It's high political season in teachers' rooms all over this country.
In this case, it's the politics of dealing with having to come to work without any, you know, work to do.
We make our own little cheating rules. We'll go to lunch -- for two and a half hours. We'll leave early. But it can be complicated.
It's all about showing face over here. Putting in the time. Even if you're not working, or have to work to do, sitting at your desk means you're doing your job in the summer.
This is especially the case for the ALTs. Yesterday I talked with a student for five minute about a speech she as to write. The rest of the time I watched "Dexter" online.
No matter. I was at work, earning my salary as a responsible public employee.
Our attempts to navigate the system -- that is, somehow cheat by leaving early -- can be clouded by guilt. Last week, we headed out for a very long lunch break, getting back at around 3 p.m., which is often our "early departure" time in the summer.
Even though on a normal day we might have left at three, we felt obligated to stay for another hour and do nothing at our desks just to show face. So we left at 4 (our contract says we can leave at 4:15).
And now today, it's a few minutes after 3. All day I said to myself that I'd head out at 3. But then when 3 came along I realized that walking out right at 3 might look like I somehow feel entitled to leaving right at 3. Perhaps a better time to leave would be something like 3:13. Or 3:07 .
Even though I strongly doubt anyone really would be upset that an ALT leaves a little early on a summer day, these things can get to us.
One colleague always makes a point of announcing to everyone within earshot that we're leaving by saying a Japanese phrase that translates to something like "excuse me for leaving before you all" or perhaps more accurately "I know it's horribly rude and I've brought shame upon my family, but I'm heading out now, so enjoy staying till 5 for no reason, suckers!" The Japanese phrase, "osaki ni shitsureshimasu," is commonly used, but I don't use it.
For I don't think it's rude to leave early. There's NOTHING to do. I've been watching season 3 of Seinfeld today.
And I always like to throw in one more justification: Every day during the normal school year we technically work 45 minutes of overtime at lunch, when we talk with students even though the contract says it's free time. And a couple days a week we work about an hour or so of overtime with the English Club. In the fall we'll work overtime every day, as English Club students prepare for speech contest season.
But surely some of the staffers who see me leaving early don't know all of this, or would not care if they did no. Because it's all about face.
But as a gaijin, I've got what George Costanza would call hand. We're not held to the same sstandards, thank goodness. And so now, at 3:09, I'm packing up and heading home.
To my family, I apologize for all the shame.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
That New Yorker Cover
Mom e-mailed to ask what I thought of the Obama-satire cover on the latest New Yorker, to which she subscribes. My response:
First, I appreciate it on some level as satire, though I agree with those who say it's not really that amazing as satire, because rather than being over the top it simply expresses what people have already said. But that's a form of satire itself and it stands on its own.
Second, the Obama campaign, and the media, have taken the issue to crazy town. The appropriate response from the campaign would have been to say that Obama understands satire. Also, the media clearly have little else to talk about with respect to the campaign if they're making such a deal about this.
On The Daily Show, Jon Stewart made the point that it's usually cable news that raises these issues without a clear resolution, in teasers going to commercial. Like: "When we come back, did Barack Obama attend a Muslim school?" That's not satire, that's just trashy cable news. The New Yorker cover is clearly satire.
Also, my first thoughts were this: The people who read The New Yorker will of course understand that it's satire. The people who wouldn't understand that it's satire do not read The New Yorker. So what's the problem?
Well, the media, and, of course, the umbrage-taking Obama campaign, which has shown a lack of appreciation for humor.
What's your take?
First, I appreciate it on some level as satire, though I agree with those who say it's not really that amazing as satire, because rather than being over the top it simply expresses what people have already said. But that's a form of satire itself and it stands on its own.
Second, the Obama campaign, and the media, have taken the issue to crazy town. The appropriate response from the campaign would have been to say that Obama understands satire. Also, the media clearly have little else to talk about with respect to the campaign if they're making such a deal about this.
On The Daily Show, Jon Stewart made the point that it's usually cable news that raises these issues without a clear resolution, in teasers going to commercial. Like: "When we come back, did Barack Obama attend a Muslim school?" That's not satire, that's just trashy cable news. The New Yorker cover is clearly satire.
Also, my first thoughts were this: The people who read The New Yorker will of course understand that it's satire. The people who wouldn't understand that it's satire do not read The New Yorker. So what's the problem?
Well, the media, and, of course, the umbrage-taking Obama campaign, which has shown a lack of appreciation for humor.
What's your take?
Monday, July 14, 2008
Have you lost weight?
In the states, when someone says "have you lost weight?" it's usually a comment designed to make the person feel good, regardless of whether or not they've lost weight.
In Japan, it's a simple observation, and pointing out the opposite -- weight gain, that is -- is not seen as a different sort of comment.
So you might hear "you gained a little weight, right?" when talking to Japanese friends. Or, upon meeting a new Japanese friend, the conversation might naturally steer toward weight. "So, you're a little fat," is not seen as any more rude than "so, that shirt you're wearing, it's pretty blue, right?"
It's a perfectly acceptable part of normal conversation, even though many foreigners will cringe upon hearing a comment about their weight.
As for my own weight -- I lost some after arriving, but weight comes and goes. My lifestyle here is much more mobile than it was back home. I ride a bike everywhere, or walk, whereas I drove nearly everywhere back home.
A lot of people think that because I'm in Japan, I'll automatically lose weight because I'm eating only healthy food. Well, I could be, as I could have been back home. But fried food and fatty food and unhealthy treats are popular here too, along with all the stuff that's good for you.
One thing that does help is that normal serving sizes are usually smaller here than they would be back home, and that goes for McDonald's or a home-cooked meal.
Japan seems a little obsessed with the idea of being fat. They call is "metabo," short for "metabolic syndrome," and they seem to think it's sweeping their island chain like a typhoon. The government recently announced that it would be measuring waste-lines of people over a certain age, and an ad campaign urges people to avoid metabo.
Of course, Japan has fat people, but they're nowhere near the levels of the U.S. or Mexico or other fat nations. But when a trend gains traction here, it can really dig in. This is one such trend.
And that gives even more weight to the concept that discussing whether someone is fat is socially acceptable. Maybe it's a good thing. Our version seems to be that we ignore it if someone is fat because it might hurt their feelings to make any mention of it. Perhaps some discussion would be helpful.
Also helpful: a healthy diet and regular exercise. Maybe I should join that gym down the road after all.
In Japan, it's a simple observation, and pointing out the opposite -- weight gain, that is -- is not seen as a different sort of comment.
So you might hear "you gained a little weight, right?" when talking to Japanese friends. Or, upon meeting a new Japanese friend, the conversation might naturally steer toward weight. "So, you're a little fat," is not seen as any more rude than "so, that shirt you're wearing, it's pretty blue, right?"
It's a perfectly acceptable part of normal conversation, even though many foreigners will cringe upon hearing a comment about their weight.
As for my own weight -- I lost some after arriving, but weight comes and goes. My lifestyle here is much more mobile than it was back home. I ride a bike everywhere, or walk, whereas I drove nearly everywhere back home.
A lot of people think that because I'm in Japan, I'll automatically lose weight because I'm eating only healthy food. Well, I could be, as I could have been back home. But fried food and fatty food and unhealthy treats are popular here too, along with all the stuff that's good for you.
One thing that does help is that normal serving sizes are usually smaller here than they would be back home, and that goes for McDonald's or a home-cooked meal.
Japan seems a little obsessed with the idea of being fat. They call is "metabo," short for "metabolic syndrome," and they seem to think it's sweeping their island chain like a typhoon. The government recently announced that it would be measuring waste-lines of people over a certain age, and an ad campaign urges people to avoid metabo.
Of course, Japan has fat people, but they're nowhere near the levels of the U.S. or Mexico or other fat nations. But when a trend gains traction here, it can really dig in. This is one such trend.
And that gives even more weight to the concept that discussing whether someone is fat is socially acceptable. Maybe it's a good thing. Our version seems to be that we ignore it if someone is fat because it might hurt their feelings to make any mention of it. Perhaps some discussion would be helpful.
Also helpful: a healthy diet and regular exercise. Maybe I should join that gym down the road after all.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
USA! USA! USA!
First, as a comment in the previous post notes, along with an e-mail from Andrew, last year's Fourth of July mystery has been solved in part. We hung out at my place for a while, then we watched "Mr. Holland's Opus." I'm pretty sure Andrew and I were the ones most excited about this prospect.
Tonight, as it was the Fourth here in Japan, I joined a few other Americans (and one skeptical Aussie) and bought a pack of fireworks at the convenience store (of course you can buy fireworks at the convenience store) and headed down to the banks of the Miya River. There, we blew them up. The show was over in about 20 minutes, and failing to save the big ones for last, the Grand Finale was: sparklers. But doing anything at all was something.
Our Aussie friend asked if we were going to sing the national anthem, and, if we were, she wasn't going to come. We hadn't thought of it -- but we almost did just to taunt her.
A lot of non-Americans assume we're all flag-waving support-the-U.S.-without-question people. We are not all those people. In fact, the Americans are usually the ones who are the least concerned with supporting "their country" and defending "their country." At least the ones I hang out with are.
Tonight, at karaoke, I thought about singing the national anthem. But even if I had decided to try it, it wasn't in the system. I sang Green Day's "American Idiot" instead. My friend Mike from the UK colored his applause at the end with a possibly sarcastic chant of "USA, USA, USA." Let the record show that I was not chanting.
Tonight, as it was the Fourth here in Japan, I joined a few other Americans (and one skeptical Aussie) and bought a pack of fireworks at the convenience store (of course you can buy fireworks at the convenience store) and headed down to the banks of the Miya River. There, we blew them up. The show was over in about 20 minutes, and failing to save the big ones for last, the Grand Finale was: sparklers. But doing anything at all was something.
Our Aussie friend asked if we were going to sing the national anthem, and, if we were, she wasn't going to come. We hadn't thought of it -- but we almost did just to taunt her.
A lot of non-Americans assume we're all flag-waving support-the-U.S.-without-question people. We are not all those people. In fact, the Americans are usually the ones who are the least concerned with supporting "their country" and defending "their country." At least the ones I hang out with are.
Tonight, at karaoke, I thought about singing the national anthem. But even if I had decided to try it, it wasn't in the system. I sang Green Day's "American Idiot" instead. My friend Mike from the UK colored his applause at the end with a possibly sarcastic chant of "USA, USA, USA." Let the record show that I was not chanting.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Notes on things
I cannot for the life of me recall what I did on July 4 last year. Summer was a barren wasteland of pre-Japan boredom tinted by I-actually-graduated joy. I hardly recall the period from right after I confirmed graduation to right before the Northwest Airlines flight left the ground at PDX.
Did I watch fireworks somewhere? Was there a party? Who was I with? I really can't recall. Nearly a year has passed since then, nearly a year of life in Japan, and one might wonder, what is the state of things?
But my life is normal here. At least, normal based on what normal has been for me so far. It feels like an extension of college sometimes, but with a lot more free time and fewer responsibilities. The big changes in my world have been happening to the people around me - family and friends.
In no particular order:
My step-brother Josh got married, and he and Jennifer are expecting a baby.
My step-sister Jenny graduated from OSU and is moving on to optometry school this summer.
My mother completed a graduate program and is now looking for work as an art teacher somewhere in the dark shades of Eastern Oregon.
My brother Chris re-surfaced, only to head off on the road again, nobody seems to know to where.
My father and step-mother got a wine retail shop off the ground in Corvallis, as my dad settled in to a principal-ing in a new school.
My brother Phil ... well, Phil? Anything big I missed?
My college friend Andrew gave new life to a VW bus, drove it across the country dodging tornadoes; he recently landed in New York City, seeking work, starting life. He'll marry Ellyn next summer in Oregon. Somehow, I'll be there.
And then there's me.
I don't discount that what I've done is a major thing. Just that I moved to Japan to work as an ALT is my "thing" for the list. But over the course of a year nothing big has happened to change my life. But things have gone well enough that I've opted to stay for another year. I should be careful not to expect too much. My predecessor Katie had the keen observation that even though you've changed countries, you're life comes too. Only one year has passed. Do I need a life-changing event to validate my experience? Of course not. Life ticks on.
In all of this, my "real" future is floating somewhere in my line-of-sight, a collection of thoughts about working in journalism. But the collection of thoughts is dominated by questions. Where will I work? Are newspapers dying? Can I work in Japan and in journalism? Am I destined for small-town America? Should I go to grad school? Should I change my plans entirely?
Fortunately, this flotilla of unknowns does not need to be sorted out at once. I might make a third year in Japan, journalism or not, by uprooting my country life in Ise and sampling city life. I've always though of myself as a city person, despite having never lived in a city larger than 50,000 people. I should probably test my "I'm a city person" claim by living in one, and where better than Tokyo or Osaka?
So the short term is settled. Good enough for now.
And now I'm reminded that I didn't intent this post to be about me. So to all the family and friends who have done so much in the past year, I say, well done.
I'll be here if you want to come by some time.
Did I watch fireworks somewhere? Was there a party? Who was I with? I really can't recall. Nearly a year has passed since then, nearly a year of life in Japan, and one might wonder, what is the state of things?
But my life is normal here. At least, normal based on what normal has been for me so far. It feels like an extension of college sometimes, but with a lot more free time and fewer responsibilities. The big changes in my world have been happening to the people around me - family and friends.
In no particular order:
My step-brother Josh got married, and he and Jennifer are expecting a baby.
My step-sister Jenny graduated from OSU and is moving on to optometry school this summer.
My mother completed a graduate program and is now looking for work as an art teacher somewhere in the dark shades of Eastern Oregon.
My brother Chris re-surfaced, only to head off on the road again, nobody seems to know to where.
My father and step-mother got a wine retail shop off the ground in Corvallis, as my dad settled in to a principal-ing in a new school.
My brother Phil ... well, Phil? Anything big I missed?
My college friend Andrew gave new life to a VW bus, drove it across the country dodging tornadoes; he recently landed in New York City, seeking work, starting life. He'll marry Ellyn next summer in Oregon. Somehow, I'll be there.
And then there's me.
I don't discount that what I've done is a major thing. Just that I moved to Japan to work as an ALT is my "thing" for the list. But over the course of a year nothing big has happened to change my life. But things have gone well enough that I've opted to stay for another year. I should be careful not to expect too much. My predecessor Katie had the keen observation that even though you've changed countries, you're life comes too. Only one year has passed. Do I need a life-changing event to validate my experience? Of course not. Life ticks on.
In all of this, my "real" future is floating somewhere in my line-of-sight, a collection of thoughts about working in journalism. But the collection of thoughts is dominated by questions. Where will I work? Are newspapers dying? Can I work in Japan and in journalism? Am I destined for small-town America? Should I go to grad school? Should I change my plans entirely?
Fortunately, this flotilla of unknowns does not need to be sorted out at once. I might make a third year in Japan, journalism or not, by uprooting my country life in Ise and sampling city life. I've always though of myself as a city person, despite having never lived in a city larger than 50,000 people. I should probably test my "I'm a city person" claim by living in one, and where better than Tokyo or Osaka?
So the short term is settled. Good enough for now.
And now I'm reminded that I didn't intent this post to be about me. So to all the family and friends who have done so much in the past year, I say, well done.
I'll be here if you want to come by some time.
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