Lookin' Out My Own Eyes

I am happy to have a mom that insisted I come home for Christmas. Traveling Japan or going to exotic beaches sounded so much cooler than Lindenhurst, Illinois and so for a brief moment I felt sorry for myself that I was spending my time in the place I'd been living at for 22 years. This quickly passed when I found myself in the company of those who know me. It was a perfectly timed break, both for leaving and coming. Getting out of Japan was essential, just as essential was coming back here.

A friend from college was visiting a former exchange student of our college for New Year's. However, this former exchange student--Tomoka--now works in Tokyo and had to get back to it the Monday following New Year's. So our friend--Sophie--came and lived in Yamadanosho with me for a little over a week.

I had to go back to work too but it wasn't so bad. Classes didn't start until January 8th so I took long lunches with Sophie. During her week here Sophie rode my bike around the beauty that is Oku, Okayama. During lunch I'd get my fill of our delicious concoctions as well as her stories about her travels.

She told me about the cranes, who seem made for a world that passed hundreds of thousands of years ago. She told me about some really beautiful shrine that was both inviting to her curiosity and off-putting given her foreignness and unfamiliarity with such things.

On Friday the 9th she came with me on one of my kindergarten visits and then to lunch at Oku Junior High School. Five months ago I was lucky if one of the students said a barely audible "Hello" in response to my greetings. But as Sophie and I approached school, a group of second year girls ran up to us shouting "Hello! How are you?" and "Nice to meet you" to Sophie. All of this unprompted.

When I met one of the P.E. teachers this summer she wouldn't speak English to me. She was very kind and remains one of my favorites but she just isn't into English. I understand. I hate chemistry. I don't hate chemists, I just hate the subject. Sophie and I stumbled upon her in the locker room where I hang my coat. The P.E. teacher looked directly at Sophie and said without any coaching or encouragement from me, "Hello. My name is Mayuki Masamoto. Nice to meet you."

Living each day, each week, I've missed the change that's been happening at Oku Junior High School. Things can always be better. They can always be easier. But that shouldn't cloud my ability to see things as they are today.

Over break I went to see "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" with my parents. I loved it. It's not for everyone, but I was in love within the first 15 minutes I think. Brad Pitt's character was born old and grows younger throughout the movie. It's just his body; he goes through all the other stuff like anyone else, he's just in a body opposite from the normal aging process. Anyways, another character asked him what it's like to grow younger instead of the older. He replies, "I don't know. I'm always lookin' out my own eyes."

And that's just it, isn't it? Having people in our lives isn't just nice, it's essential.It gives us a chance at a perspective we couldn't have without them. No doubt, it was fun being back at school. There was a holiday spirit in the air and I was genuinely happy to be in the company of my co-workers and the students again. But without Sophie I wouldn't have had the chance to see the beauty in a life that can be seen only from the outside.

And I, like all of us, will continue living my life looking out my own eyes. But what a blessing to have the company of others, the view of someone else. Simple things like crane sightings and enthusiastic "Hellos" seen through another's eyes.

Happy Holidays!

I'll be home for the holidays!

"Yoiotoshio!"
Have a good year!

The Incident of the No Hot Water Blessing

Ugh. No hot water, no time for breakfast. That's how the morning began.

My already cold hands (it's about 35 degrees in the house in the mornings) got ice cold from washing my face in cold water. I fiddled with my water heater display box for a bit but no luck. No hot water. Fiddling took up more time than I realized and so I was rushing out the door, leaving my bowl of cereal milkless and uneaten.

Bad start.

On the ride to school I prayed that when I got home the hot water would work.

My principle let me out early. This week we have parent-teacher conferences 4th-6th period. That's right. That means I'm sitting at my desk, no classes to teach, from 4th-6th period. He saw me still at my desk at 4:00pm and told me to go home. "Dozo, dozo" he said, "Go ahead."

On the ride home a thought flashed through my mind that maybe it was good fortune to get off early in case my hot water still didn't work...

...I was right. I tried several more times, at several faucets but no hot water. I am prone to tears, it doesn't take much to get me welled up. So, invariably, I had a little sit down at my kitchen table and cried from frustration and more than a little bit of self-pity.

My supervisor is a home room teacher so she was still in meetings at 4:30pm, when I was ready to stop crying and, ya know, do something. I called another English teacher, the only one without a home room, and she was on it in no time.

She decided it was probably a gas problem (I have a gas stove and apparently that's what heats my water too). She called the gas company and they came to my house by 5:00pm. Hot water was running through my faucets by 5:15pm.

And that's when I realized the blessing of no hot water. In America, this would be just a brief annoyance. An inconvenience but not instructional in any way. I'd call the gas company myself, get things sorted out, and go about my day angry at the waste of time.

In Japan, this incident became another way to see my many blessings. I'm not alone here. No, I can't call the gas company myself and no, I still don't know what went wrong or how to prevent it from happening again. I do, however, have great coworkers who will help me with any problem, at any time (I called this same coworker at 7:00am on Saturday when I woke up to the fat lip I had this summer). They help without fanfare and without making me feel silly or like a burden.

Don't get me wrong, I look forward to eating breakfast tomorrow and washing my face with hot water. I am aware, though, that some things are more important than physical comforts.

Things like counting my blessings.

Japanese is Easy?

Okay, so no secret, Japanese can be real difficult. Besides the three alphabets--one with an endless number of characters--there is all the different ways say the same thing, with the added bonus that you can pick the wrong one. You can be so wrong, in fact, as to really offend someone.

The social hierarchy of Japan is reflected in it's language: "teineigo" is polite language that you use when speaking to your superiors and in formal situations. However, it's weird to use this among friends since it seems impersonal/cold. There are levels to "teineigo" as well. The informal way to say "to go" is "iku." A more polite way to say this is "ikimasu." The most polite way (students are supposed to use this form when talking to or about teachers) is "irrashaimasu."

There are aspects to the language, though, that are quite easy. Because of the emphasis on group harmony, there are a lot of set codes of conduct in Japan. Language mirrors this emphasis. Phrases that seemed pointless or obscure while I studied Japanese in college now make up at least 80% of my working knowledge of Japanese.

When I enter the staff room for the first time in them morning I'm to say "ohaio gozaimasu" or "good morning." When I leave for the day I say "osakini shitsureishimasu" which means "sorry for going ahead of you." The other teachers respond with "otsukarasamadeshita" which means "thanks for all your hard work." My school's a bit more informal so I drop the "osakini" when leaving and the teachers only respond with "otsukarasamadeshita" after a special event like Sport's Day. They all say something to me, though, as I leave whether it is in Japanese or English ("See you" is very popular with both the students and teachers).

When I first learned these phrases they seemed obscure not to mention hard to pronounce. However, they are of great comfort now. At least in these set phrases I can be confident I'm doing the right thing. I don't have to go through a list of phrases, struggling to pick out the right one for this context. All I have to do is say that one thing and everyone knows what I mean and what I'm doing. That's a great comfort.

What's challenging at time is coming up with English equivalents. The question "How do you say...." is a difficult one to answer. For example, Japanese people say "ittekimasu" when they leave somewhere to go somewhere else. This phrase combines the verbs "go" and "come" so you can kind of get the implication. My teachers say it when they leave a conversation with coworkers to get to their classes on time. One of English teachers asked me recently "what do you say in English for 'ittekimasu?'"

Huh?

I was stumped. I couldn't think of anything, I drew a blank. After class I looked up the phrase in a couple dictionaries to see how other people translated it. "I'm off; see you later" was the most satisfying answer so I told her that one but then explained that there isn't one common phrase we use, that's it's different in different situations. For the really polite and apologetic, "I'm sorry. I hate to leave but I have to get somewhere now," or for the laughably slang, "Peace out."

Then another caveat, we usually don't just say "see you later" without explaining our leaving first. "I have to go meet a friend now. See you later." In this instance, Japanese is much easier. After saying "ittekimasu" you just head off, leaving the listener with the trouble of reasoning out where it is you're going and why.

English provides a lot of room for individual choice, though. Some conversational flare. This choice is both rewarding and overwhelming for the students in my classes who are used to a language and a culture where they know exactly what they ought to say/do at any given time.

So when I think about how hard Japanese is to learn, especially because it's cultural context is so different from my own, I must remember that the students I teach and the teachers I teach with are facing the same difficulty, just oppositely.

Simple Things at Kindergartens

Wow.

November was a vapor.

It's getting cold in Japan these days. While my family is braving temperatures well below freezing I am bitter about it hitting 45 degrees. Of course, that was the temperature INSIDE my house; with no insulation and no central heating I am spared only the elements and the breeze when I step inside. But I imagine I'll survive. It's in the realm of possibilities at least.

I only have one junior high to work at so unlike most ALTs I don't have to think about juggling lesson plans or holiday schedules; I'm just here. There are two sides to every coin, though, and the convenience of one school has of course some downfalls. For example, when the students are in a testing period I don't visit my other school because I don't have one. I sit at my desk. All day.

The students just finished up term tests. Thankfully, part of my job is to visit kindergartens about once a month. The Board of Education has thoughtfully planned many of these visits for me around testing periods so at least one day I have something to do.

Not only are these visits a nice change of pace ("a change of environment" my supervisor said with a smile) but they are 100% encouraging.

Most of the teachers can speak only the most basic English and prefer not to. However, unlike most native speakers, these women spend most of their days talking to 3-5 year olds so it is not difficult for them to dumb down their Japanese for me. I have had two successful meetings with teachers where we've lesson planned...in Japanese! Of course, the plans usually go something like this: "We'll sing a song about fruit and then play a game. I'll teach them 'Hello!' and 'Goodbye!' and give them a sticker." Nonetheless, it's these little triumphs that provide immense amounts of motivation to keep up with the Japanese study.

In my most recent kindergarten visit (the little dude in the picture is a 3 year old from this school) they asked me to spend 2 hours out of a 3 1/2 hour visit playing with the kids. I was more than happy to do this--I have only held two jobs that didn't involve childcare--and yet I felt a little guilty. "I'm getting paid to teach kids English but here I am just goofing off with 3 and 4 year olds." I couldn't have been more wrong.

In the other kindergartens I've visited the kids are often very scared of me and warm up only as I'm about to leave. One little girl cried when she had to sit next to me. I didn't take it personally even though back home this kind of reaction would be devastating to me. Since she was only 3 years old, I reasoned, she had probably never seen a foreigner in real life. A white giant was in her school and to top it off she had to sit next to the monster! I get it.

But at the school where I played most of the day the kids immediately took hold of my hands, said "Let's play!" and dragged me into to the playground. I barely had time to throw off my indoor shoes and put on my outdoor ones. They spent the rest of the day dragging me here and there, exhausting every English word/phrase they knew ("I like mango" and "Look at me").

I believe in the importance of play. I had never, however, considered it in the realm of internationalization and language learning. Even the really shy kids asked me to count off how many jumps they could jump rope; none of these kids saw my foreignness as something to fear. I was just another adult to them, someone they could drag here and there, someone who was inherently interested in everything they did.

It's hard for me to be like those kids. To see all people as playmates, to say "let's play!" without asking questions, without weighing the risk. One day, when I grow up, I want to have a heart like those kindergartners. I want to hold your hand, drag you here and there with me. I want to laugh with you. At simple things that cross cultures and languages. Simple, important things.

Biking Japan in the Rain, Heat, and Wind

Like a lot of my fellow ALTs, I ride a bike to school. It's a pretty sweet bike, complete with granny basket, and headlight. I like it.

I only have a ten minute bike to school. In fact, everything I need I can get to in less than ten minutes. All the rice fields tricked me. I'm not so isolated, really.


Like many kids born in the wasteland of strip malls and SUVs that is suburbia, I often fantasized about a world where you could get to where you're going without a car. The bicycle, like Robin Hood or Thoreau, was an inspiring ideal that fell short of my reality. Upon arriving in my town in Japan one of things I was most looking forward to was purchasing a bike.


The thing about riding a bike to school everyday is that you have to ride a bike to school everyday. While I appreciate the long over do exercise this necessity is subjecting me to, I appreciate it far more on mild days with clear skies. Biking in the rain, heat, and wind do not fall under the "mild" category. Just to clarify.

Biking in the rain:

By some gracious act of God I have not yet had to bike to school in the rain. One tricky morning I woke up to thunderstorms. I raced to get ready, put my purse and school bag in plastic bags, and get my amazing raincoat on. I was running late because that's what I do plus the added time to weather-proof myself and my belongings and so I had to peddle like crazy. Peddle like crazy as the birds sang into the clear blue skies that broke 30 seconds into my ride. My amazing raincoat is really, really protecting and as such there is no breath-ability to it. In a downpour, great. In the sunshine as you're pumping your legs as fast as they go, not so great. Sweaty.

I have had to bike home in the rain several times. This doesn't bother me so much because once I'm off work I don't mind if my clothes get soaked. This is not to say I enjoy biking in the rain. I don't really even like walking in the rain.

Some highlights: zipping up my neon green raincoat complete with hood to the laughter of both teachers and students, a raindrop with great aim blinding my one eye for half the ride home, and near death while I tried out (the one and only time) holding an umbrella while biking. Though technically illegal, this move is universal among Japanese bike riders from the young to the old. It takes practice.

Biking in the heat:

During the first month and a half I was biking to school in 90 degree heat with the humidity at about 600% (if someone tells you there is no such thing as 600% humidity I invite such a person to spend August in Japan). Even a slow-paced ride produces a waterfall of sweat from the pores because despite the breeze biking creates, the sweltering humidity encases you.

Now, allow me to introduce you to the sad fact of my mornings: I am always running late. Especially during that first month when I was adjusting to a hugely different time zone and a new, lonely house I had a need to turn that 10 minute bike ride into about a 6 minute one. It can be done. The consequence is, however, arriving to school out of breath and pouring sweat while all around the lovely Japanese teachers don't so much as glisten sweat.

Biking in the wind:

Compared to Chicagoland winters, the winter weather of my region in Japan is super mild. It'll rarely fall below zero degrees. However, I never biked anywhere back home. For recreation, yes. As my means of transportation, not so much. So, while I am used to the type of cold that freezes your nose hairs and knocks the breath out of you I am not familiar with biking in anything besides gorgeous weather.

On a windy, cold day after hurriedly doing my hair, taking too much time to try to get it right, I step outside and am immediately assaulted by the harsh winds. The hair's gone. Soon to follow is the make-up: add these cold winds to the wind I create while biking and my eyes water from the time I get on the bike until I arrive at school. So I fond myself in a vicious circle these days: running late because I take too much time getting ready only to mess the whole thing up as I bike in the howling wind. Something about mountains and valleys and the sea.


I'll probably miss these bike rides when time here is done.

Some Perspective as the Economy Rumbles

A couple weeks ago my school gave me a recontracting form. This misleadingly simple-looking document represents a big decision. One that I won't have to make until February 6th, thankfully. I had always intended on this experience being a one year deal but am now on the fence in a big way. As I told someone recently, I'm going to put the thought of another year in Japan away in my mind and see if time persuades me to either side.

Recontracting was a major topic of discussion as I hung out with other ALTs this weekend. Many have decided "yes" or "no" but equally as many are in my position. Though this is not a major factor (as it shouldn't be) the economy in our respective countries and how much money we're making now has been brought up many times. The fear of a recession, another Great Depression, loom in most of our minds. With these conversations fresh in my mind I stumbled upon a news story today at school that was ironic and prophetic in many ways. The story takes place as the economy rumbles, stops and starts.

A contractor was working on a house and found a stash of money hidden inside a wall dating back to the Great Depression. $182,000 to be exact. At a time when banks were drowning, families homeless and starving, a man hid almost $200,000 in the walls of his house for a rainy day that I guess never came for him.

As if that measure of greed and lack of compassion wasn't prophetic enough to give us some perspective on our present condition, the reason this find is even making news is because the contractor and the homeowner were never able to reach an agreement on how to split the money. This feud went on so long and was so heated that a newspaper picked the story up. Once it appeared in the news, the descendants of the Depression-era hoarder wanted in on the loot.

The home owner, who owns at least one other property that was recently foreclosed, spent or lost much of the money. The contractor has lost business, he says, because of the negative view many clients now hold of him. (Click here for the full story).

Wow. The contractor said it best when he explained that finding the money "was a neat experience" and "something that won't happen again." The rest that followed, though, was regrettable he said. That's a good reminder to relish in the simple, extraordinary moments that grace our days.

It's a good reminder to keep some perspective on the value of money as the economy rumbles.