tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-151054932024-03-07T22:56:49.672+09:00The Trail of TearsBringing "Culture" to the savage natives of a remote island nationLukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.comBlogger67125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-64116752370084913422008-02-23T11:16:00.014+09:002010-04-03T13:56:57.761+09:00miniT fever, catch it!<img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2porSvFCz-QOPgOsFiIEUM0acW2OATqm7Mk9c-WCPBej8T9Ktzcb9KPckTDNAYat4vANw7jrWdOa93IuqnwqnYpVsYKbUzhZ9inRAZ65FGepYWezKSdbM53zc2HF5m7i7AkdO/s320/mtkyokos.jpg" border="0" alt="Kyoko on stage" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255287931008499778" />While I was teaching in Hamamatsu, I sometimes tutored individual students after school, typically in English conversation or composition in preparation for entrance exams. One day, I was approached by a homeroom teacher and asked to help one of her students. This girl also wanted English conversation lessons, but not for school. No, this girl needed to learn English because she was planning on moving to the US to become a rock star. I thought that was audaciously wrongheaded, and immediately told the teacher to have the girl meet me that day after class.<br /><br />The girl that scuttled up to my desk that day was a second year named Kyoko that I had taught the year previously. Once I saw her I remembered her as the girl that did not speak or volunteer once in class the whole year only to suddenly deliver a flawless speech about her love of music for the final oral test.<br /><br />We walk downstairs, find an empty classroom, and start talking. I am trying to be as delicate as I can, since she looks to be in danger of wilting under my gaze and going into a swoon at any moment. I ask her why she wants to practice English, and sure enough, she lets out that she's on her way to the States and, presumably, future rock godhead. She confesses to me that she already sings and plays lead guitar in a band called "miniT" with her two girlfriends. Tentatively - since I'm so excited at the idea of a student having a dream larger than working in a company that I'm hesistant to crush it, however incredibly absurd it may be - I ask her a series of questions: Does she realize she can't just go and stay in the US? How does she plan on getting a visa? Where will she live? Where in the US does she want to go? She is troubled. She doesn't seem to have thought very hard about any of these things. But, of course, she's just a 15 year old girl; she doesn't have to. I leave that for the next time, and instead we talk about music for an hour or so and call it a day.<br /><br />We continue to meet at least twice a week after school each week. She becomes more comfortable talking to me - though never loses her nervousness completely, and, charmingly, always walks a step or so behind me while we walk downstairs to the classroom for each lesson, too self-conscious to walk together with me in front of other students. Gradually I convince her that the idea of just arriving in the US to instant stardom is a bit farfetched, but that if she's really serious about going, the easiest way is to go to college and then study abroad. That way, she'll be able to go on a student visa and see if she actually wants to live in the real country, not the US she holds in her mind pieced together from pop culture and popular prejudice. I point out that college is also a great place to meet other musically-inclined people, and if she wanted to form or join a band in the US that may be the easiest road. Finally, I make the obvious economic sale for college obliquely, asserting that realistically, only the most successful artists actually make enough money to survive on music alone, so she'll just have to do work of some kind. The difference is that as a college graduate she'll be able to do something easier and better-paid than waiting tables in between tours. I leaven these laudable yet leaden life lessons with lots of cds I burn for her from music on my computer. She proves receptive both to my advice and my musical taste.<br /><br />A few months later is the school festival, and miniT is headlining the concert portion in the gym. Kyoko's band is playing 3 covers of American pop punk hits (some Avril Lavigne songs) along with one original composition, called "Let's Diet", that Kyoko wrote in English and asked me to correct for her, which I did to the best of my ability. Meaning I did so with the aim in mind of <i>not</i> making it into idiomatic English, since it would then lose the charm of phrases that no native speaker would think of. She also asked me for the specific pronunciations of different words in the songs, and then came to me constantly in the days leading up to the festival to double check her pronunciation and make sure she hadn't gotten it mixed up in the interim between meetings with me. There's actually a video on YouTube of her band performing this song in concert, along with subtitles:<br /><br />miniT - "Let's Diet"<br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1yHEigkYtbI&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1yHEigkYtbI&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br />Needless to say, miniT was a big hit at the school festival. While I was pleasantly surprised by how capable and tight they performed their songs, I thought their problem was the material they were covering or being inspired by. Avril Lavigne and Hilary Duff aren't exactly fertile ground - in a musical sense, at least - and unlikely to inspire anything more than more cynical attempts to co-opt punk culture. What's strange or sad about Japan is that listening to Avril kind of would be punk there, since even American pop is quite hip compared to the insanely over-produced and under-performed sugar slurry of J-Pop. At least Avril songs have actual instruments in them.<br /><br />For comparison's sake, here's a song by SMAP, the most popular pop group in Japan for like the last decade, none of whose members can actually sing alone, let alone together:<br /><br />SMAP - "Sekai ni Hitsotsu dake no Hana" (The Only Flower in the World)<br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2nFvAq3sp80&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2nFvAq3sp80&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br />You'd think if you got 5 guys in a group together, you'd practice harmonizing, or at least, introduce the concept. But no.<br /><br />There's also Ayumi Hamasaki, the "Empress of Pop," who has sold 50 million records and had a #1 single every year for 10 years, but does not look or sing like a human being. Or Def Tech, this unbelievably terrible rap group that had a hit with this one song for what seemed like the duration of my time in the JET Programme:<br /><br />Def Tech - "My Way"<br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/NsL5MdvTDE4&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/NsL5MdvTDE4&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><i>Shudder...</i> I would often tell my students that if they didn't hate that song passionately they clearly needed to study more English to improve their listening comprehension.<br /><br />Anyway, my point was that in comparison to this kind of "music," Avril is pretty fantastic. But like I told Kyoko, considering she's playing her own guitar, writing songs, and performing without intense vocal modulation, she's already cooler than Avril, so she should aim a little higher. I give her cds by bands that might be a little more suited for her goals - like Sleater-Kinney, an all-girl rock group - along with bios of each of the bands. Later, she tells me which songs she liked on each album and we talk about why, which leads to more recommendations. One day, she tells me she really liked the Pixies album <u>Surfer Rosa</u>, and it occurs to me that the song "Gigantic" is actually one of the few songs on the album sung by the female bassist. I do a quick search online, find the guitar and bass tabs, print them out, and pass them along to Kyoko.<br /><br />Months later, after I've left the school and moved to Tokyo, I get a DVD in the mail with a note from Kyoko. She tells me the DVD is a recording of a recent concert in Hamamatsu, and I'm to specifically watch the part that starts about 9 minutes in.<br /><br />And there I find miniT performing "Gigantic" by the Pixies:<br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/iqtcKY3YJXw&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/iqtcKY3YJXw&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br />In her note, she apologizes for the poor performance, saying it was their first try at playing it live. She also tells me that she's studying hard now so she can attend college next year and be able to study abroad in the US. I'm hoping the next time I see Kyoko will be playing a gig somewhere in LA or NYC, and though I'd love to see her play the Pixies live, I'm looking forward more to seeing what she's been inspired to write on her own.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-70660534999413509212008-02-15T23:37:00.002+09:002008-03-02T22:08:27.250+09:00"Hey, sloth! Get up! Today is Valentine's Day!"Over the summer, a student of mine was in Santa Barbara for an exchange program for three weeks. I invited her and her friends down to my house for a weekend (actually, I invited <i>her</i> and she asked if she could bring <i>a</i> friend, a single friend that somehow became <i>2</i> friends, likely thanks to Japanese's lack of plural signifiers for nouns, which leads to students making a lot of mistakes when producing English sentences, though typically they do not lead to the production of additional human beings).<br /><br />I thought since Valentine's Day has just passed us by, I'd post the picture book she gave me that her older sister wrote and illustrated. I laughed until I cried as I read it and was yet inconsolable for some time afterwards. Her family apparently has some sort of strange obsession with sloths. They think they are adorable, despite the fact that the sloth is really one of the most singularly unattractive of animals in that kingdom. Of course, their depictions of sloths - which extend beyond drawings to actual miniature sloth dolls and even, in December, a Santa Sloth <i>wreath</i> - bear very little resemblance to the actual animal, so their image of the sloth is quite cute. I've scanned in pictures of the book and transcribed the dialogue below:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFOct9g5yxBr1mU-0llAKnbISkAuS75LlyA7C6B7o_qn18VX6sPm6rnurxEOtjDMrusX8rk0CiyC0ThY2M1mi59ZAPDLgLMJn2lnmQ60yXQz__jiMdNH9rIBihrNyQ3_2YGaeq/s1600-h/sloth01.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFOct9g5yxBr1mU-0llAKnbISkAuS75LlyA7C6B7o_qn18VX6sPm6rnurxEOtjDMrusX8rk0CiyC0ThY2M1mi59ZAPDLgLMJn2lnmQ60yXQz__jiMdNH9rIBihrNyQ3_2YGaeq/s200/sloth01.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173030224986268466" /></a>Boy: "Hey, sloth! Get up! Today is Valentine's Day!"<br />Sloth: "Good morning... Why are you so..."<br />Boy: "Oh, hurry up! Let's make a chocolate cake."<br /><i>A boy took sloth to kitchen.</i><br />Sloth: "Why do you want to make a cake?"<br />Boy: "Well... I want to give it to a woman who I love."<br />Sloth: "Wow! You are precocious."<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinSyyp0J9KNU3B54CmpH4E7zz9Blc1fBCDhoU1au3-8jBi4rFqK_rUaBwi61ibsgpR1Nsp0LHwKFzQIIeJ_FWABTqwKCIYpxLHhSQqXeSe-jk-YGTq6cOTKPqFsgnpPeKe2Tn8/s1600-h/sloth02.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinSyyp0J9KNU3B54CmpH4E7zz9Blc1fBCDhoU1au3-8jBi4rFqK_rUaBwi61ibsgpR1Nsp0LHwKFzQIIeJ_FWABTqwKCIYpxLHhSQqXeSe-jk-YGTq6cOTKPqFsgnpPeKe2Tn8/s200/sloth02.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173031543541228354" /></a><i>Then, they began to cook.<br />completion!</i><br />Sloth: "I'll taste the cake to see if it is sweet enough."<br />Boy: ...Wow... Yummy!!"<br />Sloth: "Really? Now, I'll taste it, too. ...Oh, yummy!"<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0IoquJWMoWXfTvWNg_cxfd_-4DdDWwOx-5nKK1gWtkPgKgyEVOiw9UHyYSK7SgPEJp9ynYVERYZINf6EFYXUTPh-t28gq28LNlI9eL0tmToJFELgHLHdvMGOxvUOdMkUZoJAD/s1600-h/sloth03.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0IoquJWMoWXfTvWNg_cxfd_-4DdDWwOx-5nKK1gWtkPgKgyEVOiw9UHyYSK7SgPEJp9ynYVERYZINf6EFYXUTPh-t28gq28LNlI9eL0tmToJFELgHLHdvMGOxvUOdMkUZoJAD/s200/sloth03.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173032638757888850" /></a><i>They kept eating the cake.<br />...so they left little cake.</i><br />? (both Sloth and Boy, perhaps): "Oh no!!"<br /><i>Mrs. Slow came there.</i><br />Mrs. Slow: "Hello. Are you making something sweet?"<br />"It smells good," she said.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3G9HGTr4xuxi5o_ahk0iB0c-X4pSu8JLsqcx4KlMJxjQUo4nNVDkMpTBist72ddoYYY3b5lfiOnWd-0JYdcwBIEl7b3_Awyx0s565oU143G_iX4NKDP2WZJxwtJG4A0nKGSWB/s1600-h/sloth04.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3G9HGTr4xuxi5o_ahk0iB0c-X4pSu8JLsqcx4KlMJxjQUo4nNVDkMpTBist72ddoYYY3b5lfiOnWd-0JYdcwBIEl7b3_Awyx0s565oU143G_iX4NKDP2WZJxwtJG4A0nKGSWB/s200/sloth04.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173033218578473826" /></a><i>The boy turn to red.</i><br />Boy: "Sorry... I want you to eat that... But..."<br />Sloth: "Mrs. Slow, would you like to eat this cake?"<br /><i>Sloth invited her to eat the cake.</i><br />Mrs. Slow: "Oh, please. Thank you."<br />Sloth: "Boy and me made this cake.<br />Boy said, 'Today is Valentine's Day. I'll give it to a woman who I love.' However, we tasted it too much."<br />Sloth: "Wow! Sloth! You shouldn't have told her it!"<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrqEcg81XnyNh4g_rM2kPNTptzoUgaqEwaSZjhSAkR48cbk041oW8-V3FTasUqQZMlnhgEHHFcIBh-2E1hPZqITS_yQ4pm6yMZbYTdqz2fXKo5b_qBasJ1d6PfUi93o0kQDEVG/s1600-h/sloth05.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrqEcg81XnyNh4g_rM2kPNTptzoUgaqEwaSZjhSAkR48cbk041oW8-V3FTasUqQZMlnhgEHHFcIBh-2E1hPZqITS_yQ4pm6yMZbYTdqz2fXKo5b_qBasJ1d6PfUi93o0kQDEVG/s200/sloth05.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173034215010886514" /></a><i>Mrs. Slow smiled.<br />And kissed the boy.</i><br />Mrs. Slow: "It's so sweet. Thank you."<br />Sloth felt, "Saint Valentine's Day is a very very sweet day."Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-32037455536588836082008-02-05T00:55:00.001+09:002008-11-12T16:41:52.324+09:00Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel (pt.2)This was actually written a while back, but I finally finished the last part so I could post it already.<br /><br /><a href="http://thetrailoftears.blogspot.com/2007/06/patriotism-is-last-refuge-of-scoundrel.html">Previously</a> I wrote about the Japanese national anthem "Kimi ga yo" and how its adoption as an anthem seems to stand at odds with the goal of a modern and democratic Japan.<br /><br />I was thinking about the song myself after one of the many school assemblies at which one is required to sing the song - where I typically moan along to the melody more than mouth the lyrics of the song itself (actually this is what I do with the school song too, since I don't know the words except for the last line where you say the name of the school, so it's just like "aaahhhhhh owwwwwaaaa ohhhhhhh ohhhhhaaaaaa ahhhhhhh...Hamamatsu Minami Koukou~"). I had English club later that day, so I asked a couple kids what they think about when they sing the anthem.<br /><br />Student A: "What do you mean?"<br />Me: "Well, considering what the song is about, how do you feel when you sing it?"<br />Student A: "What do you mean, 'what the song is about'?"<br />Me: "You know, since it's all about the Emperor."<br />(Turns to another student next to him)<br />Student A: "Wait, it's about the Emperor?!"<br />Student B: "Yeah...something like that."<br />Me: (Incredulously) "Are you seriously telling me you don't know what the song is about? You've been singing the song at every school event for the last 10 years!"<br />Student A: (Whining) "But I learned it when I was like in first grade, so I didn't know what it was about!"<br />Me: "Are you arguing you <i>still</i> have the mind of a first grader?"<br />Student A: "No, but..."<br />Me: "...you just have no concern for the words coming out of your mouth? Clearly."<br /><br />After this conversation - and telling the kid to go home and read a damn book - I decided I had to create a lesson about this topic for the next club meeting. At first I was simply going to talk about problems with the Japanese anthem, but I realized that direct censure of another person's culture typically does nothing but solidify opposition, even from those who might otherwise agree. People become defensive at the very idea of an American giving them a lecture, the boundaries between us harden, and the possibility for change or reconciliation approaches zero. Japanese people don't want to hear a lecture from an American any more than I want to hear one from some German on a train.<br /><br />So I thought of a more roundabout way of addressing the topic: I began club that day by playing "Kimi ga yo" on a stereo, then wrote up on the board and explained the definition of national anthem: "a patriotic song officially adopted by a country as an expression of national identity." Each student received a copy of both the Japanese lyrics for the Japanese anthem and their English translation. I adopted a Socratic method, asking students what the anthem was about, what sort of tone it has, what sort of feeling it invoked in them, and why this particular song might have been chosen as the national anthem to begin with. Then, I split students into pairs and distributed to each group two of the English translations of the lyrics of the national anthems of some 15 or so countries - Canada, China, England, France, Germany, India, Israel, Libya, Mexico, Norway, Palestine, The Philippines, South Africa, South Korea - without any country named affixed. I wrote the list of countries on the board and asked students to read the lyrics and try to guess which country their anthems came from.<br /><br />This proved to be far, <i>far</i> more difficult for them to figure out than I would have ever imagined. Of course, I thought some countries may have proved difficult - Norway or Switzerland, for example - but though I had removed the names of the countries themselves from both the title and anywhere it might have appeared in the song itself, some lyrics contained hints so glaring I worried some students might find the thing easy to the point of boredom.<br /><br />But my students really have a way of surprising you with their ignorance.<br /><br />One girl calls me over and laments that no matter how many times she reads her set of lyrics, she just cannot figure out what country it is. I myself don't have all the songs and countries memorized, of course, but I take one look at the page and point out the second line: "Let our flesh and blood become our new Great Wall!" I point at it and give her a significant look. She frowns and looks down - in embarrassment, I think, which fills me with a blend of satisfaction and relief - but then turns her head back to me again and says, "<i>e? wakaranai!</i>" (Wha? I don't get it!) I take a pen out of my pocket and underline the words "Great Wall" and raise my eyebrows at her. She stares at me blankly. It takes a few minutes more - during which I am reduced to pantomiming arriving at and climbing a large wall - for her to figure it out.<br /><br />Another student raises his hand and flags me down. He and his partner are completely baffled by one of their songs. I see which one it is and have to collect myself for a second because it is by far the easiest one. Here is the anthem that left these two kids stumped (where * is the name of the country appearing in the song):<br /><br />"O! Dispenser of *****'s destiny, thou art the ruler of the minds of all people<br />Thy name rouses the hearts of Punjab, Sindh, Gujarat, the Maratha country,<br />in the Dravida country, Utkala and Bengal;<br />It echoes in the hills of the Vindhyas and <b>Himalayas</b>,<br />it mingles in the rhapsodies of the pure waters of Jamuna and the <b>Ganges</b>.<br />They chant only thy name.<br />They seek only thy auspicious blessings.<br />They sing only the glory of thy victory.<br />The salvation of all people waits in thy hands,<br />O! Dispenser of *****'s destiny, thou art the ruler of the minds of all people<br />Victory to thee, Victory to thee,<br />Victory, Victory, Victory, Victory to thee."<br /><br />Can you guess the country? I've bolded the key words above, to help you out. If you were this particular boy, you would guess, "America?" And you would then be ruthlessly castigated by me regarding your disconcertingly imprecise knowledge of world geography ("The Himalayas are in America, huh? The Himalayas stretch across seven countries, but America is most certainly <span style="font-style:italic;">not</span> one of them. Are you even familiar with the <span style="font-style:italic;">continents</span> of the world?"). Incidentally, this is the same boy - Student A above - that didn't know the Japanese anthem was about the emperor. He's a straight-A student, as far as that goes.<br /><br />In the end, however painful the process proved to be, all the students were able to guess the anthems (many were aided greatly through the process of elimination). I then asked them to read over their anthems again and, as they did initially with the Japanese anthem, consider the tone of the songs, how they felt reading each, and think a bit about why these might have been chosen as a national anthem, in light of what they might know about the country in question.<br /><br />Each group then shared their opinions and thoughts about their assigned anthems. It became an interesting way to explore and fill gaps in their knowledge about the outside world (rather than simply ridicule or lament them, as I am wont to do). One group read the Palestinian anthem (an angry refusal to surrender a homeland) while another read the Israeli anthem (a paean of joy and relief at homecoming), which segued easily into a discussion of the seemingly intractable nature of the conflict. Several students remarked on the violence of some anthems, while others noticed the absence of such in others; typically this aligned quite well with the policy of the country in question. The last pair brought up the parts of the Filipino anthem - which took its current form after WWII - about resisting invaders, at which point I couldn't help but ask the students who that line might refer to. Many were shocked to consider that most Filipinos singing the anthem would be thinking about Japan when they come to that line.<br /><br />This last bit lead nicely back to my final point. I directed their attention once more to the definition of anthem written on the board: "a patriotic song officially adopted by a country as an expression of national identity." As I explained, the lyrics of national anthems are often inspired by specific points in a country's history - take the US anthem, which Francis Scott Key wrote after watching the bombardment of Ft. Henry by the British during the War of 1812. Sometimes, like in the case of the Japanese anthem, they are adopted from poetry or existing folk-songs. In that sense, anthems arise somewhat spontaneously as expressions of national feeling. However, they do not become the official national anthem spontaneously; it is a deliberate decision by the country's government. As the definition says, they are adopted as an "expression of national identity," and so their adoption can be viewed as one way of establishing or even creating an identity.<br /><br />That day I left the students with two questions: "Does "Kimi ga yo" express your national identity?" and " What does it mean that it was chosen to do so?"<br /><br />(Later, many replied on the English club blog with their reactions to that day's lesson. Some can be seen <a href="http://hamananenglish.blogspot.com/2007/05/national-anthems.html">here</a>, <a href="http://hamananenglish.blogspot.com/2007/05/norwegian-national-anthem.html">here</a>, and <a href="http://hamananenglish.blogspot.com/2007/05/we-talked-about-national-anthems-last_25.html">here</a>.)Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-7647516183875899352007-12-18T13:10:00.000+09:002008-01-16T03:09:11.933+09:00Art and Cheese steaks<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSSKpwJD6wjh9qlIVtpLJTZgWf4ks3RlhhI4ub4VgCCc26wVtsEadHFtzwO-v1L5htO3zIFhVuPizFIyB2WshorTIp_AfALhujQAkTyYFAIbXZCBcuokIHMEETVinE9mpolH8s/s1600-h/yamamura.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSSKpwJD6wjh9qlIVtpLJTZgWf4ks3RlhhI4ub4VgCCc26wVtsEadHFtzwO-v1L5htO3zIFhVuPizFIyB2WshorTIp_AfALhujQAkTyYFAIbXZCBcuokIHMEETVinE9mpolH8s/s200/yamamura.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155732176951889938" /></a>One of the teachers I worked with at Hamamatsu Minami paints in his free time. It often seemed like several of the teachers had quite interesting personal lives that they never revealed to students - or even other teachers; this teacher a painter, another a jazz guitarist, another the head of the Japanese fan club for a Korean actor (admittedly, I find that one less cool than amusing. Incidentally, these teachers that have something outside of work that gives their lives meaning seem to be both better teachers as well as more agreeable people in general). I only found out about this teacher's painting after asking him specifically about what he had done one weekend, and he admitted it only furtively. Later he told me he paints regularly and has exhibitions in the city, and his wife is artistic as well: a published poet!<br /><br />A couple weeks ago I received an invitation in the mail for an exhibition by his collective put on by the Tokyo Metropolitan Museum of Art, so I went to check it out. As it turns out, one of his three paintings won an award in the exhibition. I walked through and found all three, which were titled Expectation 1, 2, and 3, respectively. Frankly, I was shocked. The paintings are of a series that seem to be following the pregnancy of his wife (hence, "Expectation"), who had just recently given birth to a baby girl, their first child. This teacher is an unfailingly genial guy, and it often seems like there's a goofy kid stuck in that 40-year-old frame, and to be honest, I wasn't expecting such a naked (pun not intended) display of emotional depth. The light and color change across the series as the child in the woman grows, while images of chromosomes and a fetus are arranged in a sort of cosmic backdrop (Expectation 2 is the above picture, and Expectation can be seen <a href="http://www.geocities.jp/ygenart/expectation.htm">here</a>). I left the exhibit pleasantly surprised to see a new side of a friend, and with a renewed appreciation for how little others may reveal to us about their inner lives. (You can see a selection of his paintings <a href="http://www.geocities.jp/ygenart/index.htm">here</a>, at his personal site)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgudDGJyl5YLh2fg8eN1wo95uPtR8-ykdVbOsuIZ2bQnPx1aNCn2WCJFbH1Zmg3O86UDkoW1fqonxh5p4E4fiO8kcvTiY-ATHPzh5dTKmtWyRCzjc0beAISWCcIWZTeWVYz7ADB/s1600-h/philly01.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgudDGJyl5YLh2fg8eN1wo95uPtR8-ykdVbOsuIZ2bQnPx1aNCn2WCJFbH1Zmg3O86UDkoW1fqonxh5p4E4fiO8kcvTiY-ATHPzh5dTKmtWyRCzjc0beAISWCcIWZTeWVYz7ADB/s200/philly01.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155738292985319458" /></a>And as I left the exhibition, I noticed the showing in the main gallery: Masterpieces from the Philadelphia Museum of Art: Impressionism and Modern Art! This was surreal, since I had seen all these paintings about five years previously with my aunt, uncle, and cousin while visiting them in Philadelphia. To stumble upon them again in the middle of Tokyo was a treat.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7HZ3bDC6GQ5eMa48YCl8aWpC-UwZtoQfNBlIY5O4Dfx-4YLRGennsG2ZcXLfLEwehvO5zib61wCBlbMgECJYxAO3FQe5CdjfZAwzwijz0z7rO4Gz7__JGXLLkeWqaOyiab8Im/s1600-h/philly02.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7HZ3bDC6GQ5eMa48YCl8aWpC-UwZtoQfNBlIY5O4Dfx-4YLRGennsG2ZcXLfLEwehvO5zib61wCBlbMgECJYxAO3FQe5CdjfZAwzwijz0z7rO4Gz7__JGXLLkeWqaOyiab8Im/s200/philly02.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155743494190714930" /></a>And speaking of treats, this is what I found on my way outside the gates of the museum: Philly cheese steaks! A small van was parked right outside the entrance to the exhibit grilling up steaks for any takers, sponsored by the museum and thus, for all intents and purposes, an extension of the actual exhibit. A large poster alongside relayed the story of the steak for inquisitive Japanese minds: apparently it was developed by an Italian guy who sold hot dogs to taxi drivers in the 1930's. One day he tried thinly sliced meat along with grilled onions and cheese in a sandwich and the Philly Cheese Steak was born.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXxgnnHAwPp5XPbZrKQ8tU76LfFcfmI8Kv-uk501w1LNDC-LreOcBdUx6X8nqlbgDNvjSktr04yVHaYENu5UedLM_FrGIISa973vSGPuv0aSBxtIAR60KCA5rhLBlt4nwnf4Eq/s1600-h/philly03.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXxgnnHAwPp5XPbZrKQ8tU76LfFcfmI8Kv-uk501w1LNDC-LreOcBdUx6X8nqlbgDNvjSktr04yVHaYENu5UedLM_FrGIISa973vSGPuv0aSBxtIAR60KCA5rhLBlt4nwnf4Eq/s200/philly03.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155753222291640386" /></a>The last part of this surprisingly long and involved message on steaks - much longer and more prominent than the placards you might find regarding <i>paintings in the museum</i> - contains this final plea: "We sell these steaks to match the exhibit from the Philadelphia Museum of Art. The exquisite flavor combination of steak and cheese will call forth the spirit of Philadelphia to you, so please enjoy one in remembrance of your appreciation for the art here today."<br /><br />Apparently, you can't really appreciate art from Philadelphia without a giant Philly sandwich jammed down your gullet. And that's not just my opinion, that's coming right from the Tokyo Metropolitan Museum of Art.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-58524424466925018362007-11-14T00:26:00.000+09:002007-11-14T00:50:29.628+09:00The Enola GayRecently, an obituary was published in the New York Times for Brig. Gen. Paul W. Tibbets Jr., the commander and pilot of the plane that dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima. Naturally, this provoked another discussion of the morality of dropping the atomic bomb itself. Two extreme examples and a more moderate opinion can be summarized in the story in the link below:<br /><br />http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/11/02/blow-up/<br /><br />After reading this, I decided to write a reply, which I'll reproduce here:<br /><br />Many people like to argue that if Eisenhower himself thought the dropping of the nuclear bombs was unnecessary, dropping them couldn't have been necessary. He has, after all, been quoted as saying the war would have ended shortly afterwards, even without the nuclear bombs. However, he based this on the assumption that conventional bombing - i.e., the continued firebombing of Tokyo and other major cities - would continue. The firebombing of Tokyo had claimed more lives - perhaps a 100,000 people in one night - than any individual atomic bombing, and continued firebombing (of Tokyo, Nagoya, Osaka, and Kobe) would have no doubt killed more Japanese civilians than the two bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki (Incidentally, firebombing - the indiscriminate bombing of civilians as a part of a campaign of “total war” - has also been considered a kind of war crime).<br /><br />Eisenhower wasn’t naive enough to believe that the Japanese government, which had manifestly no interest in protecting the lives of individual citizens (since it considered them only important in their capacity to devote themselves to the Imperial house), could be expected to surrender based on the rational assessment that they could never win the war. The most reasonable politicians in Japan were able to make the assessment that they could never fully defeat the US before the war had even begun, and were simply hoping that the initial attack and advance of Japanese troops would succeed in just leading to a kind of truce wherein Japan would have free reign in Asia. But the militarists and the Emperor had beliefs about the strength of Japan and its inevitable victory unconstrained by any sort of rationality, and they were the ones to make the final decision about surrender. They believed that the Japanese would triumph based on superior spirit alone. And the only thing that made them reconsider surrender was the atomic bomb, since it was a weapon no amount of spirit could conquer.<br /><br />There’s no doubt that many people in Japan, citizens and some politicians alike, wanted the war to end. Ascribing the spirit of “bushido” to all the people in Japan is a bit ridiculous, and I wouldn’t argue that all the millions of citizens would really have voluntarily gone out with their sticks pointed at our soldiers. Unfortunately, they were not in any sort of position to influence the government, barring some sort of revolution - which would require the kind of popular uprising and resistance against the government unthinkable then (and now, really) in Japan. Those ordinary people would likely have been compelled to fight - as were the citizens in Okinawa - or if unwilling, to commit suicide, by the true believers. And some people, kids who had been sufficiently propagandized, for example, would have done it willingly (this I know directly from my friend, who was a teenager at the time, and though now an incredibly genial and bright old man who went to the best engineering university in Japan, confessed he was convinced his duty at the time was to fight Americans to the last with a spear).<br /><br />For me, living in Japan for the last few years, this has been a common topic. I’ve visited Hiroshima and wept at the pictures and exhibits in the Atomic Bomb Museum. As a high school teacher, it was impossible to look at the tattered remains of a schoolgirl’s uniform or a boy’s lunch box and not immediately connect this massive killing with the kids I knew and saw everyday. It’s much more difficult to try to justify the death of one person in that situation - not to mention thousands. But I feel like the decision to bomb Japan is a decision very difficult to take outside of the context of the world at that time. At the time, the US was convinced that Japan would simply refuse to surrender without a ground invasion. Plans were drawn up for the invasion, and hundreds of thousands on both sides expected to die. Our knowledge of Japan came from the words of the Japanese government, which promised a “hundred million bamboo spears” awaiting us. Having seen the kamikaze and the defense of Iwojima, we could believe them. Inside the country itself, the military and the Emperor were intent on continuing the war. The military wanted to fight until the end. The Emperor, though recognizing the impossibility of absolute victory, had rejected demands for surrender, as he was determined to wrest a promise from the Allies of protected sovereignty. Obviously, this was not something the Allies were willing to offer (would we have offered to allow Hitler to remain in power?). There may have been widespread discontent in the citizenry and in parts of the government, but not any from the people who actually would determine the country’s policy.<br /><br />The decision was therefore made to drop the bombs. The bombs were dropped, the rational Japanese were able to convince the militarists to give up (though, as noted above, some still attempted to stage an uprising and take control of the Imperial palace), and the war came to an end. The bombs were a terrible thing to do to another country, but in a terrible time, a justifiable decision. With the belief that hundreds of thousands of Americans would have died, it was justifiable. It could also be justified to argue that millions of Japanese would have died. To argue that the atomic bombing may not have been necessary because the Soviet Union would enter Japan, or that conventional bombing would have eventually forced them to give up, or that unseen political turmoil in Japan would have rendered the bombing unnecessary, is analysis after the fact, and not information available at the time. To appeal to the rationality of Japan is to apply the current situation of modern democratic Japan or a peaceful world to a time and place that was neither democratic nor peaceful. People in Japan often seem to talk about the atomic bombings as though they just appeared out of nowhere, rather than as the final part of a long world war, for which Japan bore a large responsibility. That’s not to say that Pearl Harbor justified doing anything we wanted, but that the bombing should not be taken out of the context of the greater war. Terrible decisions had to be made in terrible times.<br /><br />For me, it’s much more instructive to think about how the war started, and how it became so easy for us to kill each other. Neither side had a clear sense of the other as a similar human being before the war, and this was only further bolstered by the wartime propaganda necessary to make killing easier. Belief in Japan in the innate racial purity and superiority of Japanese made it possible to do terrible and insane things, and contributed to the refusal to acknowledge defeat. The breakdown of democracy as it existed in Taisho period Japan and the investment of all national power in the military and the Emperor was something that could not have happened without the involvement, or at least, inaction of the Japanese populace. Could Japan have attacked so easily if it were a true democracy at the time? Could we have so easily firebombed Tokyo and Dresden if we hadn’t vilified the people of both countries? Why are we able to be so cavalier about the deaths of thousands of people from bombing? These are the types of questions that are extraordinarily relevant, and we’re likely to learn a lot more and prevent similar tragedies in the future by thinking about why it all happened then second-guessing the past.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-90615346155817580232007-09-01T15:43:00.000+09:002007-09-01T15:49:00.801+09:00My farewell speechI moved to Tokyo last month and still haven't gotten Internet service at my apartment set up yet, so updating the blog has been impossible. Right now, I'm just stealing access from the Apple store in Shibuya, so I don't really have the time to write anything, but I thought I'd post a copy of the farewell speech I gave in Japanese on my last day at school. The Japanese is followed by my English translation section by section, but the translation may read strangely in some places because the speech itself was written in Japanese (that is, not written by me in English then translated into Japanese, but from the beginning conceived in and written in Japanese). I promise it's a much better speech in the original. Later, once I have my Internet set up, I'll write more about the reception my speech received and the whole experience of leaving the school. Anyways, here it is:<br /><br /><br /><br />皆さんは、「アメリカ人」と言う言葉を聞くと、どんなことを考えますか。無意識に、どんな言葉が出てきますか。 背が高い?白人?目が青い?個性が強い?思いやりがない?<br />When you hear the word “American”, what do you think of? What kinds of words come to mind unconsciously? Tall? White? Blue-eyed? Strong individuality? Lacking consideration for others?<br /><br />あるいは、アメリカ人は、「日本人」と言う言葉を聞くと、何を想像するでしょうか。反射的にどんな言葉が出てくるでしょうか。背が低い?個性が弱い?思いやりがある?<br />When Americans hear the word “Japanese”, what do you suppose they think of? What kinds of words do you think come to mind for them reflexively? Short? Weak individuality? Considerate?<br /><br />今の質問で、アメリカ人との違いについては考えましたね。と言うのは、「アメリカ人」と「日本人」という言葉は自分たちのグループと他のグループとの違うイメージをそれぞれが持っているからです。これはたいした問題ではないと思っている人がいるかもしれないですが、この違うイメージから、相手が違う人間と考えるようになる可能性があります。それで相手の人間性を忘れてしまう危険があります。<br />When you were asked this question, you thought about the differences between yourselves and Americans, right? This is because the words “American” and “Japanese” carry within them the image of the other group as different. There are likely those that don’t find this too important a point, but from these images of another group as different, there emerges the possibility of coming to think of the other group as a different kind of human beings. And with that, there is the danger of forgetting the humanity of the other group entirely. <br /><br />毎日南校に行っていた私は、最初から毎日 一日中生徒とふれあってきました。しかし、学校に来たばかりの時に、皆さんはただ「Hello!」と言ってから、笑いながら向こうに走って行きました。 授業中に、私がいる生徒たちにじろじろ見られることが多かったです。ある時に、私は一人の生徒に英語の言葉の説明していた間に、その生徒は私が言っていたのを聞く代わりに、 あっけに取られたような表情で、その子は自分の子犬のように腕をなでて、「すごい。。。ゴールド!」と 言いました。<br />Coming to school every day, from the beginning I was interacting with you students all day. However, when I first started at school, everyone would just yelp, “Hello!” at me and then run off in the other direction, giggling. In class, you guys often just stared at me. One time, while I was explaining the meaning of an English word to a student, rather than listen to what I was saying, she got this wide-eyed look to her and started petting my arm like I was her dog. “Wow…” she gasped, “It’s gold…”<br /><br />また別の日に、私はその日の活動を説明してから、その前にずっと私が言っていたことに集中したような生徒に「Do you understand?」と聞いてみて、その子は「アダムス先生の目がちょう〜青いね」と答えました。たしかに、よくほめてくれましたが、私が言っていることよりも、皆さんは私の腕の毛や目の色の方に興味があったようでした。あの二学期にはじめて挨拶として「でっかい!」と言われた経験もありました。あの時、私は生徒たちから見ると、人間じゃなくて、かわいくて、エキゾチックなパンダとして見られていたと思いました。<br />Another day, after I had explained the activity we’d be doing in class that day, I tried asking a student in front of the class, “Do you understand?” since she looked like she had been totally focused on what I was saying before. She answered, in a dreamy voice, “Adamusu-Sensei no me ga cho aoi ne…” or, in English, “Mr. Adams, your eyes are so blue…” Certainly, it was nice to be complimented so often, but it seemed like everyone was far more interested in my arm hair or eye color than in anything I might be saying. That term was also the first time I’ve ever had “Dekkai!” (“huge!”) used towards me as a greeting. At that time, I think from the students’ perspective, I wasn’t a human being so much as a cute and exotic panda.<br /><br />でもだんだん見慣れてくると、普通に対話できるようになりました。朝皆さんが「Good morning Mr. Adams!」と言って、「Good morning!」と私が答えました。昼休みにしゃべったり、冗談を言って笑ったり、一緒にバスケットボールやテニスをしたりしていました。学校が終ったら、家庭教師として英会話を教えて、英語部の担当者として英語部の子たちと特に仲よくなりました。パンダから人間に変身したようです。<br />But gradually everyone got used to seeing me, and we became able to have normal conversations. In the morning, you all now said, “Good morning Mr. Adams!” and I answered, “Good morning!” We chatted during lunch break, told jokes and laughed, and even played tennis and basketball together. When school ended, I tutored kids in English conversation, and, as supervisor of the English club, became particularly close to club members. It seems I had transformed from a panda into a human being.<br />ほんの65年前には、私と生徒のような若者は敵でお互い殺し合いをしていました。去年広島を訪ねた時に、どうやって人間がこんなにひどいことができたかと思いましたが、あの時に、アメリカ人が「日本人」を聞くと、神風、腹切り、ナンキン、1億の竹槍などを考えていたでしょう。あるいは、あの時の日本人が「アメリカ人」を聞くと、鬼畜米英、などを考えていたでしょう。一般的なルールとして、他の人間を殺すことは無理なはずですが、双方とも相手が同じ人間だとは思っていませんでした。だからこそ、人間を殺すことができるようになっていたのです。 人間性を失っていたということです。<br />Only 65 years ago, young people you and I would have been enemies in a war trying to kill each other. When I visited Hiroshima last year, I thought about this and wondered how it was that we were able to do such horrible things to other human beings. I suppose when the Americans of that time heard the word “Japanese” they thought of words like kamikaze, hara kiri, the Rape of Nanking, or the “hundred million bamboo spears” reportedly waiting for us on the Japanese mainland in the hands of every single, fanatical Japanese person, all willing to fight to the death. Likewise, when the Japanese at that time heard the word “American” they probably thought of words like kichikubeiei, (“British and American Devils”). As a general rule, it’s impossible for us to kill another human being. But we didn’t consider each other human beings. As a result, it became possible to kill each other. This process is known as dehumanization.<br /><br />もちろん、あの時は戦争のプロパガンダのせいでしたが、なぜ国民があのプロパガンダを信じていたかと聞くと、多分相手と会ったことがなくて、 相手の具体的なイメージがないと、相手がすごく曖昧なものになってしまったのでしょう。相手の人間性を忘れてしまったと思います。 今も私たちにとって 同じ理由によって、今アフリカのダルフルで苦しんでいる人はただの新聞に出る記事にすぎない存在ですよね。あの人たちの具体的なイメージを持っていない私たちから見ると、あんな人たちはただの言葉の世界の存在で、あの人たちの死は数字としたしか考えられません。<br />Of course, at that time it was the result of wartime propaganda, but why were we all so susceptible to propaganda? It’s likely we’d never met anyone from the other group, and, unable to form a concrete image of the other, they became a very amorphous thing. And we forgot their humanity. In our lives today we can see the same attitude manifesting itself for the same reasons with the suffering of people in places like Darfur in Africa, a people who exist for most of us purely as articles that appear in newspapers from time to time. Lacking any concrete image of them, they exist only in the world of words for us, and their deaths are just numbers.<br /><br />だからこそ、私にとって、このジェットプログラムは素晴らしいものだと思います。もちろん、英語を勉強することは入学試験のために大事ですが、皆さんも私もお互いの人間性を分かるようになることの方が大切な目標だと思います。これから、皆さんがもし「アメリカ人」という言葉を聞くと、「ああ、アダムス先生だね」と思い浮かべるからです。私の具体的なイメージを持っているから、アメリカ人の人間性を忘れることがないと思います。それに、アメリカ人だけではなくて、これからすべての外国人に対してもっと人間として見るという姿勢を持ってもらいたいと思います。一歩一歩、国際化と相手に対する理解は進歩していると思います。今ここにいる学生と先生たちが一緒に一歩一歩進んでいると思います。<br />It’s for this reason that I think the JET Program is such a great thing. Obviously, it’s important for helping students study English for their entrance exams, but I think the more vital goal is allowing us to understand one another’s humanity. Because from now on, when you all hear the word “American,” you’ll think, “Oh, Adams-Sensei!” Because you have a concrete image of me in your mind, you won’t lose sight of the humanity behind the word “American.” And I hope this isn’t just for Americans, but that you adopt this attitude towards all of the foreigners you meet in the future. Internationalization and human understanding towards the Other will move forward like this, step by step. I think all of us here today – students and teachers – are walking on this path forward together.<br /><br />進むという言葉を聞くと、受験生の皆さんは進学ということを思い浮かべるでしょう。それに対して、今日のスピーチで言いたいことはもう一件があります。<br />To the third year students preparing for exams, when you hear me talk about “a path forward,” it probably makes you think about going on to university, right? Well, I have one thing to say about that too.<br /><br />「私は早稲田で勉強した」と言ったら、「すごい!」とよく言われました。皆さんにも言われました。一方で、アメリカでも、”I went to UCLA”と言ったら、”Wow!”とよく言われました。たしかに、両方はエリートな大学です。たとえば、UCLAでノーベウル賞受賞者の教授がたくさんがいたので、ものすごく面白い授業があります。そして、素晴らしいUCLAの図書館でどんな本でもあります。それに、一緒に勉強している仲間は多様で、やる気がある人ばかりです。しかし、私から見ると、早稲田やUCLAのようなイリートな大学に入れるのはそんなに偉いことではない。もちろん、入学試験を合格するのは難しいですが、入れることよりも、入ってから何をするか、何を習うか、何をできるようになるか、ということの方が大事だと思うからです。UCLAのようないい大学に入ったら、偉いことができるようになる可能性があるかもしれませんが、機会を利用しないと意味がないと思います。<br />When I tell people I studied at Waseda University, people often say to me, “Sugoi!” (Amazing!) Many of you also said the same. Similarly, when I tell people in the US that I went to UCLA, they too often say to me, “Wow!” Certainly, both are elite universities. At UCLA, there are many great professors – several even are Nobel Laureates – so there are very interesting classes. And, you can find any book you’d ever want to read in the fantastic UCLA libraries. Your peers at the school are very diverse and motivated students all. However, from my perspective, getting into elite schools like Waseda or UCLA isn’t so impressive. Of course, it’s difficult to gain acceptance to the schools, but I think it’s much more important what you do after you get in. What do you study? What do you become able to do? If you get into a good school like UCLA, you may have the potential to do great things, but if you don’t take advantage of the opportunity, just getting into the school is meaningless.<br /><br />というのは、皆さんはほとんどやる気があって、頭が良くて、頑張っている生徒たちだと思います。よく先生たちにも両親にもそう言われているでしょう。そして多くの人はいい大学に進学するでしょう。しかし、私にとって、大学試験に合格するのはまるで隠し芸を披露するようなものです。その意欲や頭の良さを実演しているだけからです。大学試験に合格したとしても、人としてなにを理解してもらえますか。東大に入れば、すぐに偉い人に変身しますか。最終的に、意味がありますか。<br />I think most of you here today are motivated, intelligent, and hardworking students. I’m sure you’re often told similar things by your teachers and parents. It’s likely many of you will go on to study at good universities. However, to me, passing the university examinations is nothing but a kind of parlor trick. It’s simply a performance showing off your basic intelligence and drive. What can you really comprehend about a person just from knowing they passed a university examination? When someone enters Tokyo University, do they immediately transform into a great person? In the end, does it really mean anything?<br /><br />すごいと言われるためには、何かを成し遂げなければならないと思います。今、私はまだすごいと思わないので、そう言われると恥ずかしいです。皆さんも、誰かにそう言われると恥ずかしいと思うべきだと思います。<br />I think to be called, “sugoi” you must actually accomplish something. Because I don’t feel like I’ve done anything amazing, when people say this to me I become rather embarrassed. I think you all should also feel embarrassed if someone says “sugoi” to you.<br /><br />すごいかすごくないかを決めるのは、大学に入ってから、どのように成長するかとか個人としてどうやって進歩するかだと思います。だから、試験の合格は目的としないでください。合格はチャンスだけです。合格は皆さんの将来の一歩だけです。<br />I think whether you’re really sugoi or not should be something based on your growth as a person or how you’ve progressed as an individual. Therefore, don’t take passing the examinations as your goal. Passing just gives you a chance. Passing is just the first step towards your future.<br /><br />来月から、私は東京で翻訳家として働きます。日本語がもっとぺらぺらになりたいので、仕事は勉強になるといいなと思って、この仕事を決めました。その後に、私の夢は外交官になることです。外交官になれたら、将来に皆にすごいと言われることをやってみたいですが、今は一歩一歩、 謙虚で頑張ります。皆さんも高校で、大学で、勉強してください。手に入るチャンスを利用してください。 本当にすごいと人から思われる将来を目指して、 一歩一歩、頑張っていってください。そして、そのあなたがたのすごい将来にまた会いたいと思います。<br />From next month, I’ll be working in Tokyo as a translator. I chose the job because I wanted to become more fluent in Japanese and I figured I could study while I worked. After that, my dream is to become a diplomat. If I can become a diplomat, I would like to try to do things in the future worth of being called sugoi, but in the meantime, I’m trying to do my best with humility, step by step. All of you, please keep studying at high school and college. Take advantage of the chances you are given. Aim at a future in which you could be thought of as sugoi, and do your best, step by step. I hope I can meet you again in that sugoi future we have made.<br /><br />ありがとうございました。<br />Thank you very much.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-32642219910529524012007-06-07T21:56:00.000+09:002007-07-27T08:01:41.792+09:00Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrelThe Japanese national anthem is called "Kimigayo," or "Imperial Reign." Click <a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/5e/Kimigayo60.mid"target="_blank">here</a> to listen to it.<br /><br />Now, what jumps out at you first has to be the brevity; the song is mercifully short. And there are none of the hystrionics of the US anthem, what with "bursting in air" or "land of the free" being dragged out to a minute each of awful caterwauling. No, this song takes less than a minute. The tune itself is actually rather stirring, and, dare I say it, Japanesey.<br /><br />The lyrics, on the other hand, are a bit different. Taken from an anonymous poem from the Kokinshu, a poetry anthology from the early 10th century, they run as follows:<br /><br /><i>Kimi ga yo wa<br />Chiyo ni<br />Yachiyo ni<br />Sazare ishi no<br />Iwao to narite<br />Koke no musu made</i><br /><br />May your Imperial reign<br />Continue for a thousand years,<br />And last for eight thousand generations,<br />Until pebbles<br />Turn into boulders<br />Covered in moss.<br /><br />So, the poem is a paean to the Emperor. And it's <i>only</i> about the Emperor; there's no mention of Japanese people, the Japanese government, or Japanese culture, which is a problem insofar as you consider those things maintaining an existence outside the Emperor, I suppose. It was chosen as the national anthem in the late 1800's, when Japan was in a desperate rush to catch up to the modernized Western nations. Interestingly, part of the reason for the choice of this poem was its resemblance to the English national anthem, "God Save the Queen"; it was an attempt to gain legitimacy as a nation by mimicking one of the major powers.<br /><br />Of course, that was more than a 100 years ago, and the paths of the two sovereigns in question have been rather different:<br /><br />During the war, the King and the future queen, lacking any real power, simply put their efforts into raising the spirits of a country under attack. Today, the Queen is just some rich old woman. If she's a symbol of anything, it's of the former glory of an Empire that no longer exists. <br /><br />The Emperor - specifically, Hirohito - was the figure behind which the Japanese attempted to conquer much of Asia. His divine status is what gave Japanese soldiers the right to rape the inferior people of Korea and China. Eternal allegiance to him was the rallying cry of men leading suicide charges or flying their planes into ships. His refusal to surrender prolonged the war and allowed hundreds of thousands of his own citizens to die needlessly. Basically, he bears a large burden of responsibility for a war that devasted every part of Japanese society - a responsibility that neither he nor the government ever acknowledged. He remains a potent symbol, both inside and outside Japan, of that past.<br /><br />Clearly, there is a difference now in singing a song of praise for the Emperor.<br /><br />But this is their anthem. It's sung at ball games and at the Olympics. It's sung at every school function. In fact, it's not just sung, it's often <i>required</i> to be sung at school functions. Interestingly enough, the national anthem - along with the hinomaru flag - was not officially granted that status until set down in a law in 1999; a response to a case in which a principal, sandwiched between the protests of teachers who refused to sing the anthem at a graduation ceremony and the demands from the Ministry of Education to force them to comply, ultimately committed suicide. Teachers in Tokyo that refuse to stand to sing the song due to its association with the Emperor and Japan's militarism - history teachers, I would hope - have actually lost their jobs on this account. Apparently, since 2003, 401 teachers have been punished for refusing to take part in anthem-related events. Recently, the Tokyo District Court ordered the Tokyo Board of Education to pay damages for any teachers reprimanded for their refusal to sing the anthem, but the Board maintains that, schools being governmental agencies, teachers have a responsibility to teach their students how to be good citizens.<br /><br />Which raises the question, is loyalty to the Emperor what constitutes a good citizen?<br /><br />Next time: what Japanese people think - or don't - when singing the anthem.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-13660506051769811502007-05-28T20:52:00.000+09:002007-05-28T21:23:49.908+09:00Irrational Women<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIjZDy8iETLs7drE_MVicNc5b-j7tfM_FMQ9vH1CaPUUM0Rwnku6SNcn0Izm8ecmdIjndB9maCl5JInTE0ahUxiaI3HbSIzIOHgN2lTkuQvH5f0R1l_GSDCXcXGqYrRvXZMG_V/s1600-h/DVC00001.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIjZDy8iETLs7drE_MVicNc5b-j7tfM_FMQ9vH1CaPUUM0Rwnku6SNcn0Izm8ecmdIjndB9maCl5JInTE0ahUxiaI3HbSIzIOHgN2lTkuQvH5f0R1l_GSDCXcXGqYrRvXZMG_V/s320/DVC00001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064725338597679826" /></a><br />While walking around helping students today in my third year writing class, a boy grabbed my arm and asked me to explain a sentence from a reading sample in his textbook. I stopped, leaned in and took a look at the sentence he was pointing at:<br /><br />"It is a mistake for him to use cold reasoning to overcome anything which he cannot understand in his wife."<br /><br />I did a double-take, and went back and read the entire passage. Then I laughed quite hard, and the boy ended up learning a new word: sexism.<br /><br />Take a look at the essay the kids in this 3rd year writing class - along with all the other 400 students in their grade, not to mention how many other schools who happen to use the same text - are reading. It's reprinted in the book after appearing on an entrance exam for Tohoku University; there's no further information to know to whom to give credit for these pearls of wisdom. To me, it sounds like something they took out of an issue of Good Housekeeping from the 50's, or some chapter on marriage from a very old life-education textbook, but it could very well have been invented out of whole cloth. What's perhaps even more amusing than the students at my school and others studying this passage, is that since it appeared on an entrance exam, past students were actually tested on this; every applicant to Tohoku that year would have had to read and answer questions on this in order to pass the exam. To take that concept a little farther: current students of Tohoku University have all certified their comprehension and assimilation of the ideas contained in this passage by very virtue of being students at the university.<br /><br />And people in the US complain about biases in SAT questions!<br /><br />Anyhow, it's good to see that students studying English here are being given entirely new ways to see the world (and women's proper place in it), and being equipped with the language abilities necessary to really succeed in the future (at putting women in that place).Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-59272171337404005542007-05-27T01:43:00.000+09:002007-05-27T23:24:28.481+09:00KMK's GF LOLA question I often get - as "often" as I get questions about the blog - is whether anyone at my school reads the blog; I guess readers wonder whether I'm worried about anyone getting upset, considering the amount of detail and commentary I provide on students and teachers. Typically, I laugh this off, because even if they found the site, I can't imagine this ever being an issue. I'd be incredibly surprised if anyone at the school - student or teacher - has the English ability or general wherewithal to actually read anything I write. After all, very few <i>native</i> speakers have the stamina to get through a whole bloated post in one sitting.<br /><br />But, it turns out that at least one student has read the blog. You might remember KMK, a much-doted on student of mine from the English club. I'm pretty sure I've <a href="http://thetrailoftears.blogspot.com/2006/01/def-tech-sound-shen-and-micro-round.html">mentioned him</a> several times before.<br /><br />I had mentioned this fact to him as well, that I was writing a blog on which he had appeared. The thing is though, now that my students are also writing a blog that I also belong to, it only takes one click on my name on the student blog for them to find my site. So, KMK came up to me last club meeting to tell me he had been reading the blog. Specifically one part. With his girlfriend. He was a bit shocked. <br /><br />He was showing the English club blog to his girlfriend one day, and I guess they clicked right through to my blog. And they started reading <a href="http://thetrailoftears.blogspot.com/2006/06/sublime-of-english.html">this post</a> about the school festival last year. I talk about the time Matt came to visit the school during the festival, and KMK gave the two of us a tour. It's this description in particular of part of the tour that caught their interest:<br /><br /><i><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/htsaikmkharems.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/htsaikmkharems.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Here is KMK and his harem. KMK actually has a girlfriend in the second year, but since I don't think she's good enough for him, Matt and I kept needling him about going after this first year girl on the right. As the girls here were in the cooking club, Matt played up that angle, while I convinced KMK that this girl had an elegant, rare "old Japan"- type of beauty. He went red and gesticulated in an even wilder fashion - if that can be believed.</i><br /><br />Needless to say, KMK's girlfriend was not happy to hear this story, despite it being almost a year old, and he caught some flak for something I wrote. He didn't seem particularly bothered by it, just kind of exasperated. I was, of course, amused, and not at all repentant. I told him I still held to what I had said and written last year, and I explained the American high school custom I'll call "going down a grade to trade up a grade": boys dating younger, prettier girls of the type that might be unattainable to them in their own grade. I told him it's his senior year, and time to start taking advantage of that while he still can. Maybe he'll listen to me before he heads off to college and has to start at the bottom of the totem pole again.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-37426004710801931302007-05-15T19:06:00.000+09:002007-06-02T17:31:46.455+09:00Good Children = Good Drinkers<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZVjq8VEIiRDQD7ZzgVGiHGiPhffQyukvuZsR6mtZ0svejQTTRIXL0h_ElMozzeYWWOBIuEKcQYi5iFpFRNGR3T_Ag6zBETiCtiJ4L0BZ3H1jHN74DYrmE9iwRztA8jgKIhQh/s1600-h/DVC00001_2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZVjq8VEIiRDQD7ZzgVGiHGiPhffQyukvuZsR6mtZ0svejQTTRIXL0h_ElMozzeYWWOBIuEKcQYi5iFpFRNGR3T_Ag6zBETiCtiJ4L0BZ3H1jHN74DYrmE9iwRztA8jgKIhQh/s320/DVC00001_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064731287127384802" /></a><br />I took this picture the other day at Toys 'R' Us, or, as it's pronounced here, <i>toizarasu</i>. They were selling it at the checkout counter. It's a beer for kids.<br /><br />I had read about this before, but had kind of taken it as one of those stories - typically, the only type of story ever written by foreign papers about Japan - on some bizarre trend now sweeping the country. I really think the media has special correspondents assigned specifically to find and report on any quirky things popping up here. It goes like this: some fad has reportedly caught on in Tokyo and is speading far and wide across the land- except, no Japanese person I know has ever even heard of the fad in question (two examples I can think of offhand are the "Japanese bathing suits" and <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=6395245">"Tokyo oxygen bar"</a> stories). Regardless, we are all thankful for the opportunity to stop and have a cheap laugh at the silly people across the sea. Imagine the kind of insane articles we could write about the US if we applied these kinds of ridiculous journalistic standard to ourselves.<br /><br />So, when I first read about this - a beer made for and marketed to children - I took it with a grain of salt, but I stand corrected. Because they really are selling a beer made especially for children (or, at least, it's <i>for</i> sale; it didn't seem to be flying off the shelves). In a <i>toy</i> store, no less.<br /><br />It's called <i>Yoiko no Biiru</i>, or "Good Children's Beer." At the top in red is, presumably, the slogan: "Good Children's Beer: The Beer that Good Children Drink." It is also described (in yellow) as, "A beer-like fermented beverage." Sounds tasty, huh?<br /> <br />Anyhow, the toddler pictured on the label certainly seems to be enjoying his frothy cold one. He's emitting a contented sigh; looking forward to knocking one back at the end of a long day of crawling around and putting things in his mouth.<br /><br />Parents in this hyper-competitive society are always trying to give their children a head start. Even when it comes to alcoholism, I suppose. A big part of job success here <i>is</i> drinking after work with your superiors, so it's never too early to get a leg up on your (future) co-workers.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-58572239108754812632007-05-13T18:03:00.001+09:002010-04-04T03:00:49.792+09:00Graduation Ceremonies as Cultural Rosetta Stones<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6qVY4r-a0aEL_ajSXnuv_ap4KrxtAE0Zast_MQcGZpvbD2DPC8PtOHrHEKblR3grNn43z5dCwsr-ZQ59MjNP_bgHtWA6Wg1P2oJnQRMAL3jwyAUqcR4zn9ZgJx0hL4HIvg_O4/s1600-h/gradspeech.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6qVY4r-a0aEL_ajSXnuv_ap4KrxtAE0Zast_MQcGZpvbD2DPC8PtOHrHEKblR3grNn43z5dCwsr-ZQ59MjNP_bgHtWA6Wg1P2oJnQRMAL3jwyAUqcR4zn9ZgJx0hL4HIvg_O4/s320/gradspeech.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038040579982880466" /></a>The first Thursday of March was the graduation ceremony for the third year students at my school (The school year here starts in April and ends in March, with finals being held a few days before the ceremony. Strangely, school itself continues for a couple more weeks, though grades are already due, meaning students and teachers keep to coming classes even though we really can't introduce any new material). <br /><br />Though the various formal ceremonies in the Japanese school system that I am required to attend are invariably tedious, they do offer me opportunities to see the core of the school experience here. High school graduation being the most important ceremony commemorating the most important event of that school experience, the ceremony is a crystallization of the motive and method of that schooling. I'll give you a summary of aspects of the ceremony, then I'll attempt a bit of interpretation for each. <br /><br />The graduation is held in the gym. The front chairs are arrayed for graduating students; behind the students is a gallery for parents; behind that is one for current second years. The parent gallery is filled - with the exception of perhaps four members, to be generous - exclusively with mothers. To the sides of the stage are two sections: the one on the right of the stage from the audience's perspective is for teachers, with members further divided into camps of senior administrators, third year teachers, and remaining teachers. There is also a microphone set up for announcements behind a small podium, with one teacher who serves as Master of Ceremonies sitting at a folding chair behind it. On the left of the stage are visiting VIP's; PTA Presidents, Superintendents, retired teachers or administrators. Behind all the audience, in the second-floor rafters, is the school band.<br /><br />In the center of the stage is a podium, behind which are the national and prefectural flags, to the right of which is the school emblem. Slightly off to the right and above the stage is a plaque that gives the order of events for the assembly. <br /><br />It reads: <br />1. Opening address<br />2. Singing of the National Anthem<br />3. Awarding of Diplomas<br />4. Address from the principal<br />5. Address from visiting VIP<br />6. Farewell address<br />7. Sending off address<br />8. Singing of the school song<br />9. Closing address<br /><br />The most glaring difference to me was of course the absence of fathers at the ceremony. I remarked on this to another teacher, and she informed me that each student is allotted only one seat for a visitor, explaining that the gym wasn’t large enough to hold more than that. This sounded reasonable, except that the gym apparently was large enough to accommodate the entire class of second-year students. So, apparently it’s more important that the second-year students attend the ceremony than the parents of the students actually graduating.<br /><br />Along with other teachers who have put off entering until the last possible second, I enter the gym and take a seat near the front in order to easily take pictures. Teachers chat in muffled tones. Everyone is wearing a suit, even the P.E. teachers. (As an aside, a P.E. teacher in a suit is like a 10 year old in a suit: uncomfortable and adorable.)<br /><br />Muted, indistinct classical music is piped in through the sound system as the third years enter the gym, walking in lines down a pathway of sorts, and sit down in rows, arranged by homeroom class. They are wearing the same school uniforms they wear every day, except with small red flowers - I'd guess carnations, but then again the only flowers I can identify for certain are roses and <i>perhaps</i> sunflowers - in the right front pocket of their jackets. They look bored, and the ceremony hasn't even properly begun.<br /><br />The principal enters the gym, wearing a special jacket with long tails only used for the entrance and graduation ceremonies. He walks down the pathway to his seat at the aforementioned administrator’s area, sitting to the right of the two vice-principals. After he sits down, the MC stands up, walks to the podium at the side of the stage, and announces that the graduation ceremony will now commence. He then barks out, "<i>kiritsu</i>!"<br /><br />-Now, this is a common part of all the ceremonies at school, these orders. It was something that jumped out at me the first time I attended a function, but now it seems entirely natural. The audience is told when to stand, when to sit, and when to bow through tersely worded yelps from the MC of <i>kiritsu</i>, <i>rei</i>, and <i>chakuseki</i>: "stand," "bow," and "sit," respectively. It's rather strange taking orders from another person like this at first - rather martial, really - but ultimately necessary to make sure everyone is on the same page as far as ceremony goes. Though it might seem like this would be rather obvious - stand for the national anthem, sit for speeches, clap at the end, etc. - as will become clear, the process here is so involved it would be chaos otherwise-<br /><br />So, <br /><br /><i>kiritsu!</i><br /><br />and we all stand. "Now, the singing of the national anthem," he announces. The band in the rafters behind us starts in on the mournful dirge of the song, and the teachers and students begin to sing. (I'm going to save <a href="http://thetrailoftears.blogspot.com/2007/06/patriotism-is-last-refuge-of-scoundrel.html">my discussion of the anthem itself</a> for another time, but suffice to say, it's both moving and troubling at the same time to experience) At the end of the song - which is mercifully short, as anthems go - <br /><br /><i>chakuseki!</i><br /><br />and we sit.<br /><br />Then, the MC announces it's time for the awarding of diplomas, and the principal heads up onto the stage, bowing at the audience, then at the flag, taking his position behind the central podium. Now proceeds the most tedious section of the ceremony - the reading of the names of each student. The home room teacher of each class proceeds to the podium at the side of the stage and reads the name of each student in sequence. Nobody walks up to the stage; after his or her name is read, the student stands, yells, "Hai!" bows, and remains standing until all of his or her classmates have had their turn. Then that homeroom sits, and the next homeroom teacher approaches and it starts over again. 40 or so students to a class, 10 classes = lots of "Hai!" and bowing.<br /><br />I try to amuse myself by thinking about the insane amount of overlap in names that occurs in a country without any sort of immigration. It's like having everyone in a graduating class be named Smith or Jones. There's remarkably little innovation as far as first names go either, because people seem to put all their ingenuity into thinking of different Chinese characters to use to write the first names of their kids rather than thinking of an original name. That topic only works for a bit as a diversion, so I start studying the individual bows of students. You can tell a lot about someone by how they bow: how deep, how long they hold the bow, what they do with their hands - all these things can reveal to an observer things about your personality and upbringing. Or at least, I imagine they reveal such things to me. This kills time.<br /><br />It also keeps me awake. Many of the other teachers make it through this section by sneaking in a nap. Many of the students do as well, actually. Nestled down in their seats, they jump up as their names are called, managing to get out a muffled "Hai!"<br /><br />Finally, all the names have been called, so the principal walks off the stage, bowing again, and takes his seat down at the side of the stage. Then, 10 seconds later, he stands right back up, walks back onto the stage, bows again, and takes <i>the exact same position behind the podium</i>. This is the part in the ceremony where I - without fail - laugh aloud and am scolded by whoever I happen to be sitting next to. Because this is the part where the observance of protocol just crosses the line into insanity.<br /><br /><i>Kiritsu!<br />Rei!<br />Chakuseki!</i><br /><br />The principal, now back up on the stage and, presumably, rested from his 10 second sojourn, begins to give a speech. This is amusing to me because he's just been transferred to this school in the last year and so is barely known by any of the students. Several, actually, had confessed to me that they don't even know his name. His speech is innocuous enough and passes without incident or interest from the students assembled.<br /><br /><i>Kiritsu!<br />Rei!<br />Chakuseki!</i><br /><br />But his speech is outdone in the capacity for arousing disintrest by the VIP speaker brought out next, as the district superintendent comes up on stage to give a rambling 10 minute address. He looks like he's never spoken to a group of students before, and he addresses them in patronizing, simplified terms, like they're graduating primary, not high school. I'm completely mystified by why the guy is even at the ceremony, let alone giving a speech to students. There are actually several other adminstrators present from other junior high and high schools, but they, fortunately, do not also give a speech. Like the principal before him, the superintendent mostly talks about how the students will and should never lose their identification with their school. He sweats a lot, but makes it through, eventually. Most of the students, however, did not make it through the first minute (They're asleep).<br /><br /><i>Kiritsu!<br />Rei!<br />Chakuseki!</i><br /><br />The principal stands up once more and again takes his place behind the podium onstage, and the MC announces now it's time for the Farewell Address from a representative of the student body. A girl stands up and walks up on stage to stand facing the principal across the podium. This is what you can see in that picture at the top of the page.<br /><br />If you look at that picture, you'd probably suspect this was of the girl greeting the principal, or perhaps receiving something on behalf of the class from the principal. But this is in fact a picture taken midway through her speech.<br /><br />Because, the girl giving the speech about her experience at high school is <i>not</i> giving the speech to her assembled classmates, but <i>directly</i> to the principal at the front of the stage. She talks about the good times and the bad she has had at school, her formative experiences and the times she'll never forget. Near the end, she breaks into tears several times and has to pause to regain her composure enough to go on. Students in the audience, and teachers as well, are similarly shook up by the speech, and the sounds of stifled weeping can be heard all over the gym. Never once during this entire speech does she turn around to face the crowd; the speech is directed solely at the impassive face of the principal. Never once do I see a betrayal of emotion on his face through my zoom lens. The girl goes back to her seat, and<br /><br /><i>Kiritsu!<br />Rei!</i><br /><br />as we bow at the Principal again, before he makes his way off the stage, and<br /><br /><i>Chakuseki!</i><br /><br />we sit down too.<br /><br />The sending off is a very quick speech by the<br /><br /><i>Kiritsu!<br />Rei!</i><br /><br />Vice Principal,<br /><br /><i>Chakuseki!</i><br /><br />and an intro into the singing of the school song.<br /><br /><i>Kiritsu!</i><br /><br />The band starts up on the song, which all the students and teachers know - except for me. I suppose I could learn the lyrics, but it's more fun to just go through it making noises that sound vaguely like the verses, waiting for the end where they just sing, "Hamamatsu Minami Koukou," (the name of the school) at which point I can join in heartily. Sometimes I whistle. The school song is longer than the national anthem, incidentally.<br /><br />The song done, the Vice Principal stands up and walks over to the side podium to announce the end of the graduation ceremony. With one more...<br /><br /><i>Kiritsu!<br />Rei!</i><br /><br />...the ceremony is finished. The piped-in music begins anew and teachers stand by the door as the students file out in rows. I start trying to make a mental image of the ceremony to write about later.<br /><br /><br />So, this was an extremely long, perhaps tedious description of the event. But that's not to say just because the recounting of so many details was tedious to read that the details are of no importance:<br /><br />First, just walking into the gym, you can see how everything has its place. Everyone knows where they are to be. And, with the giant sign announcing the order of ceremonies, everyone knows exactly what they will do. Obviously, a current running throughout is the intense attention to detail and procedure. This is most ridiculous in the way the principal dances from stage to the table off-stage between portions of the ceremony, of course, but though I laugh while watching, it makes perfect sense here. Things happen according to certain rules in certain ways and at certain times. Everyone knows this, so it all runs like one well-oiled machine. From the outside - to me - it may seem amusing, silly, or even a bit fascist, but the school is not built to produce people like me to live in the US; it's for Japanese kids to learn to navigate Japanese society. <br /><br />In Japan, knowing your place is vital, as an awareness of relative status is necessary to even properly talk to another person; different verb conjugations and even verbs have to be used to those above or below oneself. There are rules for behavior in most any situation to follow, and social consequences for not following these rules. Once kids graduate school, they enter adult society, and they have to be ready for their new roles in the workplace. That means learning the right way to navigate the social landscape of the group as much as it does any actual job-skills (Interestingly enough, I've heard of Japanese companies making hiring decisions purely based on a candidate's grasp of honorific language, so in some cases this social adeptness might actually be held above actual work-related ability)<br /><br />The most shocking part of the ceremony for me was watching the girl give the commencement speech facing the principal, rather than her peers and parents. The symbolism was just amazing. In the US, the girl would speak to her classmates. She would share and celebrate their time and accomplishments at school. But here, the girl was speaking to the principal, the school made manifest. By turning away from her classmates, she was showing that this ceremony was not about their lives and futures, but about their obligation to the school.<br /><br />At the very end of their schooling, the graduate is produced, not as a supposed invididual who has accomplished much and is on the way to even greater things, but - just as the speeches of the principal and superintendent made clear - as someone who owes a debt to the school and though going on to another, larger group, must never forget their place here. The students are there to be reminded of their place in the line of those before and to come. The ceremony is not about the accomplishments of the students, because it's not really about the students at all; it's about the school.<br /><br />And that's really it. The ceremony is not about the students, because the schooling is not about the individuals. The schooling is not about producing individuals because the goal is to create members of a group that will cohere into one. The ceremony is a celebration of the group, because that's what the society celebrates.<br /><br />The thing is, watching one of these graduations, though the school and its ceremony seem to exalt in the group, the students themselves seem ambivalent if not apathetic. And this reveals some problems for this generation in Japan. Schools were set up to create factory workers to compete in a post-WWII market that no longer exists. Loyalty to a group - typically a company - in adult life was predicated on a promise of job security that is no longer being made. Kids see this, and the divide between what society promises and what it can deliver them, what the system is there to provide and what they actually want, seems to be growing. This graduation should be a stirring moment for them as a symbol of what's to come.<br /><br />But most of them couldn't stay awake.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-3325489307241973152007-04-22T19:31:00.000+09:002007-04-22T23:00:55.711+09:00Those damn Brazilians<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdCmxArSqtXHdEk88DdBZXLVHFY0B-Lyjp3rzJP_g_EZYnnQ5F3rZa1aTmU1NNR9xUWkaLGJN-HdewII6UIIxgQ_cTb_cdOhnZwcf1hR6sXj6zn1BrueRgEAnHJcxbZ7dYId9k/s1600-h/DVC00007.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdCmxArSqtXHdEk88DdBZXLVHFY0B-Lyjp3rzJP_g_EZYnnQ5F3rZa1aTmU1NNR9xUWkaLGJN-HdewII6UIIxgQ_cTb_cdOhnZwcf1hR6sXj6zn1BrueRgEAnHJcxbZ7dYId9k/s320/DVC00007.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056214714773152914" /></a>In Japan, candidates for political office are subject to all kinds of restrictions on campaigning: apparently forbidden from advertising on television or radio, and prohibited from campaigning of almost any kind up until the last couple weeks of the elections. They're left with two main options: plastering every open surface with posters with the candidates mug and name, and blasting every open frequency with propaganda speeches from huge megaphones mounted on trucks, screeching like terrible birds of prey, descending upon innocents in public spaces, mercilessly slaughtering peace of mind and quiet.<br /><br />So I go to Starbucks to get a cup of coffee and read a book last week. I like to sit outside on nice days and read, taking breaks to people watch. Often I see people I know - usually students, typically in awe to see me living outside the school grounds - and though it's not terribly exciting, it's a way of getting out of the house and getting some reading done. <br /><br />But, I'm only there for about 10 minutes when this truck parks down the street and starts blaring its political speech at an intolerable volume. Typically I can ignore background noise when I'm reading, but this not in the background; it's more like someone standing next to you with a bullhorn screaming in your ear.<br /><br />So I pick up my coffee and book and head down to the <i>other</i> Starbucks. This being a modern city and all, that's only a couple blocks away. I get about 15 pages farther in my book when the speech begins again. I look up and see the same truck. It has now set up shop directly across the street from this Starbucks.<br /><br />I don't even try to read through it this time; I snarl at the truck a bit, jump to my feet and immediately walk back to the other one, still with my original cup of coffee in hand. I sit down again - back at my original table - and open the book.<br /><br />I'm still not halfway through my coffee when the truck comes back <i>again</i>, except this time even closer to the first Starbucks than before. Now, I get so angry I actually start listening to what kind of nonsense this guy is yelling into the megaphone. I want to know what is so damn important that they feel it's necessary to hound me all around town.<br /><br />And then I <i>really</i> get angry.<br /><br />Because this guy is talking about foreigner crime. Actually, what he's talking about is a case in which a Brazilian from Hamamatsu killed some girl and then ran back to Brazil. Apparently now the government refuses to extradite him. It sounds like a pretty tragic case.<br /><br />But-<br /><br />This guy is not talking about this one case alone. He is not leading a crusade on behalf of this girl to bring her killer to justice. He is not even just talking about the problems with the law as it applies to Brazilians. No, he is sitting on the sidewalk talking about foreigner crime. Foreigners, as in all non-Japanese. <br /><br />He talks about how, though most foreigners are good people, some of them are committing crimes, and then they escape back to their countries to avoid punishment. He exhorts the Japanese people to support a stronger stance on foreigner crime: both to increase penalties and also to educate the foreign population. He informs the Japanese in the area that many foreigners simply don't understand Japanese morals, and it's the job of the Japanese to teach them how to be good citizens.<br /><br />I am steaming at this point.<br /><br />In my head, I compose several counter-arguments:<br /><br />1) Statistics on foreign crime in Japan, though often trotted out in elections to play into public fears of the Other (recently re-elected Tokyo Governor Ishirhara is a prime, <i>prime</i> offender), are rather misleading. Though overal crime rates are somewhat higher for foreign residents, there are mitigating factors. First, to compare "crimes" is misleading, as a majority of the "crimes" committed by foreigners in Japan are actually visa-related, and obviously none of these can be committed by any Japanese person. Second, though crime rates base use the number of legal foreign residents in Japan as the base population, they include crimes committed by any foreign person - even tourists or illegals - for the total amount of crimes committed. Basically, this underestimates the foreign population while overestimating the number of crimes they commit, leading to an artificially inflated number.<br /><br />2) Why are the actions of one Brazilian used to indict the entire population of non-Japanese in Japan? As an American, invited here by the Japanese government, well-versed in Japanese culture and language, playing a valueable role in the community educating children, why should I be labeled a possible threat? To these very same children, no less. Recently, a young British woman in Japan as an English teacher was murdered by a Japanese man, but I'm quite sure that her parents aren't down on the street corner talking about the grave threat Japanese people pose to us all. An even more pertinent example would be the tragedy at Virgina Tech; only the lunatic fringe of our society use the actions of one disturbed kid to attack all Koreans, all Asians, or all foreigners. Hell, even those people are likely to at least be a little more specific in their racism!<br /><br />3) For a guy purporting to want to teach Japanese morals, isn't it <i>insanely</i> rude to sit on a street corner and speak in Japanese about the problems with foreigners, addressing just the Japanese citizens as if no one else could understand what you're saying? It's treating all non-Japanese like children who don't need to be part of the conversation that all the grown-ups are having. And if you're going to make wild indictments of these groups, shouldn't you make your accusations directly, rather than in a way you assume they won't understand?<br /><br />So I think about these things. I stand across from the guy and try to get him to meet my eyes. He does not. I think, if you're going to label me a killer, why don't you fucking look at me directly and say it? <br /><br />I imagine committing several acts of violent foreigner crime.<br /><br />But in the end, I walk away, because though all the above points and more would easily flow out with righteous indignation in English, the process of trying to say these things, to think these thoughts in Japanese just tires me, frustrates me. I can't speak out, and I can't stand up for myself. Yet.<br /><br />I went home and studied Japanese. For next time.<br /><br />Because I know there will be a next time.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-35687288192093844122007-02-15T22:23:00.000+09:002007-02-15T23:31:58.834+09:00Santa's VisitI've been quite lax in my writing lately; not out of nothing to say so far as less time to do so. And, a seeming inability to write on a constant basis. I was home over Christmas and then, after returning to Japan, immediately went off to Cambodia. After coming back from Cambodia I went right back to work - literally, going directly from the airport to school to teach a class. Now I'm trying to interview for jobs in Tokyo so I can move there after my JET contract ends in August. Things have happened, certainly, but these Things get away from me as I put off jotting down stories for another day, which becomes another week, which has become now two months. So, as a stopgap, here is this:<br /><br />It's speech time again at school. The speeches last semester (last year as well for that matter, though I can't hold this year's students responsible for the ineptitude of their predecessors) were so uniformly awful - in the sense of being awful by virtue of extreme uniformity - that this time kids were required to submit their draft to the teacher before the speech even got to me. The teacher was supposed to reject outright any speeches that were too boring or ordinary, forcing the students to come up with original ideas.<br /><br />So, that worked, in a way. By and large, the speeches were much less about club activities or the need to study - the mainstays of last semester. And they were more original. One kid talked about how much he loves Rage Against the Machine - even rapping a few of the lines from "Bulls on Parade." (With a solemn expression, he recited, "Weapons not food not homes not shoes / Not need, just feed the war cannibal animal" and then simply announced, "I heard these words and knew they were very true.")<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKHqJECT9-AaDb6Aes54fhmA-Wkxnjercy64sZh8-xsbFQ9mm1t_6nd9JHPFZQi5vsKgpBa5g67Bur63RdLy4XgcWkJATwp7Dq5qETQdS4q69G-qMsBVKqlAEfjmZDCnLFZTqh/s1600-h/santanoteb.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKHqJECT9-AaDb6Aes54fhmA-Wkxnjercy64sZh8-xsbFQ9mm1t_6nd9JHPFZQi5vsKgpBa5g67Bur63RdLy4XgcWkJATwp7Dq5qETQdS4q69G-qMsBVKqlAEfjmZDCnLFZTqh/s200/santanoteb.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031755133626126530" /></a>Sometimes their originality left me with some questions about their general mindset. For example, this girl's speech. It starts off with her saying she used to believe in Santa, and one time she saw him. "Oh, that's cute," I thought. I would ask that you click on the image and read how the speech develops from there.<br /><br />First, this girl is 16. Not only does she still believe in Santa Clause, but she actually <i>does</i> believe that Santa came to her house to take a piss. I talked to her about it when she gave the speech. She insisted.<br />Second, in what kind of magical Christmas story does Santa take a piss in your house? I'm pretty sure there aren't any carols or claymation specials about Santa sneaking in and leaving <i>that</i> kind of present; even the Grinch stayed clear of that. Even surrounded by bright blue smoke, that's still not a sight to inspire wonder or the spirit of the holidays.<br />Third, if Santa <i>did</i> come to your house just to take a piss, would it really be something to be so happy about? Something that would fill you with longing and regret that he didn't return to soil your house again with his steaming, yuletide urine? <br />Fourth, isn't the whole idea of this kind of unsettling? It conjours up thoughts for me of vagrants wandering into her house, or perhaps an alcoholic father stumbling around in the dark.<br /><br />Other times, the push for originality seemed to result in the students becoming more unhinged than usual. Asking a lot of these kids to write something individual on any topic they like is akin to suddenly releasing animals raised in captivity into the wild veldt; pushed out of the metaphorical cage of their completely structured educational system, shocked by their freedom of expression, freezing stock-still and unable to write at all, or racing off across the fields on some bizarre tangent of communication.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYo3kd6bxgExSR0wYWZegGzNQ4CasO4U7sbzoBE8qAzmeu9_Ak-dtnPFGS3hfGFDXYv7iU9O5FKrB1H7Kh4d28AOTi8g5x3aummENkbX73dM8kX480vkMm19SfxPnUXkV8zx7Z/s1600-h/revolutions.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYo3kd6bxgExSR0wYWZegGzNQ4CasO4U7sbzoBE8qAzmeu9_Ak-dtnPFGS3hfGFDXYv7iU9O5FKrB1H7Kh4d28AOTi8g5x3aummENkbX73dM8kX480vkMm19SfxPnUXkV8zx7Z/s200/revolutions.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031761657681449170" /></a>Like this guy. Sandwiched in between the opening and closing lines here is a completely normal speech. That opening line, however, is "I will cause a revolution next year." I read onward to learn of what this kid's plan might be, but to no avail. He just talks about studying and playing basketball. Then the revolution rears its head again. He admits that "causing a revolution is difficult for me" (and I think we've all been <i>there</i> before!) but assures with confidence, "but I <i>will</i> cause a revolution." <br /><br />When I get speeches like this, I usually pepper them with question marks and send them back to the kid to explain. When it's something I want to hear though, I just leave it, wait for the kid to give the speech, and enjoy the show. They stand up in front of the class and say the most insane things with no comprehension of their meaning. A student declares "I will cause a revolution," but as I break into laughter, he only crinkles his brow slightly before going on, a bit befuddled by my reaction but otherwise unaffected. The rest of his classmates turn back as well to see me laughing, but just shake their heads at me in incomprehension, since they don't understand what the speaker is saying any more than he does.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-1161610899613520482006-12-19T16:32:00.000+09:002006-12-19T16:32:15.789+09:00Nuclear AmbivalenceHere's an article from the Onion - the satirical newspaper - that prompted me to write this in the first place:<br /><br /><div class="onion_embed headline"><a class="img" target="theonion" href="http://www.theonion.com/content/node/54113?utm_source=Distributed&utm_medium=Embedded%2BHTML&utm_campaign=Widgets"><img src="http://www.theonion.com/content/files/images/North-Korea-thumb.frontpage_thumbnail_small.jpg.jpg" alt="N. Korea Detonates 40 Years Of GDP" /></a><h2><a target="theonion" href="http://www.theonion.com/content?utm_source=Distributed&utm_medium=Embedded%2BHTML&utm_campaign=Widgets"><img src="http://www.theonion.com/content/themes/onion/assets/logos/onion_super_tiny.png" width="92" height="12" alt="The Onion" /></a></h2><h3 style="font-size:21px!important;line-height:20px!important;"><a target="theonion" href="http://www.theonion.com/content/node/54113?utm_source=Distributed&utm_medium=Embedded%2BHTML&utm_campaign=Widgets" >N. Korea Detonates 40 Years Of GDP</a></h3></div><style type="text/css">.onion_embed{ background:rgb(256,256,256)!important;border:4px solid rgb(65,160,65);border-width:4px 0 1px 0;margin:10px 30px!important;padding:5px;overflow:hidden!important;zoom:1;}.onion_embed img{ border:0!important;}.onion_embed a{display:inline;}.onion_embed a.img{ float:left!important;margin:0 5px 0 0!important;width:66px;display:block;overflow:hidden!important;}.onion_embed a.img img{border:1px solid #222!important;width:64px;padding:0!important;;}.onion_embed h2{ line-height:2px;clear:none;margin:0!important;padding:0!important;}.onion_embed h3{ line-height:16px;font:bold 16px Arial,sans-serif!important;margin:3px 0 0 0!important;padding:0!important;}.onion_embed h3 a{ line-height:16px!important;color:rgb(0,51,102)!important;font:bold 16px Arial,sans-serif!important;text-decoration:none!important;display:inline!important;float:none!important;text-transform:capitalize!important;}.onion_embed h3 a:hover{ text-decoration:underline!important;color:rgb(204,51,51)!important;}.onion_embed p{color:#000!important;font:normal 11px/11px arial,sans-serif!important;margin:2px 0 0 0!important;padding:0!important;}.onion_embed a{display:inline!important;float:none!important;}</style><img style="display: none;" width=0 height=0 src="http://track.theonion.com/onion.php?type=embedded_widget&title=" /><br /><br />Many people have asked me recently about what the mood is like in Japan now that North Korea is, apparently, a nuclear power. After all, it's the Japanese who have the most to fear from N. Korea; with the North Korean missile tests, the Japan has already had two shots fired across its bow. I read in the NY Times online or the BBC News that there's a great fear of nuclear proliferation, of what a maniac like Kim Jong Il might do. The Koreans - even the South - still carry a great deal of resentment, to say the least, against the Japanese over what happened during WWII, and the consistent refusal of the Japanese government to accept responsibility for its wartime actions. <br /><br />Considering the amount of basic hysteria across much of the US about terrorist attacks - even in places (the entire Midwest?) no terrorist could possibly have <i>heard</i> of, let alone care to target - I thought there would be some level of popular discourse about this situation. I came to work the day after the announcement of the testing of a nuclear weapon. I waited to hear teachers commiserate over their anxiety, or students to ask questions about what would happen, or the principal to make some sort of statement. I waited entirely in vain. The only announcement at the morning meeting was to report on a bicycle accident and remind students to be careful on their way to school. Talk between teachers was as rare as always and as always centered around classes and the monotony of grading papers. Everyone acted like they hadn't heard anything at all, to the extent that I wondered if in fact they hadn't heard anything at all.<br /><br />Finally, sitting at the computers and reading the newspaper, I brought it up with the Beach Boys Sensei and another teacher. I asked them if they were aware of what was going on, and how they felt. They said of course they knew about it, but responded, "what are we going to do about it?"<br /><br />And that sort of shrugging off really typified for me the attitude of most everyone here regarding politics. If people are aware of politics at all, they seem aware of it in a totally peripheral way. Politics seems to be to most Japanese, something that happens off in Tokyo. Politics is the business of politicians, and these decisions are to be made by the people off in those governmental buildings. They'll take care of it, so it isn't necessary for people to have opinions either way on issues; they just need to do their jobs.<br /><br />And know I'm coming from a country where the majority of people don't even vote, and even if they do, it's often based on party lines or without a clear understanding of the issues. Still, I have a hard time imagining Bush getting angry at representatives from his party that don't fully support him and fielding new candidates in an election for their districts that don't even live in the areas. But that's what Koizumi did in the <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/4219110.stm">last election</a>; he blacklisted several representatives and sent actresses and businesspeople to run in areas of Japan they might not even have visited before. And they <i>won</i>. People voted for candidates that don't even live in their areas or know anything about them to represent their hometowns and their interests in parliament. That seemed to me to be a pretty clear indictment of how seriously people take the idea of representative government here.<br /><br />The LDP, roughly equivalent to the Republican party in the US, has been the ruling party here for almost 50 years, with only one brief interruption. We complain about our two party system being inadequate for a real democracy; the system here is a joke. The same giant conglomerates that ran Japan before and during WWII - the equivalents of the huge German companies basically - were never dismantled or run through any sort of process comparable to the de-Nazification in Germany. The current top politicians are either holdovers or descendants of the same people who drove the country right into war before and never recanted afterward. The Emperor has never been held responsible for anything he did, so how can anyone else be, really?<br /><br />These things shock me, but leave no impression on most people it seems. There was no political discussion going on at Waseda when I was studying there; no protests, no activism, no general awareness of issues at all, really. The complete disassociation with what's going on in their country by people here leaves them dangerously open to being led into another bout with disastrous nationalism. With the same sort of people in power as before WWII, it's just fortunate that the current goals of the government seem merely economic.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-23454730922635394282006-12-02T20:22:00.000+09:002006-12-27T16:24:14.846+09:00Christmas with the heathensNext week is final exams so I've been taking it easy on the kids and teaching classes about Christmas. I play Christmas songs (Nat King Cole - The Christmas Song mostly, since that's the only xmas song I can stand to listen to the requisite 40 times or so I will in the course of teaching all the first year students) and the kids try to fill in missing words on lyric sheets; I pass out candy canes and have them write letters to Santa. One day, a teacher asked me to talk a little more about the origin of Christmas - assuming, I guess, like all Japanese do about all Americans, that I am a Christian of deep faith. I had toyed with the idea in the beginning, but thought it might come off as proselytizing, but on further reflecting, realized clearly there no harm in merely talking <i>about</i> religion.<br /><br />So after listening to Nat King Cole for the umpteenth time, I write the word "Christmas" on the board and ask the kids what they know about the holiday. They volunteer and I list words like toys, Santa, reindeer, Christmas tree, etc. "Okay," I say, "so maybe when you think of Christmas, these things come to mind."<br /> <br />"But, does anyone know <i>why</i> Christmas is a holiday?"<br /><br />Blank stares.<br /><br />I think that maybe they just didn't understand the question, so I rephrase it: "Does anyone know what happened on Christmas?"<br /><br />Blanker stares.<br /><br />I pause and, stifling a laugh, take a deep breath. Then I turn to where I've written "Christmas" on the board and underline "Christ" several times. I turn back to the class and ask, cautiously this time, "Do you know who <i>this</i> is?" I wince a little for a few seconds as if anticipating a blow, but fortunately one of the kids says the Japanese name for Christ (<i>kirisuto</i>), and I don't have to freak out completely.<br /><br />"Okay great, Christ, yes. Jesus Christ. (in a fashion taking His name in vain) <i>Jesus Christ</i>, yes. Now, what happened to Jesus Christ on this day?"<br /><br />A student raises a hand tentatively and says in Japanese, "That's when he died, right?"<br /><br />I run my fingers through my hair quite hard. "No." I smile. "In fact, the opposite thing happened. And speak in English."<br /><br />Another says, "Ah, it's his birthday."<br /><br />"Yeah, more or less. So, let me tell you the story of his birth."<br /><br />It turns out that they don't really study world religions, at least not until their junior or senior year of high school. I have a hard time comprehending that these sophomore kids at a high-level high school don't know basic facts about the largest religion in the world, since I learned about Shinto in my 7th grade history class. This is kind of insane. So I decide to right this wrong. I am here to bring them the good news, as it were.<br /><br />I whip out some Christmas picture books and proceed to tell the story of the Nativity. In the course of trying to explain to the kids why it was such a big deal that a baby was born in a manger in some far-off place thousands of years ago, I come to appreciate to an extent how ridiculous missionaries must feel on their first day off in some African village. Trying to explain a religion to someone completely unfamiliar with the stories just reveals how ridiculous they can sound. I see a new expression of bafflement cross the faces of the students for each phrase like "son of God" or "angels" or "three kings" that comes out of my mouth. By the end of the story, I am rather baffled at what's coming out of my mouth as well. You'd have to be a person of unshakeable faith to speak in any way convincingly about these things without feeling a bit silly or embarrassed. I am not that person.<br /><br />This reaches a sort of crescendo while I'm using the tiny statuettes of the Nativity scene to act out the different character's parts. After a long explanation of the relationship between Mary and Joseph where I've been holding up their two figures, I actually look down at what I'm holding and see that in fact what I'm holding is not Joseph but some random shepherd. Upon closer inspection, I realize that on top of the general discernible differences between the two figures, the shepherd actually has a damn <i>sheep hung around his neck</i>. So, not only have I been telling a rather sacrilegious story about the unconsummated love of Mary and one shepherd from Bethelehem, but I've convinced all the kids that Jesus' father walked around with a sheep strung around his neck at all times. I break and just laugh really hard.<br /><br />I give up in the end and just have them write their letters to Santa. I tell them about Santa's list; presents for the good children and coal for the bad. This is much easier to talk to the kids about. It doesn't make me embarrassed as an American or feel ridiculous at all. As silly as Santa's story is, at least we all agree none of it is true.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-25146163208160001742006-11-28T17:24:00.000+09:002006-11-28T17:33:08.105+09:00Student life at HamananRecently I set up a blog for the students in the English club at my school. I wish I could say it's off to a rousing start, but that would a little too generous...anyways, it is certainly off to a start of some kind. Perhaps a bemusing one?<br /><br /><a href="http://hamananenglish.blogspot.com/">Hamanan English Club blog</a><br /><br />The students were asked to write short self-introductions, which prompted stories about car accidents, "soft-ball tennis," BAGELs, and PSP; not ordinary topics during first conversations. <br /><br />Anyways, I'm going to try to get them to write a little something every week. I'm hoping it will, aside from allowing them a measure of self-expression not allowed, let alone encouraged, in their other classes, let others see the general lives of students here. Whether that will be interesting or depressing remains to be seen. Feel free to check it from time to time.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-1159792065161371272006-11-11T20:46:00.000+09:002006-11-12T01:03:56.668+09:00The Yellow MenaceA couple weekends ago I had another class at the local community center with the older Japanese. Typically, I give them a few topics to cover in a free conversation in groups while I walk around and monitor them, answering questions or trying to keep the talk flowing. For the second half of the class, we have some sort of structured activity: the introduction of new grammar or vocabulary, a game, etc.<br /><br />I decided that day we'd have a debate, which we've done a few times before. Though their English levels vary considerably from near-fluent to near-mute, since they're all adults, they generally have something to say which makes a debate of some sort possible for everyone. I broke them up into groups again and gave them a couple topics.<br /><br />One of the big news stories recently has been the Imperial Succession. In short, the Crown Prince and his wife had been unable to produce a male heir to inherit the throne, putting the succession in doubt. They do, however, have a daughter, so some people argued for a changing of the law of succession to permit the daughter to become Empress. This was the subject of some controversy because, though Empresses are not unknown in Japanese history, the actual male line - they say - has never been broken for some 1500 years. This debate was just settled recently however, when the Crown Prince's younger brother and his wife appeared with a son of their own, ensuring the safety of the succession.<br /><br />As an American, I am kind of mystified and bemused at the idea of a monarch, and it seemed to me that most of the younger Japanese people I know are pretty apathetic about the whole issue, but I was curious what the older generation might think. After all, most of them lived when an Emperor still had power and apparently the institution still has meaning for them; it's always grandmas out in the crowd waving at the Emperor when he holds forth.<br /><br />So for one of the topics, I asked them to talk about whether "Women should be allowed to become Emperor." I predicted an interesting talk about whether modern equality should trump traditions. I was very surprised however, as the debate they actually had quickly evolved into one over whether the Imperial system should continue at all - and most everyone said "No."<br /><br />As it turns out, the Emperor currently receives a yearly stipend of several million dollars from the government. This, despite the fact that his role is entirely ornamental, and he is of course already quite wealthy due to extensive property holdings. Several women in the class were quite vehement in their displeasure of paying through taxes the salary of a man who "doesn't do <i>anything</i>" and yet lives in a huge complex completely isolated from the public. Others went even further, saying that the Imperial system itself is ridiculous and should be dismantled. The only dissenting opinion was the one man there that day, who said that the Emperor should be retained as a symbol of Japan. The women all disagreed though, saying they felt no connection for the Emperor, even as a symbol.<br /><br />After the Japanese surrender, there was a debate among the American occupation forces about the future of the Imperial system. In the end, MacArthur and the Americans decided to keep the institution, albeit stripping it of its powers. MacArthur also refused calls to try the monarch for any responsibility in the war. He believed that any attempt to remove the Emperor would cause upheavals in Japan. Why? Because he, along with other Japan "experts", thought the people here were fundamentally incapable of thinking for themselves, and they could not have democracy here without the imperial system. They bought into the propaganda of the wartime government of Japan of the people as blindly obedient to the Emperor, and also believed in the myth of all the yellow people in general as ant-like followers.<br /><br />In the end, it seems this was another example of taking the public front of a government for the feelings of all its citizens. The government talks about the respect and love people had for the Emperor, and I simply assumed that they believed exactly what the government said. I found that I still harbored some of the same patronizing views of people here as Americans did in the past.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-1160386947072904132006-10-09T17:50:00.000+09:002006-11-09T17:56:48.347+09:00If I were an African, I'd smack that kid<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/DVC00004.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/320/DVC00004.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>On Friday I was teaching a second-year writing class with another teacher on the subjunctive mood (ex: if I <i>were</i> you, I would...). The writing class is filled with kids who, rather than simply providing simple answers, try their best to come up with something amusing and unexpected each time. To give you an idea of what it's like, both <a href="http://thetrailoftears.blogspot.com/2005/11/profiles-of-only-students-i-am-sure.html">Duckboy</a> and the sagely <a href="http://thetrailoftears.blogspot.com/2006/02/lifehappiness-music.html">Life=Happiness Music kid</a> are in the class.<br /><br />We're calling on students for example sentences using the subjunctive mood. The depressing answer of the day is the completion of the phrase, "If my father had more free time.." with "he could be working harder." Wow, sucks to be <i>your</i> dad, you little authoritarian prick. But generally, we get innocuous answers like "If I had enough money, I would buy a big house." and "If I had enough time, I would want to play soccer." Fair enough, I think. <br /><br />Then the sage raises his hand and volunteers his sentence:<br /><br />"If I were an African, I would hunt animals."<br /><br />I go over to make sure that he actually wrote down what he just said. <br /><br />Yeah, he did write and say that.<br /><br />Meanwhile there is little response from the rest of the class, and as I turn around I realize the teacher has just gone ahead and written down his answer on the board. I roll my eyes and take this opportunity to teach the kid a couple of pertinent English words by leaning over to type into his electronic dictionary: "S-T-E-R-E-O-T-Y-P-E." and "I-G-N-O-R-A-N-T." as in, "If I were you, I'd be embarrassed as your stereotype shows how ignorant you are." I write this on the board and make a mental note to ask their social studies teacher to maybe point out next class that not all Africans are currently hunter-gatherers.<br /><br />Later in class, I realize that they've all just copied down what I wrote on the board as if it was another example sentence from the textbook, missing the point entirely. JET internationalization fails again.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-1160314355734764352006-10-08T22:00:00.000+09:002006-11-09T17:56:48.232+09:00Designated carpoolLast week we had the sports festival at school. <a href="http://thetrailoftears.blogspot.com/2005/10/sports-festival.html">Last year</a>, I was excited to see all the kids out in their teams with their different colored shirts running around. This year, I stayed inside and read so I wouldn't get sunburned. Some things get old quickly.<br /><br />It's quite a big event though; all of the students at the school have to participate in some capacity, and it goes on for the entire school day. The P.E. teachers have to plan and run the whole thing, so after a long day of work, they do what people do in Japanese workplaces everywhere - go out and get drunk. And I don't mean "a few beers with the boys" drunk, I mean "passing out in your suit on a bench in the train station" drunk.<br /><br />The next morning, after getting out the shower I notice I got a call from my neighbor, one of the aforementioned teachers. I'm surprised because - though I often call him when it rains to get a ride to school - he has never once phoned me. I call him back.<br /><br />Me: Good morning!<br />Teacher: RUKAS~! (He seems to really love yelling my name like this) Good morning.<br />Me: You called me?<br />Teacher: Ah...yes. I was going to ask you, can you drive a car?<br />Me: Huh? Yeah...Why?<br />Teacher: So, last night, after sports day, I had a drinking party with the other P.E. teachers...<br />Me: Ah, good work on sports day.<br />Teacher: Thanks...well, I had a bit too much to drink last night.<br />Me: Well, are you okay?<br />Teacher: Yes, but I'm still a little drunk, actually.<br />Me: (Pause) Umm, okay...<br />Teacher: So, would you mind driving me to school in my car?<br />Me: (Pause to laugh really hard)...Sure, no problem.<br /><br />So, I go down and he's sitting in the passenger seat of his car with the car running, waiting for me. I jump in and we head off to school. He tells me he got home really late the night before after too many beers, and decided it wouldn't be safe for him to drive himself to work. On one level, I think this is responsible and admirable, as drunk driving is alarmingly commonplace - both in frequency and level of acceptance - in Japan. Of course, on another level, he <i>is</i> going to work drunk. And on another, more hilariously terrible level, he is going <i>to teach at a school</i> drunk!<br /><br />I laugh about this the entire trip, even more as he keeps giving me directions on how to get there; I feign surprise and gratitude when he tells me where to turn to get into the parking lot. Sure, it's ridiculous, but I'm thinking about this too much as an American. There, this kind of thing would be considered alcoholism and could get you fired. Here, they hold drinking parties at least twice a term which all teachers are required to attend - and the hundreds of bottles of Kirin there are all <i>paid for by the school</i>.<br /><br />In the end, I just laughed and told him to just stand out on the field during class with his sunglasses on and his arms crossed till he sobered up. After all, he's just a P.E. teacher; that's basically all he does every day anyway.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-1159794057426479212006-10-02T21:29:00.000+09:002008-01-16T02:45:23.969+09:00Everything true and real<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/rapspeech.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/320/rapspeech.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>The beginning of the school year here means another 400 speeches for me to attempt to correct. When fortune smiles upon me, I just have countless speeches about club activities with simple grammatical and spelling mistakes to make it through. These depress me terribly, because they prove how terribly depressing most of the kids' lives are - even during summer they spend too much time studying and doing club activities and don't see their friends - but at least I can slog through them. Sometimes I am hit by a paper that is basically indecipherable; it looks like it has been translated word for word from Japanese to English, despite the complete lack of structural affinity of the two languages; it contains bizarre sentences without subjects or objects that I cannot conceive of; it is still written partly in Japanese that I have to then translate. These take much longer to get through, because they often seem to have been penned by Gollum, all sentences with off-putting subjects ("It tires," "It hurts us", "It eats well,") possessing that same structure of a maniacal rant struck down on paper.<br /><br />Then there are the fantastic ones like this (Please click on the picture and read). He begins talking about how he loves music, which I appreciate, and then starts talking about how his favorite kind of music is hip-hop. Any kid who doesn't listen to Japanese Pop is cool to me, but then he ups the ante by dropping the name of Jay-Z. The rest of the essay is just pure gold. This is my favorite type of writing I get from students, because it is simply non-reproducible by a native speaker. Freed from an understanding of diction, style, and often grammar itself, and the burdens those things may impose, the Japanese students seem to be able to do things unintentionally with English that are both hilarious and novel.<br /><br />There are some great lines: "His rap is smooth just like a flowing river," and the songs "have the samurai spirit." But, my favorite part has to be when he writes, "the words of [his] songs [are] everything true and real." <br /><br />I believe what he meant is, "Everything Jay-Z says in his songs is true and real." But, instead of that stolid phrase, he says the words themselves <i>are</i> everything true and real. He's not talking about the veracity of Jay-Z's experiences, but claiming that the words of Jay-Z represent, perhaps even <i>create</i>, truth and reality <i>in themselves</i>! What made me laugh even more than this, was that it almost sounded like something Jay-Z himself would say; it's the kind of self-aggrandizing lyric a rapper would wish he'd written.<br /><br />Long story short, I gave this guy high marks and told him I expected a report on the meaning of the song "Girls, Girls, Girls" next week.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-1158420082491107822006-09-16T23:17:00.000+09:002006-11-09T17:56:47.873+09:00Breaking old promises<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/mamiandme.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/320/mamiandme.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>School just started again after the summer break, and I'm getting back into the grind of waking up too early and dragging myself in to dance around for my little English lesson/minstrel show for the students. It being the second year, I'm using the same lessons from last year, so I've got the routine down pat. Like last year, I'm preparing students for a speech contest (more on that later) and grading almost 400 speeches others were required to write for English class.<br /><br />And so I was in a Starbucks in the city grading these tests when a girl walked up to me and started waving. Lots of students walk or bike by me waving whenever I'm in the city, but, raising my eyes with some suspicion and giving her the quick once-over, I saw that she wasn't wearing a school uniform. This seemed to place her in that dubious category of Japanese that might just wave at me, a complete stranger, just for being tall, white, and red-crested. My interest in Japanese just for their Japanese-ness currently being nil, I decided to ignore her and went back to grading.<br /><br />But, she as she ran up and yelled, "Mr. Adams!" at me, still waving, I looked closer and saw Mami, the girl I tutored last year for entrance interviews for her university. <a href="http://thetrailoftears.blogspot.com/2005/10/luke-and-ewok.html">You know, the one the Vice Principal wanted me to promise not to make fall in love with me</a>. In the end, she passed the interview, was accepted, and went off to Nanzan University in Nagoya to study English. This was the first time I'd talked to her since graduation, so it was really nice to see her. She looked very different outside of school - namely, not in a uniform. I'd say she looked older as well, but that has to be taken relatively, in the sense that most all of the students look like they're 14 anyway so it wouldn't take much to build on that. She and 3 of her friends sat down with me and chatted for a while about their college lives.<br /><br />Being a bit depressed at teaching the same lame lessons and grading the same boring speeches about club activities, seeing her was exactly what I needed: a reminder of the impact I can have on kid's lives. Not in some vague way about changing their perceptions of foreigners, opening their minds to the wonders of English, or whatever; no, in the definite sense that <i>I got that girl into college</i>. And she's going to remember that, and with something so small I was able to change someone else's life. So the minstrel show will go on, because I've got one more year to get to the rest of those kids.<br /><br />After talking to her for a while though, it became clear that she's remembering me for other reasons too. Looks like I broke my promise to the Vice Principal after all...Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-1153232024440337422006-07-18T22:52:00.000+09:002006-11-09T17:56:47.749+09:00Speaking of hostess clubsA couple times a month I teach an English conversation class on Saturday at the local community center to a small group of mostly elderly students. They're all really nice, aside from being much more motivated and easier to teach than the high school kids I deal with generally.<br /><br />Since I live a bit away, they take turns each time picking me up to bring me to the center. Last class one of the women from the class came to pick me up and as we drove we chatted a bit. It was a little hard going because though she is basically the worst student in the class, she doesn't want me to speak Japanese. Basically, all the students seem to take any time outside of class with me as a free English lesson, so they're always trying to wring every use out of me possible.<br /><br />We're talking a bit about my plans for the weekend as we pull into the parking lot. Just as I move to take off my seatbelt though, she taps me on the shoulder and a card suddenly materializes into her hand. I look down and find myself holding a business card from "Pleasure Square" for a certain Rena.<br /><br />"What's this?" I ask<br />Her: "A card."<br />Me: "Who's Rena?"<br />Her: "Ah...my daughter."<br />Me: "Wait, wait, your daughter is a hostess!?"<br />Her: "No, she's not. It's a part-time job."<br />Me: "Yeah, so she's a hostess <i>part-time</i>."<br />Her: (Sighs)<br />Me: "Why are you giving this to me?"<br />Her: "Well...you should go."<br />Me: "Umm...sorry, but hostess bars are too expensive for me."<br />Her: "Yes, weekends are expensive but if you go on Monday it is only 3000 yen."<br />Me: "I don't know..."<br />Her: "Go. I told her about you. You'd like her."<br /><br />And then I got out and taught the class. What was so amusing to me was how she was both embarrassed at her daughter's job but simultaneously trying to drum up more business for her. Unfortunately, aside from the fact that I would not pay anyone for a conversation, looking at this woman, to be bitterly honest, I would especially not pay to talk to <i>her</i> daughter.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-1150805170896186092006-06-22T20:50:00.000+09:002007-05-27T01:42:46.179+09:00The "Sublime" of English<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/htsaibannersm.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/htsaibannersm.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>I went to Tokyo for a dreadful re-contracting conference - rife with all the inanity and frustration typical of the bureaucratic JET Program conferences and events - and then we had our school festival shortly afterwards. The school festival is a yearly event in which the all the students participate, both through their homerooms and in their club activities. Each homeroom or club is given a classroom or booth and decides on a theme and some activity. The theme of this year's festival was "The Sublime." <br /><br />The English club was to translate the program for the festival into English. The program contained little descriptions written by students of what each club or homeroom was doing in their area. This simple translation taks became a chore since even in Japanese none of what the kids had written in the program made sense, and it was further complicated by the fact that most every sentence describing the different activities at the festival used the word "Sublime," rendering the entire thing nonsensical.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/htsaichocogirls.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/htsaichocogirls.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Some selections:<br /><i><br />24HR "Sublime" Chocolate Bananas: Come taste the "sublime" in bananas!</i><br />(The two girls in the picture are advertising their bananas)<i><br />Calligraphy club: Has the calligraphy club reached the "sublime" of writing? The answer is...Takashi!<br />28HR Entrance of a large hall: Tokyo Friend Park! Enter the unknown world inhabited by a mysterious maid<br />30HR No Goblin!: Throw off your stress and destroy the goblins!</i><br />(and my favorite)<br /><i>39HR Men's Paradise: A world-class paradise for men. We invite you to this world of both fear and laughter<br /></i><br />As the program clearly completely fails to convey any idea of what one might find at the booths, the second year students in the English club were also to conduct tours of the festival in English for any foreign visitors. So they would have someone to actually give a tour to on the day, it fell upon me and my well-known contacts in the foreigner community to provide these foreigners who speak English. I brought Matt.<br /><br />When he arrived, all the girls were busy so we had KMK - I believe I touted his greatness in a previous blog post - give us a solo tour. He took us around and gesticulated wildly at various exhibits. <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/htsaikmkharems.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/htsaikmkharems.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Here is KMK and his harem. KMK actually has a girlfriend in the second year, but since I don't think she's good enough for him, Matt and I kept needling him about going after this first year girl on the right. As the girls here were in the cooking club, Matt played up that angle, while I convinced KMK that this girl had an elegant, rare "old Japan"- type of beauty. He went red and gesticulated in an even wilder fashion - if that can be believed.<br /><br />Matt and I also enjoyed going to the biology club's exhibit, where a series of tanks housed various interesting fish and aquatic animals. After listening to the explanation given by the biology club students at each station, we would conduct this dialogue:<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/htsaipirahna.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/htsaipirahna.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Student: This is a very rare fish.<br />Me: Hmm...that's very interesting. But let me ask this though, can we eat that fish, <i>now</i>?<br />Student: Oh oh! No no no no!<br />Matt: But I'm hungry (rubs stomach) and I <i>want</i> to eat the fish. C'mon buddy.<br />Student: No no no, I-we-ah ah, need the fish!<br />Me: Ah, okay okay, I totally understand. You can't give us the fish because you need them for the festival, right?<br />Student: (Visibly relieved) Yes, yes.<br />Matt: How about this then, we come back in a couple hours, when you close, and <i>then</i> we eat the fish?<br />Student: Oh oh no! (waving arms frantically as I reach my hand towards the tank)<br /><br />We ran through this routine at every tank. Then we took turns distracting the students while we took pictures with our hands in the piranha tank. KMK was going into convulsions at this point.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/htsaikaraokeroom.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/htsaikaraokeroom.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>We ended up back at the English club's room, where we had set up English karaoke. My laptop was hooked up to a TV and a stereo, playing music videos from a list of songs. The idea was that the first year kids would look up the lyrics for the songs on the internet and put together a booklet of English lyrics for visitors to our room to use. As it turns out though, none of the students were at all capable of doing anything with a computer, even typing the name of a song into Google, so in the end I had to set up the entire thing myself. The room also shut down for large amounts of the day as they would click on the wrong box and had to chase me down to fix the computer. This seemed to be pretty much par for the course though, with all the teachers involved in their homerooms and clubs doing enormously disproportionate amounts of work for something ostensibly to be run entirely by the students for the students. <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/htsaisingingjanitor.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/htsaisingingjanitor.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Anyhow, our club event proved less than popular that day, so I also did a disproportionate amount of the singing - though I was less frustrated by that outcome - since even the kids in the club most enthusiastic about the karaoke balked about actually singing in front of others once the time came. In between bouts of my crooning though, KMK stepped up and delivered a surprisingly manly rendition of that O-Zone song, "Dragostea Din Tei"...And no one was left unmoved! I tried to counter by singing A-ha "Take on Me" as a duet with this quiet third-year kid (God knows why he knew all the lyrics), but we just couldn't match KMK's visceral power. It didn't help that my partner for the duet looked like a janitor in his outfit.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/htsaiyukatagirlsm.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/htsaiyukatagirlsm.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Most all of the kids were wearing their t-shirts for their respective homerooms, and those not in the shirts were all wearing costumes of a sort. The girls in the tea ceremony club wore yukata or kimono, the girls running the host club (more on that later) wore flashy dress shirts and skirts, others wore flowers in their hair.<br /><br />While the girls seemed to be dressed up in adorable, graceful or (for school) almost indecent clothes, the boys had taken the occasion to voluntarily serve up their pride to the utmost derision, by me and Matt, at least. <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/htsaimonkeyfag.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/htsaimonkeyfag.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Here is a prime suspect; a 17 year old guy wearing a monkey suit I assume he bought at some store selling little boy's Halloween costumes. Not only was he prancing around in the suit, but he also stopped to pose for this picture with Matt holding onto his tail. I suppose it could be fun for some to see kids taking themselves so lightly, but everyone should have their limits.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/htsaibunnyhats.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/htsaibunnyhats.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Though fortunately I don't have any pictures of this, there were also a disturbingly high number of boys dressed in drag of one kind or another. I suppose their lack of body hair and general possession of the physique of a prepubescent girl makes them particularly fit for this role, but I still found it rather baffling, aside from just unsettling. Boys wearing kimono, boys wearing girl's school uniforms, boys in tennis skirts, and - by far the most nauseating - a boy in a slit China dress. <b>Ugh...</b> (He danced up to me and asked, "Cute? Cute?" "No," I replied most emphatically, "Just disgusting.") Sorry dude, cross-dressing does not equal instant hilarity.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/htsaisadobus.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/htsaisadobus.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Later, I further fulfilled my bond by bringing a few more friends to get an English tour when Kevin, Joyce, and Yukari showed up. KMK, now joined by his friend, proved himself no more a master of verbal and no less a master of non-verbal communication on his second tour. After a few rounds of karaoke, we stopped by the tea ceremony club to have tea and a snack, and beckoned in by the girls outside, then decided to check out the room that was running a host club.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/festivalgirls.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/festivalgirls.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>The fact that a host club had been allowed in the festival kind of confused me, since it seemed wildly inappropriate, even as a joke. Host or hostess clubs in Japan are bars where patrons pay to be waited on and surrounded by male or female hosts, respectively. Usually it's a place salarymen go after work to I guess pay to be fawned on and treated as the center of attention after a day of demeaning and humiliating servitude, though recently bars with young men catering to women are becoming popular as well.There is apparently nothing necessarily untoward about it - nothing is being bought except someone's company and time - but it still seems wildly inappropriate to field a mock one at the school festival. I've never gone to a hostess club because I have never had a conversation I would be willing to pay someone for. Let's just say the school's club didn't change my mind on that score.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-1150807484836254902006-06-20T21:06:00.000+09:002006-11-09T17:56:47.602+09:00The Beer FestivalMatt came for another visit on the 25th, just leaving last week on the 13th. By the end, I was tired as hell and sick to boot. Now I think I can write a little about it, weekend by weekend. <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/beerfestivalbuds.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/beerfestivalbuds.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>I had already decided on our plan for that first weekend more than a month prior, when while reading the Daily Yomiuiri newspaper I found an article about the Japan Beer Festival. Over 100 Japanese microbrews? We were there before Matt had even finalized his plane ticket.<br /><br />So we went to Osaka for the festival and paid 3,000 yen for a 4 hour nomihodai (all you can drink) of more than 100 Japanese craft beers. They tried to handicap us a bit by only providing a 60mL cup, but that proved a futile gesture. Within the first half-hour, we had already sampled all of the beers. By the end of the first hour, we had decided on our favorite brew and taken up permanent residence at their table. By the second hour, Matt had installed himself behind the counter of the brewery booth - despite the continued protests of the woman distributing the samples - and we made a vow to this boisterous Kansai woman that we would drink all of her sample bottles ourselves. <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/beerfestivalspanking.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/beerfestivalspanking.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Kansai people - that is, those from the Kansai region of the main island that encompasses Kyoto, Osaka and Kobe - deserve their reputation as a fiery lot though, as you can see in the next picture. As they finally closed the show down and forced us out, we stumbled out with a few souvenir bottles and our skateboards. I think we were able to skate about 10 feet in a looping, parabolic shape before tumbling to the ground. Matt also managed the impressive feat of forgetting he had put this glass bottle in his back pocket, and cut his hand open right good. This would prove to be only the first of many, many falls. Eventually, after we patched him up, we headed off into the city.<br /><br />We skated around the bright lights of Osaka, dodging frightened old women and chatting up various impressed locals. Later we went out for sushi at one of those restaurants with revolving belts, and, though I only vaguely remember this, I believe got kicked out after we started chucking pieces of tuna against the walls to see if they would stick. I guess it was just that kind of night. Eventually we made it back to a hotel.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/himejifront.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/himejifront.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>The next morning we awoke to find ourselves covered quite evenly with bruises and scrapes. Matt's hand was killing him and I had a nice imprint of a button from my jeans etched into my hip like a head of branded cattle. Pulling it together, we eventually set off to see Himeji, the most impressive castle in Japan. A World Heritage Site, it did not disappoint, to be sure; a massive complex but with a rugged beauty and white exterior that lends it the nickname, the "white heron" castle. <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/himejininja.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/himejininja.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>The castle is also known for the maze-like path that leads to the main keep. The path circles around in a spiral with many dead ends, leaving any potential attackers open to constant attack from the surrounding walls. Himeji was never actually attacked however, so this design remains untested. I should say, "<i>had</i> never" been attacked, because Matt and I took it upon ourselves to take up the task it seems lesser men wilted at. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/himejisigns.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/himejisigns.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Fortunately, this sign's improper use of indefinite articles (climbing <i>"a"</i> wall is prohibited, sure, but how are we to know <i>which</i> wall? It could be any wall, anywhere, right?) left us able to climb without fear of reprisal, as well. I think a young Japanese boy said it best who, after spotting us, cried out "NINJA!" Unfortunately, there were no more samurai sentries left in the castle to come to his aid when I fell upon him like cold, black night, cutting his scream off abruptly with a jab to the windpipe. When in Rome, you know?<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/himejirooffish.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/himejirooffish.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>We climbed several flights of steep stairs, pushing aside Japanese women, children, and the elderly in our wake as we made our ascent to the top. I fell prey to one of the other hidden defenses of the castle when I cracked my skull repeatedly on the low hanging doorways throughout the building. I definitely would not be the ideal person to storm a castle in which I would have to stoop down the entire time, leaving my neck generously extended for anyone who happened to have a really sharp sword or two in hand. As always seems to happen when I travel in Japan, I was embarrassed to be tired at the end when I saw how many old women past 70 had made the trek seemingly unfazed.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/kobemattsfans.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/kobemattsfans.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Later that afternoon we dropped in at Kobe - a charming city - and were, as you see here, greeted by many an adoring female admirer. We skated around, soaked up the local color, watched a terrible street band perform, and ate the local specialty, okonomiyaki, which is kind of a pancake with cabbage. We hopped a train back to Hamamatsu that night and laughed at how we had been in three major cities in that one day. In a reoccuring pattern for the trip, I arrived at work the next morning exhausted while Matt went off exploring somewhere else fun. He was, however, always kind enough to call me in between classes to tell me about all the fun places he was visiting. Thanks, buddy.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15105493.post-1150634742435939162006-06-18T21:45:00.000+09:002006-11-09T17:56:47.312+09:00The School "Excursion"<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/esbuskids.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/esbuskids.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>For several weeks previous, anticipation had been building for our "school excursion", to which I was invited along. For some reason, this is the English translation of the word <i>ensoku</i> that apparently every Japanese learns in English class. Hearing teachers talk about this excursion business made me rather excited about what we might do. However, it seems that rather than "excursion" - which conjures up images of some voyage into jungle primeval, trek across the frozen tundra of the Far North, or perilous attempt at the summit of some great slag of rock - it turns out it would be much more accurate to render the word as "field trip", with all the banality that term usually conveys.<br /><br />For banal our field trip was. All students in all homerooms of all three grade levels were loaded off into buses in the morning, each grade bound for a different exciting location, one homeroom per chartered bus. Since I'm teaching first-year students mostly, I opted to go along with the intrepid explorers of 14 HR. Due to rain that morning, a trip to a historic village and hiking was called off in favor of a visit to the Toyota Museum. I thought it might still be fun though, since some of the greatest art to be seen in Japan is owned by various corporations.<br /><br />A 2-hour bus ride later, I discovered that this was not, as I had assumed, a museum of art owned by the Toyota corporation, but in fact a museum of Toyota cars. As in, a car museum. As in, a museum about the history of the automobile. As in, line after line of cars with placards in front of them. Kind of like going on a field trip to the exotic "Mile of Cars." <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/excitingtoyotacars.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/excitingtoyotacars.jpg" border="0" alt="The excitement is palpable" /></a>Look at the expression on the girl's face in the front in this picture. That's how we all felt. Upon our entrance, we were given about an hour to walk around and enjoy the exhibits. I finished my cursory walk around with some students in about 5 minutes. I gave a personal tour to the kids with commentary: "And here on your right, you will see...another car. And if you walk a little farther, coming up on your left is...this other car. Ah, now we've come to my favorite part of the entire tour - the part where we can all look at <i>this</i> car. Isn't this a particularly fascinating car?" Then I pretended to take an exhaustive series of pictures of the car in question. The tour was over in 5 minutes because I couldn't even amuse myself for that long, and I find myself quite amusing usually. I still can't believe we went to a car museum, but I guess it's hard to find a place to just throw a couple hundred kids in for hours at a time.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/nagoyabusgroup.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/nagoyabusgroup.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>After a long lunch, we still had too much time leftover to just go back to school, so we headed to Nagoya to see Nagoya Castle. One teacher, noting my disappointed look leftover from the last stop, tried to buoy my spirits a little by talking up the castle. Unfortunately, I'd been there twice already, and that was already two times too many. Nagoya Castle is a reconstruction, and like many Japanese reconstructions, it's now a concrete edifice lacking any charm, soul, or real historical merit. Not only is the entire castle fake, essentially, but it's not even attempting to be an authentic fake; the rooms have all been replaced with lame exhibits on the castle's history and the center is hollowed out with a modern staircase and elevator. Once you pass within the imposing gates, it's a lot like walking around some public library built in the 50's. Sometimes I really think the Japanese have a gift for ruining their own historical sites.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/nagoyafish.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/nagoyafish.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Still, we managed to have some fun. It was a good chance for me to interact with the students outside of a school setting - although they were still wearing their uniforms. These girls walked around with this other teacher (the young tennis coach) and I most of the day. The tour of the castle didn't take much more time than the museum, so we hung out in the shade and ate ice cream. I chatted with kids in Japanese - it was their day off, after all - took lots of pictures, let them try on my sunglasses; the usual. <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/1600/estreegroup.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1601/1388/200/estreegroup.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>In the end, of course, the destination is not so important for the trips here, because it's more about fostering bonds between members of homeroom classes. The school system prepares kids for a place in Japanese society by emulating it on a smaller scale with the bonds formed as a class. Just like the sports festival, it encourages a sense of (and need for) belonging to a social group bigger than oneself. Even by the end of just one day trip, I could see this in the kids in my group and others.<br /><br />We eventually piled back onto the buses for another couple hour ride back to school. By my estimation, we spent about 5 hours on the bus that day, and only a little over a 2 hours actually walking around. <br /><br />"Excursion" my ass.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11769933986678127698noreply@blogger.com1