One of Those ALTs...

It didn't take long to understand how long ALTs are remembered in a small town. Maybe this isn't true of all schools/areas but in mine the ALT is usually the only exposure anyone has with people who aren't Japanese.

I especially think about this in relation to the students I interact with. I am very conscious about providing the students every opportunity to use English. And in the process I think I may have become one of those ALTs. The ALT that knows nothing about Japanese culture, refuses to use Japanese, and in general doesn't try to embrace her life here but rather tries to transplant her American life. Now obviously that's a bit of an exaggeration but I worry about how little of an exaggeration it is.

There's this worn out (though I'm sure sincere) storyline about ALTs who refuse to use Japanese with their students until one day they decide to give it a shot and find that their students ease up because they see their ALT messing up too and there's this moment of solidarity and the students and ALT form a wonderful bond that carries them through boring worksheets and exhausting exams.

As nice as this story is it will never be mine. No matter how much my Japanese improves (it can only go up from here) I will never use it in the classroom and rarely outside of it. The role I've fashioned for myself is as a communication coach. I'm their dummy; they can test out their expressions and explanations on me.

This approach is sometimes not so successful and it puts me in a position to be overlooked by the less motivated students. I realize this and it's unfortunate; I wish I could encourage all 500 students to study English but that's chotto muri (a little impossible). What I can encourage are students who will give it a try, who will bravely raise their hands and direct their question at me instead of the Japanese teacher.

This bravery has led to impromptu versions of pictionary, charades, and 20 Questions as we struggle to understand each other. Their creativity always astounds me. One student drew a timeline on his worksheet with the words "present" and "future" written on it. Pointing to the blank dot he asked, "How do you say this English?" And he learned the word for "past" that day.

As I was walking back from a class not too long where two students pulled off the pantomime for "graduate" I was smiling to myself, feeling pretty good about my method. At my desk, though, I began to think about all the students who would never try such a stunt, who might want to talk to me but are afraid that I won't understand if they need to use some Japanese. Maybe my method was a bit selfish, making them do all the work as I sit in my English bubble? Maybe I really was one of those ALTs, one who's just too scary to talk to.

However, I recently had a speaking test that confirmed that though my method is not without flaws, it can produce amazing results.

One of students went from a score of little over 50% on her last test to almost 100% on this one. Her name is Miho. She likes to draw cherry blossoms on everything. One day in class we were playing BINGO. Instead of X's she was drawing cherry blossoms in the boxes.

I pointed at the drawing and said, "Cute!" She replied with, "sakura," the Japanese word for "cherry blossom." And I said "cherry blossom." Her eyes got big and she repeated the words a couple times, giggling after each time (foreign languages are funny and I think it would be easier for adults to learn them if we felt more freedom to laugh at the silliness of foreign sounds).

And that was Miho's turnaround. No longer the sweet but apathetic student she participates in class and talks with me after class. During lunch couple days ago she came up with this description for a famous Japanese drag queen: "A large hair woman gentleman." Grammatically correct? Not entirely, no. But it is effective, isn't it?

That's what I envisioned when I began to formulate my role as a communication coach. There are a few things you to effectively communicate in another language and here's the top two: creativity and opportunity. By always using English I am providing the opportunity that they wouldn't have otherwise; though the Japanese teachers know English there's not much motivation to speak with them in English since it'd be so much easier to speak in Japanese. And the creativity, that's all them.

So maybe for some of the students I will be remembered with a little resentment as one of those ALTs. But it's things like the "graduate" pantomime and Miho's test scores that strengthen my resolve to use English, to provide the opportunity to use English for communication outside of the set textbook sentences. Different styles work for different ALTs and different schools; I am well aware that being an English test dummy won't work for everyone or even for most people. But being one of those ALTs is working for this ALT. At least for now.

Afraid of a Prize?

Well, despite living in a country where congratulating oneself is a bit unseemly I will proudly say that my Japanese is improving.

Like a lot of things in life, it took a bit of getting over myself and my fears but eventually I found myself in the position I am now where 9 times out of 10 I'm celebrating a little victory.

One thing that helped was buying a couple phrase books and relying on those more than my textbooks (read: I am no longer studying from a textbook). What's so encouraging about studying from phrasebooks is that these are the things people say everyday.

Unlike "I have been to the places marked in red on this map" which I am confident I will never hear or say in Japanese, I've already heard two people at school use "That surprized me" since learning this sentence three days ago. Eventually I'll need to get back to learning grammar, when I become constricted by the inflexibility of set phrases, but that's not now. Now I just need some things to keep the conversation going as I brush my teeth after lunch with the middle-aged music teacher.

Yet despite this encouraging progress there are still some things I fear. Today I discovered that there is such a thing as a scary prize. I know, I know. Normally I would be all about free things, especially in the form of a prize. However, not all prizes are 100% fun.

As I got in line today in the convenience store, or konbini, I noticed the woman in front of me was offered a box with Dragon Ball Z characters all over it. She reached into the box and pulled out 4 tickets (I was able to understand that the clerk had instructed her to do this). One of the tickets was a lucky one; she got a free drink. However, in order to redeem this free drink she was asked a series of questions and I wasn't able to make out even the gist of any part of these questions.

Oh crap.

I considered my options (dropping the chapstick I came to buy and running out the door, pretending to be deaf and/or blind, staring at the clerk blankly until he gives up on me) but I couldn't make a decision and found myself at the counter with the terrifying prize box taunting me and my poor Japanese.

Chapstick rung up. 313 yen paid. Now the moment of truth.

"Take one ticket," he said with the same smile all konbini clerks have. I pulled it out and noticed it didn't look like the lucky one the lady in front of me had. I was safe. I was instructed to please keep that ticket because.....and then I lost him but I just smiled back and said Hai, hai (though it means "yes, yes" this is totally noncommittal and does not denote understanding like it does in English). I made it out. Safe!

So, until this Dragon Ball Z promo blows over I might just have to avoid the konbini and the terrifying prospect of a prize.

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.