The nights are falling sooner. The air is growing chillier. Autumn is here. And here to stay for a bit it seems, though Japanese will call it ‘winter’ here before long. I’ve already been warned by several of my co-workers that the temperatures can even get down to freezing occasionally, usually in the early mornings. Their eyes grow wide when I tell them that on good winter day in Kansas, the temperatures might get up to freezing by midday. Of course, it won’t be a day at the beach for me entirely. Like air conditioning, heat seems to be a rationed commodity in Japan. I might have it in the teacher’s room at my schools, but the classrooms will be without, and I never quite figured out the air conditioning / heating unit at my apartment. My little space heaters will have to bear the burden.
At my schools, the students are getting in as much quality time on the playground as they can before the weather becomes unbearable, I suppose. And I am often their honored guest during recess. Kids on both hands pulling me in every direction to the swings, jungle gyms, and teeter-totter (which they always crack up when I say the name of). I’ve gotten quite a bit of respect from the younger kids for scaling the jungle gym with them and sliding down the slides.
With the older kids, we usually head for the all-purpose sports field where there are always a number of matches going on: soccer, kickball, dodge ball, and a big favorite – dodge frisbee. There is occasionally a teacher or two playing along with the students, but for the most part, the kids are on their own during this 45 minutes after lunch. They usually stay divided by grade and class and can spend 15 – 20 minutes working out the rules – though once the game begins, I’ve never seen any fights erupt and all disagreements seem to be worked out very quickly and without hurt feelings – so, I suppose that time is spent well.
Choosing teams is a fun thing for me now. When I was a kid in elementary school, I was always in the bottom half of kids chosen. The first mark against me, of course, was that I was a girl, we’re always chosen last. The second mark was that I was pretty middle of the road when it came to athleticism and popularity, the two factors that can help a girl get chosen before others. I never realized how affected by that I was, or honestly, the fact that I was affected at all – I never remember a time when I was the absolute last kid picked. But, I have to admit that I get a good deal of satisfaction at always being the first one chosen for teams here in Japan. Finally, the popularity factor works in my favor. But being chosen first isn’t the only benefit I’m accorded. I’m rarely targeted during games of dodge ball and frisbee and ties always seem to go to Jenny-sensei. It would get old after too long, but at the moment, I’m quietly enjoying this small sense of playground revenge.
Starting last week, I began teaching lessons about Halloween to some of my older students. The existence of Halloween is certainly well-known here in Japan. I’ve seen images of jack o’lanterns everywhere from department stores to car dealerships to school classrooms. I walked past a high-end patisserie in the basement of a local department store with a large Halloween display consisting almost entirely of pumpkins and a large portion of their treats were pumpkin based – though nothing Americans would be familiar with.
I have little idea what Japanese actually know about the holiday other than faces carved on pumpkins, though. In fact, when I introduced ‘jack o’lanterns’ to my first and second graders, they called them ‘halloweens.’
I tried to compare Halloween to the Japanese holiday, Obon. But, it’s not a very good comparison. Obon is more like the Mexican holiday, Dia de los Muertos - a day where souls of the dead, particularly ancestors, return for a visit. But Obon doesn’t really have any of the fear element that Halloween does and I didn’t want to frighten my students, so I chose more cartoon-like pictures of ghosts, skeletons, and various monsters. From their laughter, I suppose I succeeded in not frightening them at least, if not really impress upon them the meaning of ‘scary’ in relation to Halloween. Oh well, at least, they all had a good time with balloon races and making paper jack o’lanterns.
Current reading material – Dorothy Parker’s Complete Stories. Her wit is legendary, of course, but it is her style that I admire so much. As an aspiring writer myself, I am in awe of how effortlessly Parker makes it look. I have to admit though, she’s best read when one isn’t in a relationship. Outlook on romance - not very sunny.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – Gram Parsons’ GP / Grievous Angel. I was introduced to Gram Parsons by my Dad when I was in high school and was immediately reminded that the phrase ‘good country music’ need not be an oxymoron, despite all contemporary evidence to the contrary.
- Jenny
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Yes, But What Does Britney Think?
There are a great many things that I miss about America. Many, of course, I expected: my family and friends, favorite shops, and restaurants. It’s what I didn’t expect to miss that is really throwing me for a loop, however.
I miss Twinkies. I don’t really even like Twinkies that much and I rarely eat them, but somehow their absence is keenly felt.
I miss American television; particularly the guilty pleasure shows, the shows that I would never think to watch unless I was bored and had come upon them while channel surfing - the VH1 marathon of last season’s ‘America’s Next Top Model’ or the second-rate action movie on TNT.
Mostly, I find that I miss magazines. I miss reading the witty and thought provoking editorials and essays in The New Yorker and Time Magazine. Now, I know that I can read them online. Even the cartoons, which I admit constitute about half of my reading pleasure in The New Yorker, are included on it’s online pages. But, it’s not quite the same as sitting down in a comfortable chair and flipping through the pages.
And as much as I miss the respectable magazines, I must confess what I really miss are the gossip rags. I miss People and US Magazine. It’s all fine and good to read about the Pakistani President’s unsettlingly friendly relationship with the Chinese leadership in Time, but what about Jennifer Aniston’s love life? Where can I find photos of Nicole Richie at the supermarket or a picture gallery of recent celebrity ‘baby bumps’? And yes, I can find much of this online as well. But, there is something about actually setting out to find gossip that takes so much of the joy out it. And viewing the pictures online just isn’t the same. There is something about the glossy pages and splashy, exaggerated headlines that transforms them from tacky gossip into perfectly acceptable entertainment.
And where People and US Magazine are like Pizza Hut pizza– not my usual preference for dinner, but the subject of an occasional craving – OK! and Star Magazine seem to fill the role of Twinkies in this admittedly odd allegory. I never actually buy them, but there is something very comforting about their presence in the grocery check-out line; something reassuring about the competing headlines of a Jolie / Pitt break-up versus their plans to marry on Christmas Eve at the Taj Mahal.
More evidence, I suppose, that even metaphorical superficial cuts cause more irritation than deeper wounds. I wonder if I’ll spend one of my first days back in the States sitting in front of the television eating Twinkies and flipping through US Magazine while ‘America’s Next Top Model’ is on. And no doubt, remembering very quickly why I never thought I would miss them in the first place.
Recent DVD viewing– The 1987 BBC series of Dorothy L. Sayers Lord Peter Wimsey films starring Edward Petherbridge and Harriet Walter. I’m enjoying them tremendously and am now very interested in reading the original novels.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – Gomez’s 2004 album, Split the Difference. Great band, check them out.
- Jenny
I miss Twinkies. I don’t really even like Twinkies that much and I rarely eat them, but somehow their absence is keenly felt.
I miss American television; particularly the guilty pleasure shows, the shows that I would never think to watch unless I was bored and had come upon them while channel surfing - the VH1 marathon of last season’s ‘America’s Next Top Model’ or the second-rate action movie on TNT.
Mostly, I find that I miss magazines. I miss reading the witty and thought provoking editorials and essays in The New Yorker and Time Magazine. Now, I know that I can read them online. Even the cartoons, which I admit constitute about half of my reading pleasure in The New Yorker, are included on it’s online pages. But, it’s not quite the same as sitting down in a comfortable chair and flipping through the pages.
And as much as I miss the respectable magazines, I must confess what I really miss are the gossip rags. I miss People and US Magazine. It’s all fine and good to read about the Pakistani President’s unsettlingly friendly relationship with the Chinese leadership in Time, but what about Jennifer Aniston’s love life? Where can I find photos of Nicole Richie at the supermarket or a picture gallery of recent celebrity ‘baby bumps’? And yes, I can find much of this online as well. But, there is something about actually setting out to find gossip that takes so much of the joy out it. And viewing the pictures online just isn’t the same. There is something about the glossy pages and splashy, exaggerated headlines that transforms them from tacky gossip into perfectly acceptable entertainment.
And where People and US Magazine are like Pizza Hut pizza– not my usual preference for dinner, but the subject of an occasional craving – OK! and Star Magazine seem to fill the role of Twinkies in this admittedly odd allegory. I never actually buy them, but there is something very comforting about their presence in the grocery check-out line; something reassuring about the competing headlines of a Jolie / Pitt break-up versus their plans to marry on Christmas Eve at the Taj Mahal.
More evidence, I suppose, that even metaphorical superficial cuts cause more irritation than deeper wounds. I wonder if I’ll spend one of my first days back in the States sitting in front of the television eating Twinkies and flipping through US Magazine while ‘America’s Next Top Model’ is on. And no doubt, remembering very quickly why I never thought I would miss them in the first place.
Recent DVD viewing– The 1987 BBC series of Dorothy L. Sayers Lord Peter Wimsey films starring Edward Petherbridge and Harriet Walter. I’m enjoying them tremendously and am now very interested in reading the original novels.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – Gomez’s 2004 album, Split the Difference. Great band, check them out.
- Jenny
Thursday, October 9, 2008
E Cannibus Unum?
Recently, the sumo world has been rocked by scandal. Two wrestlers have been permanently banned from professional sumo for having failed drug tests. They were found to have used… wait for it…. Marijuana. Yes, that dangerous drug that gives a professional athlete such an unfair advantage.
The Chairman of the Japan Sumo Association has lunged to accept the full blame of such a disastrous scandal and responded by tendering his resignation, though he insists that he had no prior knowledge of it and in actuality, completely believes the wrestlers when they deny having used marijuana. The Japanese, as a culture, have such an amazing ability to accept full blame for a situation, while at the same time, completely denying any of the responsibility. As usual, it seems to be the opposite of America, where everyone wants the responsibility, yet accepts none of the blame.
And after recounting all of the dirty details of lifetime bans and resignations, the media then focuses on two, in my estimation, minor details in the scandal. One, the fact that the wrestlers are Russian borne, though they have been living and working in Japan for a good portion of their young lives. And two, they allegedly attained the pot while in America. The implications are unspoken, yet certainly not subtle; no true Japanese sumo would have succumbed to this terrible western drug. It’s as though the Japanese believe that they couldn’t possibly be corrupted by such things.
And yet, the more I see, the more I kind of believe it. Not that Japanese can’t be corrupted by things, but they seem to be completely unaware of marijuana’s existence, and at the same time, naively aware of it.
A slight digression, but stick with me. All Japanese schoolchildren have pencil cases in which they carry pencils (of course), erasers, crayons, rulers, and - somewhat oddly in my mind – needles and thread. The younger kids usually leave them in their desks and the older grades bring them to my class despite the fact that they never, ever use them. In fact, it was when I was directing them to set them down on the floor by the wall to keep them out of the way, when I noticed the large number of cases in very distinct colors of green, black, and orange-red. It was the unmistakable image of a cannabis leaf on the lid of one of the cases that really caught my eye, however. I won’t insult you by pretending that I didn’t immediately recognize it. Despite what social conservatives proclaim, to be raised in a small town in Kansas and not recognize the shape of a cannabis leaf or the distinctive smell when it’s being smoked, requires such a passionate commitment to ignorance that I am grateful to have never had.
I had a class to teach, though, and no time to investigate this interesting development. Thankfully, I was scheduled to eat lunch with the one of the other 6th grade classes and would have the opportunity to check it out.
And we circle closer and closer. I think I’ve described in general terms lunch-time in Japanese elementary schools before, but to give you a little better picture of what happens – lunch period officially begins at 12:30. It’s at this time that about six students put on their aprons and caps and head down to the ‘kitchen’ area and collect lunch and all of the dishware for the entire class. This usually consists of a basket full of bowls, plates, and chopsticks, a metal bucket full of rice, another containing soup and a smaller covered pan with the fish and / or pickled foods. Another pair of students head to the school refrigerators to collect the milk for the class. When they return to the classroom, these students set up an assembly line and serve their classmates. Nobody begins eating until everyone is served and the students on lunch duty for the day have removed their aprons and caps and settled down to eat.
This entire process often takes a good twenty to twenty-five minutes. I’ve seen it take up to thirty minutes a few times. It’s odd to me how these students react at lunch-time - it’s beyond patient and bordering on the apathetic. We can have our food sitting in front of us for ten minutes and the kids never act annoyed or even curious as to why we haven’t started eating yet. I have to admit, I become both curious and annoyed, though I try to hide it.
My point – and yes, I do have one – is that I often have ten or fifteen minutes to interact and observe the kids as we wait for our lunch to begin. The kids are often reading, drawing, playing cards, etc. Most importantly, they are often opening their desks, revealing their pencil cases. During this particular lunch, I didn’t immediately sit down and start talking with the kids at my particular lunch group. Instead, I wandered around the room on the lookout for that distinctive leaf. Almost immediately, I spied a very sweet and somewhat shy girl named Naoko open her desk, and sure enough, sitting on top of her Winnie the Pooh folder, was her metal pencil case in that distinctive green color and covered with outlines of cannabis leaves. On the corner of the case, however, were the words ‘The Hemp Society.’ Now, Japan actually has a decently large hemp market, so I withheld judgment.
In the desk next to her, however, I hit jackpot. The boy threw open his desk to get his comic book to show his friends and next to it was his pencil case. It was black, green, and red striped and in big, black letters completely covering the top of the case, said ‘CANNABIS.’ I kind of caught his and Naoko’s eye, and tried to subtly look at the cases questioningly. Their faces as they looked back at me were the definition of childlike innocence. There was no hint of a smirk which I would have suspected.
I’ve had my eyes on the lookout since, and these particular pencil cases are everywhere and they seem as though they’re all from the same company or brand. And despite their wide dispersion throughout all of my schools, nobody seems to indicate that know what they represent.
But seeing young girls walk around with pencil cases advertising marijuana along with their Winnie the Pooh binders and their Hello Kitty pencils isn't the only incongruity to been found in Japan. A common sight in downtown Kumamoto are thin, young men with Clay Aiken hairdos and delicate features wearing oversized FUBU clothes, and small boutiques filled with lacy, frilly clothes and playing Bob Marley’s ‘Africa Unite’ on the speakers.
It’s like an entire country is in on the joke and nobody is blinking.
My Current Reading Material – Stanley Lombardo’s brilliant translation of Virgil’s Aeneid. Dr. Lombardo was a professor of mine at the University of Kansas and I’ve had the extraordinary pleasure of listening to him read from several of his translations, including Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. He brings such a modern voice to these classics, while still remaining faithful to the spirit of the author and work. I cannot recommend these translations more highly.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – Robert Johnson: The Complete Recordings. And next up – Eric Clapton’s 2004 album, Me and Mr. Johnson.
- Jenny
The Chairman of the Japan Sumo Association has lunged to accept the full blame of such a disastrous scandal and responded by tendering his resignation, though he insists that he had no prior knowledge of it and in actuality, completely believes the wrestlers when they deny having used marijuana. The Japanese, as a culture, have such an amazing ability to accept full blame for a situation, while at the same time, completely denying any of the responsibility. As usual, it seems to be the opposite of America, where everyone wants the responsibility, yet accepts none of the blame.
And after recounting all of the dirty details of lifetime bans and resignations, the media then focuses on two, in my estimation, minor details in the scandal. One, the fact that the wrestlers are Russian borne, though they have been living and working in Japan for a good portion of their young lives. And two, they allegedly attained the pot while in America. The implications are unspoken, yet certainly not subtle; no true Japanese sumo would have succumbed to this terrible western drug. It’s as though the Japanese believe that they couldn’t possibly be corrupted by such things.
And yet, the more I see, the more I kind of believe it. Not that Japanese can’t be corrupted by things, but they seem to be completely unaware of marijuana’s existence, and at the same time, naively aware of it.
A slight digression, but stick with me. All Japanese schoolchildren have pencil cases in which they carry pencils (of course), erasers, crayons, rulers, and - somewhat oddly in my mind – needles and thread. The younger kids usually leave them in their desks and the older grades bring them to my class despite the fact that they never, ever use them. In fact, it was when I was directing them to set them down on the floor by the wall to keep them out of the way, when I noticed the large number of cases in very distinct colors of green, black, and orange-red. It was the unmistakable image of a cannabis leaf on the lid of one of the cases that really caught my eye, however. I won’t insult you by pretending that I didn’t immediately recognize it. Despite what social conservatives proclaim, to be raised in a small town in Kansas and not recognize the shape of a cannabis leaf or the distinctive smell when it’s being smoked, requires such a passionate commitment to ignorance that I am grateful to have never had.
I had a class to teach, though, and no time to investigate this interesting development. Thankfully, I was scheduled to eat lunch with the one of the other 6th grade classes and would have the opportunity to check it out.
And we circle closer and closer. I think I’ve described in general terms lunch-time in Japanese elementary schools before, but to give you a little better picture of what happens – lunch period officially begins at 12:30. It’s at this time that about six students put on their aprons and caps and head down to the ‘kitchen’ area and collect lunch and all of the dishware for the entire class. This usually consists of a basket full of bowls, plates, and chopsticks, a metal bucket full of rice, another containing soup and a smaller covered pan with the fish and / or pickled foods. Another pair of students head to the school refrigerators to collect the milk for the class. When they return to the classroom, these students set up an assembly line and serve their classmates. Nobody begins eating until everyone is served and the students on lunch duty for the day have removed their aprons and caps and settled down to eat.
This entire process often takes a good twenty to twenty-five minutes. I’ve seen it take up to thirty minutes a few times. It’s odd to me how these students react at lunch-time - it’s beyond patient and bordering on the apathetic. We can have our food sitting in front of us for ten minutes and the kids never act annoyed or even curious as to why we haven’t started eating yet. I have to admit, I become both curious and annoyed, though I try to hide it.
My point – and yes, I do have one – is that I often have ten or fifteen minutes to interact and observe the kids as we wait for our lunch to begin. The kids are often reading, drawing, playing cards, etc. Most importantly, they are often opening their desks, revealing their pencil cases. During this particular lunch, I didn’t immediately sit down and start talking with the kids at my particular lunch group. Instead, I wandered around the room on the lookout for that distinctive leaf. Almost immediately, I spied a very sweet and somewhat shy girl named Naoko open her desk, and sure enough, sitting on top of her Winnie the Pooh folder, was her metal pencil case in that distinctive green color and covered with outlines of cannabis leaves. On the corner of the case, however, were the words ‘The Hemp Society.’ Now, Japan actually has a decently large hemp market, so I withheld judgment.
In the desk next to her, however, I hit jackpot. The boy threw open his desk to get his comic book to show his friends and next to it was his pencil case. It was black, green, and red striped and in big, black letters completely covering the top of the case, said ‘CANNABIS.’ I kind of caught his and Naoko’s eye, and tried to subtly look at the cases questioningly. Their faces as they looked back at me were the definition of childlike innocence. There was no hint of a smirk which I would have suspected.
I’ve had my eyes on the lookout since, and these particular pencil cases are everywhere and they seem as though they’re all from the same company or brand. And despite their wide dispersion throughout all of my schools, nobody seems to indicate that know what they represent.
But seeing young girls walk around with pencil cases advertising marijuana along with their Winnie the Pooh binders and their Hello Kitty pencils isn't the only incongruity to been found in Japan. A common sight in downtown Kumamoto are thin, young men with Clay Aiken hairdos and delicate features wearing oversized FUBU clothes, and small boutiques filled with lacy, frilly clothes and playing Bob Marley’s ‘Africa Unite’ on the speakers.
It’s like an entire country is in on the joke and nobody is blinking.
My Current Reading Material – Stanley Lombardo’s brilliant translation of Virgil’s Aeneid. Dr. Lombardo was a professor of mine at the University of Kansas and I’ve had the extraordinary pleasure of listening to him read from several of his translations, including Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. He brings such a modern voice to these classics, while still remaining faithful to the spirit of the author and work. I cannot recommend these translations more highly.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – Robert Johnson: The Complete Recordings. And next up – Eric Clapton’s 2004 album, Me and Mr. Johnson.
- Jenny
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
