|
| Or "A Microcosm of the Unfathomable and Awkward Aspects of Japanese Culture"
So this afternoon, in the midst of the partial Swine Flu Quarantine which was keeping all the junior high students home for the week, my three native-English-speaking colleagues and I attended a seminar on English education being held at a local high school. It promised to be a complete bore--1.5 hours of listening to some professor talk about the nuances of English grammar, in JAPANESE.
Being fully aware that we weren't supposed to park in the school parking lot, we pulled up just outside the gate, scarfed down our McD's lunches, and then pulled into the school parking lot and parked. J and K, two seemingly manly guys (okay, they're really tall, anyway), were groaning in pain from just having consumed entire Double Quarter Pounders (which, in other words, are Half-Pounders). I secretly thought, Hey, if I were on an empty stomach, I could down one of those, easily. I don't like to admit the full extent of my unfeminine appetite though.
We entered the meeting room...actually, it was exactly the same as a classroom, only with long tables instead of desks. (A setting that really didn't live up to the grandeur of the event's title: "Kobe Shibu Kenkyu Taikai" or "Kobe Chapter Academic Convention".) The first half hour was the general meeting of whatever English association was hosting the esteemed linguistics professor, Mr. O. One middle-aged man read off a list of events the association had the previous year. Another one read off every single expense from that year: 1600 yen for tea for a meeting, 880 yen for transportation to somewhere, etc. Between each speaker, the female emcee said, "If you agree, please clap," after which a polite applause followed. The room was full of middle-aged men and about three women, not including me and M, who were all listening patiently, and sleepily. Very wisely, I used the time to reinforce my kanji knowledge (very easy since the speakers were reading off the handouts, word for word) and daydream about spending time with Aki this weekend.
After the meeting, there was a short break. Few people got up, and before the break was over, everyone was seated again, waiting patiently for the main event. The emcee, a youngish nervous-looking woman, announced robot-like into the mike: "The break is over. Please take your seats." Nobody moved, because they were already SITTING. Mr. O took the mike and started launching into a spiel about how English grammar is determined by the situation in which it's used ('Isn't this obvious??' I thought). Ten seconds in, an association member hurried to the front to adjust the portable speaker volume, even though we could all hear just fine, and the room was tiny to begin with. Mr. O paused awkwardly to let him finish his adjustments, which apparently didn't work, as the guy continued to tinker around with the speakers. Mr. O decided to continue sans mike as the tinkering and whispered panic between the guy and the emcee continued. We were directed to look at our handouts, which had a list of example sentences.
(1) a. When I eat an egg, I get egg on my tie.
b. When I eat egg, I get an egg on my tie.
"What is the difference between these sentences?" Mr. O was saying. "And how do we teach that difference to students?" As he elaborated, saying that, he for one, did sometimes get egg on his tie while eating, a very loud, very pronounced snore came from the FRONT of the room. "ZZZZZZZZ!" Mr. O paused with surprise, and gave a little laugh. "Oh! Oh, I see," and continued with his lecture. I looked straight ahead and concentrated very, very hard on not bursting out with laughter. The sleeper was one of the general meeting speakers, and was obviously pretty tired from reading off the budget as he snored from then on, through the *entire* lecture. Mr. O continued to plow through the example sentences.
(7) a. Have you visited the Picaso exhibition?
b. Did you visit the Picaso exhibition?
(9) My mother has changed my diaper many times.
"So when do we say 'has changed' and when do we say 'changed' in this situation?" Mr. O asked rhetorically. "Well, if your mother is still alive, you say 'has changed'. You only say 'changed' if she has already died, which would be pretty sad." I thought, "When, WHEN would anyone ever use this particular sentence? Is this something a baby says to his baby friend, both of whom can't speak yet? Do normal adults include this in conversation?" Suddenly, a man's voice came out of the portable speaker; it sounded like he was having a conversation with someone. An event organizer rushed forward to turn the speaker off, and again, I suppressed the urge to laugh.
As the shadows lengthened, the lecture crawled on....and on. As impressed as I was with Mr. O's genuine passion for grammatical nuances, it was too much technical Japanese for me to take, and besides, he was a linguist enthralled with a foreign language, and I was a native-born speaker of that language. And, the thing was, here's this academic espousing this view that English needs to be taught differently, when in fact, his approach isn't different at all from the normal approach taken here. Who CARES about these minimal grammatical differences, when even native speakers don't stick to every little rule? We need to be teaching foreign languages in context; without a context in which it is used, a language completely loses its meaning, in my view. So, I was totally overwhelmed by both extreme sleepiness and utter frustration.
At the end, there were a few questions from audience members, who asked Mr. O to elaborate even MORE on specific example sentences: "Can you explain more about the difference between 'Hillary pushed Bill out,' and 'Hillary pushed Bill'?" "I thought it was so interesting to learn that 'The mouse ran behind the curtain' means that it went to the curtain, not that it was running around behind it." M turned to me and whispered, "Isn't it incredible how much people in this country study our language?" I had to agree.
| | |
|  Ignore the goofy flower.
Admire instead the perfect straightness of the bottom hem, the way the collar stands just slightly apart from the back of the neck, the nice vertical edge running from obi to hem.
Okay, there are some imperfections here, but I'm so pleased anyway with my very first attempt at putting on a yukata! Yes, it's my fifth summer here, and until now, I've never had to sort out the frustrating folds of this deceivingly simple garment...by myself.
It's strange how certain outfits bring back certain feelings and memories, much the way particular smells do. After spending this long in Japan, summers will always mean yukatas to me. In the countryside, girls wear their yukatas to local festivals, where there are folk songs and dancing along with the fried foods. In the city, girls wear them to fireworks shows, often flanked by their jeans-clad boyfriends.
Also, I've noticed that city yukatas tend to be a lot more fashionable, with shimmery obi's peeking out of the regular one and billowing out in back, and bright cords with blingy accessories tied around, not to mention the curl-and-flower-accented up-do's. These more fashionable yukatas are updated in color sense as well, and the "in" colors shift a bit every year, of course. Last year or so, black-background-vivid-pattern yukatas came into fashion for teenagers, and white-background-subtle-patterned ones for 20-somethings. (I could be wrong about the age division, but that's my perception based on who seemed to be wearing what.) Subtle pink, magenta, lavender (or other purples), mint-green, yellow, and light blue seem especially hip these days.
Cases in point...
   
   
   
   
Of course, the hipper a yukata is, the more it costs. Inexpensive ones (including the obi) start at about $50; standard ones are $150-$200; the ones you really want can be $250 and up. I spent $300 on mine (at Marui-Marui), plus $40 just for the decorative cord. I know it's really ridiculous to spend this much on a single garment that I'll only wear once or twice a year...but I couldn't help but *need* one after seeing some gorgeous ones on other girls. Beauty fuels desire, and desire makes you poor, I guess.
| | |
| So today promised to be like any other work day. I got up half an hour after my alarm, did all my morning stuff, and somehow had time for a quick breakfast (toasted rolls, cherries, iced coffee). Biked uphill to the station, caught the 7:55 train (although I usually try to get the 7:48), and walked 20 minutes to school, passing all the lolling-about students who tend to clog up the sidewalks as they chat and study their notes. Mopped the sweat off my face, put on a cardigan, and did a quick face-to-face with my co-homeroom teacher, Mr. N. Morning homeroom started with a brief silent prayer; I did my announcements in English, and Mr. N did his in Japanese. First period, one of my free ones, went by.
Then came second period. I teach half of each junior high English convo class by myself, and this one was MY homeroom class. Theoretically, they're the ones I should have the least trouble with, since I actually know all their names (very useful for calling them out on sleeping or chatting in class). Pretty much since the beginning though, this particular group has been my most difficult. I mean, I love each of them, and they are GREAT kids, and their misbehaviors are really very, VERY minor compared to the worst of them in Japan. But for some reason, they've decided that MY class is study hall or something, even though I emphasized at the beginning that they would be graded on their class participation and performance on interview tests. Most of them spend the entire class chatting with their friends, while a few others tune out in general. I've scolded them; I've changed the activities; I've talked with the other English convo teacher to see how they are in her class and to get ideas. AND THEY NEVER CHANGE. It's like pulling teeth to get them to do *anything*, whether it's simple pair practices or games. The level might be a little low for most of them, but that's ususally because we can never get to the more advanced, interesting stuff! So today, after I asked one girl, "Do you know what we're doing?" and she replied, "No," without seeming to care, and then after observing that *nobody* was paying attention, I just stopped teaching. And I spoke in Japanese. Something to the effect of, "This isn't right. I understand if you're tired, especially since you've been preparing for the Culture Festival. But talking in class? I don't get it. Are we going to go on like this for a year?? Maybe this class isn't interesting to you, but if you don't PAY ATTENTION, we can't go on to anything interesting, right?!" There was a little more, and then, in an angryish, emotional voice, "Naoshitekudasai!" (Sorry, can't translate that...maybe, "Fix yourselves!") At the end, without expecting to, I just started crying. I think I was as shocked as my students probably were. I ended with, "This is a waste of time. It's a waste of MY time. Let's finish now. Stand up." And I ended class, and exited without looking back.
I used my entire 10 minute break to cry while trying not to and then cover up the evidence in the bathroom. When I met with Ms. T for our high school 3rd-year reading class, I knew she could tell, so I admitted, "I got a little emotional with my students." At which point I teared up again (god, I hate that about myself!) and she immediately put a firm arm around my shoulder and said, "Go ahead and cry. Don't hold back! Cry in front of your students! You are young and it is wonderful to be able to cry." I was grateful. When we walked into the classroom, a few of the girls stared at me, and said, "What's wrong?" Ms. T told them, "Her junior high students made her cry!" At which point all the 3rd years (15 students, mostly girls, most of whom studied abroad last year) surrounded me and tried to hug me. One said, "What brats!" And another said, "They're so mean!" I felt extremely lucky, but also wanted to at least act the part of a semi-composed adult, so tried not to say much for fear of tearing up again. Ms. T was smiling at the students trying to comfort me and said, "You know, when I was a young teacher, almost every day, I went to my desk and sobbed."
The best thing about a school day is, it ends. There's always a chance to start anew the next day. Which I completely intend to do. Forgive (both myself and my students), forget, put it all behind. But I still feel really uncomfortable with the fact that I actually "lost it" in front of my kids...and it's not like they did much to provoke it! I've heard stories of students punching teachers, throwing desks out windows, using their keitais in class... this wasn't even a grain of salt compared to that! Also, although I think all my students are good-hearted with the best of intentions (despite being a little childish and selfish), I don't want them to think they can do anything to make me lose control. It's a really unsettling feeling. It's like crossing an invisible line. Even if this is what it is to "become" a teacher, I miss the other side.
| | |
| I've been living in Okamoto for almost a month now...a month! Already! In some ways, it's been like finding that perfect pair of jeans. I love walking around and being surrounded by people, even past 8pm. I love that I can walk out my door and be at one of ten restaurants within a few minutes. I love looking at people's clothes here too... the particular khaki trench coat that all fashionable young women seem to have now, the vivid scarves, the sexy heels...even if it makes me feel fashionably inferior by comparison. I love walking, biking, and taking the train. And what I love in particular about Okamoto is that it has the convenience of central Kobe, but less noise and more trees.
However, in many ways, it still feels like I just got here, maybe because I still feel so disoriented. I still don't completely understand the garbage system here, I don't know where to buy all the things I want to buy (oh Jusco, where are you when I need you?), and although there are so many choices of drug stores, clinics, dry cleaners, and hair salons, I don't know which of those would offer me the best deals or service. I guess I still have a lot of exploring to do before I'm "local" enough to know these things.
My new place, while imperfect, is awesome. Especially now that the drainage pipe on the balcony works. (My laundry machine is there, and as there's no place to directly connect the drainage hose to, the water just sort of goes onto my balcony. At least now, it goes into the pipe too.) I'm proud to say I did a pretty good job throwing out enough stuff that the rest of it would fit into this apartment. It's still a work in progress--I have ambitions of using a curtain to divide my tiny living room into two even tinier spaces, one for chilling out, eating, and watching TV and one for studying, reading, or doing "creative" stuff--but it's comfortable. My first week, I set up two stools on my balcony after waking up every day so I could have coffee and bread while watching people walk by on the street four floors below. It was, for some reason, a really wonderful feeling.
As for work...the day after I moved in, I got a call which led to, basically, an amazing job offer just falling into my lap. I am now a homeroom/English teacher at a prestigious private Buddhist school called Kobe Ryukoku Senior Junior High. The perks of the job include a decent salary (although nothing I'd call extravagant), a yearly bonus, 10 paid vacation days, and, get this, health insurance!! Besides that, the two campuses of the school are located in a gorgeous upper class neighborhood, which right now is full of blooming cherry blossom trees arching over adorable residential streets lined with beautiful houses, little bakeries, and like, five other schools (among them, a huge Catholic girls school that looks like a cathedral, complete with Mary-and-Baby-Jesus statue on the roof). The schools themselves are pretty gorgeous too (by Japanese standards). The high school campus overlooks the city of Kobe and the ocean. The rooms are bright and clean. There is a proper auditorium, complete with comfy seats, balcony seating, huge windows with views of the ocean on one side and the mountains on the other, and of course, a carved wooden statue of Buddha hidden behind sliding panels on the stage. The junior high campus's main building looks like a brand new library--bright, airy, modern, and minimal but comfortable. I hear that it is air conditioned in summer and heated in winter. Amazing.
As for the downsides...the main one I'm discovering now is that, well, this is a REAL job! On the one hand, I feel just amazed to be treated with the same respect given to any teacher...no longer am I just the "ALT" or "foreign assistant." But on the other hand, I have so many responsibilities and so much work now! There are several facets to my job. Of course, I have my homeroom duties. These include: (1) Meeting my homeroom students twice every day to make announcements, let them know that day's schedule, and do Buddhist prayer. (I even received my own Buddhist rosary beads and prayer book, but those are just for formal ceremonies.) (2) Reading my 39 student's journals EVERY DAY; (3) Keeping in touch with parents to let them know about their children's progress or any problems; (4) Weekly "homeroom hour" (I still don't know what this is for); (5) General counseling, guidance, and motivation. Next, I have my teaching duties, of course. This year, I'm assigned to teach 9 different lessons a week, which amount to 15 teaching hours. So I have a number of curricula and lessons to plan, as well as students' names to memorize. Moving on...I'm a member of two departments, the English department and the International Understanding department. Because of this, I have additional duties, like organizing practice sessions for STEP, SLEP, and other tests, offering guidance to exchange students at our school (either ones who come or ones who go), and planning special "international cultural events." And then, there are general "teacherly duties," like, get this, patrolling the area around Sannomiya after work to catch students hanging out. Yes, students are not allowed to just "hang out" as they please after school. They're supposed to go directly home. So, us teachers have to sign up for "patrol shifts," and go to the city to see if students are eating at McDonald's, or playing video games at arcades, window-shopping, or taking "purikura". We don't get paid extra for this, unless we catch someone, in which case we get 1,000yen per student. It's like police officers getting bonus money for catching speeders, only it's high school teachers, getting bonus money for catching errant students.
So that's my life these days, in a nutshell. Classes start after the weekend, so I've brought home my junior high textbooks so I can finish typing up curricula. I'm hoping that this won't be a regular thing, that my preparation now is contributing to more efficiency and less overtime in the future. But I think I'm being optimistic. I may have to put off photography classes for a while.
| | |
| Growing up, I always ate everything (stir-fried veggies, simmered fish, porkfat stew) with brown rice. My parents were die-hard health food nuts who opposed white rice, white bread, white sugar, and most cereals. As a result, we ate congee ("behh"--rising intonation--in Taiwanese) and fried rice made from brown rice, not the subtle-aroma-ed Chinese restaurant rice I loved. My mom even made sushi with the stuff, sometimes commenting on how much harder it was to roll up brown rice than sticky Japanese rice. Once I realized that other Chinese parents cooked white rice at home, and that this brown rice thing was not a Chinese thing, but a my-weird-parents-thing, I started feeling exasperated by my parents' stubbornness. Why not eat what other Chinese families ate, especially if it tasted better?
As a young adult, I of course never bought brown rice. It came to represent all the extreme, pointless restrictions that came with growing up under my parents, and what I perceived to be their unwillingness to compromise. However. After coming to Japan, the land where everyone eats and loves *only* white rice (Japanese white rice, to be specific), I started craving all the other rices that I couldn't (easily) get here: basmati, jasmine, wild long-grained, Chinese, Mexican, and eventually...brown rice ("genmai" in Japanese). I've started cooking it instead of Japanese white rice in my rice cooker lately, and find that I like the nuttier, richer flavor. A big tip for those who always have leftover rice: Wrap one-serving portions with plastic wrap, and freeze them! Frozen rice heats up nicely in the microwave, unlike refrigerated rice that ends up drier than before. Water to rice ratio: 1.5 to 2 parts water to 1 part brown rice.
I've also found that brown rice is a good substitute for morning oatmeal. Just heat up some milk or soymilk on the stove, add cooked brown rice (frozen portions are very convenient here! ), and simmer until the rice absorbs most of the milk. Add raisins, cinnamon, nutmeg, and brown sugar (or honey) at the end.
Or, you can follow this very similar recipe for brown rice pudding.
What I wouldn't do though for some basmati rice... Mmmmmm...
| | |
|
|
