Children

Disclaimer - the author accepts no responsibility for his sounding like an old git.



For years I vowed I would never become a teacher. Children were a nuisance; a noisy, irritating necessity for the preservation of the human race. I`ve changed my mind since actually working with them. I now find them rewarding and not nearly as annoying as I once did. This could be because I can`t understand about 90% of what they`re saying...time will tell on that one.

It`s obvious when you put it into words, but childhood is an interesting and tumultuous period. The speed at which you change from a child into an adult is immense, and I never appreciated it whilst I was going through it.



Aren`t they cute? Who would have thought that these cheerful, energetic, up-for-anything fellows would turn into sullen, smelly, work-shy teenagers? The change during Elementary School is insidiously subtle, starting to take shape in the final year...suddenly some cute kids are noticeably bigger than the ones with further to go. Whilst playing what amounted to a game of tig with thirty Elementary Sixth graders, I sustained probably my first work related injury (a wonky finger). I played the same game with eighty (yes, 80 of the little bastards)First Graders, and walked away without so much as a scratch...although that day I learned the true meaning of "sweaty".



By the time they get to Junior High, the change accelerates alarmingly. When the First Grade started, they were a dazzling wall of bright eyes, bushy tails, yelling "onegaishimasu!" at the start of each lesson, with all the enthusiasm I had in the face of the excitement and slight fear of big school. Of course, as the year goes on, the hormones kick in, they learn from the older students and puberty begins in earnest. Dilligence wanes, certain bits of the body become immensely fascinating, the students become gobby and their mischief takes on a more calculating form. Only the other day I was presented with a plastic bowl of some green substance (complete with floating flower) that a pack of cackling girls assured me was Green Tea. Suspicion wasn`t even warranted. I politely declined the offer, suggesting they drink it instead.



When Sato sensei, the man solely responsible for ALT`s in Kawasaki, said that "Japanese children have no respect", I was reminded of Kitano `Beat` Takeshi`s character in Battle Royale, but he has a point. Maybe it`s a universal phenomenon. It`s particularly evident during the Second Grade of Junior High, roughly 13-15, considered by most teachers to be the hardest year. The school I wrote about in the previous entry is by far my roughest. Last week wasn`t so bad, but I think that`s down to my not having to teach the Second Graders. To be honest, I first visited that school before summer, and having abruptly left my comfortable, safe and familiar life in Bristol to find myself on the other side of the planet, illiterate in a strange country, flung straight into a job I still wasn`t sure about...I think I needed a holiday. Many students who, at that time, horrified me, I now just see as harmless, but cheekier than most. Some students still worry me, especially those who are almost nonchalant in their aggressive rejection of everything on offer



Places like that make me wonder what makes a bad school, especially when ten minutes up the road there`s a really good school. There are probably all sorts of factors; funding, staff and I suppose once serious discipline problems take hold, it`s only a matter of time before the other students follow suit. I`ve actually spoken to some teachers at that school, and they`ve gradually revelead that the problem can be traced to one man; the head of the Second Grade. His manner of dealing with the students is apparently disciplinarian to say the least. It`s difficult to get details across when language and professional tact & courtesy are issues, but it seems that the students feel ill-treated, confused and angry with his methods...hence, in part, the mass rebellion against all other authority figures. The thing is, this man has no contact with the students, unless it`s in the classroom, or the corridor, administering a wagging finger. It`s the Home Room Teachers, in many ways more responsible for the students than the parents, who are left to pick up the pieces. I`ve actually got it comparatively lucky with that school - Ueno san has told me a story about an ALT who got beaten up by three Second Graders because he told them off for eating in class.



By the time they hit the Third Grade, the hormones have calmed down somewhat. They`re starting to form real opinions and becoming more rounded characters. With regards to my subject, by this point their English is pretty good, and they still have a childish sense of humour. My favorite students are the really cheeky boys who can string sentences together, usually obscene, with a degree of confidence. One memorable character constantly introduces his friend as "Mr Masturbation". Troublesome students can`t be bothered to be that disruptive - they`d rather play truant, which is fine by me.

In May, I was giving speaking tests to an entire grade - I mentioned this in the entry for that week, but doing something that repetitive really brings out the characters. One boy in particular stood out. He sat down in front of me, plonked down his score sheet and didn`t say a word. I fired question after question at him, being greeted with stony silence, as he clearly saw no point in learning English, and resented being taught it. Finally I asked him if he could speak English, and he said "No", so I gave him a point. This prompted him to say "No" even more, in protest, whilst he gestured that I remove that point from the score sheet. Even though he was making my job difficult, I admired his defiant stance, as it was so decisive and not remotely malicious. I wonder where he`s going.

A whinge...?

Just before I begin, here`s a few photos from a recent day-trip to Tokyo, relevant for the Sensoji stuff which I neglected to include in the last entry...









The last two are from Ginza, which was apparently one of the first places in Tokyo to Westernise...it makes sense, as this was done off the back of Emperor Meiji (1868-1912) and the Imperial Palace is only up the road. The Meiji period ended the 264 year Edo period, wherein Japan closed its borders to the rest of the world and let its indigenous culture foment. Born of the Komei family, the new fifteen year old Emperor took the title Meiji, meaning "enlightened rule" and embraced Western culture throughout his reign, sometimes called the "Meiji Restoration"(I still find it slightly strange to read Japanese writers talking about "Western Enlightenment"). The Japanese middle classes of that time are satirised in Natsume Soseki`s "I am a Cat", the protagonist observing their foibles with cool feline detachment.

But anyway...

I`ve mentioned the Japanese work ethic before, and touched on the very strong possibility that the long hours put in are a way of keeping face with the group. To leave work early can be embarassing. Not surprising then, that my illustrious employers, being a Japanese/American company are aware of this cultural quirk. Since they are a business first, rather than an educational institution, they wish to groom their product (me) to fit the expectations of their customers (the dilligent teachers), which tends to leave me, once the lessons are over, sitting on my Great British backside, invariably twiddling my thumbs, waiting for 17:15, or to be told I can go home. I don`t intend this blog to be a pedestal from which to complain, but this entry was conceived whilst I was doing just that.

The thing is, once in a Blue Moon, a teacher will say to me "There are no more classes today Chris. You can go home." The other thing is that after 14:30 EVERY DAY, there are no classes. Some days are more special than others, it would seem...

Now JET ALT`s on the other hand appear to have it very sweet. JET is a joint program between the Japanese government and sundry counterparts in the "West" (although Australia is included). They do the same job as me, but the application process is a bit tougher, lasting about a year. From where I`m sitting (my gradually numbing arse) the benefits sound rather tasty, ie, an extra　￥40,000-50,000 (200 quid) a month, and the ability to go home early if you have nothing to do.

Grrr!

But I`m not really whinging - I have benefits, in that I have to involve myself in school life, which is pretty rewarding. As a result of many an afternoon with nowt to do, I`ve been participating in the after school Brass Band, when their schedule matches mine (ie, when they don`t start at five pm). Anybody who`s played in one of these before will know what I mean when I say "pompous-wanky-military-band- arrangement" (let`s call it a "PWAMBA"). In one of the bands, we`re playing a PWAMBA of "Can`t take my eyes off you", with a highly skilled drummer, who can`t read music and loves rock, so the beat is rather Satanic and my ears are delighted.

This week, the school across the road from me has been preparing for its annual culture festival, so that gave me something else to do in my not inconsiderable down-time.

















Murakami Sensei`s class was performing a traditional Kawasaki dance, fused with healthy doses of Hip-Hop...being teenagers, not all of them were prepared to do it, and some got rather nowty about the whole thing...the good news is maybe an hour or two ago, he phoned me up saying that his class had actually been selected as the best performers of the day. He wanted to thank me for the help I gave him...the "help" being participating in rehearsals for the dance...those of you who know me will be aware that I have all the grace of an epileptic hippo throwing a tantrum induced by electric shock in the middle of an earthquake. And I`m not really that flexible. I struggled enough with following instructions in Tai Chi, and that was in English...

...this week at school surprised me...more on that in the next entry, the ominously titled "Children".

Sanja Matsuri

Yet another entry is being drawn out of the distant past. Hopefully I`ll be contemporising and waffling speculatively again...

So, a Matsuri is a festival. They`re usually sponsored by a local shrine or temple...the Temple in question for this particular shin-dig is the truly stunning Sensoji...





..in Asakusa, which is where I spent the first ten days or so. Great start to the whole experience - Asakusa is a pretty quiet part of Tokyo, but it`s still rather crowded. It offers modern and historical Japan in bite-sized, easy to manage chunks. When I arrived there I really wanted all the cars to vanish so I could take photos of the cityscape...thankfully Sanja Matsuri is huge.





Something in the region of 100 Omikoshi are jostled through the streets...



...down the aforementioned market street...







...on to the Temple itself.









It`s brilliant. If anybody finds themselves in Tokyo, roughly the second weekend of May, bloody go to Asakusa.

Matsuri

The events I`m about to describe took place on the 15th of May...the saga of my attempts to get a domestic internet connection has ended in defeat...now, with the aid of the lovely Hayley, with her considered, practiced and above all, reliable signature, we should be online in about...two months...

A Matsuri is a festival. There`s all manner of Matsuri - they generally involve traditional dress, drunkeness in the streets and the procession of about fifty people carrying an Omikoshi. An Omikoshi is a "portable" shrine that God sleeps in...



...that`s a child sized Omikoshi - believe me, they get bigger.

This particular matsuri marked a time when the good people of Oda, still reeling from a draught, prayed for copious amounts of rain, and got it in spades. Interestingly enough, shortly after the Matsuri was completed, it rained as if Thor had come out of a mid-life crisis with a rediscovered zeal for his work.

It was centred around the lovely shrine near me...



...and I was invited to come along, as one of my schools was carrying an Omikoshi.



There are my students, being given a safe manual handling course by a local boss - and good stuff too. Needless to say, God is exceptionally heavy. Omikoshi, as well as being made with solid gold, are carted around on massive log frames, which are jostled up and down as everybody shouts "ASE!" (roughly "hupp-hurr") - the shaking of the Omikoshi supposedly wakes up God, but I think its real purpose is to crush weaklings.



There they are with members of the local community (in green) lugging God around Oda. The dashing fellow with his head sticking up out of the Omikoshi is Komada sensei - look at him. He loves it.

Despite the years of tradition, and the alleged solemnity of the Japanese, it was a pretty informal affair...



...and as I`ve mentioned, drunkeness in the streets...I made friends with one highly intoxicated old man who couldn`t speak a word of english, but seemed to like me. Later I got invited to a banquet held in a secluded hall (such is the way of Japans` wind-y narrow streets)...



...and yes, the bastards got me drunk. Breakfast that morning was a couple of beers, and some sake...in closing...



...of course I wore mt gert lush T-shirt.