Circadian Rhythm

As I promised, this makes my third post for the week! I was actually pretty concerned that I wouldn't be able to think of anything remotely interesting to write about (e.g. I walked around Kobe looking at stores for about 5 hours on Wednesday), but my students did not disappoint me in class today. After teaching all day, I came home and realized I haven't actually written a post about English lessons which, incidentally, are a big part of life here.

Teaching English as a second/foreign language has its fair share of challenges and rewards. For the teacher who does not speak the native language (me), sometimes simple communication is like trying to kayak from Washington to Japan (Google directions from your home in the US to Kobe, Japan--it's gonna be a long haul, but I assure you, Japan is worth the row). Of course, it's also rewarding when a student is practicing conversation and they correctly use a verb or pronouce "er" in a way other than "ah" (which is particularly challenging for speakers of many languages).

In my short nearly two months of teaching English, I have learned a couple important lessons I would like to share with the priveleged few who read this blog...

1. Learning to listen in the classroom (and outside the classroom when you don't speak the native language well) is crucial for learning. Teaching English communication requires both give and take in the language, and a haphazard listener could derail an entire conversation. Case in point:

As I sat down to lunch after church, I settled in for some Japanese listening practice as the church members carried on in their lunch-time chatting. While I don't know enough vocabulary to understand much, hearing Japanese helps me learn to process the many unfamiliar sounds I encounter in the language every day.
Suddenly, two of the people from my Sunday School class (who are sitting on either side of me), begin to explain, in English, what they've been discussing. Their English is pretty advanced, and for the most part, I don't have any trouble understanding when they switch from Japanese to English for me. But here is a close reenactment of our consversation that Sunday:

Them: We were just talking about walk...
Me: Oh! Walking where?
Them: At a jog...
Me: You mean on a jog? Where do you walk or jog?
Them: A place in Hyogo (Hyogo is 20 minutes by train... basically forever by foot)
Me: OH! Sugoi (wow)! That's really far!
Them: It's only about 20 minutes by train...
Me: Oh, and you jog there?
Them: No, I walk there... what?
Me: Why do you walk there? I would definitely always take the train.
Them: I don't walk, I take the train.
Me: Huh?
Them: I take the train every day. My company is very far.
Me: (realization hits) OOOHHHH!!! You were talking about work! Your job!
Them: Yes, work and job.
Me: I thought we were talking about walking and jogging (this time with appropriate miming)
(All burst out in laughter together as the mistake sets in; scene fades to black)

In Japan, there are quite a few English words like the above example that, because of Japanese pronunciation, end up sounding like other English words. While normally, context provides important insight into the actual desired word(s), occasionally you end up with both parties very confused. Lesson: Learning to listen and hear the distinct ways of pronouncing English is a must!

2) Be selective about the English you choose to present. Just because a student asks about something does not mean you should always teach them a new word. Try to review old or familiar vocabulary to build on their already existing knowledge. Otherwise, this happens:

"Would you like some coffee?" I asked one of the students. One simple question began the fateful journey down the rabbit's hole. "No, I don't drink coffee because I will not be able to sleep at night." The conversation could have and perhaps should have ended here, but along came the follow-up, "What do you say for when your body wants to be awake and wants to sleep?" "Sleep cycle."

... Is what I should have said, but NO, not me. I had to pull out the phrase "circadian rhythm," which led to confusion (as many would expect). While I could continue with the conversation, instead let's look a a flow chart of the chain of words where we began and ended...

Coffee-->Sleep-->Circadian Rhythm-->Jet lag--(I draw a picture of a globe on the board and trace a flight from the US to Japan, complete with latitude and longitude lines)-->Latitude and Longitude-->Tropic of Cancer-->Cancer, not the medical term the zodiac/constellation--> zodiac and constellation-->Scorpion (I mistakenly said that Cancer, the crab, was the scorpion--I am obviously an astrology AND astronomy expert)-->Return to Tropic of Capricorn-->Tropic-->Capricorn-->back to longitude and latitude-->time zones-->International Date Line-->meridians... AND break!

If I had just said "sleep cycle," perhaps none of this would have happened, but instead I spent about 30 minutes following an English language trail in a game of loose connections. Lesson: Do not complicate English vocabulary--it doesn't need your help to be tough.

Well, I could probably regale you with more stories/lessons of my teaching all-star moments, but you've hung on long enough for one day. Can you think of any particularly tricky English words that sound similar? Have you ever followed a tangent to the bitter end that makes you as exhausted as kayaking across the Pacific? What weird language quirks have you experienced?

Just questions to ponder (or comment on!)... Peace.

Excuse me, sir. Your ignorance is showing...

What in the world is going on?! That has been the question I have been asking myself most of the day today. Nothing bad or unexpected (in any other part of the world) made me ask this question. Yet, I feel as if I was living in the Twilight Zone for a good portion of the afternoon...

This morning, for the first time since Bernie and Cheryl dropped me off in Kobe, I met a few fellow gaijin missionaries for a Bible study in nearby Suma Ward. I have spoken with a lot of friends and family through Skype, and I have been to visit Tokyo, so I have not felt particularly disconnected from people, but it was good to meet other missionaries who are in similar places in life. They have been in Japan longer than me and have great insight into the culture, not to mention their great personalities. The Bible study time was mostly introductions and chatting about our various experiences in Japan, but it was an energizing time being around similar people here in Japan.

Following the Bible/fellowship time, a member of the church where we met for fellowship brought all the makings for yakisoba (quickly taking the lead in my "favorite dishes of Japan" list) and we cooked up a fine lunch. What better way to have a chance to get to know people than over a freshly cooked meal (that for the most part did not include seafood--whoo! Still working on that particular cultural difference). After lunch the two other missionaries had to head out for meetings/classes... and this is where the day took an unexpected turn...

As I was putting on my backpack to leave, the Japanese member of the church who brought the food for lunch suddenly asked about my plans for the afternoon. She had apparently called a Japanese couple who are friends of hers and asked if they would hang out with me for the afternoon. Before I know it, a car pulls up and I'm riding to a random guy's house to talk and have some social time for the afternoon. After a hike up a local small mountain, some tea and coffee, some English conversation, and a short excursion to see the neighborhood (a beautiful tree-lined neighborhood with a couple schools and children playing on the rec. fields and walking home from classes), I was given a ride all the way back to my apartment... No paying for a train. That was unacceptable. I was going to ride in style.

This is not the Japan I expected. I have mentioned to many people that I feel blessed by the relationships I am already building here, but really, I continually expect the Japanese people to be polite but distant. Not so by my present experience. Between the Tarumi Church of God and the people from other churches, I am assured that I will never be alone in Japan. While this is good, I feel like I'm not able to adequately process the chasm of my presuppositions about Japan and my experiences thus far. I am kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop... to be pushed out of the relationships I've just begun. I feel like I should start having this kind of conversation:

"Ummm... I'm really happy you want me to go to _______, but aren't you supposed to be culturally distant? I've read how Japan is kind of a cold culture, slow to form relationships. I mean, sure, you get the reward for one of the most polite nations on the planet, but are you sure you want to take me to ________? I don't want to impose on your distant-from-people life that I have assumed is true of all Japanese people because I read about the culture before I came."

How weird that some of my culture shock is coming from a negative presupposition that is being proven wrong! (It's maybe as strange as the realization that Japan is a nation free from the trappings of clothes dryers--definitely a toss-up on which is more extreme and has a greater impact on my life).

Maybe this means nothing to you, but today was a baffling (yet still positive) experience. Perhaps as I learn more of the language and culture I will be able to look back and identify the distance placed between me and the Japanese people, distance that I am just ignorant to right now (notice me clinging to the presupposition here...). In the meantime, I suppose I will just be happy that I got to hike up a small mountain and see Kobe with a man who has lived in Kobe his entire life but has also traveled around the world. I will be happy that I had the opportunity to have tea and coffee and unexpected English fellowship. I will be joyful for the relationships that bring familiarity to an otherwise very unfamiliar place.

Peace and more coming either Friday or Saturday...

P.S. I have GOT to start taking my camera everywhere with me! It seems like every time I turn a corner, someone is randomly inviting me to go somewhere new to sightsee. Just when I feel like I'm getting into a routine and understanding life, I start getting spontaneous invitations to check out the local world of Japan minus the device that provides proof of the experience to the rest of the world.

Airing Out My Laundry

Wow! It's been the better part of a month since I updated this, and for those who are actually interested in hearing about my life in Japan, I'm sorry! It's partially busyness, but mostly neglect... I will work on that this week by posting a couple different things throughout the week.

Today, I am going to discuss the simple task of doing laundry in Japan.

In Japan, it appears that the majority of citizens do not own a dryer for clothes. While this may seem strange, consider that in Kobe, the city where I live, the population density was 2,768 people per square kilometer (yes, that's right, kilometer... no miles here) in 2007. If every household consisted of four people (the average was actually 2.55 in 2005) and each family happened to dry a load of laundry at the same time, 692 in each of the 553 square kilometers of Kobe (382,676 dryers), a ridiculous amount of power would be used and heat emitted. Aside from the environment/consumption issue, the tiny size of many apartments actually forces people (myself included) to keep their washer outside on the veranda of the apartment. I can assure you that there is no way I'm fitting a washer AND dryer out there, and if I have to choose, I will probably opt for the washer (though I love the warm freshly dried softness of clothes right out of the dryer... I'm having second thoughts about keeping the washer now).

All of that explanation (figuring out the numbers took more work than I care to admit, so don't complain that it was boring to read... you didn't have to do the math) is to say that living in Japan means air-drying your clothes. For many, this is convenient as apartments provide nice rods for you to hang up your clothes.

BUT, there is a catch for some of us. In my apartment building the holder for the rods does not seem to reflect the height of the average Japanese person (Japanese men average in at around 5' 7" while women average 5' 2"). I feel like my clothes rod, and I'm approximating here, is hanging about 20 feet or so above my veranda floor (maybe actually only 9 or 10 feet, but I am done with calculations and I only have a tape measure with centimeters). Every time I want to dry laundry, I have to pull out a step ladder to reach high enough to hang up clothes.

This wouldn't be a big deal, except that when I am on my step ladder, the wall keeping me from falling from the fourth floor to an early demise is at about my knees. If you're not afraid of heights or ever-so-slightly concerned an earthquake could potentially occur at any time (ref. Kobe Earthquake 1995), this is not a big deal, but I find myself getting vertigo-like dizziness if I have to spend more than a couple seconds in the "death-zone." It's like I'm living out the blockbuster Cliffhanger every time I want to dry my clothes (p.s. thanks Sly for that bold contribution to 1990's American cinema).

If it happens to be a rainy day, drying clothes becomes more of a challenge as I try to find enough surfaces inside the apartment to lay clothes. If I am lucky and I happen to be drying a dark/color load, my apartment looks like a harem for the majority of the day. It's like living inside a genie's lamp (specifically Jeannie's from I Dream of Jeannie--Ah, Nick at Nite). If I do a load of whites, it sometimes looks like I live in a big cotton ball.

Perhaps the most ridiculous moment comes when I realize that I want to wear something but have not left adequate drying time for it. Out comes the hair dryer, bequeathed to me by the last SAM here in Kobe, (this small piece of information is definitely unnecessary, but I apparently felt the need to fulfill a male stereotype in not buying/owning a hair dryer when, in fact, I had one back in the US) to try in vain to get my favorite khakis dry. The poor hair dryer is only so big, and I might as well be blowing on the pants myself to get them dry, but I will do and have done this multiple times for about 20 to 30 minutes only to realize that I have failed. So I angrily put on my awkwardly fitting olive pants and head out to class.

And such is my laundry routine here in Japan. I realize that all of the above situations are not necessarily unique to Japan but fit any place or apartment without convenient washer/dryer combinations or a laundromat within walking distance. Has anyone else ever experienced any of these laundry mishaps? Have you worried you might tumble off your x-story veranda to meet an early demise? If you have to hang your clothes out to dry, do you imagine, as I sometimes do, that you may have slipped back in time about 40-50 years (Note: the first electric dryers were produced in 1915 though they weren't more widely available until a few decades later)?

If you have made it this far, thanks for tolerating the rambling!

Life in Japan continues to improve each day and week, and classes are going well. Students learning English here are hard workers, and it is a joy to spend time with them each week. The kids in class are really smart, and I am looking forward to the next two years in the classroom.

In one of my advanced classes we are practicing gerunds with careers, so here's your English lesson and our conversation starter at the beginning of each class for the unit: "The most rewarding/interesting/challenging thing about being a/an ------- (we'll say English teacher) is (building relationships with the students).

For now, peace. I'll update more later this week!