Every Friday I teach two adult language classes. Sometimes it is really awkward and I find my self laughing at the jokes then realize that it was all in Japanese and I have no idea what anyone just said.
Recently, I have been enjoying my intermediate class.
They are always eager to ask me questions about American politics.
They cannot believe that Americans do not follow Japanese politics.
Currently, they are all Obama supporters.
Today the political questions got complicated. I started to kind of make up answers. Or told them that I do not know how to explain that in simple English and I will tell them next week. When really I started to feel bad about kind of making things up.
I could tell them that all Americans ... YES all Americans decide who will become President. Not some council or something. But ALL PEOPLE. We all get to vote on that fateful day. They did not know that. Fuck yea freedom.
Then we started to talk about stereotypes.
One guy said that he saw a Western movie about Japanese people and the husband was making his wife sleep with other men. In the movie, the man was giving his wife as a gesture of kindness.
The guy who saw the movie was like, "No way any woman I know would let her husband do that !"
I asked the women what they would do. Most of them shook their heads, looking a little embarassed.
My favorite student said she would take his money. "I would steal all money from man I share bed with."
I laughed and smiled telling her "I am glad you would take his money ... that is good."
Then she said, "No, I would take money and kill him before." As she made a stabbing gesutre.
Alright. That makes things even more interesting.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Thursday, February 7, 2008
The happenings of my head
ヶ ke
キ ki
ke ki
keki
CAKE!!!!!
キ ki
ke ki
keki
CAKE!!!!!
チ chi
ズ zu
chi zu
chizu
cheeseu!!!!
ド do
ナ na
ツ tsu
do na tsu
donatsu
doughnut!!!!
ヌ nu
ド do
nu do
nudo
nude!!!!!
donatsu
doughnut!!!!
ヌ nu
ド do
nu do
nudo
nude!!!!!
ウ u
イ i
ス su
キ ki
u i su ki
uisuki
whiskey!!!!
It has only taken me 6 months to get over the fact that I went to a Quaker school where I did not have to take tests, only write papers, therefore never properly learning the act of mundane memorazation that could be called studying.
But this thing called studying, memorizing answers that are only right or wrong, just makes everything even more Japanese.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Our one year anniversary
I am jumping the gun a little bit, our one year anniversary is not officially until February 17th, but I figured I would address it now.
Yes! It has been an entire year since Britney took a razor to those locks.
Her and I have really shared some special moments since then.
It was a year ago that I climbed into my car to drive through a snow storm to Washington DC. Then to have some strangers parallel park my car because I could not do it in the snow storm.
The next day I was able to bear my high heels long enough to score a job in Japan.
That night Rose picked me up off the sidewalk when the vodka and OJ/ unsalted icy road put me there more than once.
On the 17th I pulled myself out of Rose's bed well after the sun had finished its rounds.
Puffy eyed and hungover I walked into a potluck of young professional Washington DC types.
But there was Britney. Shaved head and all.
I am pretty sure it was even on CNN.
It was a moment of clarity for me. Britney understood. Britney got it.
I pulled it together for the rest of the night.
I was the highly emotional, hungover, high school friend of Rose's that people might have felt a little uneasy conversing with.
But, in a room full of expensive beer and really intelligent people talking about law school and politics ... I had Britney.
Britney only continued to really shine the next couple of weeks.
I was right there behind her. Supporting her every step of the way.
Paris in jail.
That was baby sh*t.
Britney with the umbrella.
Hardcore and awesome.
Thank you Britney.
I could not have asked for a better year.
Yes! It has been an entire year since Britney took a razor to those locks.
Her and I have really shared some special moments since then.
It was a year ago that I climbed into my car to drive through a snow storm to Washington DC. Then to have some strangers parallel park my car because I could not do it in the snow storm.
The next day I was able to bear my high heels long enough to score a job in Japan.
That night Rose picked me up off the sidewalk when the vodka and OJ/ unsalted icy road put me there more than once.
On the 17th I pulled myself out of Rose's bed well after the sun had finished its rounds.
Puffy eyed and hungover I walked into a potluck of young professional Washington DC types.
But there was Britney. Shaved head and all.
I am pretty sure it was even on CNN.
It was a moment of clarity for me. Britney understood. Britney got it.
I pulled it together for the rest of the night.
I was the highly emotional, hungover, high school friend of Rose's that people might have felt a little uneasy conversing with.
But, in a room full of expensive beer and really intelligent people talking about law school and politics ... I had Britney.
Britney only continued to really shine the next couple of weeks.
I was right there behind her. Supporting her every step of the way.
Paris in jail.
That was baby sh*t.
Britney with the umbrella.
Hardcore and awesome.
Thank you Britney.
I could not have asked for a better year.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
The Underdog
Everyday I am faced with the genuine option of being deaf, mute, and illiterate.
Luckily, the woman that sits to my right is proud of me when I am able to sound out keki or karaoke when written in Japanese script.
And the man that sits to my left will say "ohayo gozaimasu," even if our eyes do not meet for 45 minutes into the working day.
Too bad these subtleties do not allow me to understand what my coworkers are laughing about. Or what one of my students is crying about.
In moments of spontaneous giggles or tears, translations become something that disrupt the authentic eruption of emotion.
But these "gap years" spent in some confusion while problem solving is surely building character before I enter the "real world"....
Nope.
During an entire real world day of being mute, deaf, and illiterate I am sometimes curious as to why I chose to spend this defining year of my life as I am. Why I have decided to sign on to another such year. And how these years are significant movements to build upon.
I am currently able to understand Angel's mother. Why a tall, beautiful woman with amazing hair was so shy to walk into General Greene Elementary school and greet me in English. Why her demeanor changed so drastically when Isaiah's Spanish speaking father joined the rest of the moms who came to help the kids glue together a picture frame for Valentines day.
I know why Salvador seemed a little more at ease when his classmates were being told to "hurry up and finish their lunch" that was reminiscent of something his own mother would make for dinner.
I will replace arigato gozaimasu with thank you. I will eat pickled vegetables at lunch. But, some days I come across cultural familiarities and I find myself taking a deep sign of comfort.
Four months in a country is a long time. Six months in a country is when it begins to feel short.
I only just realized that a Japanese house would live up to American mansion standards if it has more than one room with holes in the floor that allow excessive cooking followed, of course, by eating.
And only six months does not provide me with the knowledge of how I find myself dressed up like a traditional Japanese bride, on a Saturday afternoon. Becoming the center of hundreds of strangers pictures. And being led around the room by a woman (whose name I forget) because I could not wear my glasses with that wig.
All I can do is try to someday build up the guts and smarts to be able to ask questions and remain patient enough to listen to the answers.
And think about that one elementary student who disrespects everything about English. But, in his frustration of my pretending to know NO Japanese he finally asks, "one or two?" Then he pretends not to smile.
Luckily, the woman that sits to my right is proud of me when I am able to sound out keki or karaoke when written in Japanese script.
And the man that sits to my left will say "ohayo gozaimasu," even if our eyes do not meet for 45 minutes into the working day.
Too bad these subtleties do not allow me to understand what my coworkers are laughing about. Or what one of my students is crying about.
In moments of spontaneous giggles or tears, translations become something that disrupt the authentic eruption of emotion.
But these "gap years" spent in some confusion while problem solving is surely building character before I enter the "real world"....
Nope.
During an entire real world day of being mute, deaf, and illiterate I am sometimes curious as to why I chose to spend this defining year of my life as I am. Why I have decided to sign on to another such year. And how these years are significant movements to build upon.
I am currently able to understand Angel's mother. Why a tall, beautiful woman with amazing hair was so shy to walk into General Greene Elementary school and greet me in English. Why her demeanor changed so drastically when Isaiah's Spanish speaking father joined the rest of the moms who came to help the kids glue together a picture frame for Valentines day.
I know why Salvador seemed a little more at ease when his classmates were being told to "hurry up and finish their lunch" that was reminiscent of something his own mother would make for dinner.
I will replace arigato gozaimasu with thank you. I will eat pickled vegetables at lunch. But, some days I come across cultural familiarities and I find myself taking a deep sign of comfort.
Four months in a country is a long time. Six months in a country is when it begins to feel short.
I only just realized that a Japanese house would live up to American mansion standards if it has more than one room with holes in the floor that allow excessive cooking followed, of course, by eating.
And only six months does not provide me with the knowledge of how I find myself dressed up like a traditional Japanese bride, on a Saturday afternoon. Becoming the center of hundreds of strangers pictures. And being led around the room by a woman (whose name I forget) because I could not wear my glasses with that wig.
All I can do is try to someday build up the guts and smarts to be able to ask questions and remain patient enough to listen to the answers.
And think about that one elementary student who disrespects everything about English. But, in his frustration of my pretending to know NO Japanese he finally asks, "one or two?" Then he pretends not to smile.
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