I know I don't actually post all that often, but I'm trying to rectify that. The truth is that I'm too busy-- really! Read Bob's description of his average day, and then compare it to mine:
I leave the house at about 8:45, to arrive at school by 9:20 ("on time" in Japan means 10 minutes early.) The morning preschool classes begin at 10 and last till 2 (of course, lunch and a daily visit to the park are included; I'm not lecturing 3-year-olds for 4 hours.) On two weekdays, I have planning time in the afternoon; the other two weekdays I teach a 2-hour afterschool class for kids who go to Japanese elementary school. On Saturdays the schedule is flipped: I get to plan in the morning, and teach a 4-hour intensive English class in the afternoon. Add "parent comment" time to all these classes and I don't exactly have as much down time as Bob does. All that will change, of course, when he gets a new school in August, but until then he's got about 7 hours of teaching per week, and I've got 24.
Anyway, I wanted to share a couple of articles I found recently. The first is NYTimes article from last August, about an inquiry into the study abroad industry. It works like this: Schools can run their own programs in foreign countries, have exchange agreements with institutions abroad, or partner with a private company that runs similar programs. As far as I can tell, every university has all 3 of these options available. The problem with the private companies, though, is that they are too focused on the bottom line. In August 2007, some of these providers were caught bribing universities to get kids to sign up for their programs-- you can read the article here.
I understand why colleges use these companies: it's just too hard for every school to develop their own programs, or to partner with other schools. With thousands of institutions of higher education, it's just not possible. There isn't enough money, faculty, or time-- relationships between schools and local professors can take years to develop. The demand is increasing, too: over 200,000 students studied abroad in 2004-5, which is more than double from a decade ago. The Lincoln Commission just released a report stating its goal of sending 1 million American students abroad within 10 years. So schools turn to these companies to diversify their offerings. The problem with these companies is that they are too expensive and too sheltering.
The first part is easy to explain: third-party providers can, for example, provide a program that places students at a foreign university. However, directly enrolling in a foreign university often costs less, much less, than U.S. tuition. Exchange programs- where two students from different countries trade places- also have this problem. A friend of mine who studied in France told me she enjoyed her program, but was frustrated by the fact that she was paying a few thousand dollars (her normal UVA tuition) to be there, and her French classmates were sitting in the lecture halls for free. The private programs, however, usually cost upwards of $10,000 per semester, even $20,000-- and that's not including airfare. Few scholarships are available, so most of the kids who enroll in these programs are wealthy. Universities exacerbate this problem, too-- read the article above!
So the group of students on one of these programs is going to look pretty homogenous: most- if not all- have wealthy parents, and statistically speaking, they are likely to be white, female, liberal arts majors, college juniors, studying for 1 semester in Western Europe. But I'll get into that stuff another time. Essentially, students may be spending their semester with Americans who are very similar to them, so they won't have to step out of their comfort zone. Companies advertise their programs by offering "personal pre-departure advisors," and group field trips, which exclude the local student population. Depending on the program, some are not integrated into any foreign university, which is called an "island program." Americans take classes with Americans, study only in English, and live with Americans. I think the reasoning here is "Let's make our program sound exciting yet easy, not too different from an American campus, and lots of students will sign up!" Which equals lots of $$$. If a program is led by experienced, passionate faculty, has comprehensive student support services, and most importantly, has depth, then an private program may be the best fit for a student. But if programs are developed with attention to quantity and the bottom line, with little attention paid to quality- and this goes for university programs too, if they are developed poorly- those 1 million kids will have experiences closer to this. It's an article from the Onion, but it accurately captures aspects of the American college overseas experience.
When abroad, traditional learning often takes a backseat to experiential learning, but when done poorly, experience can be (according to Homer Simpson) "just a bunch of stuff that happened." If students remain in the "American bubble" the whole time and are never forced to step outside their comfort zone, they're not experiencing anything new at all.
by Katie
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Katie's green thumb, among other things
Yesterday, Katie and I decided to transform our backyard into something that's not such an utter abomination. The first step in this epic struggle will be to get a decent vegetable garden going. We bought a few different varieties of tomatoes (roma and plum), red and yellow bell peppers, basil, and mint. We figured we'd get the most use out of those guys, even if others, such as zucchini or eggplant, might be easier to grow. We spent a few hours yesterday pulling up grass and weeds and turning up soil, and Katie's going to head to the home center today to buy bricks for making a raised garden so we can transfer the seedlings this afternoon. It's a grand experiment. I'll keep you posted on its progress.
Recently, I decided not to be such a shameless slacker and started taking actual Japanese lessons. I'm taking a couple, actually. Twice a week I do a program more focused on grammar, reading, and writing, and once a week I have conversation. Ok, technically the last one isn't exclusively a conversation class, but I'm going to call it one anyway because I'm talking to a living human being instead of working out of a workbook. In my spare time, I've also been making a more concerted effort to cram as many kanji into my head as possible. I'm not worrying so much right now about how to pronounce them, just learn what they mean. For example, I don't necessarily know that this character 起 can be read as "o" or "ki", but I do know that it means "get up". Once I learn the vocabulary "okiru" 起きる (to get up) or "kiritsu suru" 起立する (to stand up) I'll be able to remember the readings in context.
At the end of the month, Katie and I are going to Korea to visit our friend, Adam. We'll be taking the night bus to Fukuoka, and from there we'll take the high speed hydrofoil across the Sea of Japan and disembarking in Busan. I'm not exactly sure what the itinerary will be, but we'll head up to Seoul for at least a day or two, where we plan on taking part in the DMZ tour. Apparently, the USO runs a tour of the demilitarized zone, the strip of land that separates North and South Korea at the 38th parallel. It should be a hoot.
As for the summer, Australia is out of the question (we'll go sometime when prices aren't so ridiculous), so now we're looking at some more domestic tourism. And for that, we're looking north to the barren (by Japanese standards), snow-capped and wildflower-covered island of Hokkaido. It'll be nice to escape the oppressive heat and humidity that sits on the Kansai Region during mid-August. I'm especially interested in going to Hokkaido as it's one of the last vestiges of Ainu culture and civilization - the Ainu being the aboriginal people of the Japanese archipelago, sort of like the Native Americans back home. They're ethnically Caucasian, looking far more Siberian than East Asian, and are, among other things, the hairiest people in East Asia. Today, there are only a few hundred who can claim pure Ainu parentage, unmixed with the Yamato people we now know as the Japanese who drove them northward so long ago.
I've posted a backlog of pictures on the picasa web site. You can access them via this link: http://picasaweb.google.com/rmhollands . Please enjoy!
-Bob
Recently, I decided not to be such a shameless slacker and started taking actual Japanese lessons. I'm taking a couple, actually. Twice a week I do a program more focused on grammar, reading, and writing, and once a week I have conversation. Ok, technically the last one isn't exclusively a conversation class, but I'm going to call it one anyway because I'm talking to a living human being instead of working out of a workbook. In my spare time, I've also been making a more concerted effort to cram as many kanji into my head as possible. I'm not worrying so much right now about how to pronounce them, just learn what they mean. For example, I don't necessarily know that this character 起 can be read as "o" or "ki", but I do know that it means "get up". Once I learn the vocabulary "okiru" 起きる (to get up) or "kiritsu suru" 起立する (to stand up) I'll be able to remember the readings in context.
At the end of the month, Katie and I are going to Korea to visit our friend, Adam. We'll be taking the night bus to Fukuoka, and from there we'll take the high speed hydrofoil across the Sea of Japan and disembarking in Busan. I'm not exactly sure what the itinerary will be, but we'll head up to Seoul for at least a day or two, where we plan on taking part in the DMZ tour. Apparently, the USO runs a tour of the demilitarized zone, the strip of land that separates North and South Korea at the 38th parallel. It should be a hoot.
As for the summer, Australia is out of the question (we'll go sometime when prices aren't so ridiculous), so now we're looking at some more domestic tourism. And for that, we're looking north to the barren (by Japanese standards), snow-capped and wildflower-covered island of Hokkaido. It'll be nice to escape the oppressive heat and humidity that sits on the Kansai Region during mid-August. I'm especially interested in going to Hokkaido as it's one of the last vestiges of Ainu culture and civilization - the Ainu being the aboriginal people of the Japanese archipelago, sort of like the Native Americans back home. They're ethnically Caucasian, looking far more Siberian than East Asian, and are, among other things, the hairiest people in East Asia. Today, there are only a few hundred who can claim pure Ainu parentage, unmixed with the Yamato people we now know as the Japanese who drove them northward so long ago.
I've posted a backlog of pictures on the picasa web site. You can access them via this link: http://picasaweb.google.com/rmhollands . Please enjoy!
-Bob
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Katie's family's visit
Katie's family left for Itami Airport this morning at 6 AM in two taxis: one for them, and one for their luggage.
It was a sad farewell, not only because we enjoyed hosting them and were sad to see them go, but because of how quiet and empty our house seemed after they left.
Since I'm writing this account of their stay now, instead of as it happened, I can only remember the main details. But since I doubt you'd care to read all the nitty gritty details anyway, I think I can safely give them a pass.
-Katie's mom Roseann, her aunt Linda (her mom's sister), and Linda's friend Gwen arrived on Friday, the 21st of March.
-We spent Saturday and Sunday walking around Kyoto. Among the more notable things we did were staying at a Buddhist temple on Saturday night, visiting Kamigamo-jinja, Kurama Onsen, a machi-ya and the Higashiyama area which was all alight with lanterns on Sunday night.
-I had to work on Monday but Katie was off work, so she showed them around where we live. She took them to a 100 yen store, the grocery store, and various other places on the street in front of our house. On Monday night, Mr. and Mrs. Masaoka, my principal and his wife, came over for dinner. We served them chili, cornbread, and salad ("traditional" American food), and Katie made her famous guacamole. Mrs. Masaoka offered to show Katie's family around Nara on Wednesday and Thursday, since she went to university there and knows the area well.
-Tuesday, Katie and I were both at work, so our three guests went out on their own to visit Himeji Castle. Katie and I met them in Kobe for dinner, where we wanted to take them to an izakaya so they could try a variety of Japanese dishes. It was exceptionally crowded that night downtown (I later learned that it was because a lot of college students just graduated), and it was nigh impossible to secure a table anywhere. We ended up settling for a burger and sandwich place, which was hardly Japanese, but nevertheless tasty.
- Wednesday and Thursday, Mrs. Masaoka kept her word and led our guests around Nara. They saw all the usual sights such as Todai-ji, the Great Buddha, the deer at Nara Park, Horyu-ji, and Nara Women's University (where Mrs. M went to school). For a middle-aged Japanese woman, Mrs. Masaoka moves rather quickly, and our guests had quite the time keeping up with her. She took it easier on them on Thursday, moving at a slower pace and always trying to find escalators and stairs where available. Even so, she kept them out late, and on both days I arrived home from work before they came back.
-On Friday, while Katie and I were at work, our guests went shopping in Kobe (they had been enticed by all the big department stores they saw the last time they were in the city).
-Katie took off work on Saturday, and we all decided to go to Osaka. We stayed mainly around the northern Kita area of town, around Umeda station and its shops, but later that day we made it down to Osaka Castle and the surrounding park. We were originally going to eat dinner downtown in the lively southern district, but we decided that we'd rather eat some home-cooked lasagna which Linda graciously offered to make.
-Early Sunday morning, we hopped on the train to Kobe Airport and flew to Naha, Okinawa. Our first order of business was to see Shuri Castle, which was the seat of the Ryukyu Kingdom before the Islands were appropriated by Japan. We spent some time exploring the castle grounds.
-Monday was a day of bloody history. As a brief aside, let me say that it's nigh impossible to negotiate Naha by public transportation; the buses run irregularly and at outrageous intervals. We actually had to "hire" a large taxi that could fit five people and would wait for us while we explored the sites. First, we went to the secret, underground base the Japanese military used during the Battle of Okinawa in WWII. It was a rag-tag series of tunnels with several alcoves set aside to serve as meeting rooms, medical facilities, or quarters for certain ranks. The most macabre and, for me, the most interesting part was the section of tunnel still riddled with shrapnel holes from when the Japanese soldiers killed themselves by detonating their own hand-grenades. Afterwards, we took a taxi to the Memorial Park commemorating the lives lost during the Battle of Okinawa. The memorial itself was quite impressive: black marble slabs engraved with the names of both the Japanese and the Allied troops who were killed. If you climb up the hill above the memorial, there are separate monuments dedicated to Japan's 47 prefectures. Finally, before going back downtown to dinner and eventually, our hotel, we went to Cape Kyan to search for the "suicide cliffs". We found cliffs, but I'm not sure if they were the ones Roseann was looking for.
-Tuesday morning, Roseann, Katie and I tried to find the only beach in Naha only to find its ocean view annoyingly obstructed by cranes and shipping crates. It seems that if you want the white sand beaches and cobalt blue shores your mind conjures up when you think, "Okinawa," then you need to get the hell out of Naha. At the same time, Linda and Gwen headed down to Kokusai Street to do a little souvenir shopping.
-Wednesday morning we returned to Kobe. Katie, Roseann, and I went to Osaka while Linda and Gwen returned to Amagasaki to revisit the 100 yen store. The three of us tried very hard to find the perfect birthday present for Katie's younger sister, Jennie, but to no avail. We went back home, Katie made some more guacamole, our three guests finished their packing, we went out to eat at the Chinese restaurant next door, and it ended up being an early night for everyone.
That's about it. Later I'll ask Katie to fill in any missing details she thinks are important enough to include here. She's much better at remembering things than I am.
That's all for now,
-Bob
It was a sad farewell, not only because we enjoyed hosting them and were sad to see them go, but because of how quiet and empty our house seemed after they left.
Since I'm writing this account of their stay now, instead of as it happened, I can only remember the main details. But since I doubt you'd care to read all the nitty gritty details anyway, I think I can safely give them a pass.
-Katie's mom Roseann, her aunt Linda (her mom's sister), and Linda's friend Gwen arrived on Friday, the 21st of March.
-We spent Saturday and Sunday walking around Kyoto. Among the more notable things we did were staying at a Buddhist temple on Saturday night, visiting Kamigamo-jinja, Kurama Onsen, a machi-ya and the Higashiyama area which was all alight with lanterns on Sunday night.
-I had to work on Monday but Katie was off work, so she showed them around where we live. She took them to a 100 yen store, the grocery store, and various other places on the street in front of our house. On Monday night, Mr. and Mrs. Masaoka, my principal and his wife, came over for dinner. We served them chili, cornbread, and salad ("traditional" American food), and Katie made her famous guacamole. Mrs. Masaoka offered to show Katie's family around Nara on Wednesday and Thursday, since she went to university there and knows the area well.
-Tuesday, Katie and I were both at work, so our three guests went out on their own to visit Himeji Castle. Katie and I met them in Kobe for dinner, where we wanted to take them to an izakaya so they could try a variety of Japanese dishes. It was exceptionally crowded that night downtown (I later learned that it was because a lot of college students just graduated), and it was nigh impossible to secure a table anywhere. We ended up settling for a burger and sandwich place, which was hardly Japanese, but nevertheless tasty.
- Wednesday and Thursday, Mrs. Masaoka kept her word and led our guests around Nara. They saw all the usual sights such as Todai-ji, the Great Buddha, the deer at Nara Park, Horyu-ji, and Nara Women's University (where Mrs. M went to school). For a middle-aged Japanese woman, Mrs. Masaoka moves rather quickly, and our guests had quite the time keeping up with her. She took it easier on them on Thursday, moving at a slower pace and always trying to find escalators and stairs where available. Even so, she kept them out late, and on both days I arrived home from work before they came back.
-On Friday, while Katie and I were at work, our guests went shopping in Kobe (they had been enticed by all the big department stores they saw the last time they were in the city).
-Katie took off work on Saturday, and we all decided to go to Osaka. We stayed mainly around the northern Kita area of town, around Umeda station and its shops, but later that day we made it down to Osaka Castle and the surrounding park. We were originally going to eat dinner downtown in the lively southern district, but we decided that we'd rather eat some home-cooked lasagna which Linda graciously offered to make.
-Early Sunday morning, we hopped on the train to Kobe Airport and flew to Naha, Okinawa. Our first order of business was to see Shuri Castle, which was the seat of the Ryukyu Kingdom before the Islands were appropriated by Japan. We spent some time exploring the castle grounds.
-Monday was a day of bloody history. As a brief aside, let me say that it's nigh impossible to negotiate Naha by public transportation; the buses run irregularly and at outrageous intervals. We actually had to "hire" a large taxi that could fit five people and would wait for us while we explored the sites. First, we went to the secret, underground base the Japanese military used during the Battle of Okinawa in WWII. It was a rag-tag series of tunnels with several alcoves set aside to serve as meeting rooms, medical facilities, or quarters for certain ranks. The most macabre and, for me, the most interesting part was the section of tunnel still riddled with shrapnel holes from when the Japanese soldiers killed themselves by detonating their own hand-grenades. Afterwards, we took a taxi to the Memorial Park commemorating the lives lost during the Battle of Okinawa. The memorial itself was quite impressive: black marble slabs engraved with the names of both the Japanese and the Allied troops who were killed. If you climb up the hill above the memorial, there are separate monuments dedicated to Japan's 47 prefectures. Finally, before going back downtown to dinner and eventually, our hotel, we went to Cape Kyan to search for the "suicide cliffs". We found cliffs, but I'm not sure if they were the ones Roseann was looking for.
-Tuesday morning, Roseann, Katie and I tried to find the only beach in Naha only to find its ocean view annoyingly obstructed by cranes and shipping crates. It seems that if you want the white sand beaches and cobalt blue shores your mind conjures up when you think, "Okinawa," then you need to get the hell out of Naha. At the same time, Linda and Gwen headed down to Kokusai Street to do a little souvenir shopping.
-Wednesday morning we returned to Kobe. Katie, Roseann, and I went to Osaka while Linda and Gwen returned to Amagasaki to revisit the 100 yen store. The three of us tried very hard to find the perfect birthday present for Katie's younger sister, Jennie, but to no avail. We went back home, Katie made some more guacamole, our three guests finished their packing, we went out to eat at the Chinese restaurant next door, and it ended up being an early night for everyone.
That's about it. Later I'll ask Katie to fill in any missing details she thinks are important enough to include here. She's much better at remembering things than I am.
That's all for now,
-Bob
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
What would you say, you *do* here?
So what, exactly, do I do here?
I get up in the morning at around 7. If I was smart the night before, I'd have already showered and packed my lunch, which usually consists of whatever Katie and I cooked the previous night. I pack my laptop in its case, grab my lunch bag from the fridge, and try to be out the door no later than 7:40. If it's not raining, I'll bike to work. It's a 40 minute journey from my front door to the school's front gate. The terrain is flat enough, so the ride isn't too strenuous, which allows to let my mind wander while I'm riding. I ride like everyone else: on the sidewalk and without a helmet, both baskets filled with my personal effects. I take two main roads to get to my school: one is the north-south road, Ama Ho Sen, which runs from South Amagasaki to nearby Takarazuka and beyond. The other in Route 2, the main east-west road that connects Osaka and Kobe.
If I'm lucky, I'll arrive at school at 8:15 - 5 minutes before the office announcements begin. I enter the sliding door leading into the staffroom, offer up my daily rounds of "ohayo gozaimasu!" (good morning!), throw my stuff down on my desk, stamp my hanko in the attendance book, turn on my laptop, take out the yoghurt or whatever I threw in my lunchbag to eat for breakfast, and start my day.
First period begins at 8:40. Periods are 50 minutes long, with 10 minute breaks in between. If I have a class, I'll use that in-between-time to make photocopies of any handouts I've made for the class, or simply to discuss and finalize the lesson plan with my team teacher. I don't teach the classes by myself, you see. Notwithstanding the aneurism I'm sure my students would experience if exposed to English with no intermediary to translate it into safe, comfortable, and wholesome Japanese, foreign teachers are, by law, prohibited from teaching by themselves in a government school. I'm not exactly sure why this is so, and I can't be bothered to find out. Besides, I really wouldn't want to teach alone anyway. As I said, there's really no way for my students and I to communicate with each other, barring the rudimentary skills we both possess in each others' respective languages, which for them mostly consists of "What is your hobby?" or "What do you like Japanese food?" or "America is very crime."
Even taking into account my busiest day, Monday, I teach no more than four out of six class periods a day, and that's just one day a week. Most days I teach two or three. The rest of the time I honestly spend in front of my laptop surfing the internet. Rarely, very rarely, I'll practice writing some kanji, but I can never remember them the next day. I wish I could find the will to be more productive, as there are so many better things I could be doing with my time. To my credit, I've developed a keen interest in political science - religiously following the 2008 Presidential Campaign, reading anything and everything I can about who's a fascist, who is or is not a Muslim, and who's forgotten to wear his or her flag pin this week. To be certain, I am not impressed with the level of political discourse back home.
At work I'm more or less a ghost. If I talk to any other teachers it's almost always the English teachers, and that's only because I have to plan lessons with them. Everyone else leaves me alone. Sometimes, such as when we have an office party after work at some bar or restaurant, I'll get to socialize with teachers with whom I never interact on a daily basis. Most of them are really nice, and even if we can't understand each other perfectly, we still manage to have fairly pleasant conversations. They won't talk to me at work, but I know it's not because they don't want to, it's just that the language barrier is too great, and the conspicuous lack of alcohol (not a problem at office parties) only further inhibits them. My failure to overcome this is my own fault; I don't study Japanese enough or practice it enough, I'm not very outgoing with the other staff or the students, I spend most of the day sitting at my desk instead of visiting student clubs or activities - everything the stereotypical JET is supposed to do to get the most out of their "JET experience".
I have no right to complain because I knew what this job was going to be like before I even set foot in Japan. I had read others' accounts of their time here on this Program. I knew that the number one complaint JETs had was "too much free time." You wouldn't think it would be a problem, would you? Most people would kill for a little more free time during their day. So I don't necessarily find that to be an accurate assessment. I'd prefer the phrase "lack of purpose". That, my friends, is a killer.
Don't get my wrong, it's not all doom and gloom. A lot of my students are joys, and some pop periodically into the staffroom just to say "hello!" Actually, the conversation goes just like this, every time:
Student: Hello. (Louder) Hello.
Me: Oh! Hello. How's it going?
Student: ...
Me: Sorry. How are you?
Student: I'm fine, thank you. And you?
Me: I'm fine.
Student: See you.
Me: See you.
Anyway, I've gone off on a huge tangent here. I'm supposed to be telling you about my typical day.
After school (around 3:15) is cleaning time, when all the students clean different parts of the school. I'm sure you've heard about this wonderful utopia that is Japan where all the good little boys and girls help clean their schools while rainbow gumdrops fall like manna from the heavens. The reality, as is often the case, is quite different. First, students actually complain about having to clean, when "cleaning" in this case amounts to generally no more than pushing a swiffer around for five minutes and then calling it a day. Second, there is precious little cleaning involved. As I said, students gather together to push dust around for five to ten minutes. In the bathrooms, students take out a hose and spray down the urinals, toilets, and floor with water. That's it. No bleach, no soap, no nothing. Of course, the point probably isn't to clean anything, but to instill the students with a sense of ownership and responsibility for the school - the students will be less likely to deface that which they'll only have to clean up later on.
Even though I'm not technically a part-time teacher, I'm allowed to leave at 4:15 (the regular teachers can leave at 5 though many stay far later than that - this is Japan after all). Again, if it's not raining, I make the return journey towards home. Depending on what Katie and I've decided to eat for dinner, I'll pick up a few ingredients at the MaxValue near our house. Katie doesn't get home from work until 7:30, so I have a few hours to kill. I'll watch TV or movies I've downloaded, read, do dishes, snack, etc. until Katie walks in the door. If I'm the one making dinner for the night, I'll typically start prepping the ingredients around 6:30 or so, so that it's all ready to go on the fire when Katie walks through the front door.
We eat dinner anywhere from 8 to 9, then have dessert (usually pudding we picked up on sale at MaxValue) in front of the TV and, during this time of the year, under the kotatsu. After dinner we clean up, make our lunch boxes for the next day, and go upstairs where we read until we fall alseep, which is generally around midnight.
Now the weekends are totally different: I don't work on Saturdays, but Katie does, so I do laundry and clean up around the house a little bit. Saturdays are also when I call my parents. I'm almost always able to talk to Mom; Dad's a little harder to get a hold of. Mostly I spend the day milling around the house until Katie gets home at the usual time. On weekend nights we've taken to going out for dinner instead of cooking, and with the selection of restaurants available on our street alone, we're never out of delicious options.
Sundays are our exploring days. It's on Sundays when we hop on a train and go somewhere of cultural significance. Recently, we've been on somewhat of a Kyoto kick, even though it's twice as far as the closest big city - Osaka. As a result, we've become pretty familiar with the ancient capital, so if anyone has a hankerin' to come visit Kyoto, Katie and I are practically certified tour guides.
Well, that's about it. Lather, rinse, repeat. If my tone seems dismissive or even depressed, don't be fooled. It's just that I've come to realize that daily life in Japan, even though I'm thousands upon thousands of miles away from home, is almost identical to daily life back home. We have our routines which we follow with nary a second thought. Most people seem pretty content with this situation as it stands, but Katie and I are the restless sort. Any downtime we have is spent plotting and planning our next great adventure, patiently enduring our routines until the day comes to go somewhere new, to experience something else.
-Bob
I get up in the morning at around 7. If I was smart the night before, I'd have already showered and packed my lunch, which usually consists of whatever Katie and I cooked the previous night. I pack my laptop in its case, grab my lunch bag from the fridge, and try to be out the door no later than 7:40. If it's not raining, I'll bike to work. It's a 40 minute journey from my front door to the school's front gate. The terrain is flat enough, so the ride isn't too strenuous, which allows to let my mind wander while I'm riding. I ride like everyone else: on the sidewalk and without a helmet, both baskets filled with my personal effects. I take two main roads to get to my school: one is the north-south road, Ama Ho Sen, which runs from South Amagasaki to nearby Takarazuka and beyond. The other in Route 2, the main east-west road that connects Osaka and Kobe.
If I'm lucky, I'll arrive at school at 8:15 - 5 minutes before the office announcements begin. I enter the sliding door leading into the staffroom, offer up my daily rounds of "ohayo gozaimasu!" (good morning!), throw my stuff down on my desk, stamp my hanko in the attendance book, turn on my laptop, take out the yoghurt or whatever I threw in my lunchbag to eat for breakfast, and start my day.
First period begins at 8:40. Periods are 50 minutes long, with 10 minute breaks in between. If I have a class, I'll use that in-between-time to make photocopies of any handouts I've made for the class, or simply to discuss and finalize the lesson plan with my team teacher. I don't teach the classes by myself, you see. Notwithstanding the aneurism I'm sure my students would experience if exposed to English with no intermediary to translate it into safe, comfortable, and wholesome Japanese, foreign teachers are, by law, prohibited from teaching by themselves in a government school. I'm not exactly sure why this is so, and I can't be bothered to find out. Besides, I really wouldn't want to teach alone anyway. As I said, there's really no way for my students and I to communicate with each other, barring the rudimentary skills we both possess in each others' respective languages, which for them mostly consists of "What is your hobby?" or "What do you like Japanese food?" or "America is very crime."
Even taking into account my busiest day, Monday, I teach no more than four out of six class periods a day, and that's just one day a week. Most days I teach two or three. The rest of the time I honestly spend in front of my laptop surfing the internet. Rarely, very rarely, I'll practice writing some kanji, but I can never remember them the next day. I wish I could find the will to be more productive, as there are so many better things I could be doing with my time. To my credit, I've developed a keen interest in political science - religiously following the 2008 Presidential Campaign, reading anything and everything I can about who's a fascist, who is or is not a Muslim, and who's forgotten to wear his or her flag pin this week. To be certain, I am not impressed with the level of political discourse back home.
At work I'm more or less a ghost. If I talk to any other teachers it's almost always the English teachers, and that's only because I have to plan lessons with them. Everyone else leaves me alone. Sometimes, such as when we have an office party after work at some bar or restaurant, I'll get to socialize with teachers with whom I never interact on a daily basis. Most of them are really nice, and even if we can't understand each other perfectly, we still manage to have fairly pleasant conversations. They won't talk to me at work, but I know it's not because they don't want to, it's just that the language barrier is too great, and the conspicuous lack of alcohol (not a problem at office parties) only further inhibits them. My failure to overcome this is my own fault; I don't study Japanese enough or practice it enough, I'm not very outgoing with the other staff or the students, I spend most of the day sitting at my desk instead of visiting student clubs or activities - everything the stereotypical JET is supposed to do to get the most out of their "JET experience".
I have no right to complain because I knew what this job was going to be like before I even set foot in Japan. I had read others' accounts of their time here on this Program. I knew that the number one complaint JETs had was "too much free time." You wouldn't think it would be a problem, would you? Most people would kill for a little more free time during their day. So I don't necessarily find that to be an accurate assessment. I'd prefer the phrase "lack of purpose". That, my friends, is a killer.
Don't get my wrong, it's not all doom and gloom. A lot of my students are joys, and some pop periodically into the staffroom just to say "hello!" Actually, the conversation goes just like this, every time:
Student: Hello. (Louder) Hello.
Me: Oh! Hello. How's it going?
Student: ...
Me: Sorry. How are you?
Student: I'm fine, thank you. And you?
Me: I'm fine.
Student: See you.
Me: See you.
Anyway, I've gone off on a huge tangent here. I'm supposed to be telling you about my typical day.
After school (around 3:15) is cleaning time, when all the students clean different parts of the school. I'm sure you've heard about this wonderful utopia that is Japan where all the good little boys and girls help clean their schools while rainbow gumdrops fall like manna from the heavens. The reality, as is often the case, is quite different. First, students actually complain about having to clean, when "cleaning" in this case amounts to generally no more than pushing a swiffer around for five minutes and then calling it a day. Second, there is precious little cleaning involved. As I said, students gather together to push dust around for five to ten minutes. In the bathrooms, students take out a hose and spray down the urinals, toilets, and floor with water. That's it. No bleach, no soap, no nothing. Of course, the point probably isn't to clean anything, but to instill the students with a sense of ownership and responsibility for the school - the students will be less likely to deface that which they'll only have to clean up later on.
Even though I'm not technically a part-time teacher, I'm allowed to leave at 4:15 (the regular teachers can leave at 5 though many stay far later than that - this is Japan after all). Again, if it's not raining, I make the return journey towards home. Depending on what Katie and I've decided to eat for dinner, I'll pick up a few ingredients at the MaxValue near our house. Katie doesn't get home from work until 7:30, so I have a few hours to kill. I'll watch TV or movies I've downloaded, read, do dishes, snack, etc. until Katie walks in the door. If I'm the one making dinner for the night, I'll typically start prepping the ingredients around 6:30 or so, so that it's all ready to go on the fire when Katie walks through the front door.
We eat dinner anywhere from 8 to 9, then have dessert (usually pudding we picked up on sale at MaxValue) in front of the TV and, during this time of the year, under the kotatsu. After dinner we clean up, make our lunch boxes for the next day, and go upstairs where we read until we fall alseep, which is generally around midnight.
Now the weekends are totally different: I don't work on Saturdays, but Katie does, so I do laundry and clean up around the house a little bit. Saturdays are also when I call my parents. I'm almost always able to talk to Mom; Dad's a little harder to get a hold of. Mostly I spend the day milling around the house until Katie gets home at the usual time. On weekend nights we've taken to going out for dinner instead of cooking, and with the selection of restaurants available on our street alone, we're never out of delicious options.
Sundays are our exploring days. It's on Sundays when we hop on a train and go somewhere of cultural significance. Recently, we've been on somewhat of a Kyoto kick, even though it's twice as far as the closest big city - Osaka. As a result, we've become pretty familiar with the ancient capital, so if anyone has a hankerin' to come visit Kyoto, Katie and I are practically certified tour guides.
Well, that's about it. Lather, rinse, repeat. If my tone seems dismissive or even depressed, don't be fooled. It's just that I've come to realize that daily life in Japan, even though I'm thousands upon thousands of miles away from home, is almost identical to daily life back home. We have our routines which we follow with nary a second thought. Most people seem pretty content with this situation as it stands, but Katie and I are the restless sort. Any downtime we have is spent plotting and planning our next great adventure, patiently enduring our routines until the day comes to go somewhere new, to experience something else.
-Bob
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Outrageously overdue
Ok, so I kind of let the blog get away from me for a month and a half, but to tell you the truth, not much has happened in that time. Some things of note:
My trip to Southeast Asia was great and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I highly recommend Malaysia as a tourist destination because 1.) everyone speaks English, and 2.) even though you're almost guaranteed to get the runs, the food is awesome. The best parts were the cheap food and tropical weather. Also, I enjoyed meeting fellow travelers from all over the world. In fact, that was probably the most interesting part out of the whole trip. Based on my encounters, I feel nothing but love for Canadians, the British, Australians, Austrians, Germans, New Zealanders, the French, Koreans, Chinese, Bulgarians, Bengalis, Malays, Indians, Swedes, and of course, my fellow Americans (one of whom was in the process of bicycling across Asia). I learned that I should be eternally grateful that English is the most popular second language in the world, because were it not for that, I wouldn't be able to talk to a great majority of these fine people.
Katie and I met up in Tokyo and saw quite a bit of the city. We were especially impressed by the good eats in Roppongi (including a relatively inexpensive Thai place which boasted a commanding 13th-story view of the city) and by the plastic food in Kappabashi, between Asakusa and Ueno. If you ever asked yourself, "Where can I find quality refrigerator magnets that look like pieces of sushi?" then this is the place for you. Of course, Tokyo being as large as it is defies even the most determined tourist to see everything in a mere three or four days, so Katie and I will definitely be going back for more.
On the home front, the third years are done with classes, which means I have even more free time to screw around on the computer at work. I also read, and sometimes, if I'm especially motivated, I open my Japanese textbook. On a positive note, however, I've pretty much learned what works and what doesn't in my classes, and my students' eyes don't seem quite as glazed over as they used to. I learned that they love intonation practice. The Japanese language being fairly flat in terms of intonation (think how a robot sounds when it talks), my students cannot seem to shake themselves of this habit when speaking English. To correct this, I overemphasize the sentences I read to them to a cartoonish degree. Example: "HOW do I GET to the STORE?" taking extra care to force my voice through its full range. I then have the students repeat over and over again, refusing to stop until they've all made complete fools of themselves. Only then can the real learning begin.
In other news, our friend Adam, who now lives in Korea, visited us this past week. Unfortunately, Katie and I had to work, so he was forced to explore the local sights largely by himself. He seemed like he had a pretty good time, all in all, but I got the sense he was pretty disturbed by how cold it actually was in our house. He brought us delicious homemade kimchi (pickled vegetables, usually cabbage, in chili sauce), which we appreciated greatly.
For whatever reason, Katie and I keep getting sick. I got some kind of cold when I got back from Singapore, Katie got a horrible 24 hour stomach bug, which I got about two weeks later, and now we both have colds again. Ugh. It seems everyone's sick right now, though. Everywhere you look, the Japanese are sporting those surgical face masks all over the place. I can't imagine that they actually do anything for you other than signaling to other people, "Hey! I'm sick! Stay away!" But when you're riding trains and buses all over creation, and the little old grandpas and little old ladies haven't quite mastered the art of covering their damn mouths when they cough, it's pretty easy to contract all manner of nasties. I can only hope that this will improve as we move into spring and, hopefully, warmer weather.
Because of our frequent illness, Katie and I haven't been out gallivanting around Japan as we were wont to do, so you won't find too many new pictures or descriptions of all the new places we've been. We'll try to get on that as soon as we stop coughing...
-Bob
My trip to Southeast Asia was great and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I highly recommend Malaysia as a tourist destination because 1.) everyone speaks English, and 2.) even though you're almost guaranteed to get the runs, the food is awesome. The best parts were the cheap food and tropical weather. Also, I enjoyed meeting fellow travelers from all over the world. In fact, that was probably the most interesting part out of the whole trip. Based on my encounters, I feel nothing but love for Canadians, the British, Australians, Austrians, Germans, New Zealanders, the French, Koreans, Chinese, Bulgarians, Bengalis, Malays, Indians, Swedes, and of course, my fellow Americans (one of whom was in the process of bicycling across Asia). I learned that I should be eternally grateful that English is the most popular second language in the world, because were it not for that, I wouldn't be able to talk to a great majority of these fine people.
Katie and I met up in Tokyo and saw quite a bit of the city. We were especially impressed by the good eats in Roppongi (including a relatively inexpensive Thai place which boasted a commanding 13th-story view of the city) and by the plastic food in Kappabashi, between Asakusa and Ueno. If you ever asked yourself, "Where can I find quality refrigerator magnets that look like pieces of sushi?" then this is the place for you. Of course, Tokyo being as large as it is defies even the most determined tourist to see everything in a mere three or four days, so Katie and I will definitely be going back for more.
On the home front, the third years are done with classes, which means I have even more free time to screw around on the computer at work. I also read, and sometimes, if I'm especially motivated, I open my Japanese textbook. On a positive note, however, I've pretty much learned what works and what doesn't in my classes, and my students' eyes don't seem quite as glazed over as they used to. I learned that they love intonation practice. The Japanese language being fairly flat in terms of intonation (think how a robot sounds when it talks), my students cannot seem to shake themselves of this habit when speaking English. To correct this, I overemphasize the sentences I read to them to a cartoonish degree. Example: "HOW do I GET to the STORE?" taking extra care to force my voice through its full range. I then have the students repeat over and over again, refusing to stop until they've all made complete fools of themselves. Only then can the real learning begin.
In other news, our friend Adam, who now lives in Korea, visited us this past week. Unfortunately, Katie and I had to work, so he was forced to explore the local sights largely by himself. He seemed like he had a pretty good time, all in all, but I got the sense he was pretty disturbed by how cold it actually was in our house. He brought us delicious homemade kimchi (pickled vegetables, usually cabbage, in chili sauce), which we appreciated greatly.
For whatever reason, Katie and I keep getting sick. I got some kind of cold when I got back from Singapore, Katie got a horrible 24 hour stomach bug, which I got about two weeks later, and now we both have colds again. Ugh. It seems everyone's sick right now, though. Everywhere you look, the Japanese are sporting those surgical face masks all over the place. I can't imagine that they actually do anything for you other than signaling to other people, "Hey! I'm sick! Stay away!" But when you're riding trains and buses all over creation, and the little old grandpas and little old ladies haven't quite mastered the art of covering their damn mouths when they cough, it's pretty easy to contract all manner of nasties. I can only hope that this will improve as we move into spring and, hopefully, warmer weather.
Because of our frequent illness, Katie and I haven't been out gallivanting around Japan as we were wont to do, so you won't find too many new pictures or descriptions of all the new places we've been. We'll try to get on that as soon as we stop coughing...
-Bob
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