弓道 in 柏

Nick, it's not the article I wanted; it's the article I deserved.

We have been in a bit of a crunch at work. I've even had to cancel my gym membership because I haven't had time to go. This will mark the first time since before compulsory PE at Biola that I will be without a membership to any sort of fitness center.

Then again, 先生 would say it would all work out. That is if he ever said anything other than "you're doing it wrong."

That being neither here nor there, what you need to know is that I found out that I was now taking 書道 and am somehow running the English Conversation Club

¹± "into the ground."

¹, all while managing to fall behind in my writing for TSCA despite starting my article two weeks ago. I just haven't had the time to vet the information. Or make it interesting. Or readable.

But, hey, I did just get "The Very Best of Daryl Hall & John Oates

²Remastered.

²." Oh yeah, I'm back on the Yacht Rock!

Anyway, so what to write about? Especially if I've spent the last 19 consecutive days at Ichikashi…


Every couple of days you'll see them walking to or from 北柏駅, replete in traditional Japanese clothing with a bow in tow, slung across their back in a leather case like a pool cue or a fishing rod. For the longest time I had no clue who they were, what they were doing, or why they were doing it in or around Kita-Kashiwa. That is until I figured out that the giant building on the other side of Teganuma was the 柏立中央 Gymnasium: one of the biggest municipal gyms in Kashiwa city.

When Ken and I checked it out in June, we were told that they had daily basketball leagues, two or three halls of semi-competitive (to highly-competitive) ping pong tables, three dojos (for judo, kendo and/or karate), a sumo stable that housed children's sumo lessons on the weekends, and a competition-size kyudo range.

Kyudo. Of course.

---

胴造り. 引分け. 会. 離れ. 残心.

Actually, in all, there are eight formal steps to 弓道 (kyudo), traditional Japanese archery. Each of the eight steps, from the initial placing of the foot (足踏み)--breathe in, breathe out--to the readying (弓構え) and raising (打起し) of the bow--breathe in, breathe out--to the final release, is deliberate and drawn. And despite it's inherent violence, there is a remarkable peace that covers the 弓道場 like a thick woolen blanket. Silent but for the twang of the long, uneven wooden bow and the hiss of the arrow and breath of the archer.

Even though the sharp cries of kendo peeled across the empty lot, carried into the open-air hall on the soft, early autumn breeze, it was hard to ignore the sacredness of the space radiating with a thoughtfulness that, like light splashing into the humid dark of the night air, cascaded out onto the soft grass range below. It felt wrong to move or speak. It even felt invasive to be there to watch.

Though standard ranges, from hall to 的場 (target house), can span up to 60m, the length of the range at 柏立中央体育館, we were told, was just about 28m, or what is termed a "short" matoba. As it was, the archers we had the privilege of watching were struggling with 10- and 20-kilogram 弓, bows that seemed "just right" for a range of under 30m.

"構いません," we were told. "It does not matter."

Photo illicitly obtained from benoist via Flickr.

As it is with all of the 武道 sports, there is as much emphasis placed on moral and spiritual development as there is on physical accomplishment and mastery. In fact, the first words of explanation out of 先生's mouth were all about the spiritual components of 弓道. Well, that's what Matthew told me. Of everything he said, I understood no more than 6 words. One of them was "かまいません."

Kyudo, we were told, was as much stoic, contemplative meditation-in-action as it was the violent launch of missiles. Actually, the loosing of the arrow from the bow seemed mildly incidental to the entire process. Rather, from the moment the archer places his foot, to the motionless, thoughtful moments after the arrow has rattled itself deep into the 巻藁 bale, the archer is in a still, silent pursuit of the Platonic ideal of 真善美 (shin-zen-bi): truth, goodness and beauty.

To put it simply, the pursuit of shin-zen-bi is the embodiment of the endeavor for and application of truth. Though circumstances and situations are variable, though wind and light may change what the eye sees, when one can see the absolute truth of things as they are, the archer is unperturbed (冴え, さえ: clarity). Practice must then be conducted in trust and faith in the rightness of truth. From that honest pursuit necessarily results in good action, lest the revelation be meaningless. Goodness is this wholehearted intention (誠, まこと: sincerity) of seeking the rightness of action once truth has been revealed. These actions that stem from the solid roots of truth give blossom to the flower of beauty, which is the spiritual goal not just in kyudo, but in all things in the life of the archer (平常心, へいじょうしん: one's presence of mind).

Whether the arrow hits the target is of no matter, 先生 intoned. After all, 正射正中 (せいしゃせいちゅう): correct shooting is correct hitting. "A spirit settled," the Shaho-Kun says, "becomes a harmonious unit."

This is the ideal, from 足踏み to 残心, or the returning to the body from the state of spirit concentration.

Of course that's easy to say when every arrow you loose manages to hit the minuscule 36cm wide target.

一生懸命

I know it's been a while since I've last sat down to write, but things have gotten incredibly busy with work and 部活 and all that.

"All that" also includes breaking in the new ALT

¹The "ALT" title has always kinda irked me in terms of our job and its description relative to similar positions as it has acquired a rather negative, entry-level/slacker connotation. A few months ago I petitioned the principal of the school to recommend that, with the change in positional status a few years ago, there should also be a corresponding change in job title to reflect such differentiation. Now this is probably not that big of a deal to the people of Japan, which was probably why it was easy enough to acquiesce to, but when it comes to describing the job to future employers--as well as to potential recruits--it's important enough to be seen as separate and distinct from among "standard" ALTs. Especially as we are fully licensed teachers with equivalent status.

That being said, we have to figure out what we want to be called. There is an old term, ELT, which stands for English Language Teacher, which, apparently, is an archaic moniker for the position that seems well suited for the task. We might go with that one.

¹. It's too bad because one of my goals for before the new recruit showed up was that I wanted to have a more concrete idea of what my term as ALT/ALT-先輩 would look like. Ever since we first talked about the inevitable end of Ken's term I'd been thinking what my personal vision for the TSCA-ALT program was going to be: the long-term direction I wanted to take my stint at Ichikashi in.

And while I hadn't really gotten around to putting anything in ink yet, I have been thinking it through and adopted a personal motto of sorts that has directed much of my decision-making process for the past few months: 一生懸命, "with all of my being" (all of one's existence at risk).

It's a motto that I used when trying to decide how "invested" I wanted to be when joining 部活, in trying to decide how selfish or generous I wanted to be with my business and personal time, what limits to put on work and work relationships, and whether or not I should assume the publicly humiliating task of dancing at 文化祭 with the other 三年生先生.

          
So this motto has become a de facto strainer through which I have started to filter out tasks and hobbies from among the dross. It was also, I realized last night, a rather handy framework around which to build my ELT-manifesto.

Currently, I have an odd assortment

²I have decided to frame it according to a standard carnalistic-dualist split, as it's simple and doesn't require me to invent a third spoke around which to model.

² of non-assessable goals which, by definition, makes them bad goals. Except in Japan, where unobtainable, non-assessable goals are the norm. After all, if they're un-assessable, they're unassailable! Rather than see them as requirements or achievements, I suppose, they're really more like reminders of what it means to me to 一生懸命 at my job.

一生懸命 Heart

Increase our presence within the Ichikashi-teacher's community, ingratiating ourselves as:

1) Coworkers ("co-sufferers") - attending all school-wide faculty meetings and contributing a positive and involved presence at community functions, events, and extra-curricular activities, especially those that teachers are socially required to participate in.

2) Colleagues - taking an active interest in the working (and personal) lives of teachers both in and out of the Foreign Language office by being intentional with interactions and generous with our time and energy.

一生懸命 Mind

Increase our relevance as a program academically by:

1) Increasing the efficiency of our program - writing an overarching unit-plan for the three major courses (3年生 writing, OCI-2A and OCI Elective) that can be used as the basis for lesson plans (inherited, redesigned or rewritten)--ones that more accurately address the stated needs of each individual program. We would then be able to avoid the constant reduplication of effort and work that occurs on an annual (or even monthly) basis.

2) Increasing the quality of our program output - by having a more efficient planning process, we can spend more effort in improving the accuracy, usefulness and scope of lesson materials--including (but not limited to) teacher outlines or OCI-2A International-Travel "handbook" pages--as well as begin to implement assessment protocols. Finally, by creating space in the annual calendar, we would be able to conduct ongoing training and research into contemporary educational theory, allowing us to incorporate progressive teaching methods, such as multi-media.

3) Increasing the perceptive efficacy of our program - by continuing to address the (felt and programatic) needs of our programs, we would also look to take steps to promote the positive impact that ELTs have on campus. This includes continuing to make concentrated efforts in preparing students for English language testing and university entrance examinations either through direct tutoring or through the introduction of advanced, elective programs, as well as continuing to encourage the English Conversation Club to become a more academically relevant institution by promoting regular and practical English for general and specific purposes (casual--through language projects such as videos, pen pals, and writing--and academic--through assigned/mandatory testing or high-level language use via speech contests). Additionally, we should seek to continue to increase the breadth of impact that the ELT program has on campus through more concerted efforts to use English with and provide services to students not directly impacted by International Courses or ECC.

Personally, I think it's important to recognize the unique mutability of the ELT program that marks it as such a remarkable program within the context of the Japanese public educational system. I find it fascinating the liberties that we are afforded as a program within the normally rigid hegemony of the larger institution and we have been provided, both through neglect and ignorance, a fantastic opportunity to make appreciable changes that can make a real difference in the lives of students academically and interpersonally.

Historically, the TSCA/KIRA-ALT partnership has seen more than its share of strong, smart personalities that have worked to bring the program from its excited beginnings to the luxurious place of honor (and compensation) it currently holds within the immediate Ichikashi community and the broader municipality.

It is my heart's desire

³一生懸命.

³ to add my two cents and a bit of elbow grease and try to leave the program in a better position at the end of my three years.


There are three reasons why I feel so compelled.

The first of which is by far the most tenuous. Over the last couple of years Ichikashi has been blessed to have Suda-校長 at the helm. Actually, the ALT program has had this exorbitantly good fortune as Suda-先生 harbors a not-so-secret love for international education and exchange. But, as the Japanese educational system would have it, he is coming to the end of his stint, having to change schools at the end of the school year in June. Suda-先生 has been a boon to our program (and other such ones like it on campus), and we have been very lucky to have him at our vanguard. And while it is extremely unlikely that the next principal who comes will (or can) do away with our program, it would behoove both me and Matthew (and anyone who comes after us) to ingratiate ourselves to the incoming administrator. That way, when the ELT program and its affiliates come under the scrutiny of a brand new administrative eye, we would be above reproach in terms of relational and fiscal economy.

Speaking of relational and fiscal economy, one thing that has been crossing my mind recently

⁴And this is number two.

⁴ was the difference in how I treat this job and how I treated my previous job. Really, I cannot imagine loving any future job as much as I do this one. Every day I wake up happy to go to work, happy to come home tired on the bus, and happy to look forward to doing it again the next day. As true as all that is, this has more to do with how I now realize how ungrateful I was about my last job.

I liked to talk about how my last job was a godsend. How it practically fell into my lap "just in time" so that I didn't have to declare hardship on my loans, and how it subsisted through my four years of indentured servitude. But I was far from in love with the job. And at times my behavior made that quite clear.

I constantly think about how ungrateful I behaved. How ungrateful I seemed. How ungrateful I was. And it makes me sad to think that I put my coworkers and bosses through that. So it isn't with temerity that I send my thanks and well wishes to them. And yet it is that same heavy-heartedness that I carry with me into this job, a job I love passionately.

In a way, since it defies physics to go back in time and fix my attitude

⁵And, conveniently, my core desire to move on from that job.

⁵, I am trying to make up for my double-douche-bagginess by double-loving the job I have now.

There were really ever only two reasons. But I figured that if you had prepared to drudge through three reasons that you'd be so much happier knowing that you were done that much earlier.

Anyway, that's all I have for now. I'm working on a post which should be up in a couple of weeks. So, until then, また、ね。