As this is my first Hanukkah/X-mas/New Year's living abroad, I should think it understandable that after I got home from work and logged onto the other job, one of my co-workers dutifully reminded me that some people will not be working Monday (this was in reply to an email where I provided Monday as an estimated completion time for a task I'm working on). Christmas is not a holiday here in Japan, and though I won't be teaching on Monday, that is only because my weekends are Sundays and Mondays.
My last class today ended on a surreal and distinctly Japanese note, evoking a feeling sort of similar to that when I rode homeward tandem after a late night party. It was one of my group classes, a class I get along with very well, even though they are one of my least advanced groups. Our rapport has nothing to do with the fact they were all girls, aged 18-30 (usually the class is a group of 7, six girls, one very obviously gay guy, but today a few people didn't show). Right, nothing at all.
We decided not to work too hard because it was their last class of the year, so we chatted as best we could for an hour (as I subtly fed them new vocabulary) and studied for ten minutes. After class, like in most of my classes for the last week, I thanked everyone for a good year, wished them a safe and happy holiday, and said that I'd see them again next year. Then something new happened: at once, they all said thank you and subsequently bowed. Usually I'm flattered when a student decides to call me Andrew-sensei, because the term implies a certain amount of respect (as I understand it, anyhow, based on the students who have opted to do as such). This was something entirely different, maybe even fulfilling in a way?
I know I'm not cut out to be a programmer for the rest of my life, and I don't think I'm slated to be a teacher, but maybe I'm getting closer to figuring out whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing.
Postscript: Call me Andrew-sensei and you will taste the cold, dark steel of ninja death. I have that power now.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
This Old Hag
Every week my problem student gets worse (if you forgot or didn't read about her, see subsequent blog). Her daughter's due date is becoming increasingly imminent, and since they're currently cohabitating and she *hates* it, I can maybe understand if she's a little stressed. But she doesn't need to be such a snippy irascible old hagfish, not in my classroom anyhow.
Hagfish: ...like I know in your country kids dress up in bumble-bee costumes and sell lemonade.
Me: Eh... I'm sorry?
Hagfish: I saw on the tv program, she dressed up and sold lemonade. On Full House.
[Right then, I lifted her up using the sheer force of incredulity, and tossed her through the glass window onto the cold, unforgiving street, reveling in the symphony of her pain. In my mind.]
Me: Ah well, you know, you can't really judge American culture based on what you see on Full House.
Hagfish: So which program can you? Family Ties? Growing Pains?
Me: Well, I don't think you can generalize America based on a tv show.
Hagfish: Why not?
Me: Well, tv programs are formulaic, they follow a system. Usually at the start of the program, they'll be presented with a problem, and then 25 minutes and one commercial break later it will be solved and everyone will be happy. Life isn't like that.
I then spent several minutes explaining how west coast culture differs from east culture and there could be some remote possibility of a west coast bumble-bee-costume-wearing-phenomenon that I'm not aware of, but I had never seen it. Ever. And with that remark, she gave the trademark "ah soo," as if she had learned I can crap chocolate cupcakes and pee rainbow sprinkles. You know, she uses English words and applies English grammar, but she certainly isn't speaking English.
Of course I mentioned her increasing indignation to the managers after class, and after a few laughs, one of them said, "Well, tomorrow is another day." I taught her that expression a few weeks ago. At least someone's learning.
Hagfish: ...like I know in your country kids dress up in bumble-bee costumes and sell lemonade.
Me: Eh... I'm sorry?
Hagfish: I saw on the tv program, she dressed up and sold lemonade. On Full House.
[Right then, I lifted her up using the sheer force of incredulity, and tossed her through the glass window onto the cold, unforgiving street, reveling in the symphony of her pain. In my mind.]
Me: Ah well, you know, you can't really judge American culture based on what you see on Full House.
Hagfish: So which program can you? Family Ties? Growing Pains?
Me: Well, I don't think you can generalize America based on a tv show.
Hagfish: Why not?
Me: Well, tv programs are formulaic, they follow a system. Usually at the start of the program, they'll be presented with a problem, and then 25 minutes and one commercial break later it will be solved and everyone will be happy. Life isn't like that.
I then spent several minutes explaining how west coast culture differs from east culture and there could be some remote possibility of a west coast bumble-bee-costume-wearing-phenomenon that I'm not aware of, but I had never seen it. Ever. And with that remark, she gave the trademark "ah soo," as if she had learned I can crap chocolate cupcakes and pee rainbow sprinkles. You know, she uses English words and applies English grammar, but she certainly isn't speaking English.
Of course I mentioned her increasing indignation to the managers after class, and after a few laughs, one of them said, "Well, tomorrow is another day." I taught her that expression a few weeks ago. At least someone's learning.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Down with pants!
Down with pants!
It's days like the other day when I'm grateful for my appreciation for the absurd. Adam Sandler, Matt Groening, crazy mumbling vagrant at UPenn who used to talk into his shoe as if it were a phone... I salute you! You have all made my life that much easier.
My most difficult student is also one of my most advanced, so I don't so much teach her as talk to her (it's a group lesson of two, but she tends to dominate). During that 70-minute argument often misconstrued as a class, we're supposed to discuss a different article every week. Usually the article gets about five minutes of our collective attention.
The problem student is a habitual complainer. She's a grandmother and her daughter, who is pregnant, will be giving birth in a month. I don't understand why, but her daughter, son-in-law, and their 1-year-old will all be spending the next two months at the student's house. This causes her no end of displeasure, and she has no reservations about telling us about it ad nauseam. Please bear in mind that this is the same student who, with a straight face, attempted to persuade me that "child abuse originated in America."
Last week we were talking about who knows what, when we ventured into the topic of whaling, which I know very little about. My student complained that America unfairly exerts its will on Japan by preventing them from whaling. Her argument was that, "It's not fair for them to protect the whales just because they think they're cute and cuddly." She was, of course, dead serious.
"Well, I believe they're an endangered species, so there are only so many left. If Japan were given the freedom to kill whales as it wanted, there would be no more whales." But I wasn't 100% sure of their status, so, leery of launching into an argument I couldn't adequately defend, I promised to look it up. I then discussed a recent article I had read in the daily paper about how the world needs to cut back on harvesting tuna, to which she immediately was able to relate.
So the other day, after looking it up, I was able to tell her with reasonable assurance that many whale species, if not all of them, are endangered.
"Who says they're endangered?"
"What? I looked it up. A wildlife organization."
"Really? Show me the website."
"I'd be happy to!"
"Well I don't think they're endangered."
"But... there have been studies -- there are only so many whales left. If you continue whaling, they will all die."
"I think they're wrong."
"Ok, but that doesn't matter [yes, I got a little snippy]. I imagine it's possible for there to be some sort of conspiracy, but it wouldn't make sense. There are only so many whales left, and if you keep killing them, there will be no more."
"Ok, forget it," she said, waving her hand.
For about thirty seconds, I couldn't believe the sheer idiocy of this woman. Sure, all of the studies and surveys could have been faked. Yes, 99.9% of the whales could be playing pachinko in an underwater resort, and will sometime in the next few years emerge, rub the sleep from their eyes, and say, "Oh crap, what day is it? I gotta get to work!" But this was 10 minutes into a 70 minute lesson so I shook it off and continued. After class, I mentioned it to Mrs. Eh, trying to curtail any damage in case a complaint were to be lodged, and I told her I was afraid that the student didn't much care for me. Mrs. Eh told me that all of the teachers have had problems with her, and she thought the student was actually fond of me. Sometimes, she said, the student comes in during the afternoon just to chat and she and her co-administrator get very nervous because the lady's just that unpredictable.
Some things here just don't make sense.
Another thing: the skirts. Almost all students from grade school through high school are required to wear a uniform. For girls, this means skirts, even in the dead of winter. It's looks pretty darn cold to me, even if they do sometimes opt for tights (many of them don't, and opt instead for shortening their skirts to be more slu... fashionable). I wholeheartedly believe that the skirts are a major contributing factor to the rank lolita-ism prevalent in adult Japanese males. It's like the Catholic schoolgirls fetish in the US, minus the Catholic, and it's ALL of them. So I figured: "Remove the skirts, remove the problem." And then I realized that the entirety of the straight Japanese male population would love that plan. Maybe just a skirt-pants swap is in order.
And another thing: misguided first impressions. Big O, who I initially thought would be a major character, is a flake, and has strange political notions, not to mention his social habits. And I've discovered that Two-Face, despite my absolute loathing of her mannerisms and seemingly constant patronizing, may in fact be an ok person. It's really hard to tell. Oh well, naught to do but continue learning.
It's days like the other day when I'm grateful for my appreciation for the absurd. Adam Sandler, Matt Groening, crazy mumbling vagrant at UPenn who used to talk into his shoe as if it were a phone... I salute you! You have all made my life that much easier.
My most difficult student is also one of my most advanced, so I don't so much teach her as talk to her (it's a group lesson of two, but she tends to dominate). During that 70-minute argument often misconstrued as a class, we're supposed to discuss a different article every week. Usually the article gets about five minutes of our collective attention.
The problem student is a habitual complainer. She's a grandmother and her daughter, who is pregnant, will be giving birth in a month. I don't understand why, but her daughter, son-in-law, and their 1-year-old will all be spending the next two months at the student's house. This causes her no end of displeasure, and she has no reservations about telling us about it ad nauseam. Please bear in mind that this is the same student who, with a straight face, attempted to persuade me that "child abuse originated in America."
Last week we were talking about who knows what, when we ventured into the topic of whaling, which I know very little about. My student complained that America unfairly exerts its will on Japan by preventing them from whaling. Her argument was that, "It's not fair for them to protect the whales just because they think they're cute and cuddly." She was, of course, dead serious.
"Well, I believe they're an endangered species, so there are only so many left. If Japan were given the freedom to kill whales as it wanted, there would be no more whales." But I wasn't 100% sure of their status, so, leery of launching into an argument I couldn't adequately defend, I promised to look it up. I then discussed a recent article I had read in the daily paper about how the world needs to cut back on harvesting tuna, to which she immediately was able to relate.
So the other day, after looking it up, I was able to tell her with reasonable assurance that many whale species, if not all of them, are endangered.
"Who says they're endangered?"
"What? I looked it up. A wildlife organization."
"Really? Show me the website."
"I'd be happy to!"
"Well I don't think they're endangered."
"But... there have been studies -- there are only so many whales left. If you continue whaling, they will all die."
"I think they're wrong."
"Ok, but that doesn't matter [yes, I got a little snippy]. I imagine it's possible for there to be some sort of conspiracy, but it wouldn't make sense. There are only so many whales left, and if you keep killing them, there will be no more."
"Ok, forget it," she said, waving her hand.
For about thirty seconds, I couldn't believe the sheer idiocy of this woman. Sure, all of the studies and surveys could have been faked. Yes, 99.9% of the whales could be playing pachinko in an underwater resort, and will sometime in the next few years emerge, rub the sleep from their eyes, and say, "Oh crap, what day is it? I gotta get to work!" But this was 10 minutes into a 70 minute lesson so I shook it off and continued. After class, I mentioned it to Mrs. Eh, trying to curtail any damage in case a complaint were to be lodged, and I told her I was afraid that the student didn't much care for me. Mrs. Eh told me that all of the teachers have had problems with her, and she thought the student was actually fond of me. Sometimes, she said, the student comes in during the afternoon just to chat and she and her co-administrator get very nervous because the lady's just that unpredictable.
Some things here just don't make sense.
Another thing: the skirts. Almost all students from grade school through high school are required to wear a uniform. For girls, this means skirts, even in the dead of winter. It's looks pretty darn cold to me, even if they do sometimes opt for tights (many of them don't, and opt instead for shortening their skirts to be more slu... fashionable). I wholeheartedly believe that the skirts are a major contributing factor to the rank lolita-ism prevalent in adult Japanese males. It's like the Catholic schoolgirls fetish in the US, minus the Catholic, and it's ALL of them. So I figured: "Remove the skirts, remove the problem." And then I realized that the entirety of the straight Japanese male population would love that plan. Maybe just a skirt-pants swap is in order.
And another thing: misguided first impressions. Big O, who I initially thought would be a major character, is a flake, and has strange political notions, not to mention his social habits. And I've discovered that Two-Face, despite my absolute loathing of her mannerisms and seemingly constant patronizing, may in fact be an ok person. It's really hard to tell. Oh well, naught to do but continue learning.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
And now for something completely illustrated.
Some long overdue pictures of a martial arts festival, a trip out to the country to see the pampas grass, a trip to Arima, and two trips to Kyoto. I like about ten of them (not fishing for praise/contradiction), but unfortunately no time to caption.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Teaching
What I teach and how I teach have been the subject of some speculation. Generally it goes like this: I shoot the breeze for the first 2/3 of the class and then we work from the book for the last 1/3 (it is, after all, a conversation school). There are some classes where this format is impossible, for example, in those classes where the students just don't want to talk, the student (I'm thinking of one) is strung tighter than wound up Japanese fish guts, or I'm just plain tired.
All told I teach about 60 students in lessons both private and group, the latter ranging from two to seven people. Many of my students are a ton of fun, and the misunderstandings are always a riot. Today, one of my beginner-ish students told me that she bought some books on WWII (in Japanese, of course), so we were talking about them and somehow made our way to US immigration policy. I spent about five minutes talking and illustrating (I use the white board excessively) to her about the Cuban Refugee Adjustment Act and the sad state of Cuban immigration practices. Then she tried explaining something about American soldiers, but unable to find the right word, she said "American octopus." Good times.
The same student told me a few weeks ago that she will soon be vacationing in Hawaii. "Where in Hawaii will you be going?" I asked.
"Oahu. Most Japanese go to Oahu," she said, explaining that there are many Japanese-speaking people who live there so it's easy to visit. Wondering if that would be her only vacation spot, I asked, "Maui?"
"No, I'm single," she said. Give it two seconds if it didn't hit you (it took me a few to figure out at the time). "Married," she thought I said.
Problems arise with a disparate phonemic register. The Japanese don't have a "see" sound, so they use "shi" as the closest approximation when they speak and when they listen. Problems arise when they think you are talking about a "pussy-person."
One of my students is practicing for the interview portion of the TOEFL exam, which she will likely take sometime late next year. For part of the interview portion, the applicant is given a minute to answer a question like, "Tell me who you most admire and why." Today I introduced a new question: "If you could live at any time in history, when and where would it be and why?" I gave her three minutes and was standing by to answer any questions she might have had (she's not ready for the real deal yet), but she seemed to be ok. After three minutes, I asked her to start. She began, "I would choose the future." A few seconds after my head hit the desk and I repeated the question, she understood.
In one of my group lessons, we read novels. The novel they read before I started teaching was Passage to India. Not a good idea to try teaching Passage to India to those who are learning English, let alone those who are studying it. I chose Italo Calvino's Marcovaldo with very positive results. I am now, in fact, the foremost expert on Italo Calvino for... I'd say about 1500 miles. Japanese professorship, here I come!
I've taught about Lost and Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure. I've taught about the tooth fairy and politics. I've spent time discussing the relationships in Beverly Hills 90210 (older American shows, as well as current ones, are popular here, and they're *obsessed* with 24) and I've taught the fundamentals of Judaism. Basically I teach whatever the heck I feel like. If you have suggested topics, I'm all for them. If there's anything you want to learn, I can find that out too. (E.g., when Japanese lose their lower teeth, they throw them on the roof; when they lose their upper teeth, they bury them or throw them at the ground or chuck them under the house -- answers varied).
It's a different world from where I come from. No comments expounding on cultural relativism please.
All told I teach about 60 students in lessons both private and group, the latter ranging from two to seven people. Many of my students are a ton of fun, and the misunderstandings are always a riot. Today, one of my beginner-ish students told me that she bought some books on WWII (in Japanese, of course), so we were talking about them and somehow made our way to US immigration policy. I spent about five minutes talking and illustrating (I use the white board excessively) to her about the Cuban Refugee Adjustment Act and the sad state of Cuban immigration practices. Then she tried explaining something about American soldiers, but unable to find the right word, she said "American octopus." Good times.
The same student told me a few weeks ago that she will soon be vacationing in Hawaii. "Where in Hawaii will you be going?" I asked.
"Oahu. Most Japanese go to Oahu," she said, explaining that there are many Japanese-speaking people who live there so it's easy to visit. Wondering if that would be her only vacation spot, I asked, "Maui?"
"No, I'm single," she said. Give it two seconds if it didn't hit you (it took me a few to figure out at the time). "Married," she thought I said.
Problems arise with a disparate phonemic register. The Japanese don't have a "see" sound, so they use "shi" as the closest approximation when they speak and when they listen. Problems arise when they think you are talking about a "pussy-person."
One of my students is practicing for the interview portion of the TOEFL exam, which she will likely take sometime late next year. For part of the interview portion, the applicant is given a minute to answer a question like, "Tell me who you most admire and why." Today I introduced a new question: "If you could live at any time in history, when and where would it be and why?" I gave her three minutes and was standing by to answer any questions she might have had (she's not ready for the real deal yet), but she seemed to be ok. After three minutes, I asked her to start. She began, "I would choose the future." A few seconds after my head hit the desk and I repeated the question, she understood.
In one of my group lessons, we read novels. The novel they read before I started teaching was Passage to India. Not a good idea to try teaching Passage to India to those who are learning English, let alone those who are studying it. I chose Italo Calvino's Marcovaldo with very positive results. I am now, in fact, the foremost expert on Italo Calvino for... I'd say about 1500 miles. Japanese professorship, here I come!
I've taught about Lost and Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure. I've taught about the tooth fairy and politics. I've spent time discussing the relationships in Beverly Hills 90210 (older American shows, as well as current ones, are popular here, and they're *obsessed* with 24) and I've taught the fundamentals of Judaism. Basically I teach whatever the heck I feel like. If you have suggested topics, I'm all for them. If there's anything you want to learn, I can find that out too. (E.g., when Japanese lose their lower teeth, they throw them on the roof; when they lose their upper teeth, they bury them or throw them at the ground or chuck them under the house -- answers varied).
It's a different world from where I come from. No comments expounding on cultural relativism please.
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