Sunday, July 30, 2006

And now, Part 2

Having said what I’ve said in the last blog (my Mr. Hyde blog) and in the fifty other blogs before it, you might be tempted to conclude that the experience I had here was not a good one. That would be wrong. My year in Japan with the JET program was undeniably worth it, and was one of the very best years of my life for one reason and one reason alone: The people. It’s true that in my year in Japan I have stumbled across moments of almost unbearable beauty, quick flashes of poignancy and ancient culture that have astounded me in their power, and, unfortunately, in their briefness. But in the end, the JET program, like so many other things in life, is made or broken by the people involved in it. For me, the people made it all worth it.

I’ll be honest, when I signed up for this gig almost two years ago, I was convinced that if I actually got in, I would be surrounded by wierdos. The bad kind of wierdos. The kind that dwell in the opposite extremes of personality types: They either make every conversation painfully awkward because they live completely under the radar, never making decisions and always lingering about like a barfly, contributing absolutely nothing to the social makeup of the group, or the other extreme, where they compensate for their insecurities by going way overboard, yelling all the time and jumping about like jackasses saying “look at me! Look at me! I’m sooooo drunk!” or some such nonsense that makes you just want to hit them so very, very hard.

To my complete delight, I found myself surrounded by the good kind of wierdos. The kind that know their limits, and that know the proper times in which to break them. The kind of people that are very aware of themselves and where they stand in life. The kind with super dry senses of humor, that know about timing, not just in comedy, but in life. Not even in college, where I was surrounded by literati, did I meet such a unique group of forward thinking, gutsy individuals. Every one of them had a serious pair of brass balls on ‘em (or brass fallopian tubes, whatever the case may be). I feel privileged to have lived and worked amongst such a diverse crowd of kickass people. That type of environment doesn’t come around a whole hell of a lot, and I tried to take advantage of it as I could. Time will tell if I got anything out of it, but I’m pretty sure I did.

I’d also like to say that I felt very blessed to have worked with the Koho High School Staff. Don’t get me started about the Japanese school system, but the staff I worked with and hung out with I was very happy with. I had heard nightmare stories about the Japanese workplace, and I am happy to say that Koho never lived up to any one of them. I didn’t think such a laid-back job existed in Japan, and aside from that one at Koho, I’m still not sure they do. The staff treated me with a type of deference and respect that was never aloof, and always welcoming and friendly, and for that, I thank them all (while praying that none of them ever get a hold of this blog to read that thanks)

Obata, my supervisor, saved my life in that country. I owe him every shred of sanity I managed to maintain, and can source him for my general state of wellbeing throughout the program. Good, honest, thoughtful, hilarious, selfless people like him are a rarity in life. I hope he gets out of that school before they kill him. He deserves much more general contentment than his current job can give him.


And that’s that, Dear Reader, we’ve come to the end of this chapter. It’s time to move on to the next. Whatever that may be, rest assured that should you feel the need, you can read up on my lack of progress right here.


Thanks for hangin’ with me.

-BBG

Well, we’ve come to it at last. The Final Japan Blog. Or I should say Final Couple of Blogs. I was conflicted as to how I should approach this whole thing, and after much deliberation and drinking that didn’t necessarily have anything to do with said deliberation, I have decided to split my entry into two totally different voices in which I concentrate the bad and the good. Since I am of two minds about my Japanese experience, it is only natural that I give voice to both of those minds.

To that end, I give you the final entry of this chapter of my life. Since overall I viewed the experience as positive, I will give air to that mind last. It is only fitting. Enjoy.



Part 1:

Well, sure is easy to say I had a wonderful time in Japan whilst sitting here at home, watching television, drinking a freezing Fat Tire I got from my huge refrigerator, and eating no fewer than three medium Dominos Pizzas I got delivered right to my face for less than twenty dollars. Sure is easy now, isn’t it? Sure is easy to look at all the Oriental hooey I brought back and fondly reminisce, that’s for damn sure. Reeeeeaaal easy to flip through smiling pictures of me and my friends, drunk, laughing, and think “well hell, that was just one big peach of a time. A regular fucking cakewalk.” And when I pass all my smiling pictures about and people say “you got paid 30,000 dollars to do this?!?” It sure is easy to go “I know! What a lucky break! To get paid so well to live in another country and do practically nothing!”

But that’s just the problem, isn’t it? I did practically nothing for an entire year. No, that’s not totally true, I did drink a lot.

Bryan and I decided to do a whirlwind tour of red-light districts before we left town, we went from Toyama’s own not-at-all famous Sakura Gicho district to Tokyo’s very famous Roppongi district, and then over to Seoul’s equally famous Itaewon district, and after our 42nd straight hour of traveling/drinking Bryan turned to me and said “for the two years I’ve been here, my body has aged ten.”

I figure that’s about right. I read those sappy JET essay contest winners where some or other kid writes something like “I may have lived here for three years, but I have had experiences enough for a thousand.” Not this guy. I lived in Japan for one year and had experiences enough for one year. My body has had experience enough for five. That’s the bottom line.

The other day someone (maybe it was my Aunt) asked me “what did you learn in Japan?” I thought about this for a moment, scruffy, a tad dizzy from JET lag, and answered,

“I learned that I hate teaching.”

And if you are thinking, “Well Brad, if you didn’t go out and do anything else that’s your own fault, isn’t it? There was Judo, or Kendo, or Flower Arranging, or Archery, or you could have gotten involved in your school’s English club, or taken Japanese lessons, there were a million opportunities.”

I say this: No there weren’t. Not if you’re a normal dude there weren’t. I took Japanese for five years before I realized it was a lost cause, so that was never an option. And my kids would never, ever, ever, have an English club. God Bless ‘em, but they were just too stupid. And also, fuck you buddy, you’re not the kind of guy I want to talk to anyway.

Now that I am home here, and I look about myself at all the fat people and the huge cars and the fifty lane highways and the Taco Bells and the Mega Malls and the no-trash separating, I think one thing: The US is better than Japan.

Why anyone would want to move away from here and stay over there for the rest of their lives is just beyond my ability to comprehend. And there are a few of you out there. I can see you right now, with your complete Gundam Anime collection and your stacks of Manga, and your walls plastered with pictures of famous woodblock prints. You probably have that ridiculous little staff you got climbing Mt. Fuji propped up in the corner too, don’t you? That one that has all of those brands on it that cost you ten bucks a pop? Maybe you have your name written out in Kanji hanging above your bed, or even worse, somewhere on your own skin, and I’m sure you have a thousand other Kanji flash cards strewn about your bedroom so that should someone come in you can go, “oh, that? That means spirit,” and then smile knowingly. Every book you read is Murakami, and you’ve probably seen Lost in Translation a thousand times and make snooty little comments when watching it like “Oh, I’ve been there” or “I can read that sign,” and I’m sure you think you can “totally identify” with Bill Murray. You’re a Lifer in the Making. What the hell are you thinking? You have to realize that the Japanese will never let you in. You know what that means? That means that no matter what you do, no matter how fluent you are in the language, or how many banzai trees you clip up real pretty, or how much of a badass Judo Blackbelt master you are, they still will never trust you.

In the year 2000, the Japanese government granted citizenship to 15,000 people. That’s it. That’s a pretty good indicator right there of how little they want you there. You know how many people the US granted citizenship to? Almost 900,000. Now you might be saying, “The US is a much bigger country!” and you would be right, but France isn’t, and even France took in 150,000 people. France! Or how about this: Throughout the 90’s, the US took in 47% of all people seeking asylum. Japan? 9%. Real nice there guys. Nicely done. The consummate hosts.


How many non-native citizens have we here in the US? Well shit. I lost count. They almost outnumber the natives! Hell, I arrived here in LA and was directed to my baggage by a nice fellow whom I could barely understand. And you know what? That’s great. Fine with me! At least he spoke something, and provided he wasn’t here illegally, more power to him! More power to them all! Especially the Mexicans! They have great food and beer. Do you see what I am saying? Do you see how ridiculous it is in Japan?

And for a country that is so paranoid about foreigners, they certainly love foreign cultures. When I think about what I enjoyed doing in Japan, here is what I think of:

Sipping a Martini (western drink) at the Jazz Bar (western music) and smoking a cigar (from the Dominican Republic)

Drinking (Italian) wine at the (Italian) Fiorentina Restraunt.

Eating (Indian) food at Santoshi

Bowling (Western)

Ramen (Chinese)

Yakiniku (Korean)

I think you get the point. And now that I look at this list I made, I wonder how the hell I could have spent twenty thousand dollars on that.

I honestly think it’s the physical act of moving oneself that keeps many of the people in Toyama. I bet if it weren’t for the fact that it is a huge bitch to get up and go, a whole lot more people would have got up and went. The turnover rate of that ken would be like a McDonald’s.

So thank you Japan, really, thank you very much for something. I just haven’t figured out what yet.

Saturday, July 15, 2006

Many of you back home still don't believe that some Japanese students can sleep right in your face and not care. It is with you doubters in mind that I present this montage, aptly entitled "Teaching at Koho"


Are you sleeping...

Are you sleeping...
Brother John?
Brother John?
Morning Bells Are Ringing...
Morning Bells Are Ringing...
Ding Dang Dong...

Ding Dang Dong...

Friday, July 07, 2006

I’m really reaching for lessons here in the home stretch. For the past four days I’ve been teaching my kids how to play poker, that’s how bad it is. It’s really hard to make a lesson out of Poker that these kids would follow. At first I thought about adding and subtracting the numbers on the cards for some sort of Numbers Lesson, but that would never hold their attention. Then I thought about making it a lesson on Royal Vocabulary, and even tried it out in one class, but the dialogue went something like this:

Me: “See this K? What’s that stand for?”
Class: “King!”
Me: Great! And see this Q? What’s that stand for?”
Class: “Queen!”
Me: “Great! See? Royal Vocabulary! It’s like a court! And next we have a J! What’s a J?”
Class: …
Me: It’s a Jack!
JTE Co-Teacher: “What’s a Jack?”
Me: Well…It’s, uhm…It’s like a man. A royal man!”
JTE: “A king?”
Me: “No, not quite. Just….(cough)….And look at this! It’s a Joker!”

I decided to forego stressing the Royal Vocabulary part of the lesson after that, and start calling it what it is. This is the worksheet I made up to that effect:

It went as well as could be expected. I only had one of my decks stolen right out from under my nose, so yeah, I’m not quite sure whether to be pissed or happy about that. And for fifteen year old Japanese kids who can’t spell their names without help, I saw a surprising number of Flushes, Straights, and Full Houses, so that was interesting as well. I now have at least two classes of kids yammering to play poker, though. One kid was even yelling for it non-stop until I told him to shut up. Even so, I hope that Burness, my successor, somehow works card strategy into the final exam. Hell, it might actually serve some of these kids better than English will.


In other news, today was my turn to make a speech to the general assembly of students and teachers. The burden rotates amongst all of the teachers throughout the year, and today was me.

This is the speech I made up, roughly translated:

Not so long ago, I was in High School myself. My school was large, around 3000 kids. there were “cool” groups, and “nerdy” groups, and there were groups of “smart kids” that hung out together, and groups of troublemakers that hung out together. In some ways, every High School is the same.

In every school there are popular kids, and there are quiet kids. There are kids that are active in clubs, and kids that prefer not to take part
in clubs. Each student is unique. But in many ways, you are all the same. Each one of you is just trying to get by and grow up. I hope you realize that all of you are going through these teenage years at the same time, with many of the same triumphs, and many of the same defeats.

The key to having a good time in High School is to be what I call a “Social Chameleon.” A chameleon is a lizard that can blend in well with anything. Be like a Chameleon, adapt well to different groups. To do this, you have to be accepting of all of them. If you can do this, then one day, at the end of High School, you will look around yourself and see that you are surrounded by friends, and that all of them respect you. Then you are a success.


High School should be a time to focus and learn, but don’t take it too seriously. Stop to enjoy everything, because it will be over before you know it.


I wanted to say:

Can’t you all just take it easy, man? I mean for Chrissakes, just take it easy!

But that was well under my suggested four minute timeframe.


My speech was inspired by the disturbing and subversive trend of exclusivity I’ve seen at times in this country. You pick a group and stick with it for life out here. You are defined by it. A salaryman is a salaryman for life. A Badboy Pimp is a Badboy Pimp until he’s either dead or has to be committed because his gonorrhea has driven him crazy and he can no longer make cognisant pimping decisions. Your group defines you, you are part of it and no other. Exclusion from that group is akin to a type of death. I just read this article about this poor Japanese fella that got kidnapped in Iraq and, thankfully, was recently returned unharmed. Now, don’t get me wrong, the guy was an idiot to be traipsing around Iraq, but can you imagine the homecoming he would have gotten in the US after returning home alive?!? There would be tears of joy and the PBR would flow like water, which it basically is.

Not in Japan. In Japan the guy was ostracized. Kicked out of his community for getting kidnapped in the first place. It was viewed as a shameful thing. One of my JTE’s pointed at the article and shook her head.

“That’s terrifying,” she said, “that we do that here.”

At the same time, the Japanese now officially are the world’s oldest population. 21% of the country are now over 65 years old. 21%!!! The exclusivity of this country and its declining birthrate are connected. If the Japanese were more accepting of other people in general, there’d be a lot more fuzzy-bumpin’ going on, and a lot more chitlins poppin’ out. If you know what I mean.

Here’s a recent headline that says it all:


Wait a minute. How’d that pen get in there?


I'd like to leave you with a little slice of life experience I just had with my 1E class, the brightest class that I teach.

Every day I ask three questions: The Day, The Date, and the Weather. Today was no different.

"What day is it?"
"FRIDAY!" one of them yells out.

"And what is the date?"
"JULY 7th!" another says.

"And how about the weather today?" I ask, pointing out to the skies.
A particularly smart rogue by the name of Yutaro looks up at me:

"IT'S RAINING TAEPODONG MISSLES!" he yells, and then bursts out laughing.

An interesting generation of kids, no?