So, I've been to the future, and it's fantastic. Thanksgiving is November 27th, but we had our Thanksgiving on Saturday. We got up at 5:45 on Saturday to make the trek out to Imabari for Stef's prenatal appointment (and church on Sunday).
John spent all day preparing food for a branch Thanksgiving dinner. The Scotts made all the good stuff you're used to: turkey, gravy, cranberry sauce, apple pie, pumpkin pie, chocolate cake, stuffing, and more. Other people brought mashed potatoes, cheesy scalloped potatoes, drinks, Pringles, rice, and sushi. Stef made brownies and an eggplant-noodle dish.
A whole bunch of people showed up to the chapel. There was plenty of food to go around. Before we started eating, John took a moment to explain the tradition of Thanksgiving in America. After telling the revisionist story that we all learned in school, he said that the food we were eating was the same food the pilgrims ate for their harvest festival of Thanksgiving. I wondered aloud how grateful the pilgrims must have been for Pringles.
The food was great. It was neat to eat all the traditional Thanksgiving foods with chopsticks.
We used to do grocery shopping on the weekends, but now we go through a catalogue and order food online. Stef writes down the code numbers and quantities for all the items that we want, and I input them on a website by Tuesday night at 7. The next Monday, our food is placed on the Uoshima ferry and arrives at 4:40. Items that need refrigeration come in a styrofoam box with dry ice. Everything else comes in cardboard boxes. It's very convenient, even if the prices aren't always the best. It's worth not having to travel, and I'd actually guess that we spend less this way.
I had Monday off, so we stayed with the Scotts on Sunday night so that we could get some shopping done in Imabari. The boat ride was pretty wild; the wind was so strong that they weren't even sure if they'd let the boat leave. We needed to get to Yuge in time to reach the boat that arrives at 4:40 in Uoshima. Otherwise, we might not have made it back on Monday and our food could have spoiled. Even though the waves were high and the ride was bumpy, we got home safely and got to put our groceries away. One of these days I'll give a more detailed account of our trek to church. It's quite grueling.
On a different subject, when we were decorating for Halloween, on the window Stef stuck little rubbery goo stickers in the shape of ghosts, jack-o-lanterns, witches and cats. She also spelled out HAPPY HALLOWEEN for passersby to read. Kelsey found them. One by one, she would climb up on the couch and grab one while we weren't looking. At first, we got mad that she was ruining the decorations. HAPPY HALLOWEEN slowly turned to HAP HALLOW, or some other such nonsense. But then, we realized that they weren't that important, and we had only spend a couple bucks on them anyway. It wasn't a big deal. By the time that Kelsey had whittled our decorations to HA LOL, we had already learned to laugh at the situation. Kelsey really is a cute little girl. We'll be happy if her little sister is half as cute.
That's right. We're having a girl! :D
Monday, November 24, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Blog posts? It's time for "nuh-one"
So, Kelsey's talking quite a bit now. She can say a ton of things: boat, movie, 'nanas, I love you, treat, poopoo, shoes, slide, drink, juice, bing (the sound the toaster makes), toast, running, me, you, yep, yes, no, no-no, choo-choo, Mommy, Daddy, blue, Nemo, cat, kitty, Mama's sleeping, and pretty much anything we ask her to say.
As a linguist, I'm fascinated by some of the things she says.
Backpack: It's hard to say the velar stop consonant /k/, and much harder to say it directly before moving to the bilabial stop /p/. Even though she can say "cat" and "kitty", she hasn't figured out how to produce the /k/ when it comes at the end of a syllable. She omits the first /k/, and turns the second /k/ into the closest voiceless stop consonant she can say at the end of a word: /t/. Kelsey loves her "bapat".
Kelsey likes to point at things and tell us what they are. For example, on the ferry ride, she points out the window at a passing freighter and says, "Boat!" If another boat passes, however, she'll say, "nuh-one!" If she wants another piece of chicken, she'll point to ours and say "nuh-one!" Every additional cat she sees after the first is a "nuh-one!" Her love of pointing out "another one" of everything she sees has subtly influenced some other words she says.
She hasn't yet figured out how to say /r/ or /l/, which is normal for her age. When 2+ syllable words end in either /r/ or /l/, she'll often pronounce it as an /n/. Pillow becomes /piwwone/ ('one' pronounced like the number), shower becomes /showone/, towel becomes /towone/. It's very cute.
Before Kelsey started talking a lot, she would follow Stef around with her arms up, wanting to be held. Stef would ask Kelsey, "Do you want me to hold you?" And Kelsey would say "Yep!" When Stef was cooking, Kelsey would beg for attention, putting her arms up and whining to be held. Stef, preparing the food, would say, "I can't hold you right now."
Kelsey heard "holdyou" as one word. Up until recently, when she wanted to be held, she'd walk up to Stef and say, "Holdyou! Holdyou!" While very cute, Stef and I wanted to make sure that she understood that she should say say "hold me!" instead. So, after a week or two of drilling it into her, she now says, "Holdyou..........me! Holdyou..........me!" She's very entertaining.
Kelsey now says "'scuse you!" when someone passes gas, including herself. It's very cute. I'm sure that, before long, after passing gas she'll say "'scuse you.........me!"
As a linguist, I'm fascinated by some of the things she says.
Backpack: It's hard to say the velar stop consonant /k/, and much harder to say it directly before moving to the bilabial stop /p/. Even though she can say "cat" and "kitty", she hasn't figured out how to produce the /k/ when it comes at the end of a syllable. She omits the first /k/, and turns the second /k/ into the closest voiceless stop consonant she can say at the end of a word: /t/. Kelsey loves her "bapat".
Kelsey likes to point at things and tell us what they are. For example, on the ferry ride, she points out the window at a passing freighter and says, "Boat!" If another boat passes, however, she'll say, "nuh-one!" If she wants another piece of chicken, she'll point to ours and say "nuh-one!" Every additional cat she sees after the first is a "nuh-one!" Her love of pointing out "another one" of everything she sees has subtly influenced some other words she says.
She hasn't yet figured out how to say /r/ or /l/, which is normal for her age. When 2+ syllable words end in either /r/ or /l/, she'll often pronounce it as an /n/. Pillow becomes /piwwone/ ('one' pronounced like the number), shower becomes /showone/, towel becomes /towone/. It's very cute.
Before Kelsey started talking a lot, she would follow Stef around with her arms up, wanting to be held. Stef would ask Kelsey, "Do you want me to hold you?" And Kelsey would say "Yep!" When Stef was cooking, Kelsey would beg for attention, putting her arms up and whining to be held. Stef, preparing the food, would say, "I can't hold you right now."
Kelsey heard "holdyou" as one word. Up until recently, when she wanted to be held, she'd walk up to Stef and say, "Holdyou! Holdyou!" While very cute, Stef and I wanted to make sure that she understood that she should say say "hold me!" instead. So, after a week or two of drilling it into her, she now says, "Holdyou..........me! Holdyou..........me!" She's very entertaining.
Kelsey now says "'scuse you!" when someone passes gas, including herself. It's very cute. I'm sure that, before long, after passing gas she'll say "'scuse you.........me!"
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Drumroll please
So, we're having a .....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
............................................................baby!
Ha, just kidding! I know you want more information than that.
O.K., the gender of the baby is ...................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
..............................................................something that we're not going to find out for another 5 weeks!
So, the doctor was too lazy to wait a minute for the baby to flip around during the ultrasound. "It's too early to tell" is Japanese for "I don't want to have to take the time to find out the sex, and I don't care if you really want to know. You're in my country, and you're going to do things my way. Deal with it, buddy."
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
............................................................baby!
Ha, just kidding! I know you want more information than that.
O.K., the gender of the baby is ...................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
.....................................................................................
..............................................................something that we're not going to find out for another 5 weeks!
So, the doctor was too lazy to wait a minute for the baby to flip around during the ultrasound. "It's too early to tell" is Japanese for "I don't want to have to take the time to find out the sex, and I don't care if you really want to know. You're in my country, and you're going to do things my way. Deal with it, buddy."
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
The Killer Bingo Instinct
So, the kids here love to play bingo. I remember playing bingo, hangman, and all sorts of other games as a kid. But bingo is where it's at in Japan. As part of a lesson, I created a bingo game for one of my students. The squares of a 5-by-5 board were filled with pictures of different foods and depictions of different actions. Below each picture was a phrase, such as "Do you like...?" (under grapes, pizza, etc.) or "Can you drive a..." (under a car, boat, etc.) Each square had a spot where you would guess the answer of the person to your left. After guessing the other person's preference or ability, each person would ask one question per turn. The object of the game was to guess correctly on five consecutive spaces, resulting in "bingo". The middle space was free, of course.
This bingo game was actually the second such game that I played with my students. Only having one student the first time hampered things a bit (I wonder who's going to win?)*, so I included sheets for the other teacher and me. I figured that I'd take it easy and give the student a chance to win. This was my downfall. She avoided, at all costs, any kind of victory. When she had three or four in a row, she would change rows and go for another random square. I had to lie about what I thought she would answer so that I wouldn't win. I expected the game to last about ten minutes. Twenty minutes later, when we were still playing bingo, I decided to put her out of her misery and win the game. I feel bad winning, but there was really no other choice! We would still be playing the same bingo game today, Stef would be wondering where her husband went, and I would be clawing Japanese swear words into my skin.
What happened to the killer bingo instinct? Why would she not try to finish the game? Her shyness had nothing to do with it, as she could have gotten out of the game more quickly by winning. Is it a Japan thing? I have yet to complete a bingo game that the kids won (after a huge sample of 2 games). Are they so worried about standing out that they don't even have the killer bingo instinct? Will I ever understand the Japanese mind? The world may never know.
*The answer: nobody. Nobody won, because of unseen forces that caused fiery darts of imaginary pain when he considered going for the fifth square.
This bingo game was actually the second such game that I played with my students. Only having one student the first time hampered things a bit (I wonder who's going to win?)*, so I included sheets for the other teacher and me. I figured that I'd take it easy and give the student a chance to win. This was my downfall. She avoided, at all costs, any kind of victory. When she had three or four in a row, she would change rows and go for another random square. I had to lie about what I thought she would answer so that I wouldn't win. I expected the game to last about ten minutes. Twenty minutes later, when we were still playing bingo, I decided to put her out of her misery and win the game. I feel bad winning, but there was really no other choice! We would still be playing the same bingo game today, Stef would be wondering where her husband went, and I would be clawing Japanese swear words into my skin.
What happened to the killer bingo instinct? Why would she not try to finish the game? Her shyness had nothing to do with it, as she could have gotten out of the game more quickly by winning. Is it a Japan thing? I have yet to complete a bingo game that the kids won (after a huge sample of 2 games). Are they so worried about standing out that they don't even have the killer bingo instinct? Will I ever understand the Japanese mind? The world may never know.
*The answer: nobody. Nobody won, because of unseen forces that caused fiery darts of imaginary pain when he considered going for the fifth square.
The language
I'm still struggling a bit with Japanese. I'm understanding a lot, and I can say quite a bit now. I've even had multiple effective phone conversations in Japanese. But the sheer amount of implicit information in Japanese daunting.
The other day, I was leaving class after teaching a lesson. Goda-sensei, with whom I team-teach Tetsuya, told me that Maegami-sensei was holding a math lesson for Tetsuya. Nice, I thought.
What I didn't understand was that the Japanese equivalent of "Maegami-sensei is holding a math lesson for Tetsuya" actually means "All of the teachers from the school are obligated to attend this math lesson for reasons that nobody can or ever will explain. If you don't go, the principal with seek you out and give you a look of shame and an invitation (summons) to the aforementioned class."
I sat through the class, which didn't appear to be any different from any other class I've seen in Japan. None of the teachers participated, and everyone just watched Tetsuya's normal, everyday lesson. I'm still not sure why I had to go, but I'm sure I'll soon be blogging about how I didn't know that I was supposed to write a 15-page report on Tetsuya's math lesson.
The other day, I was leaving class after teaching a lesson. Goda-sensei, with whom I team-teach Tetsuya, told me that Maegami-sensei was holding a math lesson for Tetsuya. Nice, I thought.
What I didn't understand was that the Japanese equivalent of "Maegami-sensei is holding a math lesson for Tetsuya" actually means "All of the teachers from the school are obligated to attend this math lesson for reasons that nobody can or ever will explain. If you don't go, the principal with seek you out and give you a look of shame and an invitation (summons) to the aforementioned class."
I sat through the class, which didn't appear to be any different from any other class I've seen in Japan. None of the teachers participated, and everyone just watched Tetsuya's normal, everyday lesson. I'm still not sure why I had to go, but I'm sure I'll soon be blogging about how I didn't know that I was supposed to write a 15-page report on Tetsuya's math lesson.
Souji
I have a confession to make. I used to hate cleaning. Wipe that baffled look off your face--it's true. As recently as 2 weeks ago, I hated all types of cleaning. Today, I find myself a changed man.
Every morning, I lumber up a hill to school. Upon arrival, one of the teachers is always ready to pop a Japanese pop CD into the school PA system. The music signals the beginning of souji, our cleaning time. Rather than hiring a janitor, many schools in Japan leave the cleaning to the teaching staff and students. In the morning, we usually clean the school grounds by weeding and raking. At first, I didn't know where to go. I'd look around to see what other people were doing and try to make myself as transparent as possible.
Morning cleaning had nothing on afternoon souji. The music would start and everybody would disappear. Sometimes I'd go the whole session without seeing another soul. I'd grab a rag and start scrubbing something.
I'm pleased to announce that I've changed. Do I hate cleaning now? Yes. But at least I know what's going on. It turns out that there's a cleaning schedule written in kanji, the elaborate writing system borrowed from Chinese. Even after this revelation, I still struggled to know where I should clean. It always seemed like people were just cleaning the same things over and over, even though they weren't dirty. Luckily, I have an advantage that helps me find new things to clean: I'm almost two meters tall. I no longer have to search for places to clean; I just clean the hall walls and windows where nobody else can reach them!
As for the outside, I found that they don't really care what you're doing as long as you look busy. Every morning, I trudge up the hill, grab a hoe, and head off to a corner to yank weeds. As I crouch down and hack at the ground, I take a few minutes to meditate about lessons, future plans, and anything else that's pressing. Okay, so I still hate cleaning. But souji time is actually pretty therapeutic now.
Every morning, I lumber up a hill to school. Upon arrival, one of the teachers is always ready to pop a Japanese pop CD into the school PA system. The music signals the beginning of souji, our cleaning time. Rather than hiring a janitor, many schools in Japan leave the cleaning to the teaching staff and students. In the morning, we usually clean the school grounds by weeding and raking. At first, I didn't know where to go. I'd look around to see what other people were doing and try to make myself as transparent as possible.
Morning cleaning had nothing on afternoon souji. The music would start and everybody would disappear. Sometimes I'd go the whole session without seeing another soul. I'd grab a rag and start scrubbing something.
I'm pleased to announce that I've changed. Do I hate cleaning now? Yes. But at least I know what's going on. It turns out that there's a cleaning schedule written in kanji, the elaborate writing system borrowed from Chinese. Even after this revelation, I still struggled to know where I should clean. It always seemed like people were just cleaning the same things over and over, even though they weren't dirty. Luckily, I have an advantage that helps me find new things to clean: I'm almost two meters tall. I no longer have to search for places to clean; I just clean the hall walls and windows where nobody else can reach them!
As for the outside, I found that they don't really care what you're doing as long as you look busy. Every morning, I trudge up the hill, grab a hoe, and head off to a corner to yank weeds. As I crouch down and hack at the ground, I take a few minutes to meditate about lessons, future plans, and anything else that's pressing. Okay, so I still hate cleaning. But souji time is actually pretty therapeutic now.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
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