Monday, December 17, 2012

Moon Island and Six-Tree Hills

As we walked down the terra-yellow, slate stone walkway towards the illuminated plaza below, Matthew mused probably more to himself and the space around him than to anyone in particular, "tonight was fun; we should do it again."

This was entirely true. It felt like we were walking in the midst of a floating world, where trivial things like time and cost have no relative bearing. Where jokes and good times go down like shots of whiskey, which burn bright and warm in the otherwise sharp and cutting cold. Where everything takes on a fond, amber glow, and yesterday and tomorrow seem so far away that they almost will never matter any more.

We had taken a mid-morning train into Southern Tokyo. One of our teacher friends at 市立柏 was performing at a recital in Kachidoki (勝ちどき), an upscale area swathed in new money. So, dressed to the nines (or, in our case, 6 or 7 out of 9) we made a day of it, as we drifted from one swanky scene to the next, finding our way through romantic happenstance to Nishinaka Street in the Tsukishima (月島) district, another landfill project dredged from the depths of Tokyo Bay, famous for its surfeit of monjayaki (もんじゃ焼き) and okonomiyaki (お好み焼き) shops.

Eventually we ambled our way to the upscale areas of 六本木, Mid-Town and Roppongi Hills, to take in their Christmas "Illuminations" and rub elbows with the rest of Tokyo's young and affluent.

2012-12_Roppongi001

It has actually been a while since I've been on any trips of any length. Not even these kinds of short, one-day excursions that literally defined every weekend of my first year in Japan. That isn’t to say that I haven’t been traveling. A few weeks ago I boarded the bus for my first trip to Chiba City. Granted, that bus was the school bus and the trip was pretty much a business/field-trip to chaperone students to their 県大会. But now I can say that I've been there twice!

"I do miss this sort of adventuring," I remarked. Yet I really do love the things that I have been doing with 部活動 and, unfortunately, that means that I have to choose. But when I find myself at school every single day of the week, it's easy to see how small my world can seem to become sometimes.

And yet small doesn’t necessarily mean bad. It just means that I have to be much more intentional about exploring the places that I find myself in. In remembering to stop and try that quiet looking soba shop I pass by on my way from the bus stop before I walk into the bento shop on my way home. In planning to arrive an extra forty minutes earlier to walk through that small shrine I always see on the bus ride to school. It’s the same here as it is everywhere: I have to be intentional about setting aside time for myself to explore the more interior spaces of places and ideas.

I love traveling. In fact, I'd put traveling on my short list of "greatest things I can do with my free time," right along side of coming across a killer "shuffled" playlist on iTunes, knocking out rounds of the "Weekend Dungeon" in Puzzles and Dragons, and avoiding those putrescent puke-piles Tokyo-ites call "もんじゃ焼き".

It's just now I'm doing a different kind of traveling. I've been pouring myself into a different kind of tourism. The intimate, daily grind of 部活 and 武道 has become an essential part of my own daily grind and is an invaluable aspect of my personal experience of cultural exchange. But it needs be remembered that tourism has it's value, that the material aspect helps root and tether the abstract and etherial.

It's odd to think that the floating ephemera of Tsukishima and Roppongi Hills can tie or bind anything other than one's credit score, but the tangible and historical helps remind me that every narrative exists in a gritty, complex network, the kind of multifariousness that systems-of-thought and critical theory can oftentimes gloss over or white-wash for the sake of harmony and coherence. Even in Japan. Especially in Japan.

So, for now, I will revel in Matthew's experiences; a conduit through which I can renew my own experiences of unfamiliar tangible forms of Japan.

Thursday, December 6, 2012

My Future Job (SJ: 12/05)

三年生 - A(2):
I want to be an astronaut in the future. I like space so I want to go to space. Therefore, I have to start studying about space science. I don't know about space. If I can go to space, I want to do a space-walk.

I'm interested in planets. I like Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. I'd like to study about planets. I'd like to experience zero-gravity.

On the other hand, the bad thing is space food. I don't have a good image about space food.

If I want to be an astronaut, I should study about Mars then people can live on Mars in the future.

It is difficult for me to be an astronaut, so I want to be an English teacher.

Monday, December 3, 2012

Coping with Struggle

Nick, let me tell you a story…

When I was in junior high I was enrolled in an honors math program. One day I was caught in the midst of an elaborate cheating ring. I'm not quite sure whether the teacher knew how elaborate the cheating actually was, or that it may or may not have been me that started it. However, I learned an important lesson that day: if you're not going to give it your best you might as well not try.

At least this is the cardinal rule for cheating...



As if peering down the darkened shaft of the well, all the darkness reflected back, I stared unknowing the true depth of the water below.

Through all of high school and much of college I was very frustrated with who I was and afraid of what I would become since nothing seemed to come easy to me. This seemed especially the case since everyone else appeared to have at least one talent or skill they relied upon to define themselves by. Because it seemed it was all I could do I did a lot of waiting, perhaps not so patiently, in the hopes that one day I would find that one thing that was supposed to come naturally. I just knew that if I could find my one gift--the talent promised to everyone of faith and conscience
1I have Dr. Ken Berding to thank for helping me to see how in so many indirect ways my conventional interpretation of Spiritual Gifts had frustrated and stagnated my growth.
1--everything would settle into its rightful place.

But no amount of scrimping or scraping through majors or hobbies would reveal to me this gift, no amount of digging would unearth this talent. Rather everything was an unending series of rough starts and failures. So, to me, it was only a matter of time that everyone else would eventually notice my consistent failure, read into my frustration incompetence, and perceive the inevitable cause as stupidity and inadequacy.

After all, it is known that people do smart things because they are smart: dumb people do dumb things because they are dumb. It is the natural order.

A few weeks ago, Matthew forwarded me an interesting NPR blog
2A light sociological anecdote masquerading as clinically researched reporting.
2 about the differing approaches towards education that result from the differences in how "Western" and "Asian" educators perceive the nature of struggle in relation to intelligence and ability.

The crux of the article was an examination of how, in the West, children are taught that ability is the result of innate talent, and though it is never directly stated to children, one cannot help but make the logical leap to read "struggle" as "failure to obtain innate and easy success" and, therefore, is seen as incompetence.

Asian cultures, they argue, appreciate ignorance and incompetence as the natural state of origin. Failure is the logical and necessary result of ignorance. Struggle, then, is not indicative of one's ultimate level of aptitude, ability or adroitness, but a temporary state of being that can be overcome with 頑張ろう.

I suppose, then, that the differences in perspectives can best be illustrated with the Spanish copulas ser and estar. Ser is used when discussing grammatical complements that are intrinsic to the subject as an essential component of its character, while estar is used to describe more transient, temporary characteristics, such as emotions.

In this example, when a teacher calls someone バカ (which, on more than one occasion, I have observed first hand) it is a commentary on a temporary state of being
3生徒はバカestá.
3 of the student in question. Unlike in America, this would be a remark against the student's permanent character (a character flaw that acts as the original cause of such stupid behavior). In Japan, this is an acknowledgement of the stupidity of their current state: what they are doing and how they are doing it is currently foolish; consequently, the implication is that, through hard work, this behavior can and should be rectified, allowing the student to overcome the struggle and rid himself of such stupidity.

When I shared this article with some of my adult students, they remarked on how the common thought in Japan is that all children are born equal. For the most part, every child is essentially the same blank slate. Therefore, any diversity in end-product is a direct result of how much work the child pushes
4Or is pushed.
4 to persevere through struggle.

That, while Western parents would marvel at the immense talent of a 9 year old violin prodigy, the Japanese mother is insistent in attributing the success of the child to the 5 years of hard work rather than any mere, arbitrary, innate ability or proclivity.

As such, if ability and proficiency is directly attributable to effort, stupidity is, obviously, a result of a lack of effort. If you are struggling with science, the trick is to try harder. If you have trouble with math, just try again and again. And if your drawing is cockeyed, the same rule applies.

And while there is a definite lack of consideration of other exigent factors
5A system that virtually ignores the efficacy of educational programs or issues that arise from socioeconomic differences.
5, there is a lot that I can remember to take from this model before discarding it in favor of my selfish, American laziness.



Each prefecture in Japan has its own 柔道初段 review board, and each board has its own testing requirements. Luckily for me 千葉県 doesn't require a written test like some. However, they do require the performance of 9 standard 形 and a low-stakes 試合.

Among the simple techniques that are tested are two basic throws, 背負い投げ, an over-the-back throw, and 払い腰, which is a torsion based roll over the hip. And even though I'm new to judo, I can tell you which of the two throwing techniques I would be able to do without much trouble. I'm sure they know this, so you can guess which of the two they want me to learn first.

I used to take losing very personally, as if losing was a public performance if my inadequacy. So it would be a complete untruth to claim that I no longer mind sucking. So it would also be a lie if I said that the past few weeks have been anything less than a trial.

Whether it is from just being worn down and tired, carbon monoxide poisoning from the kerosene room heaters, or the standard U-Shaped acquisition curve, things just haven't been clicking. Despite the 三年生's encouragements and positive feedback, between the technical aspects of the 方, physical weariness, and the nexus of verbal commands--"リラックス" and "チャンス"--nothing seems to be working.

Actually, the embarrassment of sucking doesn't get to me so much anymore. I mean, it's factually true that I suck; I expect to. It's only natural. Sure it's frustrating to still be sub-functional
6And now it sounds like hedging..
6, but I don't think anyone else is expecting me to be much beyond that level yet, so it's absurd to expect myself to be. What is the biggest bother is that I feel that my suckiness is a burden that others are made to bear.

Anyway, last night was the end to a moderately mild week of practice since the coming weekend was the prefectural tournament. Because of this, I also knew that it would be a hard week for me since there'd be a lot more "free time" in practice, meaning that 小原 would have extra time to work me into the rotation.

Earlier 小原 had given me an impromptu list of things he wanted me to try to remember to do, and when I started I was fully committed to trying to do those things, probably to the detriment of the overall "success" of my performance. But by the end I was a little beyond being worried about that. By the time the buzzer sounded, weary and sore, I was not so much indifferent about the results as I was just glad to have survived the 乱取り. So I was surprised to be told by Ukyo that 小原先生 was talking to me. Or at me.
『ケビン、良かった。いいだった。』
So that's that, then…