So I was writing Christmas cards for all of my JTE's (Japanese Teachers of English), and I got stuck on one. He is a new teacher, and very young (23. One year younger than me. But he's SO YOUNG). He looks like he could be one of my students - he's one of those J-guys (J- is a gaijin abbreviation for Japanese) that seem to look as if they're 10-20 years younger than they really are. I doesn't help that he's shorter than I am. One day I was standing next to him and realized that if we were playing hockey, I could totally hip check him in the ribcage. He's scared to death of me - every time I speak to him, his eyes get really wide and he looks around for the other JTE's so they can translate for him. He's an English teacher, but he's embarrassed about how bad his English is, so he hates to speak English. He's passive and a bit of a wuss. But he's sweet in a little kid kind of way, so I like him even if I get frustrated with him a lot. I think a good nickname for his would be Mr. Passivity.
So as I was trying to write his Christmas card, I couldn't actually think of anything to write inside of it. Everytime I tried to think of what to write, the only thing that entered my head was, "Dear I-sensei, Grow some balls. -Jessica" I eventually did manage to write something other than that, but I concentrated on every word I wrote just in case those other words were going to spring unbidden onto the page.
As an update of sorts (this is about a week after I was writing the cards):
I sort of got my Christmas wish! Mr. Passivity almost grew some balls for once. They were heavily lubricated (get your minds out of the gutters, people!) with alcohol, though, so I don't know if that really counts... At the bonenkai (end of the year party) tonight, M-sensei and I were leaving after the first party. Passivity sensei asked if I was coming to the second party, and I said that I was sorry, but I had to get up early tomorrow to go on a trip with another teacher (it was the truth - I wasn't lying). After a pause, he said, "I have to be in Yamaguchi tomorrow morning. At 7:40. What time do you go?" Now that may not sound like much, but he's Japanese, so you have to translate that correctly. What he really said was, "So what, you wuss! I'm getting up at 5:30 in the frickin' morning, and I'll have a hangover, and I'm STILL going to the second party. What's your excuse?" Yes, Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus. I was so proud of him, I wanted to hug him! He even said it in a slightly different tone than normal. I wouldn't say an aggressive tone becuase I'm not entirely certain that he's capable of that, but he at least attempted it. I politely refused to go again, but I kind of wanted to, if for nothing else than to see him acting like he's got a pair.
Friday, December 22, 2006
On School Assemblies and Other Things That Motivate People to Count Ceiling Tiles
I hate school assemblies. They are long, boring, and a waste of everyone`s time, including my own. And my time is valuable. Every minute I`m in an assembly is a minute that could be spent sleeping in the teachers room. We had a school assembly today in order to prepare students for Winter Break. Pretty much the gist of it was, “be good over break, study hard, don`t have too much fun.” The students listened to the principals`s speech, which was thankfully shorter than normal (only 10 minutes of nonsense this time instead of the usual 20!), then they gathered to say the school pledge or whatever and sing the school song. After that, they got up to sing a random song, the point of which I`m not entirely certain. More speeches by other students (long, boring, pointless speeches), and I was thinking I was home free after only 40 minutes. I was fairly frigid at this point (no central/indoor heating in Japan, so the gym was about 35-40 degrees). Then they called in “The Talker.” The Talker is a guy who loves the sound of his own voice. He talks all the time, just for the sake of talking. I don`t know if he actually says anything helpful or instructive. I just know it`s usually fairly long. He`s sort of like the evil twin of the energizer bunny. He never quits, even though I wish he would sometimes. He talked for over 15 minutes. And the students are required to sit attentively the whole time, looking as if they are enraptured in his words. In reality, they are probably trying to figure out what the first stage of frostbite looks like and if that numb sensation in their feet and hands is something they should be concerned about. I was quite awake and perky until he started talking – once he started speaking, though, my will to live was sucked right out of me. I was almost asleep at several points in his riveting speech, and was jerked back to awareness by him yelling some phrase or another (he likes to yell, too). I have never been so happy to hear someone ask students to stand up, as it signaled the end of his monopoly on the microphone. I think I`m just going to abuse my privileges as a foreigner and walk out next time he starts to talk at an assembly.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
On Learning the Native Language
So I had fun with Japanese today at my base school. I was looking at I-sensei's papers and noticed he made a grammar mistake. I fixed it, then felt bad. He's studying English really hard, and I'm not studying Japanese. So I got motivated to study Japanese. When we got back to the teachers room, I started studying my Japanese book and got quite far. Towards the end fo the day, though, I came across something that confused me. Basic explanation. In my Japanese class at Owens, sensei (and the textbook) taught us that "benkyo o shimasu" is "to study" or "I study". The books that JET gives us, though, says it should be "benkyo shimasu". So I asked my head English teacher which was right. She thought about it and said both phrases quite a few times, but she couldn't figure out the difference. She asked the science teacher sitting across from her. Both teahcers started saying both phrases and were both getting confused. The principal walked by at that time, and overheard them, so he asked what was up, and my English teacher explained. So he started trying to think which was phrase was better (it should be noted that it's VERY hard for a non-native Japanese speaker to hear the difference between the two phrases, so it almost sounded like they were just repeating some sort of odd mantra about studying). The Vice Principal then came over to see what was up, and he joined in with his INCREDIBLY loud voice. The art teacher wandered up the aisle trying to get to his desk and got caught up in it, too. To make a long story short, eventually we had about 10 people crammed in the small aisle between my English teacher and I. Quite fun. And the teachers never came to a consensus about which was more accurate. They even asked a Japanese teacher, and she wasn't sure. The confusion lasted for about 15 minutes.
I eventually looked up at the principal and said, in a very exasperated way, "benkyo o shimasen (I do NOT study)" and closed my book, slamming it on my desk. He laughed and said "benkyo shimasen"?. I rolled my eyes (in retrospect, rolling your eyes at your boss is probably not the best idea I ever had, but he laughed because I was attempting to use Japanese to express my frustration) and said, "Nihongo wa muzukashii, ne? Eigo was yasai" (which I thought meant "Japanese is hard, right? English is easy" but which ACTUALLY meant "Japanese is hard, English is a vegetable". I think he understood what I meant.) After laughing, he put on a serious face and said, "Hai. Nihongo wa totemo muzukashii desu. Ganbatte." ("Yes, Japanese is very difficult. Good luck.") I smiled and then put my book in the trashcan, saying, "yaku ni tatanai" (useless!). He laughed and agreed that that was where it belonged.
Now I'm rather discouraged about learning Japanese. If even the native speakers have no clue what's going on, how do I have any hope of learning it? On the other hand, I did manage to be slightly cheeky, bordering on sarcastic, using only a few, simple words. So maybe there is hope yet.
I eventually looked up at the principal and said, in a very exasperated way, "benkyo o shimasen (I do NOT study)" and closed my book, slamming it on my desk. He laughed and said "benkyo shimasen"?. I rolled my eyes (in retrospect, rolling your eyes at your boss is probably not the best idea I ever had, but he laughed because I was attempting to use Japanese to express my frustration) and said, "Nihongo wa muzukashii, ne? Eigo was yasai" (which I thought meant "Japanese is hard, right? English is easy" but which ACTUALLY meant "Japanese is hard, English is a vegetable". I think he understood what I meant.) After laughing, he put on a serious face and said, "Hai. Nihongo wa totemo muzukashii desu. Ganbatte." ("Yes, Japanese is very difficult. Good luck.") I smiled and then put my book in the trashcan, saying, "yaku ni tatanai" (useless!). He laughed and agreed that that was where it belonged.
Now I'm rather discouraged about learning Japanese. If even the native speakers have no clue what's going on, how do I have any hope of learning it? On the other hand, I did manage to be slightly cheeky, bordering on sarcastic, using only a few, simple words. So maybe there is hope yet.
Monday, December 11, 2006
On Choosing Your Words Carefully
On my lesson plan for today, the teacher said, "The AET will teach students American hand gestures, asking 'Do you know what this means?" I don't know about you guys, but any of the first 5 gestures that came into my head upon reading that would get my kids shot in downtown L.A.
Sorry I haven't updated much. I have loads more to write about, but I have an early morning tomorrow. This weekend will be my first free weekend in quite some time, so I will hopefully have time to add more updates then.
Sorry I haven't updated much. I have loads more to write about, but I have an early morning tomorrow. This weekend will be my first free weekend in quite some time, so I will hopefully have time to add more updates then.
Friday, December 01, 2006
On the True Meaning of Christmas
Haven't updated in awhile, so I thought I'd throw something quick up here.
Today in class, we were playing a "describing game." We divided the room into 2 teams, then I would describe a person, place, or thing to the students and they had to figure out what I was describing. The last question was supposed to be hard, and the teacher told me to describe Santa Claus in a very vague way. So I said, "This is a person. It's a man. He is old. He has a white beard (hair on your face) and white hair. He delivers presents." The students whispered amongst themselves to try to figure out who I was talking about. One student turned and looked at me. "Osama bin Laden?" she asked.
I fear that my student's Christmas cards will read: A very Merry Christmas and a happy Jihad to all.
Today in class, we were playing a "describing game." We divided the room into 2 teams, then I would describe a person, place, or thing to the students and they had to figure out what I was describing. The last question was supposed to be hard, and the teacher told me to describe Santa Claus in a very vague way. So I said, "This is a person. It's a man. He is old. He has a white beard (hair on your face) and white hair. He delivers presents." The students whispered amongst themselves to try to figure out who I was talking about. One student turned and looked at me. "Osama bin Laden?" she asked.
I fear that my student's Christmas cards will read: A very Merry Christmas and a happy Jihad to all.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
On Being a Model Teacher
On Tuesday, I had to teach a "model lesson" with my main English teacher at my base school. This did not involve swimsuits are speeches about world peace, as I had originally thought it would. Apparently we were doing a "model lesson" to show other teachers how lessons are supposed to work. Or something like that. I'm still not entirely sure. All I know is that my teacher was flipping out for about a month before the lesson. Everytime I came to the base school, she'd rush up to me and let me know that she had changed the lesson again. Eventually, I stopped looking at the changes she made, knowing that they'd be changed in another two days. The weekend before lesson, she came to my house on Sunday to talk about the lesson. It was really just a normal lesson, with more planning and stress put into it. I kept on telling her that she'd be fine and not to worry, but she was almost in tears at one point. She's been teaching at the same school for ten years and was just transferred to this school in April (the school year begins in April in Japan. Teachers will usually teach at a school for 5 years, then get transferred to another school in their city or prefecture. From what I hear, she was at her old school so long because she kept going on maternity leave, so to complete her 5 years, she had to stay for somethign around 10).
While I had originally thought this school was full of very kind people and the principal was super-nice, I now found out that there were currents of unhappiness going through my base school. Apparently, the principal came to one of the English teacher's classes the other week and yelled at her and the students for being too loud. He later told the English teacher that her students test scores were too low (in Japan, written test scores are EVERYTHING. This is why you will have students who can read a book in English but can't say hello) and that she needed to get them higher and stop doing so many activities with the students. Now, if you know about how American teachers are trained, this is completely reversed. It's all about doing activities to give students "hands on experience" and "real life learning". Anywho, since then, my English teacher said she's totally lost her confidence. She used to think she could plan a lesson well, but now she feels as if she's a bad teacher. Sorry, that was a long rant, but I had to get that down.
So on Tuesday, I came to school, and SURPRISE, she'd changed the lesson again. :-) Poor woman. There are 3 second-year (8th grade) classes in my base school. The model lesson was to happen the period directly after lunch, but we had a chance to teach it to another class the period before lunch. Unfortunately, we didn't get through the whole lesson, so we had to modify it. Again. I wasn't really nervous, as I knew my job really wouldn't be effected by the outcome of this lesson. My English teacher was a wreck. She had to go to the bathroom several times, said her stomach hurt a lot, and I bet she didn't eat lunch at all. I felt so bad for her. Finally Dday arrived and we went up to the classroom. There was a row of chairs in the back for the other teachers to sit in. We started class as normal. Once our greetings were over, some of the teachers began to trickle in the classroom (all the other classes were doing seatwork or something on their own, since all the teachers were watching this lesson). After that, class went fairly normally. I noticed a lot of the teachers taking notes in the back of the room. Class went well. It ended. We went back to the teachers room. I was relaxing. Ten minutes later, my English teacher asked me if I was ready to go. Go where? Oh, she forgot to tell me. There would be a special meeting to talk about the lesson. Great.
So I scrambled to get my stuff for the meeting. I brought my Japanese/English dictionary and my notebook, notes, and pencil. The meeting was an hour and a half of Japanese I couldn't understand. And it sounded like my English teacher was explaining the lesson a lot, so she couldn't translate for me. The first half hour consisted of the other teachers asking her quetsions. The next hour was the Vice Principal at a random high school in my city. I guess he was like the guest observer who was going to impart his wisdom on us. He liked his voice. He used it for an hour. It was a very serious meeting. Everyone was taking notes and listening intently. I, too, was taking notes. The words puke, asshole, and dingbat are not in my dictionary. Vomit, burp, belch, ass (donkey only, sadly), butt, armpit, feces (that was surprising - I had to respell it 3 times to find it), and poop are. I was quite happy. I'm so glad no one could speak/read English near me. If they could have read and understood my notes, I'm pretty sure I'd be in trouble. But I know that I'm not the only one who was seriously bored. The art teacher was staring at this guy after he'd been talking for about 45 minutes. He had a look on his face that clearly said, "I can't believe this guy is still talking. This is boring. This is really, really boring. I think he's even boring himself. I'm about to pound my head on this table to make the pain stop." I just hope no one was watching me. Between my junior-high boyesque way of looking up dirty words in the dictionary, my yawning, and the time I almost let out a drool stream while yawning, I would have been interesting to watch. "Hey, what's the gaijin doing? She looks bored. She's scribbling stuff in her notebook. She's blinking awfully slowly. She's yawning. She's looking at the clock. She's standing up. She's heading towards the window. She opened the window. Hey, wait! This is the second floor. She isn't going to- Yup, she jumped. She's landing on the ground and rolling. She's running into the teacher's room. She's running out with her stuff. She's backing her car into the ornamental statue. She's running over our decorative plants. She's peeling out of the driveway."
While I had originally thought this school was full of very kind people and the principal was super-nice, I now found out that there were currents of unhappiness going through my base school. Apparently, the principal came to one of the English teacher's classes the other week and yelled at her and the students for being too loud. He later told the English teacher that her students test scores were too low (in Japan, written test scores are EVERYTHING. This is why you will have students who can read a book in English but can't say hello) and that she needed to get them higher and stop doing so many activities with the students. Now, if you know about how American teachers are trained, this is completely reversed. It's all about doing activities to give students "hands on experience" and "real life learning". Anywho, since then, my English teacher said she's totally lost her confidence. She used to think she could plan a lesson well, but now she feels as if she's a bad teacher. Sorry, that was a long rant, but I had to get that down.
So on Tuesday, I came to school, and SURPRISE, she'd changed the lesson again. :-) Poor woman. There are 3 second-year (8th grade) classes in my base school. The model lesson was to happen the period directly after lunch, but we had a chance to teach it to another class the period before lunch. Unfortunately, we didn't get through the whole lesson, so we had to modify it. Again. I wasn't really nervous, as I knew my job really wouldn't be effected by the outcome of this lesson. My English teacher was a wreck. She had to go to the bathroom several times, said her stomach hurt a lot, and I bet she didn't eat lunch at all. I felt so bad for her. Finally Dday arrived and we went up to the classroom. There was a row of chairs in the back for the other teachers to sit in. We started class as normal. Once our greetings were over, some of the teachers began to trickle in the classroom (all the other classes were doing seatwork or something on their own, since all the teachers were watching this lesson). After that, class went fairly normally. I noticed a lot of the teachers taking notes in the back of the room. Class went well. It ended. We went back to the teachers room. I was relaxing. Ten minutes later, my English teacher asked me if I was ready to go. Go where? Oh, she forgot to tell me. There would be a special meeting to talk about the lesson. Great.
So I scrambled to get my stuff for the meeting. I brought my Japanese/English dictionary and my notebook, notes, and pencil. The meeting was an hour and a half of Japanese I couldn't understand. And it sounded like my English teacher was explaining the lesson a lot, so she couldn't translate for me. The first half hour consisted of the other teachers asking her quetsions. The next hour was the Vice Principal at a random high school in my city. I guess he was like the guest observer who was going to impart his wisdom on us. He liked his voice. He used it for an hour. It was a very serious meeting. Everyone was taking notes and listening intently. I, too, was taking notes. The words puke, asshole, and dingbat are not in my dictionary. Vomit, burp, belch, ass (donkey only, sadly), butt, armpit, feces (that was surprising - I had to respell it 3 times to find it), and poop are. I was quite happy. I'm so glad no one could speak/read English near me. If they could have read and understood my notes, I'm pretty sure I'd be in trouble. But I know that I'm not the only one who was seriously bored. The art teacher was staring at this guy after he'd been talking for about 45 minutes. He had a look on his face that clearly said, "I can't believe this guy is still talking. This is boring. This is really, really boring. I think he's even boring himself. I'm about to pound my head on this table to make the pain stop." I just hope no one was watching me. Between my junior-high boyesque way of looking up dirty words in the dictionary, my yawning, and the time I almost let out a drool stream while yawning, I would have been interesting to watch. "Hey, what's the gaijin doing? She looks bored. She's scribbling stuff in her notebook. She's blinking awfully slowly. She's yawning. She's looking at the clock. She's standing up. She's heading towards the window. She opened the window. Hey, wait! This is the second floor. She isn't going to- Yup, she jumped. She's landing on the ground and rolling. She's running into the teacher's room. She's running out with her stuff. She's backing her car into the ornamental statue. She's running over our decorative plants. She's peeling out of the driveway."
Friday, November 17, 2006
On Embarrassment and Teenage Nudity
Okay, so I think I had the most embarrassing moment of my life today. Well, maybe not, but close. In between classes, my dorky teacher (whom I have decided to nickname "Freddy", as he loves Queen) said he was going to stay in the classroom for the next class. I said I was going to run down to the teacher's room to get a drink and be right back up. So I went down, got a drink, and came back up. When I was about to go in the classroom, Hayashida-kun (a student who always sort of jokes around with me) jumped infront of the door and said "No no no! You can't go in!". I thought he was joking, so I asked why, but he just looked confused. I said, "I can go in the back door if I can't go through this one" (the classroom has 2 doors, and both were open). He started to walk towards the back door, so I slipped in the front door. I heard some boys yell something, so I looked up and noticed why Hayashida had said I shouldn't go in. You see, it was after gym class, and the boys change in the classroom. Yea. Usually they shut the doors and pull the curtain infront of it, but they hadn't today. About one second of a glance told me that I definitely should NOT be in the room (though I only saw a brief glimpse of some boys with their shirts off - nothing below the belt so to speak). I rushed in, grabbed my books that I had left on the desk, and rushed out again. Wow. Talk about embarrassing for both me and the students. And Freddy didn't warn me that they would be changing or anything. He knew I was coming right back, and yet he let them keep the doors open. If I were a more suspicious person, I would wonder if he did that on purpose. I was blushing madly for the rest of the day any time I saw a second-year boy. And since these schools are so small, I KNOW that all the students know what happened. Dangit. So embarrassing. A lot of the third year boys went out of their way to say hello to me loudly today after that. I really have to wonder why...
This has not been a red letter day.
This has not been a red letter day.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
The first new post on the blog
Right, so this will be my very first new post - everything else was repeating info that went out in emails. Hurrah.
ON EXCESSIVE SNOT
I've noticed that many Japanese people do not wash their hands often. My students will go through morning classes, eat lunch, go to the bathroom, clean their classrooms, and participate in clubs/sports, all without washing their hands. And it's not just the students, it's the teachers, too. I kind of expect it from students - many American students don't wash their hands, either. But usually by the time they reach adulthood, most people at least make the attempt to cleanse their hands, even if they just run their hands under water. Not here. They don't even pretend. They just leave the bathroom with no pretense of washing their hands. When I reported this to my mom, she pointed out that many American doctors say that Americans are over-anxious about washing their hands; in fact, many doctors say that washing your hands TOO frequently can kill good bacteria as well as bad bacteria. This causes me to be slighty suspicious, as I had always, perhaps falsely, assumed that bacteria is...well...bacteria. Isn't it ALL bad for you? Apparently not. With this in mind, mom said she would be interested to see how many people in my offices get sick during the winter. Now admittedly, it is hard to wash your hands during the winter, as the school bathrooms don't have hot and cold water taps - you only have one option for handwashing at school: pipe temperature. Ah, nothing as refreshing as running your hands under 35 degree water to really help hypothermia set in.
The question of how many of my coworkers would fall ill was quickly and easily answered. A week into the start of winter, the majority of my schools' teachers room's sounded like TB wards. I would come in to school and wonder what new and interesting version of whooping cough my teachers would have contracted for that day. If it wasn't the coughing, it was the sniffing (anyone who truly, truly knows me can visualize the shudder that just went down my spine when I wrote that). The Japanese in general do not like to blow their noses in public. I've heard several different reasons for why this is true, and I'm not sure which one to believe. I have, however, observed many times that most of my coworkers would rather consume a live howler monkey than blow their nose in public. At first I thought the sniffing was a crude attempt to catch the flies that are constantly buzzing around the staff room like a Biblical plague. After the coughing and sneezing started, though, I had to acknowledge that everyone in my office was becoming ill (perhaps another type of Biblical plague?). Except me. By the grace of God (and perhaps with a lot of pig lard), I managed to stay relatively healthy. Every once in a while, my nose would twitch a little and I would quickly trot to the restroom to blow my nose. I have never, and I will repeat this, NEVER blown my nose in the teachers room at any of my schools. Which is why I am always surprised that my trashcans at every school are always full of tissues. I have absolutely no idea why, but it seems like everytime I leave the teachers room, I come back to find no less than 3 new tissues have taken root in my wastebasket. At first I developed elaborate theories of snotaneous life, but eventually I realized that I was looking at the evidence of how sneaky my teachers truly are. See, they think: "Hmmm...no one in the teachers room right now. I could blow my nose to relieve myself of this buildup of snot which has required the strength of the Hoover Dam and suction power of a Hoover to keep in for the last 3 hours. But man, if I blow my nose and put the used tissue in my trashcan, everyone will know I blew my nose in public. And even if I do it when no one is in the room, they'll still see the tissue and know I did it. *pause as they peer towards my desk* But the AET...well, she's just a gaijin, right? Everyone KNOWS that gaijin are disgusting and do silly things, so they'll figure that she blew her nose in the teachers room because she doesn't know any better!" In every school I go to, the trashcan nearest to me always has tissues. If you look in the other trashcans, they will doubtlessly have no tissues anywhere in or near them. Mine is always chalkfull. I have visions of teachers waiting until I turn my back, then happily hurling wads of snotty tissues into my trash. I have to wonder what the students who clean the teachers room think of me. They are probably developing elaborate theories about how much snot is in a foreign body.
ON EXCESSIVE SNOT
I've noticed that many Japanese people do not wash their hands often. My students will go through morning classes, eat lunch, go to the bathroom, clean their classrooms, and participate in clubs/sports, all without washing their hands. And it's not just the students, it's the teachers, too. I kind of expect it from students - many American students don't wash their hands, either. But usually by the time they reach adulthood, most people at least make the attempt to cleanse their hands, even if they just run their hands under water. Not here. They don't even pretend. They just leave the bathroom with no pretense of washing their hands. When I reported this to my mom, she pointed out that many American doctors say that Americans are over-anxious about washing their hands; in fact, many doctors say that washing your hands TOO frequently can kill good bacteria as well as bad bacteria. This causes me to be slighty suspicious, as I had always, perhaps falsely, assumed that bacteria is...well...bacteria. Isn't it ALL bad for you? Apparently not. With this in mind, mom said she would be interested to see how many people in my offices get sick during the winter. Now admittedly, it is hard to wash your hands during the winter, as the school bathrooms don't have hot and cold water taps - you only have one option for handwashing at school: pipe temperature. Ah, nothing as refreshing as running your hands under 35 degree water to really help hypothermia set in.
The question of how many of my coworkers would fall ill was quickly and easily answered. A week into the start of winter, the majority of my schools' teachers room's sounded like TB wards. I would come in to school and wonder what new and interesting version of whooping cough my teachers would have contracted for that day. If it wasn't the coughing, it was the sniffing (anyone who truly, truly knows me can visualize the shudder that just went down my spine when I wrote that). The Japanese in general do not like to blow their noses in public. I've heard several different reasons for why this is true, and I'm not sure which one to believe. I have, however, observed many times that most of my coworkers would rather consume a live howler monkey than blow their nose in public. At first I thought the sniffing was a crude attempt to catch the flies that are constantly buzzing around the staff room like a Biblical plague. After the coughing and sneezing started, though, I had to acknowledge that everyone in my office was becoming ill (perhaps another type of Biblical plague?). Except me. By the grace of God (and perhaps with a lot of pig lard), I managed to stay relatively healthy. Every once in a while, my nose would twitch a little and I would quickly trot to the restroom to blow my nose. I have never, and I will repeat this, NEVER blown my nose in the teachers room at any of my schools. Which is why I am always surprised that my trashcans at every school are always full of tissues. I have absolutely no idea why, but it seems like everytime I leave the teachers room, I come back to find no less than 3 new tissues have taken root in my wastebasket. At first I developed elaborate theories of snotaneous life, but eventually I realized that I was looking at the evidence of how sneaky my teachers truly are. See, they think: "Hmmm...no one in the teachers room right now. I could blow my nose to relieve myself of this buildup of snot which has required the strength of the Hoover Dam and suction power of a Hoover to keep in for the last 3 hours. But man, if I blow my nose and put the used tissue in my trashcan, everyone will know I blew my nose in public. And even if I do it when no one is in the room, they'll still see the tissue and know I did it. *pause as they peer towards my desk* But the AET...well, she's just a gaijin, right? Everyone KNOWS that gaijin are disgusting and do silly things, so they'll figure that she blew her nose in the teachers room because she doesn't know any better!" In every school I go to, the trashcan nearest to me always has tissues. If you look in the other trashcans, they will doubtlessly have no tissues anywhere in or near them. Mine is always chalkfull. I have visions of teachers waiting until I turn my back, then happily hurling wads of snotty tissues into my trash. I have to wonder what the students who clean the teachers room think of me. They are probably developing elaborate theories about how much snot is in a foreign body.
Monday, November 06, 2006
ON THINGS THAT SHOULD NOT BE
So I saw a kid (anyone under 18 is dubbed a "kid" in my mind) on a moped today. Nothing new. When you turn 16 in Japan, you can get a moped/scooter license, though you can’t drive a car until you’re 18. This moped was…different, though. It had bigger tires than most mopeds, it had a speaker (or something - somehow music was coming from it), it was painted purple. I guess the only way to describe his scooter is to say that it was pimped out. I didn't even know it was possible to pimp out a scooter, but somehow this kid did it. He pimped out his scooter. There is one sentence that I have never even fathomed I would EVER have a reason to...well, to even imagine or give frame to. Who pimps out a scooter? In my head, as I was passing him while he was soaring down the road at 20 km/h (what is that in mph? like -2 or something?), I had a conversation with this kid. "Kid, you may think you're cool, but you're not. You may wear your uniform collar up and unbutton the top button, but let's face it: a uniform is just not a cool thing. You may ‘pimp out’ your ‘fly ride’ and make it ‘hard for the ladies to resist,’ but let's face it: you still drive a scooter, and scooters are just not cool. And you may think you're a big man, that you're cool because you can drive, that you're a rebel since you dye your hair a light shade of brown, that you're hip and happening. But let's face it: you're 16, and that's just not cool."
ON NEIGHBORS
So I think the kid across the street thinks I’m insane. I’ve noticed lately that he stares at me as I go to and from my car and to the dumpster across the street from me. He’s probably about 6 or 7 years old, and he just stares and occasionally smiles. I’ll smile at him, then go about my business. I always think he goes away, so I’ll feel free to start muttering to myself (things get stuck in my car, going over what I need to do, letting out general frustration). Suddenly, I’ll look up, and he’ll still be there, staring at me. And this is like 2 or 3 minutes later. He just stares. And I KNOW he’s thinking something like, “Foreigners ARE crazy” or something like that. And I don’t think I’m helping matters. I just smile at him, wave sometimes, and continue on my merry way, hoping I do not prove to be his family’s topic of conversation at the dinner table. “Mom, guess what the gaijin (foreigner) did today?”
I’m learning that kids in Japan can be like that, though. The other day in the store, a young mother came in with 3 kids under the age of 5. They saw me and immediately started saying, “Gaijin, gaijin!” I smiled and tried to not look scary. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have, as it only encouraged them. For the next 15 minutes, I had the pleasure of being followed, neigh, stalked, around my small local convenience store by a 5-year-old, a 4-year-old, and a 3-year-old. Every time I went anywhere, they’d follow me. And anytime I’d pick up anything, they’d gasp, and one would be sent running to tell their mother what the gaijin had just picked up or put in her basket. Sometimes, they would skip the formality of running and just bellow across the store. “Okaasan! (Mom) The gaijin is getting milk! Gaijins like milk! Now the gaijin is getting rice. Gaijins can eat rice!!” I was tempted to really blow their minds and start picking up random crap from every aisle. “Mom, the gaijin is picking up prunes! And dog food! And a hammer! And maxi pads! And diapers! And floor lint!”
ON BEING YUMEINA (famous)
On a side note, everyone in town knows who I am and what I do. At a restaurant, one of the waitresses mentioned to some of the people I was with that she knew who I was. They were talking and I mentioned that I had been to an island for an English camp, and she immediately volunteered the name of the camp and said she'd read about me going to it. I am getting slightly concerned that maybe people know other things. The papers probably have headlines like, "Gaijin Sensei Goes Poo in Squatting Toilet For First Time Ever. No Mess Reported On Scene." I need to learn Japanese so I can read what they're writing about me.
ON THE JOYS OF FOREIGN FOOD
If someone tries to get me to eat sashimi (raw fish) ONCE MORE, I WILL create an international incident. Just a fair warning. I had a Welcome Party for Y-gakko’s the other night, and a few days later, I went out with one of my Adult Conversation classes. Both times, there was sashimi. (Cultural note: at these parties, we don’t actually have full course meals. They order many little appetizer type things, and we all eat a little. So at one party, we may order up to 15 dishes, and there will be just enough food for everyone to try 1 or 2 of everything). For me, eating raw fish is no good (the taste isn't what gets me - it's the consistency). I am so ready for Fear Factor after all this - I have learned to tone down my gag reflex. I pretend I'm a seagull gulping things down whole. Raw fish. Yuck. If God had intended for us to eat raw fish...um...uh...He wouldn't have let us discover fire. Yeah. That makes sense, right?
As an addition to the above paragraph (this is now several weeks later), I would like to say that I should have realized there were far worse things than raw fish. I was at yet another welcome party (all right, already. I feel welcomed enough, dangitall!). At this one, they were actually trying to be culturally sensitive and ordered some “American” food (no matter what they say, though, no American pizza I have eaten has ever included hot dogs, red and green peppers, and tomatoes). They also insisted I try some Japanese food, though, so I gamely went along with my newly established rule in Japan of “try anything once.” Everyone hits a certain point in their life, though, where they become a rebel and break some rules. I hit this point when a new dish was brought out to me. Basashi. It looked like thin slices of raw beef. I just knew in the back of my mind what this really was. I had heard rumors that Japanese people ate this. Putting all cultural sensitivity aside, I had to put my foot down. I know when it’s time to re-evaluate my life choices, and that time came when someone tried to serve me a plate of raw Mr. Ed.
So I saw a kid (anyone under 18 is dubbed a "kid" in my mind) on a moped today. Nothing new. When you turn 16 in Japan, you can get a moped/scooter license, though you can’t drive a car until you’re 18. This moped was…different, though. It had bigger tires than most mopeds, it had a speaker (or something - somehow music was coming from it), it was painted purple. I guess the only way to describe his scooter is to say that it was pimped out. I didn't even know it was possible to pimp out a scooter, but somehow this kid did it. He pimped out his scooter. There is one sentence that I have never even fathomed I would EVER have a reason to...well, to even imagine or give frame to. Who pimps out a scooter? In my head, as I was passing him while he was soaring down the road at 20 km/h (what is that in mph? like -2 or something?), I had a conversation with this kid. "Kid, you may think you're cool, but you're not. You may wear your uniform collar up and unbutton the top button, but let's face it: a uniform is just not a cool thing. You may ‘pimp out’ your ‘fly ride’ and make it ‘hard for the ladies to resist,’ but let's face it: you still drive a scooter, and scooters are just not cool. And you may think you're a big man, that you're cool because you can drive, that you're a rebel since you dye your hair a light shade of brown, that you're hip and happening. But let's face it: you're 16, and that's just not cool."
ON NEIGHBORS
So I think the kid across the street thinks I’m insane. I’ve noticed lately that he stares at me as I go to and from my car and to the dumpster across the street from me. He’s probably about 6 or 7 years old, and he just stares and occasionally smiles. I’ll smile at him, then go about my business. I always think he goes away, so I’ll feel free to start muttering to myself (things get stuck in my car, going over what I need to do, letting out general frustration). Suddenly, I’ll look up, and he’ll still be there, staring at me. And this is like 2 or 3 minutes later. He just stares. And I KNOW he’s thinking something like, “Foreigners ARE crazy” or something like that. And I don’t think I’m helping matters. I just smile at him, wave sometimes, and continue on my merry way, hoping I do not prove to be his family’s topic of conversation at the dinner table. “Mom, guess what the gaijin (foreigner) did today?”
I’m learning that kids in Japan can be like that, though. The other day in the store, a young mother came in with 3 kids under the age of 5. They saw me and immediately started saying, “Gaijin, gaijin!” I smiled and tried to not look scary. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have, as it only encouraged them. For the next 15 minutes, I had the pleasure of being followed, neigh, stalked, around my small local convenience store by a 5-year-old, a 4-year-old, and a 3-year-old. Every time I went anywhere, they’d follow me. And anytime I’d pick up anything, they’d gasp, and one would be sent running to tell their mother what the gaijin had just picked up or put in her basket. Sometimes, they would skip the formality of running and just bellow across the store. “Okaasan! (Mom) The gaijin is getting milk! Gaijins like milk! Now the gaijin is getting rice. Gaijins can eat rice!!” I was tempted to really blow their minds and start picking up random crap from every aisle. “Mom, the gaijin is picking up prunes! And dog food! And a hammer! And maxi pads! And diapers! And floor lint!”
ON BEING YUMEINA (famous)
On a side note, everyone in town knows who I am and what I do. At a restaurant, one of the waitresses mentioned to some of the people I was with that she knew who I was. They were talking and I mentioned that I had been to an island for an English camp, and she immediately volunteered the name of the camp and said she'd read about me going to it. I am getting slightly concerned that maybe people know other things. The papers probably have headlines like, "Gaijin Sensei Goes Poo in Squatting Toilet For First Time Ever. No Mess Reported On Scene." I need to learn Japanese so I can read what they're writing about me.
ON THE JOYS OF FOREIGN FOOD
If someone tries to get me to eat sashimi (raw fish) ONCE MORE, I WILL create an international incident. Just a fair warning. I had a Welcome Party for Y-gakko’s the other night, and a few days later, I went out with one of my Adult Conversation classes. Both times, there was sashimi. (Cultural note: at these parties, we don’t actually have full course meals. They order many little appetizer type things, and we all eat a little. So at one party, we may order up to 15 dishes, and there will be just enough food for everyone to try 1 or 2 of everything). For me, eating raw fish is no good (the taste isn't what gets me - it's the consistency). I am so ready for Fear Factor after all this - I have learned to tone down my gag reflex. I pretend I'm a seagull gulping things down whole. Raw fish. Yuck. If God had intended for us to eat raw fish...um...uh...He wouldn't have let us discover fire. Yeah. That makes sense, right?
As an addition to the above paragraph (this is now several weeks later), I would like to say that I should have realized there were far worse things than raw fish. I was at yet another welcome party (all right, already. I feel welcomed enough, dangitall!). At this one, they were actually trying to be culturally sensitive and ordered some “American” food (no matter what they say, though, no American pizza I have eaten has ever included hot dogs, red and green peppers, and tomatoes). They also insisted I try some Japanese food, though, so I gamely went along with my newly established rule in Japan of “try anything once.” Everyone hits a certain point in their life, though, where they become a rebel and break some rules. I hit this point when a new dish was brought out to me. Basashi. It looked like thin slices of raw beef. I just knew in the back of my mind what this really was. I had heard rumors that Japanese people ate this. Putting all cultural sensitivity aside, I had to put my foot down. I know when it’s time to re-evaluate my life choices, and that time came when someone tried to serve me a plate of raw Mr. Ed.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
ON GAIJIN POWERS
There is a website from another JET that is widely popular. In it, he mentions having gained certain “Gaijin (foreigner) Powers”, many of which are silly things that happen to most Gaijins. I have found that I do possess one Gaijin power – the power of Gaijin Narcolepsy. I have the power to look at anyone on a train, and, if they are looking at me, they are immediately struck with a strong bout of narcolepsy. It’s amazing. I’ll look up, catch someone’s eye, and their head falls to their chest, their eyes close, and they cease all movement. I think it’s better than Nyquil. I should try to patent it over here.
ON GENKI
JET's have taken it and morphed it into many different particles of speech. It can be a verb - "I am genki", it can be a noun - "Get your genki on!" – it can be an adjective “I was genki happy today”, etc. Genki is being happy, lively, energetic, perky, cheerful, upbeat, positive - all wrapped into one evil, hateful, horrible ball of malevolence.
ON BEING TERRIFYING
So I’ve never met an adult that was so petrified of me that they were almost crying. Until I came to Japan, that is. At my Welcome Party, I just had to laugh as I watched people down alcohol just so they’d have the courage to come talk to me. It was absolutely hilarious that they needed to drink to even feel brave enough to come speak to me. I was strangely, oddly honored by this. Japan is messing with my brain, I guess. But it is really hard for them to come speak to me in English, and they were trying to work up the courage. It was touching and amusing and really, really bizarre. Eventually, this one timid young woman came up with one of my OL’s. She was visibly shaking and kept looking at the OL and giggling. She handed me a card, and I asked if I could open it. She mimed that I could and said, “Yes”. Her voice was shaking. Poor girl. The card was an anniversary card that said, “On your Anniversary: This anniversary card is perfect for you, because it’s special and different from the rest…just like you two!” Inside, she wrote: “X-SAN – Let me introduce myself! My name is K T. I like chocorate so my nickname was “choco” in high school. My hometown is Y-city. Y-gakko’s junior high school is my alma mater. I study English now. I want to speak with you. But I am little shy. So I can’t talk to you. Could you talk with me sometime from now on? YOROSHIKU ONEGAISHIMASU. from K” She was so scared. I told her that I was shy, too, so it’s okay. We talked a little (her English was VERY good), and she said she would be picking me up for work on Wednesday (she almost started crying at this point. Her eyes were red and I could see tears forming). She explained that some of the OL’s went to Australia this May, and that’s where she got the card. I said several times how nice the card was and how cute it was, and how much I liked and appreciated it. I told her to not be shy, that I wanted to talk to her, too, etc. I kept saying, “Don’t be shy. It’s okay!” I was so relieved to talk to her, though. Being at the table with all the important guys who didn’t speak English was making me very, very uncomfortable.
ON HANDWASHING CLOTHES (email to parents)
They have a delicate cycle, but it's not very delicate. I'd say it's "Mildly Abusive" instead of the full out "Drunk and Disorderly Brawl" that is the Japanese washing machine's normal cycle.
ON BEING VERY JOUZU
I was complimented for the first time the other day by how jouzu (skilled) I was at using chopsticks. I’ve found, though, that it’s not so much how jouzu you are with using the chopsticks as much as how jouzu you are with hiding the evidence of not using them properly. First of all, always wear dark-colored or patterned clothing, so a spill is harder to spot. Then, wait until your co-workers aren’t looking (provide a distraction, if necessary. I’ve found yelling, “OH, LOOK!!! It’s Godzilla!!!” to be highly effective. Afterwards, just apologize and say, “Sorry, my mistake. It was just a giant grasshopper.”), then try to shovel as much in your mouth as possible. If necessary, pick up your bowl or plate and hold it straight up to your mouth. Whatever misses will land on your lap, which you can move under the table or desk simply by shifting your knees. When your co-workers turn back, they will be amazed at how well and how quickly you can eat with chopsticks.
ON GIGGLING
Japanese ladies (and in some cases men) giggle a lot. There’s no way to preface that or soften it. They just do. It’s like some sort of racial Tourettes’ Syndrome or something. They have to giggle and get it out of their system or else they’ll explode. I guess if I had to choose, I’d prefer giggling over swearing or violence.
ON THE JAPANESE CONECPT OF COOL
I can’t figure out the double standard of Japanese “cool.” I’ve seen these guys with the cool hair cuts and the tailored clothes, looking very suave and sophisticated. They even have the J-guy (Japanese-guy) model poses and the pouty lips look. So I’ll be looking at one, and suddenly I’ll look down and see that they have a Mickey Mouse keychain hanging from their cell phone. In the US, that would be a great way to acquire the nickname “Minnie” and get your butt kicked repeatedly after school. Here, it’s cool. It’s at times like this that I remember that I am facing not only a language barrier, but a culture barrier as well.
ON TRICKING THE MAYOR
So on the day I arrived in my city, I was told I was going to meet the mayor the next day. I had been told ahead of time to bring a present, so I bought a coffee mug with a picture of Ohio and some facts about Ohio on it. The only problem was, I wasn’t given a box – the sales clerk just wrapped it in tissue paper. Giving present in Japan is a big thing, and part of the present is how well it is wrapped. Wrapping a box-less mug was going to be a challenge, but I was sure I could do it.In retrospect, I have no idea WHY I thought I could, considering my track record with wrapping. Every Christmas, it’s a tradition for my family to mock my present-wrapping skills, as I have none. So, foolishly, I didn’t worry about having a box.
The night before I was to meet the mayor, I tried wrapping my mug. It was quite the chore, and the result can only be called a monstrosity. Not very impressive. I started stressing, but realized there was nothing I could do. I tried to convince myself that it really DIDN’T look like I had wrapped a live animal while it was squirming. Trying to put it out of my mind, I started exploring my apartment (this was the first night I was in the apartment, so I still hadn’t looked in closets and such yet). As I dinked around in the kitchen, I happened upon an almost empty cupboard. Behold, in said cupboard, with a halo of light around it and the Hallelujah Chorus playing from inside it, was an empty mug box. I squealed, ran to unwrap my wrapped wreck, and held my breath as I made sure the mug would fit in the box. It would! YES!!! Quickly getting more paper, I wrapped the box with military precision. Lines were folded hard several times, creases were exactly on the lines. And to be sure that the paper would not fall off, I taped it several times (it’s a trademark of my wrapping jobs to use excessive amounts of tape. That way, even if I tape it poorly, the package still stays closed). And this present actually did look impressive – very, very well wrapped, if I do say so myself (which I do). So, armed with an amazingly wrapped present, I went to meet the mayor.
I didn’t realize that it was going to be such a big thing until I go there, and there were 4 reporters outside and a news camera. ?!?!? I started to freak out, and U-sensei said (as was soon to become his refrain for me), “Rerax. It’s okay.” So I tried to “rerax.” It didn’t work. I went in to meet the mayor, trying to smile at him as I was blinded by camera flashes. The mayor would say something. I would smile as he said it. Then I would keep smiling and lean towards U-sensei, who was whispering as he translated, so I could barely hear him. I then replied in short sentences to U-sensei, who translated to the mayor. We sat down, and I gave him the present. He admired the wrapping job (as he darn well should have after all the effort I put into that sucker), then tried to open it. Now, I didn’t realize that ripping wrapping paper is not polite over here. My sister would adapt well to the present system over here; to rip the wrapping paper (say THAT ten times fast) is, I guess, considered bad manners. So my way of wrapping presents (with as much tape as possible) is actually either incredibly cruel or incredibly amusing, depending on what side of the present you are. “It is wrapped so well that I cannot open it,” the mayor laughed to U-sensei, who translated. I thought the mayor was going to have conniptions trying to get into the darn box. I kept apologizing and looking very worried, but inside, I was laughing so hard I was in tears. I could see the headlines, “Gaijin stumps mayor with cleverly wrapped present. H-city declares war on Ohio.”
ON OUR CLEAN BEACHES
I went to the beach with some people the other day. My city is famous for its beautiful beaches. I didn’t go swimming at first, and after the first person came out and said he thought he had just been stung by a jellyfish, I decided to hold off the joyous occasion of my first trip to the emergency room until a later date. Some others were braver than I, though, and took the plunge. Two people came back at one point, and I asked them how the water was. “You mean aside from the trash floating around in it?” Ken said (We call him Yamaguchi Ken [“ken” is the Japanese word for “prefecture,” so our prefecture is called Yamaguchi-ken] because we're clever like that). Choco, another AET, said that there were a lot of condom wrappers around, but they had yet to see any used condoms. Later, someone asked me if I was going to swim. I stated that, no, I had no desire to swim, as it would feel like I was swimming in STD’s.
ON GIANT BUGS
The other day, one of my Department Heads came into the BOE holding something…well, prehistoric is the only adjective that comes to mind. It was a giant bug, roughly the size of a Volkswagen. Other people in the office (even the OL’s [Office Ladies]) came up to look at the thing. I sat and pretended to be thoroughly engrossed in my reading. The Department Head called out my name and said, “What?”. Eventually, I figured out that he wanted to know what we call the bug in English. My initial thought was, “Hell if I know,” followed by, “Freaking Scary.” Opting out of both of these, I said, “I’m not sure. We don’t get bugs that big back home. But I’d guess it would be a dragonfly. Dragon (growl) fly (arms flutter). DRAGON FLY.” Cue the alien language routine. “Duragon furye.” Sure. That works. “In Japanese, we call tonbon.” I dutifully repeated “tonbon.” Why is it that of all the words people have tried to teach me, I forget the helpful ones, but remember the words for spider and dragon fly? Why can’t I remember the word for washing machine or lesson plans? Sigh.
ON STRANGE LABELS
The Japanese are obsessed with English. They like to see things written in English, and it doesn’t have to be good English, so long as it’s English words written down. English makes things sell well, apparently, so you will find English on almost everything. The words they use, though, are not usually checked by a native English speaker for accuracy. As a result, you will see English all over the place that makes no apparent sense whatsoever. It’s like how Americans enjoy having Chinese or Japanese artifacts with kanji (pictorial symbols) on them. For all we know, the kanji could mean, “I went to China and all I got was this silly shirt”. So here are two examples of bizarre, yet fun “Engrish” (a term coined to describe this kind of usage) from Japan.
Item 1: “It abbs abundant frightnees to pleasure of the tabie.” Good luck guessing where that one came from.
Item 2: “The spirit of OKASHI. It is what gives a peaceful and pleasant mind to the human race. All the time, man seeks romance in the OKASHI. We have been working hard and carefully, and work on. To weave the romance and the fancy into each OKASHI. This, at last, we have made up ‘The HAKATA SEIYO-WAGASHI.’ If you taste the feeling and the spirit of the OKASHI which value tradition and living in the times, there is no pleasure better than it.” This was from a sweet bread filled with stuff that someone brought back as omiyage (a present for the office). The office ladies saw that it was written in English and asked me to explain it. Umm…yeah. I translated romance as nostalgia, but I had no idea where to go from there.
ON THE SENSITIVITY OF ALT’S (assistant language teachers)
At a recent orientation session, we were given 10 minutes to prepare a self-introduction using 4 sheets of paper. We had to draw stuff about ourselves on the sheets and pretend we were going to present it to our students. After the 10 minutes were up, the leaders asked if someone would volunteer to be the first to present. Everyone started calling out the names of the 2 biggest jokers in the group, and one eventually got up and said he’d present. So he got up and said very loudly and very slowly (a little too much of both), “Hello, everybody.” Many of us mature adults then called back, “HA RO!” which is how most students say Hello because they can’t pronounce the L sound. The ones who didn’t say HARO laughed at it, anyway. Yeah. We were mocking our cute little junior high school students who can’t speak well because they haven’t had enough practice yet. Oh, yeah. We are all SO going to hell.
There is a website from another JET that is widely popular. In it, he mentions having gained certain “Gaijin (foreigner) Powers”, many of which are silly things that happen to most Gaijins. I have found that I do possess one Gaijin power – the power of Gaijin Narcolepsy. I have the power to look at anyone on a train, and, if they are looking at me, they are immediately struck with a strong bout of narcolepsy. It’s amazing. I’ll look up, catch someone’s eye, and their head falls to their chest, their eyes close, and they cease all movement. I think it’s better than Nyquil. I should try to patent it over here.
ON GENKI
JET's have taken it and morphed it into many different particles of speech. It can be a verb - "I am genki", it can be a noun - "Get your genki on!" – it can be an adjective “I was genki happy today”, etc. Genki is being happy, lively, energetic, perky, cheerful, upbeat, positive - all wrapped into one evil, hateful, horrible ball of malevolence.
ON BEING TERRIFYING
So I’ve never met an adult that was so petrified of me that they were almost crying. Until I came to Japan, that is. At my Welcome Party, I just had to laugh as I watched people down alcohol just so they’d have the courage to come talk to me. It was absolutely hilarious that they needed to drink to even feel brave enough to come speak to me. I was strangely, oddly honored by this. Japan is messing with my brain, I guess. But it is really hard for them to come speak to me in English, and they were trying to work up the courage. It was touching and amusing and really, really bizarre. Eventually, this one timid young woman came up with one of my OL’s. She was visibly shaking and kept looking at the OL and giggling. She handed me a card, and I asked if I could open it. She mimed that I could and said, “Yes”. Her voice was shaking. Poor girl. The card was an anniversary card that said, “On your Anniversary: This anniversary card is perfect for you, because it’s special and different from the rest…just like you two!” Inside, she wrote: “X-SAN – Let me introduce myself! My name is K T. I like chocorate so my nickname was “choco” in high school. My hometown is Y-city. Y-gakko’s junior high school is my alma mater. I study English now. I want to speak with you. But I am little shy. So I can’t talk to you. Could you talk with me sometime from now on? YOROSHIKU ONEGAISHIMASU. from K” She was so scared. I told her that I was shy, too, so it’s okay. We talked a little (her English was VERY good), and she said she would be picking me up for work on Wednesday (she almost started crying at this point. Her eyes were red and I could see tears forming). She explained that some of the OL’s went to Australia this May, and that’s where she got the card. I said several times how nice the card was and how cute it was, and how much I liked and appreciated it. I told her to not be shy, that I wanted to talk to her, too, etc. I kept saying, “Don’t be shy. It’s okay!” I was so relieved to talk to her, though. Being at the table with all the important guys who didn’t speak English was making me very, very uncomfortable.
ON HANDWASHING CLOTHES (email to parents)
They have a delicate cycle, but it's not very delicate. I'd say it's "Mildly Abusive" instead of the full out "Drunk and Disorderly Brawl" that is the Japanese washing machine's normal cycle.
ON BEING VERY JOUZU
I was complimented for the first time the other day by how jouzu (skilled) I was at using chopsticks. I’ve found, though, that it’s not so much how jouzu you are with using the chopsticks as much as how jouzu you are with hiding the evidence of not using them properly. First of all, always wear dark-colored or patterned clothing, so a spill is harder to spot. Then, wait until your co-workers aren’t looking (provide a distraction, if necessary. I’ve found yelling, “OH, LOOK!!! It’s Godzilla!!!” to be highly effective. Afterwards, just apologize and say, “Sorry, my mistake. It was just a giant grasshopper.”), then try to shovel as much in your mouth as possible. If necessary, pick up your bowl or plate and hold it straight up to your mouth. Whatever misses will land on your lap, which you can move under the table or desk simply by shifting your knees. When your co-workers turn back, they will be amazed at how well and how quickly you can eat with chopsticks.
ON GIGGLING
Japanese ladies (and in some cases men) giggle a lot. There’s no way to preface that or soften it. They just do. It’s like some sort of racial Tourettes’ Syndrome or something. They have to giggle and get it out of their system or else they’ll explode. I guess if I had to choose, I’d prefer giggling over swearing or violence.
ON THE JAPANESE CONECPT OF COOL
I can’t figure out the double standard of Japanese “cool.” I’ve seen these guys with the cool hair cuts and the tailored clothes, looking very suave and sophisticated. They even have the J-guy (Japanese-guy) model poses and the pouty lips look. So I’ll be looking at one, and suddenly I’ll look down and see that they have a Mickey Mouse keychain hanging from their cell phone. In the US, that would be a great way to acquire the nickname “Minnie” and get your butt kicked repeatedly after school. Here, it’s cool. It’s at times like this that I remember that I am facing not only a language barrier, but a culture barrier as well.
ON TRICKING THE MAYOR
So on the day I arrived in my city, I was told I was going to meet the mayor the next day. I had been told ahead of time to bring a present, so I bought a coffee mug with a picture of Ohio and some facts about Ohio on it. The only problem was, I wasn’t given a box – the sales clerk just wrapped it in tissue paper. Giving present in Japan is a big thing, and part of the present is how well it is wrapped. Wrapping a box-less mug was going to be a challenge, but I was sure I could do it.In retrospect, I have no idea WHY I thought I could, considering my track record with wrapping. Every Christmas, it’s a tradition for my family to mock my present-wrapping skills, as I have none. So, foolishly, I didn’t worry about having a box.
The night before I was to meet the mayor, I tried wrapping my mug. It was quite the chore, and the result can only be called a monstrosity. Not very impressive. I started stressing, but realized there was nothing I could do. I tried to convince myself that it really DIDN’T look like I had wrapped a live animal while it was squirming. Trying to put it out of my mind, I started exploring my apartment (this was the first night I was in the apartment, so I still hadn’t looked in closets and such yet). As I dinked around in the kitchen, I happened upon an almost empty cupboard. Behold, in said cupboard, with a halo of light around it and the Hallelujah Chorus playing from inside it, was an empty mug box. I squealed, ran to unwrap my wrapped wreck, and held my breath as I made sure the mug would fit in the box. It would! YES!!! Quickly getting more paper, I wrapped the box with military precision. Lines were folded hard several times, creases were exactly on the lines. And to be sure that the paper would not fall off, I taped it several times (it’s a trademark of my wrapping jobs to use excessive amounts of tape. That way, even if I tape it poorly, the package still stays closed). And this present actually did look impressive – very, very well wrapped, if I do say so myself (which I do). So, armed with an amazingly wrapped present, I went to meet the mayor.
I didn’t realize that it was going to be such a big thing until I go there, and there were 4 reporters outside and a news camera. ?!?!? I started to freak out, and U-sensei said (as was soon to become his refrain for me), “Rerax. It’s okay.” So I tried to “rerax.” It didn’t work. I went in to meet the mayor, trying to smile at him as I was blinded by camera flashes. The mayor would say something. I would smile as he said it. Then I would keep smiling and lean towards U-sensei, who was whispering as he translated, so I could barely hear him. I then replied in short sentences to U-sensei, who translated to the mayor. We sat down, and I gave him the present. He admired the wrapping job (as he darn well should have after all the effort I put into that sucker), then tried to open it. Now, I didn’t realize that ripping wrapping paper is not polite over here. My sister would adapt well to the present system over here; to rip the wrapping paper (say THAT ten times fast) is, I guess, considered bad manners. So my way of wrapping presents (with as much tape as possible) is actually either incredibly cruel or incredibly amusing, depending on what side of the present you are. “It is wrapped so well that I cannot open it,” the mayor laughed to U-sensei, who translated. I thought the mayor was going to have conniptions trying to get into the darn box. I kept apologizing and looking very worried, but inside, I was laughing so hard I was in tears. I could see the headlines, “Gaijin stumps mayor with cleverly wrapped present. H-city declares war on Ohio.”
ON OUR CLEAN BEACHES
I went to the beach with some people the other day. My city is famous for its beautiful beaches. I didn’t go swimming at first, and after the first person came out and said he thought he had just been stung by a jellyfish, I decided to hold off the joyous occasion of my first trip to the emergency room until a later date. Some others were braver than I, though, and took the plunge. Two people came back at one point, and I asked them how the water was. “You mean aside from the trash floating around in it?” Ken said (We call him Yamaguchi Ken [“ken” is the Japanese word for “prefecture,” so our prefecture is called Yamaguchi-ken] because we're clever like that). Choco, another AET, said that there were a lot of condom wrappers around, but they had yet to see any used condoms. Later, someone asked me if I was going to swim. I stated that, no, I had no desire to swim, as it would feel like I was swimming in STD’s.
ON GIANT BUGS
The other day, one of my Department Heads came into the BOE holding something…well, prehistoric is the only adjective that comes to mind. It was a giant bug, roughly the size of a Volkswagen. Other people in the office (even the OL’s [Office Ladies]) came up to look at the thing. I sat and pretended to be thoroughly engrossed in my reading. The Department Head called out my name and said, “What?”. Eventually, I figured out that he wanted to know what we call the bug in English. My initial thought was, “Hell if I know,” followed by, “Freaking Scary.” Opting out of both of these, I said, “I’m not sure. We don’t get bugs that big back home. But I’d guess it would be a dragonfly. Dragon (growl) fly (arms flutter). DRAGON FLY.” Cue the alien language routine. “Duragon furye.” Sure. That works. “In Japanese, we call tonbon.” I dutifully repeated “tonbon.” Why is it that of all the words people have tried to teach me, I forget the helpful ones, but remember the words for spider and dragon fly? Why can’t I remember the word for washing machine or lesson plans? Sigh.
ON STRANGE LABELS
The Japanese are obsessed with English. They like to see things written in English, and it doesn’t have to be good English, so long as it’s English words written down. English makes things sell well, apparently, so you will find English on almost everything. The words they use, though, are not usually checked by a native English speaker for accuracy. As a result, you will see English all over the place that makes no apparent sense whatsoever. It’s like how Americans enjoy having Chinese or Japanese artifacts with kanji (pictorial symbols) on them. For all we know, the kanji could mean, “I went to China and all I got was this silly shirt”. So here are two examples of bizarre, yet fun “Engrish” (a term coined to describe this kind of usage) from Japan.
Item 1: “It abbs abundant frightnees to pleasure of the tabie.” Good luck guessing where that one came from.
Item 2: “The spirit of OKASHI. It is what gives a peaceful and pleasant mind to the human race. All the time, man seeks romance in the OKASHI. We have been working hard and carefully, and work on. To weave the romance and the fancy into each OKASHI. This, at last, we have made up ‘The HAKATA SEIYO-WAGASHI.’ If you taste the feeling and the spirit of the OKASHI which value tradition and living in the times, there is no pleasure better than it.” This was from a sweet bread filled with stuff that someone brought back as omiyage (a present for the office). The office ladies saw that it was written in English and asked me to explain it. Umm…yeah. I translated romance as nostalgia, but I had no idea where to go from there.
ON THE SENSITIVITY OF ALT’S (assistant language teachers)
At a recent orientation session, we were given 10 minutes to prepare a self-introduction using 4 sheets of paper. We had to draw stuff about ourselves on the sheets and pretend we were going to present it to our students. After the 10 minutes were up, the leaders asked if someone would volunteer to be the first to present. Everyone started calling out the names of the 2 biggest jokers in the group, and one eventually got up and said he’d present. So he got up and said very loudly and very slowly (a little too much of both), “Hello, everybody.” Many of us mature adults then called back, “HA RO!” which is how most students say Hello because they can’t pronounce the L sound. The ones who didn’t say HARO laughed at it, anyway. Yeah. We were mocking our cute little junior high school students who can’t speak well because they haven’t had enough practice yet. Oh, yeah. We are all SO going to hell.
ON INTRODUCING YOURSELF
So I’m working on my self-introduction. We’re supposed to write a little bit about ourselves – our name, where we’re from, what our hobbies are. Mine is not so promising. “Hi, my name is __________. Until recently, I was a college graduate who lived in my parents’ basement. I’ve never held a steady job. My hobbies include being lazy, mooching off my parents, and sleeping. In my spare time, I like to watch tv, play video games, and download music illegally from the internet.”
I think I need to change some of this before I actually use it…
ON ACRONYMS
So the JET Program is starting to get on my nerves. I don’t understand what anyone is saying because it’s all acronyms. I’m on the JET Program as an ALT (not a CIR or SEA). I’ll be working with JTE’s or at my BOE in JHSs. The JET Program is run by CLAIR and sponsored by MEXT, MOFA, and MIC. If I have trouble, I should go to my PA or my supervisor. I’m beginning to get Acronymphobia. … That sounded weird now that I break it down into syllables. Anyways, needless to say, I’m getting sick of acronyms.
ON CULTURAL EXCHANGES
It’s great spreading your culture and language to new people. I’ve been quite active in teaching my OL (Office Ladies) some English words. For instance, we learned the word “osen” (pollution) when they asked me if Lake Erie was beautiful. We learned “diahreabetes” when I tired to teach them how to say “diabetes”. It’s a great language exchange.
ON LOCO LOCOMOTION
So apparently there are issues on some crowded city trains where men try to grope women (my city isn’t bad – the trains are never that crowded). It’s gotten so bad that some lines have instituted women only cars. All I can say is that if any guy ever tries to grab my all-American tater-tots, he’s going to get his takonomiyaki deep fried.
ON SQUATTING WITH CAUTION
So I’m not a fan of squatter toilets (or squatty potties as my brother-in-law calls them). I swore that I would never use one. Never was quite quick in coming. The first day I arrived at my BOE, I had to go to the bathroom. Much to my dismay, the toilets were only squatters. During my many trips to the restroom after that first fateful attempt, I have had time to ponder the nature of the squatter toilets and why they never caught on in the United States. I eventually realized it’s a sexist thing. One thing that sets men and women apart in the US is what each gender is allowed to brag about. Women used to brag that they had a clean house and could prepare a nine-course meal. As the years went by and women got more liberated, they changed their bragging to say that they could do anything a man could do, to which the enlightened men would respond, “Oh yeah? Can you pee standing up? Can you write your name in the snow?” Well, gentlemen, guess what? Yeah, that’s right. It might not get marks for penmanship, but anything you can do, I can at least do without smelling like a latrine for the rest of the day.
Now, I have to admit to a certain amount of trepidation as to using these squatty potties for the first time. The first and foremost fear being that using the squatty-potty will lead to a messy-dressy. Also, there’s the fact that bugs tend to roam all over Japan, and these ain’t your cute little “itsy-bitsy spiders”. These are your Freakin-Huge-Bird-Eating-Spiders-of- Doom type of thing. And you can see them and their friends the pill bugs, the dragon flies, and other miscellaneous bits of insectology frolicking around and merrily enacting the food chain in the bathroom. I am, therefore, slightly worried about getting an arachnid enema. My biggest fear is that one day, as I’m going about my business, a spider will suddenly decide that it has a career in spelunking ahead of it.
Some quick hints for those of you who are worried about using these toilets.
1) Always wear a skirt.
You’d be amazed at how much easier it is to go in a skirt. This included you, gentlemen. If you have to go number 2, you’re going to have issues as well. Wear a kilt and tell everyone it’s a cultural thing.
Addendum: If your skirt has 2 high side slits, make sure the back of your skirt is out of the splash zone.
2) I may be crude to say, but life can be easier first if you remove your underwear.
This way, you don’t have to worry about it being in the way. Your first time using one of these can be stressful enough without trying to think of an excuse as to why a very strong smell is following you around all day.
3) USE THE BATHROOM SLIPPERS PROVIDED!
Never go in with your own shoes. Why? Well, to get into the nitty gritty, I’ll say that girls don’t have aiming devices like men do, so that makes it significantly hard to hit an object with any accuracy, no matter how large the object. Now add to this the fact that sometimes you may have children using the bathroom (and they couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn). They should post signs saying, “Squat with Caution: Children’s toilets” or something like that. Let’s just say if you see liquid on the floor, it’s best to assume it’s water splashed from the toilet. But it’s really not.
4) Bring your own hand towel.
If you are lucky, the restroom you use may have soap. If you are excessively lucky, it may have a hand dryer. If not, you might not have soap, and you certainly won’t have hand towels or a hand dryer. Get used to it.
5) Upon entering the stall, always sight for something you can grab onto if you lose your balance.
Not everyone has perfect balance, and one of the last things you want is to fall backwards into the toilet. Or into a puddle of whatever has missed the toilet. Sometimes, there’s a bar for you to grab, or you can grab the pipe connecting the tank to the hood.
6) Look on the walls to see if there is a sound-muffling device.
Some toilets will have some sort of running-water noise to mask any “embarrassing sounds” that may be produced in the bathroom. Of course, if you use said noises, everyone knows what kinds of “embarrassing sounds” you were producing, so I don’t see how that makes it any less embarrassing.
And that’s my tutorial for Japanese squatters. Remember, squat facing the hood of the toilet (they’re very specific about this, but I’m not sure why. Does it really matter which way you’re facing?). And if you have back or knee problems, just don’t drink anything during your stay in Japan.
So I’m working on my self-introduction. We’re supposed to write a little bit about ourselves – our name, where we’re from, what our hobbies are. Mine is not so promising. “Hi, my name is __________. Until recently, I was a college graduate who lived in my parents’ basement. I’ve never held a steady job. My hobbies include being lazy, mooching off my parents, and sleeping. In my spare time, I like to watch tv, play video games, and download music illegally from the internet.”
I think I need to change some of this before I actually use it…
ON ACRONYMS
So the JET Program is starting to get on my nerves. I don’t understand what anyone is saying because it’s all acronyms. I’m on the JET Program as an ALT (not a CIR or SEA). I’ll be working with JTE’s or at my BOE in JHSs. The JET Program is run by CLAIR and sponsored by MEXT, MOFA, and MIC. If I have trouble, I should go to my PA or my supervisor. I’m beginning to get Acronymphobia. … That sounded weird now that I break it down into syllables. Anyways, needless to say, I’m getting sick of acronyms.
ON CULTURAL EXCHANGES
It’s great spreading your culture and language to new people. I’ve been quite active in teaching my OL (Office Ladies) some English words. For instance, we learned the word “osen” (pollution) when they asked me if Lake Erie was beautiful. We learned “diahreabetes” when I tired to teach them how to say “diabetes”. It’s a great language exchange.
ON LOCO LOCOMOTION
So apparently there are issues on some crowded city trains where men try to grope women (my city isn’t bad – the trains are never that crowded). It’s gotten so bad that some lines have instituted women only cars. All I can say is that if any guy ever tries to grab my all-American tater-tots, he’s going to get his takonomiyaki deep fried.
ON SQUATTING WITH CAUTION
So I’m not a fan of squatter toilets (or squatty potties as my brother-in-law calls them). I swore that I would never use one. Never was quite quick in coming. The first day I arrived at my BOE, I had to go to the bathroom. Much to my dismay, the toilets were only squatters. During my many trips to the restroom after that first fateful attempt, I have had time to ponder the nature of the squatter toilets and why they never caught on in the United States. I eventually realized it’s a sexist thing. One thing that sets men and women apart in the US is what each gender is allowed to brag about. Women used to brag that they had a clean house and could prepare a nine-course meal. As the years went by and women got more liberated, they changed their bragging to say that they could do anything a man could do, to which the enlightened men would respond, “Oh yeah? Can you pee standing up? Can you write your name in the snow?” Well, gentlemen, guess what? Yeah, that’s right. It might not get marks for penmanship, but anything you can do, I can at least do without smelling like a latrine for the rest of the day.
Now, I have to admit to a certain amount of trepidation as to using these squatty potties for the first time. The first and foremost fear being that using the squatty-potty will lead to a messy-dressy. Also, there’s the fact that bugs tend to roam all over Japan, and these ain’t your cute little “itsy-bitsy spiders”. These are your Freakin-Huge-Bird-Eating-Spiders-of- Doom type of thing. And you can see them and their friends the pill bugs, the dragon flies, and other miscellaneous bits of insectology frolicking around and merrily enacting the food chain in the bathroom. I am, therefore, slightly worried about getting an arachnid enema. My biggest fear is that one day, as I’m going about my business, a spider will suddenly decide that it has a career in spelunking ahead of it.
Some quick hints for those of you who are worried about using these toilets.
1) Always wear a skirt.
You’d be amazed at how much easier it is to go in a skirt. This included you, gentlemen. If you have to go number 2, you’re going to have issues as well. Wear a kilt and tell everyone it’s a cultural thing.
Addendum: If your skirt has 2 high side slits, make sure the back of your skirt is out of the splash zone.
2) I may be crude to say, but life can be easier first if you remove your underwear.
This way, you don’t have to worry about it being in the way. Your first time using one of these can be stressful enough without trying to think of an excuse as to why a very strong smell is following you around all day.
3) USE THE BATHROOM SLIPPERS PROVIDED!
Never go in with your own shoes. Why? Well, to get into the nitty gritty, I’ll say that girls don’t have aiming devices like men do, so that makes it significantly hard to hit an object with any accuracy, no matter how large the object. Now add to this the fact that sometimes you may have children using the bathroom (and they couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn). They should post signs saying, “Squat with Caution: Children’s toilets” or something like that. Let’s just say if you see liquid on the floor, it’s best to assume it’s water splashed from the toilet. But it’s really not.
4) Bring your own hand towel.
If you are lucky, the restroom you use may have soap. If you are excessively lucky, it may have a hand dryer. If not, you might not have soap, and you certainly won’t have hand towels or a hand dryer. Get used to it.
5) Upon entering the stall, always sight for something you can grab onto if you lose your balance.
Not everyone has perfect balance, and one of the last things you want is to fall backwards into the toilet. Or into a puddle of whatever has missed the toilet. Sometimes, there’s a bar for you to grab, or you can grab the pipe connecting the tank to the hood.
6) Look on the walls to see if there is a sound-muffling device.
Some toilets will have some sort of running-water noise to mask any “embarrassing sounds” that may be produced in the bathroom. Of course, if you use said noises, everyone knows what kinds of “embarrassing sounds” you were producing, so I don’t see how that makes it any less embarrassing.
And that’s my tutorial for Japanese squatters. Remember, squat facing the hood of the toilet (they’re very specific about this, but I’m not sure why. Does it really matter which way you’re facing?). And if you have back or knee problems, just don’t drink anything during your stay in Japan.
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