Sunday, September 23, 2012

Routine

Autumn came in a day.

Wednesday's hot rays of the sun turned into Thursday's cold breezes. The enveloping humidity gave way to a rainy calm. I was outside without a sweater on Thursday night and I felt...cold. That night, I knew I wouldn't need the air conditioner. I have never been subjected to such an abrupt seasonal change. The trees which line the countryside are still largely green, but the red and brown leaves are appearing one-by-one, more every day.

I will now regale you with the heart-warming and detailed tale of my typical workday.

I wake at around 6:45. I try to do good things in the morning, like stretch, eat a good breakfast, make my bed, and do my hair, though I usually only have time for three out of the four. Grabbing an umbrella as I walk out the door (because you never know,) I begin my drive to work at 7:30. My 1999 Nissan Pulsar has a toll-card-system that beeps at me: BEEEP! kaado ga sounyuu sareteimasen! (The card is not inserted!) I hear it every morning as I'm backing out of my parking space. I usually play my iPod via the tape player. The sound that comes out sounds like what comes out of a dinky cell phone, but it's so much better than nothing.

I turn left onto my tiny narrow street that only one car can fit on, onto the main street, and then onto the highway. A few minutes later and I'm on the narrow, windy, road that I take all the way to school. Mountains always on my right, the river on my left. I pass dozens of small businesses: restaurants, car repair shops, barbers, grocers. I fight to keep my eyes firmly on the road lest I be tempted into gazing through the window at the sound-of-music view of the mountains and the meadows and the rolling river. I drive parallel to both the river and the local train line. The shinkansen bullet-train track once juts incongruously through the valley. If I'm lucky, I get to catch it flying by, spending only a few seconds in the open air before it's back into another tunnel. After half an hour on the road, I turn into my school, drive a couple hundred feet down yet another way-too-narrow path, and park in a dusty gravely lot with room for about 10 cars. I turn off my iPod, step out of the car, and take in the humidity and bug sounds. My work shoes crunch the gravel and clack on the concrete. I reach the entryway, take off my work shoes (which I guess aren't work shoes after all) and put on my indoor slippers. Then I step into the teachers' room.

Ohayou gozaimasu!!!! ("Good morning!") is the first thing you must say every day. And everyone must say it back to you. Then I stamp my name-stamp on my attendance sheet. It is a small round stamp that says "Rebecca." And it means I was there that day. Then I sit at my desk. It's only about 8:00, and my work start time isn't until 8:15, but you have to get there early; you have to, or else it seems like you're not dedicated to your work. God forbid you EVER get there late. The morning music plays on the PA system; it's the same song every single day. By the end of this year I will forever and always associate this song with the morning meeting time. I organize and try to read some Japanese materials being passed around, or check on which lessons I have that day, plus a few more rounds of ohayou gozaimasu, until the morning meeting starts. The principal and VP give a few announcements, as well as any other teachers who have anything to say. I try to understand but usually understand about half at best.



This is the teachers' room. Lots of messy teacher desks, lots of conversations. We use the adjacent kitchen to prepare green tea or barley tea for ourselves.

Classes start. My JTE (Japanese Teacher of English) and I traipse up to the 2nd floor classrooms, picture cards, textbook, and pen in hand. Ms. Muto: "Okay let's start." Students stand up. A student: "Hello, Miss Muto. Hello, Rebecca." All other students echo in unison. Ms. Muto: "Hello everyone!" Me: "Hello everyone! How are you?" Students in unison: "I'm ____, thanks, and you?" Me: "I'm ____!" Every class must start this way. Then they sit down.



A classroom. Natural lighting is utilized much more than in the fluorescently-lit classrooms of the States.

Class lessons and activities are varied but usually entail me assisting Ms. Muto by pronouncing lists of words to the students, which they echo, and reading picture cards to them. Students learn grammar points by memorizing dialogues and sentences and learning direct translations. Each lesson is a unit which uses dialogues to incorporate grammar points and sometimes-random-sometimes-useful vocabulary. At times the students' lessons are counterintuitive to my own notions of what makes learning fun and interest-grabbing and I feel they aren't learning real communication at all. Although I sometimes feel aversion to the Japanese method of classroom learning, I try to remind myself that it is not "worse", just different. And you certainly can't argue with the fact that Japanese students for the most part are beyond well-behaved and respectful. The Japanese school system and cultural views are intertwined, and the longer I live here the fuller idea I have of exactly how the cultural system manifests itself in all aspects of life. However, this will be its own entry once I process it more.

Lunch is spent eating in the classrooms with the students. All food is doled out by the students themselves, wearing cute little lunch-lady outfits and masks. Three or four students on a rotating basis serve to their whole class. Once everyone has all their food (which can take long enough for it to become lukewarm,) we say "itadakimasu" ("I receive [this meal]".) I pick one class a day to eat with. Since I've decided to (mostly) speak English with them, and they (mostly) don't speak any, this usually entails awkward silence at whatever table I happen to be sitting at. But I'm told this will improve as they warm up to me more. Lunch time is also the time where I pick the strips or pieces of meat out of the school lunch and receive confused stares from all students. There is always meat but rarely is a meal so meat-based that I don't get enough to eat. The lunch time music also plays, usually 4 or 5 songs. When lunch is over, we all say together "gochisousama deshita("it was a feast.") I think these pre- and post-eating chants are beautiful and show a deep gratitude for the privilege of having enough to eat.

Since our whole school is only three classes, I usually teach three classes a day and sit in on another one, leaving at least two periods of the day free. Sometimes I perform personal duties such as budgeting, trip planning and meal planning, sometimes I study Japanese, sometimes I read my lesson-planning books, and sometimes I not-so-inconspicuously use my phone. I always check, grade and correct students' English notebooks, though that doesn't take long. Feeling underutilized and struggling through the communication barrier every day in the teachers' room is one of my biggest stressors at work. I can never be a normal member of the team. I am a special little fawn who must be told what to do. But guys, I'm not really that stupid. I'm actually quite capable and independent, just not with this massive communication barrier. You don't see the real worker-me at all. It's handicapping, but not miserable. I know my co-workers realize it too and we try our hardest to make things work. I try to help out as much as I can and work hard as much as I can, although there is only so much I can do, and my true amount of responsibility at school is small indeed. The more comfortable I get at school, the more clearly I see how I can go above and beyond my stated responsibilities so that I will actually feel like I'm accomplishing something at this school.

At 3:15 school is over and cleaning time begins. I usually forget it's happening and run upstairs in a rush to help the students clean their classrooms. I've become quite the master of the hataki or Japanese duster. Instead of feathers it uses strips of cloth. I dust the chalk-covered shelves and the items on them. I organize stacks of books and pick up tiny straw wrappers from the floor. I do not usually do the heavy cleaning the students do, such as cleaning out bathroom drains or rubbing the classroom floors with a cloth. (Even in my elementary school the first graders clean their classroom and bathroom in this way.)They play the same cleaning music every day too. Here is one of the songs.



By 3:45 most students are gone for the day. The 3rd-graders (a.k.a. 9th graders) go home, ostensibly to study, while the younger two grades stay at school and do bukatsu, or club activities. I've heard tell that some larger middle schools have clubs such as sewing club, English club, drama club, kendo club, etc. Since my school has only 52 students, we have soft tennis and basketball. And that's it. So my final hour at school is spent hearing their club chants: A giant "ganbarimasu!" ("we will try our best!") before starting their practice, continuous shouts of "nice serve!" and "nice catch!" as they practice, and a rousing "arigatou gozaimashita!" ("thank you very much!") when they finish. I'm technically able to leave at 4:00pm, but unless I need to catch a train or something, I usually stay until at least 4:15 or 4:30, so it doesn't look like I'm dying to get out of there. All JETs are told to do this. It is the Japanese style of working. As younger and newer workers, we MUST be dedicated, hardworking, and obedient. (Note that being creative or having an optimistic personality are not similarly valued.) As I'm exiting the teachers' room, I must say "O saki ni shitsurei shimasu" ("It's rude of me to leave earlier than you!")Since I do leave earlier than almost all my co-workers, I absolutely must say this every day when I leave.

In the evenings, I return to my cubicle of an apartment and do normal things such as going on the internet, cooking dinner, grocery shopping, or cleaning. Sometimes I go for a walk (not by the places where bats live though.) Some nights I eat dinner out with other Shibukawa people or travel to Takasaki by train. On Tuesdays I go to Japanese conversation practice. I think my evenings will get busier as I take on more responsibility at my school and in my community, but for now I enjoy the freedom I get from ~5-10pm most nights. Since I find myself frequently tired at work (because I am bored and not challenged enough so I naturally feel my fatigue more) I try to sleep early and get a decent amount of sleep.

Life is happening both slowly and quickly at the same time. While some workweeks seem to last forever, I cannot believe it's been nearly two months. My routine, my comfort, my baseline, is turning into this lifestyle. It's not a novel and uncomfortable experience but my new normal.

Monday, September 17, 2012

walk home

Through my various weeknight and weekend adventures, and because it gets dark here so early now, I often find myself walking home alone from the train station at night.

I'm lucky to live only a 10-minute walk from the train station. But in order to achieve that time, I must take a shortcut route which leads me down an unlit concrete path, through a spiderweb-laden tunnel, down dark unpaved side streets and finally to the side gate of my apartment complex. On more occasions than not, my own walk has been accompanied by the quick steps of men's dress shoes no more than twenty paces behind me. The unceasing shrill chime of Japan's many insects and the distant whoosh of passing cars complete the symphony. To say I have at times been slightly unnerved is an understatement. I feel a brisk, permeating alertness which prohibits me from listening to my iPod or checking my phone. I walk quickly and determinedly, more than ready to jump over that meter-high gate. I try to remind myself of many things. Yes, those are literally thousands of potentially large insects, but they probably won't bug you if you don't bug them. Yes, that is a man walking behind you, but he's probably not going to chase you. Yes, it is dark, but everything is actually exactly the same as it exists during the day.

My feet reach the gate, and I throw my purse over my shoulder, gladly jumping over the gate, running up the steps to my apartment, jamming my key in the door, and stepping inside. Phew, back to safety once more. I've done this walk a dozen times already and I will do it hundreds more. And each time, though I still feel unnerved, it gets easier and easier to make it home without worry. It takes guts to step outside of what you know. You open yourself up to risk and fear. You pass new things which you didn't know would scare you. But at the end of the day your old fear can become your new comfort zone.

This has been your cliché analogy for the day.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

One-Month Mark



I went to Tokyo this weekend to visit friends. The big, bustling city life appeals to me on a temporary level but in the end I feel it's too crowded and rushed for me. The frenetic pace, crazy high amount of people and consumerism EVERYWHERE is exciting, but I actually feel overwhelmed by it after a short amount of time. I grew up in cities, but obviously none this big. New York City affects me the same way.

BUT, I was immensely happy to see friends from many different walks of life who all found themselves in Tokyo. :) And after a day of the big city, I was happy to stumble upon Inokashira Park in the Kichijouji area of Tokyo, a brilliant glimpse of nature in the metropolis.







And let's not forget about the HAMMOCK CAFE:



School is in full swing, so to speak, and while I do find myself experiencing the phenomenon known as trained-teachers-find-JET-too-confining, for the most part things couldn't be better. My students are absolute ANGELS, the schools and their surroundings are beautiful, I'm developing good relationships with my JTEs and other coworkers, and the summer mushiatsui swelter is beginning to cool off into a cool suzushii. (Not that that makes me any more excited for autumn's approach...my favorite season is coming to a close. But, thinking about the green leaves actually turning red/yellow/brown is exciting nonetheless.)

I also started my Japanese conversation "class" at the community center this week. It was me and five Japanese people having a choppy conversation, no joke. But more foreigners will come next week (so I'll have some support), and it's just another great opportunity for all-Japanese conversation practice for me. It's easy to get deluded by every other Japanese person saying "Ohh you're so good!!" every time a single word pops out of my mouth, but really, I'm still such a beginner and have so far to go. And I'm not just saying that because I'm humble or whatever, I'm truly still a beginner, despite what the love-to-humor-you Japanese people may have to say.

I'm also learning that it's okay to make cultural mistakes and that I am expected to, so it's not a shock or surprise or catastrophe when I do. It's not my fault or anyone's fault, it's just part of life. And in general Japanese people are very nice about it. But that's a catch-22: as part of my acclimation I've got to learn to read in between the lines and figure out what people mean and not what they are saying.



You're looking at my junior high school, facing west. (If you couldn't tell by the lowering sun.)

(BTW, every single time I write on this blog, I feel like it's so boringly serious, because I can't be myself, because that wouldn't be professional/mature of me [typing in caps, swearing, etc.] and I can't bring myself to do that on this public blog-for-the-archives. -_-;;)

English has so many arbitrary-yet-important conventions that I'm continually becoming aware of. Like above there, I used brackets inside parentheses. Because that's what you do. And my students like to reach the end of a line and just continue their word on the next line, mid-word, no matter where they were in that word. I could teach them about hyphenation and syllables but it's too complicated (literally the entire concept of syllables is different in Japanese) so I just told them never to break up a word between lines. You gotta pick your battles because if you fight them all your end result will be much worse than if you only fought a few.