You know, like that screechy sound you hear when that jackass guitarist on open-mic night thinks he knows better than the sound guy and turns his output up too high? Yeah, feedback. And I finally worked out how to turn on the comments functions here. So you too can produce your own high-frequency response to my inchoate gibbering. And I solemnly swear* to read them all. Really.
Just click that bit at the bottom marked "comments" to get started.
*By "solemnly swear" I mean "intend to, until boredom overtakes me..."
24 February 2005
Local Foreigner
The school year in Japan runs from April to March of the following year. Which means that most schools in Tokyo are now preparing for the end of the current school year. And my first year at elementary school is almost over too. And I have got to say that I am quite ready to be done with it. Just in case you've forgotten, or never read my complaints before, or didn't care enough to remember it the last time I started bitching about it, I am contracted to teach "International English/Culture Exchanging for Introduce of Lesson" at six elementary schools in the Tokyo area. I go to each school once a week and teach one lesson to each class in each grade from Kindergarden to 6th grade, with a poorly thought-out goals of:
So imagine the feelings of success when, after an entire year, in almost every class in every grade, the children , as well as a few of the more courageous parents, are still asking me how tall I am, where I live, what my real job is, how tall I am, why I can (sort of) speak Japanese, how tall I am, when I will go back to my country and how tall I am.
Yes, I am a big person. In case you missed it, about 194 cm and 95 kg. But I also stopped growing several years ago. I did not suddenly shoot up over the summer. I have been this height for the entire year. And the kids have made it a point to ask me how tall I am at least once every day.
But that's not entirely fair. Yes, I get asked that everyday, but not by the same kids since I'm never at one school for more than five consecutive days. In fact, I only see each group of kids for about 40 minutes, once every six weeks. Which is why I don't know any of their names. Or 98% of the teachers' names. I was never in any place long enough to become a part of that school. Which is why my classes were viewed as break periods from "real school," both by students who wanted an excuse to act up for 40 minutes and for teachers who wanted a 40 minute break to grade papers, sleep in the corner, or sneak out for a smoke.
The point of all this is to say that for almost a year I have had a steady job as a regularly scheduled, irregularly appearing guest host with a mission to teach these kids English without using phonics, spelling or grammar and to help them get used to meeting foreigners by spending time with them for an average of 8 minutes per kid per year. Not surprisingly, I feel a very low sense of accomplishment in my work. Fortunately, I have so much else going on in my life that I still feel like a well-rounded, successful human being.
And I know where to find a tree big enough to suspend a 100kg weight over 2 meters off the ground for at least, oh, 10 to 15 minutes.
1. Introducing the children to the existance of foreign people in a safe, non-threatening way to improve percieved feelings of fear of meeting/interacting with/existance of foreign people, especially as compared with other East Asian nations (not officially named but in particular, South Korea),
2. Beginning introduction to and practice in English speaking and understanding with the long-term goals of
2a. improving average performance of Japanese students in English speaking, especially as compared with other students in East Asian nations (not officially named but in particular, South Korea),2b. reducing students' fear of and/or embarassment at using English, especially with foreign people,
2c. imparting to the students a feeling that English can be a fun and useful subject, to prevent declining interest in the required English studies in later grades (particularly as emphasis shifts from spoken English in grade 7 to English used on multiple-choice examinations in grades 8 through 12),
2. (cont'd) but with the short term suggestions that the classes avoid writing, spelling or phonics topics, as studies of high school and college students have shown that those topics are very difficult for them, and they feel uncomfortable using those skills, particularly with foreign people,
3. and having fun while getting to know the children and experience life in a Japanese school while engaging in exchange of international culture.
So imagine the feelings of success when, after an entire year, in almost every class in every grade, the children , as well as a few of the more courageous parents, are still asking me how tall I am, where I live, what my real job is, how tall I am, why I can (sort of) speak Japanese, how tall I am, when I will go back to my country and how tall I am.
Yes, I am a big person. In case you missed it, about 194 cm and 95 kg. But I also stopped growing several years ago. I did not suddenly shoot up over the summer. I have been this height for the entire year. And the kids have made it a point to ask me how tall I am at least once every day.
But that's not entirely fair. Yes, I get asked that everyday, but not by the same kids since I'm never at one school for more than five consecutive days. In fact, I only see each group of kids for about 40 minutes, once every six weeks. Which is why I don't know any of their names. Or 98% of the teachers' names. I was never in any place long enough to become a part of that school. Which is why my classes were viewed as break periods from "real school," both by students who wanted an excuse to act up for 40 minutes and for teachers who wanted a 40 minute break to grade papers, sleep in the corner, or sneak out for a smoke.
The point of all this is to say that for almost a year I have had a steady job as a regularly scheduled, irregularly appearing guest host with a mission to teach these kids English without using phonics, spelling or grammar and to help them get used to meeting foreigners by spending time with them for an average of 8 minutes per kid per year. Not surprisingly, I feel a very low sense of accomplishment in my work. Fortunately, I have so much else going on in my life that I still feel like a well-rounded, successful human being.
And I know where to find a tree big enough to suspend a 100kg weight over 2 meters off the ground for at least, oh, 10 to 15 minutes.
23 February 2005
Hunter S. Thompson 1937-2005
Hunter S. Thompson is dead, and the net is already oozing tributes, op-eds and "what Hunter meant to me" stories. Unfortunately, this is going to have to fall into the latter category. Because I think something is being missed in this outpouring of fan-lamentation, paeans and "why I have LONO vanity plates" stories.
Yes, he glorified drug use, firearms, sex, violence, gambling, drunkenness, debauchery and general high-risk behavior. He inspired legions of hacks, wannabes and groupies. He created one of the most clearly understandable, and therefore easily misused phrases in modern American writing with "Fear and Loathing." His persona has inspired two films, neither of which has inspired many kind reviews. By all accounts he was a singularly difficult person to be around for any length of time, and few would say he was pleasant. Kind, loyal and honest, yes, but not pleasant at all.
But that's not why we needed him. There are too many pleasant, boring, useless people already. As long as we had Hunter Thompson, we knew there was one person who couldn't breathe without challenging the rule that says "obey." From the most important defenses of constitutional rights all the way down to blaring obnoxious music across the hills around his home, he would not stop disobeying. And his reasoning was simple: "I am a free human being, and no one has the right to tell me what to do."
Without him, there's one fewer standard bearer for that cause. There's one fewer voice screaming at the top of his lungs for individuality. There's one fewer person who will fight, tooth and claw, for his own personal autonomy, and by extension for all of us, too.
Underneath what passes for grief in the strange world of gonzo fandom is another, heavier feeling. It's the knowledge that Hunter S. Thompson is no longer out there, howling in the mountains, trying to hold on to the frontiers of our autonomy. It's the knowledge that if we want to keep our own freedoms, we'll each have to carry a little bit more of the weight he held every day.
Yes, he glorified drug use, firearms, sex, violence, gambling, drunkenness, debauchery and general high-risk behavior. He inspired legions of hacks, wannabes and groupies. He created one of the most clearly understandable, and therefore easily misused phrases in modern American writing with "Fear and Loathing." His persona has inspired two films, neither of which has inspired many kind reviews. By all accounts he was a singularly difficult person to be around for any length of time, and few would say he was pleasant. Kind, loyal and honest, yes, but not pleasant at all.
But that's not why we needed him. There are too many pleasant, boring, useless people already. As long as we had Hunter Thompson, we knew there was one person who couldn't breathe without challenging the rule that says "obey." From the most important defenses of constitutional rights all the way down to blaring obnoxious music across the hills around his home, he would not stop disobeying. And his reasoning was simple: "I am a free human being, and no one has the right to tell me what to do."
Without him, there's one fewer standard bearer for that cause. There's one fewer voice screaming at the top of his lungs for individuality. There's one fewer person who will fight, tooth and claw, for his own personal autonomy, and by extension for all of us, too.
Underneath what passes for grief in the strange world of gonzo fandom is another, heavier feeling. It's the knowledge that Hunter S. Thompson is no longer out there, howling in the mountains, trying to hold on to the frontiers of our autonomy. It's the knowledge that if we want to keep our own freedoms, we'll each have to carry a little bit more of the weight he held every day.
21 February 2005
15 February 2005
Howling
Last month the US Army completed the court-martial and sentencing of Army Reserve Spc. Charles Graner Jr. For his role in the Abu Ghraib abuse scandal he'll face 10 years in the stockade, at the rank of private, with no pay, and a dishonorable discharge when he gets out.
I didn't know what a "Reserve Spc." was, so I looked it up. They used to call it "Technician" back in WWII. And assuming it's in something like electronics, it seems to be roughly equivalent to an associates degree from ITT Tech. Now, as I understand it, the army has to invest a fair amount of time and money in it's "human assets." Even if they're in the reserves, these people don't get trained, outfitted and shipped all over creation for free. Since the military has to make do on a measly $420.7 billion in 2005, one would be curious about how its property, even damaged property is dispensed with.
The point I'm trying to reach is what level of investment the military has in its soldiers and how it can so easily write off one or two or ten of them. Of all the military mottoes I could find on-line, none of them said anything about "leaving the laggards," "ready to downsize our own," or "tribuo in turbatus vicis." And for all the claims about esprit de corps or unit loyalty, there wasn't much about scapegoats, abandoning the losers or leaving that one guy hanging.
This is not to say that I think that Army Reserve Spc. Charles Graner Jr. should not be punished. If you abuse someone who has been remanded to your care, you will earn very little respect or consideration from me. But that's not my point here. I'm curious why problems with groups are resolved with the excision of individuals. If there was so much wrong with what happened there, why is cutting out two or five or twenty bad apples enough? Why isn't the entire system for military imprisonment dragged out into the daylight and examined? If a few dozen priests were molesting children, why isn't the church vivisecting all of the procedures that surround the problem? If there is a problem within a system, why are only a few individuals separated from that system and strung up as if that would be the end of it?
Again, I don't think that systemic problems are excuses for individuals to act like animals. But it doesn't make any sense to me to take a person acclimated to a system, punish him for something he did within that system, then not look any closer at why and how he did what he did. The military has problems. Big, deep, metastasized problems. So does the Los Angeles police department, the Catholic Church, the UN peacekeeping organization and almost every government on earth.
All these monstrous aggregates of policies, red tape and devoted company men get to keep on ensuring their own continued existence. And I want to know why it's okay to value these rancid, tumor-riddled dinosaurs that keep enabling abuse, crime, cruelty and the on-going degradation of the individual.
I didn't know what a "Reserve Spc." was, so I looked it up. They used to call it "Technician" back in WWII. And assuming it's in something like electronics, it seems to be roughly equivalent to an associates degree from ITT Tech. Now, as I understand it, the army has to invest a fair amount of time and money in it's "human assets." Even if they're in the reserves, these people don't get trained, outfitted and shipped all over creation for free. Since the military has to make do on a measly $420.7 billion in 2005, one would be curious about how its property, even damaged property is dispensed with.
The point I'm trying to reach is what level of investment the military has in its soldiers and how it can so easily write off one or two or ten of them. Of all the military mottoes I could find on-line, none of them said anything about "leaving the laggards," "ready to downsize our own," or "tribuo in turbatus vicis." And for all the claims about esprit de corps or unit loyalty, there wasn't much about scapegoats, abandoning the losers or leaving that one guy hanging.
This is not to say that I think that Army Reserve Spc. Charles Graner Jr. should not be punished. If you abuse someone who has been remanded to your care, you will earn very little respect or consideration from me. But that's not my point here. I'm curious why problems with groups are resolved with the excision of individuals. If there was so much wrong with what happened there, why is cutting out two or five or twenty bad apples enough? Why isn't the entire system for military imprisonment dragged out into the daylight and examined? If a few dozen priests were molesting children, why isn't the church vivisecting all of the procedures that surround the problem? If there is a problem within a system, why are only a few individuals separated from that system and strung up as if that would be the end of it?
Again, I don't think that systemic problems are excuses for individuals to act like animals. But it doesn't make any sense to me to take a person acclimated to a system, punish him for something he did within that system, then not look any closer at why and how he did what he did. The military has problems. Big, deep, metastasized problems. So does the Los Angeles police department, the Catholic Church, the UN peacekeeping organization and almost every government on earth.
All these monstrous aggregates of policies, red tape and devoted company men get to keep on ensuring their own continued existence. And I want to know why it's okay to value these rancid, tumor-riddled dinosaurs that keep enabling abuse, crime, cruelty and the on-going degradation of the individual.
04 February 2005
All right, let�s get this over with.
I'm not trying to sound as though the second leg of the US trip was a chore. On the contrary, it was more fun than I've had in quite some time. But typing it up is a bit of work. Especially with all the other things that seem to take up far too much attention and energy. But I promised to put it here, and promises oughta be kept, even if it was only made to myself.
Especially if it was only made to myself.
Anyhow, Albuquerque is a good place to be, especially after a place like Tokyo. Most big cities can be criticized for ignoring human scale. Which is a reasonable complaint in a place where a million people have been crammed, usually vertically, into a space that would comfortably hold maybe a fourth of that number. If you want to keep Wall Street, Victoria Road or Ginza humming at full capacity, you have to load a maximum number of people into a building footprint. That means either going up or down, and not too many people can justify paying Wall Street, Victoria Road or Ginza rents for an office sunk down in the bowels of the earth. So people have to work in buildings that dwarf any sense of human interaction.
Take Roppongi Hills, for example. This stunning bit of futuristic architecture looks like Delta City from Robocop. But as cool as it must have looked on the architects' plans or as one of those foam-core models that usually winds up in a plastic box in the back corner of some office lobby, it completely exceeds any human sense of scale once you're within a half mile of it. It fills your field of vision vertically and spreads across four city blocks. And once you're actually in front of it, the place is surrounded by escalators, elevated walkways, parking access ramps and monolithic slabs of concrete stamped with the development's name. There are few obvious entrances, and the people surrounding the buildings seem to be move as if they were almost unaware of them. As if the disparities in size made the people unable to interact with the structures. They are out of human scale. And if you step back a bit, most of Tokyo is similarly out of scale. And spending too much time in places like that makes me feel not like a cosmopolitan city-dweller, but like I've been caught in a very large Habitrail� set.
But that's not the point I was originally intending to make. Tokyo is big, and the buildings are big, and I can't see enough of the horizon to feel comfortable. Albuquerque is nothing like that. Placed near the southern end of the Rocky Mountain Range, Albuquerque sits across a section of the Rio Grande valley, and has a central elevation of around 5,000 feet above sea level. But that doesn't mention that the town occupies two sides of a valley, and that the city limits on the west side of that valley are around 5,800 feet and in the Northeast fall at around 6,500 feet. That's a fairly steep slope, and it makes for some expansive views. You can see for miles. Literally from within the city you can look north, west or south and see peaks over 35 miles away. Your field of vision can cover 900 square miles. The land feels wide, spread out beneath an enormous dome of sky. And that's why I'm usually happy to go back there.
The previous paragraph was paid for in part by the Albuquerque Chamber of Commerce and the Albuquerque Tourist Board. �Albuquerque: we're more than just a wrong turn!"
So I was happy to spend the post-Xmas-to-New-Year's-Hangover-day period there. My friends were fine, my family was feisty and, in general, aspects of all acquaintances could be alliterated alluringly.
Not really, but we had a very good time before preparing for our journey west.
January 2-3: Been through the desert on a horse with no name.
But we couldn't get out of the rain. The worst winter storms in a couple of years drenched the southwest the entire time we were there. Otherwise arid areas were covered by thunderstorms in the south and blankets of snow in the north. The otherwise beautiful drive from New Mexico to LA was continually cloudy and interrupted with frequent, lashing rainstorms. Dramatic, but they did limit the view a bit.
Wait, I thought Detroit was the motor city...
There are a ton of things that suck about Tokyo's mass transit system. Riding it at certain times sucks in profoundly life-altering ways. But it is a mass transit system that moves huge masses of people quickly, cheaply and fairly. LA just can't compare. So you have to drive everywhere all the time. Which meant I did a lot less drinking than I otherwise might have.
But it was strange having to actively raise my language filters again. In Japan I really can't just read things; it takes an active effort to decode what the (few) symbols (that I can understand) mean. So I have to leave my input filters open more, if that makes any sense. I understand far less of my surrounding information field, so I need to take in more data. But for me, in the US there's no effort required to understand the meaning of stuff I could see. That shit just leaked all over the place. So I found myself having to actively ignore signs, advertisements, radio DJs and television promos. That was a little tiresome.
But otherwise, it was good to be back. I needed to see some familiar and deeply missed places. The food restored my faith in good. and the people were, well, the same jackasses that I remembered so fondly.
Then it was back to Japan.
There. Will that cover it?
Feh. Next time: more pissing, moaning and run-on sentences that go all around a topic, using all sorts of unusual, or generally unnecessary, clauses deemed appropriate at the time to explain a point which most people probably would have understood if given half a chance to just get to the point of the original idea that was supposed to have been ever-so-apro
Especially if it was only made to myself.
Anyhow, Albuquerque is a good place to be, especially after a place like Tokyo. Most big cities can be criticized for ignoring human scale. Which is a reasonable complaint in a place where a million people have been crammed, usually vertically, into a space that would comfortably hold maybe a fourth of that number. If you want to keep Wall Street, Victoria Road or Ginza humming at full capacity, you have to load a maximum number of people into a building footprint. That means either going up or down, and not too many people can justify paying Wall Street, Victoria Road or Ginza rents for an office sunk down in the bowels of the earth. So people have to work in buildings that dwarf any sense of human interaction.
Take Roppongi Hills, for example. This stunning bit of futuristic architecture looks like Delta City from Robocop. But as cool as it must have looked on the architects' plans or as one of those foam-core models that usually winds up in a plastic box in the back corner of some office lobby, it completely exceeds any human sense of scale once you're within a half mile of it. It fills your field of vision vertically and spreads across four city blocks. And once you're actually in front of it, the place is surrounded by escalators, elevated walkways, parking access ramps and monolithic slabs of concrete stamped with the development's name. There are few obvious entrances, and the people surrounding the buildings seem to be move as if they were almost unaware of them. As if the disparities in size made the people unable to interact with the structures. They are out of human scale. And if you step back a bit, most of Tokyo is similarly out of scale. And spending too much time in places like that makes me feel not like a cosmopolitan city-dweller, but like I've been caught in a very large Habitrail� set.
But that's not the point I was originally intending to make. Tokyo is big, and the buildings are big, and I can't see enough of the horizon to feel comfortable. Albuquerque is nothing like that. Placed near the southern end of the Rocky Mountain Range, Albuquerque sits across a section of the Rio Grande valley, and has a central elevation of around 5,000 feet above sea level. But that doesn't mention that the town occupies two sides of a valley, and that the city limits on the west side of that valley are around 5,800 feet and in the Northeast fall at around 6,500 feet. That's a fairly steep slope, and it makes for some expansive views. You can see for miles. Literally from within the city you can look north, west or south and see peaks over 35 miles away. Your field of vision can cover 900 square miles. The land feels wide, spread out beneath an enormous dome of sky. And that's why I'm usually happy to go back there.
The previous paragraph was paid for in part by the Albuquerque Chamber of Commerce and the Albuquerque Tourist Board. �Albuquerque: we're more than just a wrong turn!"
So I was happy to spend the post-Xmas-to-New-Year's-Hangover-day period there. My friends were fine, my family was feisty and, in general, aspects of all acquaintances could be alliterated alluringly.
Not really, but we had a very good time before preparing for our journey west.
January 2-3: Been through the desert on a horse with no name.
But we couldn't get out of the rain. The worst winter storms in a couple of years drenched the southwest the entire time we were there. Otherwise arid areas were covered by thunderstorms in the south and blankets of snow in the north. The otherwise beautiful drive from New Mexico to LA was continually cloudy and interrupted with frequent, lashing rainstorms. Dramatic, but they did limit the view a bit.
Wait, I thought Detroit was the motor city...
There are a ton of things that suck about Tokyo's mass transit system. Riding it at certain times sucks in profoundly life-altering ways. But it is a mass transit system that moves huge masses of people quickly, cheaply and fairly. LA just can't compare. So you have to drive everywhere all the time. Which meant I did a lot less drinking than I otherwise might have.
But it was strange having to actively raise my language filters again. In Japan I really can't just read things; it takes an active effort to decode what the (few) symbols (that I can understand) mean. So I have to leave my input filters open more, if that makes any sense. I understand far less of my surrounding information field, so I need to take in more data. But for me, in the US there's no effort required to understand the meaning of stuff I could see. That shit just leaked all over the place. So I found myself having to actively ignore signs, advertisements, radio DJs and television promos. That was a little tiresome.
But otherwise, it was good to be back. I needed to see some familiar and deeply missed places. The food restored my faith in good. and the people were, well, the same jackasses that I remembered so fondly.
Then it was back to Japan.
There. Will that cover it?
Feh. Next time: more pissing, moaning and run-on sentences that go all around a topic, using all sorts of unusual, or generally unnecessary, clauses deemed appropriate at the time to explain a point which most people probably would have understood if given half a chance to just get to the point of the original idea that was supposed to have been ever-so-apro
01 February 2005
I dig footnotes, Paul Robinson be damned!
I know I promised to finish the story of the trip to LA, but I had a conversation last week that left me feeling more than a bit puzzled, and I'd like to see what you have to say.
(I realize, of course, that no one is going to respond to this, thus thwarting my openly stated desire. This is, in a small way, what it's like trying to speak with small children who don't speak your language. Even if they do understand your meaning, there's nothing in their makeup that disposes them to respond to anyone who isn't directly threatening them. You can say whatever you want, but there's no real way to know if you're getting through.)
Anyhow, what happened was I met a volunteer who was trying to bring some of her outside-world experience to the elementary school. Being, presumably, an outgoing, proactive type, she took it on herself to speak with the school's foreigner-in-residence. Possibly for a chance to practice her English, although I never really trust why anyone chooses to try and talk with me anymore1.
But she actually seemed interested in finding out what I was doing there, why I was in an elementary school and where I was from. At which point in the conversation2 she revealed that she had spent some time as a volunteer in and around the Navajo reservation in Arizona and New Mexico3. Although I couldn't work out what it was she was doing there, the subject turned to communication. And it was here that she stated, in surprisingly expressive English, a rather unusual opinion.
"I think," she said "that Japan has a great culture, because you don't have to use English to live in Japan. Japanese people can speak only Japanese here and live. With only Japanese [language4], you can live in Japan. We don't need English here to live, you know?"
This was puzzling for a number of reasons. First off, she could speak confidently and fairly well in English. She must have had a considerable amount of practice. And if her story about being in Arizona/New Mexico was true, she spent a not-insignificant amount of time in a place where she must have used either English or Dineh (not her native languages) to get along. So why would she view living in a monolingual culture as especially valuable?
There is a great deal of turning inward in Japanese history and culture. From the expulsion of foreign missionaries in 1587, the prohibition of foreign books in 1623 and the ban on foreign travel in 1633 all the way up to the obsessive reporting on Matsui, Ichiro and Yuta Tabuse (to the exclusion of mention of the actual teams they were playing for or against) and the difficulties of becoming a naturalized citizen. The world5 outside just ain't so important as what's homegrown. And that's not terribly different from life in the US, now that I think about it.
But in the US I don't get a sense that the majority of people there claim to be same-thinking parts of an indivisible American whole. It seems almost laughably simplistic to think that anyone would presume to speak for everyone in America, presidential and political speeches included. But people here often will, without batting an eye, say something about "we Japanese" liking or thinking or doing a particular thing with the unstated certainty that anyone else would naturally give the same answer.
What color is the sky?
"Blue."
How many minutes in an hour?
"Sixty."
What is the formula for the area of a circle?
"Pi times the radius-squared."
Who likes fermented soybeans for breakfast?
"Japanese people do."
Does your father like hot springs?
"Japanese people like hot springs."
Why do you study English?
"Japanese people can't speak English fluently, despite six years of lessons in school6."
So why would this far-traveling volunteer have taken the trouble to make herself unique in the respect of learning another language to the degree of fluency she displayed? Was this her attitude after making all the effort and receiving some insufficient payoff? Did she not get an opportunity to use all that language skill she'd needlessly acquired and did that make her bitter?
Or was she trying to say that Japan didn't need English or English instruction? Perhaps it was her way of saying that I was wasting my time trying to teach English in elementary schools (a point I'd be inclined to agree with for different reasons). Maybe she meant that there was no need for her tax dollars to be spent on importing foreigners to teach Japanese children a language that they don't need. Maybe she was trying to say, indirectly, "Foreigners out!"
Again, that's not too different from the US.
Okay, next time I'll finish that stupid LA visit story. Honest.
1 This is largely due to a surprising number of apparently friendly people openly stating that they "want to use much English practice of [me] because English lessons cost is too much high." Come on. Would you tell a lawyer you'd like to get to know her because paying a retainer is too expensive, or a doctor that he's invited to your party because you and our friends have rashes you'd like looked at for free? I teach English to pay the rent and put beer on the table. And it's not really my idea of a good time to finish work then go to some crappy coffee shop to continue working, not for pay, but at a loss of time, potential wages, transportation and the price of a drink.1a
4 I assume she meant the language, and not "With only Japanese people..."
5 And, by extension, the people from that place.
6 An actual answer from a student at the Eikaiwa I work at. Incidentally, while there are a few words in Japanese that correspond with the idea of "irony," none of them are commonly used or familiar as a source of humor or commentary to most people I've spoken to.
(I realize, of course, that no one is going to respond to this, thus thwarting my openly stated desire. This is, in a small way, what it's like trying to speak with small children who don't speak your language. Even if they do understand your meaning, there's nothing in their makeup that disposes them to respond to anyone who isn't directly threatening them. You can say whatever you want, but there's no real way to know if you're getting through.)
Anyhow, what happened was I met a volunteer who was trying to bring some of her outside-world experience to the elementary school. Being, presumably, an outgoing, proactive type, she took it on herself to speak with the school's foreigner-in-residence. Possibly for a chance to practice her English, although I never really trust why anyone chooses to try and talk with me anymore1.
But she actually seemed interested in finding out what I was doing there, why I was in an elementary school and where I was from. At which point in the conversation2 she revealed that she had spent some time as a volunteer in and around the Navajo reservation in Arizona and New Mexico3. Although I couldn't work out what it was she was doing there, the subject turned to communication. And it was here that she stated, in surprisingly expressive English, a rather unusual opinion.
"I think," she said "that Japan has a great culture, because you don't have to use English to live in Japan. Japanese people can speak only Japanese here and live. With only Japanese [language4], you can live in Japan. We don't need English here to live, you know?"
This was puzzling for a number of reasons. First off, she could speak confidently and fairly well in English. She must have had a considerable amount of practice. And if her story about being in Arizona/New Mexico was true, she spent a not-insignificant amount of time in a place where she must have used either English or Dineh (not her native languages) to get along. So why would she view living in a monolingual culture as especially valuable?
There is a great deal of turning inward in Japanese history and culture. From the expulsion of foreign missionaries in 1587, the prohibition of foreign books in 1623 and the ban on foreign travel in 1633 all the way up to the obsessive reporting on Matsui, Ichiro and Yuta Tabuse (to the exclusion of mention of the actual teams they were playing for or against) and the difficulties of becoming a naturalized citizen. The world5 outside just ain't so important as what's homegrown. And that's not terribly different from life in the US, now that I think about it.
But in the US I don't get a sense that the majority of people there claim to be same-thinking parts of an indivisible American whole. It seems almost laughably simplistic to think that anyone would presume to speak for everyone in America, presidential and political speeches included. But people here often will, without batting an eye, say something about "we Japanese" liking or thinking or doing a particular thing with the unstated certainty that anyone else would naturally give the same answer.
What color is the sky?
"Blue."
How many minutes in an hour?
"Sixty."
What is the formula for the area of a circle?
"Pi times the radius-squared."
Who likes fermented soybeans for breakfast?
"Japanese people do."
Does your father like hot springs?
"Japanese people like hot springs."
Why do you study English?
"Japanese people can't speak English fluently, despite six years of lessons in school6."
So why would this far-traveling volunteer have taken the trouble to make herself unique in the respect of learning another language to the degree of fluency she displayed? Was this her attitude after making all the effort and receiving some insufficient payoff? Did she not get an opportunity to use all that language skill she'd needlessly acquired and did that make her bitter?
Or was she trying to say that Japan didn't need English or English instruction? Perhaps it was her way of saying that I was wasting my time trying to teach English in elementary schools (a point I'd be inclined to agree with for different reasons). Maybe she meant that there was no need for her tax dollars to be spent on importing foreigners to teach Japanese children a language that they don't need. Maybe she was trying to say, indirectly, "Foreigners out!"
Again, that's not too different from the US.
Okay, next time I'll finish that stupid LA visit story. Honest.
1 This is largely due to a surprising number of apparently friendly people openly stating that they "want to use much English practice of [me] because English lessons cost is too much high." Come on. Would you tell a lawyer you'd like to get to know her because paying a retainer is too expensive, or a doctor that he's invited to your party because you and our friends have rashes you'd like looked at for free? I teach English to pay the rent and put beer on the table. And it's not really my idea of a good time to finish work then go to some crappy coffee shop to continue working, not for pay, but at a loss of time, potential wages, transportation and the price of a drink.1a
1a At a typical chain coffee shop, around $3 for a 6 oz. cup of the house coffee, around $2 for an 8 oz. soda. No refills.2 It is worth noting that this is a fairly rare occurrence in 2nd language conversations in Japan. Ideally, most English conversations would roughly resemble a game of ping-pong or something, in which the conversational ball is propelled back and forth between the speakers by asking questions or making statements that the other person can reply to or comment on. But that sort of skill is almost never taught in Japanese English classes. As a result, most people are either unaware of, unable to or unwilling to take an active part in making conversation. Students in Eikaiwa schools2a will often say "Let's have a conversation," then give a series of single-word replies without ever asking "and you?" Again, playing the part of Charlie Rose or Conan O'Brien in a series of mind-crushingly dull interviews with people who have neither the vocabulary, the interest or the awareness of the existence of others needed to engage in ordinary dialogue is not my idea of a fun evening.
2a Translating literally as "English Conversation" schools, Eikaiwa are a rather profitable business in Japan that supposedly teach conversational English to people who have only learned how to use English on Multiple choice tests. While most take the form of group lessons focusing on specific grammar points or limited situations like checking into a hotel or talking about your company's new product, students can pay extra (anywhere from 50~250% extra) for private lessons or to join "Free Conversation" groups in which they can presumably practice speaking in a natural, unstructured way.3 Where I was born and spent my formative years.
4 I assume she meant the language, and not "With only Japanese people..."
5 And, by extension, the people from that place.
6 An actual answer from a student at the Eikaiwa I work at. Incidentally, while there are a few words in Japanese that correspond with the idea of "irony," none of them are commonly used or familiar as a source of humor or commentary to most people I've spoken to.
We regret the errors...
All of which were Microsoft's fault. I've been writing the last couple posts in Word and just pasting them in. But I failed to take into account Microsoft's ever-helpful software features. You know, the ones that automatically function in case you want all your ascii-compatible quotation marks turned into WYSIWYG marks that screw up html. Or append the next word to internet addresses. Or try to wedge the HTML-For-Dummies-grade tags that I've managed to write into automatically embedded tags that no longer have anything to refer to.
Which is to say that I've gone back and fixed the tags, links and most of the punctuation on the snide remarks. Not that you're likely to go back and re-read them, but still, I had to make the effort.
Which is to say that I've gone back and fixed the tags, links and most of the punctuation on the snide remarks. Not that you're likely to go back and re-read them, but still, I had to make the effort.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
