Fritter, anyone?

As a JET there are certain obligations that our schools must release us for, such as meetings, seminars, and stonings. This is generally a very sweet deal as it means we get a paid day or two away from the brats to socialise and generally pretend to be 'busy'. A few months ago we had our first meeting about lessons and strategies; it was all rather exciting as none of us had really started teaching classes yet and we were itching to go. We also all had quite a bit of money, so an after-party was guaranteed.

A month or so later we had another day long affair which our JTEs (Japanese Teachers of English) came along to. This was even more fun because all we really had to do was share our exciting and fresh experiences, look good in front of our JTEs, and have a blinding laugh at the guest speaker - the editor of the Japan Times - for whom nothing went right: his laptop broke, losing both his notes and his slides; then the projector that was projecting his broken laptop broke; and then the magnetic board he had resorted to fell off the stage. Halfway through his 'show' he stopped and looked at us and with a look of dejection said "you know, this isn't how I saw this going..."

We had our Mid Year Seminar this week - two glorious days of skive. Or so we thought. It was not the workshops that ruined it for us, they were moslty ace, but the end-of-day guest speakers. Yuzo Kimura is some sort of professor who taught high school English for a million years or so before becoming an expert in linguistics. His enthralling lecture was called "Comparative Practices of English Teaching in Neighbouring Asian Countries", or something to that mind-numbing effect. After an hour and a half of slides, videos, and endless statistics (we did not understand the relevance, or indeed point of any of the statistics. However each one evoked a gasp of amazement from the japanese third of the audience, making us feel all the more numb) a JET asked the question everybody wanted to hear: "What can I, as an ALT, take away from this lecture - what are the practical applications I can make?" The lecture had, after all, highlighted the stark and depressing disparities between successful high-tech teaching methods in China and the awful, unproductive, chalk and blackboard methods of obviously backward Japan. The reply: "Um, I can't answer that question."

Oh. Oh, well that's ok then.

Nothing. No applications. One might say, no relevance at all to your position as an ALT. Other than, of course, apply to teach in China next time. Thanks for coming to my lecture though, really.

The second day's guest speaker was a lady who, at the age of 45, tired of being an interpreter and instead went to uni for a few years and emerged as a professor and radio personailty. As you do. Needless to say her speech was far more interesting and entertaining, mainly by dint of her being able to speak pretty passable American English. But still - an hour and a half long. Why? Why must they do this?

It was Special School Thursday today, the delights of which you know all too well by now. Today however I have been transformed, from Geoff-sensei to Geoff-tarou (pronounced ta-roh). This is my new name, decreed by the elementary students. According to the teacher tarou means 'ordinary Japanese boy'. I'm assuming this is a compliment as I doubt the kids have the vindictiveness to actually patronise me, no matter how many times I am forced to put them through "If You're Happy and You've Got Them Clap Your Hands."

Brad...

you may have got stung, but at least you're a snappy dresser...

Flimflammery I tell you...

Well, that was quite possibly the cruellest experience I have ever had to put a child through.
Teaching at my special school this morning: “Ah, Geoff-sensei. 'If You’re Happy and You Know It'. Teach yes? You. Yes.” And she put up the words to it on the board. OK. I only have to do this for 40 minutes, I can handle that. Right then. It all goes fine for the first few words and then BAM! “what your what?” they all queried? Your hands, clap your hands. Hmm. Why are you looking at me like that. Oh. Ohhhhhhhhhhh.

I’m sure they really wanted to. Daichi has no arms and only half a leg. Saeya couldn’t make her hands meet if given a few hours and a some rubber bands, let alone meet with enough force to clap. In fact most of them have trouble controlling their arms generally. Maybe three could’ve done it. The sensei however insisted we continued. So I finally get through it, mostly it's just all me. Onto the next verse. No. No no no. Those that could just about get by with the clapping in the first part certainly cannot join me in the next: stamp your feet. Really, if they could I’m sure they’d love to. I spent 40 excruciating minutes basically showing off to a bunch of disabled kids what I can do with all four of my working limbs.
“Hey, Daichi! Check this out – Yeah! Stamping! Oh yeah! Yo, Takahiro, look at me woooo-wooo woooooooo! can ya do this? Can ya can ya?”


Recently I’ve been pondering the great question. No, not that great question – I sussed that one ages ago. This question is the one that plagues all JETs at around this point every year – should I re-contract?

JETs start to feel out who’s staying, who’s going. Teachers begin dropping subtle hints (which in Japan is very hard to catch unless you’re really concentrating). Yesterday my supervisor sing-songed “So, Geoff-san, neh. Have you madeupyourmiiiiiind? Neh, neh. Maybe one year is tooooooo short neh.” Which is the Japanese way of saying “please stay.” I was rather surprised at this as I was sure she cant wait to see the back of me. No, they want me to stay.

But do I?

Maybe I should write a pros and cons list:

Pro: Money
Con: Teaching Japanese kids
Pro: Great friends
Con: Teaching Japanese kids
Pro: Excitement, adventure, and really wild things
Con: Teaching Japanese kids

Actually, the teaching is not all that bad, it’s the things that go along with it: the terrible unresponsiveness of Japanese students; the highly boring essay marking; the ridiculous bureaucracy; the demand for TOTAL commitment to the school; the assumption that you know everything so there’s obviously no need to tell you; having to get up at 6am during the week; being totally unable to have a decent lie-in on the weekend because you get up at 6am during the week; teaching elementary kids and having to torture them with “If You’re Happy and You Know It”; the frustration of being unable, most of the time, to get an idea or a question across to an ‘English teacher’; the slight resentment from teachers that I earn more money than when they started.

Hmm, that’s quite a list isn’t it?

Then again there’s the actual thrill of everything coming together when you teach a successful lesson; the coolness of living, even succeeding, in an entirely alien culture; kids talking to you in English outside of the classroom; fun weekend trips; the great people I’ve met and will meet; the JET community; a guaranteed income every month.

Nope, that didn’t really help.

Before I came out here my mother told me never to come back. Well, no, of course she didn’t. She did, however, suggest I stay for longer than a year because of the great opportunity and the great pay. How many people can say in passing: “Japan? Oh yeah, I worked there for a few years when I was younger.......so this Aston Martin, does the price include a sunroof?” She has a point. I could actually get round to learning Japanese if I stayed an extra year; I could pay off all my debts and get round to starting some savings; I could totally breeze next year’s teaching because I’ve already done the prep.

Robin and I have discussed it and we still don’t know (though we are definitely starting from the “no” side). We’ll discuss it more by January and make a decision then (Robin: We are/are not staying.
Geoff: OK

Have I resolved my dilemma? No. Have you been entertained by my anguish? Maybe. At least someone’s getting something out of it.

This is indeed my thrid or fourth post of the day (not much on right now). But I had to do this one.

Last week I gave the students an essay to do, the question was "What do you think you will be doing in ten years time?" If I didn't know better I'd say this one girl was messing with me, but I doubt her English skills are developed enough to be able to do this intentionally. Read on:

"When I give up a big dream, I can't be absorbed elsewhere, but I have begun to be interested in psychology recently for a while. There is still little it.
In the inside to go out with a person, I thought.
Why she work such a thought?
I consider perception and power of observation to be good one from old days. When I analyzed a person without permission I worked out a countermeasure.
I don't yet understand whether I want to take psychology-work.
I'll interested in a completely different thing if I lent it and may take the work."

Now, how do I mark/correct that? Eh? Eh? No, really, tell me how....

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Originally uploaded by pedroalhambra.

Will the bowling pics ever stop? Not as long as there are great pics like this they wont! These shoes are so big that only I rent them, nobody else in Toyama would need them. I like to think the GB stands for Great Britain or Great Bowler. It doesn't though. Hmph.

It becomes difficult to think up new witty names to bowl under everytime. One Saturday afternoon I decided to distinguish Brad (an American) from myself with the kooky differences between British/American insults. Unfortunately it seems the employee couldn't really read English all that well...

I bowl quite alot here in Toyama. It helps that there's a bowling alley (Toyama Golden Bowl) five minutes from my apartment. However the jukebox selection is limited so I play the Scatman at least three times each visit.

This is The Scatman. I can't bowl without him.

where there's...

I'm sure there's a pun, if only I could find it......Iraqnid?

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Originally uploaded by pedroalhambra.

I saw this little bleeder over the weekend - or rather, she saw me. They're all over the place. The Japanese Wood Spider (for it is she) is the commonest spider in Japan, with the strongest web. It also bites and is poisonous, this one was the size of my palm. They also have a habit of pitching their two metre wide webs across the bike sheds at my apartment. Woody here, though you cant see it, was actually spinning a web as I took this.

Oiishi mizu baby, oiishi mizu...

An update for Sharon:

"From 1950s to 1960, Japan enjoyed technological revolution, modernization and rapid economic growth. At the same time pollutants discharged by large industries caused many disabling conditions among citizens and this became major social issue.

In 1955, arsenic milk poisoning in Morinaga milk, and in 1956 in Minamata disease due to mercury poisoning drew public attention. This was followed by “Itai-Itai” disease in Toyama prefecture caused by discharged water by mining companies and asthma due to air pollution from Yokkaichi oil refining industries and so forth which caused disabling conditions among many citizens."

From Disability Movement, Trends in Major Disability Specific Organizations. http://www.dinf.ne.jp/doc/english/resource/z00009/z0000903.htm

Bloody Kids...

Every Thursday I teach elementary, junior high, and high school lessons at a special school. I know I've mentioned that, but, it is special, so it needs constant reaffirmation right? Also every Thursday I wake up in a bit of a grump because I don't want to go to special school (bit of a re-run of my childhood actually. Without the special school of course, despite what my sister tells everyone). I’m grumpy because, dammit, I didn't sign up to teach elementary school or junior high school kids. Also, unfeeling of me as it is to say - I definitely didn't sign up to teach handicapped children. I have no training and - despite what I told the JET interview board - very little patience.

So every Thursday I get on the early bus for the 40 minute ride to the hospital that the school is attached to and sit down to glower at people. If they're lucky I might have a book to glower at instead. Then I trudge into the building, fall in my seat and silently pray that no-one will bother me. And then I get to my first class and I really have no choice but to be the very antithesis of 'morning Geoffrey'......and damn these kids if I don't leave Koshiyogo in a good mood, chipper even. They're just so bloody happy and enthusiastic all the time. They speak better English than their teachers and they're quick too. Sometimes I think they're better than my senior high school students.

There are probably myriad reasons for their genkiness compared to 'normal' kids. They're surrounded by people who really want to be here to teach them (except of course for me, at least for the first 20 minutes of the morning), they are constantly praised, and are in very safe and colourful surroundings and are taught either one-on-one or two-on-one. Also, lessons are actually fun.
This is almost the opposite of high school where the teachers often end up being assigned the subject they teach (apparently this is why some English teachers can barely speak English - it wasn't their idea...) and they have to be reminded constantly by the local education board to praise and encourage the students: 40 kids spend seven hours a day in the same dreary classroom taught by a conveyor belt of teachers, some of whom cant always remember their names.

This morning when I arrived a very interesting thing happened to me. I was walking from the bus to the 'special' building when a rather short smelly chap said to me, almost in passing “you come here everyday?”
I had to ask him to repeat it because it wasn’t in the normal stuttering vowel-laden English of most Japanese ("hello-oo-wa how-oo-oo are you-oo-oo..." and so on).
“Ah, no, every week,”
“So you are a teacher then?”
"Well yes I am"...and I had a rather odd, yet pleasantly frank, conversation with a 60-odd year old Japanese man –
“I am handicapped you know. In that building there are many handicapped men like me. No, we don’t exercise, we work for Toyota Motor Company.”
Apparently Toyota are making use of the unemployable sector by having them make electronics. In a hospital. Of course I don’t know the full story but I’ll certainly ask him next week when I hopefully see him.

You see! Damn this place; it’s making me positively interested!



On an unrelated note I see Tony Blair's plans for a police state were defeated in the House. Let's hope it turns out all 'John Major' for him: slapped about by the opposition and stabbed in the back by his own party...

The Jumper

On my train to and from school everyday there is a boy I call "The Jumper." Not because he has suicidal tendencies but because he jumps. On the spot. All the time.
His constancy is sometimes reassuring in this crazy town called Japan, other times of course he is absolutely maddening. However, the effect he has on me is dependent on my morning mood, which fluctuates wildly.

So, The Jumper (for it is he) is about 17 years old and very special needs. A common scene on the morning run is him doing laps around the train station concourse, or side skipping up and down the length of the platform. Sometimes he dashes wildly out of the station and halfway down the road, only to turn around and look slightly confused as to how he got all the way down there and dash back. More often though he is jumping on the spot, much like a footballer stuck in an endless loop of headers. It's fun when he does it on the actual train too. Rocking trains: fun. He looks like a sweet enough kid, not actually dangerous (apart from that latent threat of strength which a lot of special needs kids tend to have) and he's always cheerful. At least, he is always grinning wildly (trying my best to avoid the word 'maniacal' - oops, there it is).

He's one of many people with special needs in Toyama, who seem to have more than their fair helping. Something to do with a water pollution scandal back in the 60s. I teach at a special school on Thursdays and the bus I get there is always crammed with severely handicapped people. This is why the water in Toyama is much lauded as "Oiishi Mizu" ("Delicious Water") by the tourist board, to distract attention from the stigma of poisoning half their population. And here's me thinking when I first came here that everybody was being ironic (because really, it's nasty).

Not too much of this.....

I was so excited - the best in the world versus the best of Europe! How I hyped it up to the myriad Americans that seem to surround me. How I waxed poetic on the exciting spectacle that surely lay in front of us. How I danced with joy when I found a bar that we could go to for it. I am of course talking about Wales vs New Zealand.

Well, we all know what happened so I'm not going to go there. Anyway, I got incredibly drunk before during and afterwards and fell off my bike on the way home. I had "borrowed" a bike from the bike shed in Sunshine, one of those tiny things that look like you can fold up and pop in your pocket, and tried to a come stop sideways after zooming across a road only to totally buckle, go over the handlebars and end up sprawled on my back. Hurt my knee rather as well. Brad and Lucy (thems what were enticed by my propagandizing) laughed thier arses off.

The weekend wasn't a total bust though. Had some lovely Italian wines at a newly discovered wine bar, almost got blown into the path of a tram by some freakish winds, and had some more wine in a restaurant atop one of the tallest buildings in Toyama. I was also introduced to the joys of the morning mimosa - basically a bottle of champagne and orange juice with breakfast. Cleared up the hangover wonderfully (and was a major factor in the next morning's as well).

A young girl had what they call and "episode" in my class today. Or what I like to call an "eppy". When I was in high school we called them "Andrew Tarr."

When I asked her to come up to the board she started backing away and flapping her hands. I thought she was special needs or had personal space issues (which in this sardine-can of a country I can understand) because she kept freaking out when I came near. It turns out that she does indeed have issues, but one of them seems to be my "perfume."

Basically - I smell bad.

I, of course, smell like a fresh summer's day and Old Spice's best, but this apparantly is abhorrent to this small girl's dog-like nose..... (and maybe it is: having smelled some of the other teachers here maybe my smell is the exact opposite of what they're used to....pheewww). She's a bit of a nut apparantly. Last year she leapt at a trainee-teacher's throat. She's a bit of a loneras well; doesn't really have any friends and prefers to sit on her own reading. Hates the whole group thing (she really is buggered in Japan). Her grades are great though - I looked back to see what I've given her and she's one of the best in the class. My teacher's advice was "she is very strange. Keep away."

I asked him after the lesson if I do indeed smell and bless him if he didn't stick his nose in my armpit, inhale deeply, and say in a sweet comforting voice "Jeeeeeezus Chrrrrist!"

When us they were now.

A lot of my "job" is marking homework. It normally starts out like this: the first paper I will mark properly, making corrections where necessary and giving little bits of useful advice. The second paper I'll do much the same, correcting the same mistakes and giving the same advice. By the fourth paper I'm just correcting. By the eighth or ninth I am scoring the page in big red slashes. I don't bother with the other 243 that I have to get through until the next day, when it starts all over again.

Often an entire sentence will be made up of prepositional verbs. Or entirely of nouns.

No matter how many times I try to correct them they never seem to be able to get it. This is because they've been taught that way since the were even smaller than they are now.