Art and Cheese steaks

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!

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 here). 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 here, at his personal site)

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.




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.

The last part of this surprisingly long and involved message on steaks - much longer and more prominent than the placards you might find regarding paintings in the museum - 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."

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.

The Enola Gay

Recently, 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:

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/11/02/blow-up/

After reading this, I decided to write a reply, which I'll reproduce here:

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).

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.

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).

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.

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.

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.

My farewell speech

I 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:



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？
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?

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？
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?

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。
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.

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。
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…”

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。
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.

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。
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.
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。
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.

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。
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.

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。
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.

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。
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.

「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。
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.

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。
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?

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。
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.

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。
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.

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。
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.

ありがとうございました。
Thank you very much.

Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel

The Japanese national anthem is called "Kimigayo," or "Imperial Reign." Click here to listen to it.

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.

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:

Kimi ga yo wa
Chiyo ni
Yachiyo ni
Sazare ishi no
Iwao to narite
Koke no musu made

May your Imperial reign
Continue for a thousand years,
And last for eight thousand generations,
Until pebbles
Turn into boulders
Covered in moss.

So, the poem is a paean to the Emperor. And it's only 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.

Of course, that was more than a 100 years ago, and the paths of the two sovereigns in question have been rather different:

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.

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.

Clearly, there is a difference now in singing a song of praise for the Emperor.

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 required 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.

Which raises the question, is loyalty to the Emperor what constitutes a good citizen?

Next time: what Japanese people think - or don't - when singing the anthem.

Irrational Women

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:

"It is a mistake for him to use cold reasoning to overcome anything which he cannot understand in his wife."

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.

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.

And people in the US complain about biases in SAT questions!

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).