I got to babysit them for a couple weeks. The big surprise for me, though, was my supervisor's reaction to the whole affair. Now, Kosaka's a small town that doesn't exactly see scads of foreigners (or really, tourists from anywhere). This means that adding 3 to the current count more than doubled the gaijin population here, at least for a bit. I didn't quite expect this to be cause for trumpets and fanfare, but I was apparently wrong. When my supervisor caught word of this, he asked if it'd be OK if we have a "mini-mini-welcome party."　Sounded simple enough, and I was of course happy to give him the opportunity to have a little fun with the foreigners. He went on to arrange a catered dinner that at least 40 people showed up to, including a bunch of my coworkers, the superintendent, the chairperson of the Board of Education, KJH's principal, etc...
Probably the highlight was when my supervisor announced a surprise performance - he had arranged for 4 of my students who play taiko drums to do a brief show for us!
I know all four of them pretty well; they're some of my better current sannensei students. Even being giggly teenage girls, though, they managed to keep this whole thing a secret from me, so it was pretty cool to see them show up and do their thing. The little introduction speech they put together in English was cute, too. I thought I had some better pictures of their show, too, but somehow they just vanished like a fart in the wind...
Isn't technology a joy?

The weather here, after securely orbiting Planet Suck for quite some time, is now awesome and so I am biking every day I can. Lake Towada is my favorite for that so far, so here are a number of pictures from recent visits:

Mmm, nummy blue water...

Can you spot itty-bitty Tristen at the bottom of that cliffside descent?

If you think it says "Watch out for bears," you might be right.

Lake Towada Shrine. Mercifully, the gift shop is too far to the right to show up in this picture.

A tiny shrine on an island that's actually in and not alongside Lake Towada. They haven't put a gift shop here yet, but I'm sure plans are in the works.
Okay, in all fairness, the tourist traps are not as prevalent as I make them sound. And most of the stuff they sell is actually pretty cool - at least, assuming you didn't grow up alongside it.

Why do I have a picture of a dangling bug? I don't know. It was neat, and Japan has big bugs.

This was probably a lot cooler in person than it is in photograph, but I still feel compelled to post it. Underneath (and really, all around) one fountain at Towada Shrine, there was a great cacophony of very mysterious noises that we eventually realized was the croaking of an entire civilization of frogs and such. What you're seeing here is a direct shot underneath the fountain, as well as a few piles of frog eggs that appeared to be...quivering. I would have liked to get a better picture, but I couldn't see too well under there and didn't know if there was something waiting to eat my camera (or hand).

My byôkyû

2008-05-25T06:46:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-05-12T23:34:00.000-07:00

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...

Lost without 'er

2008-04-30T17:44:00.000-07:00

Alas, I'm not (this time, at least) lamenting about the lack of beautiful women in northern Akita...nay, this post is more me reminiscing on how fucked I'd be without my car. See, I got to experience this for the last couple days, and it was exciting, to say the least.

It started with me returning from Tokyo, a long and arduous journey of about 5-6 hours by train and sometimes bus. To make a long story slightly shorter, I had taken a different route than I usually do to get to Tokyo, and so while I was able to get back home just fine, my car was parked at my friend's house in Aikawa, about an hour's drive away. My plan was to pick it up the following day.
Now, in most of Japan, the solution to this would be simple - take a train to Aikawa and drive my car back to Kosaka. Kosaka is so close to the ass-end of nowhere, though, that it doesn't have trains. Until just a few months ago we had a freight train that made a few stops here a day, and trust me, I would have seriously considered stealthily hitching a ride on it had it not already gone the way of the dodo. As it stood, though, my only apparent option was the (ludicrously overpriced ~$8 to a city 25km away!) bus.
It was evening, but the buses - *cough* according to the schedule, anyway - run to Odate (I was going to meet some friends there and hitch a ride back to Aikawa) as late as 7:something. I got on the last bus and rode along happily for maybe 20 or 30 minutes, content that the evening was going well so far. Aaaaaaaaand then the feces hit the fan. I was the only person on the bus as it pulled over at one of its stops, an onsen (hot spring) in between Kosaka and Odate.

Bus Driver: Yukisawa Onsen, final stop!
Me: *WTF* Erm, final stop?
BD: That's correct.
Me: Um, according to the schedule in Kosaka, this bus goes to Odate station.
BD: No sir, this bus goes back to Kosaka now.
Me: Okaaaay, ah, I don't have a car and I was going to meet some people in Odate this evening...
BD: Not to worry, Odate's not far. Just walk down this road (he points to the road the bus normally travels on) and you'll be there in no more than an hour.
Me: An hour.
BD: Yup.
Me: And you can't go as far as Odate, even the edge of the city.
BD: No, my route goes back to Kosaka now.
Me, thinking: What fucking route? There's no one riding, and it's the end of the night, AND the schedule in Kosaka lists this bus as going to Odate, just like every other one does!
Me: ...
Me, finally speaking: I see. An hour. Understood. I'll be off then.

I glared daggers at him, and a string of expletives that would have made Chevy Chase blush ran through my head...but "negotiating" with Japanese people who think they are just following the rules is less effective than trying to burn ice. I set out on my cross-country trek, hoping but not really believing I'd be in central Odate within the hour.

If this had been a wide city road with stoplights, sidewalks, and the like, this whole task would have been a cinch. The "if" at the beginning of that last sentence probably clued you in, though, that this was not the case. Nay, the Jukai Line between Kosaka and Odate is a winding 1-lane nightmare on which people of questionable driving skills (and sometimes, sobriety) travel at speeds that would make an SR-71 Blackbird green with envy. Oh, and it was night.
I tried to walk along the side of the road at first, but after being passed (and possibly almost killed) by a few vehicles, I decided against this method of travel and detoured to the now defunct railroad, along which my journey continued. The railroad more or less traveled alongside the car road, generally staying within 50 meters or so of it, so even if it went to a different ultimate destination I was confident that it would get me where I needed to be. Eventually. With the flashlight on my cell phone I was able to make steady progress. Technically this was illegal, walking along the railway, but there are really no cops around here and I wasn't so much in the mood for dying on someone's hood, so it seemed like a fine option.
It was, for the most part, except that surrounded by darkness and forest as I was, I did not realize that I was going up a slight but steady incline, until...
What you're seeing here is a sign that reads "Do Not Enter." It was affixed to a small barrier in the railroad which I could easily step over, and then...a rail bridge. Yes, the narrow kind that has no railings on either side and spans a gap. I really wish I could have gotten a good picture of this, but my camera-phone-thing is just not quite that awesome. Due to the darkness I couldn't ascertain the exact depth of said gap, but based on the treetops I saw below me, I gathered that falling off would be kind of lethal-ish. The other side was probably about 15 or 20 meters away. This left me with an interesting choice to make. Admit defeat, turn back, and walk all the way back to Kosaka? Or risk life and limb to accomplish a near-pointless goal that could easily be stalled one day and attempted again in a far safer fashion? The correct choice was obvious.
Mercifully, the bridge had an iron grate running over the wooden beams that criss-crossed the rails. I considered for a moment that until recently it had supported the weight of an entire diesel train engine on a daily basis. Yeah, it could probably handle my 80kg. Flashlight up, I proceeded into the gloom.
As I am not publishing this blog from the afterlife (or a hospital bed, for that matter), you can probably guess how it went. Just put one foot in front of the other foot, then put your foot down, down, down...
That was the last really exciting part of my journey. The rest involved walking, more walking, and some walking, too. I actually left the tracks when I arrived at a small village on the outskirts of Odate and used the roads there for a bit. 9pm, my scheduled time to meet with my peeps in Odate, was swiftly approaching, though, and I knew that I still had a ways to go. Crap. I honestly didn't expect my cell phone to get a signal out there, but miraculously it came through for me. I had paused at a rest stop - well, really just a parking lot with an outhouse and a few of Japan's ubiquitous vending machines - to get some refreshing and refueling
and was in the middle of a conversation with my friends, asking if they could come and pick me up, when a some random old guy appeared, practically out of nowhere (really, I think he may have just materialized from the mists lingering over the rice fields), and hesitantly asked me if I was having some trouble. We quickly established that I speak Japanese, and I gave him the short version of my evening's adventures. "Odate?" he asked. "That's no more than 10 minutes away. My car's right over here; let me give you a ride."
Turns out he saw me from his home at the edge of the aforementioned outskirt village and walked the block or so to the rest stop to see if I was lost. He didn't realize from a distance that I was a foreigner, and admitted that he was quite surprised when he got closer and realized that I was like four meters taller than him. He was kind enough to drop me off at a strip mall in Odate, and earned major Brownie Points (and a spare Minnesota post card I had in my bag) for his troubles.
...You know, I think I kind of like countries where people trust random strangers they meet at night not to knife them and steal everything they own.

Our phone has chickens

2008-04-11T06:13:00.000-07:00

I kid you not. One of the phones in the teachers' office here occasionally cries out (or crows? caws? Cock-a-doodle-dos? I'm not really sure how to describe it) with a variety of animalistic noises that amount to one of the funniest mechanical failures I have seen in years. I've heard everything from a dull purr to a flat out rooster call, and I honestly wouldn't be shocked at this point if it teaches itself to roar like a lion.

Things have been...well, not dull around here recently, not exactly. I think “scattered” might be a word for it. I've had a number of small events and occurrences that strike me as worthy of mention at the time, but I have the short-term memory of a goldfish, so often I...hey, a keyboard! Where'd that come from...?

I've been terrible about updating this thing recently, and I know it. Every time I sit down and try to write, something somewhere somehow happens. It also doesn't help that this site is no longer accessible from work, thank you new site blocker. Sure, I can write entries in a word doc and post them from home later, but generating ideas is only made more difficult when I can't see what I've previously written.

So, what has happened in my life recently that matters? I last wrote about graduation, and I'm sad to see my sannensei gone, particularly since all the smart ones are now going to high school in neighboring cities, so pretty much no chance of me running into them. After graduation came spring break, and my first visit from home. Melissa and I bummed around this area for a bit, went to a lot of hot springs (this area is known for them) and then traveled south, passing through one of the more beautiful areas of Japan I've been to so far. Yes, here comes the photo album:

Here you are seeing Dewa Sanzan, three mountains sacred to Japan's Shinto faith. Well, you're not so much seeing the mountains per se, since the amount of snow remaining on the ground made two of them inaccessible, but the third one is a bit more tame, involving a walk through the forest and then a mere 2,446 steps to the summit. We completed that hike in a lazy, meandering two or three hours, though it supposedly only takes an hour if you don't dawdle. But why ever would we want to do that?

Damn hippie liberals...

I, too, long for the day when I might smoke a clean and tender heart. Wait, what??!

The blooming of sakura (cherry blossoms) in Japan has moved way beyond national pastime to something more like "frenzied obsession." Every year their blooming is calculated to the day in each region, and Japanese crowd the parks in hordes to stare, marvel, socialize, and often times drink themselves into hopeless oblivion. It's all in the name of living in harmony with nature, though, so who's to complain?

Now, don't get me wrong, they are pretty and all...but to me (and, I suspect, the majority of foreign guys here) it's really just an excuse to get stark raving drunk and flirt with Japanese women.

And back up north, where there is still tons of snow on the ground. On a little nature sojourn near the School in the Sky, a few of my elementary students discovered vines hanging from some of the trees. The vines were rather dead, but still strong enough to support them...your mileage may vary if you are not a 60 lb. Japanese child, though (see below).

Having experienced the beginning of a new school year, I now actually have quite a bit more to write about, but I'm going to leave that to the next post (which won't take a month to get written, I promise!). More important to get this one out there for now, so people stop bugging me about it.

There is wildlife in my tea!

2008-03-17T04:02:00.001-07:00

*shrug* Seemed a better way to start this off than most of the other (cliché) thoughts I had. Said wildlife was actually a special occasion brew. Mornings normally are accompanied here by a cup of green tea from (you guessed it) Tea Lady, but as today is the ceremony of Kosaka Junior High School’s 61st graduating class, we get freaky tea. It was…unique, and not at all in a bad way. It was slightly salty when it first hit my lips, but it quickly faded into a light, almost-but-not-quite sweet aftertaste that made me ponder the meaning of existence for a good few seconds.

I had already been awake for a while by this point, as before coming to school I did some quick interpretation for the mayor because he had some foreign guests who were leaving that morning. So, arrive at school, drink the super tea, and before long the ceremony is under way. I’m not going to waste much space on this – if you’ve seen one graduation ceremony you’ve seen them all, and this one was not in the least bit different. Songs were sung, tears were cried, names were called, etc, etc. We had a few visiting dignitaries including the mayor (hey, long time no see!), the president of the Parent Teacher Mafi…*cough* Association¹, and some alumni who had gone on to lead exciting lives as salarymen…but nothing really worth pooping a brick over. One of them actually had an interesting factoid to share, though: when he graduated from KJH 45 years ago there were over 1000 students here, and his classroom had 55 people (about the size of today’s entire graduating class). This is actually hinting at a much deeper topic, but you’ll have to wait until a future post for that one. Trying to cover it here might result in me writing a four-page tangent.
¹If you work in the Japanese education system, the PTA owns your soul. They influence the school’s budget, the curriculum, and the length of rope you will hang yourself with if you fuck up. Do not defy them or you will be lucky to merely have your kneecaps shattered.

So, the ceremony was…ceremonial, the kids finished signing each others’ yearbooks, and my hand was about to cramp up and fall off. From the start I had been writing a few meaningful sentences to each kid who asked me to sign, and then when they started lining up in droves I of course couldn’t skimp and seem like I was playing favorites, so everyone got a few sentences. Everyone. Hands much more accustomed to typing than writing were not happy with me after that. The obligatory picture time followed, as kids poured out the front of the building to congratulate each other, shoot the shit, and throw each other (and some teachers) into the air.

Lunch was awesome. It being a Saturday we had no prepared school lunch, so we called in a box lunch strike and had these amazing bentos (that I really should have taken a picture of) airdropped to our immediate location. I <3 Japanese food.

After that, though, things got a little iffy, by which I mean complicated…by which I mean Japanese. All of us teachers and the principal gathered in the gymnasium again to hold a second graduation ceremony for one girl who couldn’t make it to the first one in the morning. Had she been sick? No. Did she have some unavoidable conflict or crisis? No. This took place because she is so incredibly shy that she cannot deal with appearing in front of a large group of people. This is actually somewhat common in Japan – at least compared to other countries – and there are some people in this country who literally have not left their homes in years because they suffer from this disorder. I don’t know how much research has been done on it, but I know that it is curable; I recall actually seeing some news about it recently in which one guy surmounted this hurdle by getting involved in the martial arts. Anyway, while it was certainly compassionate to hold a special ceremony to adapt to this girl’s difficulties, I had to wonder whether she should be graduating from a normal junior high school.
If you recall waaaaay back to the post called Compulsory English and you! you may remember how in Japan, everyone graduates. One need only show up on the first and last day of junior high school to walk away with a diploma. I personally remember this girl coming to class only once in my 7 months here, and even then I was asked not to call on her because this would “make her uncomfortable.” I know for a fact that my school is equipped to deal with special needs students, and my opinion of the special ed here has only improved with time. I also know the two special ed students, and she was not one of them. As best I can tell, this girl sat in her house and hid under a blanket for the last few years, and now she has a diploma. Sigh.

Most of the women (teachers) wore full dress kimono for the event, and so we had a little photo shoot afterwards to commemorate them getting all dolled up. Ms. Giggles was kind of funny; she was constantly adjusting and fretting over how her kimono (incidentally the least form-flattering garment on the planet) made her chest look small. She even shouted at one point something akin to, “Damn it, I’m Japanese! I already don’t have much to work with! Who thought up these stupid things anyway…”

I present to you here the ladies of KJH:
And really, what would this post be worth without a few photos of my graduating class on their final day? Ladies and gentlemen, the class of Heisei 20 (2008):
And another, this time celebrating outside:
And finally, in dress uniform (1/2 the bunch, anyway):

The beginning of the end

2008-03-07T23:10:00.000-08:00

Today looked like it would be a dull end to a dreadfully boring week. The only class on the schedule for me was English, 1st period, and I quickly found out that there was no need for me to go – Saint would be passing back some recent tests and explaining the answers so there was nothing for me to do there. With that canceled, I now had nearly eight hours of jack and shit to do. Oh well, time to waste an hour or so on teh internets, right?

Wrong. This last week it turns out that we had some network wiring and stuff updated, and while they were putzing around with that the technicians also tightened the screws on the site blocker that had always been in place. As this is a place of work, websites with dating, violence, porn, or religious (go ahead and make the obvious joke about these two being related, if you must) themes were of course banned – one would expect this. I did not, however, count on Facebook [casual communication], foreign food/beer websites [adult indulgences], and even my friend’s airsoft site [weaponry] also getting the nix. M’eh, I guess Big Brother is going to be watching a little closer from now on. I still have my blog to work on, right?
Nope! That’s now a [message board]. Just for humor, I tried an actual message board, WotC’s Dungeons and Dragons forums, and thought I’d see what would happen. Seems it’s a [game in general], so no love there either. Sigh. My internet wanderings have been chopped off at the proverbial ankle. I still have my email (for now), but not much else.

Well, reading one of the e-books on my flashdrive or writing something were certainly options, but in all honestly I wasn’t in the mood to stare at a screen. Ms. Giggles was just as busy as me, having by this point already endured a rigorous hour of watching the students practice lining up for graduation over and over and over and OVER AND OVER! to the point of near complete mental breakdown.

Pardon the interjection here, but Elvis just gave me this year’s photo of all the teachers. We had it taken by a professional photographer maybe two months ago, and my God it’s bad. Like, laugh-out-loud-I’m-not-sure-I’ll-ever-take-myself-or-any-of-you-seriously-again bad. Here it is in digital format, but since you may not be able to see all the details, I’ll add a bit of description.
The "professional" photographer forgot to mention to me that my jacket was slipping a bit, so it looks like it's hanging off me like a cape. I'm the only one in the whole picture who's most definitely smiling, though I do count 3.8 hints of a smile scattered throughout. Finally, check out that row of tennis shoes in front, matched up impeccably with the suits and ties. Sexy, eh?

Anyway, Giggles and I needed a project, and how. We were on the verge of throwing random objects off the 4th floor balcony just to see which would hit the ground first. Let’s see, 1kg bag of rice and 2nd year textbook…ready…GO! Seriously, though, we were lucky to have both Saint and Elvis come to the rescue, or we may very well have done something illegal.

Elvis has really embraced having me here as his first full-time ALT, and so he had this idea of further internationalizing the school by putting up English translations of all the door signs at room entrances. Normally each room has a two-sided sign like this:

And he wanted to have one side display the room’s purpose in English. This wasn’t to be some half-assed whim, though; we needed signs that would stand the test of time and be around for future generations of uniformed little students to ignore or throw things at.

Out come the rulers, the laminator, the exact-o knives, and other such utensils of the trade. I surveyed the school and translated all of the signs into English, which was a harder task than one might expect. Japanese is one of those languages in which translation is never an exact science; it is so completely different from English that expressions that make perfect sense in Japanese are awkward at best when directly translated, so one has to be creative and really look into the use and meaning of a word before choosing an appropriate English substitute.
Take 被服室 (hifukushitsu) for example. This basically means “clothing room,” but what is a clothing room used for? Is it storage, or perhaps a changing room? I had to know what happened here so that I could make the translation of this place less ambiguous. In Japanese its use is obvious; this is where a sort of home economics class in which the making of clothing is taught. It’s not the only home ec-type class taught here, though, so we had to go with something a little bit more specific than that, while still fitting it on the display sign. We eventually settled on “Sewing Classroom,” which may not be perfect but was good enough for our less-than-exacting standards.

So, we finished with the printing and the laminating of the signs, and luckily this was all taking place on the day before graduation. This meant that the entire student body was in the gymnasium practicing for the ceremony, and I had the school to myself. I ran through the whole place, Mission Impossible-style, stealthily inserting all of the English signs in their appropriate places. The goal, of course, was to Englishify the entire school before the students finished and returned to their classrooms, so this way we teachers could deny everything. “What do you mean, new signs? They haven’t always been bilingual?” Many of my students are gullible enough to not pick up on the ruse, either. Yeah, we’re immature like that. It was a close call, but I slipped into the teachers’ room right as the kids got back.

That was our fabulous time-wasting activity for the day, but getting waaay back to the title of this post, it was also the final day for my sannensei students. The whole day, most especially wandering through the empty halls, was fraught with that feeling – what is that emotion called, that sense of everything coming to a conclusion? Not nostalgia…it’s somewhere between a wistful sadness and a sense of accomplishment and pride, I think. We’ll just leave it at mixed emotions. I really am proud of my sannensei; the majority of them worked hard for this and will have many wonderful memories of this time. I will miss their classes and I hope at least a few stay in contact with me. For better or for worse, tomorrow it all comes to an end.

A Marriage in the Family

2008-03-01T04:21:00.000-08:00

I thought for way too long about how I wanted to start this one, but ultimately got sick of thinking and just started typing. This last weekend, not one but two of my coworkers got married - yes, to each other. If you'll take a moment to recall some of my previous nickname posts, the happy new couple are Ninja T of KJH and Closet Naughty of School in the Sky.

Ninja T is the Japanese teacher at KJH, and he's recently become my study aid, by no fault of his own. When there's nothing to do at work I sometimes study Japanese, and when I came across complicated material I used to default to asking my English-teaching coworkers about it. One day I was stumped by a particularly minute detail that I asked Mrs. Freckles about; she jokingly told me to leave her alone and ask the guy who teaches this kind of thing. It didn't take long for Ninja T to become my go-to guy for all such obscurities.

I've known Closet Naughty on a personal level for a while longer; she sits right next to me at SitS (sits...SitS?? oh nevermind, it was unintentional anyway) so we're always talking about this, that, or the other thing. I know a bit more about her and I knew that she had a boyfriend...I did not have a freaking clue that her guy worked with me until their marriage was announced! Granted, they work at separate schools and I pretty much only see each of them at work, but I still have no idea how this never came up even in passing. Ninja T seems to have shinobi-esque qualities beyond those of his table tennis game.

Anyway, on to the event itself. A Japanese wedding, much like an American one, is a two-part affair - the ceremony and the reception. In Japan, however, the ceremony is reserved for close friends and immediate family, and the reception is held separately.
The banquet hall it was held at is in Akita City a few hours away, but since so many of the guests were coming from the Kosaka/Kazuno area, there was a tour bus reserved for getting us there and back. The reception was an afternoon function, so the bus left in the morning and the ride there was pretty quiet - everyone had either fallen asleep or else was wishing they had not yet woken up. We arrived sometime after 11 and had at least an hour to kill before anything got started. This was when it dawned on me what rednecks some of my coworkers are. Yes, just like pretty much every other country, Japan has folk who lack knowledge of the finer points of sophistication. We were all slowly congregating in the lobby of the hotel where this banquet hall was located, and generally making small talk about how we were bored and had nothing to do. So, we sat around in our expensive suits and tried to look important for a bit, but it wasn't long before one of the teachers from SitS hefted his briefcase up, cracked it open, and started passing out cans of cheap beer to everyone.

...Picture, if you will, an elegantly decorated lobby, adorned with chairs worth more than your car and chandeliers worth more than your life. Small clusters of impeccably dressed guests are enjoying small talk on the latest trends and fashions; they are the very image of savoir faire. A uniformed maître d' passes, his practiced eye watching for any sign of guests' discontent.
Suddenly a mighty belch ripples across the room, and in the ensuing silence one can hear a pin drop. It is of course followed by a string of humble apologies, but the damage has been done and the scene has been set. I'm just finishing tuning up my banjo, but alas, the hoedown will have to wait. The bride and groom emerge from double doors at the far end of the room and begin their procession toward the entrance of the banquet hall.

Here they are, flanked by parents on either side. This is unfortunately the only decent picture I got of them in traditional Japanese wedding raiment. The Japanese wedding reception, as it currently stands, appears to borrow heavily from the American version most of us are accustomed to, but it does have a few unique points, as well. We sometimes say (mostly in jest) that the wedding is for the woman - it's her moment to look absolutely astounding and to bask in the adoration of friends and family. In Japan this is doubly (triply?) true, as it is customary for the bride to change gowns at least two times during the event and make a new grand entrance each time.

Here's the lovely bride in costume #2, next to their beast of a wedding cake. Yes, it really was bigger than her.

On to costume #3, as well as a wonderful idea on the part of the bride and groom. When they made their grand entrance this time around, the lights were first dimmed. From the start there had been an unlit candle on each table, and as they passed through the banquet hall they stopped at each table and lit the candle together.

It wouldn't be a proper wedding in any country if friends and family didn't get to devolve into clownish idiocy and have many laughs at the new couple's expense. Here, the bride and groom had to take turns drawing these big hanging scrolls out of a box; each one had a household chore written on it that the lucky winner would be responsible for for the rest of their married life. The two pictured have been claimed by the groom, and say "Bath tub cleaning" and "Taking in the laundry (after it has dried)." This one:
tested their respective knowledge of their new spouse. They were simultaneously asked a question about each other, starting with easy stuff like favorite color, and gradually getting more personal and invasive. They had to write their answers on separate whiteboards which were then displayed for everyone to laugh at. The part where they had to draw a caricature of each other was particularly rich.

And speaking of rich...this whole event, from the decor to the (amazing) meal we were served, reeked of costing a fortune. Either I'm way off in my calculations or someone tapped the Bank of Mommy and Daddy for this one - most especially considering that we got PRESENTS! on the way out, too. I'm not talking little bell-and-whistle souvenirs, either. Each guest got a gift bag which contained a designer chocolate cake and a gift catalog from which each person could select one item to have sent to them at a later date. I went with a pretty hardcore cooking knife.

The way home was inevitably peppered with alcohol consumption; after all, Japan has no open-bottle law, so long as the driver is sober. This was only the natural result of putting a bunch of Akita rednecks on a coach bus for three hours, with restroom breaks at convenience stores that sell liquor...

Ninja T, Closet Naughty - on the off chance that you ever read this, congratulations. I never would have guessed it until I saw the ceremony in person, but you two make an excellent couple. I look forward to much more teaching with each of you, not to mention a plethora of stupid banana jokes.

ATMs and cops

2008-02-16T07:03:00.000-08:00

I just got back from Tokyo, where I slew the GMAT like the tyrannical beast it is, and also saw the first real metal concert I've seen in months, but that's only a lead-in, not the topic of this post. Nay, it's the last leg of my trip home that gets the limelight this time. On the day I returned I first had lunch with a friend, and then hopped on the Shinkansen (bullet train) for the 2.5 hour trip back north. This was uneventful, but when I arrived in Morioka I had to take a highway bus back to the Kosaka region, as no trains go that far out into the Great Unknown. This was planned; being a bit short on cash was not. "No problem," you say, right? "Just use a credit card." I tried that, and got shot down at the ticket window. Japan is not a big plastic payment society. Cash is the way of things, and everyone seems to carry enormous wads of it in their wallets; the almost complete lack of violent crime here makes that a common occurrence, if not one I'm always comfortable with. To put it in perspective, in a bad year you might need to count on toes to figure out the number of murders nationwide.
So anywho, what's your next thought here? Is it something like, "No problem, just go to an ATM?"

From an American point of view this seems like a viable option, and over here it almost is. They of course have ATMs, and in any civilized city it's not hard to find one compatible with your bank. Not all of them cooperate with every bank, but this is hardly the inconvenient part. No, the bitch of this situation is that ATMs close. Yes, just like stores run by living, breathing people, ATMs have hours of operation. Apparently the adorable computer image on the screen does in fact get exhausted after a long day of...being digital...and needs to go home for a hot meal, a bath, and bed. Or hell, maybe it prefers to unwind in a more lively fashion and is cruising the town for ale and whores in the evenings. Point is, it ain't where it should be. In Kosaka, my bank's ATMs close at 7pm on weekdays and 5pm on weekends (despite the lack of ale and whores, as far as I'm aware).

I arrived in Morioka around 5:30, saw that I didn't have enough cash for a bus ride home, and immediately hit up the ATM at the train station. No luck. It wouldn't say why, it just gave me a obnoxiously polite "Piss off, I'm not going to help you" message. It certainly wasn't closed; I was able to get as far as inserting my card, putting in my PIN, and requesting a cash amount before it told me this. Sigh.

Japan has a convenient solution to most problems like this. I stopped by the train station's koban (police box) to get some advice. Kobans are like mini police stations, and they are all over the place. There are usually one or two cops there, they know the area really well, they have maps, and, like I said, they're cops. If you ever find yourself in real trouble, you can also go there for emergency assistance. Anyway, the guy there helped me out by drawing me a map to an ATM that he thought would work with my bank, but alas, it did not. As before, this one was on, but when I asked for cash it told me to get bent.
Here's where I discovered that it's not just the individual machine that shuts down, though, it's the entire ATM-ing network across Japan. As I said, I had arrived at the station around 5:30. It was Saturday. If my bank's ATMs close at 5pm on Saturday, that means that no ATM in all of Japan can touch my money after 5pm on Saturday, no matter how late it stays open. Take some time to contemplate the inconvenience and utter flaming stupidity of this system before reading on.

So, back to the koban. This time the cop totally turns into a ninja. He gets on the phone, calls HQ, and basically does exhaustive research to find an ATM that will be willing to speak with my cash card. Five minutes later he's come up with a single 7-11 in the city that should work (I guess there are some ways to bypass most ATMs' convenience-proofing), but it's nowhere nearby. I've already explained my predicament, that all I need is a train ticket home and that acquiring cash isn't a necessity. Somewhere in all of this I communicate that I have a Visa card, and the relief on his face damn near lights up the room. I get the suspicion he may have been considering taking his own life were he to fail in his mission of getting me to Kosaka.
He leads me to a nearby ticket office inside the train station no more than 20 meters away (the previous one was outside, across the bus terminal) where he informs one clerk of my problem, tells her what we've tried so far, and in general is just an awesome guy. Once the clerk understands what bus I normally take and where I'm going, she is able to issue in short order a ticket that I can purchase with my Visa card. Less than a hour later I am homeward bound.

Stepping back from the details of this mess, the big picture looks something like this:

Morioka Station has a bus terminal. Right near the point where I board my bus home, there is an office selling tickets that only accepts cash. Less than a minute's walk away there is a well-lit indoor office that sells different (in appearance, anyway) tickets for the same bus, same schedule, etc. They have no problem with credit cards. Neither one advertises the existence of the other. This is mildly annoying but hardly the end of the world; I did, after all, get home.

I think I've already suitably expressed my rancor for the ATM situation, but the why of it totally eludes me. The usefulness of the ATM is severely diminished if one cannot actually use it much past normal bank hours. I can't imagine it's done to save power - like I said before, neither of the ATMs I visited were actually off, they just couldn't see my account because my bank had closed for the day. And really, if Japan wanted to save power then you wouldn't be able to find vending machines at absolutely any hour in the most isolated of locations, that serve not just cold but also hot beverages.

I may going out on a bit of a limb here, but this strikes me as representative of a larger issue in Japan, that of covering for big problems instead of fixing them at their root. Now, maybe there is a good reason why ATMs (and their respective networks) close at a given time, but even from asking Japanese coworkers I've not gotten any good answers. We even had a laugh over this recently, how the ubiquitous sells-anything vending machine drains a tremendous amount of power keeping some beverages hot and some cold, all within the same unit, but finding a working ATM in the evening, especially in rural areas, practically requires an act of God.
Anyway, it is far from the first time I've encountered a situation like this, where significant issues/inconveniences are covered up with little fixes here and there, but the source of the problem is never addressed. I'm not going to go into any more detail here, but I'm thinking of a post related to this that I hope to get around to in the next week or so.

I'll leave you with a quote I picked up not too long ago that hit this nail right on the head:

"Japan - the only country in the world where the ATMs get more time off than the salarymen."

My Japanese heat

2008-02-04T19:20:00.000-08:00

No, "Japanese heat" is not a euphemism for getting some hot Asian lovin' - I actually am talking about the process of warming enclosed domiciles to the point where one can exist in them comfortably. This process is largely a sacred mystery to the Japanese.
Japan is a nation that prides itself on the beauty of its four seasons. Aside from the southernmost parts, every prefecture in Japan experiences the four distinct seasons of spring, summer, autumn, and winter. Shockingly enough, winter is even colder than summer here, just like the rest of the world. Unlike the rest of the world, though, Japan has an odd approach to dealing with this phenomenon. Japan (or more specifically, Akita prefecture) may not be ass-freezing cold like Minnesota - the lowest temperature I've seen here is -12°C/10°F - but artificial heating is certainly still a necessity. Everything about this country, though, from architecture to everyday practices, seems to violently oppose the efficacy of this.
Take walls, for example. One would think that the people of any region that gets an actual winter with snow would build houses with thicker walls, insulation, etc. Not so much, here. The prevailing attitude here is that such insulation is a wasteful indulgence. I'm lucky in that my apartment is a stout concrete building that holds in heat reasonably well, but wooden houses 'round these parts can suck most heinously.
This leads into the issue of central heating - if you're going to heat an entire house for the winter, you need some sort of energy-efficient barrier to keep the heat in, right? The Japanese approach here is a complete lack of central heating. Houses are generally designed to be easily partitioned off, and space heaters are used to warm only the areas presently in use. This system...works, mostly. The big, obvious drawback is that when you enter a room not previously in use, it's effing cold.
As serene as a crisp winter morning can be in this region, there's still something about it...something just not quite right. A friend of mine put it best when he said, "Isn't it charming how we wake in the morning, crawl out from underneath the electric blanket, inhale that clean mountain air, and the first thing we see is...our breath?"
Oh but wait, it gets better! I'm one of the lucky ones who has an entirely electric heater in my apartment. So long as I keep the sliding doors to my bedroom shut, it keeps the main living area comfortable. Better still, my school even has a crude approximation of central heating! Of course, they turn it off in any room not presently in use, but it still kicks the shit out of the alternative...the kerosene space heater, which many of my fellow JETs deal within both the home and the workplace. There actually are good and evil kerosene heaters, but the evil vastly outnumber the good, just like in any decent epic fantasy.
Good: (more or less) Permanent, built in structures that you simply fill up and turn on, and they vent their waste products to the outside, through some sort of hose-vent technology I haven't bothered to explore further.
Evil: Mobile units that you fill up and plug in wherever you see fit, so that you may enjoy carbony gassy bi-products in any corner of your house. To avoid death, occasionally open a window and let in fresh air. Yes, in the dead of winter. I'm not even going to bother going into how counterproductive this seems.

My favorite Evil story came from another JET here, whose school office is heated by these monsters. They mentioned to fellow staff how there was a bit of a smell in the air and asked off-hand whether that was safe. The answer: "Well...maybe not totally safe...but definitely cheap!"
Hear that? That was the sound of my palm striking my forehead.

All is not unwell, though. The cold I'm totally accustomed to, but the cold + bucketloads of snow + actual mountains = opportunities I've never had before - particularly snowboarding. I was a little apprehensive
about getting into this, as the last time I tried (when I previously lived in Japan) I screwed my ankle so hard I couldn't walk correctly for two months. But what the hell, if everyone's doing it...
It actually went remarkably well. The place we went to was huge! The 10 or so minute gondola ride to the top began to put it in perspective, and...well, I'll let my pictures do the talking.

Mind you, these are only small portions of one of the courses, the longest of which was 5.5km. My, what precious memories I will have...

Engrish never ceases to make me giggle.

In other news, my students are still bastards, but they're cute bastards who make me laugh.

Student (to me, in English): What's up!
Me: 'Sup.
Other teacher (to student, in Japanese): What'd you say?
S: What's up!
OT: WTF does that mean?
S: You wouldn't get it, you're too old.
OT: *smacks kid on back of head*
Me: *laughing this whole time*

or

Student: What does the "up" in "what's up" mean?
Me: It means something that is currently happening, generally in the life of the person you are asking.
S: Really, 'cause I thought it meant to have an erection.
Me: ...

Mind you, I just taught my students "What's up?" no more than a few months ago. They mostly don't have a clue as to the etymology of this expression; they just know the pronunciation and the fact that it's a greeting used by English-speaking youth. I wash my hands of all blame; they took it to where it's gone entirely on their own.

Basashi: just say no

2008-01-21T23:00:00.001-08:00

Departing from daily life events and my semi-regular bitching about the Japanese education system, here's a post you've all been waiting for, something to churn your stomach, curl your toes, and set your teeth to grinding. See, when one goes to a foreign country, especially a super-freaking-weirder-than-the-far-side-of-Jupiter country like Japan, one always has to wonder - what mysterious new "delicacies" will I encounter, and will they cause me severe gag reflex/intestinal difficulty? This post is dedicated to all of the culinary treasures the Japanese consume that Americans (and in fact much of the Western world) refer to in the vernacular as fucked the fuck up.

Caveat: I know the Japanese eat raw fish, and I fully support this. With a few exceptions, I consider myself pretty tolerant of foreign culinary delights. I have my quirks, but I'm not a picky eater.

Natto

This one's kind of a no-brainer, but for those of you who haven't had the distinct...pleasure...of experiencing this dish, I'll explain. Natto is a gooey, chunky paste made from the fermentation (read: decay) of soybeans. It is often served with (over) rice, or rolled up in a sushi roll. Somehow it manages to not only smell like sewage, but to also have a stringy, slimy, and gritty texture, all at the same time. I read not too long ago that it's actually quite healthy. If by this they mean that your gag reflex will get a Herculean workout, they surely weren't kidding.

Kawa

Kawa means a shell or a skin, and when consuming most birds the Japanese tend to leave the skin on and eat it with the meat. This may not strike one as abnormal at first; most of us have had KFC or a rotisseried bird that was cooked with the skin on. The Japanese seem to leave the skin on everything, though, so it'll be maliciously clinging to perfectly innocent chucks of chicken found in one's soup, or - this particularly revolted me - to a breaded, fried piece of meat like a chicken nugget. Imagine the shock and horror at biting into one of these tasty little morsels only to discover a layer of soft, blubbery insulation in between your mouth and meaty victory. *shudder*

Yakiniku

On that topic, the Japanese have what most Westerners would call a very confused approach to beef. Meat rich in fat is treasured above all others, and is priced notably higher at the supermarket. Yakiniku is simply the term for strips of meat cooked over an open grill.
Now mind you, this isn't necessarily a bad thing, so long as you buy/choose your own meat. Beef with a nearly fillet mignon-esque crimson color to it is often half the price (or less) of a plate of slices veined through and through with nasty white stuff.

Chawan mushi

When I first encountered this dish several years ago, I honestly thought it was a joke - I thought my host father had designed this recipe simply to laugh at the sight of me recoiling in horror. See, I don't care for certain nuts, I don't like large quantities of egg, and I couldn't be paid to consume mushrooms. Guess what it contains.
Chawan mushi is an egg custard (stress on the 'egg' part; it's not even remotely sweet) in which bits of mushroom and various nuts are suspended. I know my host family at the time was aware of the three foods I dislike, so we still laugh over it today when we talk - such was the coincidence that a dish containing all three of them existed.

Tentacles

These really don't disgust me so much as they make me laugh, but they do send some people running for the hills. If it belongs to the class of mollusca cephalopoda, the Japanese have probably tried to eat it. Every time I go to the supermarket, I can't hang around the seafood section for long without suppressing a giggle - it's a big freaking tentacle on a plate!
These also lurk in the most unsuspecting of places (such as spaghetti), bringing one to wonder exactly where the next of these Cthulhian beasts will spring from, eager to extract your soul through your nose...

Horumon

While not quite the most obscene culinary masterpiece I have encountered yet, horumon certainly ranks up there. It's pretty popular around this area of Akita, so I was inevitably offered some on one of a number of outings with the locals. I had never encountered it before and lacked a dictionary to reference the term, so one of the gents who had joined me for this meal tried to describe it to me, simply at first... He said it was pig meat, and it looked innocent enough. I bit into it, though, and my teeth sprung away from it's rubbery this-is-not-meat-as-we-know-it texture in a futile attempt at warning me what a foolish mistake I was making. No, I pressed on, determined to force down at least a single piece before inquiring for further details. Chewing it to the point where it was actually broken into swallowable bits was impossible, but I washed it down with a mighty swig of beer, and gave my dining companion a quizzical look. "What part of a pig is this, exactly?" I asked.
Y'all can probably see this coming, considering how much I've talked it up at this point...this answer, of course, was large intestine. Mind you, I have no problem with eating tongue, liver, etc...but somehow consuming the last thing pig poo sees before it greets the world again struck me as very, very wrong.

Basashi

And finally we reach the title piece, the resplendent crown of this post. The word basashi is composed of two characters, 馬 and 刺. The first one means horse, and the world would truly be a better place if it simply ended there. Alas, the gods are cruel, capricious beings who delight in the wanton suffering of mankind, and they chose for that second character to add the meaning of uncooked. Yes, they not only consume the flesh of horses here, but they eat it raw. I've only had one opportunity to try to explain to a Japanese person why this is not OK, but it just didn't strike them as such.
To add a cherry to the top of this already blasphemous sundae, they even have basashi-flavored ice cream. I shit you not.

My kids are hardcore?

2008-01-17T20:54:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was the final day of the All-Akita Junior High Ski Meet, the penultimate competition for students at that level. I had planned to drive out to Hanawa where it was being held (maybe 20 minutes from Kosaka) and catch what events I could, but when I got there the schedule indicated that my school wasn't participating in the day's events. Dammit, dammit, dammit! But then, I ran into one of my coworkers from the School in the Sky who informed me that yes, Kosaka and SitS would surely be entering contestants into the competition. Whatever the issue with the schedule was, I apparently had about an hour to kill before the boys' 5km cross-country ski relay would begin. Fortunately I had brought my computer, so wasting time wasn't hard.

Hanging around the start/finish lines of the course, I found a few of my students who had raced in the previous day's events and came to cheer on their classmates today. I learned from them that we had a team of four guys who would each complete 1 lap of the 5km course. It went up and down, over the river and through the woods, and all over the place, but there were a number of "stations" one could run between to see the skiers as they passed. As the race lasted over half an hour, this was one hell of a workout...good fun, though. Coming into the final lap my students were excited enough to pop - our team had a commanding lead on the rest. We did indeed finish first, after which it was back to the tent to huddle around the space heater and dig into a big kettle of soup someone's mom had had the brilliant forethought to provide.

I wasted time with my students and a few other teachers, got some lunch, and putzed about more until the time came for the awards ceremony. Here was the part that bowled me over...the events of the ski competition weren't limited to cross-country, but this is the area Kosaka excels in. We didn't just claim first prize for the relay, no. In the guys' division we walked out with all of the first place trophies for cross-country events! Ladies and gentlemen, here are your champions.

Ahh...those poor, broken kids

2008-01-14T17:42:00.000-08:00

Today marks the beginning of the 3rd trimester at KJH. As is typical for all such things Japanese, there was an opening ceremony to kick off the occasion. Ok, so it wasn't particularly ceremonial; it really just involved gathering in the freezing cold gym to listen to some speeches from Elvis and Dracula, and then from the class president of each grade. Dracula rambled on for a while and I may have dozed off a bit, but I'm willing to attribute it to the subarctic temperature of the gymnasium. I think I could actually feel my nervous system going into hibernation, one part at a time.

Legs: Sorry, we're out. Frozen veins means no blood flow means screw you guys, we're going home.
Fingers: Stop rubbing us together! We're trying to nap, dammit!
Heart: Duuuuuuh...hm? Was I supposed to be doing something?

Anyway, I stayed entirely conscious for my kids' speeches, but a bit of me wishes I hadn't. They generally talked about what they did over the winter break, which initially doesn't sound so bad, right? Sadly, though, they all more or less followed the pattern set by the first one:

"Well, my 2nd trimester tests scores could have been better, so I spend time every day studying Science and Social Studies. My final English test score also had fallen (compared to 1st trimester), so I studied English for at least an hour a day. I hope to improve and do my best this semester! I might have gone skiing once or twice, too, but I didn't let it get in the way of my studies."

WTF? Last time I checked, weren't you people in your early teenage years? Don't you do stuff like play video games and screw around with your friends (not in the literal sense, we're hoping)? Ok, I'm sure they have their lazy time, as well (you might remember My quasi-day off?), but the fact that this is the sort of attitude that Japanese society still demands from students is more than a touch depressing. These poor kids are waiting until college to start living their lives, all so they can pass an entrance exam or two that'll really have no connection to what they actually do later in life.
We (foreign) English teachers sometimes take note of how our kids seem to have no real world sense, no street smarts at all. I guess it's not too shocking, though, when you consider how infrequently most of them see an actual street.

It's kind of ironic that in recent Japanese pop culture the word 'KY' (used as an adjective, to refer to a person) has come into frequent use. It is an abbreviation for 'Kuuki ga Yomenai,' an expression that literally means 'cannot read the air' - a person who is ignorant of everyday life taking place around them, who cannot feel the pulse of the crowd and get a general understanding of the way things are.

But of course the idea of change in this society still brings about nervous twitching, fearful glances, high-level Cabinet resignations, and the occasional axe murder. Will the day ever come that they don't violently resist what they so desperately need?

I knew I was forgetting something...

2008-01-12T07:07:00.000-08:00

This week at "work" has been quite a joke. Students don't come back from winter vacation until the 15th, but teachers who don't use PTO are still expected to show up and appear as though we are doing something productive. I...uh...well, I made a display of question words for the English classroom, and...yeah, that was my only work-related accomplishment for the week.
The rest of the time I studied, read, chatted with other teachers, and generally just screwed around. Oh, I did practice swordplay with Elvis, too. Turns out he actually has a 2nd degree black belt in iaido, so we trained in the gym for a while on Monday and Thursday. On that note, holy shit Ms. Giggles wants to be a samurai! She's the girliest, bubbliest, most effervescent teacher there, and she suddenly has developed a serious interest in learning how to use a Japanese sword. I'm still stuck somewhere between happy, perplexed, and a little afraid.

Getting to the topic of this post, though, I have been meaning since I got back to put up pics of my trip to Tokyo/Yokohama/Toyohashi, and I am just now remembering to do so.

Ok, before that, this is a few from our ALT Christmas party before I left, just for gits and shiggles.

Blogger is retarded. I used to be able to rotate my images just fine, but now apparently not. Oh well, just turn your head sideways and it will mostly look how it should. This is the world's skinniest mosque, found while Mike and I were wandering around looking for a public bathhouse.

Part of Kourakuen in Tokyo. It's basically an amusement park right in the middle of the city. Yes that really is a giant roller coaster and ferris wheel.

This picture of a public trash can is amazing simply because, as any of my fellow English teachers can attest, it's impossible to find the godddamn things in Japan! It's a sacred mystery to all of us how the citizens of this country manage to keep it so clean.

I had to laugh here once I figured out what this large and confusing structure in downtown Yokohama was. It's a public toilet.

Local Yokohaman wildlife.

Included simply because I'm immature and stuff like this still makes me laugh.

The best Ma-and-Pa noodle shop in the known universe.

More cabs in front of one train station here than in all of Northern Akita, I think.

This picture is probably insignificant to most of my foreign readers, but it makes some of us English teachers here laugh (even though we shouldn't). The unlit NOVA sign is of a former company, now bankrupt, that used to run English conversation classes in large cities. They were known for overworking their employees and paying utterly deplorable wages. Considering the options out there, I'm shocked that anyone ever came to Japan on a NOVA contract; the company was basically thought of as the red-headed stepchild of the business. When they went under they pretty well screwed all of their employees; many were left with bills to pay and suddenly no monthly income. So I guess the reality is that we all feel quite sorry for NOVA's former teachers, but the company itself deserved to die.

These four pictures show kind of a neat (did I say 'neat?' dear god...) view of Yokohama, as they were all taken from the exact same spot, looking north, south, east, and west.

Random shot of Tokyo, which is probably only special to me because I don't get to see populated city streets anymore :)

Yokohama has the biggest Chinatown in all of Japan. Here are shots of one of the main attractions, and then a view from a back alley. Yes, I know it's clean. As my my friend Andrew put it, it's Chinatown, not China. I've never been to China myself, but he says Shanghai is filthy...

And then New Year's Eve. Noriko and I went drinking at this bar a friend of hers owns, and it was a pretty sweet place. 'Course, it helped that we drank for half price, courtesy of the owner. He introduced himself to me in broken Eng(r/l)ish like this: "Hi Noriko American boyfriend! This my bar! I master, master-bator!" He even completed it with the classic fist-shaking gesture of pleasuring one's self, at which point I nearly fell out of my chair laughing.
So, I taught them some American cocktails, and then we later stopped by a shrine. That fire, on the shrine grounds, is not built of wood but actually gigantic, thick ropes that had been hanging over the main gate. Every New Year's, they burn the old ropes and put up new ones, continuing the circle (of life! and it moves us all...)

I also spent a day with one of my other former host families in Toyohashi. We got lunch at this awesome Italian restaurant, where I met my former host brother, Ken, again. He was 16 back when I first lived here, so I remembered him as a high school age video game junkie. Now he's in grad school studying to be a composer, and he looks like a hippie. He was always pretty chill, but when I met him at the restaurant he seemed just a bit too...out of it. I asked him if he was feeling ok, and he turned to me ever so slooooooowly and blinked before saying, "I have a bitch of a hangover."
Priceless, I tell you, absolutely priceless.

And here's a beach in Hamamatsu, where I went with that host family after we had lunch. Too cold for swimming, but still just lovely.

And finally the inevitable return to the frozen wastes. That'd be my car, which I was in the process of exhuming then.

My boss's boss's boss's boss is awesome

2008-01-09T15:29:00.000-08:00

I had been talking with the superintendent of the Kosaka Board of Education recently, and he was appalled to learn that I only knew of a couple hot springs around this immediate area, so he insisted that we go to check out his favorite one sometime soon. He's in charge of all of the public schools around this area (at least 5) so he's pretty far up the food chain, but we're good buddies.
When I first started working here, before classes had begun, I was reporting to the BoE everyday, where his office is. There is of course no school lunch there; most people bring their own or order from a nearby shop. Big boss guy introduced me to a handy service done by God knows who where they deliver a sort of boxed lunch to the office everyday for you, and you just settle your bill with them once a week. They're affordable, and apparently healthy enough to keep me slim and trim for years, he said, patting his round belly for emphasis. We had a good laugh over that, but in fact they really are quite nummy, and...I don't know...that had that certain feel of being good for you that I just can't describe. I miss my boxed lunches...

Anywho, we met up after work and he started driving toward Odate, where this place supposedly was. He asked along the way if I had eaten yet. I of course had not, having come directly from work, and he of course had a remedy for that problem. We went to this terrific noodle shop on the other side of Odate, which was really unlike any other I had been to. First off, the place looked like an old samurai house: built all of unfinished logs and with low tables on tatami mats. The feature that really set this place apart, though, was the fact that you cook your own food here, sort of. Yes, you read that correctly. It's a restaurant, but you cook your own food. WTF, right? Well, actually not; it works really well. The tables all have small gas stoves on them, and the...chefs? well, proprietors, anyway...prepare all of the ingredients and bring them out to you. They spark up the stove and add the broth to a large iron cook pot on it; you throw in the ingredients as you like and eat at your leisure. Superintendent guy knew the place (and the owners, I think) so he ordered for us - some sort of shellfish udon with a couple of big-ass scallops as the centerpiece. If you're not familiar with scallops in their natural form, they look like a big, heavy clam larger than the average human hand.
...Ack! Just as I was trying to write this, my breakfast attacked me. I tried to open a container of yogurt, but it was somehow pressurized, I think...it just spat all over my desk and face. Anyway, now that I'm all cleaned up...
The scallops needed to cook for a while, but the vegis, little clams, and noodles (a wide, flat udon-esque type I had never tried before) were ready after a few minutes so we dished up bowls and dug in. The restaurant-person stopped by with tools he used to crack open the scallops so the meaty inside could properly stew. If ever you have the chance to try one in this fashion, don't be put off by a scallop's appearance. Fresh out of the shell they look absolutely revolting, but they are freaking delicious.

So anyway, we chatted about this and that for a while and then got back in the car to head in the direction of Kosaka again. On the way out he told me that this place was his secret weapon to impress women when he was younger, because it has a classy, traditional air to it but is surprisingly affordable. So noted, sir, so noted...
I discovered that there's a hot spring right on the edge of Odate going toward Kosaka that I had been passing by several times a week and never noticed. It's a natural hot spring so the water is hot as hell, but soaking in those waters for a while was pretty much enough to make me forget everything that had annoyed me for the last month or so. Turns out the place isn't just that, though, but also a ryokan - a traditional style Japanese inn. It looked like a fine establishment so out of curiosity I inquired as to the price per night. Final answer? Surprisingly cheap, and dinner+breakfast are included. w00t. Plans for the future, methinks.
On the way back to Kosaka we talked for a while about religion in Japan and how the majority of families identify with a particular sect of Buddhism but individually it isn't a matter most people put a lot of thought into. He asked me if a similar concept of "membership without belief/action" seemed to exist in America, and I had to suppress a chuckle. Why yes, sir, perhaps you've heard of our president...

At one point I tried to contribute to the tab for the evening; somehow I had forgotten that I was dealing with an older Japanese male and that this would be pointless. He picked up the bill for everything, not giving me a chance to so much as gesture in the general direction of my wallet after that. He even gave me some free admission coupons he had for the hot spring we went to. Based on the number of colleagues he seemed to run into that evening, I'd guess he's a regular at both places.
All in all, I give the evening a ★★★★ stamp of approval.

To wrap this up, I have another nickname for everyone's amusement. While I had mentioned KJH's vice principal before, the principal had never really come into the picture. I don't have much interaction with him, as he seems to be more in charge of matters external to the students (some sort of administration, I imagine), so I just don't know him too well. We talked recently, though, and holy shit does that man have enormous canines. I could see them gleaming in the light, their fine points nearly a centimeter below the rest of his teeth. And then he smiled...sir, what is that dark reddish stain on your lower lip?
He shall henceforth be known as Dracula.

The Christmas Cage

2007-12-26T00:52:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-13T01:06:00.001-08:00

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

2007-12-03T03:59:00.000-08:00

...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.

Wrapping up the naming game

2007-11-25T02:01:00.000-08:00

I’ve so far only named two of my coworkers, Ms. Giggles and Mrs. Freckles, and also hinted at the existence of one other (my lead JTE), but I actually have quite a plethora of talented people I teach with or just interact with on a regular basis. Time to get down to the task of finishing my naming project, so I can properly refer to them in all future writings here.

Saint
…is of course my lead JTE in Kosaka. When I first began work here, I had the impression that this man would be a real pain in the ass to work with. He struck me as being unnecessarily by-the-book and unwilling to adapt to the individual needs/desires of our students. How wrong I was. You might remember the entry where I mentioned him coming to the rescue when I had a conflict with one of my other JTEs. Aside from that experience, he has by his actions shown me on many occasions that he really cares about what he is doing here and is concerned for the future of our students. He’s always in the office until late in the evening, studying new teaching methods and preparing all manner of class activities and games to further the younguns’ learning. Anytime an awkward moment or difficult explanation comes up in class, he has a solution that quickly smooths the situation over. In general, he is the epitome of what just about any person would call a good man.

Closet Naughty
…is the elementary teacher who sits right next to me at School in the Sky. She’s super cute, but alas, she’s got a boyfriend. In any case, I have a policy against dating coworkers. She’s one of the few coworkers I have who is in my age range (actually, we’re exactly the same age), though, so we have some common interests to talk about whenever I’m there. The name, though…this comes from one time when I visited her elementary class here. There are six girls ranging from 3rd to 6th grade (I think) that she teaches, and I dropped in to help out with a basic English class – they’re mostly just learning the alphabet and some simple expressions right now. C.N. doesn’t actually speak much English, but she knows enough to teach the little squirts (I’m sure she teaches them other subjects, as well). We were doing self-introductions, which of course includes hobbies/interests.
Take a moment to form in your head the image of a slim, cute Japanese woman, mid-twenties, just shorter than shoulder length black hair. Picture her teaching a giggly little group of eight- to eleven-year olds with hair braided in pigtails, all wearing pastel-colored jumpers. Got it? It’s a pretty innocent image, complete with flowers and bunny rabbits, wouldn’t you say? Now picture the teacher saying in front of the students, in somewhat broken English, “My interests are hot boys and drinking saké.”
…Homey say what?! I pride myself on my composure, simply because I didn’t quite fall over laughing and gasping for air then. So, yeah. Closeted in virtue and bubbly cuteness, but really a man-izing (is this a word?) lush at heart. Warms the soul, doesn’t it?

Ninja T
…teaches social studies and swings a fucking fierce game of table tennis. I’ve been stopping by the table tennis club after school recently, and I have discovered how bad at this game I really am. The only weapon I have is that my serve is somewhat unconventional, so my students haven’t figured out a reliable way to defeat it. Yet. These kids are the type who are usually playing about a meter or two back from the table, whaling the shit out the ball every time it hits their side and still somehow placing it in bounds when they return it to their opponent. And they’re mostly about 14 years old. Ninja T is the late-twenties full grown adult who teaches them these acrobatics.
…And to think that I used to consider myself good at this game. *sigh*

Green Blink 41
…or just Po-punk for short. She teaches at School in the Sky, and loves every band in the pop/punk genre that I have heard of, plus a few old-school items like Sex Pistols and Dead Kennedys. Somehow Green Day or Sum 41 or whatever came up in a conversation once (she's about my age so we chat a fair bit), and then the next time I was at SitS she gave me a burned CD of a similar Japanese band called ELLEGARDEN (usually displayed in caps). They’re actually pretty damn good, at least worth a download in my opinion. Nowadays I trade music with her pretty regularly, and we’ve promised each other we’ll be at the first good concert that comes anywhere near this area. Psssh, if that ever happens.

Tea Lady
…I wish I had a better name for her, but this is the first thought that comes to my mind every time I see her. Tea Lady isn’t exactly a teacher; she fulfills all of the random mandatory duties that come up at school, including bringing morning tea to all of the teachers, making copies, fixing stuff, janitorial jobs, and probably a million other things I’m not aware of. But the first time I see her every morning, she’s bringing me a cup of tea. She’s really cool, in a no-nonsense sort of way. Unlike the teachers and students, she has no need or desire to learn English, so she talks to me in Japanese about whatever interesting news/gossip is floating about. She’s a very motherly sort of kind, but she also has the weight of many years of experience behind her, so when she speaks, you listen. And she brings me candy sometimes.

Elvis
…is the vice-principal at KJH. He often practices his English on me in somewhat random, heavily accented statements that I find strangely endearing. And his hair makes him a dead ringer for Elvis Presley! …well, if Elvis was Asian, slim, and alive, anyway. He also is into iaido, so he gets bonus points there. He actually has a 2nd degree black belt, if I recall correctly.

Sugar
…is my JTE at School in the Sky. The name comes from the fact that his real name is homonymic with the Japanese word for sugar, and that he’s really a well-natured, easygoing guy to work with. He can be a bit too accommodating at times, but it’s not a bad thing. He practices his English with me more than any of my other JTEs, and is often researching any manner of random vocabulary (usually pretty detailed or high-level stuff) between classes. He always tells me he’ll email me the lesson plans for my classes there (I’m only at School in the Sky at most once a week), always forgets, and always apologizes profusely when I arrive in the morning. It’s become something of a running joke, I think. I’m not worried about it because he’s more open to my input in class than my other JTEs, so I don’t need to know perfectly what he has in mind beforehand in order to feel useful.

Valley Girl
…is a student and not a coworker of mine, but she gets a shout-out here just for being funny and weird. She’s one of my more outspoken sannenseis, so I usually like classes she’s in. She’s kind of one of the popular kids, and she can be a pain in the ass about it sometimes, getting pouty and sulky when stuff doesn’t go her way. But she cheers when she does well in class and raises her hand to guess even when she doesn’t know the lesson well (understand that this is super rare – Japanese kids have a tremendous issue with sticking out and potentially being wrong, even if I encourage them to try).
I had one…I don’t know, humorous maybe?...incident with her recently that I’m still not entirely sure what to make of. She was basically being bitchy in class one day, so I asked Saint (JTEs, not us foreigners, are officially responsible for discipline in class) about it afterwards. He tried to explain it to me, but he couldn’t think of the English word to describe something that he said was wrong with her. I partially understood the Japanese word he used; I thought it was some kind of mental disorder he was talking about, like maybe ADHD or something. I got him to repeat the word and went back to the teachers’ office to look it up in my handy-dandy electronic dictionary, expecting to find out that this poor girl couldn’t control her obnoxious behavior today. Turns out that she’s…a narcissist. Yup, that’s the word he used. She’s hard to deal with sometimes because she has an over-inflated opinion of herself. Wow.

I may be missing a few people, but that’s all I gots for now. If anyone else distinguishes themselves enough to earn a new name, I’ll be sure to keep you updated.

This isn’t worth an entire blog entry on its own, but it’s still too funny not to write about. I was recently picking up a few items at Kosaka’s dedicated liquor store for upcoming social events. I say “dedicated” because that’s all they sell; one can buy hard liquor at gas stations and grocery stores here, as well. As I’m one of two foreigners (that I’m aware of) living in Kosaka, I get chatted up by the locals pretty regularly. I was checking out when the clerk (well, actually the owner of the store) asked me if I was teaching at the junior high school. I said that I am, and she promptly thanked me for putting up with her daughter. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Oh, your daughter is in junior high? What grade/class is she in?
Her: 3rd grade, class number 2. I’m sorry, she is very stupid.
Me: What?! No, no, 3-2 is a good group.
Her: Her name’s [Valley Girl]. (see above)
Me: …Oh.
Her: See? Dumb girl.
Me: No! She’s…great. She really participates a lot.
Her: She just wants attention. I’m very sorry; I will try harder in raising her at home.
Me: How can I escape this awkward conversation with my dignity intact? Oh, don’t worry about her. She loves speaking English.
Her: She does like the sound of her own voice, yes.
Me: She’s coming along fine. I’m sure she’ll get into a good high school in Odate.
Her: Heh-heh. That makes one of us.

Odate is the neighboring city that actually has a population (about 80,000) and shows up on maps. All of the good high schools in north Akita, I’m told, are located there.

And for today’s brief WTF report, I would like now to focus your attention on the School in the Sky, where I spent last Thursday teaching. This visit was no less awesome than every day here (really, the kind of job that makes you think, they’re paying me for this?!), but to stir things up a bit, one of my two ichinensei students decided to get a little creative with his lunch. It’s worth mentioning that the lunch lady who prepares everything here is also quite a talent, and I have yet to have an unpleasant dining experience…yet somehow, it just wasn’t interesting enough for this troubled child. So, he took the little butter packet that was intended for our baked sweet potatoes, peeled his mandarin orange, and slathered each individual section of it in pure, unadulterated, churned dairy before chowing down. And by his face, I’m honestly convinced that he enjoyed it. WTF, indeed.

smack!

2007-11-05T20:24:00.001-08:00

That was the sound of my hand striking my forehead. I just got back from Aeon, the local Wal-Mart clone in Odate, and they were playing...Christmas music! And they have a big freaking decorated 5 meter tall Christmas tree right in the front entrance! And the damn thing's been there since before Halloween! I'm living in a country in which less than 1% of the population celebrate Christmas for religious reasons, so I'm not sure if I find this to be nauseating commercialization or brilliant marketing. Or just funny, perhaps. In any case, Japanese businesses have successfully assimilated a foreign holiday to send revenue through the ceiling around this time of the year. I applaud their ambition, at least...what are the chances of something like Day of Respect for the Elderly or The Emperor's Birthday catching on in America? I eagerly await "Kurisumasu Engrish," and will be sure to post it here when I find a suitable sample.

...I feel like there's something profound I was going to add to this, but I was sick recently and that has no doubt robbed my brain of whatever genius prose I had intended...

So, you get more nicknames.

Mix
Mix is the ringleader of ninensei class 2's Tensai Row. She's a regular participant in Kosaka International Society's (KIS; not the best acronym, I know) town events, and actually speaks pretty decent English (despite her claims to the contrary), so she wins the culture "mix" award here at KJH. And her name sounds an awful lot like the word "mix," so it's only appropriate.

Barnacle
Barnacle is an ichinensei boy who...could perhaps use a little counseling in social etiquette. He's always happy to join English class even though he doesn't say much then, but any time he talks to us teachers afterward he tries to cling to us, just like his namesake would to a poor, unsuspecting boat. I don't think he's deliberately being obnoxious, but he's still met with a margin of success so far.

Yokozuna
No, I didn't create this nickname just to be mean to the fat kid. Yokozuna is a sannensei who actually is training to be a sumo wrestler. Yes, this means he's big (I'd guess he has at least 20kg on me, and he's 15!), but it also means he's ridiculously strong. I've seen him carry two of his classmates at once on several occasions. He's nearly as tall as me, too, which means that as the Japanese define it, he's fast approaching Godzilla-status.

And to wrap this up, a little random silliness. Mrs. Freckles, my coworker who studied abroad and actually understands English nuances and such, was teaching a ninensei class with me one day. It's been my mission to teach a few American colloquialisms to this and any other class that expresses interest, and they've pretty well mastered, "What's up?" So, a few of them try it out on Mrs. Freckles at the beginning of class one day, and she responds with a Scary Movie-esque "Whazuuuuuuuuup!" and flashes something that could have been a gang symbol at them.
...Yet another one of those moments when I just wasn't sure whether I wanted to burst out laughing or weep bitterly.

Hukt on Foniks...

2007-11-01T21:24:00.000-07:00

...actually worked pretty damn well for me. I recently finished my second visit to one of my elementary schools (I've only been to the other one once so far, so this isn't a common activity), where I tried out a simple phonics activity for the 5th and 6th graders. It pretty well kicked ass, once I got the kinks straightened out. A few weekends ago I attended the JET mid-year conference in Akita City, where one of the presentations was an approach to phonics in the classroom. For those of you who have never had a reason to care...

phon·ics [fon-iks] IPA Pronunciation: [ˈfɒnɪks]
– noun

1.	a method of teaching reading and spelling based upon the phonetic interpretation of ordinary spelling

2. the science of sound, or of spoken sounds

See, the Japanese language sort of has an alphabet like ours (well, it has 2 that resemble ours), but one big difference is that in Japanese each "letter" makes only one sound, and is also called by that sound. The concept of one letter having different sounds (i.e. 'a' as in apple, 'a' as in all, and 'a' as in aim) is completely foreign to the Japanese, so wrapping their minds around this idea is one of the first tasks to tackle in learning English. To further complicate the issue, most Japanese "letters" consist of a consonant and a vowel sound, and the Japanese have difficulty perceiving these two as separable. Thus, while the Japanese may see some connection between は (ha) and が (ga), they don't necessarily see the same connection that a native English speaker might.
So, my goal here was to introduce the idea that letters make sounds other than the name we call them by. When we see the letter A alone, we refer to it as 'a' as in aim. We acknowledge, though, that it can make other sounds, depending on the situation. The activity I used had me preparing a large number of note cards before the class, enough that each student could receive four cards (ideally with some to spare). Each card has a letter of the English alphabet on one side, and an example of each sound the letter makes on the opposite side. For examples, I use simple, tangible, photographable nouns. This way, I can show a picture in case the student is not familiar with the example word used. I do this because ideally in language classroom instruction, I believe teachers should use as little as possible of the students' native language. My goal is for students to become used to the idea of using the target language as much as possible in the classroom, so they think of it as a method of communication and not just a secret code to crack.

To begin, each student gets four cards. They all stand up and intermingle, approaching other students as they choose. They play rock-paper-scissors (jan-ken-pon in Japanese) and the loser displays the letter side of one of their cards to the winner. The winner must then correctly say the word or words written on the back of the card (another word that uses the same sound is also OK). Success means the winner gets to keep the card. Failure means that they surrender a card of their choice to their opponent. Both students then proceed on to another person and repeat. The obvious goal for the students is to collect as many cards as possible. In my experience so far, Japanese kids have a viciously competitive streak that fuels games like this very well. Students who run out of cards may come to a teacher to receive one more card (hence the spares).
Once my students have tackled the 26 letters of the alphabet, I'll add in more complicated sounds, such as 'th', 'sh', 'ight', etc.

So, all of that is a brief overview of a classroom activity here, and the thoughts/goals behind it. I unfortunately don't get to plan every activity my classes do in this same fashion, but I also have to admit that it's nice to have a textbook to fall back to on days when my brain is on autopilot. Yes, even if the textbook blows.

I truly am a simple creature

2007-10-26T00:54:00.000-07:00

The pictures below speak for themselves (but I've captioned them, for added fun).

Is your woody natural? I know mine is!

This man is such a ninja-fast cook that his actions can't even be captured on standard digital media.

This really, seriously is a shirt I found at the local superstore Walmart-clone here. The English language doesn't have words to express the combination of mirth, confusion, and horror I felt upon viewing this. I might as well add that the shirt even came with its own bling (two gaudy fake-silver crosses on a chain thick enough to haul logs with). I weep for the future of this country.

Not only will we bring sexy back, we will show you exactly what to do with it.

Retarded teachers, and other tomfoolery

2007-10-24T19:09:00.000-07:00

I am not a happy Brett. I just got back from a class that started off well, if rather difficultly – the sannensei are learning the relative pronoun right now, a phenomenon that still remains a sacred mystery to many native English speakers – but went swiftly downhill toward the end. The class was doing a translation worksheet, and I was checking their progress and lending aid where I could.

Class structure is team teaching, so I always work with at least one native speaker of Japanese. Today’s JTE (Japanese Teacher of English) was also checking answers, and proceeded to explain the grammar in question to the class after we were done letting them give it a go on their own. We went over the answers together, until we came to one sentence where she made a mistake: ‘This is Louis Braille, the man who invented the Braille.’ One of our students first spoke up, expressing her confusion (the student had written the sentence correctly, without the). I was in the process of saying something, but my JTE cut me off and tried to move on, saying that the point in question wasn’t related to relative pronouns so we shouldn’t dwell on it. Sigh. Ok, fine…but then our student dropped her pencil and muttered, “Why is this so difficult? I thought I was correct…” right before she started crying. I wanted to fucking slap my JTE.

Fortunately the Japanese have remarkable skill in ignoring/working through distractions; the rest of the students were kind enough to focus on their…well, navel-gazing, perhaps…and not make an issue out of it. My JTE tried to comfort the poor girl, but was met with little success. Fortunately the class ended then; soon afterward I saw my student crying on a friend’s shoulder. All this stupidity simply because my JTE was too rushed or too proud to admit a mistake. Or hell, who knows…maybe my JTE had actually encountered some text that had such mistaken English in it. She (and in a broader sense, many Japanese teachers of English) seem to cling almost rabidly to their published texts, even when working with a native speaker of English who says, “No, that isn’t correct.” I wish she would just show a little trust – we JETs are all college-educated adults who have spent quite a bit more time using English than most Japanese people currently alive.

Update: Brett is no longer pissed. During a short assembly at the end of the school day, I had a talk with the head English teacher here at KJH. He actually brought up the issue, saying that he had heard there was some small problem in one of the English classes. Glossing over the details of our chat, I will say only that that man is a saint. He showed remarkable empathy and quickly came up with a solution that I’m sure will be amicable to all parties involved. Kudos, hats off, and all other such gestures to him, for he is truly a professional, caring, good teacher.

In Other News of the Realm…

Today was a reminder that I’m still not used to living up in the mountains. I opened the front door of my apartment to leave for school this morning and was greeted by a wall of fog thick enough to stop a Mack truck. It had evaporated by 10am, but it was still quite a sight until then. Now all Kosaka needs is a nearby lake and a serial killer with a hockey mask…

I try not to focus on English mistakes my students make; it is their second language and most of them are pretty new to it. Some of them are just too funny to pass up, though. The ichinensei were working on is/are, and I asked them if there was anything wrong with a sentence one student had previously written on the chalkboard: “Kumi’s father are very tall.” One student corrected it to say: “Kumi’s fathers are very tall.” Well, technically correct English, but…

I explained in Japanese what was going on here.

Brett: So, this means that Kumi has two fathers.
Student 1: Ah. Well…
Student 2: It’s possible.
Brett: Uh-huh. How do you figure?
Student 2: Well, we live in a modern world…
Brett: But we are studying is and are.
Student 1: I will fix it. (gets up to go to chalkboard)
Student 2: No, it’s ok. Gay things are ok. Maybe the textbook’s author is gay.
Brett: From the mouths of babes…well, the liberal attitude is good, at least.

I have about 170 students I see regularly, so remembering their Japanese names is a bit of a chore. They wear nametags, but reading them is not always as easy as it sounds. Japanese last names aren’t too bad; most are related to nature and are pronounced with the natural Japanese (訓読み, kunyomi) pronunciation for the characters used. Teachers typically call their students by their first names, though, as it implies more of a teacher/student relationship than one between colleagues. Also, last names see a lot of repetition in Japanese. At KJH there are 5 Anbos, 5 Takahashis, 5 Wadas, 6 Kudos, 11 Naritas, and a whopping 15 Kimuras...so first names become a necessity. Unfortunately, though, the pronunciation of first name characters is a bit more ambiguous. There are some standard ones used, but there is also a list of alternate pronunciations for each first name character…and sometimes people just make up something entirely new. It leaves me in a situation like this:

Brett: So, how do you say your name?
$µ※☹: Oh, it’s Akira.
¥㎐➹➌✸: Really? Me, too!
Brett: Oh, God…
$µ※☹: I’ve always preferred the nasalized ‘k’ sound from the 11^th dynasty, though…
Brett: Head…hurt…
+(æΣєӨ: Hey, I thought that came from the reign of Emperor Kamenoyounikakureru.
Brett: Wait, who are you?
+(æΣєӨ: Akira, but with a long ‘i’.
Brett: Son of a…
¥㎐➹➌✸: I’m glad we use the simplified characters for our names, else it might be kind of hard to remember!
Brett: *head explodes*

Like many JETs, I resort to nicknaming, just to keep them straight in my head. I swear I’m not an asshole; these are the only tools I have to keep everyone straight! ‘Sides, it’s not like I actually share these names with my students…

Slobber
This kid salivates excessively when he’s excited or nervous, which is pretty much any time I ask for his participation in class. I seriously want to get him a drool cup for Christmas, just so he can speak with some modicum of clarity. Swallow, buddy, it won’t kill you…

Tensai Row
Tensai is Japanese for genius, and this name actually refers to one row of three girls who always know all of the answers for textbook questions, as if they just downloaded the whole thing to their brains. Whoa…I know kung fu! I actually love their class, because I’ll always have at least three volunteers for the standard material we go over. I just hope the other kids don’t feel overshadowed; I try to avoid calling on Tensai Row too much so as to encourage everyone else’s participation. *shakes fist at sky* Damn my school for not having an English club!

I have more of these, but they can wait for another time...my brain is coasting on fumes. I just found out that tomorrow is going to be a long, boring day. Normally I only teach two classes on Friday, and tomorrow both of those classes have the lesson test for chapter 6. I don't need to be present for classes that consist only of a test, so I have absolutely nothing but prep and internet time-wasting on the docket for tomorrow. Not an exciting prospect ☹

School Fest

2007-10-17T22:24:00.000-07:00

I had a sad realization this morning that actually has nothing to do with this topic. I’m not sure exactly how cold it’s getting at night these days, but it ain’t warm and I left my plant outside last night. I haven’t been doing too well with that guy as of recent, so I really hope I didn’t kill him. Yes, it’s a ‘he.’ Don’t ask me how I know this.

Anyway, this past weekend was KJH’s yearly school festival. It (and all such Japanese school fests, as far as I am aware) is not centered around any sort of sports event, like the U.S.’s homecoming, but is its own event in and of itself. …Was that redundant? I don’t have a clue; my English is in the shitter right now.

Like all such events that involve a public display of crafts, performances, or whatever, the Japanese take this very seriously. After-school clubs have been canceled for the last 3 weeks, and everyone (teachers and students) has been staying after school until at least 6pm preparing for this. So if you were disappointed at my recent lack of updates, now you understand ☺ My personal…erm…”me-centered” contribution was not enormous (I made a big Minnesota-themed display), but I was still there for observation, moral support, and assistance wherever I could.

From my perspective, what this event really was was a sort of “pep show/open house” that went beyond just school spirit to encompass personal efforts and those of each “team” (class). It was really quite amazing, observing the prep and how all of the students, even the shyest and quietest, worked together to make this happen. The classrooms were all turned into museums of sorts, each one displaying a different class’s efforts. Here are a few pictures from the English display, as well as one of the Minnesota display that I made…

This is an example of ichinensei, students who have been studying English for 1 year.

And this is from the 2nd year students, ninensei.

Fear the wrath of mos-cow-to!

And here are a few from the arts and crafts department…

You have taken Pooh's honey. Now he shall take your soul!

Sometimes my students worry me. At least they aren't drawing pictures of my bloody, dismembered corpse (yet).

The real highlight of the festival, though, was the show that all of the classes contributed an act to. This was mostly performed on the gymnasium's stage, which was unfortunately too dark for me to photograph properly - I was too far away for a flash to have any meaning, and I don't yet own one of those nifty uber-cameras that can suck in light all the way from Alpha Centauri. Eh...my camera's also a cell phone, web browser, TV, and an .mp3 player, so I can't complain too loudly ^_^

The ichinensei did a big choreographed dance to a mix of popular songs, and sang/shouted along with parts of it. The ninensei put on a skit which actually seemed pretty deep, but much of it was too complicated for me to understand. The basic theme, though, was how we all put on faces - or "masks," the name of the play - to please our parents, classmates, and the rest of society. It involved a gang of punkish kids making trouble in a coffee shop and encouraging the store employees to rebel against their boss, but then stepping outside and asking each other what the point of their nonconformity was. None of them had an answer; one just shrugged and said, "My friend thought it'd be cool."
It ended kind of creepily, with all of the stars donning these eerie expressionless paper-maché masks and saying something like, "These are better; no one knows what our real faces look like anyway."
The sannensei did a hilarious rendition of Beauty and the Beast that included an epic duel between angry, torch-wielding townspeople and six students costumed as silverware. I had to giggle when one of the forks performed a flying headbutt and nearly emasculated a poor guy with his tongs. The look on that kid's face was fucking priceless. I do hope he wasn't actually hurt...

The closing ceremony was lots of laughs, too. The final event was an arm-wrestling contest up on the stage, in front of the whole school. Each class sent forth a few delegates, and teams were formed. Of course, this wouldn't be complete without teacher participation, too...you can see where this is going. They did ask me in advance before inviting me up on stage, and then I faced off against the P.E./Health Education teacher. We put on a damn fine show for them, if I do say so myself. I dove and rolled across the stage to my space at the podium, and he walked on his hands. We then faced off and bowed, pretending to each draw samurai swords at our sides. And let me tell you...what followed was a clash of titans, a battle that will be remembered in epic song for ages to come. I (barely) won, and seriously question whether I would have if he hadn't walked across the stage on his hands right before. That man is freaking strong, especially considering that I probably have about 20cm and at least 10kg on him.

The inevitable drinking party for the teachers followed that evening, and when they asked me to speak I made sure to end by offering the P.E. teacher a rematch, whenever he was ready. I brought him a bag of buffalo jerky the next day and told him it would give him great power. If I survive the rematch, I'll be sure to tell you how it goes.

Calling all cars!

2007-10-04T21:51:00.000-07:00

KJH's yearly school festival is coming up soon, and it's been communicated to me that it would be "a very interesting and good idea" (read: requirement) for me to contribute an exhibit of my home state. I've so far opened this blog up to comments from anyone feeling the urge; I'm now actively asking for your contributions. What do you want Kosaka's young 'uns to learn about the fair state of MN? My goal is to put together something that 12-15 year olds will care about, i.e. I don't want it to read like a tourist brochure. Resources I have available to me include:

Any school supplies you can think of...
-colored paper
-pens
-markers
-all other such material
My MacBook, which will almost certainly be used for PowerPoint
Anything I can get from the 'net in a week's time

I'll (possibly) be visiting a large city this weekend that has a fair supply of international goods, so I'm considering some small (cheap) handouts for my exhibit. Any MN companies come to mind? I may end up using the handouts as a prize to go along with some sort of quiz; this'll help to keep me from going bankrupt in the process of getting enough to go around.

So, what else is our state known for, aside from farms, freezing-ass winters, and mosquitoes big enough to carry away cows? Any and all suggestions are appreciated. I'm interested from hearing from people not in MN right now, as well - what impressions do other states have?

Compulsory English and you!

2007-09-30T06:27:00.000-07:00

Today is not exactly promising to be a gem of a day, so I apologize in advance if this entry gets even more bitter than I originally intended. It started this morning with my mercilessly loud alarm clock waking me after not nearly enough sleep – I had promised myself I’d do a better job at this, but the book I’m currently reading* thwarted my best efforts to put it down and get a good night’s rest. Then I discovered that I was dreadfully low on provisions, and would be surviving sans a proper meal until lunchtime. And then I dumped half of the grape juice I intended for my stomach on my wall, floor, and (miraculously still functioning) cell phone. Sigh.

*The Harsh Cry of the Heron: The Last Tale of the Otori. Think 1600s Japanese historical fiction, with a bit of fantasy element thrown in for flavor. I highly recommend it; the author clearly has a deep understanding of the Japanese language and culture that pervades his writing (he is not Japanese and the book has only been published in English, to my knowledge).

Today I’m back to the School in the Sky, which is a good thing, but is also part of the inspiration for this (rather touchy) subject. As you may be aware, the Japanese education system requires students here to study English for the equivalent of 7th through 12th grade. Many elementary schools are even pushing their kids to start it earlier, beginning with the alphabet and basic vocabulary around 4th grade. Mind you, it takes until 6th grade for the Japanese to completely learn the 2000+ characters they need to know to read their own language, so foreign language instruction at that early level is pretty rudimentary.

Anyway, students study English for a minimum of six years here, whether they like it or not. They study very specific, standardized English, though, through which the one goal is preparing them for high school and college entrance exams. Any of you who have made a serious effort at learning a foreign language before may have an idea of how much this sucks. What happens when your knowledge base has grown to the point where you start becoming curious about grammar and vocabulary not covered by the government-stamped-and-approved textbook? Here…well, not much, unless you’re lucky enough to study somewhere that has an after school English club (not so much the case around my area, but it’s a goal of mine to get one started). So, we have pretty much every student in Japan doing the same dry, boring-ass New Horizon P.O.S. for 6+ years…does it shock you that they aren’t all chomping at the bit with excitement?
The obvious result of this system is that not all students want to learn English. And they certainly don’t all plan on going into English-related fields in the future (if they’re even considering that sort of thing at age 14), so they don’t even have a reason to learn it (aside from those bloody entrance exams, of course). We shouldn’t, then, be at all surprised when we encounter students who couldn’t be arsed to study English even if they were being paid for it. Especially because…

In Japan, one does not fail classes. This is not because they are necessarily a country of geniuses, or because of any sort of societal pressure to study one’s ass off. They don’t fail classes because teachers simply will not fail them. And regardless of what they say, students know this. The students who don’t care (fortunately the minority) know that they do not have to try, that they can sail through junior high school and they’ll still be handed a diploma at the end of 9th grade. They may or may not go on to high school, but that’s hardly a concern of theirs – no, the law does not require them to. These students (hereafter referred to as Coat-racks) can usually blend in well in an average classroom of 30-40, but take them outside that sort of camouflage zone and they stick out like proverbial sore thumbs.

This gets back to part of the inspiration for this entry, the School in the Sky. Most of the kids here are great; they put forth a serious effort (at least, in the English classes that I’m part of) and the teachers all seem proud of them. There are currently only 11 students in this entire little school, though, and the average class size is 2, so there’s nowhere for Coat-racks to hide. When I first walked into one sannensei class here and discovered within ten minutes that my ichinenseis could pwn them without even trying, it was a tad depressing. I asked a little about this and got rather nebulous responses: so-and-so isn’t good at studying, they are often truant, they aren’t interested in going to school, etc. Umm…why? The teachers either honestly don’t know or are saying so to cover for some sort of situation they don’t want to talk about. One can see how this seriously hampers my goal of turning would be Coat-racks into productive, almost-English-speaking members of society.
I don’t really feel angry with these kids, though; they are part of a system that utterly fails to instill in them any desire to succeed. And that’s where I ideally come in.

My role as an English teacher here is one of both instructor and motivator, and the latter is infinitely more complicated than the former. Surely, I have the option of taking the easy way out, of spending my time with the kids who do give a shit and who want to make something of themselves instead of slipping through the cracks of society and working in a factory or McD’s for the rest of their lives. But if I do that, I fail in what is easily at least half of my job here. This doesn’t by any stretch of the imagination mean that I’ve got this motivation thing figured out, though. Humor and general self-degradation are fun and will make (most) students pay attention for at least a bit, but I’m not always the font of clownish idiocy that I strive to be. And there is always that first part of the job, teaching. Ah, what a balancing act this is turning out to be.
In the long run, I know I’ll be fine. I also know that I can’t “save” everyone, that some students are happy where they are and don’t want my help. It still hurts to see them fall, though, especially since I’m fair certain that no one else will pick them up.

My immaturity

2007-09-24T06:58:00.000-07:00

If ever you harbored even the suspicion that living in Japan would kill my puerile sense of humor...Ha! Think again, my friend, think again.

Heh-heh. Hey Beavis, check this out... I kid you not, this is seriously a restaurant near my place.

Does your trash can kiss your ass?

Playing with our boogers in science class.

This is what happens when you feed a young Japanese male his body weight in beer.

Ok, WTF? I know it's just a box of incense, but still... Gonna get me some hot black lovin' tonight!
The pot leaf really completes the image, too. Do you suppose this is a subliminal racist statement on the supposed pharmaceutical habits of some African-American men and women?

And revisiting that first image, I am now accepting caption suggestions for the above. "This Old Woody" and "Little Boner on the Prairie" are ideas I've received so far.

A picture’s worth a thousand cliché sayings…

2007-09-24T06:34:00.000-07:00

…none of which will be repeated here :)

Current mood: annoyed
Current music: Linkin Park
Correlation? Maybe.

I just found out that the school lunches I’ve been eating for free will become something I get to (have to) pay for, starting in October. It’s break time after lunch at School in the Sky (or, mountains anyway), and I just finished another one of my awestruck tours around the place, camera in hand. It’s typical at my schools during lunch/break time for them to play some popular music over the school’s PA…but today it’s “What I’ve Done”...on repeat. Over and over. And over. And again. Grrr.
Ah, well. To take my mind off of that and other stupidity, I’ll post some pictures of this place. As beautiful as they are, the photographs don’t do this place justice. If there was some way to convey the smell of the Japanese cedar, the sheer atmosphere that comes with being up in the mountains alongside a fog-covered lake, I’d being doing it right now. Still fine-tuning that holodeck, though.

My quasi-day off

2007-09-19T02:37:00.000-07:00

One unfortunate fact of the Japanese work ethic is that they place great value on just showing up, even when there’s not a damn thing to do. See also: today.
Yesterday was a national holiday (敬老の日 – Day of Respect for the Elderly), so everyone was free to do whatever they pleased. I had a plan to drive to Akita City to see a friend or two, but then we received 26 bazillion cm of rain and travel became not exactly safe; Akita City may still be underwater or floating out to the Pacific as I type this. So, I slept in, watched a movie with a friend, and then while channel-surfing we discovered that the autumn sumo wrestling tournament was on, so we watched that for most of the afternoon. There are a surprising number of foreign (not Japanese) wrestlers in sumo these days, I must say. Quite an ass-ton (no pun intended, I swear) of Mongolians, plus a few from Eastern Europe (one of whom I’m pretty sure my friend has the hots for), were in the tournament, even in the upper ranks (ōzeki, 大関). And actually, the two highest ranked guys right now (yokozuna, 横綱) are both Mongolian, although apparently that’s kind of rare. So we sat and cheered and made some tacos and basically did nothing productive all day. It was fabulous.
Getting back to that work ethic thing, though… Sigh. So, school’s still on break today, but I need to show up at the Board of Education anyway, ostensibly to put in a full day’s work. Even the Japanese people in my office, who have the remarkable ability to look busy and/or find work to do in nearly any situation, seemed to understand that we are all in the office today only because not showing up would look bad*. I spent the majority of the morning conducting complicated and exhausting experiments in the fields of physics and aerodynamics with my immediate supervisor. What this really means is that we compared paper airplane designs and tried to see who could keep one airborne the longest, within the confines of the BoE office. She won.

*The Japanese have an inbred fear of or aversion to standing out, in any situation. They even have an expression that translates to, You will be assimi…erm, no, wrong TV show. The nail that sticks up gets hammered down. Yeah, that’s the one. This (mostly) explains my students’ inability to speak the hell up in class, forcing me the drag the answer out of them with 50 lb. test line even when they know it perfectly well.

The afternoon improved somewhat, as one of the local places we get lunch at when I work at the BoE was able to make some udon spicy enough to singe my nosehairs. I worked for a while on some of my fiction, and by the time I could open my mouth without unleashing gouts of flame I decided to go for a wander. I found a few of my students in the BoE building’s common area playing Final Fantasy: Crisis Core on their PSPs. I of course had to play with their gullibility a bit, so I asked them why they weren’t studying for the English test tomorrow (which there isn’t, of course). They discussed their scores on the last English exam (anywhere from 76% down to 22%) and came to the conclusion that they were hopeless, so they might as well continue trying to beat the White Dragon. Sigh. I do indeed have my work cut out for me.
In slightly more promising news, there was also a group of girls (likewise some of my students) who were actually studying. A few were working on social studies, something about French independence I think, but I didn’t pay too much attention. The rest were engrossed in a ‘bonus project’ for English – nothing I assigned since I hadn’t seen it before. I spent a good hour sitting with them, sipping some hideously sugared coffee and helping when they got stuck on their English project. It mostly involved searching one of their textbooks for translations of unfamiliar expressions, but it kept my attention because unlike the entirety of the New Horizon textbooks we use in class, this one contained useful, [gasp!] relevant expressions. I don’t care if the Japanese government has a steamy love affair with every last page of New Horizon; Ann Green can still go straight to hell – do not pass go, do not collect $200.

Profiling my school

2007-09-11T16:30:00.000-07:00

Happy terrorist day, everyone! No, it's not actually something anyone pays attention to over here. Warms my heart to think that other civilized countries have gotten over it by now. Anyway, on to the substantial parts of this post.
I've been asked more than once what some of the students and teachers are like at my school(s), so I'll share a bit. I primarily teach at Kosaka Junior High, so this'll be about people there.

Ms. Giggles
Ms. Giggles is the youngest teacher at KJH, being fresh out of college and in her first year here. She teaches English and laughs at everything. She has this ridiculously girly, high-pitched laugh that, coming from anyone less educated, would be nearly suicide-inducing. Somehow she manages to pull it off, though. We first met kind of randomly when all of the teachers (none of whom I had met at this time) were invited on a tour of a new high-tech recycling plant that had just been opened in Odate (next town over, about 2o min. by car). On the way back, a woman I had spoken to briefly asked me if I'd like to exchange bus seats with her. She was sitting next to Giggles, who apparently wanted to talk to me but was too shy to ask. I think her head nearly exploded when I sat down next to her and tried some conversation. Turns out she's real sweet, though, and fun to teach with (all of the English classes are team-teaching style).

NEXT...
I refuse to steal the name Ms. (or even Mrs., since she's recently married) Americanized, but I'm hard-pressed to come up with one more appropriate (so far). She's the next English teacher up the food chain, and she went to college in Washington state for four years, so she basically speaks perfect English. We'll go with Mrs. Freckles for now, since she has quite a population of them. I've had a great time teaching and planning lessons with her so far, as she has a good grasp of American humor. Our current project involves very occasionally rewarding students who perform well with a fake dollar bill, and telling them to take good care of it. We won't tell them what it's for, though, and it drives them batshit crazy. I spent 15 minutes of lunch time today dodging questions from one poor boy who begged me to tell him before the next exam, because he was worried that the stress would keep him from adequately preparing. Tee-hee, I'm such an ass.

Baldy
I don't actually work with Baldy every day, but he's the bureau chief of the Board of Education, so I see him plenty. As you might have guessed, he has very little hair. I did not have to give him this name, though - one of his co-workers at the BoE introduced him as Baldy when we met on my first day in Kosaka. This is indeed the same one I mentioned at the end of "Sugitaru wa oyobazaru ga gotoshi." He's the sort of guy who always has a mischievous gleam in his eye, as if he's constantly sharing some private joke with everyone he speaks to. And he loves beer. We get along well, needless to say.

CPB
CPB is short for Condescending, Patronizing Bitch. This may come as a shock to you, but I don't care for her much. CPB is the principal's secretary. The principal is a kind, old man who really seems to love what he does, but his harpy is a waste of human parts. She speaks to everyone (that I've witnessed) with a sing-song, holier-than-thou mannerism that grates on the nerves, and she seems to enjoy finding useless tasks to occupy my time. My recent *ahem* favorite was a form that needed to be filled out after I went out on a business-related event during work hours. She had filled out the entire form in pencil, and then asked me to trace her letters in pen. Because obviously she doesn't know how to use a pen herself, and just giving me the bloody thing to fill out from scratch would mean acknowledging that I have a reasonable understanding of her language (she knows I speak Japanese). Better yet, when I was finished filling it out in blue pen (she hadn't specified a color preference), she asked me to retrace it in black pen.
...If you listen closely, you might be able to hear my eyes rolling. I swear that if she disappears and they never find the body, though, that I had nothing to do with it. Ah, but this entry has enough vitriol for now. Moving on...

Squid Boy
Squid Boy is a sannensei student who is generally one of the more active and enthusiastic class participants. For this reason alone I'm glad to have him around; he sets a fine example for all the other kids who need to consult with their nearest 4 neighbors just to answer a question like, "Do you live in Kosaka?" His nickname isn't a tremendously profound affair, though; it just came from the first English statement he made to me. I was eating lunch with his class one day, and he came up to me and announced, "I...like SQUID! I love it!!" Whatever does it for ya, kid.

Egghead
Egghead's nickname has nothing to do with the shape of his head (well, mostly...he is kind of baldish), but comes from his diet-related choices.
School lunches are served in the classrooms; there is no separate cafeteria. All of the food is wheeled in on a big metal cart, and students dish up the food, eat, and bus their own dishes. One day the main course included some meat, vegis, and scrambled egg served over noodles (kind of like fried rice w/o the rice part). The egg was served from a separate bowl, and there was a lot left over after everyone had taken their share. So, Egghead finishes eating, refills his bowl half way with rice, and then proceeds to pile about a kilo of egg matter on top and dig right in. Everyone around him watched in horror, and I think a few made bets on whether he'd finish his embryonic mountain or not. I pity anyone who had to be downwind of that boy a few hours later.

I've not given tongue-in-cheek nicknames to the majority of my students, but some of them have really impressed me.
I ate lunch with one of the ninensei classes recently, and tried to talk to a shy boy who was reading a magazine after fooding was complete. The magazine had some pictures of motorbikes in it, and it turns out that this kid rides motocross up in the mountains every weekend - he's freaking 13 years old!
Another had some highly detailed pictures of anime characters in a plastic bag on his desk. He carefully removed one of them and began to trace around the edges with a razor blade*. As I watched he completely cut out this figure in absurd detail, down to the individual locks of hair that stuck up in different directions. He told me that he makes collages from these and does some sketching as well. I asked to see his sketch book, which contained a plethora of tanks, guns, and airplanes, plus a few Gundam-like creations, all in incredible detail. I have a feeling this kid has a steady enough hand to perform brain surgery.

*Yes, it's ok to have a razor blade in school here. In Japan, a razor blade is a tool and not a WMD.

I've written all my hands are good for right now, but I imagine this post will have additions as I encounter more people who have stories I'd like to tell.

More than meets the eye, baby

2007-09-09T23:55:00.000-07:00

I imagine I'm embarrassingly late here, at least compared to the rest of this planet, but I finally saw the Transformers movie last Thursday. As the Transformers have been near and dear to my heart ever since Weird Al first graced the original cartoon with "Dare to be Stupid" in 1986, I can't pass up the opportunity to turn my impressions of it into a blog entry.

The Good

Peter Cullen. Bringing back the original voice of Optimus Prime was nearly enough nostalgia to bring a tear to my eye. The choice of Hugo Weaving for Megatron's voice was also a fine one, indeed.
Consistency? At first I was worried when I heard that Megatron didn’t turn into a gun…whadya mean you’re not sticking with the classics? Shame! Shame, I say! But as it turned out, having the Transformers able to change into any object they had studied/analyzed/whatever was a wise move that gave them a much more…hmm, organic feel, I guess. In any case, I approve.
And I know it’s been said and said and said by this point, but the special effects are totally badass.

The Bad

Soundtrack use. The credits were packed with moderate to really good songs (ok, aside from Stinkin’ Park), some originally written for this movie, but a much better effort could have been made to meld these songs into the movie itself, like they used to do with soundtracks in days of old. Disturbed’s “This Moment” comes to mind – that would have been perfect for the battle between Optimus Prime and Megatron. Instead, though, we’re left with some quasi-epic orchestral blah, and this song is number 3 into the credits. Psssh, I say. In modern times I’m not sure they can even legally be called soundtracks, as ‘Music Inspired By The Movie’ would be a much more accurate way of describing the damn things.
Michael Bay. Michael Bay blows shit up and occasionally tosses in some pithy dialogue to make us groan and shake our heads. Michael Bay is not a plot guy. No effort whatsoever was made to develop the backgrounds of characters like Megatron or Optimus Prime, who apparently had some serious history together. There’s a line toward the end of the movie that hints at this, but all we’re given is that taste and nothing more.
Sequel setup. In this age of trilogies, follow-ups, and rehashes this comes as no surprise, but from about 10 minutes in, the entire movie felt to me like it was foreshadowing the inevitable sequel. Worse yet, I can see indications that the sequel will follow some of the plot of the original Transformers cartoon movie. Granted, if justice can be done in bringing Unicron (yes, I know Orson Wells is dead) back to the big screen, that may not be entirely a bad thing…still, it annoyed me to sit in the audience and think, Do they really believe us to be this stupid? But then, when you consider that 50% of all people are below average intelligence…*sigh* Yes, they do. Say it with me, kids:

low·est com·mon de·nom·i·na·tor [loh-ist kom-uhn di-nom-uh-ney-ter]; IPA: /ˈloʊ ɪst ˈkɒmən dɪˈnɒməˌneɪtər/
noun.
1. The most basic, least sophisticated level of taste, sensibility, or opinion among a group of people.
2. The group having such taste, sensibility, or opinion

The Nauseating

Oh, this is an easy one - fucking product placement. I was at first horrified to hear that Soundwave would turn into an iPod instead of his classic boombox. Then, to my great relief, I heard that they had axed this idea. Now that I’ve finally seen the movie, I understand that one little travesty like that is as a drop of salt water in the freaking Pacific. I can immediately recall utterly shameless plugs for eBay, Mountain Dew, and Ford Camaro, and I have not the slightest doubt that I’d find fistfuls more were I to journey up to Hirosaki to see this commerc…erm, movie again.

And just to keep this post semi-relevant to Japan, I’ll end with a hilarious online comment from Austin, another teacher I know…

“I once asked some of my junior high kids to think of a kanji version of the Japanese version of my name, ‘Osutein.’ They settled on ‘big/great’ for the ‘o-’ and ‘vinegar’ for the ‘su.’ They then claimed that ‘tein’ was too hard and settled on ‘chin’ instead. Those of you with some familiarity with Japanese can imagine which kanji they chose for ‘chin.’
Thus, I became known as ‘Great Vinegar Penis.’ I tried to get a hanko with that, but for some reason my Board of Education refused...

-Great Vinegar Penis”

Rewinding the first week

2007-08-30T20:35:00.000-07:00

It's really not possible for me to pick a single event out of my first real week of teaching that's worth writing about more than the rest, so I'll try (albeit rather ham-handedly) to lump it all together into one entry.
I teach junior high school, grades 1-3, which is the equivalent to American 7th - 9th grades. The ichinensei (first grade) know basically no English, unless they were lucky enough to have some meaningful* exposure to it before their former studies began. The ninensei (second grade) theoretically know enough to carry on a basic conversation, but in practice they have the confidence of a pygmy shrew, so don't count on it. The sannensei (third grade) are pretty fun; they seem to enjoy class participation a bit more than the rest. While it's possible that this is because they've developed enough English skills to have confidence in their abilities, I'm much more inclined to chalk it up as a freak accident.

*not American TV

Noteworthy experience number one would have to be during one of our "What is..." activities with the ichinensei. I first ask them a number of "What is..." questions which they repeat. The second time through, they answer the question instead of repeating me, but that's not the important part. One section includes several "What is your favorite..." questions (you hardcore geeks out there should see where this is heading), and one of my students handily earned the nickname of Tim by repeating one of my questions back to me as such: "WHAT!!...is your favorite color?"

Blue. No, yell-- Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!

Next was skit time with the sannensei. They are working on memorizing a lengthy dialogue in which one visits the home of the other and they are enjoying some refreshments. Part of the memorization process is for the students, after practicing the transcript with their partners, to try to write out most of it w/o looking at the original. All was going well and good, 'cept for one guy in front who is called squid-boy for completely unrelated reasons.
Squid-boy speaks darned good English for a 15-year old who's been at this for 3 hours/week for a little over 2 years. He finished his writing very quickly...he made one teensy mistake, though, that nearly made me burst out laughing in class. The correct line in the dialogue was "Please help yourself." He had written "Pleasure yourself."
Once I had finished stifling my laughter, I pointed this out to him by just asking him to look at that section. He, without the slightest smirk or bat of an eyelash, asked me if there was a problem with his work. Did he seriously just make an unintentional masturbation joke? ...I think he may have.

And finally was an event from just this morning, one that still has me a bit...God, I don't know. Baffled? Stunned? Something like that.
One of the instructors works (well, worked) part-time here. He's an older guy, and I'd honestly not even had the chance to speak with him in the week or so that we've been working in the same school. During morning announcements, the vice-principal announced that due to some medical issues (back problems, if I understood correctly) this would be his last day. Suddenly the principal's secretary was hurtling down the middle of the room, armed with a bouquet of flowers that probably weighed more than her. She presented them, the guy said a few words about how he'll try to rest and get better, and then he was gone in a cloud of smoke. Well, very nearly. Did this guy just ninja-retire? I think he may have. Not the slightest sign of pomp or circumstance, just an enormous bouquet and a few words.
Afterward, all I could think over and over again was that I didn't even know his name.

Don't be disabled in Japan

2007-08-29T20:10:00.000-07:00

Being disabled in Japan is a real sumbitch. I’ve never witnessed any outright rudeness or hostility toward those with disabilities, but the sort of passive-aggressive condescension that the disabled are subjected to in this country may very well be worse.

My school is not a particularly horrible example, but there have been a few incidents that have rather pissed me off. Amongst the 170 or so students at Kosaka Junior High, one is confined to a wheelchair. As best I can tell, his mental faculties are perfectly intact; he just can’t walk. Still, the only place left for him in every class is at the very back of the classroom. When one considers that the vast majority of lessons in a Japanese school take place lecture-style, with the instructor at the front and the students in neat rows, this is a serious disadvantage. I always walk amongst the students and teach from different areas of the classroom, but my class is only one of at least six that this kid is taking. I’ve even taken to randomly (well, somewhat…) rearranging the students to allow for different experiences in the same classroom, but I know that I’m the only one to do this.

Worse than this, though, was the special class I visited for the “mentally disabled.” There are presently only a few students in the school who qualify for this sort of special instruction, but I found the approach quite bothersome. The students are about 13 or 14 years old, and they may be a little slow to pick up on things but they’re certainly not severely handicapped. (In fact, the only handicap I observed in one girl there was that she was really, really, really short. Which, in Japan, means that she is about the size of a housecat. She’s a bright kid, though, and didn’t have any trouble with the English lessons I helped her with.) I found the treatment they receive to be subtly quite demeaning, with the “class” consisting entirely of childish games and such. The head instructor also played this obnoxious Sesame Street-esque CD for the entire 50 minutes of the class. Interacting with the kids was fun enough, but my thoughts were constantly interrupted by fantasies of me alone in a room with that CD player and a 12 gauge shotgun. Damn, it feels good to be a gangster…

I hold onto hope that the instructors of these classes will make an effort to respect the dignity of the students, but there’s not much more I can do. I’m only an observer when I show up, so my opinions are irrelevant. Moreover, I have no training (and frankly, no interest) in special ed., so I’m hardly qualified to make an issue of it. My gut instinct still says, though, that something just ain’t right.

"Sugitaru wa oyobazaru ga gotoshi." ―

2007-08-20T22:03:00.000-07:00

―　"Too much is as bad as too little."

Today has convinced me that when we talk about it raining cats, dogs, pitchforks, anvils, or whatever in Minnesota, we don't have a damn clue what we're talking about. This country skips straight past that shit and pours giraffes, African elephants, tractors, and entire fucking forges on its hapless citizens. And yet somehow, through some sort of weird genetic accident, Kosaka Junior High's baseball team is still able to practice in this weather. The logistics of this totally escape me...I’m fair certain I would need gills just to survive a walk to my apartment right now.

In other news, I've begun something that resembles a productive work day. So far it's just preparatory work for classes that begin on Friday, but it ain't nothin' at least. I get an entire period with each of my classes just to introduce myself and basically torment them in any way I see fit. It's been complicated so far, as for my ruse to work I need the students to all believe that I don't speak a word of Japanese. “Well, surely that can't be hard,” you say. “After all, it's summer break. What student in their right mind would actually be at school?”
...Har. Har, har. This ain't grandpa's old-school American summer-vacation-is-the-time-for-growing-fat-and-forgetting　everything-we've-learned type of educational institution, no siree. Every student is required to take part in an after-school club, and as best I can tell, they all practice every day. Yes, weekends and vacations, too. And these kids are 12-15 years old. I imagine what it'll be like for them when they’re mature enough to survive real work, and it's no wonder to me that this country invented the ninja. Flip out and kill shit, indeed.

And finally, the first of my two official welcoming parties is tonight. This one is being held by the city's Board of Education, where my direct supervisor works and where I reported to for my first few weeks here. The head manager guy (not sure of his official title, but he's a step below the area's superintendent), a hilarious little bald guy who's taken great pleasure in showing me around Kosaka so far, stopped by my school on some business today, and reminded me of the event tonight. In and of itself this is perfectly cool, but he had a wicked gleam in his eye that made me think long and hard about his particular brand of humor.

...I do believe that evil bastard intends to get me quite drunk.

Japan is not America

2007-08-14T18:53:00.000-07:00

Well, duh. Living here, though, it's the little things I notice, the kind of stuff that doesn't exactly leap off of cnn.com and into your living room.
Take hot water, for example. A device called a tempering valve is used on hot water heaters to mix enough cold water with the hot from the heater to keep the outgoing water temperature fixed, often set to 50°C (122°F) in the U.S. I'm not sure if this is just industry standard, or if it is regulated by law to keep our lawsuit-thirsty country from scalding ourselves and subsequently suing water heater companies into the ground, but it's the case either way.
Japan doesn't quite roll that way...if you turn on the hot water tap, the resulting output is really fucking stupid hot. I kid you not, I had a first degree burn on my hand from a drop of water that splashed from the sink onto my skin. I couldn't even run my razor under hot water and touch it to my face to shave in the morning; I had to turn on the cold tap just as strong as the hot to make that basic everyday activity manageable.
Moral of the story? Don't mess with Japanese plumbing, or you will be punished.

Here's another one for ya - Japan doesn't seem to believe in clothes dryers. Everyone hangs their clothes out to dry, whether they live in a sprawling country estate or an apartment the size of a shoebox. This has resulted in a disturbing national pastime, the stealing of womens' underwear. As if it wasn't enough to sell used schoolgirl panties in vending machines...
Trust me, I really wish I was making that one up.

Swords

2007-08-13T23:16:00.000-07:00

Holy shit, I am giddy. In pain, but giddy. Take a moment to get all of the crude sex jokes out of your system...okay, now I'll tell you what actually happened.

Before arriving in Japan, I had heard from Andrew, the local CIR (coordinator for international relations), that the town's dentist was into iaido and I'd probably be asked if I wanted lessons. Sure, sounds cool. Swords hadn't really been my thing in previous martial arts training, but why not? Good a time as any for changes in one's lifestyle.

So, one of my coworker/supervisor people took me to meet this guy maybe a week or so ago. We met him at his dental clinic, and he brought us into his office, poured tea, and wasted no time getting right to it:

Him: So, I hear you're interested in iaido. When do you want to start? How's this weekend?
Me: Bwuh? Um, sure...I have hakama but I don't have a blade I can use...
Him: No prob, you can use one of mine. I'll lend it to you so you can practice at home.
Me: ...?!!

So, I now have in my apartment a several hundred dollar sword, and parts of me I didn't know I had still ache. We probably trained for about 9 hours this weekend, and he's said that he'll train me for free (!). He said as long as I'm serious about it I can come to his dojo (which is right next to his big, beautiful home up in the hills) and train every week.

Allow me to channel Keanu Reeves for a moment...Whoa.

Work, or lack thereof

2007-08-13T22:34:00.000-07:00

I'm a bit embarrassed that I'm actually getting paid right now. The first few days of "work" here consisted of meeting all sorts of people around Kosaka, doing the diplomacy dance, opening a bank account, and other necessities like that, but...wait a tic...I get to do this during work hours? Without taking vacation time? And you'll ferry me around town in the city-owned car and help me with everything? Heh heh. This ain't right, but it still puts a teensy smile on my face.

Now that most of the prerequisites to a comfortable life here have been taken care of, work is, well...*ahem* I show up. I study Japanese, write in my blog, read e-mail, find other ways to keep myself entertained for 8 hours, and then go home. Oh, and there's a 45 minute break from these rigors for lunch. Every now and then there'll actually be some stimulating conversation with a coworker, but they all seem to keep busy most of the time. Thank God, Vishnu, Krishna, Buddha, Amaterasu, Jehovah, and possibly even Yahweh (plus anyone else who's listening) that this won't continue much longer, because I'm seriously considering sharpening some bamboo twigs and giving myself a tattoo, just to fill the time. Starting on the 20th, though, I actually report to the junior high school instead of the city office I'm presently at, and then I'll be able to get to know the people I'll be teaching with, along with preparing lesson plans, etc. And I'll have a desk of my own that I can decorate in suitable gaijin fashion. Suggestions, anyone?

In the Beginning...

2007-08-13T21:50:00.000-07:00

I hope not too many people have been checking this in recent days and wondering if I’d abandoned the idea entirely. No, I’m here! Busy as hell, but now I finally have some time (and a ‘net connection I can pillage) so some of what I’ve written can be immortalized on teh interwebs.

First, a quick introduction, to set the scene. At the end of July this year, I moved to Kosaka, Japan, to participate in the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) Program. I live in a teeny mountain town (~7,000 people, and that’s really small for Japan) that doesn’t see a single rail of Japan’s much-lauded mass transit, and until I get a car in a few weeks, I ain’t goin’ far. I will be teaching English at Kosaka Junior High (this is grades 7, 8, and 9 over here), and occasionally visiting Nanataki, Towadako, and Kosaka Elementary Schools to assist with introductory lessons to foreign cultures.

This is a complete and utter departure from the sort of life this city-boy is used to, and I think it will be great for me.

When everyone on the program (1500 or so people) arrived, we spend the first few days getting wined and dined (ok, more so the latter than the former) at the Keio Plaza Hotel in Shinjuku, Tokyo while we suffered through endless ceremonies and seminars, and bonded over way more beer than can possibly be healthy. None of that is too exciting when reproduced in text, though, so I’ll fast-forward to my actual home, now that I’m here.

Kosaka’s biggest draw is its natural beauty, which it has in abundance. I eagerly await getting my bike here so I can properly explore a little more of it. Within a few days of my arrival was the Tanabata Festival, a yearly event in which different districts of the town build and push around these huge floats with drums mounted in them, and have a sort of drum-off whenever they run into each other. We were the Shin-Hana district, and we had a ton of people in our group, including 5 (count ‘em, 5!) foreigners. Not too shabby, considering that I’m one of two who actually live in Kosaka. The other guys were former participants of the JET Program (henceforth abbreviated to JETs) who used to live in Kosaka, and came all the way from Tokyo for this. As a picture’s still worth a thousand words, I’ll stop typing and refer you to the electronically captured image above...