Category Archives: Japan

The Older She Gets The Less it Matters

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Today was our oldest’s final junior high sports day. I managed to avoid half of it and wanted to avoid more.

I’ve written before about school sports days in Japan and the types of people who attend, but it occurs to me as I write this that I don’t think I’ve ever written about our oldest’s sports days.

This is partly because it is, if I’m doing the math correctly, our oldest’s 12th sports day (3 kindergarten, 6 elementary school, and 3 junior high school). This means that by now we’re pretty much sick of seeing lots of people dance and do sports. We’re interested in seeing how our oldest does, but have little interest in the spectacle.

That said, we arrived dutifully at 8:20 a.m. and watched the opening ceremony. I then discovered, to my horror, that our oldest’s first event wouldn’t take place until 10:20 or so. I considered going home, but stayed around taking pictures–I even manged to get a few good ones that I will post somewhere else (long story).

Luckily the crowd at the sports day has traditionally been very laid back. There’s little fighting to get tarp space as most people stand. Today’s crowd seemed larger than usual but they were polite. Even the precious places in the shade were not fought over.

After lunch–which we had at home and not at the sports field–I conferred with She Who Must Be Obeyed and discovered that there’d be nothing to photograph until after 3:00 p.m. I volunteered to stay home and process pictures whilst she went back to the junior high and filmed the dance routines. (These can be interesting, but you have to have exactly the right spot to take pictures of your child and they are usually only in that spot for a few seconds.)

Even after I came back to see the “Giant Jump Rope Competition” our oldest and the rest of the girls were facing away from me. I got a couple good pictures but nothing with our oldest.

I’ll be interested to see what the high school sports days are like. I’ll try to find out how seriously the school and the parents take the sports day. If it’s too serious, our oldest won’t be able to attend that school.

White Noise With Texture

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I horrified my colleagues today, although not for the usual reasons.

Typhoon 18 (aka Typhoon Etau) hit the center of Japan today and we in the Tokyo area were cursed with all the rain but none of the train cancellations. This meant I had to go to work. I didn’t get horribly wet when I went to work, as the rain was in “start then stop then pour then stop” mode (I believe this is an actual scientific term).

In fact, I didn’t get wet until I went to the grocery store at lunch time and my umbrella decided to express its inside-out self.

What horrified my colleagues was my decision to walk to the station when it was clear that the sky was about to fall. I predicted it would fall about 10 minutes after I left the office. They pointed out there was a bus and I pointed out that 1) I’d end up like Totoro standing in the rain waiting for the bus or 2) I’d get packed into a hot sweaty bus full of students and end up wet and stinky rather than just wet.

What I didn’t tell them, because this would horrify them, is that I actually don’t mind walking in the rain, as long as I’m going home. (Walking in the rain going to work is a different problem.)

Because I can’t smell it, rain to me is sound and touch. The constant burr of rain on my umbrella and the road and the taps of rain hitting my shoes and my legs and the water splashing as I walk and the cold water on the back of my legs combine as a kind of white noise with texture. A heavy rain also washes out the colors on the street which makes the experience even more about noise and texture.

My walk home. (Not an actual photo.)

A depiction of my walk home. (Note: Rain not to scale, but that’s what it felt like.)

Then I get home and have to peel off my shoes and figure out a way to dry them (unless it’s raining again tomorrow which means I’ll just wear the same shoes since they are already wet) and I leave wet footprints across the floor.

By the time I get dried off and changed and sat down with a cup of coffee I feel as if I’ve had a shower and am much more relaxed than I would have been from just walking home. I sip coffee and hope it’s not going to be raining when I go to work tomorrow.

Dumbfounded by Birds of a Feather Huddling Together at the Back

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After Almost 26 years of teaching in various forms I’m rarely surprised. Today, though, my worst bad class surprised me for the better and the dumbfounded.

Traditionally, at the school where I work, the first two classes of the year for second and third year junior high school (8th and 9th grade) are spent chasing down and checking speeches for the annual speech contest. It is also a tradition for the foreign staff to guess how many students will actually 1) have a speech ready on the first day 2) be able to finish a speech on the first day and 3) actually have the worksheet for the speech.

(Note: I always declare on day one that if they are not finished it is okay. If they claim their dog ate their paper, I say “I hope your dog is okay”. If they don’t have their speech for the second class, I say I hope their dog died.”)

Being the optimist that I am not, I predicted that only two students would have finished speeches. The more optimistic of my colleagues predicted three and two.

The problems started when I arrived in class: the name calling started, although with less energy than usual and two students had decided to give themselves new seats at the back. I let them sit there as they were more interested in talking to each other than disrupting class.

After that start, though, things got better. Five students brought up finished and actually usable speeches. (One, if the author speaks well, has a chance to win it all.) By the end of the class, all but two students (guess which two) had finished their speeches and some had given me the rewritten draft I’d told them to write.

With a couple minutes left I called up the students at the back and told them to show me their speeches. The one that actually came up–who also happens to be one of the name callers–handed me a finished, surprisingly good speech. I was dumbfounded. Since he hadn’t even taken out a pencil or pen all class, he must have finished it at home. If he’d given it to me earlier, he wouldn’t have lost points. In fact, he’d have earned bonus points. (Instead the talking all class earned him a 0.)

I still don’t understand the logic behind not showing  me the speech. Actually, now that I think about it, I do understand: teenager.

As for the other student, he gave me attitude and showed me a blank paper. I told him he had to show me his finished speech next week or he’d have to come in at lunch and finish.

Knowing him, I just made a lunch date for next week. But I’ve already lost one bet this year.

 

Manners and Fat Men in Diapers Feeling Pain

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I spent the morning ruining my knees (again) whilst watching fat men beat the crap out of each other.

Through a former colleague, I was invited to join a very rare tour of Takanohana Beya, the current sumo stable of former Yokozuna Champion Takanohana. The “stable”, in this case, is a three story building where the rikishi live and train.

My former colleague runs a business helping people acquire sumo tickets and has, of late, been attempting to expand by creating closer links with the Sumo Kyokai, the body that manages sumo (for better and for worse). By a mix of persistence and luck, he was granted permission to bring a group of foreigners to watch a practice.

Although some stables open practices to outsiders (for a small fee) it’s very rare for foreigners to be granted this honor as there are lots of rules 1) no video 2) no flash photography 3) no cellphones 4) no talking 5) no visible tattoos and 6) don’t point the bottoms of your feet at the ring. We were going into their home and possibly interrupting their job so they only wanted people present who would not disrupt things.

Because of all these rules, and because a major tournament starts next week (meaning this was an important practice), my former colleague invited me along because he thought he’d have at least one adult in the room. (He really, really should read this blog before thinking things like that.)

After we arrived we got to see a few stages of practice over about 90 minutes. First there were some practice matches where the winner kept accepting new challengers and then Takanohana Oyakata (elder) arrived and began watching and, on occasion, directing the practice.

Takanohana (blue kimono) sips tea and watches a practice match.

Takanohana (in the center wearing the blue, flowered kimono) sips tea and watches a warm up match.

The warm up matches were followed by continuous attack practice in which one young rikishi (wrestler) pushed another across the ring whilst the other resisted being pushed. At some point, the younger rikishi being pushed was replaced by the highest level rikishi in the stable. At that point it got intense. If a pusher fails to get the other out, the rikishi being pushed forces the pushers head down and forces him to walk in a squat. (Sometimes, if they go in too high, they grab the pusher around the neck and sling him around until he falls.) There’s then a ritual where the rikishi being pushed throws the pusher down and they start over. I don’t know how many rounds this is supposed to go, but several young rikishi were reduced to grunts and wails by the end and could barely stand up. This was intense to see.

When they were finished, they then had to go off to the side and do leg practice.

Eventually, the practice moved to leg work. Some rikishi stretched whilst others hopped around the ring twice, then turned around and hopped around it twice in the other direction.

You are probably not this flexible. The blurs in the back are hopping around.

You are probably not this flexible. The blurs in the back are hopping around in a low pose.

After the practice there was a break and we got to see a demonstration of how the wrestler’s top knots are prepared by an expert hair stylist.

Smoothing the wrestler's hair. This usually takes place up stairs.

Smoothing the wrestler’s hair. This usually takes place up stairs.

Cleaning the wrestler's hair and spreading the wax.

Cleaning the wrestler’s hair and spreading the wax. The wax has a scent that is supposed to attract women.

After the hair styling demonstration we got a chance to eat Chanko Stew prepared by the younger wrestlers. We were eating the same food the wrestlers were eating upstairs and could even get seconds.

The stew was good, but salty, which is what you’d expect from men who’d just spent 90 minutes sweating and crying.

It was all much more interesting than I was expecting and I think all 15 or so guests were well behaved and my former colleague will have a chance to get invited back.

In the end I realized that although they can keep the weight, I wish I was that flexible.

End of Summer Rituals and Wretched Refuse

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Today is the last day before the last weekend before the autumn term starts. This means I have several rituals to perform and lots of crap to clean.

The first ritual is to go to the school where I work and start counting days off until the end of the term. This ritual is important because the most important part of any job is figuring out when you have days off. At the beginning of the school year I go through the annual schedule, totally unofficially of course, and figure out when exams and school trips are and try to work out how many classes I have with each section. After that, at the beginning of each term, I double check, usually with the hope that I missed a day off.

Unfortunately, this term that backfired. I found a cancelled class that makes my life more difficult because it means sections in the same grade meet 23, 22 and 17 times. That right, the others get around a third more class time or about three weeks’ worth of additional classes. Since I’m in charge of this grade, I’m the one responsible for planning for the short class whilst trying to figure out how to entertain the long classes. This leads me to seriously considering keeping a couple bottles of bourbon in the bottom drawer of my desk.

(Note: For about five years, in the old building, one teacher had an unopened bottle of wine sitting above his desk in plain sight of the room and students visiting the office; therefore having bourbon around might not be so odd. I’m not saying it’s a good idea, yet, just that it’s not that odd.)  

The second ritual is writing the days on folded sheets of A3 paper. These “folders” go inside clear files and as I carry the “folders” to each class, they serve as my official notes and log for each class. I record the term and, in case of trouble, the homeroom teachers’ names. Although I also have an electronic schedule, there’s nothing as satisfying as seeing the days on the front page get crossed out, especially once we cross the halfway point. (It’s also a great chance to test pens on regular copy paper.)

There’s also satisfaction in tearing them apart at the end of the term and saving the blank half as scratch paper and shredding the front half.

The third ritual happens both at the office and at home: the cleaning of last term’s refuse. As a teacher, paper tends to accumulate both slowly and all at once. I have my notes and rough drafts and leftover handouts that never got used and mistakes that should never have been printed. Those get sorted and tossed in the recycle box. At home I’ve got more of that and all the stuff not related to school that got acquired over the summer.

For about two weeks the desks both at home and at the office are clean and well organized. Then they start getting messy again and stay that way until the next ritual.

You Got to Obey the Rules to Break the Rules

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I was both mistaken and misled today, I also did some misleading.

First, my supervisor at the school where I work chastised me very slightly for having mucked up a pretty good plan. Without going in too much detail about the plan and the task behind it, let’s just say I was asked to agree to do something I thought was a bad idea because doing the way they wanted it didn’t actually help me out. Unfortunately, my supervisor didn’t hear my teeth sucking and heavy sigh and thought we had an agreement. This was my fault for not speaking up more clearly.

Instead, because I thought the usual “yeah it’s okay for you to do your job” process had already started, I waited for a phone call or a very rare email (the company I work for likes to leave a light paper trail) that never came. Instead I contacted the company I work for who went “Huh, what, really?” and that started a series of phone calls that led to my supervisor at the school where I work getting some extra work. I apologized for the trouble. If I’d know my supervisor at the school where I work hadn’t contacted the company I work for I wouldn’t have contacted them.

That said, the solution to all these layers of I contact A who contacts B who contacts D to tell D to contact me and explain what I’m supposed to do would go away if the school would just hire direct. If they don’t, then I don’t really mind causing a little extra work every now and then by simply following the rules.

Second, I went in today to proctor a make-up exam for a student who’d failed. I had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t be there. As predicted, at exam time, I was the only one in the room. I planned to stay the entire 50 minutes, but the teacher in the room next to me also didn’t have any students so he came over to my room to say hello. When he saw the room was empty he told me I had to stay 30 minutes and then could leave.

I stayed 30 minutes and left, and then 15 minutes later came back when I found out I’d been misled. It turns out the 30 minute rule only applies to end-of-term exams but for make-up exams the students can come in at any time, although they only have the authorized time to do the test. (For example, if they come in with five minutes left in the period, they have five minutes to finish the test.) Mind you, at no point did anyone tell me this and the only person who told me anything misled me.

I didn’t complain, though, because I’d already caused some trouble.

Not So Summery Summer Days

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Things finally reset today, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.

It is a tradition in Japan that every summer the Japanese press go to one of the major airports and film the reactions of foreigners as they walk out of air conditioned comfort into a level of cruelty they didn’t anticipate. There are legends of people arriving to Japan to work, suddenly rushing back into the airport to get tickets home after encountering the heat and humidity at even 9:30 in the morning. I’m convinced at least one of my friends was broken by the walk from the terminal to the bus and that ruined his entire tenure in Japan.

The previous 10 days, though, it’s been cloudy and cool and the foreigners have probably been more worried about where they could find a sweater or a good fleece jacket.

This has forced the press to the beaches to interview die hard beach bums and parents who couldn’t convince their young kids it was a bad day to go to the beach.

To give you a sense of the difference, the temperature the last 10 days has averaged, by my personal records, a high of about 23.1 Celsius (73.5 Fahrenheit) and, despite random rain, it has not been very humid. The usual temperature for this time of year is “Scorched Earth” (35 Celsius or 95 Fahrenheit) with a humidity level approaching liquid.

Today, the humidity returned with a vengeance and the sun appeared, after an annoying morning rain, to let us know it was still kind of important to the survival of the Earth and to make us annoyed that we had to carry umbrellas for no reason.

The temperature also returned and it got up to 30 Celsius (86 Fahrenheit) which is great if you can sit on the veranda sipping mint juleps but is bad if you actually have to work or move.

What worries me the most is that, despite the gloom (we didn’t see the sun for 10 days) the cool weather had everyone in a good mood (well, at least I was in a good mood) but the return of hot weather will put me in a bad mood just in time for the start of classes.

Maybe that’s for the best, though. A Scorched Earth mentality isn’t a bad thing to have at the start of the term, especially after summer vacation.

Paper Work for Me and for Thee

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Today I was confused about what I was supposed to do and where I was supposed to be so I just did what I wanted and then did some paperwork. I also sent an email that created work for other people.

I blame them for that, not me.

I’ve mentioned before the odd things the company I work for has done with my days off. This year was more confusing than usual because rather than talk to the department head to get my schedule, the powers what are spoke to the school admin. Unfortunately, the school admin doesn’t know that much. All it knows is “These are the days Dwayne is teaching. These are the days he is not.” Those are then broken down as “School Days” and “‘Work’ Days”. On school days I’m actually working and on “work” days I’m not actually working just doing busy work and have to fill out a couple forms and send stuff in to different email addresses.

The problem is, on some of the “work” days, I’m actually doing stuff at the school to get ready for the school days. The problem with that is that I’m not supposed to be at the school without “permission” because “hiding from government” or something like that. The problem with that is not really my problem, but it could become a pain in the rear.

However, sometime this past year the company I work for actually spoke to the department head who gave them an “earful” if “earful” is defined as “loud unholy hell”. It is possible, therefore, that today and the next three days are school days and not “work” days.

I sent in today’s “work” day forms and the emailed the person in charge of my schedule. I knew what would happen and about how long it would take. She would contact someone above her who would freak out. That person would contact my immediate handler (he’s not a supervisor because supervisor’s actually have authority to make decisions) and my immediate handler would contact me to get more information. After talking to me my immediate handler would contact my actual boss who would contact the school.

I’m predicting the school will not understand the problem and say “we sent you the schedule” and this will start a few more processes rolling. (If you haven’t noticed, there are a lot of layers above the layers above me.)

I have no idea how it will all work out. My immediate handler will call me with some BS explanation that doesn’t actually solve the problem. The only good thing about all this is I’m not the only one doing extra work and paper work.

Lazy Days Followed By Drinking and Blather

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I spent the day being lazy and then somehow managed to get showered, dressed and leave the house with pants and shoes on. I then ended up in a place that was kind of odd but kind of fun, in a very superficial Japanese kind of way.

The morning was spent doing very little. I sketched out a few ideas and answered a few emails and then watched other people play games. (Long story.)

Right before She Who Must Be Obeyed came home I got dressed and waited for her to arrive. For the record, this is not a very productive thing to do. After she arrived home there were a few minutes of pleasantries exchanged and then I headed to Tokyo to meet an old acquaintance for a few drinks.

Our initial plan was grass, literally, and we ended up in a strange grotto of food vans, tents and tables that didn’t sell food until 5:00 but were more than happy to sell us bottles of wine and beer.

(Note: this is a brilliant plan as it lets the beer munchies set in before food is even available.)

My acquaintance and I then spent a couple hours boring her significant other with tales of Japanese Woe and English Teaching Woe. He was awesome, though, and very patient.

The odd thing about it all was the location. It seemed to be an attempt to recreate food truck culture in what was, more or less, the equivalent of a joint beer garden in a parking lot. There were several permanent food trucks surrounding a tent and several tables. When we were able to order food, it was delivered to our table when it was ready rather than being slopped out as quickly as possible.

It was all very bizarre, but there was a stage with a DJ who actually played a pretty solid set. By the time we left the place was starting to fill up so they must be doing something right.

I do have a few suggestions for them (craft beer, plates of finger food, water) but that’s for another day, and other friends.

 

The Day Before the Week Before

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Tomorrow is the last day of summer and I will be trapped part of the day. After that I’m going to meet some old friends for a beer or two. The day after that the slow grind to the grind begins.

The slow grind to the grind begins with trips to the school where I work to finalize plans for make-up exams. (Hopefully I get a better reaction than the last time I went.) The only problem with that is, no matter how it goes, it’s the company I work for that might have issues. I’ll have to write a report and send it in and then, depending on the mood of the recipient will have to field at least one email about schedule changes.

Wednesday will be spent writing the make-up exam (probably from the comfort/distraction of home) and another daily report will be required and if I haven’t yet received an email about schedule changes, the odds of getting one increases.

Thursday is the make-up exam. This goes one of two ways 1) the student arrives, writes the exam and I spend some time marking it and filling in forms, 2) the student doesn’t arrive and I have to wait the entire 50 minutes in case, 3) the student arrives late and rushes to finish the exam. I will fill in yet another report and almost certainly will get the email about schedule changes if I haven’t yet received it

Friday I have to go in and check the final mark (if I’ve made any changes). That involves showing up at work, waiting and checking. While I’m waiting I’ll be planning the next term and probably meeting with my colleagues about the schedule and curriculum. This part usually isn’t much of a grind as my colleagues are all pretty cool; it’s just that seeing each other reminds us that the grind is about to begin.

On Monday the actual grind begins. The slow grind to the grind isn’t that bad, it’s just the mindset it puts you in. The grind is coming.

That said, the worst part about the grind, for at least two weeks, is your legs suddenly getting used to standing on hard objects again. If you’ve had some part time classes during the summer this isn’t as big a deal. The main change is you go back to your old students and it’s very easy to fall back in the old ways.