updatum

A while back I went to lunch with my shakaijin [community member] students. Kimio san [back row, middle, wearing sports coat] picked me up at school and we drove to a nearby hotel for a traditional Japanese lunch of tenpura, grilled fish, sashimi, rice, miso soup, fishy egg custard, salad and pickles. They were all amazed at my ability to use chopsticks, which is a common compliment to all foreigners at every gathering. I’ve come to see it as more of a conversation starter than a short-sighted comment underestimating the world’s knowledge of Asian culture. It was a great opportunity to interact with them outside of class, where they felt more comfortable asking personal questions and quizzing me about things which make them curious. In class I always have a theme to center the lesson around, so while they are inquisitive, I do try and keep them on topic. Otherwise it would digress into social hour as they are all gossip loving retirees. That is not a derogatory comment on their character but an observation about Japanese society, where gossip runs rampant and the fear of being talked about behind your back influences many daily decisions. Several people have told me that is one reason the divorce rate is so low, people are afraid they will be gossiped about. Also several of my students have told me they fear talking aloud in class because afterwards the other students will discuss their mistakes in a mean spirit. Really kind of sad. Yoko san [far left, red shirt, black cardigan] sent me this picture.



It’s the time of year for entrance and exit exams and graduation. I am truly sad to see a few of my san nen se [3rd year students; they only have 3 years of high school here] kids leave and I have only been instructing them for 6 months. I am sure the seasoned teachers will have a rough time at graduation. At Yoshikawa Koko, where I visit once a week, my 3rd year class asked the Japanese teacher if they could conduct class on the last day. We met in the gymnasium, which is huge, has no heat, and sliding doors that barely keep the wind out. Kaneko kun pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and began reading. I’m paraphrasing…”today we have planned to enjoy our last class with miss tiffany. Your class is always fun so we have made some games. We hope these games are fun too. Now for the opening speech.” On to another cute boy who explains, in rough, but well-researched, English that we will be playing some sort of game of tag where the oni [devil] chases everyone. We ran until everyone was exhausted and I was proud that I was able to hang with them. Then we returned to the classroom where I took a seat at a desk in the back. Sachi chan [whose English is really advanced, she helps me a lot when I need to address the kids in Japanese] and another student, whose name I can never remember, took to the podium to explain the next game. We circled up our chairs and 1 person stood in the middle. In English, they must call out an indentifying factor, ie ‘wearing white shirt’ or ‘lives in Kakizaki machi’, and everyone who that applies to must race to another chair. It was hilarious and ugly. We were all playfully fighting for chairs, falling over, picking on the Japanese teacher. One of the really quiet girls pushed one of the dorkier boys out of the way and stole his seat. He fell on the ground and she crossed her legs, gave him a smirk and flashed the peace sign at him. After that, Kaneko kun took the floor again, this time paperless. He began “miss tiffany you are very beautiful. We always like to come to your class. I like to see you smile and laugh.” As I am feigning embarrassment, the whole class is cracking up… “I want to buy you a ring” as he closes his eyes, searching for words. He runs over to the Japanese teacher, whispers and runs back over. He takes my hand, acting like he’s putting a ring on my finger. “miss tiffany, will you marry me?” I know I blushed. I did my best happy, about to cry, nervous act. He questioned if this was an ok way to ask. I demonstrated that in America, many men get on one knee. He takes a few running steps, slides on one knee up to my chair and asks again. It was so cute. I asked how old he was; "18" [in my mind, I am thinking ‘you’re attractive and that’s legal’ but I remained professional]. I explained that I was a grandma compared to him and apologized. He returned to his chair, moping, deflated. Then another of my favorite boys got up and read some more flattering stuff about how I made English fun and they always looked forward to class. It was truly heartworming; I wanted to cry. While each day in class I may not see the effects of my presence, it is so nice to know that I have made some sort of impact. When I hear them use colloquialisms in the hall, I feel a sense of accomplishment. Even if the only thing that came out of the semester was a tempering of their sense of fear of foreigners, then it was time well spent. For the kids to explicitly tell me I made a difference was great.