During my very first week at my chu-gakko (jr. high) six months ago I asked all the English teachers if there was anything they needed help with or anything they wanted me to do. It was summer vacation for the kids, so there weren't any classes for me to teach or lessons to prepare. I was happy to read up on my new prefecture or study Japanese on my own-- and the English teachers hadn't given me any work-- but I figured I should at least offer to do something. All 3 of them seemed at a loss...like they didn't really have anything for me to do, but they felt like they should. So Fukuyama Sensei, the 7th grade teacher, said, "Learn the students' names." I sorta thought he was kidding, but I wanted to show that my offer to do something was sincere, so I said, "Do you have their pictures?" (because, remember, they're on summer vacation, so I haven't even met any students yet) Surprisingly, he said that they did have students' pictures...and he went to a shelf and pulled out a binder which contained all the the 7th grade students' photographs organized by homeroom. Really?! I don't know why, but it hadn't really ever occurred to me that I would learn the kids' names here. I mean, I guess it seemed sorta impossible, so I hadn't even thought of it. But now that my "Do you have their pictures?" challenge had been answered, I felt like I had to do it, and all at once I was eager to do it. What I didn't know was that what awaited me was a crossword puzzle of repeatedly intersecting names that sounded like all the same syllables rearranged in different orders-- Ichiro and Ryoichi, Takayuki and Yukitaka, Takehiro and Hirotaka-- or variations of the same syllable combinations-- Shyuhei and Shyohei and Shyojiro and Shyoya and Shyota and Kota and Ryota and Ryotaro and Kyotaro and Keitaro and Kentaro and Kensuke and Keisuke and Kosuke and Ryosuke and Ryusuke and Yusuke and Yuya and Ryuya and Fumiya and Toshifumi and Fumiaki and Akihiro and Fumihiro and Tomohiro and Masahiro and Masayuki and Kazuyuki. And then there are the girls...Ryoko and Yoko (whose difference is obvious on paper, but almost imperceptible to my ears which have been taught to hear English sounds, not Japanese sounds) and Yuko and Yuki and Miyuki and Hiromi and Aami and Ayumi and Miku and Miki and Saki and Natsuki and Nastumi and Sumika and Ayaka and Akane and Kana and Rina and Reina and Reiko and Rikako and Momoko and Momoka and Mone. WHAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!
It has been a challenge. I think people's names are important to them and it makes them feel important when you refer to them by name. I feel nervous when I can't remember if it's Kenta or Keita, or Ryuhei or Ryohei. I feel happy when a student who didn't know that I knew his name is surprised (sometimes a little shocked, even) and smiling to hear me call him by name.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Recipe for Life in Japan
One day at school 3 months ago I was struck with several pervasive elements of Japanese life that are relatively non-existent in American life. I felt boxed in on every side. I pulled out my school journal and wrote
blood types
rules
speeches
rules
rules
no scarves. no watches (at school).? no water bottles at elementary lunch. no buying (!! buying?!) tortillas [at a Mexican restaurant] alone without having them cooked with something else. I'm surprised they don't say, "No curly hair."
blood types
rules
speeches
rules
rules
no scarves. no watches (at school).? no water bottles at elementary lunch. no buying (!! buying?!) tortillas [at a Mexican restaurant] alone without having them cooked with something else. I'm surprised they don't say, "No curly hair."
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Dear Teachers
I wrote this letter at school one day a couple months ago.
November 26th, 2008
Dear Teachers,
Here's what I want you to know:
(and if you gave me the trademark-of-Japanese-life opportunity to give a speech, and if I was in fact able to leap the language barrier [and, OF COURSE, the cultural politeness barrier, which-- honestly-- would require me to be an Olympian pole vaulter] and say what I really mean, this is what I'd tell you...)
I think it's weird that you don't say "hi" when you see me for the first time in a day-- that you walk right past without acknowledging me. I think it's weird that you seem to enjoy talking to me and you will talk and laugh with me throughout the day one day and then not say anything to me the next. I don't understand why you don't ask me questions...like "How was your weekend?" (or "When is your birthday?") I just can't read you. What do you think of me, I wonder... Do you think I'm loud and so you don't want to talk to me because I might draw attention with my loud voice (by Japanese standards) and laugh (which, I admit, is loud by any standards)? Do I annoy you? Do you really not ask each other these questions either? Because that's how it seems, but that seems unbelievable!
Approximately a month after writing this letter (which, really, was brewing in me for soo long), I realized and found out some things that are helpful. 1. It occurred to me one day how inadequate the Japanese translation for "How are you?" is. "Genki desu ka?" literally means, "Are you well/healthy/energetic?" So it's a yes or no question. It doesn't avail anyone the opportunity to say how they really are. When I ask a Japanese person "O-genki desu ka?" I really mean, 'Are you enjoying today? Is everything okay with your family? Do you have a busy week? Is there something you're excited about? Sad about? What's new?' but I get merely a 'yes' or 'no' and sometimes not even that...about a third of the time I get only a 'thank you for asking'. 2. I told my friend, Shiyo, the same thing I said in the letter. She went to college in the States for a semester, so she knows some about American social culture. And she is an open-minded person, so I figured she could handle it and not be offended. She said, "We don't have such a culture" [to ask "How are you?"]. She continued, "We say 'good morning', but we don't ask each other how we're doing." (This confirmed what I thought to be true...because I never hear anyone asking each other...yet it just seemed unfathomable, so I thought I just must not understand those conversations...like maybe they were asking each other in a different way, using words I don't know.) I further explained to her that it's really strange to me that when I ask "How are you?" in English, people usually just say "fine" and nothing more-- which is what you'd typically say to someone you really don't want to talk to. "When you ask a Japanese person how they are, they don't know what to say", she explained. Basically she said that since they don't ask each other that question, they have no repertoire of responses-- especially in English. These 2 things helped me feel much relieved about this daily issue. Yet, though I now know I'm not being singled out to be ignored, I still feel isolated when the people by whom I'm surrounded daily don't engage me in intentional conversation. It's so different. This is culture shock.
November 26th, 2008
Dear Teachers,
Here's what I want you to know:
(and if you gave me the trademark-of-Japanese-life opportunity to give a speech, and if I was in fact able to leap the language barrier [and, OF COURSE, the cultural politeness barrier, which-- honestly-- would require me to be an Olympian pole vaulter] and say what I really mean, this is what I'd tell you...)
I think it's weird that you don't say "hi" when you see me for the first time in a day-- that you walk right past without acknowledging me. I think it's weird that you seem to enjoy talking to me and you will talk and laugh with me throughout the day one day and then not say anything to me the next. I don't understand why you don't ask me questions...like "How was your weekend?" (or "When is your birthday?") I just can't read you. What do you think of me, I wonder... Do you think I'm loud and so you don't want to talk to me because I might draw attention with my loud voice (by Japanese standards) and laugh (which, I admit, is loud by any standards)? Do I annoy you? Do you really not ask each other these questions either? Because that's how it seems, but that seems unbelievable!
Approximately a month after writing this letter (which, really, was brewing in me for soo long), I realized and found out some things that are helpful. 1. It occurred to me one day how inadequate the Japanese translation for "How are you?" is. "Genki desu ka?" literally means, "Are you well/healthy/energetic?" So it's a yes or no question. It doesn't avail anyone the opportunity to say how they really are. When I ask a Japanese person "O-genki desu ka?" I really mean, 'Are you enjoying today? Is everything okay with your family? Do you have a busy week? Is there something you're excited about? Sad about? What's new?' but I get merely a 'yes' or 'no' and sometimes not even that...about a third of the time I get only a 'thank you for asking'. 2. I told my friend, Shiyo, the same thing I said in the letter. She went to college in the States for a semester, so she knows some about American social culture. And she is an open-minded person, so I figured she could handle it and not be offended. She said, "We don't have such a culture" [to ask "How are you?"]. She continued, "We say 'good morning', but we don't ask each other how we're doing." (This confirmed what I thought to be true...because I never hear anyone asking each other...yet it just seemed unfathomable, so I thought I just must not understand those conversations...like maybe they were asking each other in a different way, using words I don't know.) I further explained to her that it's really strange to me that when I ask "How are you?" in English, people usually just say "fine" and nothing more-- which is what you'd typically say to someone you really don't want to talk to. "When you ask a Japanese person how they are, they don't know what to say", she explained. Basically she said that since they don't ask each other that question, they have no repertoire of responses-- especially in English. These 2 things helped me feel much relieved about this daily issue. Yet, though I now know I'm not being singled out to be ignored, I still feel isolated when the people by whom I'm surrounded daily don't engage me in intentional conversation. It's so different. This is culture shock.
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