2002-06-25 - 11:21 p.m.
On Friday my co-JET Lynn had an interesting idea: to make 1,000 paper cranes for our Board of Education as a thank you gift for their support over the past year. As you probably know, tradition says that if a sick person folds 1,000 cranes, they will become well. The gift of 1,000 cranes can symbolize good luck and thanks. After doing the math, we figured that if we each folded 25 cranes a day, 5 days a week for the next 4 weeks, we could pull it off. On Saturday I bought an enormous amount of origami paper, popped in a couple of videos and with Saori’s help, set to work on my 500. It’s kind of like knitting or shelling beans -- repetitive, but in a rhythmic, meditative sort of way.
This week the ninth graders are reading a story in their English textbooks about two children who die during the bombing of Hiroshima. The story, which pops up out of nowhere after a typically vapid “would you like another piece of cake” dialogue, is meant to be accompanied by a video. The video shows current-day footage of Hiroshima and the peace memorials before a stagey reenaction of the textbook story. Both the video and the textbook make generous use of the passive voice to avoid having to name the country responsible for the bombing. The text reads, “On the morning of that day, a bomb fell on the city of Hiroshima.” The video’s narrator solemnly intones, “At 8:15 AM on August 6, 1945, a bomb was dropped on the city of Hiroshima.” No mention of America, no mention of a war at all. Even simplified for the purposes of a foreign language class, these seem like important details in a historical overview of the event. During the video, I overheard one student ask another, “Who did it?” “I’m not sure,” replied his friend.
As I learn Japanese I can overhear and understand more and more of what the students are saying amongst themselves. “Speak English,” one girl urged her friend today as I helped out at cleaning time. “I can’t speak English. I’m not Yuko, you know!” the friend snapped back. Yuko, is of course, the class smarty-pants. Last week during a class I saw a girl in the back row drawing a rather unflattering portrait in her notebook. It depicted a girl in pigtails with copious amounts of hair sprouting from her nose. “Who is that?” I asked her. “It’s a secret... but she’s sitting in the first row, third seat from the right.” she answered. “Is she your friend?” I asked. “No way! I hate her!” the artist snarled, rolling her eyes, “But it’s a secret, okay?” Being able to understand a bit of Japanese is like having a light turned on, albeit a very dim one. It feels like I’m still in the dark about 80% of the time, but it’s still a very different view than I had eleven months ago.
Even though I’ve been in the schools for nearly a year, things still surprise me. As I’ve mentioned before, the school I’m at now has a fair share of “bad” kids, mostly what seems like a gang of about 3 or 4 boys in every ninth-grade class. Today I was teaching first period and one of these boys strolled in about fifteen minutes late. We heard him coming down the hall long before he opened the door. Dragging his feet on the ground, his shoes smacked against the floor with each step because he hadn’t pulled them all the way on and laced them properly. He slid open the door with a bang, threw his bag in the general direction of the cubbies, slammed a stack of textbooks down on his desk and slid into his seat. For this behavior, the teacher smiled at him, said good morning, and told him that he was late. Then she continued with the lesson. Afterwards, I asked her if students got in trouble for being late. “Get in trouble?” she asked, genuinely mystified. “He just woke up late.” If only my first period AP English teacher had been as forgiving, I wouldn’t have been within one tardy of not graduating.
Punctuality is strongly emphasized here. Meetings always start on time. If you’re a minute late for the train, you won’t catch it. So why no punishment for tardiness? Like other forms of misbehavior which go unreprimanded here, the natural consequence of the offense is supposed to be both punishment and deterrent enough. Students, not teachers, are held responsible for students’ education, and the dual pressures to succeed and to conform to the group are supposed to be sufficient motivators for good behavior. When I was in school, teachers used impart this very philosophy at the top of their lungs. I’m remembering a certain pre-calculus teacher, a 30-year veteran of the public school system: “LISTEN PEOPLE! I can’t make you learn here, people! I’m not getting paid to yell at you! If you people don’t want to listen, that’s FINE WITH ME, but don’t come crying to me when you FAIL THE TEST!” In Japan, these sentiments are implied, but they go completely unsaid. Back in America, the irony is that this noble speech was usually followed by a string of detentions. Ultimately, the same teacher who said that we were responsible for our own education would feel the need to spur our internal motivation with a good, solid punishment. Despite many people’s idea of Japanese school kids being obedient robots, they are just as obnoxious as their American peers. The bigger difference is the teachers -- I’m still not used to the lack of yelling. By the way, if it had come down to that last tardy, I’m sure I could have talked my way into graduating.
