Japan is quite hot in the summer for your average Canadian. And, especially for this Canadian. I have to break my employer's dress code every day here, as long pants would surely cause me great distress. So, I am constantly in a pair of shorts and a light shirt, and a pair of Japanese thongs (called zouri or ぞうり if your computer displays Japanese fonts).
I am utterly amazed when I see the average Japanese man, wearing a full-length black suit, or woman, wearing a long-sleeved shirt with bonnet. (Well, perhaps these aren't your average Japanese people, but I do often see very old women, rice farmers I think, wearing these bonnets around their heads.) Are they being punished? Who is forcing them to wear such heavy, un-summerish attire?
I have contemplated buying a portable fridge simply for the storage of my underwear, as well as buying ice packs to sit on as I drive to and from my classes.
Random details on the hot weather:
-convenience stores sell frozen ice tea and other drinks to keep cool on those hot days at the beach
-most women walk and ride bikes here holding umbrellas or parasols to protect themselves from the sun
-both young women and young men can be seen fanning themselves with Japanese fans (uchiwa or うちわ)
-cars idling for a very long time are often seen in parking lots containing sleeping men waiting for their wives to finish their shopping
-outdoor vending machines (which truly blanket the streets here) are available at every 5 footsteps to quench your thirst
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Cat
We have a cat which we found on a Saturday night at a park during the height of this year's cherry blossom season. It was meowing loudly from up in a sakura tree so we approached it. I thought it was simply upset from being caught up in the tree, but after climbing up, retrieving the cat, and placing it back on the ground, we noticed that much of its two rear paws were covered in a thick, dry, black, oily substance. We felt quite sorry for it, and as it followed us as we walked the path to the park's exit, we discussed whether we should adopt it, as it didn't seem to be a "park" cat, which are usually ugly, dirty, and bent-tailed.
We decided to come back the next day to see how it was doing. It was raining that Sunday and sure enough, the little wet cat crawled meowing out of the bushes where we had left it the night before. Again, we contemplated taking it home.
The odd thing about the whole situation was that my girlfriend hated cats. There are many alley cats in this Japanese city (in most, I think) and whenever we'd see one while driving, my girlfriend would hit the accelerator pedal and attempt to run it over. Now, I'm sure this was all done in jest, but I know that she was definitely not enamoured by these furry animals.
So, I was under the impression that the first "discussion" and the later "contemplation" would be over very quickly when I reminded her of her feelings for felines. However, a transformation must have occurred within her, because she began pleading with me to bring the cat home with us.
So we did. Now we had a noisy, hungry, oily cat in our house. What were we to do? Well, obviously, we started rubbing petroleum jelly into the cat's rear paws to get the dry oil out. Who wouldn't? But this didn't work as spectacularly as we'd hoped. In the next few days and weeks, we cut the affected fur off the cat when given the opportunity. Finally, he started to again resemble a normal cat.
We have started taking the cat on little excursions back to the park, in the hope that (well, for me anyway) he'll decide to make his life there, instead of in the confines of the two rooms he has taken over on the main floor of our house. Thus far, he has always followed us back to the car, to make the journey back home with us.
We decided to come back the next day to see how it was doing. It was raining that Sunday and sure enough, the little wet cat crawled meowing out of the bushes where we had left it the night before. Again, we contemplated taking it home.
The odd thing about the whole situation was that my girlfriend hated cats. There are many alley cats in this Japanese city (in most, I think) and whenever we'd see one while driving, my girlfriend would hit the accelerator pedal and attempt to run it over. Now, I'm sure this was all done in jest, but I know that she was definitely not enamoured by these furry animals.
So, I was under the impression that the first "discussion" and the later "contemplation" would be over very quickly when I reminded her of her feelings for felines. However, a transformation must have occurred within her, because she began pleading with me to bring the cat home with us.
So we did. Now we had a noisy, hungry, oily cat in our house. What were we to do? Well, obviously, we started rubbing petroleum jelly into the cat's rear paws to get the dry oil out. Who wouldn't? But this didn't work as spectacularly as we'd hoped. In the next few days and weeks, we cut the affected fur off the cat when given the opportunity. Finally, he started to again resemble a normal cat.
We have started taking the cat on little excursions back to the park, in the hope that (well, for me anyway) he'll decide to make his life there, instead of in the confines of the two rooms he has taken over on the main floor of our house. Thus far, he has always followed us back to the car, to make the journey back home with us.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Saturday today (well, actually, the wee hours of Sunday.) My first class alternates between 2 adult ladies and a young girl. A Japanese teacher sometimes comes into town to teach the 2 ladies, and when he does, I teach the young girl. I find myself praying that he doesn't make it. The young girl has the face of someone who would rather be stone dead than in my class. I really can't deal with it. This has got to be my worst class. One young bored-to-death girl who barely says a word. She beats me. A crying mass of 4 year-olds I can handle. But not her.
My second class is bi-weekly. Or is it bi-monthly. I can never remember what the "bi-" signifies. I could look it up, as I usually do, but I won't. This class is comprised of six cousins, 4 from in town, and 2 from a short ways out of town. They are of various ages and abilities so it's a bit challenging, but it's pretty good. One little girl in particular has the voice of an angel, and when she decides to speak, my day is made.
My last class is made up of 4 junior high school students. This is a good class, although they spoke much too much Japanese in class until 3 weeks ago. This is when I (clever guy that I am) decided to "trick" them into speaking English by entering into a contract with them, whereby if they satisfied certain conditions, I would take them all out to dinner. (I have taken them out to 2 dinners thus far.) I thought I'd never have to lay out one yen on this deal. But apparently, these kids are brighter than I thought. During the first class, only one student spoke any Japanese. My rules were much too lax. Each kid had three strikes and every 10 minutes there was a 1-minute J-break (Japanese break). So 2 weeks ago we went to Mos Burger. Last week I told them I simply had to change the rules or else I would go broke and have to move back in with my parents. So now the entire class as a whole had 3 strikes, and they would have to follow the new rules for 2 weeks in succession to win the food. Today we went to Coco Curry (a bit cheaper than Mos.) I'm relying on two kids to break the rules, but, being the bright kids that they are, they've adopted unforeseen tactics, such as skipping class, and putting strips of scotch tape over their mouths. I think I'll have to rethink the rules again for next week.
Well, goodnight!
My second class is bi-weekly. Or is it bi-monthly. I can never remember what the "bi-" signifies. I could look it up, as I usually do, but I won't. This class is comprised of six cousins, 4 from in town, and 2 from a short ways out of town. They are of various ages and abilities so it's a bit challenging, but it's pretty good. One little girl in particular has the voice of an angel, and when she decides to speak, my day is made.
My last class is made up of 4 junior high school students. This is a good class, although they spoke much too much Japanese in class until 3 weeks ago. This is when I (clever guy that I am) decided to "trick" them into speaking English by entering into a contract with them, whereby if they satisfied certain conditions, I would take them all out to dinner. (I have taken them out to 2 dinners thus far.) I thought I'd never have to lay out one yen on this deal. But apparently, these kids are brighter than I thought. During the first class, only one student spoke any Japanese. My rules were much too lax. Each kid had three strikes and every 10 minutes there was a 1-minute J-break (Japanese break). So 2 weeks ago we went to Mos Burger. Last week I told them I simply had to change the rules or else I would go broke and have to move back in with my parents. So now the entire class as a whole had 3 strikes, and they would have to follow the new rules for 2 weeks in succession to win the food. Today we went to Coco Curry (a bit cheaper than Mos.) I'm relying on two kids to break the rules, but, being the bright kids that they are, they've adopted unforeseen tactics, such as skipping class, and putting strips of scotch tape over their mouths. I think I'll have to rethink the rules again for next week.
Well, goodnight!
Friday, July 15, 2005
It is now Friday afternoon, and I haven't written in a few days. I think this is because I had to recover from my Wednesday, which is often soul-crushing. (Although I don't think we have souls, I will use the word here, as I think it aptly communicates my feeling of Woden's Days.)
Once a month, Wednesday starts much earlier than usual. On these days, I must awake early, and travel 30 minutes to a smallish town out of the city, to teach at a Christian daycare centre. I'm not sure if these little kids are Christians (they certainly don't behave in a Christian manner), and if they are, I'm not sure why. Why would any intelligent Japanese citizen, contented with the private, individualistic and peaceful spirituality of Buddhism or Shintoism, consciously decide to cross to the Dark Side... uh, I mean Christianity?
The hour I spend here is divided (as in my Tuesday class) into a younger group and an older group. The younger group is almost too young, not really knowing what to make of this tall, big-nosed gaijin, singing and dancing around, and speaking strange sounds that he wants them to repeat. I think it was in this class that a young boy came up to me and hit me in the groin. I usually reply to these occurrences with a "Yamete kudasai!" (stop that please), but this time there was a bit more pain, so I went after the kid and grabbed him with both hands and scolded him until the smile went from his face. Then I was back in front of the class as if nothing had happened, jumping and singing. Ah, the humiliation.
My drive out to this town is pleasant. It was raining this day, but in this new country, I find that the rain doesn't bother me as much as it might in my home country. As do most roads here, this one wound around hills and mountains and past small towns and rice fields. A sibling of mine has previously stated that the trees sprouting from the mountains in Japan look like broccoli. However, I would have to say that some resemble asparagus, while others look like large feathers. Of course, many of them look like trees, as trees should.
In the early afternoon I teach an adult class at a local community centre. Then it's off to teach a small 4-student primary class at a larger community centre. Then to teach a brother and sister at their parents' apartment. I think they're 4 and 6 years old respectively. They spent some time with their family in the west so they can speak fairly easily. Conversation classes with young children are challenging. Then it's another brother-sister class at one of my school's classroom buildings. This class used to be painful, but is getting more enjoyable. They seem to like me well enough, and the brother is really impressed by my hair-covered arms, going so far as to gently rub his hands over them, as if this were completely normal to do to a teacher. Then I teach a medical professional, who typically has me edit his research team's journal submissions. This is challenging, as we only have an hour together, much of which is spent on me listening to him read the article. It's quite difficult catching grammar problems when you're listening to differently-accented English. I had originally wanted him to credit me in his papers, but I realized that my superficial editing would not be up to par, and would I really want my name below a paper that I hadn't put my 100% into? My mind was made up when I read in an editor's response to one of the submissions that I had edited, that it might benefit the authors if they had a native speaker of English go over the paper. Ouch!
Once a month, Wednesday starts much earlier than usual. On these days, I must awake early, and travel 30 minutes to a smallish town out of the city, to teach at a Christian daycare centre. I'm not sure if these little kids are Christians (they certainly don't behave in a Christian manner), and if they are, I'm not sure why. Why would any intelligent Japanese citizen, contented with the private, individualistic and peaceful spirituality of Buddhism or Shintoism, consciously decide to cross to the Dark Side... uh, I mean Christianity?
The hour I spend here is divided (as in my Tuesday class) into a younger group and an older group. The younger group is almost too young, not really knowing what to make of this tall, big-nosed gaijin, singing and dancing around, and speaking strange sounds that he wants them to repeat. I think it was in this class that a young boy came up to me and hit me in the groin. I usually reply to these occurrences with a "Yamete kudasai!" (stop that please), but this time there was a bit more pain, so I went after the kid and grabbed him with both hands and scolded him until the smile went from his face. Then I was back in front of the class as if nothing had happened, jumping and singing. Ah, the humiliation.
My drive out to this town is pleasant. It was raining this day, but in this new country, I find that the rain doesn't bother me as much as it might in my home country. As do most roads here, this one wound around hills and mountains and past small towns and rice fields. A sibling of mine has previously stated that the trees sprouting from the mountains in Japan look like broccoli. However, I would have to say that some resemble asparagus, while others look like large feathers. Of course, many of them look like trees, as trees should.
In the early afternoon I teach an adult class at a local community centre. Then it's off to teach a small 4-student primary class at a larger community centre. Then to teach a brother and sister at their parents' apartment. I think they're 4 and 6 years old respectively. They spent some time with their family in the west so they can speak fairly easily. Conversation classes with young children are challenging. Then it's another brother-sister class at one of my school's classroom buildings. This class used to be painful, but is getting more enjoyable. They seem to like me well enough, and the brother is really impressed by my hair-covered arms, going so far as to gently rub his hands over them, as if this were completely normal to do to a teacher. Then I teach a medical professional, who typically has me edit his research team's journal submissions. This is challenging, as we only have an hour together, much of which is spent on me listening to him read the article. It's quite difficult catching grammar problems when you're listening to differently-accented English. I had originally wanted him to credit me in his papers, but I realized that my superficial editing would not be up to par, and would I really want my name below a paper that I hadn't put my 100% into? My mind was made up when I read in an editor's response to one of the submissions that I had edited, that it might benefit the authors if they had a native speaker of English go over the paper. Ouch!
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
My Tuesday is finished. My classes went well, and here is a summary of them.
At 4pm I have a 4-student kids' class at a local community centre. Their ages run from 4 to 6. I have mixed feelings about this class. The kids are invariably well-behaved little children or ill-behaved little donkeys. The room is too big, there are no tables or chairs or whiteboards, and this leads the kids to run around like hamsters loose from their wheels. One of the kids is possibly learning-disabled. His mother has witnessed his behaviour in the class, and I wonder why she continues to bring him. Another kid is quite bright, but can be very disruptive. Lately though, he's been pretty good. More on these kids as they do things that deserve mentioning.
This class ends at 4:45pm, after which I rush 15 minutes out of town to teach a class of two kids at 5:30: one, a bright 8-year old girl; the other, a possibly brain-dead 10-year old boy. If I were this kid, I couldn't show my face in this class. A student, 2 years younger than I, can read, write, and operate her brain better than I can. I've tried communicating to this kid (and to his mother) that he needs to do some home-study, but to no avail. This class runs for 50, sometimes painful, minutes.
Then, quickly back to the main school, to teach the aforementioned junior high school student at 6:45pm for 45 minutes. I found a folk-tale from Quebec about a farmer who sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for the Devil's loup-garou minions doing all of his work for him at night. He had found an interesting Japanese tale about a maidservant, who, after a misunderstanding with her master's wife, was thrown into a well with her hands bound behind her back (soon to be followed by her grieving mother, and a few other family members). Years later, a never-before-seen insect emerged from the well, which, when inspected under a magnifying glass, displayed a shape very closely resembling the figure of a young women, with, you guessed it, her hands bound behind her back. Now, I wasn't able to glean morals from either of these stories, beyond the obvious: don't make deals with the Devil; and don't choose as your career to be a Japanese maidservant.
Next, it's to the home of a Japanese couple, where I typically get served a delicious meal. I try to opt out of this meal every other week. It's difficult to teach with mouthfuls of rice, or squid brains. Tonight I learned that the husband had been in two local triathlons about 15 years ago. We talked about this most of the hour I was there (8pm - 9pm). Rather than an obnoxious child, they own a small daschund (as do many, many Japanese couples.)
Finally, done. Back home to dinner and my girlfriend.
Tomorrow, I teach a once-a-month (too often for my tastes) nursery school class about 30 minutes out of town. I do not anticipate it being enjoyable. More on this after I return. If I return...
At 4pm I have a 4-student kids' class at a local community centre. Their ages run from 4 to 6. I have mixed feelings about this class. The kids are invariably well-behaved little children or ill-behaved little donkeys. The room is too big, there are no tables or chairs or whiteboards, and this leads the kids to run around like hamsters loose from their wheels. One of the kids is possibly learning-disabled. His mother has witnessed his behaviour in the class, and I wonder why she continues to bring him. Another kid is quite bright, but can be very disruptive. Lately though, he's been pretty good. More on these kids as they do things that deserve mentioning.
This class ends at 4:45pm, after which I rush 15 minutes out of town to teach a class of two kids at 5:30: one, a bright 8-year old girl; the other, a possibly brain-dead 10-year old boy. If I were this kid, I couldn't show my face in this class. A student, 2 years younger than I, can read, write, and operate her brain better than I can. I've tried communicating to this kid (and to his mother) that he needs to do some home-study, but to no avail. This class runs for 50, sometimes painful, minutes.
Then, quickly back to the main school, to teach the aforementioned junior high school student at 6:45pm for 45 minutes. I found a folk-tale from Quebec about a farmer who sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for the Devil's loup-garou minions doing all of his work for him at night. He had found an interesting Japanese tale about a maidservant, who, after a misunderstanding with her master's wife, was thrown into a well with her hands bound behind her back (soon to be followed by her grieving mother, and a few other family members). Years later, a never-before-seen insect emerged from the well, which, when inspected under a magnifying glass, displayed a shape very closely resembling the figure of a young women, with, you guessed it, her hands bound behind her back. Now, I wasn't able to glean morals from either of these stories, beyond the obvious: don't make deals with the Devil; and don't choose as your career to be a Japanese maidservant.
Next, it's to the home of a Japanese couple, where I typically get served a delicious meal. I try to opt out of this meal every other week. It's difficult to teach with mouthfuls of rice, or squid brains. Tonight I learned that the husband had been in two local triathlons about 15 years ago. We talked about this most of the hour I was there (8pm - 9pm). Rather than an obnoxious child, they own a small daschund (as do many, many Japanese couples.)
Finally, done. Back home to dinner and my girlfriend.
Tomorrow, I teach a once-a-month (too often for my tastes) nursery school class about 30 minutes out of town. I do not anticipate it being enjoyable. More on this after I return. If I return...
My second class, beginning a little after 10am, was a bit better than last week's, when it seemed as if I'd been thrown into a cage filled with 20 enraged and/or crying small primates. This morning, I tried to warn them that if they didn't behave well, then I wouldn't lift them up over my head, but it was difficult, as they don't understand poor, backwards-sounding Japanese. So, they learned a bit, we played some games, and then I lifted each one of them over my head. It's a good work-out, although getting so close to all these kids encourages the infection of S____ Sensei with little-kid germs.
I picked up the weekly pay and drove home. My girlfriend had already left to run some errands. I started my first blog posting and received a call from her. Could you bring me some garbage bags? she asked. OK, I said. So I bought some exciting ones at Exciting Town and met her at the cafe. We had some lunch and then I returned home. Said hello to and fed the cat, wishing I could take him to the park (but it's been rainy here lately, so I can't) and came upstairs to continue blogging.
I have 4 more classes today (ugh) starting at 4pm and I'm about to prep for them. I'm trying to find an African ghost story for my conversation class with a male junior high school student. He lived in the U.S. for a while, so his English is decent. During my search I came across the following web page:
http://www.mundanebehavior.org/issues/v1n2/mandel.htm
Here, there's a fascinating account of an African tribe's reaction to a retelling of the story of Hamlet. Anyone who is in the least interested in Shakespeare should give this a quick read.
Back to work!
I picked up the weekly pay and drove home. My girlfriend had already left to run some errands. I started my first blog posting and received a call from her. Could you bring me some garbage bags? she asked. OK, I said. So I bought some exciting ones at Exciting Town and met her at the cafe. We had some lunch and then I returned home. Said hello to and fed the cat, wishing I could take him to the park (but it's been rainy here lately, so I can't) and came upstairs to continue blogging.
I have 4 more classes today (ugh) starting at 4pm and I'm about to prep for them. I'm trying to find an African ghost story for my conversation class with a male junior high school student. He lived in the U.S. for a while, so his English is decent. During my search I came across the following web page:
http://www.mundanebehavior.org/issues/v1n2/mandel.htm
Here, there's a fascinating account of an African tribe's reaction to a retelling of the story of Hamlet. Anyone who is in the least interested in Shakespeare should give this a quick read.
Back to work!
I woke up on time this morning, but as usual, I advanced my alarm clock (the old mechanical type) by about 30 minutes, and tried to fall back asleep. It was difficult, as I was thinking of only two things: the mosquito that we had seen last night but were unable to kill; and the buggy 4 and 5 years olds I was soon to teach... but would be unable to kill.
After the alarm rang a second time, I switched it off, and lay there, contemplating my next move. Would I get up? Or, would I sleep in late and miss my class? I opted for the latter, but alas, not 3 minutes later, my girlfriend's arm swung around and gave me a stiff hit, perhaps a not-so-unconscious message that I should get up and get ready.
So I did. I had a cold-water shave (no hot water in our bedroom washroom) and realized that I had been bitten by the mosquito near the right corner of my mouth. Or maybe it was only a shaving welt. I fed the incessantly-meowing cat and hopped into the shower (fortunately, there IS hot water in the downstairs shower; not in the sink though.) I dressed, kissed her cheek, and left the house.
I was running a bit late, but decided not to forgo my weekly ritual of stopping at one of the many, many Lawson's for a cold can of coffee and a rice triangle (onigiri in Japanese.) I consumed these quickly and arrived at the B___ nursery with 0 seconds to spare. (Arrival time: 9:30am.)
To enter the nursery, I must enter a 4-digit passcode to breach the gate, and cross a sandy playground teaming with children. Today, the passcode had been changed, and there were no children. Was I in luck? Had the entire nursery school population been whisked away in some Twilight-Zonesque incident? No, unfortunately, it hadn't. One of the female staff noticed I was having problems with the lock, and quickly came over to show me the new code. Upon closer inspection, I saw many children indeed inside the school, and began to hear cries of "S____ Sensei!" amongst more general cries and crying.
Removing my shoes just inside the entrance, I wearily (wearily on the inside, but wide-eyed and genki on the outside) entered the first classroom. This is a 30-minute lesson with just as many 4 year olds. Although it's the younger of my two classes, it's also the better behaved. Because the class is structured around many songs, and many repetitive drills, there isn't much time for misbehaving. However, depending on which Japanese helper has been scheduled, the childrens' behaviour can sometimes get out of hand. There's a lot of crotch- or bum-poking (that's pretty normal stuff for Japanese kids to do to foreign teachers, I'm told) as well as hair-pulling and punching amongst the children. Today went quite well, and there were no incidents.
Stay tuned for a description of the second class. Right now, I'm going to meet my girlfriend downtown and grab some lunch.
After the alarm rang a second time, I switched it off, and lay there, contemplating my next move. Would I get up? Or, would I sleep in late and miss my class? I opted for the latter, but alas, not 3 minutes later, my girlfriend's arm swung around and gave me a stiff hit, perhaps a not-so-unconscious message that I should get up and get ready.
So I did. I had a cold-water shave (no hot water in our bedroom washroom) and realized that I had been bitten by the mosquito near the right corner of my mouth. Or maybe it was only a shaving welt. I fed the incessantly-meowing cat and hopped into the shower (fortunately, there IS hot water in the downstairs shower; not in the sink though.) I dressed, kissed her cheek, and left the house.
I was running a bit late, but decided not to forgo my weekly ritual of stopping at one of the many, many Lawson's for a cold can of coffee and a rice triangle (onigiri in Japanese.) I consumed these quickly and arrived at the B___ nursery with 0 seconds to spare. (Arrival time: 9:30am.)
To enter the nursery, I must enter a 4-digit passcode to breach the gate, and cross a sandy playground teaming with children. Today, the passcode had been changed, and there were no children. Was I in luck? Had the entire nursery school population been whisked away in some Twilight-Zonesque incident? No, unfortunately, it hadn't. One of the female staff noticed I was having problems with the lock, and quickly came over to show me the new code. Upon closer inspection, I saw many children indeed inside the school, and began to hear cries of "S____ Sensei!" amongst more general cries and crying.
Removing my shoes just inside the entrance, I wearily (wearily on the inside, but wide-eyed and genki on the outside) entered the first classroom. This is a 30-minute lesson with just as many 4 year olds. Although it's the younger of my two classes, it's also the better behaved. Because the class is structured around many songs, and many repetitive drills, there isn't much time for misbehaving. However, depending on which Japanese helper has been scheduled, the childrens' behaviour can sometimes get out of hand. There's a lot of crotch- or bum-poking (that's pretty normal stuff for Japanese kids to do to foreign teachers, I'm told) as well as hair-pulling and punching amongst the children. Today went quite well, and there were no incidents.
Stay tuned for a description of the second class. Right now, I'm going to meet my girlfriend downtown and grab some lunch.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
