Category Archives: Japan

The National Holiday Work Day Blues

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Anything worth doing isn’t supposed to be easy, but I’m not sure if my making it difficult actually makes something worth doing.

Even though today is a national holiday here in Japan, I spent the bulk of the day working. If I do the work today, then I don’t have to do much work tomorrow. (Although, officially, I’ll totally be working hard.) Because the company I work for has decided to trap me at home during the days when I’m not assigned to the school where I work, I have to show some evidence of work tomorrow.

However, because I have other plans, I went ahead and did this week’s work in advance, sort of like someone preparing their meals for the week on Sunday so that all they have to do is unwrap and reheat for the next seven days.

The first part was easy: make a couple worksheets, make a badge graphic for a worksheet I won’t even need until almost a year from now and find a way to update the spreadsheets I’ve been using for over a decade and make the data they produce more robust and more easily accessible whilst making sure it’s usable on my tablet.

That’s where the difficulties began. My master plan was to create a system where I could simultaneously record speech scores and have the data linked to individual forms I could print and give the students. I also wanted to be able to change the formatting and fonts on a whim without having to change each individually.

A few hours later, I finally figured out the best way (thus far) to produce the forms for the students. There were a lot of web searches, a lot of experimentation and no small amount of swearing. In general, with things like this, I tend to learn as I go. I’ll struggle with one way of doing something and then finally figure out what I should have been doing.

Tomorrow, or the day after, I’ll sit down and probably figure out what I’ve been doing wrong. By then, though, I’ll have probably abandoned the project in favor of a different idea.

Fake it Till You Can Make Them Write It

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The worst thing you can hear when you’re about to take over a class for four weeks is “which class are you teaching?” from the person you were counting on to tell you which class you were teaching.

The worst answer you can give is “I don’t know”.

Since I’m now “off work” for a couple weeks, I agreed to pick up four weeks of Sunday classes with a program I’ve mentioned before. The trouble is I was given no information to help me prepare for the class. I didn’t know what class I’d be teaching, what level or what textbook I’d be using.

Eventually, after the other three teachers arrived, and through the process of elimination, we figured out what class I was teaching in time for me to prepare for it. That’s when my worries really started.

My predecessor had finished only four units out of book that has ten. A colleague teaching a different class in the same level was on unit seven. With four weeks left his status actually made a lot of sense. For me it means that I have to rush to finish as much of the textbook as I can.

This is the moment when the doubt hit. I doubted his notes; I doubted my ability to fill five hours of class with little prep; and I wondered how in the hell he managed to make “pages 11-18” (from his notes) last four hours. (In his defense, the listenings in this textbook seem to last several hours.)

Once I got in the class and established where the students were in the book (my predecessor’s notes were accurate) my “golden doorknob” skills (more on those in a future post) took over and I managed to create a plan that lasted five hours.

The trick, of course, is to assign work for the students: check your answers with your partner; make a short speech; make groups and write a two minute role play about death. (Something like that.)

For next week I’ll have time to plan. Because of that, I doubt the class will go very well.

 

 

 

 

Morning Speeches With a Side of Oddness

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For a minute it appeared as if most of my choices were going to be absent. Then one showed up and things got odd.

Part of our responsibilities at the school where I work is to assign, correct, chase down, listen to, choose, correct, cajole and threaten students during the speech contest phase of the year. For high school, we assign the speech topics at the end of the autumn term. Students, in theory, have the winter break to finish it. The first four classes in January and February are spent correcting mistakes and listening to students perform their speeches.

The trouble is, most students already know, more or less, who is going to go to the contest and who is going to win once they get there. (Kind of like me being forced to enter a slam dunk contest against Michael Jordan and Zach LaVine. Spoiler: I’m not going to win.)

Once the best two from each class are chosen, we then spend time 1) convincing the students that, yes, they actually must go and 2) chasing down copies of their speeches. This year, one of my students performed a speech that was good enough to win the class. He then refused to 1) give me a copy and 2) go to the contest. This means one of two things: he improvised or he cheated. In the end, he claimed the former but I suspect he was using someone else’s speech. Because he has a fairly passive homeroom teacher, he was able to argue his way out and someone else went in his place.

Then, today, my first two choices were absent from the contest. On the one hand I like this because it shortens the contest a bit, but it looks bad for me. Then, towards the end of the contest, the emcee made surprise announcement. “Mr. X is absent, but Mr. C has arrived and will give his speech instead.” My student walked up to the podium.

Students in the audience started yelling “fix,” “it’s rigged,” or “hacks”. (Not really. Most were not aware there were still speakers at the front.)

My student, was in jeans and a hoodie as if he’d been hanging out with his friends and suddenly remembered he had an appointment. He gave a good speech, and I suspect would have won if he’d been on time and been in uniform. Instead he didn’t place.

Now we’re done with speech contests until next year. We already know who will probably win, but maybe he’ll show up late and out of uniform.

1960-Something Pilot Capless Fountain Pen–Long Term Review

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I’m no longer sure how old this pen is.

When I was at the 17th Mitsukoshi Fountain Pen Festival I showed this pen to the clerk at the Pilot Pen area. A few seconds later a different lady grabbed the pen and passed it to the Pilot repair expert. The guy examined it and reported to the different lady. A minute later my fountain pen was two years younger than I thought it was. It’s either two years older than I am, or it’s the same age as I am.

Either way, I like this pen a lot and it’s made me rethink the style of nib I like.

The 19543/66 Pilot Capless.

The 1964/66 Pilot Capless.

Perhaps because the first Fine nib I ever used was on a Chinese Golden Star/Hero fountain pen I bought in Albania, I’ve been unimpressed with F nibs. My writing style is fast, loose and semi-legible and the Golden Star F nib seemed scratchy and dry, especially on cheap paper. It was, at least to my sentiments at the time, not much different than using a ballpoint pen.

The gold Fine nib on the 1964/1966 Pilot Capless, though, is terrific. It is smooth and a lot of fun to use. It seems made for Pilot Blue-Black ink, but lately I’ve been using Maruzen Athena Blue-Black in it.

Even on cheap paper, the nib is smooth, and although I’m a big fan of the “faceted version” of the pen, I find I haven’t missed mine at all since I stopped using them. When I start reusing this pen, though, after a period of non use, I quickly realize why I liked it and look for excuses to use it.

A close up of the nib on the 1964/1966 Pilot Capless.

A close up of the nib and feed on the 1964/1966 Pilot Capless.

The nib from a different angle.

The nib from a different angle.

I like that, although it’s thin, it doesn’t have the large clip of the other versions. I’m able to hold the pen the same way I hold all my other pens. This makes it easier to write small. The pen uses the older Con-W converter which, oddly, holds slightly more ink than the more modern converters.

My main complaint is that, because of its age, the pen tends to leak ink. It doesn’t drip out of the pen, but it does get all over the mechanism of the pen. Also, because of its short tube, the Con-W never feels 100% secure on the pen. I also have to be careful to align things correctly.

Since I got the 1964/66 Capless, I’ve been experimenting with fine nibs and pens from different companies.

My handwriting is still terrible, but at least it’s small and compact.

 

 

 

The 2016 Tokyo Folding Knife Show

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He really was too trusting, but then he was also surrounded with knives. Later, he set the knife up as a kind of trap.

Today was the 2016 Tokyo Folding Knife Show. Since I started attending knife shows, the Folding Knife Show has consistently been among the best of the shows. Lately, it’s actually been improving.

This year’s show featured a number of new makers, including one young man who was both in over his head and attracting a lot of attention. Daisuke Kojima‘s flipper knives started selling and he found himself with only a couple knives but no business cards. The old guard, partly happy to see a young face, spent a lot of time chatting with him, and when he had the chance, he visited their tables with a shocked “hey guys” look on his face and an obvious fear of offending someone.

One of Daisuke Kojima's knives.

One of Daisuke Kojima’s knives.

I also got a chance to play with some flipper knives made by an Australian named Glenn Waters. He lives and works in Aomori and promotes his knives “pocket art” or “art knives”. He scrolls each knife by hand, making each knife unique. The first knife I picked up had a 900,000 yen, or $7907.23 price tag. It was a VG-10 steel blade with titanium on the lock side, and Timascus bolsters and mammoth ivory scales on the show side. It also had a reasonably usable blade shape. I’m still shocked he let me pick it up and play with it.

Glenn Water's knive.

Glenn Water’s knife. It has a usable blade shape, but would you really use it?

Later in the show he would hide the price tag under the knife. This seemed dangerous to me as people would pick it up, see the price, and drop the knife as their hearts failed.

Taiwanese maker Chen Wei Chun had an impressive display of Damascus folding knives that were well made and provided lots of temptation.

Chen Wei Chun's knife.

Chen Wei Chun’s knife. It’s not a bad price for a large knife.

My favorite item was a combination pen/killing tool from Tadashi Machida. It was a wood ballpoint with a pocket knife built into the top. The two halves of the pen could twist apart revealing an impressive looking “stop reading over my shoulder” weapon/metal awl.

Is this awesome or crazy?

Is this awesome or crazy? Yours for only $439.30.

i got there late (long story) and stayed for the drawing. I didn’t win anything (not even the black sesame seed seasoning) but had a good time.

The next show is next month. I’ll probably go, but it won’t be as much fun as today.

 

 

 

Watch Where You Sit or Watch Your Diet

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My plan actually worked better than expected, which is not necessarily a good thing.

Today was a farewell party for teachers leaving the English department at the school where I work. Four young teachers were moving on to permanent positions at other schools and one teacher was retiring after 37 years at the school. There were a couple odd things: One teacher is going to be an extra in an upcoming Godzilla movie, another teacher was having her second farewell party as she’d already left once and then come back. I hadn’t spoken to any of them more than a few times but thought it best to be there because of office politics.

By accident, I arrived before everyone else and chose my seat carefully. The plan was to pick a small table with only four chairs because then we’d get plates designed to serve six people but only have to share them between four people.

This turned about better than expected because the people I was sitting next to started rejecting their portions. They did this because their portions contained mushrooms and/or were staring back at them. (Today’s meal featured whole shrimp and a lot of whole tiny white fish which look suspiciously like little white worms.) I and another colleague suddenly found ourselves with more food than we expected. Japanese parties are usually long on beer and short on food but we were suddenly getting full.

We made up for the extra food by passing on things our colleagues did eat (well, most of it anyway).

This, of course, busted my usual diet–although I managed not to eat more carbs than usual, unless you count the beer…

I was also on my best behavior–not that my usual behavior was that bad–until I ordered whisky as my second drink. I ordered two glasses of whisky (straight, of course) which prompted two reactions:

1–Straight?
2–Two?

When the glasses of whisky came they understood. The portions were quite small and I combined them into one glass to make a normal single.

This means, at the end of the day, I had more food than I expected, and will probably pay for it tomorrow, and had more whisky than anyone else expected, although it wasn’t actually that much.

 

 

Trying to Settle Down

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I finally got to properly waste time today, but most of it was done in class.

The last day of classes can be strange, especially if you have junior high school classes. Our classes amount to

1–tease high score, low score and average on board,
2–take roll,
3–pass out answer sheets,
4–correct mistakes in answer sheets,
5–finish writing high score, low score and average,
6–hand out exams,
7–Let students copy answers,
8–Answer questions, correct counting errors,
9–Collect answer sheets,

That all takes, at most, 15 minutes–and that’s only if there are lots of questions and/or one student takes it seriously–leaving 35 more minutes to fill. Some teachers show videos; some give extra credit assignment; and next year I’m going to have extra work for the classes with the lowest averages.

However, this year, I got nothing. I let the students relax while I do other things.

Then there’s some final busy work: entering final marks, correcting mistakes, and purging desks and folders of old paper and roll cards.

Leaving feels really strange, especially if most everyone else is staying and are coming back the next day.

Once i get home, there’s the odd feeling that things aren’t over yet. There’s still some busy work, a farewell party (for teachers who never actually spoke to me) and then a speech contest next week. It all feels very strange, but I managed to properly waste time.

I played some games and then took pictures of ink. That involved cotton swabs, paper, a Samsung tablet, and no small amount of self-doubt and swearing. That led to a need to break out the real camera and the light box to get better pictures. It wasn’t a pressing enough need, though, to prompt immediate action.

Eventually I’ll settle into proper time wasting, interrupted only by my company’s odd demands for attention/busy work.

I’ll probably go back to school at least once, though. I’m sure there’s something I forgot.

The Last Mark is the Hardest

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Today was one of those days where work stretched to meet the time, and then they mangled each other in a messy fight and the work kept pushing time around.

This is a nice way of saying I spent a lot longer finishing things today than I expected and than necessary.

When I have lots of time, I tend to stretch my exam marking over a few days with, in theory, an equal amount of work each day. This is supposed to prevent burnout. However, my plan for yesterday was to finish everything so that today would be free. Yesterday’s excursion, which I only learned about the morning of the show, left that plan in shambles.

Marking, especially when I’ve got lower level junior high school classes, requires constant momentum. If I’m in the middle of a big push and stop, it’s hard to get going again. The other thing the excursion did was sap a lot of energy.

I got up later than usual and took my time getting started. Once I got started, things went well, but I quickly faded. (It didn’t help that I’m always watching a local store’s website to see if ink is in supply.) When the fade happens, I find myself marking a couple pages and then actively seeking distractions. The lower level the students, the harder it is to get through their exams.

It also didn’t help that I was also stopping to record notes about my marking pen.

Luckily, today was rainy and cold and I didn’t feel like going out again (to buy ink, of course) and I that meant I couldn’t put the exams out of mind. I also, much to my own surprise, didn’t play any games.

That said, except for marking, I didn’t accomplish much, which meant my time wasting was actually wasted.

Once More Into the Maze of Style

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I was there for almost four hours and I only saw one gothic lolita, and even she was, technically, sweet. I’m either hanging out in the wrong place or the place I was hanging out has changed quite a bit.

Early in this millennium my job used to take me to Shibuya quite frequently. Shibuya is an odd intersection of youth culture, fashion, restaurants and sleeze that somehow manages to feel like a college town. One of its most gawked at features is the Shibuya Scramble when countless thousands of people cross intersection at Shibuya Crossing.

Among those people at the crossing used to be droves of young people dressed in various costumes, including rival gangs of lolitas. There were also the Gyaru (or Gals) who pushed fashion to remarkable extremes. This made Shibuya one of the most visually interesting places in Japan to people watch. Today, though, well.

I was there because it was my mission to escort our oldest to Shibuya and drop her off at a short concert. It was then my job to wait a couple hours until the concert was finished and then escort her back home. (Without a specific mission, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal for me to be in Shibuya.)

While I was waiting I took the time to walk around and people watch and to enjoy a meal at the newly opened Taco Bell. The Taco Bell food was pricey but good (the spicy fries are to kill for; yes, I know I’m supposed to be on a low carb diet, so what? I’ll still kill you for your spicy fries.) but the people were kind of bland. There was lots of black and brown and gray and I suddenly felt out of place in my red sweatshirt. In the old days, a red sweatshirt would have seemed boring.

I ended up in one of my old haunts, the maze-like Tokyu Hands main building and walked off the tacos and the burrito by taking the stairs up to the stationery sections. I ended up buying a couple notebooks, one of which may become my next food and exercise journal.

I then went back to retrieve our oldest. While I was waiting, a young woman dressed in a Sweet Lolita costume walked in. I thought, finally, this is Shibuya, but then I found our oldest and it was time to go home.

 

Land of Confusion and Mistrust

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I wouldn’t trust me either.

I lied to someone twice today. Actually, the first time I conveyed a lie. The second time I was just flat out lying.

I’ve mentioned before how this time of year leads to confusion and mistrust and it didn’t help that there was a distraction. I found out on Friday that one of my speech contest choices (long story) had voted himself off the island, so to speak, and was refusing to go to the speech contest. He claimed I’d chosen someone else (not true). I suspected that he’d merely improvised his speech (and did quite well) and that’s why 1) he hadn’t given me a written copy of it and 2) was resisting going to the speech contest.

Turns out, that was all true.

However, that was the only thing I was right about today.

First, I sent our new people to another building to deliver cards–repeating what someone else had said–only to be there when the cards were returned as it wasn’t necessary to turn them in.

Then, I stayed later than necessary because I thought had to check final marks because the schedule I had listed today as final marks day. At about four o’clock, it was revealed that, in fact, final marks had been moved to tomorrow and that my schedule was well past the “use by” date.

I then exploited Canadian Guilt–which I just learned existed–to avoid having to go in early tomorrow. (Long story.)

All this makes me, arguably, the least trustworthy person in the school.

This, however, may be a good place to be as it guarantees no one will ever come to me for advice and I’ll never be responsible for anyone’s actions.

Now if I could just figure out a way to scale this to other parts of my life…