Night of the big Hip-Hop event. I began the evening by going to Capoeira. It was Z's birthday, so, by tradition, everyone was supposed to try to knock the birthday boy down in the roda. I was unaware of this at the time, and was surprised when Z kicked me square below the ribs. I remember letting out a groan, but then I got to my feet and kept playing. I was hurt, but I got kicked just hard enough as to feel it but not be injured. Later, I figured Z was being extra-defensive because he probably thought everyone was out to get him.
After class, everyone took Z to dinner. I wanted to go, but I had the big-Hip-Hop event to attend, and I was supposed to meet my girl downtown later that night. I needed time to go back home and shower, so I couldn't make the dinner. After getting home and showering, I was right on time to catch the subway back to downtown Sakae to meet my date. We linked up and walked our way to the nearby venue.
We arrived to the spot, and I was surprised to see the spot overrun with people. Heads were pouring out of the 5-story club complex into the street, bringing oncoming traffic to a halt. This was by far the biggest turnout I'd seen for anything Hip-Hop related since I've been in Japan. We fought our way up the crowded stairwells toward the entrance. There had to have been thousands of guys and girls there, and all Japanese, although I did occasionally spot a solo brotha sticking out. Soon after, Koolaid spotted me and came up and gave me dap. I asked him where to enter and about the open mic schedule. He told me where to go, and that the open mic would start at 1:50a. After that he ran off, and that was the last I saw him for the night.
We went and got our admission wristbands, which meant we could enter any floor of the complex with no cover. We had some time to kill, so we entered one floor, hit the bar and watched, rather, listened to some sort of rap performance; the place was so packed we couldn't see the stage over everyone's head. I asked my girl could she understand any of the Japanese rap lyrics, and she said she didn't understand at all. That made two of us. After a while, we decided to hit another floor to chill and dance. We went downstairs and entered another severely packed club. We had to shove our way through just to make it past the bar onto the dancefloor. We danced for a little while, but realized we could hardly move because the place was so packed and stuffy. Plu, the dj was horrible; 20 seconds after a good record came on, he would cut it off and switch to something completely different. We gave up dancing and cooled off for a while before heading back upstairs to another club. On the way up, I noticed a club entrance on the 3rd floor which was unrelated to the event. There was a big white sign on the door, which read, in English: "JAPANESE ONLY." Although it was my first time seeing one of these signs, I heard about Nagoya clubs which catered only to Japanese clientele and banned the entry of foreigners, even those clubs which only played Black music--so, I wasn't shocked. Though, I wondered if the sign had been made especially for me, as I was the only non-Japanese person in sight. I thought the sign was laughable, since I'd only seen a handful of brothas throughout the night, I doubted that club would've had any problems with being overrun with foreigners. ..Ahh, gotta love those unabashedly racist, xenophobic Japanese.
The time was nearing for the open mic, so we headed into the corresponding venue. We entered a smoky little club where some Japanese female trio was crooning some Black R&B type songs, backed by a live band. The lead singer was on some Japanese earth goddess Erykah Badu-ey type vibe, but I wasn't feeling it. I thought the band was okay, although the vocalists weren't particularly good; however, they sang in Japanese with some English lyrics interspersed, which I thought was interesting. So, even though Japanese hip-hoppers can't understand English lyrics, you have Japanese singing in English? Interesting.
After we endured the singing, we had to stomach some mediocre hip-hop dancers followed by some 30+-looking clown who called himself trying to rap. The guy was irking me because he kept throwing up his middle fingers and saying the "f word," which had absolutely no relevance to anything. I guess he thought it was cool to make offensive Western gestures, I dunno. Apparently, this guy had fans, as I noticed crowd members mouthing his lyrics along with his background dancers. At that point, we noticed the whole audience had dwindled down to a sizeable posse of high school girls. I think we were both pretty turned off by the whole act.
After that, there was what seemed like an intermission, but then we noticed everyone was leaving. Not long after, the band and deejays cleared the stage and leaving, with their cases and coffins in hand. It was almost 3 am. We were like, "That's it?" I asked the resident deejay about the open mic, and he said it wasn't to be. Great. I'd wasted my time coming out for nothing. I'd even had some Japanese to kick in my flows.
Disappointed, we immediately called it a night, even though we could have partied out until the event's end at 8am, we'd seen enough and decided to head home. My only consulation for the night was that I hadn't had to drop a silver yen to get into the event--I would've been livid if I had. Wackness.
I came to the event lacking high expectations--so I suppose I got what I expected. What I saw that night was far removed from Hip-Hop--it was more like Gyp-hop, or Jip-Hop, because I felt truly gyped, even though I got in free. I was utterly uninspired by the lack of talent, skill, and creativity. Despite the huge turnout, which meant mo' money for Koolaid & Co., it was a truly WACK event, and after having not participated in any like events in over a year and witnessing that, I think I've officially washed my hands to anything Hip-Hop-related in Nagoya.
Mar 27, 2004
Mar 24, 2004
KOOLAID & DA GANG
After school, Richard called to update me on his ongoing struggle with our company. It seems that, now, they're trying to get rid of him, because he's raised such a fuss. Richard hasn't been quite as tactful as I have in dealing with our company issue; he's sent mass emails to teachers, lambasting the company, and even been in verbal confrontations with company staff members and the president, which has left a bad taste in the mouth of the company. However, the company has been shady in how they've handled some business. They waited 2 weeks before the new school year starts to tell him that they don't want him back. Company policy states that they're supposed to give employees a month's notice before termination. The company may be mis-stepping, and Richard is talking of pursuing legal action. Even though I'm still employed, I still empathize and feel the struggle, because these English companies, schools and agencies make millions off of foreign employees, but don't give them the respect they deserve. Power to the Foreign People!
On an unrelated note, I still needed some info about this coming Saturday night's Hip-Hop event that Richard's Japanese graffitist friend, Koolaid, had told us about some weeks back. Koolaid invited me to the open mic segment, but we hadn't discussed any other details about the event or about entry fees. I told Richard I wasn't attending the event if I had to pay, so he called Koolaid up to investigate the issue, but it seemed Koolaid didn't remember who I was. Richard decided to go stop by hos studio again to refresh his memory. Richard picked me up and we headed to Koolaid's newest graf shop and studio in Tsuramai, on the same street as Radix, the club I'd performed at my first year in Nagoya. We arrived to the shop, where Koolaid and a couple of his people were straightening things out, while music played over the wall speakers. The place was pretty spiffy--the floor tiles were still gleaming white, and the crates of spray paint looked like they'd been just unloaded. Koolaid came down immediately from the second landing and shook our hands. Koolaid proceeded to show us around the small shop. There were all kinds of novelty decorations on the walls, including a big scary-looking Gene Simmons KISS rubber mask. He took me into a small room with a studio space where he'd started a wall mural. It was a cartoony depiction of a hip-hoppy-looking guy pointing a large black pistol at a hip-hoppy-looking girl. Interesting. Considering that firearms are completely illegal, I was wondering what inspired the painting, though I didn't bother asking. Apparently, we'd arrived on the opening day of Oriental Street Service. There were large, expensive-looking bouquets of real flowers all over the store. Koolaid offered a huge bouquet to Richard, which Richard accepted and immediately went out and stashed into his car. Koolaid offered me one, but I declined. He told me that it was a Japanese tradition for a business to give away bouquets of flowers on its opening day. First time I ever heard of that tradition. I was more taken by the irony of a graffiti shop giving away bouquets of pretty flowers.
But moreso, I was wondering HOW THE HECK did dude manage to just open up shops and studios as a businessman, and still be an artist. Plus Koolaid didn't come off as the business-type; he seemed really into creating his art. Richard told me that Koolaid had another shop in Tokyo. That shop, plus the studio and this new shop made 3 businesses nationwide. My question was answered when Richard also told me that the yakuza, the Japanese organized mafia, fronted cash to throw up Koolaid's businesses. Interesting. Somebody within the local "yak" probably figured they could profit of the niche talents of Koolaid.
Cultural note: The yakuza functions as a non-centralized entity within Japanese bureaucracy. They're present on all levels of business, and influence the police and government. Updated from some of the more ostensible thuggish appearances of old, many members of today's yakuza are everyday businessmen who work fulltime office jobs. In seedy Nagoya, the yakuza has its hands in all types of enterprises, such as: nightclubs, gambling parlors, loan companies, of course prostitution, etc. Wherever there are large profits being made in Japan, one can be sure the yakuza are involved.
Anyway, we asked about the event, and he agreed to put my name on the guest list, plus two guests of my own. Richard was scheduled to deejay in Osaka that Saturday, so he couldn't attend the event. My girl expressed that she wanted to go, and the other guest spot was in case someone else I knew wanted to come. Koolaid and I talked about the open mic a little. I told him that I wondered how thr crowd would react to all English lyrics. He suggested I intersperse some Japanese in my flow to arouse the crowd. I'm not really trying to rap in Japanese, but perhaps I could spin a line or two, for the crowd's sake. Dunno. I'll think about it.
On an unrelated note, I still needed some info about this coming Saturday night's Hip-Hop event that Richard's Japanese graffitist friend, Koolaid, had told us about some weeks back. Koolaid invited me to the open mic segment, but we hadn't discussed any other details about the event or about entry fees. I told Richard I wasn't attending the event if I had to pay, so he called Koolaid up to investigate the issue, but it seemed Koolaid didn't remember who I was. Richard decided to go stop by hos studio again to refresh his memory. Richard picked me up and we headed to Koolaid's newest graf shop and studio in Tsuramai, on the same street as Radix, the club I'd performed at my first year in Nagoya. We arrived to the shop, where Koolaid and a couple of his people were straightening things out, while music played over the wall speakers. The place was pretty spiffy--the floor tiles were still gleaming white, and the crates of spray paint looked like they'd been just unloaded. Koolaid came down immediately from the second landing and shook our hands. Koolaid proceeded to show us around the small shop. There were all kinds of novelty decorations on the walls, including a big scary-looking Gene Simmons KISS rubber mask. He took me into a small room with a studio space where he'd started a wall mural. It was a cartoony depiction of a hip-hoppy-looking guy pointing a large black pistol at a hip-hoppy-looking girl. Interesting. Considering that firearms are completely illegal, I was wondering what inspired the painting, though I didn't bother asking. Apparently, we'd arrived on the opening day of Oriental Street Service. There were large, expensive-looking bouquets of real flowers all over the store. Koolaid offered a huge bouquet to Richard, which Richard accepted and immediately went out and stashed into his car. Koolaid offered me one, but I declined. He told me that it was a Japanese tradition for a business to give away bouquets of flowers on its opening day. First time I ever heard of that tradition. I was more taken by the irony of a graffiti shop giving away bouquets of pretty flowers.
But moreso, I was wondering HOW THE HECK did dude manage to just open up shops and studios as a businessman, and still be an artist. Plus Koolaid didn't come off as the business-type; he seemed really into creating his art. Richard told me that Koolaid had another shop in Tokyo. That shop, plus the studio and this new shop made 3 businesses nationwide. My question was answered when Richard also told me that the yakuza, the Japanese organized mafia, fronted cash to throw up Koolaid's businesses. Interesting. Somebody within the local "yak" probably figured they could profit of the niche talents of Koolaid.
Cultural note: The yakuza functions as a non-centralized entity within Japanese bureaucracy. They're present on all levels of business, and influence the police and government. Updated from some of the more ostensible thuggish appearances of old, many members of today's yakuza are everyday businessmen who work fulltime office jobs. In seedy Nagoya, the yakuza has its hands in all types of enterprises, such as: nightclubs, gambling parlors, loan companies, of course prostitution, etc. Wherever there are large profits being made in Japan, one can be sure the yakuza are involved.
Anyway, we asked about the event, and he agreed to put my name on the guest list, plus two guests of my own. Richard was scheduled to deejay in Osaka that Saturday, so he couldn't attend the event. My girl expressed that she wanted to go, and the other guest spot was in case someone else I knew wanted to come. Koolaid and I talked about the open mic a little. I told him that I wondered how thr crowd would react to all English lyrics. He suggested I intersperse some Japanese in my flow to arouse the crowd. I'm not really trying to rap in Japanese, but perhaps I could spin a line or two, for the crowd's sake. Dunno. I'll think about it.
THE LAST LAST DAY OF SCHOOL
Today was it. I walked in the staffroom right at the beginning of our morning meeting. I silently made my way to the locker room to hang my jacket, then hung back a bit as not to walk across the room and disrupt the meeting. When I came back in, 2 teachers who were leaving our school gave short goodbye-thank you speeches to the teachers. The principal looked at me, smiled, and made a comment about me coming back for the next school year, so as to excuse me from making any speech of my own. I'd actually intended to offer some words, but caught standing there off-guard, still with my bag in hand, I simply was unprepared at that moment.
We had a closing ceremony with all of the students, to officially end the school year. During the ceremony, grades 1-3 gave short class presentations demonstrating some of the things they's learned throughout the year. The second graders did English and sang some of the songs they'd learned. It was kind of a cute tribute to me. The same two teachers who were leaving gave goodbye-thank you speeches in front of all of the students. Asano-sensei, the assistant principal, acknowledged me at the ceremony and announced to the students that I would be returning for the following year, so, again, I wasn't asked to make any speech. It seems like everyone, including myself, is expecting me to return to the same school in April, although the local board of ed. makes the final placement decisions.
After the ceremony, the kids were sent home but the teachers had meetings, so everyone returned to the staffroom. There was no school lunch, so most people ordered bento lunch sets from a local shop. They didn't know the contents of the lunch, so I opted to get my lunch from the convenience store close to school. Other teachers also opted out of the bento lunches, so Kawamura-sensei and I made a run to the store to get grub for ourselves and some other teachers.
Mrs. Kawamura is an unbelievably nice lady, so much that when I first met her I thought she was faking it. I liked her early on because she never spoke to me like I was illiterate. She always speaks with a sincere and caring tone. I've never even heard her raise her voice at her students, even when she was upset. She kinda reminds me of the Good Witch of the East. No pun intended.
At the convenience store, she wouldn't let me pay for my own food that I selected from the bento section. I tried to pay and failed. After we reached the car, she ran back in and bought me some yogurt because she thought I didn't have enough to eat. Before I had a chance to say "No, that's alright, thank you" she was already halfway back to the front door. Super nice lady.
Before lunch, we had another short meeting in the staffroom. The principal made some announcements then motioned to end the meeting for lunch. At that point, I raised my hand to speak. Standing up at my desk, I gave a short speech.
At first apologizing for my inept Japanese, I proceeded to express my contentment with teaching for the past year, as well as thanks to the teachers for their great kindness throughout the year which, in part, enhanced my life in Japan.
My speech came off much more solemnly than I'd imagined--it was my first experience expressing any particularly heartfelt feelings in Japanese, and my lack of skill with the language perhaps compounded any sense of vulnerability I felt as I expressed myself earnestly in front of so many. As I'd only thought about what I wanted to say, I hadn't written any words down, and briefly paused after every sentence as I tried to recall the next line. While speaking, I found it hard to make eye contact with anyone, only able to focus on the principal's face from time to time, as to control the oncoming of any eyewater. Similarly, I find that Japanese people rarely make individual eyen contact when speaking to large groups of people, so, I suppose I didn't come off too out of place. Everyone sat quietly and patiently as I humbly pieced my speech together, and as I said my final thanks and took my seat, they applauded. Then we ate lunch.
In the afternoon, there was a big 2-hour teachers meeting at my JHS that everyone had to attend. The meeting involved a lecture from a universtiy professor about how to improve classes and teaching methods for Japanese students. The subject matter was rather academic, so Okado-sensei, the youngest English teacher from my JHS, sat next to me and periodically wrote down notes for me in English to keep me abreast of the topics.
Ironically, the professor's lecture held my attention more than some of the Japanese teachers. One would have thought since I understood what was going on the least, I would've gotten bored the quickest, however, when I glanced around the meeting room I was amused to see several teachers who'd dozed off. I looked to my right and saw the vice-principal of my elementary school's forehead almost touching the table. Actually, I was able to recognize a number of words from the lecture, although I didn't comprehend the full meaning of the statements that were being made.
The professor talked for over 2 hours straight, running over the scheduled time for the meeting. By the time 4pm came, everyone was kind of jittery, antsily glancing at the overhead wallclock. Finally, the meeting ended and the elementary school teachers started ushering themselves toward the exit of the meeting room. Ready to get my vacation started, I packed my stuff to leave. Before I made it out of my seat, Isobe-sensei, the assistant principal of my JHS, asked me to give an end-of-the-year speech to all the attending JHS teachers. I felt a little hesitant, because I hadn't prepared anything to say to them, mainly because I didn't really have anything to say to them. To be courteous, I decided to say some words anyway.
When I stood in front of the teachers to speak, most were still sitting, busily chatting amongst each other, paying me no mind. I looked over several times at Isobe-sensei, waiting for an okay signal to begin, as it seemed I had no one's attention. He nodded his head, and I started speaking. In Japanese, I briefly told them that I'd enjoyed teaching the students during the school year, which I had, and finished with a thank you. I felt like I was reciting lines, as there was no warm sentiment in my words, because I didn't feel like I had anything in particular to thank them for, as I'd more or less ignored by them for almost an entire year. My experiences with the teachers at elementary and junior high were like day and night.
I was really turned off by the general behavior of most of the JHS teachers towards me throughout the school year. While I didn't feel like people were being impolite, I did feel like there was a slight lack of respect and consideration for me, a foreign national teacher, a guest of sorts, who played an integral role in the education of hundreds of students; instead, I felt like a total outsider within the school organization, generally ignored, and disincluded in school affairs. Although I felt like I had good rapport with the principals, I'd say that most of those teachers, in no certain terms, made it obvious that they had no interest to willingly engage me, the foreigner. Ah, I suppose that's more reflective of typical Japanese behavior--to keep what's from the outside on the outside. We'll see how things go during the new school year.
We had a closing ceremony with all of the students, to officially end the school year. During the ceremony, grades 1-3 gave short class presentations demonstrating some of the things they's learned throughout the year. The second graders did English and sang some of the songs they'd learned. It was kind of a cute tribute to me. The same two teachers who were leaving gave goodbye-thank you speeches in front of all of the students. Asano-sensei, the assistant principal, acknowledged me at the ceremony and announced to the students that I would be returning for the following year, so, again, I wasn't asked to make any speech. It seems like everyone, including myself, is expecting me to return to the same school in April, although the local board of ed. makes the final placement decisions.
After the ceremony, the kids were sent home but the teachers had meetings, so everyone returned to the staffroom. There was no school lunch, so most people ordered bento lunch sets from a local shop. They didn't know the contents of the lunch, so I opted to get my lunch from the convenience store close to school. Other teachers also opted out of the bento lunches, so Kawamura-sensei and I made a run to the store to get grub for ourselves and some other teachers.
Mrs. Kawamura is an unbelievably nice lady, so much that when I first met her I thought she was faking it. I liked her early on because she never spoke to me like I was illiterate. She always speaks with a sincere and caring tone. I've never even heard her raise her voice at her students, even when she was upset. She kinda reminds me of the Good Witch of the East. No pun intended.
At the convenience store, she wouldn't let me pay for my own food that I selected from the bento section. I tried to pay and failed. After we reached the car, she ran back in and bought me some yogurt because she thought I didn't have enough to eat. Before I had a chance to say "No, that's alright, thank you" she was already halfway back to the front door. Super nice lady.
Before lunch, we had another short meeting in the staffroom. The principal made some announcements then motioned to end the meeting for lunch. At that point, I raised my hand to speak. Standing up at my desk, I gave a short speech.
At first apologizing for my inept Japanese, I proceeded to express my contentment with teaching for the past year, as well as thanks to the teachers for their great kindness throughout the year which, in part, enhanced my life in Japan.
My speech came off much more solemnly than I'd imagined--it was my first experience expressing any particularly heartfelt feelings in Japanese, and my lack of skill with the language perhaps compounded any sense of vulnerability I felt as I expressed myself earnestly in front of so many. As I'd only thought about what I wanted to say, I hadn't written any words down, and briefly paused after every sentence as I tried to recall the next line. While speaking, I found it hard to make eye contact with anyone, only able to focus on the principal's face from time to time, as to control the oncoming of any eyewater. Similarly, I find that Japanese people rarely make individual eyen contact when speaking to large groups of people, so, I suppose I didn't come off too out of place. Everyone sat quietly and patiently as I humbly pieced my speech together, and as I said my final thanks and took my seat, they applauded. Then we ate lunch.
In the afternoon, there was a big 2-hour teachers meeting at my JHS that everyone had to attend. The meeting involved a lecture from a universtiy professor about how to improve classes and teaching methods for Japanese students. The subject matter was rather academic, so Okado-sensei, the youngest English teacher from my JHS, sat next to me and periodically wrote down notes for me in English to keep me abreast of the topics.
Ironically, the professor's lecture held my attention more than some of the Japanese teachers. One would have thought since I understood what was going on the least, I would've gotten bored the quickest, however, when I glanced around the meeting room I was amused to see several teachers who'd dozed off. I looked to my right and saw the vice-principal of my elementary school's forehead almost touching the table. Actually, I was able to recognize a number of words from the lecture, although I didn't comprehend the full meaning of the statements that were being made.
The professor talked for over 2 hours straight, running over the scheduled time for the meeting. By the time 4pm came, everyone was kind of jittery, antsily glancing at the overhead wallclock. Finally, the meeting ended and the elementary school teachers started ushering themselves toward the exit of the meeting room. Ready to get my vacation started, I packed my stuff to leave. Before I made it out of my seat, Isobe-sensei, the assistant principal of my JHS, asked me to give an end-of-the-year speech to all the attending JHS teachers. I felt a little hesitant, because I hadn't prepared anything to say to them, mainly because I didn't really have anything to say to them. To be courteous, I decided to say some words anyway.
When I stood in front of the teachers to speak, most were still sitting, busily chatting amongst each other, paying me no mind. I looked over several times at Isobe-sensei, waiting for an okay signal to begin, as it seemed I had no one's attention. He nodded his head, and I started speaking. In Japanese, I briefly told them that I'd enjoyed teaching the students during the school year, which I had, and finished with a thank you. I felt like I was reciting lines, as there was no warm sentiment in my words, because I didn't feel like I had anything in particular to thank them for, as I'd more or less ignored by them for almost an entire year. My experiences with the teachers at elementary and junior high were like day and night.
I was really turned off by the general behavior of most of the JHS teachers towards me throughout the school year. While I didn't feel like people were being impolite, I did feel like there was a slight lack of respect and consideration for me, a foreign national teacher, a guest of sorts, who played an integral role in the education of hundreds of students; instead, I felt like a total outsider within the school organization, generally ignored, and disincluded in school affairs. Although I felt like I had good rapport with the principals, I'd say that most of those teachers, in no certain terms, made it obvious that they had no interest to willingly engage me, the foreigner. Ah, I suppose that's more reflective of typical Japanese behavior--to keep what's from the outside on the outside. We'll see how things go during the new school year.
Mar 23, 2004
LAST DAY OF SCHOOL
Today was the last day of school for the kids. Since there were no real classes, the kids got to play games and recess most of the day. I basically had a full workday of free time so I went and hung out with some of them.
Yesterday's rain had dried up, and the weather was pretty nice--sunny, cool, and breezy. I went out on the giant sand playfield and played a little soccer with the second graders, then I joined the same class inside for a Janken (pr. john ken) (Rock, Paper, Scissors) tournament. Rock, Paper, Scissors is probably the most popular kid's game in Japan, and the means by which many kids' conflicts are resolved. If only world conflicts could be decided with Rock, Paper, Scissors.
At 3rd period, I got the chance to test out my new kite with the 1st graders. The light breeze made for ideal kite-flying conditions, though, to the relief of two flyers, I helped rescue a couple of wayward kites from trees. It was nuts trying to fly with 50+ kids running around. I don't think I went 3 minutes without ensnaring kites with one of the munchkins. I thought I was the man when I got my kite the highest, until little Kohei (pr. ko hay) topped me out--his kite must've reached at least 50 feet. He was the 6-year old man. That was pretty much my day at work.
Tomorrow we have our closing ceremony. One more day til' Spring Break!
Yesterday's rain had dried up, and the weather was pretty nice--sunny, cool, and breezy. I went out on the giant sand playfield and played a little soccer with the second graders, then I joined the same class inside for a Janken (pr. john ken) (Rock, Paper, Scissors) tournament. Rock, Paper, Scissors is probably the most popular kid's game in Japan, and the means by which many kids' conflicts are resolved. If only world conflicts could be decided with Rock, Paper, Scissors.
At 3rd period, I got the chance to test out my new kite with the 1st graders. The light breeze made for ideal kite-flying conditions, though, to the relief of two flyers, I helped rescue a couple of wayward kites from trees. It was nuts trying to fly with 50+ kids running around. I don't think I went 3 minutes without ensnaring kites with one of the munchkins. I thought I was the man when I got my kite the highest, until little Kohei (pr. ko hay) topped me out--his kite must've reached at least 50 feet. He was the 6-year old man. That was pretty much my day at work.
Tomorrow we have our closing ceremony. One more day til' Spring Break!
Mar 22, 2004
CHEW & BREW BLOWOUT
Whenever I go to Japanese nomikai (drinking parties), I always carry this ambition to get well-fed. Never happens. I guess that's why it's called a "drinking party." A bunch of people trying their hardest to get smacked beyond dexterity.
Yamada-sensei met me in a cab near my home station around 6-ish. We live in the same ward. We arrived to the ever-busy Nagoya Station shortly after. He refused my offer to pay half of cabfare, as always. Neither of us had ever been to the restaurant, which was on the 12th floor of one of the two Central Towers, in the same building as the Marriott Hotel. The place wasn't hard to find, and as expected, it was pretty jiggy. We had about 20 heads occupying a Japanese-style room, full with a large window with a great view westward over the bullet train tracks and neon lights of the countless shops behind Nagoya Station.
It's funny to see your co-workers at drinking parties, especially Japanese. They really go all out, as such parties are one of the few social experiences they have to really let their hair down. So they do it up big. People get loud and boisterous, and some get ambitious with their English. Fortunately for me, I'm in the good graces of the elementary crew, so people only expressed more niceness towards me as they got "nicer." More funny was the fact that the eldest people were drinking the most. The principal was smoking and ordering gin and tonics like mad, and the vice-prinicipal's face was tomato-red within a half-hour from the first round of drinks. He'd invited his nephew-in-law, Nick Benwell. They had us sit next to one another, I suppose for language support. In true Brit-fashion, Nick was knocking back his fair share. I stuck with the standard tap brew, which I could barely sip the head off of before the assistant vice-principal refilled my mug--typical Japanese drinking etiquette. Even the old staff lady who serves school lunch everyday was hammering then back. Meanwhile, I was trying to get my belly fully with a bunch of food that totaled up to a bunch of teasy appetizers moreso than a full meal. At first, there was sashimi, or raw fish--salmon, tuna, shrimp, squid, etc. with soy sauce and wasabi. Tasty but not filling. They had nabe-style soup cooking on the tables, but I didn't mess with it because of all the piggie swimming around in it. They brought out some little broiled chicken wings with lemon wedges, which I put a small dent in. After that, there was tenpura--lightly batter-fried veggies and jumbo shrimp served with soy sauce. Again, yummy but not sticking to a bro's ribs. Then there was udon, thick wheat noodles served with soy sauce. Then they brought out the crab legs and heads, not served with soy sauce. The only thing we didn't have was rice. Then it dawned on me,
Q:"Why is rice never served at drinking parties?" Afterall, rice is served with most Japanese meals.
A: Because they don't want the rice soaking up all that alcohol everybody's chugging back. No rice = you drink more and get drunk faster = mo' yen for the restaurants. Ah-ha! Sherlock Homeboy cracks another one.
At one point, the principal had me and Nick drinking hot sake out of crab heads--full with crab brains floating around in it, which I found out that spilt out of the eyeball sockets if the shell was tilted the wrong way. That was pretty decadent stuff, and I only drank it as not to be rude. Finally, they served some little green tea-flavored ice cream balls with strawberries. I surprised at how much food was left over, because I know that stuff wasn't cheap. We ended the festivity with the assistant vice-principal, well-inebriated, giving some closing thank you's and good job's and then we all stood and made one big clap with our hands, and gave some sort of cheer. After that we bowed, said our goodbyes, then went home. And all this before 9pm.
As I hadn't drunken much, I left, not tipsy even. The other heads were pretty smacked though. I know Yamada-san took the bus home. I'm sure everyone else trained or taxied it back. And that was that-- middle-aged schoolteachers getting drunk on a Monday night.
...And we'll be doing it again next month when we have our beginning of the school year party.
Yamada-sensei met me in a cab near my home station around 6-ish. We live in the same ward. We arrived to the ever-busy Nagoya Station shortly after. He refused my offer to pay half of cabfare, as always. Neither of us had ever been to the restaurant, which was on the 12th floor of one of the two Central Towers, in the same building as the Marriott Hotel. The place wasn't hard to find, and as expected, it was pretty jiggy. We had about 20 heads occupying a Japanese-style room, full with a large window with a great view westward over the bullet train tracks and neon lights of the countless shops behind Nagoya Station.
It's funny to see your co-workers at drinking parties, especially Japanese. They really go all out, as such parties are one of the few social experiences they have to really let their hair down. So they do it up big. People get loud and boisterous, and some get ambitious with their English. Fortunately for me, I'm in the good graces of the elementary crew, so people only expressed more niceness towards me as they got "nicer." More funny was the fact that the eldest people were drinking the most. The principal was smoking and ordering gin and tonics like mad, and the vice-prinicipal's face was tomato-red within a half-hour from the first round of drinks. He'd invited his nephew-in-law, Nick Benwell. They had us sit next to one another, I suppose for language support. In true Brit-fashion, Nick was knocking back his fair share. I stuck with the standard tap brew, which I could barely sip the head off of before the assistant vice-principal refilled my mug--typical Japanese drinking etiquette. Even the old staff lady who serves school lunch everyday was hammering then back. Meanwhile, I was trying to get my belly fully with a bunch of food that totaled up to a bunch of teasy appetizers moreso than a full meal. At first, there was sashimi, or raw fish--salmon, tuna, shrimp, squid, etc. with soy sauce and wasabi. Tasty but not filling. They had nabe-style soup cooking on the tables, but I didn't mess with it because of all the piggie swimming around in it. They brought out some little broiled chicken wings with lemon wedges, which I put a small dent in. After that, there was tenpura--lightly batter-fried veggies and jumbo shrimp served with soy sauce. Again, yummy but not sticking to a bro's ribs. Then there was udon, thick wheat noodles served with soy sauce. Then they brought out the crab legs and heads, not served with soy sauce. The only thing we didn't have was rice. Then it dawned on me,
Q:"Why is rice never served at drinking parties?" Afterall, rice is served with most Japanese meals.
A: Because they don't want the rice soaking up all that alcohol everybody's chugging back. No rice = you drink more and get drunk faster = mo' yen for the restaurants. Ah-ha! Sherlock Homeboy cracks another one.
At one point, the principal had me and Nick drinking hot sake out of crab heads--full with crab brains floating around in it, which I found out that spilt out of the eyeball sockets if the shell was tilted the wrong way. That was pretty decadent stuff, and I only drank it as not to be rude. Finally, they served some little green tea-flavored ice cream balls with strawberries. I surprised at how much food was left over, because I know that stuff wasn't cheap. We ended the festivity with the assistant vice-principal, well-inebriated, giving some closing thank you's and good job's and then we all stood and made one big clap with our hands, and gave some sort of cheer. After that we bowed, said our goodbyes, then went home. And all this before 9pm.
As I hadn't drunken much, I left, not tipsy even. The other heads were pretty smacked though. I know Yamada-san took the bus home. I'm sure everyone else trained or taxied it back. And that was that-- middle-aged schoolteachers getting drunk on a Monday night.
...And we'll be doing it again next month when we have our beginning of the school year party.
Mar 21, 2004
LAST BUT NOT LEAST
I woke up about an hour late this morning, because I'd mis-set my alarm clock. Doh. And when I set it correctly, the doggone thing had the nerve to go off. On top of that, it was pouring outside. I ended up getting to school about 40 minutes late, and my pants were pretty wet from having to ride my bike uphill while holding my umbrella. Nobody seemed to mind or even notice I was late. I wasn't late for my class, so it was all good.
I taught my last class of the school year today. I had both classes of 1st graders together, which was about 60 students. We played Simon Says, and the kids were pretty good at it. Those little'uns catch on quick. At one point in the game, I was calling out all the instructions in English without gesturing and some of the kids were nailing them every time, without flaw. After Simon Says we played a game where, Mr. Potatohead-style, the kids had to assemble large paper faces on the chalkboard. One student from each team was blindfolded, I called out a part of the face, like "left ear," for instance, then their teammates told them where to put the parts using the words "up, right, left," and "down." It was pretty funny to watch because some kids intentionally made mistakes and told their teammates to put the pieces in the wrong places. The rest of the class was rolling on the floor in laughter. It was pretty wild.
At 3rd period, I met the same two classes of 1st graders in the school gym. The homeroom teacher had me sit in a chair in front of all the students, and they presented me with a handmade kite with a hand-drawn portait of me on it, rather more like a huge brown stick man. Unfortunately, we couldn't test it out because of the rain. About half of the students stood up and gave little personalized speeches thanking me for teaching them for the past year. I understood about 90% of everthing they said. One girl said that my Japanese had gotten really good over the past year. I just shook my head in denial. Other kids said that they wanted me to come back and that they've come to like English via my classes. Pretty mature and heart-warming stuff for 6-year olds.
After that, we played Dodgebee, a version of dodgeball, except with a soft vinyl frisbee instead of a ball. I played once on each team, out of fairness. I think I got beaned twice. Lotta fun. At the end, the teachers had the students line up in a Soul Train-style double line, and I went down the center and shook everyone's hand before saying goodbye for the school year. I'm looking forward to seeing them again next month.
Tonight, we have our year-end teacher's party at some restaurant in JR Central Towers at Nagoya Station. Looking forward to the grub.
I taught my last class of the school year today. I had both classes of 1st graders together, which was about 60 students. We played Simon Says, and the kids were pretty good at it. Those little'uns catch on quick. At one point in the game, I was calling out all the instructions in English without gesturing and some of the kids were nailing them every time, without flaw. After Simon Says we played a game where, Mr. Potatohead-style, the kids had to assemble large paper faces on the chalkboard. One student from each team was blindfolded, I called out a part of the face, like "left ear," for instance, then their teammates told them where to put the parts using the words "up, right, left," and "down." It was pretty funny to watch because some kids intentionally made mistakes and told their teammates to put the pieces in the wrong places. The rest of the class was rolling on the floor in laughter. It was pretty wild.
At 3rd period, I met the same two classes of 1st graders in the school gym. The homeroom teacher had me sit in a chair in front of all the students, and they presented me with a handmade kite with a hand-drawn portait of me on it, rather more like a huge brown stick man. Unfortunately, we couldn't test it out because of the rain. About half of the students stood up and gave little personalized speeches thanking me for teaching them for the past year. I understood about 90% of everthing they said. One girl said that my Japanese had gotten really good over the past year. I just shook my head in denial. Other kids said that they wanted me to come back and that they've come to like English via my classes. Pretty mature and heart-warming stuff for 6-year olds.
After that, we played Dodgebee, a version of dodgeball, except with a soft vinyl frisbee instead of a ball. I played once on each team, out of fairness. I think I got beaned twice. Lotta fun. At the end, the teachers had the students line up in a Soul Train-style double line, and I went down the center and shook everyone's hand before saying goodbye for the school year. I'm looking forward to seeing them again next month.
Tonight, we have our year-end teacher's party at some restaurant in JR Central Towers at Nagoya Station. Looking forward to the grub.
Mar 20, 2004
2 YEARS DEEP
Today marked exactly 2 years since I came to Japan for the first time. The time really flew by. The past two years have been quite an experience. I've learned a lot of interesting and surprising things about Japanese culture, and Asian culture, in general. I've been rendered illiterate and learned to read and speak all over again in a second language. I've experienced fear, love, mutual understanding, ignorance, simplicity, frustration, popularity, notoriety, anger, happiness, loneliness, and camaraderie. I've been shocked, bored, enticed, repulsed, denied, embraced, disrespected, and honored. Living in Japan has been a very character-challenging experience. Moreover, it's not greatened my pride in America, as it has my appreciation for the relative freedoms we enjoy as Americans.
Yesterday was also the first official day of spring, so hopefully we'll have some nicer temperatures coming our way. Word on the street is that cherry blossom season starts in just a few days for this region of Japan. If so, that means the flowers are blooming much earlier than last year. Actually, I was surprised to hear that, considering it's still pretty nippy weather-wise--I can still see my breath when I go into the bathroom at school. Looking forward to viewing those gorgeous flowers once again.
Yesterday was also the first official day of spring, so hopefully we'll have some nicer temperatures coming our way. Word on the street is that cherry blossom season starts in just a few days for this region of Japan. If so, that means the flowers are blooming much earlier than last year. Actually, I was surprised to hear that, considering it's still pretty nippy weather-wise--I can still see my breath when I go into the bathroom at school. Looking forward to viewing those gorgeous flowers once again.
'NITIATE MA FACE
It still amazes me how many Brazilians are in Japan. Tonight at class, 7 Brazilian capoeristas from other groups came to our class. Five guys and a couple of chicks. I think Z may have known most of them, as he's pretty well-known in the Capoeira world in Japan. Z's the highest ranking ABADA instructor in Japan, and everyone knows ABADA Capoeira.
I guess maybe some of the Japanese kids in our class may have been a little intimidated because the Brasilieros all looked pretty strong. Z started our roda about a half-hour earlier than usual, most likely to accomodate our guests. In the roda, most of the visitors seemed pretty skilled. Some of them played the berimbau and led some songs, some of which I hadn't heard before. One really short girl was amazing; she was flipping and doing inverted moves on her head like crazy. The overall play was good, although it seemed a little competitive as everytime a member from our group would enter the roda, one of the visitors would jump in, and vice versa. I played several times. I played against one of the visiting guys, and got kicked in the face after doing a kick and coming up with my guard down. I wasn't kicked too hard, so I wasn't hurt, and rolled out of it into another move. Seconds later, the guy I was playing jumped out and a big, tall Brazilian chick jumped in. I played with her until someone from my group relieved me. Z played a bunch and represented his skills all over our visitors, as well as some of our group members. He's the man, without question.
I'm still young in the game, so getting kicked in the face was a good lesson in defense. The roda is the school of hard knocks. Though, there were no grudges or hard feelings after the roda. What happens in the roda,remains in the roda--such is the nature of Capoeira. At the end of the roda, I shook the hand of the guy who kicked me. Good play.
I guess maybe some of the Japanese kids in our class may have been a little intimidated because the Brasilieros all looked pretty strong. Z started our roda about a half-hour earlier than usual, most likely to accomodate our guests. In the roda, most of the visitors seemed pretty skilled. Some of them played the berimbau and led some songs, some of which I hadn't heard before. One really short girl was amazing; she was flipping and doing inverted moves on her head like crazy. The overall play was good, although it seemed a little competitive as everytime a member from our group would enter the roda, one of the visitors would jump in, and vice versa. I played several times. I played against one of the visiting guys, and got kicked in the face after doing a kick and coming up with my guard down. I wasn't kicked too hard, so I wasn't hurt, and rolled out of it into another move. Seconds later, the guy I was playing jumped out and a big, tall Brazilian chick jumped in. I played with her until someone from my group relieved me. Z played a bunch and represented his skills all over our visitors, as well as some of our group members. He's the man, without question.
I'm still young in the game, so getting kicked in the face was a good lesson in defense. The roda is the school of hard knocks. Though, there were no grudges or hard feelings after the roda. What happens in the roda,remains in the roda--such is the nature of Capoeira. At the end of the roda, I shook the hand of the guy who kicked me. Good play.
Mar 19, 2004
CURRY CRAZY
I've been eating curry rice about 2 months now, and haven't gotten sick of it yet. I'm already on my fourth 2 kg bag of rice, and have been cooking curry an average of 2-3 times a week. I can't get enough the stuff.
Red bell peppers were on sale for 100 yen the other day so I bought one, and added that to my curry for the first time. Curry with fresh bell pepper tastes great! I stopped putting apples in my curry--I think I overrated that flavor a little bit. I've got my cooking technique down to a science, and now I'm making chunky Power Curry, which consists of carrots, potatoes, mushrooms, white onions, and red bell pepper. Scrumptious.
Out of respect for the value of a dollar, I don't buy fruit or produce unless the price is relatively cheap. I just got a bag of 6 medium-large Aomori prefecture green apples that just dropped below 400 yen (about $4 US). I hadn't had bell pepper in months because they were about 158 yen (about $1.50) each. I just got some cold cereal for the first time this year. Frosted Flakes, Cocoa Krispies and Cocoa Chex were on sale for about 300 yen per box, although the Japanese sizes are about only 75% the size of the US boxes. I went crazy and bought 3, and some Rabu (J. pronunciation of "Love") brand milk. Mmm. Cold cereal with Love. This country could use some Fruit Loops, though.
Red bell peppers were on sale for 100 yen the other day so I bought one, and added that to my curry for the first time. Curry with fresh bell pepper tastes great! I stopped putting apples in my curry--I think I overrated that flavor a little bit. I've got my cooking technique down to a science, and now I'm making chunky Power Curry, which consists of carrots, potatoes, mushrooms, white onions, and red bell pepper. Scrumptious.
Out of respect for the value of a dollar, I don't buy fruit or produce unless the price is relatively cheap. I just got a bag of 6 medium-large Aomori prefecture green apples that just dropped below 400 yen (about $4 US). I hadn't had bell pepper in months because they were about 158 yen (about $1.50) each. I just got some cold cereal for the first time this year. Frosted Flakes, Cocoa Krispies and Cocoa Chex were on sale for about 300 yen per box, although the Japanese sizes are about only 75% the size of the US boxes. I went crazy and bought 3, and some Rabu (J. pronunciation of "Love") brand milk. Mmm. Cold cereal with Love. This country could use some Fruit Loops, though.
THE GRADUATES, pt. 2
I attended graduation at my elementary school, my second graduation in two weeks. Like the JHS ceremony, it was held in the school gymnasium, which doubles as the auditorium in most Japanese schools. Unlike the JHS graduation, I knew I was going ahead of time, so I came dressed for the occasion. Not unlike JHS's ceremony, the teachers were dressed formally--the male teachers wore black suits with white shirts and ties, and the women wore black dresses--no kimonos this time. The principal wore the formal suit with the huge coattail that made him look like a circus master--all that was missing was the tophat. Also unlike the JHS ceremony, they seated me in the front of the teacher's section, right behind the principal. The graduates all came out in procession. As elementary students don't wear uniforms, the grads all wore their own gear--preppy-looking outfits resembling typical Japanese JHS and high school uniforms. When they came out, it was like watching a mini-kids fashion show. Even though everyone looked kinda uniform, they all had their individual styles going, which I thought was cool.
I like Japanese graduations because they aren't too long; they sing the national anthem, say some opening words, present the graduates, and start slinging diplomas right away. Overall, the ceremony went as I'd expected: a lot of bowing, digital video cams, tear-dabbing from parents, and so on. The end of the ceremony was pretty emotional. The 4th and 5th graders sang a sayonara song to the grads and that just got the tears rolling from the moms and dads. Besides the parents' wet faces, some of the graduate girls were just sobbing as they marched out of the gym. Kawamura-sensei, one of the graduating 6th grade classes' homeroom teacher, a woman, couldn't hold her tears either. Pretty touching stuff.
Afterwards, the grads and their parents went back to their homerooms to spend some final moments with their homeroom teachers. I and some of the other teachers returned to the staffroom to break until the graduate parade began. The vice-principal invited me to join the parents and grads upstairs at the classrooms. We went up quietly just to observe, but I soon caught attention, and Fujiyama-sensei, the other 6th grade teacher, a man, called me into the classroom. He presented me to the parents, and told them how much their kids liked me and what a good job I'd done teaching them during the school year. I was really glad he thought enough of me to honor me in such a way. He asked me to say some final words to the students. I gladly offered some thoughts to the grads in Japanese and English, congratulating them and encouraging them to do well in junior high. All of the kids will be entering the JHS I currently teach at, so I'll be teaching them again in the new school year. I shook the hands of all the students and, upon request, signed their yellow caps that they had to wear to school everyday. Soon after, everyone wanted to take pictures with me, including some of the parents. A couple of giggling moms ushered their kids to the side so they could take a picture with me alone. That tickled me. Somebody's mom pulled me to the side and began gushing about how her son really liked me, although he couldn't attend the grad ceremony for some reason. Perhaps he was ill. I didn't understand all of her Japanese, but the gist of what she said seemed pretty positive, so I politely bowed and thanked her.
Soon after, the graduation parade began. All the kids and teachers lined up on both walls of the hallways leading to the gym. Some pairs of kids held up wire arches with paper flowers twined around them for the grads to walk through. Led by the homeroom teachers, the grads and parents came down the hallway to the flashes of cameras and the applause of the entire school. Kawamura-sensei was in tears again, so I stepped out and gave her a half-hug and pat as she walked by. The hug made her cry even more. Apparently, one of the other teachers thought that was a Kodak--or should I say "Fujitsu" moment and took a snapshot. The parade ended in the gym again, where I posed for more pics, along with the principal, signed more hats and shook hands.
I was glad to be able to attend the graduations of my students at both schools and be a part of a day that'll forever be imprinted upon their memories. In such a xenophobic culture, hopefully my involvement in the education of hundreds of Japanese children will positively effect some of them in a way that, as they become adults, their way of looking at the world, race, and culture will broaden, allowing them to gain more understanding, and somehow, someway forge a better world than the one we're living in today. I suppose time will tell.
I like Japanese graduations because they aren't too long; they sing the national anthem, say some opening words, present the graduates, and start slinging diplomas right away. Overall, the ceremony went as I'd expected: a lot of bowing, digital video cams, tear-dabbing from parents, and so on. The end of the ceremony was pretty emotional. The 4th and 5th graders sang a sayonara song to the grads and that just got the tears rolling from the moms and dads. Besides the parents' wet faces, some of the graduate girls were just sobbing as they marched out of the gym. Kawamura-sensei, one of the graduating 6th grade classes' homeroom teacher, a woman, couldn't hold her tears either. Pretty touching stuff.
Afterwards, the grads and their parents went back to their homerooms to spend some final moments with their homeroom teachers. I and some of the other teachers returned to the staffroom to break until the graduate parade began. The vice-principal invited me to join the parents and grads upstairs at the classrooms. We went up quietly just to observe, but I soon caught attention, and Fujiyama-sensei, the other 6th grade teacher, a man, called me into the classroom. He presented me to the parents, and told them how much their kids liked me and what a good job I'd done teaching them during the school year. I was really glad he thought enough of me to honor me in such a way. He asked me to say some final words to the students. I gladly offered some thoughts to the grads in Japanese and English, congratulating them and encouraging them to do well in junior high. All of the kids will be entering the JHS I currently teach at, so I'll be teaching them again in the new school year. I shook the hands of all the students and, upon request, signed their yellow caps that they had to wear to school everyday. Soon after, everyone wanted to take pictures with me, including some of the parents. A couple of giggling moms ushered their kids to the side so they could take a picture with me alone. That tickled me. Somebody's mom pulled me to the side and began gushing about how her son really liked me, although he couldn't attend the grad ceremony for some reason. Perhaps he was ill. I didn't understand all of her Japanese, but the gist of what she said seemed pretty positive, so I politely bowed and thanked her.
Soon after, the graduation parade began. All the kids and teachers lined up on both walls of the hallways leading to the gym. Some pairs of kids held up wire arches with paper flowers twined around them for the grads to walk through. Led by the homeroom teachers, the grads and parents came down the hallway to the flashes of cameras and the applause of the entire school. Kawamura-sensei was in tears again, so I stepped out and gave her a half-hug and pat as she walked by. The hug made her cry even more. Apparently, one of the other teachers thought that was a Kodak--or should I say "Fujitsu" moment and took a snapshot. The parade ended in the gym again, where I posed for more pics, along with the principal, signed more hats and shook hands.
I was glad to be able to attend the graduations of my students at both schools and be a part of a day that'll forever be imprinted upon their memories. In such a xenophobic culture, hopefully my involvement in the education of hundreds of Japanese children will positively effect some of them in a way that, as they become adults, their way of looking at the world, race, and culture will broaden, allowing them to gain more understanding, and somehow, someway forge a better world than the one we're living in today. I suppose time will tell.
Mar 16, 2004
POWER TO THE FOREIGN PEOPLE
So, I followed through on my "threat," and printed and distributed copies of my company's evaluation form, along with a memo to my fellow teachers in Tokai, at our monthly meeting yesterday at the city hall. See, they didn't realize I'm from a HBCU, where you gotta fight for anything you deserve.
A lot of teachers were totally unaware of the shady evaluations and even the fact that their salaries had been penalized because of them. Our own schools didn't know the evaluations they completed affected the foreign teachers' salaries. Shade. My roommate, Aaron, supported my stance, even though he got offered the full raise amount. Richard raised some hell at the meeting too about the salary issue, which totally exposed our company's shade in the presence of the board of education official who always attends our meetings. Our company tried to act like the board of ed. was in on the evaluations, but when the baord official heard our complaints, he said he knew nothing about the evaluations. Ah ha! Busted.
The staffgirl who always attends our meetings looked like she was about to wet her panties when we started getting riled up about the issue. She was really embarrassed we were discussing company politics in front of their client, and tried to divert the matter by telling us to save the complaints about the evaluations for the company office. Us teachers were like, "Been there, done that. So now what's up?" See, that's what happens when you lie to your employees! Once everybody acknowledged the heart of the issue, folks had a lot to say. I said my piece and sat back and watched the fallout. I was shocked to find out that Glenda, a teacher from the Phillipines, was only offered 60% of the maximum raise. Glenda is really sweet and her school loves her to death, so I couldn't possibly fathom why she would have any complaints. It gotta be a C-O-N spiracy.
After the meeting, I got a call from our foreign personnel supervisor, Tomas. Tomas is from Hungary and looks like a semi-pro football player. He's an okay guy but talks quickly, and sometimes very brash, overbearing, almost bully-like even. Although he's a teacher too, I suspect my company hired him as "muscle" to keep the other teachers "in line." On the phone, he came at me shovelling the same old rhetoric, trying to talk me down to get me to submit to and accept the new contract and wack pay raise. I wasn't having it. I broke it down, and told him how it is, how it was, and what it's gonna be like. Ya dig?--Basically, I kicked undisputable facts plus I told him I'd written a memo to the company that gave a review of the meeting I had with my JHS teachers, pleading my case against the wack evaluation I'd received from them, and against the evaluation itself. After I said there wasn't much he could say, but arrange to meet with me to review my memo the next day at the company office.
We met the next day, and to my surprise, Tomas's tune had totally changed. His talk was conciliatory and cooperative, and I was basically offered a new contract with 100% of the raise before I even pulled out a copy of the memo I'd written. Additionally, he informed me that the evaluation forms would no longer be used by the company, and that a new, better one would be drafted. I wasn't sure what had caused the change of heart, but I wasn't gullible enough to believe it was out of goodwill for me. I figured people had been complaining, maybe even threatening to quit. I was even considering jumping ship if they didn't act right. In the end, I signed a new contract with fair pay with no hassle.
Tomas and I talked a bit about other work issues, and I learned something that gave me some perspective on the depth of racism in Japan: some companies don't want to hire "Asian-looking" foreigners as English teachers, simply because some people hold the belief that people of Asian descent can't speak English as well as other ethnic groups. Such is the case even for those Asian-looking people who speak perfect native English. Some schools want only those foreigner teachers who look convincingly different from Japanese people. Wow. That's deep. This made me think of Glenda.
The whole re-signing ordeal reminded me of one thing: Resistance and pressure in the face of injustice does work--on all scales of life, too. However, if working people don't unite and stand up for themselves, they'll forever be taken advantage of by the greed of companies. Especially living in Japan, where non-Japanese have marginal rights, us foreigners, basically, have to come at these companies like "Stop playing and PAY ME!"
A lot of teachers were totally unaware of the shady evaluations and even the fact that their salaries had been penalized because of them. Our own schools didn't know the evaluations they completed affected the foreign teachers' salaries. Shade. My roommate, Aaron, supported my stance, even though he got offered the full raise amount. Richard raised some hell at the meeting too about the salary issue, which totally exposed our company's shade in the presence of the board of education official who always attends our meetings. Our company tried to act like the board of ed. was in on the evaluations, but when the baord official heard our complaints, he said he knew nothing about the evaluations. Ah ha! Busted.
The staffgirl who always attends our meetings looked like she was about to wet her panties when we started getting riled up about the issue. She was really embarrassed we were discussing company politics in front of their client, and tried to divert the matter by telling us to save the complaints about the evaluations for the company office. Us teachers were like, "Been there, done that. So now what's up?" See, that's what happens when you lie to your employees! Once everybody acknowledged the heart of the issue, folks had a lot to say. I said my piece and sat back and watched the fallout. I was shocked to find out that Glenda, a teacher from the Phillipines, was only offered 60% of the maximum raise. Glenda is really sweet and her school loves her to death, so I couldn't possibly fathom why she would have any complaints. It gotta be a C-O-N spiracy.
After the meeting, I got a call from our foreign personnel supervisor, Tomas. Tomas is from Hungary and looks like a semi-pro football player. He's an okay guy but talks quickly, and sometimes very brash, overbearing, almost bully-like even. Although he's a teacher too, I suspect my company hired him as "muscle" to keep the other teachers "in line." On the phone, he came at me shovelling the same old rhetoric, trying to talk me down to get me to submit to and accept the new contract and wack pay raise. I wasn't having it. I broke it down, and told him how it is, how it was, and what it's gonna be like. Ya dig?--Basically, I kicked undisputable facts plus I told him I'd written a memo to the company that gave a review of the meeting I had with my JHS teachers, pleading my case against the wack evaluation I'd received from them, and against the evaluation itself. After I said there wasn't much he could say, but arrange to meet with me to review my memo the next day at the company office.
We met the next day, and to my surprise, Tomas's tune had totally changed. His talk was conciliatory and cooperative, and I was basically offered a new contract with 100% of the raise before I even pulled out a copy of the memo I'd written. Additionally, he informed me that the evaluation forms would no longer be used by the company, and that a new, better one would be drafted. I wasn't sure what had caused the change of heart, but I wasn't gullible enough to believe it was out of goodwill for me. I figured people had been complaining, maybe even threatening to quit. I was even considering jumping ship if they didn't act right. In the end, I signed a new contract with fair pay with no hassle.
Tomas and I talked a bit about other work issues, and I learned something that gave me some perspective on the depth of racism in Japan: some companies don't want to hire "Asian-looking" foreigners as English teachers, simply because some people hold the belief that people of Asian descent can't speak English as well as other ethnic groups. Such is the case even for those Asian-looking people who speak perfect native English. Some schools want only those foreigner teachers who look convincingly different from Japanese people. Wow. That's deep. This made me think of Glenda.
The whole re-signing ordeal reminded me of one thing: Resistance and pressure in the face of injustice does work--on all scales of life, too. However, if working people don't unite and stand up for themselves, they'll forever be taken advantage of by the greed of companies. Especially living in Japan, where non-Japanese have marginal rights, us foreigners, basically, have to come at these companies like "Stop playing and PAY ME!"
Mar 14, 2004
WHITE DAY
Some commercially ambitious individual decided that the Western holiday of St. Valentine's Day should not only be celebrated in Japan, but celebrated twice. Thus, White Day.
In Japan, March 14th marks the converse holiday of February 14th. The days are separated by gender: whereas women buy men chocolates and gifts for St. Valentine's Day, men return the favor by treating the women on White Day. For some reason, the Japanese regard the opposing color of Red to be White, as opposed to being the opposite of Black, so I guess that has something to do with it.
My girl blessed me with a new space heater and some Godiva chocolates for "Red Day," so I figured I'd blow some cash on some chocolate for her. I'm not even into that sorta thing either--just trying to be a sweet guy. Anyway, I'd been distracted by so much this past week I'd forgotten to pick some candy up. We'd already planned to see each other today, so my plan was to get up early and run to Nagoya Station and pick some up. I didn't end up leaving the house 'til after noon, which was okay, but by that time there was peak shopping traffic at the shops. Droves upon droves of people running around doing regular shopping, plus all the guys, such as myself who were looking for last-minute White Day stuff. I couldn't walk ten paces without having to dodge or stop in my tracks for somebody--which quickly reminded me why I don't like shopping. Especially in Japan.
Everytime I go shopping at Nagoya Station, it boggles my mind how much over-priced crap can be crammed into one place. Just to find the Godiva shop, I had to go the information desk on the ground level of Takashimaya department store, which is kind of the Japanese equivalent of Marshall Field's back home. Ususally, in major service and retail stores, the information staffpeople are trained to speak English, so I always speak English when asking for information, kinda to keep them on their toes. The information lady spoke English pretty well, although I could tell she was nervous and she asked me to repeat myself a couple times. She sent me on a what I believed was a wild goose hunt through a multi-leveled labyrinth of crowds and super-expensive crap. It's extremely hard to get specific directions in this country. Driving is the worst, but in a store, the best you can get is the floor number, that's it. From there you're own your own. It took about a half-hour of searching, before I finally found the tiny Godiva "stand" that was hard to spot amidst all the other counters and mini-retail markets all over the mall. The smallest box they had was like $30! I was like, "Is this all you have?" The stand girl told me there was another Godiva counter close by which had a bigger selection. I found the other stand within 5 minutes, and was looking at their selection which was also super-pricey. I broke down and said "I'll take the little 1,500 yen box, please." Sold out. Doh. "Okay, I'll take the tiny 2,000 yen box then." Sold out. Doh. "What do you have?" I asked. It turned out not much--afterall it was already White Day!
I ended up buying a set of individual chocolates, which they put in a box and wrapped for me. I ended up spending over US $10 for six little pieces of chocolate. Doh!
Actually, I don't think my girl would have minded if I hadn't bought her those chocolates, but when .Anyway, when she got them, she seemed happy, so I was happy, and that was that.
White Day. It's a Japanese thang. I still don't understand.
In Japan, March 14th marks the converse holiday of February 14th. The days are separated by gender: whereas women buy men chocolates and gifts for St. Valentine's Day, men return the favor by treating the women on White Day. For some reason, the Japanese regard the opposing color of Red to be White, as opposed to being the opposite of Black, so I guess that has something to do with it.
My girl blessed me with a new space heater and some Godiva chocolates for "Red Day," so I figured I'd blow some cash on some chocolate for her. I'm not even into that sorta thing either--just trying to be a sweet guy. Anyway, I'd been distracted by so much this past week I'd forgotten to pick some candy up. We'd already planned to see each other today, so my plan was to get up early and run to Nagoya Station and pick some up. I didn't end up leaving the house 'til after noon, which was okay, but by that time there was peak shopping traffic at the shops. Droves upon droves of people running around doing regular shopping, plus all the guys, such as myself who were looking for last-minute White Day stuff. I couldn't walk ten paces without having to dodge or stop in my tracks for somebody--which quickly reminded me why I don't like shopping. Especially in Japan.
Everytime I go shopping at Nagoya Station, it boggles my mind how much over-priced crap can be crammed into one place. Just to find the Godiva shop, I had to go the information desk on the ground level of Takashimaya department store, which is kind of the Japanese equivalent of Marshall Field's back home. Ususally, in major service and retail stores, the information staffpeople are trained to speak English, so I always speak English when asking for information, kinda to keep them on their toes. The information lady spoke English pretty well, although I could tell she was nervous and she asked me to repeat myself a couple times. She sent me on a what I believed was a wild goose hunt through a multi-leveled labyrinth of crowds and super-expensive crap. It's extremely hard to get specific directions in this country. Driving is the worst, but in a store, the best you can get is the floor number, that's it. From there you're own your own. It took about a half-hour of searching, before I finally found the tiny Godiva "stand" that was hard to spot amidst all the other counters and mini-retail markets all over the mall. The smallest box they had was like $30! I was like, "Is this all you have?" The stand girl told me there was another Godiva counter close by which had a bigger selection. I found the other stand within 5 minutes, and was looking at their selection which was also super-pricey. I broke down and said "I'll take the little 1,500 yen box, please." Sold out. Doh. "Okay, I'll take the tiny 2,000 yen box then." Sold out. Doh. "What do you have?" I asked. It turned out not much--afterall it was already White Day!
I ended up buying a set of individual chocolates, which they put in a box and wrapped for me. I ended up spending over US $10 for six little pieces of chocolate. Doh!
Actually, I don't think my girl would have minded if I hadn't bought her those chocolates, but when .Anyway, when she got them, she seemed happy, so I was happy, and that was that.
White Day. It's a Japanese thang. I still don't understand.
Mar 12, 2004
NICK BENWELL
I felt much better today. At school, everybody kept asking if I was okay and whatnot. I was a little surprised at the level of concern. They must have thought I was dying yesterday. Or maybe that's typical Japanese politeness to ask about someone's health after they've taken ill. Then again, it could've been a combination of both?
As soon as I got to school, before I could even make it into the staffroom to get my jacket off, the vice-principal grabbed and told me there was a visiting teacher from England that he wanted me to meet. I was like "O Kay," thinking "Who the heck is here from England?" Right after, the principal came and escorted me into his office. Sitting on the couch was a tall, young lanky white "bloke" whom I'd never seen before. We introduced ourselves. "How d'ya do? I'm Nick."
Nick Benwell. It turned out he was the vice-principal's nephew-in-law. What a surprise that was. How 'bout that--the vice-principal was kin to a real live foreigner. Nick was also an elementary school assistant English teacher who'd been teaching 3 years in Kariya, a city a bit farther south from where I worked. He worked for another staffing company in Nagoya that was in the assistant language instruction business. He gave me his business card. Man. My company didn't give us business cards. I need to look into that. Nick told me that he was one of only 2 elementary school teachers in his town to service the 15 area schools. So, he taught at 8 of them. Dang. He said he did a rotation where he taught at each school about an average of once a month. His spring break had already started, and since he had nothing to do, the vice-principal asked him to come to our school to meet and greet some students. He said that was a family request, so he couldn't say no.
Today was also my last day of classes of the school year with the 2nd-graders. 2nd period, I had class 2-1, my favorite class. We had a fun class--the homeroom teacher asked me to play Simon Says with the kids. They love that game, and couldn't get enough of it. At the end of class, the kids thanked me for teaching them this school year. They lined up and came to me one by one, delivering their short thank-you speeches. I was surprised at the sincerity and heartfeltness the kids expressed. A few of the girls broke down when saying goodbye; one girl, Misato, started tearing up in the middle of her speech, then ran out of the room so I wouldn't see her tears. Mami, broke down about 5 seconds into speaking, and just kept rubbing her eyes and sniffing until she finished her words. Pretty heart-warming stuff. I just patted them on the back and told them thank you. I'd told them beforehand that I would be back in April, but I guess the finality of the last class of the school year was a little overwhelming for them. We'd had such a good time all year.
After lunch, the 3rd-graders of class 3-1 invited me to their classroom to give me their "presents." I arrived, and like the 2nd-graders, they were all lined up and ready to say their thank yous. I stood at the head of class and each one came to me and presented me their handmade thank-you cards. Each one had personalized drawings and decorations, most of them had a nicely misspelled "Thak You" written on them. I was pleased by the show of love.
One of the teachers invited me to the end of the year teacher's party in two weeks. Food and drink at some restaurant in Nagoya. I said I'd definitely be there.
As soon as I got to school, before I could even make it into the staffroom to get my jacket off, the vice-principal grabbed and told me there was a visiting teacher from England that he wanted me to meet. I was like "O Kay," thinking "Who the heck is here from England?" Right after, the principal came and escorted me into his office. Sitting on the couch was a tall, young lanky white "bloke" whom I'd never seen before. We introduced ourselves. "How d'ya do? I'm Nick."
Nick Benwell. It turned out he was the vice-principal's nephew-in-law. What a surprise that was. How 'bout that--the vice-principal was kin to a real live foreigner. Nick was also an elementary school assistant English teacher who'd been teaching 3 years in Kariya, a city a bit farther south from where I worked. He worked for another staffing company in Nagoya that was in the assistant language instruction business. He gave me his business card. Man. My company didn't give us business cards. I need to look into that. Nick told me that he was one of only 2 elementary school teachers in his town to service the 15 area schools. So, he taught at 8 of them. Dang. He said he did a rotation where he taught at each school about an average of once a month. His spring break had already started, and since he had nothing to do, the vice-principal asked him to come to our school to meet and greet some students. He said that was a family request, so he couldn't say no.
Today was also my last day of classes of the school year with the 2nd-graders. 2nd period, I had class 2-1, my favorite class. We had a fun class--the homeroom teacher asked me to play Simon Says with the kids. They love that game, and couldn't get enough of it. At the end of class, the kids thanked me for teaching them this school year. They lined up and came to me one by one, delivering their short thank-you speeches. I was surprised at the sincerity and heartfeltness the kids expressed. A few of the girls broke down when saying goodbye; one girl, Misato, started tearing up in the middle of her speech, then ran out of the room so I wouldn't see her tears. Mami, broke down about 5 seconds into speaking, and just kept rubbing her eyes and sniffing until she finished her words. Pretty heart-warming stuff. I just patted them on the back and told them thank you. I'd told them beforehand that I would be back in April, but I guess the finality of the last class of the school year was a little overwhelming for them. We'd had such a good time all year.
After lunch, the 3rd-graders of class 3-1 invited me to their classroom to give me their "presents." I arrived, and like the 2nd-graders, they were all lined up and ready to say their thank yous. I stood at the head of class and each one came to me and presented me their handmade thank-you cards. Each one had personalized drawings and decorations, most of them had a nicely misspelled "Thak You" written on them. I was pleased by the show of love.
One of the teachers invited me to the end of the year teacher's party in two weeks. Food and drink at some restaurant in Nagoya. I said I'd definitely be there.
Mar 11, 2004
YUCKY STUFF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ ABOUT b/w THAT'S BOGUS!
I know other people's bodily functions aren't the most popular topics of interest, but I'm gonna go head and take a stab at it anyway, because health is a very crucial part of living abroad...(can't say I didn't warn you though!)
I woke up this morning not feeling quite right. I had a slight pain in my gut, so I went to the toilet to "move som'thin'," I sat down and...
SPLOOSH!
..nothing but liquid and other assorted prizes. It seemed as if soup had been cooking throughout my stomach throughout the night and was ready to be served. After I was done, I took my morning shower, but my stomach was still bubbling. I had to go again. Because of that I caught a little bit later train than usual, but I still got to school at my usual time.
As soon as I walked in, I had to go again. Nothing but sploosh. My stomach was bubbling a little less, but I didn't feel comfortable at all, and actually almost felt like hurling when I stood up too long. I had to teach the 3rd-graders their last two classes of the school year, and I'd told Yamada-sensei that I didn't feel very well.
Why "SPLOOSH?"
(Well, last night I went to Richard's to hang out. His girl was there and ended up cooking dinner: Chinese-style stir-fry chicken and veggies with white rice. The meal was alright, though it was greasy, kinda bland, and the chicken chunks seemed like they could've been cooked a bit longer. I hadn't eaten since then, when I'd woken up this morning, so I knew it was the greasy stir-fry that wrecked my stomach. Actually, there's a chicken flu going around in Japan--I was just reading the other day how they killed like 265,000 chickens at some Japanese farm.)
Oh, God. I hope I don't have any bird flu. ..mmm, I don't think it's bird flu though.
So, I manned-up and taught my two classes anyway. By the second class, everyone had heard that I was feeling sick. I felt useless, and felt like I was going to spew, but I tried to stay perked for the kids, though I had to squat and sit down a couple times during class to rest. At the end of the class, the students all gave me handwritten letters thanking me for teaching them the past school year. Each one individually came up to me, thanked me, and shook my hand. At the end, I made some final words in Japanese and English. I don't know WHY, but I suddenly felt like I was gonna cry. That's totally unlike me to get weepy over sentimental mush, but the feeling VERY briefly swept over me. I guess, it had something to do with the fact that I was feeling weak and vulnerable with pain in my stomach, combined with the tenderness of the little kids, and plus I was feeling kinda bad because I wasn't 100% me for their last class..and..
(Self): "Man, what the heck is wrong with you?! Don't tell me you're gonna go teary in front of a bunch of 8-year-olds--your whole rep is at stake. Man up!"
Like I said, the feeling came over me briefly. I finished class on a very dry note (eyes, that is) then retreated back to the staffroom to bury my head in my desk.
I'd been to the john about 4 times already, and it wasn't yet noon. I still felt pretty bad, and to top it off, I had a meeting at my junior high school scheduled for the afternoon. Once the elementary crew saw I was debilitated, they kept running up to me asking if I was okay. I told them my stomach hurt a little bit, and I just wanted to put my head down for a while. Asano-sensei, my coordinator, one of the assistant principals, went into Mother Hen-mode and began clamoring about making phone calls to my company telling them to cancel my meeting and that the school was going to send me home early. I almost felt like I was one of the kids and not a teacher. Meanwhile, I was sitting over on the staffroom couch with my head on the table. The school nurse came over with a big jar of brown pills trying to get me to take some. I kinda looked at her skeptically and told her I don't really take medicine. I didn't even know what the pills were for goodness' sake. She pulled out her bilingual electronic dictionary, punched some keys and seconds later showed me the display--it read "gastrointestinal." I asked her were their herbs in them. She said yes. She told me to take them with my lunch. I didn't agree. She ended up putting a few in a plastic bag for me and labelled the bag with marker.
Lunch soon came and I was so sick, You know a brotha's hurt when he skips a meal, and I'm not one to skip meals. I just pretty much rested back at my desk. Folks left me alone for a while, but they started wondering why I hadn't gone home yet. I raised my head and told them "I'm not going home. I have an important meeting this afternoon." I guess they were a little surprised and someone said "Ganbarimasu," meaning that I was "persevering" through the pain. I called my company and had them "un-cancel" my meeting. And that was that.
What was so important about the meeting?
It's approaching the end of the school year and also the end of my 1-year contract. My company sent evaluation forms to every school to assess the performance of the teachers for the school year. The evaluation was used to determine how much of a raise we get for the following year. I was surprised when my company offered me only 80% of the measly maximum possible raise amount. I didn't sign my new contract offer because I wanted to look into the negative evaluation made against me. When I inquired about it, I learned that, while my elementary school raved about me, I received less than stellar reviews from one/some? of the junior high personnel. However, a limited number of teachers at each school contributed to the evaluation who weren't neccessarily our designated coordinator, and my company refused to reveal which teachers completed the evaluations. In addition, the company wouldn't allow us to see the evaluation forms they used. I asked my company to set up a meeting with my JHS in order to get to the core of the negative aspects of my evaluation. Thus, the afternoon meeting.
At first, I felt dissed by the JHS teachers for my negative evaluation, until, after a lot of arm-twisting of my company, I was sent a copy of the evaluation form that was used. First off, the evaluation, which was scripted by my company, and translated badly into English, was biased as hell. It didn't focus on anything positive about my (our) teaching or contributions throughout the school year. Of the form's 10 questions, only about 5 related directly to teaching performance, for which they could circle a grade A-F. The others were too personal in nature or non-objective to be assessed fairly by another individual in any capacity. It seemed as if the company designed the evaluation to serve as a means to penalize our salaries. Typical Big-English-style corporate shade. And here I was thinking my co. was better than that.
After 4p, I rode over to JHS and met with the school's three English teachers, plus one of the female staffers from my company who was there to act as a liaison. We went over each question, examining what the teachers had to say directly about me for each one. Of course, every story has at least 2 sides, but their side was pretty bogus. I was really surprised and disappointed to hear some of the bogus things they had to say, for instance:
In regards to "communication skill to students:"
One teacher said he didn't think I communicated enough with the students. (This is in spite of the fact, that I talk to my students personally in the classroom, in the hallways, and at lunch time.) He said I should play after-school sports with the kids. I told him I don't have a problem with that, although no teacher ever extended an invitation to Amen-sensei about any afterschool programs. He suggested I join with the basketball club. I told him I don't play basketball. This is the same school that wouldn't allow me to join any of the student games on Sports Day, when I gave up my Saturday to be there, in anticipation of getting to join the students in games. THAT'S BOGUS.
In regards to "Does the teacher follow school rules or morality?"
One teacher in particular said I'm a "bad influence" on students at lunchtime because I drink orange juice instead the school standard milk. (This is in spite of the fact that at the beginning of the school year, I told my company and the school that I don't eat red meat or drink milk, and my coordinator said it was okay for me to bring my own my beverages, my own lunch, even. Apparently, they didn't get the memo.) They went on to say, that if I continue to drink juice at lunch, they'd considering disallowing me to eat lunch together with my students! Since when is drinking fruit juice a bad influence on kids? Plus, wouldn't isolating me from the students at lunch reduce my communication time with them? THAT'S BOGUS.
In regards to "Do they [the students] learn English effectively? (acquisition of English skill):
Is this even a fair question? NO. It's not. How can an assistant language teacher be judged for the language skill level of an entire school of pre-adolescents? Some of the students hate school to begin with, not to metnion English, so they have no skills in any subjects. This is a very non-objective question. My company messed that question up big-time. But I received a low grade for it. BOGUS.
For instance. And the bogusness continued...
Towards the end of the meeting, I told the teachers that there were things that I enjoyed about teaching with all of them, and asked them did they have any positive things to say about me. They all kind of sat there silently, then finally one teacher said "We'll tell you later." What? Y'ALL BOGUS!
When all is said and done, I realize now more than ever that JHS is a cold world for foreign English teachers. On one hand they isolate you on the outer rim of the school's universe of affairs, but then they want you to be Super Foreigner, Satisfier of All's Desires. Please. Other teachers in my company have had similar experiences. This week, I've lost a lot of respect for my company, and honestly, I don't even know how I should feel about this whole situation, other than pissed-off. I don't even know if JHS wants me back, or if I want to even be back there in April. I'd be cool with elementary only, really. I have another meeting with my company folk next week. I know one thing: I've never been one to sell myself out or bow in the face of injustice. So most likely, there'll be more drama to come.
I woke up this morning not feeling quite right. I had a slight pain in my gut, so I went to the toilet to "move som'thin'," I sat down and...
SPLOOSH!
..nothing but liquid and other assorted prizes. It seemed as if soup had been cooking throughout my stomach throughout the night and was ready to be served. After I was done, I took my morning shower, but my stomach was still bubbling. I had to go again. Because of that I caught a little bit later train than usual, but I still got to school at my usual time.
As soon as I walked in, I had to go again. Nothing but sploosh. My stomach was bubbling a little less, but I didn't feel comfortable at all, and actually almost felt like hurling when I stood up too long. I had to teach the 3rd-graders their last two classes of the school year, and I'd told Yamada-sensei that I didn't feel very well.
Why "SPLOOSH?"
(Well, last night I went to Richard's to hang out. His girl was there and ended up cooking dinner: Chinese-style stir-fry chicken and veggies with white rice. The meal was alright, though it was greasy, kinda bland, and the chicken chunks seemed like they could've been cooked a bit longer. I hadn't eaten since then, when I'd woken up this morning, so I knew it was the greasy stir-fry that wrecked my stomach. Actually, there's a chicken flu going around in Japan--I was just reading the other day how they killed like 265,000 chickens at some Japanese farm.)
Oh, God. I hope I don't have any bird flu. ..mmm, I don't think it's bird flu though.
So, I manned-up and taught my two classes anyway. By the second class, everyone had heard that I was feeling sick. I felt useless, and felt like I was going to spew, but I tried to stay perked for the kids, though I had to squat and sit down a couple times during class to rest. At the end of the class, the students all gave me handwritten letters thanking me for teaching them the past school year. Each one individually came up to me, thanked me, and shook my hand. At the end, I made some final words in Japanese and English. I don't know WHY, but I suddenly felt like I was gonna cry. That's totally unlike me to get weepy over sentimental mush, but the feeling VERY briefly swept over me. I guess, it had something to do with the fact that I was feeling weak and vulnerable with pain in my stomach, combined with the tenderness of the little kids, and plus I was feeling kinda bad because I wasn't 100% me for their last class..and..
(Self): "Man, what the heck is wrong with you?! Don't tell me you're gonna go teary in front of a bunch of 8-year-olds--your whole rep is at stake. Man up!"
Like I said, the feeling came over me briefly. I finished class on a very dry note (eyes, that is) then retreated back to the staffroom to bury my head in my desk.
I'd been to the john about 4 times already, and it wasn't yet noon. I still felt pretty bad, and to top it off, I had a meeting at my junior high school scheduled for the afternoon. Once the elementary crew saw I was debilitated, they kept running up to me asking if I was okay. I told them my stomach hurt a little bit, and I just wanted to put my head down for a while. Asano-sensei, my coordinator, one of the assistant principals, went into Mother Hen-mode and began clamoring about making phone calls to my company telling them to cancel my meeting and that the school was going to send me home early. I almost felt like I was one of the kids and not a teacher. Meanwhile, I was sitting over on the staffroom couch with my head on the table. The school nurse came over with a big jar of brown pills trying to get me to take some. I kinda looked at her skeptically and told her I don't really take medicine. I didn't even know what the pills were for goodness' sake. She pulled out her bilingual electronic dictionary, punched some keys and seconds later showed me the display--it read "gastrointestinal." I asked her were their herbs in them. She said yes. She told me to take them with my lunch. I didn't agree. She ended up putting a few in a plastic bag for me and labelled the bag with marker.
Lunch soon came and I was so sick, You know a brotha's hurt when he skips a meal, and I'm not one to skip meals. I just pretty much rested back at my desk. Folks left me alone for a while, but they started wondering why I hadn't gone home yet. I raised my head and told them "I'm not going home. I have an important meeting this afternoon." I guess they were a little surprised and someone said "Ganbarimasu," meaning that I was "persevering" through the pain. I called my company and had them "un-cancel" my meeting. And that was that.
What was so important about the meeting?
It's approaching the end of the school year and also the end of my 1-year contract. My company sent evaluation forms to every school to assess the performance of the teachers for the school year. The evaluation was used to determine how much of a raise we get for the following year. I was surprised when my company offered me only 80% of the measly maximum possible raise amount. I didn't sign my new contract offer because I wanted to look into the negative evaluation made against me. When I inquired about it, I learned that, while my elementary school raved about me, I received less than stellar reviews from one/some? of the junior high personnel. However, a limited number of teachers at each school contributed to the evaluation who weren't neccessarily our designated coordinator, and my company refused to reveal which teachers completed the evaluations. In addition, the company wouldn't allow us to see the evaluation forms they used. I asked my company to set up a meeting with my JHS in order to get to the core of the negative aspects of my evaluation. Thus, the afternoon meeting.
At first, I felt dissed by the JHS teachers for my negative evaluation, until, after a lot of arm-twisting of my company, I was sent a copy of the evaluation form that was used. First off, the evaluation, which was scripted by my company, and translated badly into English, was biased as hell. It didn't focus on anything positive about my (our) teaching or contributions throughout the school year. Of the form's 10 questions, only about 5 related directly to teaching performance, for which they could circle a grade A-F. The others were too personal in nature or non-objective to be assessed fairly by another individual in any capacity. It seemed as if the company designed the evaluation to serve as a means to penalize our salaries. Typical Big-English-style corporate shade. And here I was thinking my co. was better than that.
After 4p, I rode over to JHS and met with the school's three English teachers, plus one of the female staffers from my company who was there to act as a liaison. We went over each question, examining what the teachers had to say directly about me for each one. Of course, every story has at least 2 sides, but their side was pretty bogus. I was really surprised and disappointed to hear some of the bogus things they had to say, for instance:
In regards to "communication skill to students:"
One teacher said he didn't think I communicated enough with the students. (This is in spite of the fact, that I talk to my students personally in the classroom, in the hallways, and at lunch time.) He said I should play after-school sports with the kids. I told him I don't have a problem with that, although no teacher ever extended an invitation to Amen-sensei about any afterschool programs. He suggested I join with the basketball club. I told him I don't play basketball. This is the same school that wouldn't allow me to join any of the student games on Sports Day, when I gave up my Saturday to be there, in anticipation of getting to join the students in games. THAT'S BOGUS.
In regards to "Does the teacher follow school rules or morality?"
One teacher in particular said I'm a "bad influence" on students at lunchtime because I drink orange juice instead the school standard milk. (This is in spite of the fact that at the beginning of the school year, I told my company and the school that I don't eat red meat or drink milk, and my coordinator said it was okay for me to bring my own my beverages, my own lunch, even. Apparently, they didn't get the memo.) They went on to say, that if I continue to drink juice at lunch, they'd considering disallowing me to eat lunch together with my students! Since when is drinking fruit juice a bad influence on kids? Plus, wouldn't isolating me from the students at lunch reduce my communication time with them? THAT'S BOGUS.
In regards to "Do they [the students] learn English effectively? (acquisition of English skill):
Is this even a fair question? NO. It's not. How can an assistant language teacher be judged for the language skill level of an entire school of pre-adolescents? Some of the students hate school to begin with, not to metnion English, so they have no skills in any subjects. This is a very non-objective question. My company messed that question up big-time. But I received a low grade for it. BOGUS.
For instance. And the bogusness continued...
Towards the end of the meeting, I told the teachers that there were things that I enjoyed about teaching with all of them, and asked them did they have any positive things to say about me. They all kind of sat there silently, then finally one teacher said "We'll tell you later." What? Y'ALL BOGUS!
When all is said and done, I realize now more than ever that JHS is a cold world for foreign English teachers. On one hand they isolate you on the outer rim of the school's universe of affairs, but then they want you to be Super Foreigner, Satisfier of All's Desires. Please. Other teachers in my company have had similar experiences. This week, I've lost a lot of respect for my company, and honestly, I don't even know how I should feel about this whole situation, other than pissed-off. I don't even know if JHS wants me back, or if I want to even be back there in April. I'd be cool with elementary only, really. I have another meeting with my company folk next week. I know one thing: I've never been one to sell myself out or bow in the face of injustice. So most likely, there'll be more drama to come.
Mar 9, 2004
THE GRADUATES, pt. 1
This morning I went to my junior high school's graduation ceremony. Actually, I didn't know I would be going, because this week I'm teaching at elementary school, with classes scheduled for this morning. However, when I arrived at school, the principal asked me if I was going to the junior high graduation. I was like "I can't. I have classes." So he jumped on the case and arranged for my classes to be re-scheduled for the afternoon, so I could attend the graduation. He also was going, so that was pretty cool of him. I'd never attended a Japanese graduation, so I'd been looking forward to the event all school year.
About a half-hour after I learned I could go, I jumped back on my bike and took the 5-minute ride over to the junior high school. Unfortunately, I didn't have the proper attire for the occasion, since I didn't know I would be going. When I got to junior high, I greeted the principals and apologized for being under-dressed. They said it was quite alright and thanked me for coming.
All teachers and students attended the ceremony in the newly-built gym. The parents, mostly moms, were seated separately according to whether they were parents of girls, or boys. The parents wore normal dress attire, although the graduates wore the same uniforms that they wear everyday, except with flowers tucked in their breast pockets. But the jiggiest of all were the teachers: they were decked out in super-formal attire. The principal looked like the father of the bride in his coat-tailed suit, white silk tie and pinstripe pants. When the homeroom teachers of the graduating classes led out their students, it almost looked like a fashion show; in co-ed pairs, the male teachers walked out laced in swanky suits typical of the likes of groomsmen, while the women teachers all came out in elegant kimonos with matching hair accessories.
The ceremony started with the bowing to the national flag, and the singing of the national anthem, which sounded pretty melancholy, like something you'd hear after the final death scene in a samurai flick. After about another hour and 10 minutes of a lot of diploma-passing, short speeches, singing, a lot more bowing, and some muffled tears, the homeroom teachers led their graduates out of the gym in a mini-procession.
About a half-hour after the ceremony, the graduates and their parents marched out in front of the gym in a "Sayonara Parade." While the school band played on the front steps of the gymnasium, the 1st and 2nd year students and teachers lined up on both sides of the newly-paved school gym entrance road and saw the the grads off, as they said goodbye for one last time. Luckliy, the weather today was sunny and reasonably cool, so we could stand outside without freezing to death. Most students were smiling as they strode alongside their parents, taking snapshots along the way, though a handful of girls were dabbing away tears with their signature hankie-towels, a common accessory of most Japanese schoolgirls.
After the mini-parade, the graduates and family re-assembled on the school's massive sandlot for photos. At that point, it seemed like the teachers became the stars of the show, as students presented them, male and female alike, bouquets of flowers, assorted gifts and cards. Most of the students were trying to pose for pictures with their teachers and get them to sign their yearbooks. I went out on the lot to congratulate the students one last time and say my sayonara's. I didn't receive any gifts, though I was surprised how many girls and boys wanted to pose for pictures with me. I just went out to shake everyone's hand, but people were running up to me and calling me left and right to take pictures. Some of the moms spoke to me and thanked me, as well as the students. A couple boys had me sign their yearbooks. It felt good to be acknowledged and appreciated by parents and students, especially considering I hadn't been officially invited to the graduation to begin with.
Afterwards, the teachers all returned to the school staffroom for lunch. They'd ordered some pricey bento boxes, specially prepared lunches with assorted seafood (including raw fish), veggies, rice, fruit, and a dessert, packaged and delivered in boxed trays. Good stuff.
After lunch, I returned to elementary school to teach my afternoon classes. I had the 5th-graders for their final class, including my most problematic class, 5-2. In general, I get along with all my elementary students pretty well, however, in 5-2, there was a small clique of girls who'd decided at some point early in the school year that they hated me, the cause, still a mystery to me to this day. I'd worked all year to use kindness and natural cool-ness to break up the coup, which was led by a couple of mouthy little girls. I could see that some of the girls really liked me deep down, but to keep face in front of their peers, they had to maintain their front of disdain for Amen-sensei. I learned this year that winning back the hearts of kids is a very difficult task. Fortunately, 97% of my students dug me.
With the element of hate still present amongst 5-2, I was surprised at the end of class, when everyone thanked me for a year of teaching them English. On top of that, they all gave me hand-written thank-you letters. I'm sure the homeroom teacher, Mr. Kanie had probably forced some of them to do it, including one little girl who rudely threw her letter at me, but it felt good to walk out of the last class with a stack of appreciation letters nonetheless.
I can accept some feigned love with the real. For now.
About a half-hour after I learned I could go, I jumped back on my bike and took the 5-minute ride over to the junior high school. Unfortunately, I didn't have the proper attire for the occasion, since I didn't know I would be going. When I got to junior high, I greeted the principals and apologized for being under-dressed. They said it was quite alright and thanked me for coming.
All teachers and students attended the ceremony in the newly-built gym. The parents, mostly moms, were seated separately according to whether they were parents of girls, or boys. The parents wore normal dress attire, although the graduates wore the same uniforms that they wear everyday, except with flowers tucked in their breast pockets. But the jiggiest of all were the teachers: they were decked out in super-formal attire. The principal looked like the father of the bride in his coat-tailed suit, white silk tie and pinstripe pants. When the homeroom teachers of the graduating classes led out their students, it almost looked like a fashion show; in co-ed pairs, the male teachers walked out laced in swanky suits typical of the likes of groomsmen, while the women teachers all came out in elegant kimonos with matching hair accessories.
The ceremony started with the bowing to the national flag, and the singing of the national anthem, which sounded pretty melancholy, like something you'd hear after the final death scene in a samurai flick. After about another hour and 10 minutes of a lot of diploma-passing, short speeches, singing, a lot more bowing, and some muffled tears, the homeroom teachers led their graduates out of the gym in a mini-procession.
About a half-hour after the ceremony, the graduates and their parents marched out in front of the gym in a "Sayonara Parade." While the school band played on the front steps of the gymnasium, the 1st and 2nd year students and teachers lined up on both sides of the newly-paved school gym entrance road and saw the the grads off, as they said goodbye for one last time. Luckliy, the weather today was sunny and reasonably cool, so we could stand outside without freezing to death. Most students were smiling as they strode alongside their parents, taking snapshots along the way, though a handful of girls were dabbing away tears with their signature hankie-towels, a common accessory of most Japanese schoolgirls.
After the mini-parade, the graduates and family re-assembled on the school's massive sandlot for photos. At that point, it seemed like the teachers became the stars of the show, as students presented them, male and female alike, bouquets of flowers, assorted gifts and cards. Most of the students were trying to pose for pictures with their teachers and get them to sign their yearbooks. I went out on the lot to congratulate the students one last time and say my sayonara's. I didn't receive any gifts, though I was surprised how many girls and boys wanted to pose for pictures with me. I just went out to shake everyone's hand, but people were running up to me and calling me left and right to take pictures. Some of the moms spoke to me and thanked me, as well as the students. A couple boys had me sign their yearbooks. It felt good to be acknowledged and appreciated by parents and students, especially considering I hadn't been officially invited to the graduation to begin with.
Afterwards, the teachers all returned to the school staffroom for lunch. They'd ordered some pricey bento boxes, specially prepared lunches with assorted seafood (including raw fish), veggies, rice, fruit, and a dessert, packaged and delivered in boxed trays. Good stuff.
After lunch, I returned to elementary school to teach my afternoon classes. I had the 5th-graders for their final class, including my most problematic class, 5-2. In general, I get along with all my elementary students pretty well, however, in 5-2, there was a small clique of girls who'd decided at some point early in the school year that they hated me, the cause, still a mystery to me to this day. I'd worked all year to use kindness and natural cool-ness to break up the coup, which was led by a couple of mouthy little girls. I could see that some of the girls really liked me deep down, but to keep face in front of their peers, they had to maintain their front of disdain for Amen-sensei. I learned this year that winning back the hearts of kids is a very difficult task. Fortunately, 97% of my students dug me.
With the element of hate still present amongst 5-2, I was surprised at the end of class, when everyone thanked me for a year of teaching them English. On top of that, they all gave me hand-written thank-you letters. I'm sure the homeroom teacher, Mr. Kanie had probably forced some of them to do it, including one little girl who rudely threw her letter at me, but it felt good to walk out of the last class with a stack of appreciation letters nonetheless.
I can accept some feigned love with the real. For now.
Mar 7, 2004
LIVE @ THE PLASTIC FACTORY
I was actually on time for practice this Saturday, for the first time in eons. We had a really good workout; we did a lot of line and pair exercises. Afterwards, we had our usual roda. One big, young brawny Brazilian kid in our group did a wild jump spinkick and caught one of the Japanese guys right in the eye. I mean, he walked right into it--SMACK! The Japanese guy kinda just collapsed to the floor. Z immediately stopped the roda and had some guys take him out of the circle and lay him on his back to recover. He was conscious and didn't seem seriously hurt, so we continued the roda. Everyone knew the Brazilian kid, a newer member, was in the wrong, although the Japanese guy, a more senior member should have had his guard up. Z didn't seem happy about it, but he didn't get angry or yell at anyone--at the end, he simply said to exercise more control of our bodies and movements in the roda. After practice, the Brazilian kid didn't really seem penitent nor apologetic; actually, he was laughing it off, calling himself an "animal." Please. Dude's not even that good yet, and with that kind of an attitude, he definitely has some hurt in his future.
After practice, we were scheduled to do a group demonstration at a club near downtown, called the Plastic Factory. But first, we headed out to dinner at what's becoming our usual spot, the Spaghetti Factory. Z seems to really like the place. The food is decent, although it's best selling point is that it serves unlimited complimentary hardbread and paper-thin cheese pizza, making it the only restaurant I've been to in Japan where I've gotten anything for free besides water.
At the restaurant, about 15 of us occupied 3 tables. Again, we seemed to unconsciously segregate ourselves, as the Japanese folks had two tables, while us foreigners occupied one. Interestingly enough, Carlos, a Japanese-Brazilian guy who'd come from out of town to work out with us, could speak English and Portugese, so our table was able to converse without using Japanese; Carlos translated for both the English-speaking and Portugese-speaking sides of the table, so we were able to "privatize" our convo. I don't know how the Japanese heads felt about that, though.
After dinner, we headed off to the Plastic Factory, arriving around 11:30-ish. Since we were performing guests, all of us got in admission-free. We weren't scheduled to perform until 1a, so we all got to chill for a while. There weren't many people in the club, and the capoeira heads made up about half the attendance. There were a good number of foreigners who were customers and who were staff. It was my first time to the club, and I dug the space, although the music wasn't my particular flavor, as they played mainly trance and techno mixes. I met one bro from Haiti named Bert. He was a graphic design student at one of the nearby Nagoya city universities. I asked him about the turmoil over Aristide going on in Haiti; he told me that his parents were there, but that they were okay.
Before 1a, we'd changed back into our capoeira uniforms and began stretching to prepare for the demo. At first there was some concern about potential injury, because some irregularities were spotted on the surface of the wooden dancefloor we were supposed to perform on. Z ended up going over the floor with a flashlight and hammer, banging in any nails that were jutting out.
When performance time came, the deejay stopped the records and Z lead the roda with the berimbau. He started a song and then the play began. Everyone looked pretty good on the floor and kept the play pretty and clean with minimal body contact. The crowd really got into it, and was cheering at points. I played once, but the dancefloor space wasn't very wide and I almost banged my foot on the bar after doing a carthwheel. After about 10 minutes, Z ended the roda, but someone kept yelling "Encore," so we started back up, and played once again. After the second round, the Brazilian girl in our group jumped in the middle and started doing the samba. She grabbed a couple other Brazilian girls who happened to be in the crowd. Then there were 3 girls dancing in the middle, which was a pleasant sight for the guys, to say the least. Soon after, some of the Brazilian guys in our group jumped in. They were grooving, and I wanted to jump in, but didn't because I haven't officially learned the samba yet, and didn't want to make an ass of myself. I'm definitely gonna learn though.
After the performance, we changed back into our civilian dress and blended back in with the clubgoers. Most of us chilled for a little while before going home. I was thirsty and had just gotten a glass of water from the bar, when one of the Brazilian girls fainted right in front of me. I slapped her lightly on the cheeks, then sprinkled some water on her to try to get her to come to. Seconds after, the Brazilian guys were all over it, helping the girl onto a couch and making sure she was okay. I suppose she'd had too much too drink. Usual club stuff I guess.
After practice, we were scheduled to do a group demonstration at a club near downtown, called the Plastic Factory. But first, we headed out to dinner at what's becoming our usual spot, the Spaghetti Factory. Z seems to really like the place. The food is decent, although it's best selling point is that it serves unlimited complimentary hardbread and paper-thin cheese pizza, making it the only restaurant I've been to in Japan where I've gotten anything for free besides water.
At the restaurant, about 15 of us occupied 3 tables. Again, we seemed to unconsciously segregate ourselves, as the Japanese folks had two tables, while us foreigners occupied one. Interestingly enough, Carlos, a Japanese-Brazilian guy who'd come from out of town to work out with us, could speak English and Portugese, so our table was able to converse without using Japanese; Carlos translated for both the English-speaking and Portugese-speaking sides of the table, so we were able to "privatize" our convo. I don't know how the Japanese heads felt about that, though.
After dinner, we headed off to the Plastic Factory, arriving around 11:30-ish. Since we were performing guests, all of us got in admission-free. We weren't scheduled to perform until 1a, so we all got to chill for a while. There weren't many people in the club, and the capoeira heads made up about half the attendance. There were a good number of foreigners who were customers and who were staff. It was my first time to the club, and I dug the space, although the music wasn't my particular flavor, as they played mainly trance and techno mixes. I met one bro from Haiti named Bert. He was a graphic design student at one of the nearby Nagoya city universities. I asked him about the turmoil over Aristide going on in Haiti; he told me that his parents were there, but that they were okay.
Before 1a, we'd changed back into our capoeira uniforms and began stretching to prepare for the demo. At first there was some concern about potential injury, because some irregularities were spotted on the surface of the wooden dancefloor we were supposed to perform on. Z ended up going over the floor with a flashlight and hammer, banging in any nails that were jutting out.
When performance time came, the deejay stopped the records and Z lead the roda with the berimbau. He started a song and then the play began. Everyone looked pretty good on the floor and kept the play pretty and clean with minimal body contact. The crowd really got into it, and was cheering at points. I played once, but the dancefloor space wasn't very wide and I almost banged my foot on the bar after doing a carthwheel. After about 10 minutes, Z ended the roda, but someone kept yelling "Encore," so we started back up, and played once again. After the second round, the Brazilian girl in our group jumped in the middle and started doing the samba. She grabbed a couple other Brazilian girls who happened to be in the crowd. Then there were 3 girls dancing in the middle, which was a pleasant sight for the guys, to say the least. Soon after, some of the Brazilian guys in our group jumped in. They were grooving, and I wanted to jump in, but didn't because I haven't officially learned the samba yet, and didn't want to make an ass of myself. I'm definitely gonna learn though.
After the performance, we changed back into our civilian dress and blended back in with the clubgoers. Most of us chilled for a little while before going home. I was thirsty and had just gotten a glass of water from the bar, when one of the Brazilian girls fainted right in front of me. I slapped her lightly on the cheeks, then sprinkled some water on her to try to get her to come to. Seconds after, the Brazilian guys were all over it, helping the girl onto a couch and making sure she was okay. I suppose she'd had too much too drink. Usual club stuff I guess.
Mar 3, 2004
SHOCK VALUE
Ugh. Every month I'm reminded of how expensive the cost of living is in Japan, when the bills come. Utility costs in this country are simply ridiculous, considering the amount of living space and size of the appliances the average person uses. Our electric bill for February was over 14,000 yen--Good Lawd! And that's apart from rent, gas, water, cellphone, landline phone, and internet bills. And it's not like we're running a nightclub in our little apartment--a few lights in the evenings, a computer or two, and a couple of electric space heaters. Space heaters. They suck up power like vacuums; but since they're our only source of heat in the winter, they're an absolute necessity to keep from freezing at night. Spring will be here before long so the light bills should settle, hopefully!
Speaking of bills, I need to file my taxes..
Speaking of bills, I need to file my taxes..
Mar 2, 2004
SIMON SAYS SAYONARA
Today I had my last 2 classes with the 3rd year junior high school students (9th graders). This is their last week of school before they graduate next week. We played a funny game of Fruit Basket, and the people who lost 3 times had to do O shiri Moji, which translates as "Butt Letters." In this game, the losing student has to stand in front of the class and gesture the spelling of a word using the motion of their rear ends only. This is a popular game in Japanese schools, and I took full advantage of it; I made them spell their names, using Roman characters. It was hilarious.
At the end of both classes, the students all said "Arigato" to me for teaching them English for the past school year. That was nice. I offered some congratulatory words of encouragement in English. I had two classes with two different Japanese teachers, both young women. I suppose I could have expressed my sentiments in Japanese, but intentionally said my farewells to the students entirely in English to test the Japanese teachers, to see if they would translate for me or not--one did and one didn't:
In the second class, Takeuchi-sensei translated my little goodbye words, which I thought was considerate, considering the students probably didn't understand most of my words. But in the first class, the teacher, Okado-sensei, didn't. She stoodby and said nothing whie I spouted off to the class. I looked over at her in anticipation, and she just looked back with a half smile. Strange. See, Okado is the same age as me, though, I'm about a half-year or so older than her. This makes her the youngest teacher in our school, so I think she feels a lot of pressure to prove herself. She's usually very nice, but sometimes she cops little attitudes for various reasons. Since she didn't bother to translate my goodbyes, I suspect she was in a funky mood today. Whatever.
After lunch, I had to go over to my elementary school to teach a special class for the school's Parents Day. All the kids' parents came to school today to observe their kids' classes. About 95% of the parents were housewife moms, and I had to teach Class 2-1, which happens to be my favorite class of second graders. We did the Body lesson, which taught how to say the basic parts of the body in English. We played Simon Says, which was really fun. At first, they were making hella mistakes, but they caught on quickly after a couple rounds. They loved that game. During the class, like half the kids' moms and a couple of dads stood in the back of the classroom watching. When we played Simon Says, Gotoh-sensei, 2-1's homeroom teacher, told the parents to join in. At the end, we made a big circle to play the bodypart verion of Fruit Basket. The class was a success; the kids and their folks all looked happy, and seemed to have enjoyed the class.
After we ended class, Gotoh-sensei thanked me and the also the parents for participating. She told some of the moms how much their kids love me and that I was kakkoii, or "cool," and tried to encourage them to come introduce themselves and communicate with me; she also told them that it was okay for them to speak to me in Japanese--she said all of this while I stoodby quietly. With all that promotion on my behalf, none of the moms even made eye contact with me, and quietly made their way out of the exit door, only humbly bowing and thanking Gotoh-sensei as they ushered themselves out. Gotoh-sensei turned to me and said "Oh, they're shy." Hm. Really.
Now I understand the whole Japanese shyness thing, but "C'mon," I thought, "You just watched me teach the hell out of your kids and conduct an enjoyable class, and you can't even offer a brotha a bow of the head or a 'Konnichiwa'? What am I? Chopped sushi?" I wasn't annoyed, I just thought they were behaving a tad too shy, considering they'd just watch me amiably interact with their kids for 50 minutes. I guess I was "too intimidating" for the parents to say hello to. Please. Since I'd only had that one class to teach for Parents Day, I returned to the staffroom to get some green tea and sit at my desk to ponder the experience. Soon after, Gotoh-sensei came in the staffroom and thanked me again for a "really good class." She went on to explain that the moms and even a couple of the dads were very shy and a little intimidated to try to speak to me. She said that the parents told her afterwards that the class was great and they really enjoyed it, even as much as their own kids. When I heard that, I felt better about the situation. I thanked her for showing appreciation and explaining to me what the deal was. She's a cool lady--I like her.
Gotoh-sensei is an older lady, presumably in her very late 50s or early 60's. Relative to the average petite-figured Japanese woman, she's what we would describe as "big-boned," back home. She wears glasses and has very long hair which she dyes and usually wears parted in two big pigtails. She has adult children and grandchildren. Apparently, she's traveled quite a bit throughout her life, as she always tells me stories about her experiences in various foreign countries and her encounters with foreigners. In that regard, she's more exposed and, thus, maybe more hip than your typical Japanese person. I really like Gotoh-sensei because unlike some other teachers, she isn't afraid to engage and communicate with me, and honestly; she doesn't dumb down her Japanese or try to stumble her way through some quarter-assed quasi-English as some other teachers haplessly do. She recognizes that I'm making efforts to practice and improve my Japanese and that I can understand a lot more than some people give me credit for. She speaks to me straight, and even if I don't fully understand every word, I'm still able to comprehend the gist of what she has to say, and even learn something new as a result of it. We even talk about movies sometimes; we've had conversations about our opinions of the Matrix series and Lord of the Rings. Once, she lent me her Minority Report DVD, because i hadn't seen it. I mean, how many grandmas do you know who watch sci-fi flicks? Like I said--cool lady.
At the end of both classes, the students all said "Arigato" to me for teaching them English for the past school year. That was nice. I offered some congratulatory words of encouragement in English. I had two classes with two different Japanese teachers, both young women. I suppose I could have expressed my sentiments in Japanese, but intentionally said my farewells to the students entirely in English to test the Japanese teachers, to see if they would translate for me or not--one did and one didn't:
In the second class, Takeuchi-sensei translated my little goodbye words, which I thought was considerate, considering the students probably didn't understand most of my words. But in the first class, the teacher, Okado-sensei, didn't. She stoodby and said nothing whie I spouted off to the class. I looked over at her in anticipation, and she just looked back with a half smile. Strange. See, Okado is the same age as me, though, I'm about a half-year or so older than her. This makes her the youngest teacher in our school, so I think she feels a lot of pressure to prove herself. She's usually very nice, but sometimes she cops little attitudes for various reasons. Since she didn't bother to translate my goodbyes, I suspect she was in a funky mood today. Whatever.
After lunch, I had to go over to my elementary school to teach a special class for the school's Parents Day. All the kids' parents came to school today to observe their kids' classes. About 95% of the parents were housewife moms, and I had to teach Class 2-1, which happens to be my favorite class of second graders. We did the Body lesson, which taught how to say the basic parts of the body in English. We played Simon Says, which was really fun. At first, they were making hella mistakes, but they caught on quickly after a couple rounds. They loved that game. During the class, like half the kids' moms and a couple of dads stood in the back of the classroom watching. When we played Simon Says, Gotoh-sensei, 2-1's homeroom teacher, told the parents to join in. At the end, we made a big circle to play the bodypart verion of Fruit Basket. The class was a success; the kids and their folks all looked happy, and seemed to have enjoyed the class.
After we ended class, Gotoh-sensei thanked me and the also the parents for participating. She told some of the moms how much their kids love me and that I was kakkoii, or "cool," and tried to encourage them to come introduce themselves and communicate with me; she also told them that it was okay for them to speak to me in Japanese--she said all of this while I stoodby quietly. With all that promotion on my behalf, none of the moms even made eye contact with me, and quietly made their way out of the exit door, only humbly bowing and thanking Gotoh-sensei as they ushered themselves out. Gotoh-sensei turned to me and said "Oh, they're shy." Hm. Really.
Now I understand the whole Japanese shyness thing, but "C'mon," I thought, "You just watched me teach the hell out of your kids and conduct an enjoyable class, and you can't even offer a brotha a bow of the head or a 'Konnichiwa'? What am I? Chopped sushi?" I wasn't annoyed, I just thought they were behaving a tad too shy, considering they'd just watch me amiably interact with their kids for 50 minutes. I guess I was "too intimidating" for the parents to say hello to. Please. Since I'd only had that one class to teach for Parents Day, I returned to the staffroom to get some green tea and sit at my desk to ponder the experience. Soon after, Gotoh-sensei came in the staffroom and thanked me again for a "really good class." She went on to explain that the moms and even a couple of the dads were very shy and a little intimidated to try to speak to me. She said that the parents told her afterwards that the class was great and they really enjoyed it, even as much as their own kids. When I heard that, I felt better about the situation. I thanked her for showing appreciation and explaining to me what the deal was. She's a cool lady--I like her.
Gotoh-sensei is an older lady, presumably in her very late 50s or early 60's. Relative to the average petite-figured Japanese woman, she's what we would describe as "big-boned," back home. She wears glasses and has very long hair which she dyes and usually wears parted in two big pigtails. She has adult children and grandchildren. Apparently, she's traveled quite a bit throughout her life, as she always tells me stories about her experiences in various foreign countries and her encounters with foreigners. In that regard, she's more exposed and, thus, maybe more hip than your typical Japanese person. I really like Gotoh-sensei because unlike some other teachers, she isn't afraid to engage and communicate with me, and honestly; she doesn't dumb down her Japanese or try to stumble her way through some quarter-assed quasi-English as some other teachers haplessly do. She recognizes that I'm making efforts to practice and improve my Japanese and that I can understand a lot more than some people give me credit for. She speaks to me straight, and even if I don't fully understand every word, I'm still able to comprehend the gist of what she has to say, and even learn something new as a result of it. We even talk about movies sometimes; we've had conversations about our opinions of the Matrix series and Lord of the Rings. Once, she lent me her Minority Report DVD, because i hadn't seen it. I mean, how many grandmas do you know who watch sci-fi flicks? Like I said--cool lady.
Mar 1, 2004
PINEAPPLE KOOLAID
After letting DJ Black (Richard) listen to my album (Imhotep: The Metalyrical LP), he wanted to try to link me with some of his Japanese Hip-Hop associates. He wanted to take me to Pineapple Studios to meet the owner who goes by the name of Koolaid. Koolaid is a Japanese graf artist and graphic designer. He runs his own studio where he heads up his graphic design and graf business; he also rents out some of studio space to Japanese dance instructors, who teach classes there throughout the week. Richard told me that Koolaid periodically put on big Hip-Hop events, and had rapper friends who were interested in recording some material with American emcees. He said Koolaid's music friends sometimes hung out at the art studio, so he was hoping to maybe catch up with them that night. I was definitely down with the idea, although after past experiences, I remain skeptical of Japanese Hip-Hoppers, in general.
After work, Richard scooped me up and we rolled down to Pineapple. We pulled up in front of the studio, which looked like a large garage with a nice graf mural covering the entire front wall. We entered the front door to the blaring sound of rap music (American, of course). We stepped in and immediately to the left was a large curtain. We peeked behind the curtain to find a co-ed group of dance students stretching and warming up in front of a mirrored wall. Richard led me past the reception counter to the back, and into a smoky little lounge room, where 3 guys were sitting and smoking, watching a video on a small tv screen. I met Koolaid, a young-looking guy with a tattoo by his left eye, Jun, the manager of Pineapple Studios, and some other guy who was only visiting. None of Koolaid's rapping buddies were present. Richard did most of the talking; amongst other business, he told the guys about "my skills" and how they should give me a listen. They seemed receptive and invited us to an open mic event they're putting on on the 27th at a club called Lush. They said there would be a live band playing. I asked if there would be Japanese emcees only, and they said most likely. Hmm. I'm not crazy about the idea of being singled-out as the only English-speaking emcee in a Japanese event. I'm not trying to get overlooked and underacknowledged due to bias--afterall, it happened before at Club Radix. I dunno. We'll see.
Koolaid seemed like a pretty mellow guy. I got to check out his portfolio, which was pretty tight. He definitely has talent and skills. During our visit, he was working on some hand-inked t-shirts which he was selling for 10,000 yen (about $100 US) per shirt. Jeez. Koolaid, didn't look older than 29 years old, and it seemed like he was sho'nuff making a fair amount of cream. He'd traveled to the states on many occasions and had learned alot about American graffing and Hip-Hop, so he seemed to be up on the real culture. Seeing Koolaid in Pineapple Studio had me musing the idea of talented Black illustrators and graphic artists coming to Japan and making a killing. Though, I soon caught myself, remembering the instability of Japans ultra-transient trendy market.
After hanging out for awhile, we dipped, but not before Koolaid gave us each two packets of Grape and Tropical Koolaid. He had cases of Koolaid packages he'd brought back from the States sitting on the reception counter. He was passing them out like business cards or something. Cute.
...Well, now I suppose I should get a pitcher and some sugar.
After work, Richard scooped me up and we rolled down to Pineapple. We pulled up in front of the studio, which looked like a large garage with a nice graf mural covering the entire front wall. We entered the front door to the blaring sound of rap music (American, of course). We stepped in and immediately to the left was a large curtain. We peeked behind the curtain to find a co-ed group of dance students stretching and warming up in front of a mirrored wall. Richard led me past the reception counter to the back, and into a smoky little lounge room, where 3 guys were sitting and smoking, watching a video on a small tv screen. I met Koolaid, a young-looking guy with a tattoo by his left eye, Jun, the manager of Pineapple Studios, and some other guy who was only visiting. None of Koolaid's rapping buddies were present. Richard did most of the talking; amongst other business, he told the guys about "my skills" and how they should give me a listen. They seemed receptive and invited us to an open mic event they're putting on on the 27th at a club called Lush. They said there would be a live band playing. I asked if there would be Japanese emcees only, and they said most likely. Hmm. I'm not crazy about the idea of being singled-out as the only English-speaking emcee in a Japanese event. I'm not trying to get overlooked and underacknowledged due to bias--afterall, it happened before at Club Radix. I dunno. We'll see.
Koolaid seemed like a pretty mellow guy. I got to check out his portfolio, which was pretty tight. He definitely has talent and skills. During our visit, he was working on some hand-inked t-shirts which he was selling for 10,000 yen (about $100 US) per shirt. Jeez. Koolaid, didn't look older than 29 years old, and it seemed like he was sho'nuff making a fair amount of cream. He'd traveled to the states on many occasions and had learned alot about American graffing and Hip-Hop, so he seemed to be up on the real culture. Seeing Koolaid in Pineapple Studio had me musing the idea of talented Black illustrators and graphic artists coming to Japan and making a killing. Though, I soon caught myself, remembering the instability of Japans ultra-transient trendy market.
After hanging out for awhile, we dipped, but not before Koolaid gave us each two packets of Grape and Tropical Koolaid. He had cases of Koolaid packages he'd brought back from the States sitting on the reception counter. He was passing them out like business cards or something. Cute.
...Well, now I suppose I should get a pitcher and some sugar.
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