I went to a burger shop today which had a window ad for a new burger "loaded with your hopes and dreams." With a serious expression, I pointed to the overhead menu and asked the girl at the register if the burgers truly contained my dreams and hopes. The register girl froze, unable to muster an answer, and the fortyish year-old lady managing the store behind her nervously cocked her head to the side and confirmed that my dreams and hopes were, indeed, included with the purchase of said hamburger.
I flashed a smile and both women laughed uncomfortably. After finishing my burger, I told the girl on my way out the door that my hopes and dreams were much tastier than I ever could have imagined. “Hai” was her only response.
In other weird Japan news, a group of seventh grade girls pulled me aside after class today to tell me how nice I smell.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Why Eigo Noto Sucks: or Why ALTs Feel Worthless
So, I’m consigned to the fact that my students aren’t going to learn English. I’m lucky if I see them more than once a month, which wouldn’t be a problem if they were getting adequate instruction on days I’m not there. I’m starting to question the effectiveness of teaching once a month to elementary school kids (ha!).
Like I said in my previous post today, Eigo Noto could be a very helpful resource for schools, since most of them aren’t going to be able to have a full-time ALT. Unfortunately, the lessons are so inefficiently organized that it’s almost a waste of time and resources. On top of that, a slew of questionable production decisions make it so that what they do learn is often tainted.
There are no grammar explanations*, and the teachers certainly don’t understand the grammar. But then they’re expected to perform with correct grammar in front of the whole class. For example, in the ninth and final section of the fifth grade book, the kids learn a couple phrases that are important to know at restaurants: “What would you like?” and “I’d like ~”. The problem is that there were already three to four weeks of lessons for the same material earlier in the year, except we taught them that waiter will ask, “What do you want?”, to which you respond, “I want ~”. Which, of course, they have long-since forgotten (not a huge loss, since you usually wouldn’t say those specific words at a restaurant—think “I’ll have ~” or “I’d like ~”). So, we have two lessons in the same text book that take up four weeks each, devoted to the same exact thing, just with slightly different wording.
*In the interest of full disclosure, I originally typed “There’s no grammar explanations”, which both I and Microsoft Word’s grammar checker know to be grammatically incorrect. I hung my head in shame before going back to my angry rant about bad grammar.
Since we also focused a few lessons on "What do you like?", the kids generally just revert back to that, since there's no contrast of current and previous vocab or grammar points.
There’s no sound in Japanese that matches the wo of would**, so Japanese people say, “oohdoh,” instead. The homeroom teachers have spoken English incorrectly their whole lives, so they don’t know that there’s anything to correct. The kids also don’t know that the ‘d in I’d is a shortened version of would, so instead, they’re forced to just parrot the two phrases. To make matters worse, most ALTs can’t speak Japanese well enough to give a detailed explanation of a grammar principle, so it never gets taught.
*It’s the same with woman, which is generally pronounced ooh-mahn in Japan, which could be a cool man-horse hybrid (horse = uma in Japanese)
I take time out of the lesson to correct overall pronunciation, and to draw diagrams that help people understand how to produce sounds correctly or remember a grammar concept. If necessary, I’ll give an explanation in Japanese. I’d like to think that it helps, since they always seem to come around—but I’m sure they forget it the moment I walk out the door. After all, they won’t see me for another month.
Like I said, the teachers were often taught incorrectly, so the ignorance spreads like wildfire. Here’s an actual exchange in which my friend Crescenda took part:
Crescenda: How do you say 猫(cat) in English?
Student: uh…kyaht-tah?
Homeroom teacher: No, it’s kyaht-to!
[Crescenda commits hara-kiri]
The other day, one of the teachers reprimanded a student for referring to the fictional teacher in the lesson as Yamamoto-sensei. Sensei in English is teacher, so of course, we say Yamamoto-teacher in English, right? WRONG. I’m okay with them calling me Jesshe-sensei (they can’t say see—it comes out like she). I am not okay with them calling me Jesse-teacher. That’s just ridiculous.
Some teachers understand that we don’t call teachers teacher—that we use Mr. Yamamoto instead of Yamamoto-teacher. But then they extend the Mr. to all males, as an extension of the –san honorific suffix. I’m Mr. Jesse, Babe Ruth becomes Mr. Babe Ruth, Michael Jackson becomes Mr(s). Michael Jackson, some kid name Junpei in class becomes Mr. Junpei, Daniel-san from The Karate Kid becomes Mr. Daniel, Mister Rogers becomes Mr. Mister Rogers, and so on.
Like I said, there are no grammar explanations in Eigo Noto. Indefinite articles (a in a car and an in an apple) and definite articles (the car, this cat, that skid mark, etc) are very hard for Japanese learners of English. There’s basically no equivalent in Japanese. There’s also usually no plural marker***, like s in cats. So, when a Japanese kid says, “I like dog”, it makes perfect sense to him, but elicits a giggle from the ALT, who is usually sure that the kid doesn’t actually eat dog.
***Sure, there’s –tachi and –ra, but they’re not always used and definitely not as essential.
On top of all of that, the words that the kids are “learning” are words that are already used in Japan and have been katakana-ized into the Japanese language. For example, these are common, everyday words in Japan:
• Hamburger = Hahmbahgah
• Hot dog = Hotto doggu
• Salad = Sarada
• Orange juice = Orenji juusu
• Fried Chicken = Furai chikin
In other words, the kids spent eight weeks of the year “studying” words that they already knew.
Anyway, here’s our restaurant demonstration for the kids:
Me: Hello.
Homeroom Teacher: Hello. Watt oodoh you rike?
Me: I’d like a hamburger, a hot dog, and salad.
HRT: OK. Hahmbahgah, hotto doggu, ando sarada. He-yah you ah.
Me: Thank you.
HRT: You-ah weh-ru-kahm.
Power to these HRTs, who are being forced to teach a language they secretly (or not so secretly) hate. They keep on keepin’ on, even though the Ministry of Education is out to get them. They get their pay cut while every school employs an ALT and buys $10,000 touch screen TVs for their English class, yet they keep on teachin'.
My goal is not so much to make fun of the HRT’s pronunciation as much as to point out that it’s important that they get an actual native speaker in the room that can help coach the kids on pronunciation. The kids are usually really quick to pick up proper pronunciation, while the adults are so set in their incorrect ways that they’ll likely never change (though they could if they wanted to).
So, it follows that any recordings of spoken English that are going to be used to teach kids correct pronunciation should be spoken by native speakers, right? This is where Eigo Noto really drops the ball.
It's obvious that whoever's announcing the food is not a native English speaker. With the nasalization and over-stressed Rs, I'd guess that he's probably Japanese. It's a pretty standard mistake for a Japanese person that's trying to sound American. All the comedians on TV talk that way, so the kids do it, too. They all end up sounding like bad caricatures of Wario.
I'm sure that the voice "artist" speaks English well. Just not like a native. And kids need to hear a native, or else they'll go around saying FRY chicken, yogart, and homburrgurr, sending the whole world in a downward spiral toward its eventual cataclysmic doom.
You want to teach kids that there are different accents in South Africa, Australia, America, and England? Getting a South African, Australian, American, or English person to record some dialogue would seem helpful, right? Here’s what we actually get:
Yes, that’s right. Richard Brant’n and Chongi are the same person. He’s from Korea AND Australlia. And he likes boisboll, among other sporrrts. Seriously. How hard would it be to get an actual Australian to do an Australian accent?
And I get the whole "there are different accents" angle. But an American faking an Australian accent is bad. These are things I shouldn't have to bear:
• An American faking a Korean-English accent
• An American faking a French-English accent
• An American faking an Italian-English accent
Why is it necessary for kids to learn how other countries incorrectly pronounce English? Do I study Japanese by listening to how Chinese people speak it?****
****No.
Eigo noto's got a lot a good in it, but they need to fix this stuff if they want it to be effective. They can start with new voice actors:
So let me get this straight--I'm supposed to know how a Frenchman, a Japanese man, a Korean, and a dog speak English? Oh, and I'm pretty sure that Chongert is also the dog.
Like I said in my previous post today, Eigo Noto could be a very helpful resource for schools, since most of them aren’t going to be able to have a full-time ALT. Unfortunately, the lessons are so inefficiently organized that it’s almost a waste of time and resources. On top of that, a slew of questionable production decisions make it so that what they do learn is often tainted.
There are no grammar explanations*, and the teachers certainly don’t understand the grammar. But then they’re expected to perform with correct grammar in front of the whole class. For example, in the ninth and final section of the fifth grade book, the kids learn a couple phrases that are important to know at restaurants: “What would you like?” and “I’d like ~”. The problem is that there were already three to four weeks of lessons for the same material earlier in the year, except we taught them that waiter will ask, “What do you want?”, to which you respond, “I want ~”. Which, of course, they have long-since forgotten (not a huge loss, since you usually wouldn’t say those specific words at a restaurant—think “I’ll have ~” or “I’d like ~”). So, we have two lessons in the same text book that take up four weeks each, devoted to the same exact thing, just with slightly different wording.
*In the interest of full disclosure, I originally typed “There’s no grammar explanations”, which both I and Microsoft Word’s grammar checker know to be grammatically incorrect. I hung my head in shame before going back to my angry rant about bad grammar.
Since we also focused a few lessons on "What do you like?", the kids generally just revert back to that, since there's no contrast of current and previous vocab or grammar points.
There’s no sound in Japanese that matches the wo of would**, so Japanese people say, “oohdoh,” instead. The homeroom teachers have spoken English incorrectly their whole lives, so they don’t know that there’s anything to correct. The kids also don’t know that the ‘d in I’d is a shortened version of would, so instead, they’re forced to just parrot the two phrases. To make matters worse, most ALTs can’t speak Japanese well enough to give a detailed explanation of a grammar principle, so it never gets taught.
*It’s the same with woman, which is generally pronounced ooh-mahn in Japan, which could be a cool man-horse hybrid (horse = uma in Japanese)
I take time out of the lesson to correct overall pronunciation, and to draw diagrams that help people understand how to produce sounds correctly or remember a grammar concept. If necessary, I’ll give an explanation in Japanese. I’d like to think that it helps, since they always seem to come around—but I’m sure they forget it the moment I walk out the door. After all, they won’t see me for another month.
Like I said, the teachers were often taught incorrectly, so the ignorance spreads like wildfire. Here’s an actual exchange in which my friend Crescenda took part:
Crescenda: How do you say 猫(cat) in English?
Student: uh…kyaht-tah?
Homeroom teacher: No, it’s kyaht-to!
[Crescenda commits hara-kiri]
The other day, one of the teachers reprimanded a student for referring to the fictional teacher in the lesson as Yamamoto-sensei. Sensei in English is teacher, so of course, we say Yamamoto-teacher in English, right? WRONG. I’m okay with them calling me Jesshe-sensei (they can’t say see—it comes out like she). I am not okay with them calling me Jesse-teacher. That’s just ridiculous.
Some teachers understand that we don’t call teachers teacher—that we use Mr. Yamamoto instead of Yamamoto-teacher. But then they extend the Mr. to all males, as an extension of the –san honorific suffix. I’m Mr. Jesse, Babe Ruth becomes Mr. Babe Ruth, Michael Jackson becomes Mr(s). Michael Jackson, some kid name Junpei in class becomes Mr. Junpei, Daniel-san from The Karate Kid becomes Mr. Daniel, Mister Rogers becomes Mr. Mister Rogers, and so on.
Like I said, there are no grammar explanations in Eigo Noto. Indefinite articles (a in a car and an in an apple) and definite articles (the car, this cat, that skid mark, etc) are very hard for Japanese learners of English. There’s basically no equivalent in Japanese. There’s also usually no plural marker***, like s in cats. So, when a Japanese kid says, “I like dog”, it makes perfect sense to him, but elicits a giggle from the ALT, who is usually sure that the kid doesn’t actually eat dog.
***Sure, there’s –tachi and –ra, but they’re not always used and definitely not as essential.
On top of all of that, the words that the kids are “learning” are words that are already used in Japan and have been katakana-ized into the Japanese language. For example, these are common, everyday words in Japan:
• Hamburger = Hahmbahgah
• Hot dog = Hotto doggu
• Salad = Sarada
• Orange juice = Orenji juusu
• Fried Chicken = Furai chikin
In other words, the kids spent eight weeks of the year “studying” words that they already knew.
Anyway, here’s our restaurant demonstration for the kids:
Me: Hello.
Homeroom Teacher: Hello. Watt oodoh you rike?
Me: I’d like a hamburger, a hot dog, and salad.
HRT: OK. Hahmbahgah, hotto doggu, ando sarada. He-yah you ah.
Me: Thank you.
HRT: You-ah weh-ru-kahm.
Power to these HRTs, who are being forced to teach a language they secretly (or not so secretly) hate. They keep on keepin’ on, even though the Ministry of Education is out to get them. They get their pay cut while every school employs an ALT and buys $10,000 touch screen TVs for their English class, yet they keep on teachin'.
My goal is not so much to make fun of the HRT’s pronunciation as much as to point out that it’s important that they get an actual native speaker in the room that can help coach the kids on pronunciation. The kids are usually really quick to pick up proper pronunciation, while the adults are so set in their incorrect ways that they’ll likely never change (though they could if they wanted to).
So, it follows that any recordings of spoken English that are going to be used to teach kids correct pronunciation should be spoken by native speakers, right? This is where Eigo Noto really drops the ball.
It's obvious that whoever's announcing the food is not a native English speaker. With the nasalization and over-stressed Rs, I'd guess that he's probably Japanese. It's a pretty standard mistake for a Japanese person that's trying to sound American. All the comedians on TV talk that way, so the kids do it, too. They all end up sounding like bad caricatures of Wario.
I'm sure that the voice "artist" speaks English well. Just not like a native. And kids need to hear a native, or else they'll go around saying FRY chicken, yogart, and homburrgurr, sending the whole world in a downward spiral toward its eventual cataclysmic doom.
You want to teach kids that there are different accents in South Africa, Australia, America, and England? Getting a South African, Australian, American, or English person to record some dialogue would seem helpful, right? Here’s what we actually get:
Yes, that’s right. Richard Brant’n and Chongi are the same person. He’s from Korea AND Australlia. And he likes boisboll, among other sporrrts. Seriously. How hard would it be to get an actual Australian to do an Australian accent?
And I get the whole "there are different accents" angle. But an American faking an Australian accent is bad. These are things I shouldn't have to bear:
• An American faking a Korean-English accent
• An American faking a French-English accent
• An American faking an Italian-English accent
Why is it necessary for kids to learn how other countries incorrectly pronounce English? Do I study Japanese by listening to how Chinese people speak it?****
****No.
Eigo noto's got a lot a good in it, but they need to fix this stuff if they want it to be effective. They can start with new voice actors:
So let me get this straight--I'm supposed to know how a Frenchman, a Japanese man, a Korean, and a dog speak English? Oh, and I'm pretty sure that Chongert is also the dog.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Eigo Noto and the Role of ALTs
A lot of people come to Japan expecting their assistant language teacher position to require a lot of work and responsibility, only to find themselves sitting in the staff room for hours each day. On the other hand, a ton of ALTs have no teaching aspirations and get frustrated when their schools have the gall to expect them to do anything. I'm somewhere between the two examples, in that I came to Japan expecting a lot of work, but am actually okay with it when they don't give me anything to do. After all, my main goal in coming to Japan is to learn Japanese, and the fewer classes I have to teach, the more time I can dedicate to studying.
A popular saying among JET Program participants is "every situation is different." I've witnessed its truth. When I was on Uoshima, I taught between zero and three lessons per day, though one class was probably the daily average. Most weeks, I'd teach about 8 lessons, three or four of which were prepared by my teaching partner. The remaining classes required my own lesson planning and teaching. Given that there was only one person per class, I wasn't able to recycle much of my lesson material. While it was nice to have complete freedom in the lesson planning stage, it consumed a lot of my time and caused a lot of stress.
Here in Imabari, I teach at five different schools, three of which have class sizes between 25 and 40. At four of my five schools (including both of my junior high schools), lessons are generally prepared by the English teachers, and I just show up and participate in the lesson.
The Ministry of Education has developed Eigo Noto (English Notebook), a two-volume set of English textbooks that kids all over Japan are expected to study during fifth and sixth grade. The books come with an audio CD an interactive CD-rom companion that can be played on a laptop hooked to a projector as a teaching help. It also comes with a teacher's manual that has lesson plans written in Japanese, so that the Japanese homeroom teachers that are forced to teach English with an ALT won't have to stress about preparing a lesson. They merely need to refer to the guide, which breaks everything down into lessons.
Of course, it doesn't always work that way. There are plenty of occasions at the elementary school where Eigo Noto lessons supposedly prepared by the teacher are new to both me and the teacher with whom I'm team-teaching. During those awkward times, I do my best to take control of the lesson and relieve some of the pressure on the other teacher. Even though things aren't perfect, they usually work out just fine in the end, even if there's a little discomfort. Just having a lesson plan to follow, even if it's lackluster, is still a good start.
Two of my three elementary schools use Eigo Noto, and one of them is expected to, but consistently leaves me hanging. At that school, it's basically all up to me, and that puts a lot of wear on my body. I usually have to teach four large classes each time I go (which is less than many other ALTs, so I guess I can't complain). The problem with that school is that the teachers don't know how to use Eigo Noto. When I teach fifth and sixth grade there, the teachers are expected to have prepared a lesson beforehand, yet they generally come to me and ask if I've prepared anything. I'm perfectly happy with preparing lessons—I just need to know in advance. The preferred method, however, would be for them to be involved with the lesson planning from Eigo Noto, so that we could both have an idea of what the heck is going on in our lessons.
Anyway, all this is just a long way of saying that Eigo Noto, which I have previously poked fun at, is useful. It's a very convenient way to help Japanese teachers who can't speak much English to prepare English lessons for use with an ALT.
Given the dearth of qualified English teachers in Japan, the Ministry of Education has to settle for the next best thing: a standardized text and ALTs. Given the high cost of hiring and transporting ALTs, they're forced to split us up between a bunch of schools. Not all ALTs, mind you, teach at a lot of schools, but most do. Because of differing ALT usage, it makes sense that the Ministry of Education wants Japanese home room teachers to have enough materials to teach without an ALT, while still making the lessons ALT and native speaker-friendly. I fully support this model, since there's likely no better solution.
Now that I've given this disclaimer, I'd like to talk about some of the shortcomings of Eigo Noto. If you want to teach kids effectively, it's important that you correct mistakes in the text and other teaching materials. I'll break it down as a separate post, so that people who don't care about why I'm criticizing the book don't have to read this post to get to the good stuff.
A popular saying among JET Program participants is "every situation is different." I've witnessed its truth. When I was on Uoshima, I taught between zero and three lessons per day, though one class was probably the daily average. Most weeks, I'd teach about 8 lessons, three or four of which were prepared by my teaching partner. The remaining classes required my own lesson planning and teaching. Given that there was only one person per class, I wasn't able to recycle much of my lesson material. While it was nice to have complete freedom in the lesson planning stage, it consumed a lot of my time and caused a lot of stress.
Here in Imabari, I teach at five different schools, three of which have class sizes between 25 and 40. At four of my five schools (including both of my junior high schools), lessons are generally prepared by the English teachers, and I just show up and participate in the lesson.
The Ministry of Education has developed Eigo Noto (English Notebook), a two-volume set of English textbooks that kids all over Japan are expected to study during fifth and sixth grade. The books come with an audio CD an interactive CD-rom companion that can be played on a laptop hooked to a projector as a teaching help. It also comes with a teacher's manual that has lesson plans written in Japanese, so that the Japanese homeroom teachers that are forced to teach English with an ALT won't have to stress about preparing a lesson. They merely need to refer to the guide, which breaks everything down into lessons.
Of course, it doesn't always work that way. There are plenty of occasions at the elementary school where Eigo Noto lessons supposedly prepared by the teacher are new to both me and the teacher with whom I'm team-teaching. During those awkward times, I do my best to take control of the lesson and relieve some of the pressure on the other teacher. Even though things aren't perfect, they usually work out just fine in the end, even if there's a little discomfort. Just having a lesson plan to follow, even if it's lackluster, is still a good start.
Two of my three elementary schools use Eigo Noto, and one of them is expected to, but consistently leaves me hanging. At that school, it's basically all up to me, and that puts a lot of wear on my body. I usually have to teach four large classes each time I go (which is less than many other ALTs, so I guess I can't complain). The problem with that school is that the teachers don't know how to use Eigo Noto. When I teach fifth and sixth grade there, the teachers are expected to have prepared a lesson beforehand, yet they generally come to me and ask if I've prepared anything. I'm perfectly happy with preparing lessons—I just need to know in advance. The preferred method, however, would be for them to be involved with the lesson planning from Eigo Noto, so that we could both have an idea of what the heck is going on in our lessons.
Anyway, all this is just a long way of saying that Eigo Noto, which I have previously poked fun at, is useful. It's a very convenient way to help Japanese teachers who can't speak much English to prepare English lessons for use with an ALT.
Given the dearth of qualified English teachers in Japan, the Ministry of Education has to settle for the next best thing: a standardized text and ALTs. Given the high cost of hiring and transporting ALTs, they're forced to split us up between a bunch of schools. Not all ALTs, mind you, teach at a lot of schools, but most do. Because of differing ALT usage, it makes sense that the Ministry of Education wants Japanese home room teachers to have enough materials to teach without an ALT, while still making the lessons ALT and native speaker-friendly. I fully support this model, since there's likely no better solution.
Now that I've given this disclaimer, I'd like to talk about some of the shortcomings of Eigo Noto. If you want to teach kids effectively, it's important that you correct mistakes in the text and other teaching materials. I'll break it down as a separate post, so that people who don't care about why I'm criticizing the book don't have to read this post to get to the good stuff.
Monday, February 1, 2010
I Think I'm Turning Japanese
Out here, kids go to school from 7 until 4, and then often go to a “juku” cram school to study for school entrance exams. Today, I asked one of my schools about possibly leaving a few minutes early once or twice a month so that I could go to a special cram school for Japanese study. The juku classes fall on Tuesdays and Fridays, and I only teach at that school about four or five times a month. I figured that since I’m always studying Japanese at school between 3 and 4 PM, it’d be nice if I could use some of the down time to study with an actual teacher. Besides, it’s not like they even know I’m there between 3 and 4--I never, ever teach after 3.
So, I mentioned to the principal that some other ALTs in town have gotten permission to leave school a little early for juku classes, hoping that he’d see the light and let me go. I was afraid to ask, since this school has always been extremely strict about me being there, even if nobody talks to me or I have no classes scheduled. The principal told me that he couldn’t answer me right then, but that he’d get back to me. A few minutes ago, he pulled me into his office with another teacher to bear the bad news that, unfortunately, it would be too much of an inconvenience to let me go a little bit early once a month.
I said that I understood and that I didn’t want to inconvenience the school in any way. I apologized for making them take the time to figure things out and thanked them for their kind understanding. I acted like a good Japanese employee should act and walked away, defeated.
In the end, I’m not upset that they aren’t letting me go. It’s their right to make me stay as long as my contract requires. A part of me wants to be upset and rant about how pointless something is or about how much I’ve been wronged, but I really don’t have the energy. Sometimes it’s easier to just accept defeat. How very Japanese of me.
That said, the American in me still wants to speak out against the drawn-out process. It would have been much easier for everyone if they just said no from the beginning, rather than making it seem like such an ordeal. While I understand well the whole “duty to your employer” angle, I still wish we could have skipped the formalities and just talked to each other without all the social distance and subservient bowing. Perhaps I’m not turning Japanese after all.
So, I mentioned to the principal that some other ALTs in town have gotten permission to leave school a little early for juku classes, hoping that he’d see the light and let me go. I was afraid to ask, since this school has always been extremely strict about me being there, even if nobody talks to me or I have no classes scheduled. The principal told me that he couldn’t answer me right then, but that he’d get back to me. A few minutes ago, he pulled me into his office with another teacher to bear the bad news that, unfortunately, it would be too much of an inconvenience to let me go a little bit early once a month.
I said that I understood and that I didn’t want to inconvenience the school in any way. I apologized for making them take the time to figure things out and thanked them for their kind understanding. I acted like a good Japanese employee should act and walked away, defeated.
In the end, I’m not upset that they aren’t letting me go. It’s their right to make me stay as long as my contract requires. A part of me wants to be upset and rant about how pointless something is or about how much I’ve been wronged, but I really don’t have the energy. Sometimes it’s easier to just accept defeat. How very Japanese of me.
That said, the American in me still wants to speak out against the drawn-out process. It would have been much easier for everyone if they just said no from the beginning, rather than making it seem like such an ordeal. While I understand well the whole “duty to your employer” angle, I still wish we could have skipped the formalities and just talked to each other without all the social distance and subservient bowing. Perhaps I’m not turning Japanese after all.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Happy New Y..end of January!
A month without blog updates? Perish the thought!
But seriously--I can't believe I haven't blogged in 2010. It's time to change that, even if it's a lackluster effort.
I don't feel so bad about not updating my blog. It's not that I've grown apathetic--I've just become so obsessed with studying Japanese that all my non-teaching time at work (between 2 and 4 hours per day) is devoted to grammar and kanji study.
First, let me announced that we've decided to stay for a third year. Since Mia's going to need a heart procedure in the next year or so, we wanted to make sure that we were covered by insurance. It's hard to believe that we've re-contracted, especially considering how a couple months ago there was an almost zero-percent chance we'd stay. Stef has had some experiences out here that have made life a bit easier on her. That's not to say that it's easy to be away from family, but it's definitely more palatable. I'll let her tell everybody about those experiences in her blog. I'm extremely excited to stay, and have redoubled my efforts with the language in hopes of really solidifying my skills.
Stef was speaking with a lady who said that she doubted if I'd be able to achieve fluency in Japanese in 3 years. She hasn't really heard me speak, so I can't blame her for saying that. And truthfully, while I would say that I already do "speak Japanese", I haven't yet achieved what I would call fluency. But I see no reason why I won't be totally fluent after another 18 months in Japan. I'll surely have passed level 2 of the JLPT, if not level 1.
Many people consider themselves fluent in Japanese if they can hold natural conversations. But they may not be able to carry on a functional conversation in polite Japanese. I can already speak polite Japanese and am well on my way to speaking decent slang. Also, I want to be able to read 2000+ kanji without straining. Many conversationally fluent people are lost if they have to read something written in kanji. I'm more than halfway to my goal of 2000 kanji, and find my reading comprehension improving exponentially.
My dreams are flooded with Japanese. I wake up in the middle of each night and have grammar coursing through my brain. I repeat the phrases and grammar over and over in hopes that I'll remember to write them down or study them in depth the next day. I usually remember.
I recently visited a website that talks about turning every aspect of your life into some Japanese experience. People who frequent this site and buy into the theory spend hours each day watching anime and reading Japanese comics. I don't have time for this, especially since I have a family to tend to. Furthermore, I really don't care about anime or comics. Instead, I spend hours a day at school trying to have conversations with my coworkers, eavesdropping on all their conversations with others.
I try to read every symbol I see, and I'm constantly engaging my brain, asking myself how I'd say something in Japanese. Stef will often catch me muttering, only to realize that I'm speaking to myself in Japanese. On my bike rides to and from work, I drill difficult grammar structures and words that are hard to say. It's scary enough that a gigantic foreigner is riding around on a girl's bike with a basket. The fact that I'm talking in circles to myself makes me that much more frightening.
I've also been teaching the young men at church. The lessons are stressful to prepare, but extremely rewarding. I find myself consulting my dictionary less and less as I read through the teacher's manual. Compared to when I first started teaching, my Japanese is leaps and bounds ahead.
Dad's coming out to visit us for a few weeks. I'm very excited. We're thinking of visiting Osaka and Kyoto, along with some places that are closer to Imabari. He's coming in the beginning of March and staying until the beginning of April. I'm excited to have him come.
Then, in May, Mom and Rory are coming to stay with us for a couple weeks. We don't have many plans yet, other than fishing out by Uoshima with Azuma-san. We still need to see if that's a possibility. If not, I'm sure we could find some way to set up a fishing trip.
As a side note, I'm thinking of changing the name of my blog, and buying a domain name to go along with it. The reasoning behind this is that everybody already knows that Axel is better than Skate, and so nobody will ever go to a site that apparently doesn't contain any new information. I'll keep you posted.
But seriously--I can't believe I haven't blogged in 2010. It's time to change that, even if it's a lackluster effort.
I don't feel so bad about not updating my blog. It's not that I've grown apathetic--I've just become so obsessed with studying Japanese that all my non-teaching time at work (between 2 and 4 hours per day) is devoted to grammar and kanji study.
First, let me announced that we've decided to stay for a third year. Since Mia's going to need a heart procedure in the next year or so, we wanted to make sure that we were covered by insurance. It's hard to believe that we've re-contracted, especially considering how a couple months ago there was an almost zero-percent chance we'd stay. Stef has had some experiences out here that have made life a bit easier on her. That's not to say that it's easy to be away from family, but it's definitely more palatable. I'll let her tell everybody about those experiences in her blog. I'm extremely excited to stay, and have redoubled my efforts with the language in hopes of really solidifying my skills.
Stef was speaking with a lady who said that she doubted if I'd be able to achieve fluency in Japanese in 3 years. She hasn't really heard me speak, so I can't blame her for saying that. And truthfully, while I would say that I already do "speak Japanese", I haven't yet achieved what I would call fluency. But I see no reason why I won't be totally fluent after another 18 months in Japan. I'll surely have passed level 2 of the JLPT, if not level 1.
Many people consider themselves fluent in Japanese if they can hold natural conversations. But they may not be able to carry on a functional conversation in polite Japanese. I can already speak polite Japanese and am well on my way to speaking decent slang. Also, I want to be able to read 2000+ kanji without straining. Many conversationally fluent people are lost if they have to read something written in kanji. I'm more than halfway to my goal of 2000 kanji, and find my reading comprehension improving exponentially.
My dreams are flooded with Japanese. I wake up in the middle of each night and have grammar coursing through my brain. I repeat the phrases and grammar over and over in hopes that I'll remember to write them down or study them in depth the next day. I usually remember.
I recently visited a website that talks about turning every aspect of your life into some Japanese experience. People who frequent this site and buy into the theory spend hours each day watching anime and reading Japanese comics. I don't have time for this, especially since I have a family to tend to. Furthermore, I really don't care about anime or comics. Instead, I spend hours a day at school trying to have conversations with my coworkers, eavesdropping on all their conversations with others.
I try to read every symbol I see, and I'm constantly engaging my brain, asking myself how I'd say something in Japanese. Stef will often catch me muttering, only to realize that I'm speaking to myself in Japanese. On my bike rides to and from work, I drill difficult grammar structures and words that are hard to say. It's scary enough that a gigantic foreigner is riding around on a girl's bike with a basket. The fact that I'm talking in circles to myself makes me that much more frightening.
I've also been teaching the young men at church. The lessons are stressful to prepare, but extremely rewarding. I find myself consulting my dictionary less and less as I read through the teacher's manual. Compared to when I first started teaching, my Japanese is leaps and bounds ahead.
Dad's coming out to visit us for a few weeks. I'm very excited. We're thinking of visiting Osaka and Kyoto, along with some places that are closer to Imabari. He's coming in the beginning of March and staying until the beginning of April. I'm excited to have him come.
Then, in May, Mom and Rory are coming to stay with us for a couple weeks. We don't have many plans yet, other than fishing out by Uoshima with Azuma-san. We still need to see if that's a possibility. If not, I'm sure we could find some way to set up a fishing trip.
As a side note, I'm thinking of changing the name of my blog, and buying a domain name to go along with it. The reasoning behind this is that everybody already knows that Axel is better than Skate, and so nobody will ever go to a site that apparently doesn't contain any new information. I'll keep you posted.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Christmas in Japan
It's Christmas Eve here in Japan, and I'm sitting at school, having taught all my classes for the day. If I didn't specifically request to have tomorrow off, I'd be working on Christmas as well. Christmas in Japan is much different than Christmas in America, and I'll tell you how.
All right. Close your eyes for a moment and imagine a traditional American Christmas--a time when couples go out on a romantic date, then stay the night at a fancy hotel. To maintain the true spirit of Christmas, department stores and shopping malls play traditional Christmas songs like Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas is You and Last Christmas by Wham!
For Christmas dinner, perhaps you've ordered the traditional plate of fried chicken, possibly weeks in advance, from a place like Kentucky Fried Chicken. As the breadwinner of the family, you stop by the store on the way home from work and pick up the Christmas cake, which everybody in the country is eating. Perhaps you even have a Christmas Party lined up, where people will all make Christmas cakes and you'll judge them on taste and design. On the table, along with the cakes and fried chicken, is a plate of sandwiches on white bread with the crusts cut off.
The kids have all left their stockings on their pillow in their bedroom so that Santa, who comes all the way from his home in Finland, will be able to access them easily. Santa will give you your one and only present, and if you're lucky, it'll be something other than a scarf. But you don't really care, since you're going to be getting loads of presents for New Year's Day. Isn't Christmas in America great?
The past two weeks, I've been giving three or four short presentations a day about Christmas in America. I've been just as surprised as the kids have to discover the differences between the traditional American Christmas and the way the Japanese celebrate it, which is obviously what I've described above.
Not even touching on obvious omissions like the Nativity, it really is a different holiday here--much more like Valentine's Day. Everybody knows that Christmas is a western holiday, so all the students and teachers are shocked to hear that their Christmas traditions haven't actually come from America (granted, some of the "traditions" I readily mock may actually be tradition in Europe, but I don't really know--and it's a lot easier to just point and laugh).
Kids here are blown away when I tell them how many presents we traditionally get in America. They're even more shocked when I tell them that we don't exchange presents on New Years. "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehh?" is the universal response. Christmas in America is very similar to New Year's Day in Japan.
Perhaps my favorite part of Christmas festivities this year happened on my island school, Sekizen Junior High. My teacher wanted to sing a popular traditional Christmas song from America, so she chose Wham!'s Last Christmas. Not Jingle Bells, White Christmas, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, or Silent Night. George Michael (the singer/songwriter). From England. Singing about how heartbroken he is on Christmas this year, because he gave his heart to someone who he knew so well that she (or he, I guess) didn't even recognize him only a year later.
I think Christmas would be a bit more depressing here if it actually reminded me of what I was missing at home. Sure, I'm sad that I don't get to spend Christmas with our families (though we did get to see Stef's parents just a couple weeks ago, and we opened up presents with them). But I've got Stef, the girls, and the sweet voice of George Michael to soothe my soul.
All right. Close your eyes for a moment and imagine a traditional American Christmas--a time when couples go out on a romantic date, then stay the night at a fancy hotel. To maintain the true spirit of Christmas, department stores and shopping malls play traditional Christmas songs like Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas is You and Last Christmas by Wham!
For Christmas dinner, perhaps you've ordered the traditional plate of fried chicken, possibly weeks in advance, from a place like Kentucky Fried Chicken. As the breadwinner of the family, you stop by the store on the way home from work and pick up the Christmas cake, which everybody in the country is eating. Perhaps you even have a Christmas Party lined up, where people will all make Christmas cakes and you'll judge them on taste and design. On the table, along with the cakes and fried chicken, is a plate of sandwiches on white bread with the crusts cut off.
The kids have all left their stockings on their pillow in their bedroom so that Santa, who comes all the way from his home in Finland, will be able to access them easily. Santa will give you your one and only present, and if you're lucky, it'll be something other than a scarf. But you don't really care, since you're going to be getting loads of presents for New Year's Day. Isn't Christmas in America great?
The past two weeks, I've been giving three or four short presentations a day about Christmas in America. I've been just as surprised as the kids have to discover the differences between the traditional American Christmas and the way the Japanese celebrate it, which is obviously what I've described above.
Not even touching on obvious omissions like the Nativity, it really is a different holiday here--much more like Valentine's Day. Everybody knows that Christmas is a western holiday, so all the students and teachers are shocked to hear that their Christmas traditions haven't actually come from America (granted, some of the "traditions" I readily mock may actually be tradition in Europe, but I don't really know--and it's a lot easier to just point and laugh).
Kids here are blown away when I tell them how many presents we traditionally get in America. They're even more shocked when I tell them that we don't exchange presents on New Years. "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehh?" is the universal response. Christmas in America is very similar to New Year's Day in Japan.
Perhaps my favorite part of Christmas festivities this year happened on my island school, Sekizen Junior High. My teacher wanted to sing a popular traditional Christmas song from America, so she chose Wham!'s Last Christmas. Not Jingle Bells, White Christmas, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, or Silent Night. George Michael (the singer/songwriter). From England. Singing about how heartbroken he is on Christmas this year, because he gave his heart to someone who he knew so well that she (or he, I guess) didn't even recognize him only a year later.
I think Christmas would be a bit more depressing here if it actually reminded me of what I was missing at home. Sure, I'm sad that I don't get to spend Christmas with our families (though we did get to see Stef's parents just a couple weeks ago, and we opened up presents with them). But I've got Stef, the girls, and the sweet voice of George Michael to soothe my soul.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Kelsey Didn't Want to Go to Han-pock Fabrics
When I was a kid—maybe 3 or 4 years old—I went missing. My mom had been getting ready to go to the fabric store—Hancock Fabrics—and I didn't want to go. So I disappeared. She looked everywhere in the house, and when she couldn't find me, called the police. Right before the police showed up, she had the feeling that she should look under her bed. There wasn't much space there—definitely less than a foot of clearance—but there I was, fast asleep. When I woke up, I explained why I had crawled under the bed in the first place—I didn't want to go to "Han-pock Fabrics".
A few months ago, the news networks got swept up into the Balloon Boy fiasco, where a kid supposedly crawled into a weather balloon before it was "mistakenly released" into the sky to the horror of many. I remember thinking that he was probably fine, since the whole "he might have climbed into the balloon by accident" angle seemed a lot less plausible than the "he's probably hiding somewhere" one. As a parent, however, the possibility that this child was in danger resonated with me, as it probably did with many parents around the world. It's probably why we felt cheated when the whole thing turned out to be a hoax, and he was found hiding in his attic, likely at the behest of his fame-seeking scumbag parents.
Yesterday, Kelsey went missing at church while I was in class. The lady who was in charge of nursery had taken her eye off Kelsey for a moment, and that was all the time Kelsey needed to slip out the back door and start wandering the neighborhood. When I came out of my class, I saw a lady go out the back door, calling Kelsey's name. I hurried to catch up and find out what had happened, when I saw that a few other people had gone after her. They had just found her laying defiantly on a wooden pallet outside a business two buildings behind the church building when I showed up. I picked her up and carried her back to church. As we walked back, she said that she wanted to go to the playground. My heart was pumping at the brief thought that Kelsey had been lost, but the nursery teacher apologized for not watching her closely, and all was well. Or so I thought.
The guy who normally picks us up for church, Aki-san, didn't show up that day, so we had to come by taxi (after first leaving on bikes and realizing it was too cold for the girls). When church was out, nobody offered us a ride, so I started asking people how I should describe the church building, in order to correctly guide the taxi company to us. In the past, every time I'd described the location of the church building to taxi drivers, they'd get a bit confused (since nobody knows where the Mormon church is). I'd always had to tell them which streets to take and where to turn, so I anticipated a bit of difficulty when I called the taxi company.
I went outside to phone the taxi, away from the noise of the church halls. I explained that the church building was right by the Toyota dealership (the only one in town by a specific name), but the guy on the phone made no attempt to understand what I was saying. This is common in Japan. If you don't speak with a perfect accent, many people make no attempt to figure out what you are trying to tell them. Given that there's often an extremely specific way to ask certain questions, if you don't ask for things in the prescribed way, you often won't get anywhere—even if you pronounce everything correctly. They just give up and wait for you to come back with perfect Japanese, or at least written (in Japanese) instructions of what you want. Stef found this out the hard way when she went to pick her parents up at the train station by herself (luckily, I had given her parents a copy of the address in Japanese in case they needed it).
So, I explained that the church was the very next building, next to the car dealership, but the guy on the line got hung up on the fact that he didn't know which side of the building I was talking about. I got so frustrated with his inability to overlook such an unimportant detail (I mean, really? They can't just figure it out when they get to the car dealership?) that I told him that I no longer needed a taxi and hung up the phone. At this point, I was extremely frazzled. I just wanted to go home.
I walked back into the church to ask someone to either give us a ride or call the taxi company for me, when Stef came rushing towards me, asking me where Kelsey had gone. She was watching Mia, and thought that I was watching Kelsey. I checked in all the rooms at the church, but couldn't find her. I, along with ten other people, rushed outside and started looking in different directions throughout the neighborhood, calling out Kelsey's name. I was overwhelmed with the thought of losing Kelsey, so my calls for her got frantic. Walking with me was a mentally disabled man from church who meant well but kept parroting everything I said in his Japanese-English accent, causing my stress level to go through the roof.
At this point, I began to fear the worst. I continued to shout Kelsey's name as I wandered through the streets, checking the 5 foot-deep drainage canals that surrounded the roads in hopes that I wouldn't find her. Even though Japan is a safe place, there's no place on Earth where every single person can be trusted. The thought of someone taking her terrified me. All I could do is pray that she was all right.
I made my way back to the chapel to see if anybody had seen her, and one of the ladies waved and gave me a thumbs-up sign. Kelsey had gone into the sacrament room hid herself inside the pulpit. I couldn't be upset at her—she's just a kid, and she didn't understand the consequences of hiding. Nevertheless, it took me a good hour or so to get my emotions under control, and I was quite short with everybody as they asked if I was able to call the taxi. I vented my frustration about the taxi debacle and walked away from everybody, not really wanting any human contact. I won't even try to justify my behavior at that point. I know I was wrong.
I'm glad Kelsey was all right. I've resolved to pay closer attention to her at church and in public. We often let her wander around some stores as long as she's within sight, since she's so active and it's basically impossible to match her energy. Kelsey's a good girl; she gets a bit difficult when she's tired or hungry, but who doesn't? She's a sweet girl that likes to play, help, love, and be loved. She's also not even three years old, so we can't expect her to behave like an adult. She just wants to go outside—to go on walks with Mommy or Daddy. It doesn't matter where—the park, the cats around the corner, Han-pock fabrics—she just wants to get out. And there's nothing wrong with that.
A few months ago, the news networks got swept up into the Balloon Boy fiasco, where a kid supposedly crawled into a weather balloon before it was "mistakenly released" into the sky to the horror of many. I remember thinking that he was probably fine, since the whole "he might have climbed into the balloon by accident" angle seemed a lot less plausible than the "he's probably hiding somewhere" one. As a parent, however, the possibility that this child was in danger resonated with me, as it probably did with many parents around the world. It's probably why we felt cheated when the whole thing turned out to be a hoax, and he was found hiding in his attic, likely at the behest of his fame-seeking scumbag parents.
Yesterday, Kelsey went missing at church while I was in class. The lady who was in charge of nursery had taken her eye off Kelsey for a moment, and that was all the time Kelsey needed to slip out the back door and start wandering the neighborhood. When I came out of my class, I saw a lady go out the back door, calling Kelsey's name. I hurried to catch up and find out what had happened, when I saw that a few other people had gone after her. They had just found her laying defiantly on a wooden pallet outside a business two buildings behind the church building when I showed up. I picked her up and carried her back to church. As we walked back, she said that she wanted to go to the playground. My heart was pumping at the brief thought that Kelsey had been lost, but the nursery teacher apologized for not watching her closely, and all was well. Or so I thought.
The guy who normally picks us up for church, Aki-san, didn't show up that day, so we had to come by taxi (after first leaving on bikes and realizing it was too cold for the girls). When church was out, nobody offered us a ride, so I started asking people how I should describe the church building, in order to correctly guide the taxi company to us. In the past, every time I'd described the location of the church building to taxi drivers, they'd get a bit confused (since nobody knows where the Mormon church is). I'd always had to tell them which streets to take and where to turn, so I anticipated a bit of difficulty when I called the taxi company.
I went outside to phone the taxi, away from the noise of the church halls. I explained that the church building was right by the Toyota dealership (the only one in town by a specific name), but the guy on the phone made no attempt to understand what I was saying. This is common in Japan. If you don't speak with a perfect accent, many people make no attempt to figure out what you are trying to tell them. Given that there's often an extremely specific way to ask certain questions, if you don't ask for things in the prescribed way, you often won't get anywhere—even if you pronounce everything correctly. They just give up and wait for you to come back with perfect Japanese, or at least written (in Japanese) instructions of what you want. Stef found this out the hard way when she went to pick her parents up at the train station by herself (luckily, I had given her parents a copy of the address in Japanese in case they needed it).
So, I explained that the church was the very next building, next to the car dealership, but the guy on the line got hung up on the fact that he didn't know which side of the building I was talking about. I got so frustrated with his inability to overlook such an unimportant detail (I mean, really? They can't just figure it out when they get to the car dealership?) that I told him that I no longer needed a taxi and hung up the phone. At this point, I was extremely frazzled. I just wanted to go home.
I walked back into the church to ask someone to either give us a ride or call the taxi company for me, when Stef came rushing towards me, asking me where Kelsey had gone. She was watching Mia, and thought that I was watching Kelsey. I checked in all the rooms at the church, but couldn't find her. I, along with ten other people, rushed outside and started looking in different directions throughout the neighborhood, calling out Kelsey's name. I was overwhelmed with the thought of losing Kelsey, so my calls for her got frantic. Walking with me was a mentally disabled man from church who meant well but kept parroting everything I said in his Japanese-English accent, causing my stress level to go through the roof.
At this point, I began to fear the worst. I continued to shout Kelsey's name as I wandered through the streets, checking the 5 foot-deep drainage canals that surrounded the roads in hopes that I wouldn't find her. Even though Japan is a safe place, there's no place on Earth where every single person can be trusted. The thought of someone taking her terrified me. All I could do is pray that she was all right.
I made my way back to the chapel to see if anybody had seen her, and one of the ladies waved and gave me a thumbs-up sign. Kelsey had gone into the sacrament room hid herself inside the pulpit. I couldn't be upset at her—she's just a kid, and she didn't understand the consequences of hiding. Nevertheless, it took me a good hour or so to get my emotions under control, and I was quite short with everybody as they asked if I was able to call the taxi. I vented my frustration about the taxi debacle and walked away from everybody, not really wanting any human contact. I won't even try to justify my behavior at that point. I know I was wrong.
I'm glad Kelsey was all right. I've resolved to pay closer attention to her at church and in public. We often let her wander around some stores as long as she's within sight, since she's so active and it's basically impossible to match her energy. Kelsey's a good girl; she gets a bit difficult when she's tired or hungry, but who doesn't? She's a sweet girl that likes to play, help, love, and be loved. She's also not even three years old, so we can't expect her to behave like an adult. She just wants to go outside—to go on walks with Mommy or Daddy. It doesn't matter where—the park, the cats around the corner, Han-pock fabrics—she just wants to get out. And there's nothing wrong with that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)