Japan_Bound
Friday, February 27, 2004
CAT Training and 15 minutes of fame . . .
CAT stands for "Communicative Ability Test." Maybe you didn't know this, but Nova has two kinds of lessons - in branch with a teacher present (that's what I do) or through the Multi Media Center (students learn via computer from home, and all the teachers teach via computer from the M.M. Center). When the M.M. Center opened 3 years ago its system of testing students and initially assessing their level was very different from the branches. That meant that a student who studied English both at a branch and through M.M. could be in two different levels at either - not a good thing. So Nova has decided to standardize the system; enter CAT Training for all the branch teachers. Because "Sales" is all I'll be doing at the new school in March, it was very important that I pass the test after CAT Training (which I did, thank God!). It was soooo boring, though! 4 hours non-stop of listening to training and being tested afterward - glad it's overwith and very relieved that I passed. Woo hoo! (I would like to mention that, were it up to me, I'd have standardized everything in the very beginning, so as not to have to spend precious company dollars re-training everyone. But that's just my humble opinion!).
As for my 15 minutes of fame (read previous entry if you don't know what I'm talking about). My Area Manager (the honchiest head honcho in Osaka) took me aside when I got to work today to mention that the President of the company called him yesterday to mention that he'd seen me on T.V. talking about the Nova policy about not interacting with students. I thought, oh shit, I'm in for it. But, as it turns out, the President wanted Michael (my A.M.) to thank me for representing the company/ conducting myself so professionally. Sweet, hey? I felt like patting myself on the back. We actually talked for about 20 minutes - he explained what exactly the lawsuit is about, and also thanked me personally and told me he was really glad it was me that got interviewed and not someone who was likely to badmouth the company just for kicks. I'd actually assumed that because so many Nova teachers were interviewed, my chances of actually making it on the air were pretty slim, but, in fact, I was the only teacher used in the news piece. I'm a celebrity! The teachers at my branch were mentioning it today, and I was shocked because I had no idea the news piece would even air so soon. So, that's enough tooting my own horn - I'm just happy no one's pissed at me and that they understand that I was caught off-guard by the questions (there's a clause in our contracts about not talking to the media about the company, so I really thought I was in for it!). ~Wipes brow.~
CAT stands for "Communicative Ability Test." Maybe you didn't know this, but Nova has two kinds of lessons - in branch with a teacher present (that's what I do) or through the Multi Media Center (students learn via computer from home, and all the teachers teach via computer from the M.M. Center). When the M.M. Center opened 3 years ago its system of testing students and initially assessing their level was very different from the branches. That meant that a student who studied English both at a branch and through M.M. could be in two different levels at either - not a good thing. So Nova has decided to standardize the system; enter CAT Training for all the branch teachers. Because "Sales" is all I'll be doing at the new school in March, it was very important that I pass the test after CAT Training (which I did, thank God!). It was soooo boring, though! 4 hours non-stop of listening to training and being tested afterward - glad it's overwith and very relieved that I passed. Woo hoo! (I would like to mention that, were it up to me, I'd have standardized everything in the very beginning, so as not to have to spend precious company dollars re-training everyone. But that's just my humble opinion!).
As for my 15 minutes of fame (read previous entry if you don't know what I'm talking about). My Area Manager (the honchiest head honcho in Osaka) took me aside when I got to work today to mention that the President of the company called him yesterday to mention that he'd seen me on T.V. talking about the Nova policy about not interacting with students. I thought, oh shit, I'm in for it. But, as it turns out, the President wanted Michael (my A.M.) to thank me for representing the company/ conducting myself so professionally. Sweet, hey? I felt like patting myself on the back. We actually talked for about 20 minutes - he explained what exactly the lawsuit is about, and also thanked me personally and told me he was really glad it was me that got interviewed and not someone who was likely to badmouth the company just for kicks. I'd actually assumed that because so many Nova teachers were interviewed, my chances of actually making it on the air were pretty slim, but, in fact, I was the only teacher used in the news piece. I'm a celebrity! The teachers at my branch were mentioning it today, and I was shocked because I had no idea the news piece would even air so soon. So, that's enough tooting my own horn - I'm just happy no one's pissed at me and that they understand that I was caught off-guard by the questions (there's a clause in our contracts about not talking to the media about the company, so I really thought I was in for it!). ~Wipes brow.~
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
My 15 minutes of fame . . .
Tonight after work a camera crew stopped me outside the school and asked if I'd mind doing an interview for Fuji Television. Having no idea what the interview would be about, I quickly agreed - how exciting to be on T.V. on Japan, especially since I've never been on T.V. anywhere!! I don't know if I've ever mentioned that when I signed my contract with Nova I had to agree not to associate with students outside the classroom; obviously most of the teachers do it discreetly, but if you ever get busted you'll get canned without any questions asked. Anyway, apparently a lawsuit has been brought up against Nova (not for the first time) about this clause in the contract, because it's not really illegal per say, but goes against the human rights code in Japan. I didn't know that, and didn't know that that would be the topic of the interview. Fortunately I was able to answer the questions honestly but in such a way that I wouldn't be jeopardizing my job! I could tell the interviewer was hoping I'd give her something juicy, such as admitting that I socialize with students or something (which I don't), but because I was aware that the "powers that be" would probably see the interview I had to be careful. Anyway, it was really cool to do and I wasn't at all nervous - I even made sure to look directly into the camera periodically. There you have it - my 15 minutes of fame! Unfortunately I don't get that channel in my apartment, so I'm hoping I'll be able to find the story online some time. Yay me - now I'm really famous! Ha ha! Only until my boss pulls me aside to question me about this . . .
Tonight after work a camera crew stopped me outside the school and asked if I'd mind doing an interview for Fuji Television. Having no idea what the interview would be about, I quickly agreed - how exciting to be on T.V. on Japan, especially since I've never been on T.V. anywhere!! I don't know if I've ever mentioned that when I signed my contract with Nova I had to agree not to associate with students outside the classroom; obviously most of the teachers do it discreetly, but if you ever get busted you'll get canned without any questions asked. Anyway, apparently a lawsuit has been brought up against Nova (not for the first time) about this clause in the contract, because it's not really illegal per say, but goes against the human rights code in Japan. I didn't know that, and didn't know that that would be the topic of the interview. Fortunately I was able to answer the questions honestly but in such a way that I wouldn't be jeopardizing my job! I could tell the interviewer was hoping I'd give her something juicy, such as admitting that I socialize with students or something (which I don't), but because I was aware that the "powers that be" would probably see the interview I had to be careful. Anyway, it was really cool to do and I wasn't at all nervous - I even made sure to look directly into the camera periodically. There you have it - my 15 minutes of fame! Unfortunately I don't get that channel in my apartment, so I'm hoping I'll be able to find the story online some time. Yay me - now I'm really famous! Ha ha! Only until my boss pulls me aside to question me about this . . .
Sunday, February 22, 2004
Spring has sprung!!! . . .
My students have told me that the first day of the year with heavy wind and rain indicates the start of spring, or the rainy season. If that is the case, then we're in it. I don't have much to report right now except to tell you that it was 22 degrees today (apparently unheard of for February, so everyone is worrying about how hot the summer is going to be) and that right now we're having a HUGE and amazing thunderstorm. I'd stay and write a novel, but I have to go watch the lightning. Talk to you soon!
My students have told me that the first day of the year with heavy wind and rain indicates the start of spring, or the rainy season. If that is the case, then we're in it. I don't have much to report right now except to tell you that it was 22 degrees today (apparently unheard of for February, so everyone is worrying about how hot the summer is going to be) and that right now we're having a HUGE and amazing thunderstorm. I'd stay and write a novel, but I have to go watch the lightning. Talk to you soon!
Saturday, February 14, 2004
Some days I forget I'm in Japan, but I'm quickly reminded . . .
(WARNING: DO NOT READ IF YOU'VE JUST EATEN!!)
It's true - some days I really do forget I'm in Japan, but then something happens that I just KNOW wouldn't happen at home, and I'm quickly slammed right back into reality and it all hits me like a ton of bricks. Case in point:
While riding home from work on the train tonight, I noticed a guy across from me playing with his mouth. I couldn't figure out what he was doing until I realized that he'd pulled out his top dentures (I think it's called a bridge?). Anyway, that's not actually the gross part. The gross part is that for the next 20 minutes he procedeed to suck on it and pick at it with his FILTHY finger nails and whatever miscellaneous items he was pulling out of his pocket. Then, I guess when he was satisfied that he'd removed whatever offending item was troubling him, he just popped it back in his mouth. I'm not kidding! I kept trying not to look and had to promise myself over and over that I would not bring up my dinner, but it was morbidly fascinating; like a bad accident I guess. Even now while I'm typing this I can't believe it actually happened. Things like that happen every day here, but it still baffles me. If this kind of thing doesn't cause culture shock, I don't know what does.
Anyway, since I got such a kick out of this, I thought you might too. Hope no one is too grossed out!
(WARNING: DO NOT READ IF YOU'VE JUST EATEN!!)
It's true - some days I really do forget I'm in Japan, but then something happens that I just KNOW wouldn't happen at home, and I'm quickly slammed right back into reality and it all hits me like a ton of bricks. Case in point:
While riding home from work on the train tonight, I noticed a guy across from me playing with his mouth. I couldn't figure out what he was doing until I realized that he'd pulled out his top dentures (I think it's called a bridge?). Anyway, that's not actually the gross part. The gross part is that for the next 20 minutes he procedeed to suck on it and pick at it with his FILTHY finger nails and whatever miscellaneous items he was pulling out of his pocket. Then, I guess when he was satisfied that he'd removed whatever offending item was troubling him, he just popped it back in his mouth. I'm not kidding! I kept trying not to look and had to promise myself over and over that I would not bring up my dinner, but it was morbidly fascinating; like a bad accident I guess. Even now while I'm typing this I can't believe it actually happened. Things like that happen every day here, but it still baffles me. If this kind of thing doesn't cause culture shock, I don't know what does.
Anyway, since I got such a kick out of this, I thought you might too. Hope no one is too grossed out!
Thursday, February 12, 2004
Some funny stuff happens when you're an ESL teacher . . .
As promised, here's some of the funny stuff that's happened to me while teaching. This has been an ongoing list since I got here, and I'll keep updating it as I go along. Enjoy!
Kumiko, what are your hobbies? I go to shopping and play ski.
Kazuhiro, what is your job? I am clinical sy-tit-ratist. (clinical psychiatrist)
Fumiko, what are your hobbies? I drink Chinese tea.
Goichiro, do you have much free time? No, my time is very expensive.
Rie, have you ever been abroad? No, I am always small.
Do you know eachother? (to three students) No, we have many lessons together.
Sake, how long have you been studying English? Oh, I never study.
Chie, are you married? No, I hate slaves.
Mariko, when are you due? (I KNEW she's pregnant) I study English and clean my room.
Hiroshi, what do you do on the weekend? I hang over in my room.
Satoshi, how are you? I'm fine. How's up? (his cross between how's it going and what's up)
Masako, what is your job? I am internet at sales company. (he meant intern)
Kana, what do you order at restaurants? Hmmm... at some restaurant I like the French fried thing, and at Japanese restaurant I like the Japanese fried thing. (she loves french fries and tempura)
Kumi, what does your father do? (meaning what is his job?) He plays with my mother. (apparently they love tennis)
Sachiko, if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go? I go to Nova.
AND THE TOP TWO COMMENTS OF 2003 ARE:
Michiko, what are your hobbies? I like doing American gays. (she meant dating American guys)
Takashi, what could you do when you were 2? I could eat my mother. (I'm not kidding)
There you have it . . . could you have kept a straight face during some of those? I deserve an Oscar!!
The most occuring answers to the question "What is your hobby?" are: driving, drinking, and sleeping.
If I had a dime for every time I hear "I am office worker," I'd be rich.
We also have some students who are just funny in general . . .
Mr. Jukebox: Affectionately named because all he does in his lessons is sing (usually Beatles songs), bang on the desk, shout bum-bum-bum like drum beats, and recite Shakespearean sonnets to the female students.
Mrs. Crazy Kimono Lady: It's not the kimonos that are crazy. It's her twitching and maniacal laughter (it's actually kind of scary at times).
Mr. Picks-His-Nose-And-Eats-It: I'm not kidding. All the time. Right in class, with everyone trying to pretend they didn't see it.
And some funny cultural? things . . .
The Japanese often wear those white masks out in public when they have colds (to be polite) but they take them off in class! So, what's the point? . . . hmmm . . .
Students who are deathly ill; I mean eyes streaming, noses running, coughing like crazy, and just looking like shit, will tell us confidentially that they've called in sick to work that day - but they STILL come to Nova to infect the rest of us!
Little old ladies that I could seemingly snap in half with one hand will literally ram their elbows into my ribs and knock me flying so that they can get onto or off of the train before me. I hope I'm that strong but not that rude when I'm old!
Parents send their children to school in mandatory uniforms. These consist, at all ages, of short skirts for the girls and short shorts for the boys. They wear these all year round no matter what the weather/temperature is like, and can't cover them with jackets.
As promised, here's some of the funny stuff that's happened to me while teaching. This has been an ongoing list since I got here, and I'll keep updating it as I go along. Enjoy!
Kumiko, what are your hobbies? I go to shopping and play ski.
Kazuhiro, what is your job? I am clinical sy-tit-ratist. (clinical psychiatrist)
Fumiko, what are your hobbies? I drink Chinese tea.
Goichiro, do you have much free time? No, my time is very expensive.
Rie, have you ever been abroad? No, I am always small.
Do you know eachother? (to three students) No, we have many lessons together.
Sake, how long have you been studying English? Oh, I never study.
Chie, are you married? No, I hate slaves.
Mariko, when are you due? (I KNEW she's pregnant) I study English and clean my room.
Hiroshi, what do you do on the weekend? I hang over in my room.
Satoshi, how are you? I'm fine. How's up? (his cross between how's it going and what's up)
Masako, what is your job? I am internet at sales company. (he meant intern)
Kana, what do you order at restaurants? Hmmm... at some restaurant I like the French fried thing, and at Japanese restaurant I like the Japanese fried thing. (she loves french fries and tempura)
Kumi, what does your father do? (meaning what is his job?) He plays with my mother. (apparently they love tennis)
Sachiko, if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go? I go to Nova.
AND THE TOP TWO COMMENTS OF 2003 ARE:
Michiko, what are your hobbies? I like doing American gays. (she meant dating American guys)
Takashi, what could you do when you were 2? I could eat my mother. (I'm not kidding)
There you have it . . . could you have kept a straight face during some of those? I deserve an Oscar!!
The most occuring answers to the question "What is your hobby?" are: driving, drinking, and sleeping.
If I had a dime for every time I hear "I am office worker," I'd be rich.
We also have some students who are just funny in general . . .
Mr. Jukebox: Affectionately named because all he does in his lessons is sing (usually Beatles songs), bang on the desk, shout bum-bum-bum like drum beats, and recite Shakespearean sonnets to the female students.
Mrs. Crazy Kimono Lady: It's not the kimonos that are crazy. It's her twitching and maniacal laughter (it's actually kind of scary at times).
Mr. Picks-His-Nose-And-Eats-It: I'm not kidding. All the time. Right in class, with everyone trying to pretend they didn't see it.
And some funny cultural? things . . .
The Japanese often wear those white masks out in public when they have colds (to be polite) but they take them off in class! So, what's the point? . . . hmmm . . .
Students who are deathly ill; I mean eyes streaming, noses running, coughing like crazy, and just looking like shit, will tell us confidentially that they've called in sick to work that day - but they STILL come to Nova to infect the rest of us!
Little old ladies that I could seemingly snap in half with one hand will literally ram their elbows into my ribs and knock me flying so that they can get onto or off of the train before me. I hope I'm that strong but not that rude when I'm old!
Parents send their children to school in mandatory uniforms. These consist, at all ages, of short skirts for the girls and short shorts for the boys. They wear these all year round no matter what the weather/temperature is like, and can't cover them with jackets.
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
Dad, what's "Chocolate Brownie Bing?" . . .
For those of you who don't know why I've been affectionately nicknamed "Bing," this story won't be that funny, but for those of you who do know why, this will probably land you one of the biggest laughs of your life. For the past several months I've been having casual conversation in passing with one of the Chinese teachers at my branch; however, I never knew his name until today. It is, you guessed it, Bing. When I told him that that's my nickname he, of course, wanted to know why. So I proceeded to tell him (by the way, he speaks English fluently, so nothing got lost in translation). After telling him, he didn't laugh at me or anything and I couldn't figure out why, since everyone else laughs hysterically at me even after all these years. I don't know why, but I decided to ask him what Bing means. You'll never believe this, but it's absolutely true: Bing in Chinese means ice. Ice cream in Chinese is "bing chih lin." He said that many ice cream flavours in China are called "___ bing" (for example chocolate in Chinese-bing). Well, as I'm sure you can imagine, I laughed my ass off and had tears streaming down my face. After all these years, some retribution. Turns out it wasn't such a stupid thing to ask afterall, and since I recall that the owners of that little ice cream shop we went to were Chinese, it looks like I get the last laugh. I was so excited to race home and tell you that, after all these years, the joke's on you. I'm still laughing as I think about it now. It's probably fate that I came here and heard this from a Chinese guy, namely a Chinese guy named Bing. In your face, suckers!!!
On a different note, something else happened today that was really cool. The head honcho at my branch took me aside today to tell me about a new Nova branch that's opening in the general vicinity of Umeda Honko (my home/regular branch). He asked me to help out there for the first month that it opens, which means I'll be there the very first day it opens! I'll be helping the trainers to train and evaluate new teachers, I'll be assessing the new students, helping out with paperwork and administrative stuff etc. I'm so excited. Apparently it's a huge honour to be asked to help with opening a new branch, so I absolutely took it that way. Yayyy!!
What an interesting day! I'm coming down with the dreaded Japanese plague AGAIN (Grrrr...) and looking forward to having my weekend so that I can relax. Friday I'm going to get a much needed haircut, but other than that I plan to stay off my feet. If I have a chance tomorrow I'm going to sit down and write the blog entry I've promised about funny stuff that's happened to me while teaching. As I'm thinking right now about the said funny stuff, I'm laughing like a maniac - some really funny stuff happens when things get lost in translation. Chow for now!!
For those of you who don't know why I've been affectionately nicknamed "Bing," this story won't be that funny, but for those of you who do know why, this will probably land you one of the biggest laughs of your life. For the past several months I've been having casual conversation in passing with one of the Chinese teachers at my branch; however, I never knew his name until today. It is, you guessed it, Bing. When I told him that that's my nickname he, of course, wanted to know why. So I proceeded to tell him (by the way, he speaks English fluently, so nothing got lost in translation). After telling him, he didn't laugh at me or anything and I couldn't figure out why, since everyone else laughs hysterically at me even after all these years. I don't know why, but I decided to ask him what Bing means. You'll never believe this, but it's absolutely true: Bing in Chinese means ice. Ice cream in Chinese is "bing chih lin." He said that many ice cream flavours in China are called "___ bing" (for example chocolate in Chinese-bing). Well, as I'm sure you can imagine, I laughed my ass off and had tears streaming down my face. After all these years, some retribution. Turns out it wasn't such a stupid thing to ask afterall, and since I recall that the owners of that little ice cream shop we went to were Chinese, it looks like I get the last laugh. I was so excited to race home and tell you that, after all these years, the joke's on you. I'm still laughing as I think about it now. It's probably fate that I came here and heard this from a Chinese guy, namely a Chinese guy named Bing. In your face, suckers!!!
On a different note, something else happened today that was really cool. The head honcho at my branch took me aside today to tell me about a new Nova branch that's opening in the general vicinity of Umeda Honko (my home/regular branch). He asked me to help out there for the first month that it opens, which means I'll be there the very first day it opens! I'll be helping the trainers to train and evaluate new teachers, I'll be assessing the new students, helping out with paperwork and administrative stuff etc. I'm so excited. Apparently it's a huge honour to be asked to help with opening a new branch, so I absolutely took it that way. Yayyy!!
What an interesting day! I'm coming down with the dreaded Japanese plague AGAIN (Grrrr...) and looking forward to having my weekend so that I can relax. Friday I'm going to get a much needed haircut, but other than that I plan to stay off my feet. If I have a chance tomorrow I'm going to sit down and write the blog entry I've promised about funny stuff that's happened to me while teaching. As I'm thinking right now about the said funny stuff, I'm laughing like a maniac - some really funny stuff happens when things get lost in translation. Chow for now!!
Monday, February 09, 2004
What yours truly does at work every day . . .
I realized today that I always mention how well things are going at work, or that my job is tiring, or that I spend the better part of each day laughing and enjoying myself, but I've never actually told you what my job entails. So here's a run-down of what each lesson is like, and then some day soon I'll tell you about some of the really funny stuff that's happened in some of my lessons.
First, the classes are organized according to a student's ability. When they first start at Nova their ability is assessed and then they are placed in the appropriate level. 7C is the first and lowest level - in this level all students are expected to be able to do is tell us simple things about themselves, such as their job. Then 7B when more vocabulary is introduced and simple tenses like past, present and future. Then 7A where lots of vocabulary, everyday expressions, and less simple tenses like past progressive are introduced. Then 6 and 5 which are fairly similar in terms of lesson difficulty; they both focus on certain kinds of vocabulary and natural expression and the past perfect progressive and present perfect progressive tenses, but ability in either is based more on fluency when speaking and listening comprehension. Level 4 is the beginning level of what we call our "high levels;" it is a review of all the tenses, but focuses on building increasingly difficult vocabulary, natural expressions and idioms, and the text is more difficult. Level 3 is basically the same as level 4 but focuses more on student-based discussions; in this level they're expected to rely on the teacher much less. Level 2 focuses completely on natural sounding language; working toward sounding like a native English speaker, perfecting any problems they might still be having etc. And finally Level 1 (in the entire company, there is only one Level 1 student) is considered to be the equivalent of a native speaker's ability.
In theory each lesson should be comprised of students with similar ability, but this isn't always the case. If a student displays the necessary skills in a given level, 2 teachers recommend a "Level Up," the student takes a Level Up test, and pass or fail (I know) goes on to the next level. This system works on most levels; however, if a student is threatening to cancel or not renew their contract, the teachers are often subtly urged to level a student up. The result is that the classes are often comprised of varying levels of ability; frustrating for the stronger students, and difficult for the weaker students. Fortunately there are techniques one can use to address each students' needs individually even though it's a group setting. At my branch the maximum amount of students in each lesson is 3, and at some other branches it's 4. Students can also book a "Man to Man" lesson in which they must pay for all 3 seats but get lots of focused attention. Of course when we get M2M lessons on our schedules we hope for "No Shows," which happens alot. During free lessons we just do paperwork, mark level up tests, put files away, look for missing files etc. Each student has a file with their name and student number written on it; there are several things in each file. The first is a mark-off sheet with numbers that correspond to each text book lesson; we have to record what lessons the students have done so they're not doing the same one they just did a week ago or something like that. The next thing is a section where we record any alternative lessons we might have done (we have to be creative because the texts get very boring very quickly, for us and the students). The final things are the progress sheets, sectioned off for each lesson - there are spaces for the date, the teacher's name, the number of the lesson, comments, and rating (we rate on a scale of 1-5 things like Listening Comprehension, Vocabulary, Effort, Fluency, Grammar, Intonation and Pronunciation).
Here's what a typical day looks like for me:
As soon as I arrive at work I copy down my schedule - which includes lesson time, level, and student numbers, and class number. Then I pull the files (arranged around the staff room according to level) and pick a lesson. The lesson has to be one that none of the students have done, or that none of the students have done recently (preferably in the last 2 months). Then, if necessary, I'll collect props or alternative materials; for example, if we're practicing phone conversations with lower level students we'll use plastic phones, or if we're having a discussion lesson with higher level students we'll take a newspaper article. Fortunately Nova is a really good company in terms of employing a committee whose only job is to come up with supplementary materials; different activities and stuff that can be applied to the text book lessons. Then it's off to class, the time for which is indicated by a chiming bell that plays throughout the entire school. The students are already sitting in the appropriate classroom when the teachers get there (well, some are late!), usually chatting away in Japanese. So in I'll go, huge smile on my face, being warm and friendly (even when it hurts!!). When we train at Nova we're taught several mandatory steps to follow for teaching a lesson, so that all the bases are covered, but the longer we've been there we're expected to incorporate the things that must be learned with our own teaching style.
Each lesson in the beginning followed this general pattern:
Warm-up: Introductions, talking about jobs and hobbies.
Introduction: Preteach any necessary vocab etc. which applies to lesson, students brainstorm etc.
Picture Speculation: Students turn to the lesson, cover the text, and talk about the picture/s.
Listening Task: Assign questions, teacher reads, students must answer questions (that's why they cover text in Pic Spec)
Listen & Repeat: Students listen to the teacher, and repeat what the teacher said (for pronunciation).
Drills: Students practice dialogue with minimal prompting (for example, I'd say "We - we're going to go to the mall." Then I'd say I, and the student would have to say "I'm going to go to the mall.")
Silent Reading: Students read a passage of text to themselves, than answer verbal questions about it afterward.
Application: Students take all the vocab and dialogue they've been practicing and apply it to role plays; they can role play about shopping, complaining, being lost, whatever applies to each lesson.
Application Follow-up: Teacher gives feedback (positive and negative), and if there's time they practice again.
Then the bell goes and we're given 10 minutes to complete those files, pull the files for the next class and plan the lesson. You can see why the day goes so fast, because it's just bang-bang-bang all day.
Another really great thing about this company is the teachers are constantly going to seminars that give us 100s of ideas for activities. When I have my 6-month observation I'll be expected to incorporate some of these techniques into my lesson.
That's my job!
I realized today that I always mention how well things are going at work, or that my job is tiring, or that I spend the better part of each day laughing and enjoying myself, but I've never actually told you what my job entails. So here's a run-down of what each lesson is like, and then some day soon I'll tell you about some of the really funny stuff that's happened in some of my lessons.
First, the classes are organized according to a student's ability. When they first start at Nova their ability is assessed and then they are placed in the appropriate level. 7C is the first and lowest level - in this level all students are expected to be able to do is tell us simple things about themselves, such as their job. Then 7B when more vocabulary is introduced and simple tenses like past, present and future. Then 7A where lots of vocabulary, everyday expressions, and less simple tenses like past progressive are introduced. Then 6 and 5 which are fairly similar in terms of lesson difficulty; they both focus on certain kinds of vocabulary and natural expression and the past perfect progressive and present perfect progressive tenses, but ability in either is based more on fluency when speaking and listening comprehension. Level 4 is the beginning level of what we call our "high levels;" it is a review of all the tenses, but focuses on building increasingly difficult vocabulary, natural expressions and idioms, and the text is more difficult. Level 3 is basically the same as level 4 but focuses more on student-based discussions; in this level they're expected to rely on the teacher much less. Level 2 focuses completely on natural sounding language; working toward sounding like a native English speaker, perfecting any problems they might still be having etc. And finally Level 1 (in the entire company, there is only one Level 1 student) is considered to be the equivalent of a native speaker's ability.
In theory each lesson should be comprised of students with similar ability, but this isn't always the case. If a student displays the necessary skills in a given level, 2 teachers recommend a "Level Up," the student takes a Level Up test, and pass or fail (I know) goes on to the next level. This system works on most levels; however, if a student is threatening to cancel or not renew their contract, the teachers are often subtly urged to level a student up. The result is that the classes are often comprised of varying levels of ability; frustrating for the stronger students, and difficult for the weaker students. Fortunately there are techniques one can use to address each students' needs individually even though it's a group setting. At my branch the maximum amount of students in each lesson is 3, and at some other branches it's 4. Students can also book a "Man to Man" lesson in which they must pay for all 3 seats but get lots of focused attention. Of course when we get M2M lessons on our schedules we hope for "No Shows," which happens alot. During free lessons we just do paperwork, mark level up tests, put files away, look for missing files etc. Each student has a file with their name and student number written on it; there are several things in each file. The first is a mark-off sheet with numbers that correspond to each text book lesson; we have to record what lessons the students have done so they're not doing the same one they just did a week ago or something like that. The next thing is a section where we record any alternative lessons we might have done (we have to be creative because the texts get very boring very quickly, for us and the students). The final things are the progress sheets, sectioned off for each lesson - there are spaces for the date, the teacher's name, the number of the lesson, comments, and rating (we rate on a scale of 1-5 things like Listening Comprehension, Vocabulary, Effort, Fluency, Grammar, Intonation and Pronunciation).
Here's what a typical day looks like for me:
As soon as I arrive at work I copy down my schedule - which includes lesson time, level, and student numbers, and class number. Then I pull the files (arranged around the staff room according to level) and pick a lesson. The lesson has to be one that none of the students have done, or that none of the students have done recently (preferably in the last 2 months). Then, if necessary, I'll collect props or alternative materials; for example, if we're practicing phone conversations with lower level students we'll use plastic phones, or if we're having a discussion lesson with higher level students we'll take a newspaper article. Fortunately Nova is a really good company in terms of employing a committee whose only job is to come up with supplementary materials; different activities and stuff that can be applied to the text book lessons. Then it's off to class, the time for which is indicated by a chiming bell that plays throughout the entire school. The students are already sitting in the appropriate classroom when the teachers get there (well, some are late!), usually chatting away in Japanese. So in I'll go, huge smile on my face, being warm and friendly (even when it hurts!!). When we train at Nova we're taught several mandatory steps to follow for teaching a lesson, so that all the bases are covered, but the longer we've been there we're expected to incorporate the things that must be learned with our own teaching style.
Each lesson in the beginning followed this general pattern:
Warm-up: Introductions, talking about jobs and hobbies.
Introduction: Preteach any necessary vocab etc. which applies to lesson, students brainstorm etc.
Picture Speculation: Students turn to the lesson, cover the text, and talk about the picture/s.
Listening Task: Assign questions, teacher reads, students must answer questions (that's why they cover text in Pic Spec)
Listen & Repeat: Students listen to the teacher, and repeat what the teacher said (for pronunciation).
Drills: Students practice dialogue with minimal prompting (for example, I'd say "We - we're going to go to the mall." Then I'd say I, and the student would have to say "I'm going to go to the mall.")
Silent Reading: Students read a passage of text to themselves, than answer verbal questions about it afterward.
Application: Students take all the vocab and dialogue they've been practicing and apply it to role plays; they can role play about shopping, complaining, being lost, whatever applies to each lesson.
Application Follow-up: Teacher gives feedback (positive and negative), and if there's time they practice again.
Then the bell goes and we're given 10 minutes to complete those files, pull the files for the next class and plan the lesson. You can see why the day goes so fast, because it's just bang-bang-bang all day.
Another really great thing about this company is the teachers are constantly going to seminars that give us 100s of ideas for activities. When I have my 6-month observation I'll be expected to incorporate some of these techniques into my lesson.
That's my job!
Sunday, February 08, 2004
Some teasers from the book I'm working on (I can't believe I'm sharing this stuff - I'll have to take a deep breath and click "Publish" without thinking!!).
CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED - THERE ARE DIRTY BITS! HOW DARE I!
Although I rarely dream, I now find myself haunted by day and night. I know not what my unseen stalker is, know not from what I run, know nothing at all about the shadows breathing down my neck. All I know is that I'm afraid. I have good relationships with people, enjoy a successful career, do the things we're supposed to do. But always, waiting over my shoulder, feeding off of my every thought and action, is my greatest dread. And believe me when I tell you that there is nothing more terrifying, more lonely, and more isolating than a life spent running away from nothingness. This is the story of a life, my life, and I share it only because I would die without a place to set it down. I won't be surprised if you greet my words with disbelief; sometimes I barely believe it myself. Know only that in reaching out I steal back some of my autonomy and dignity; indeed, the very last vestiges of my humanity.
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Years later, in a crowded and poorly lit gymnasium, I searched the crowd for a friendly face, and barring that, a familiar one. Scanning the crowd, my stomach dropped as the courage that had led me there finally fled. My only motivation in going had been to see the girls I had so dearly loved, and as I spotted them across the way I felt a pang of regret to learn that, in my absence, they had become women. Theirs were lives intertwined; in the years I'd spent escaping they had grown closer still and although I'd had my own reasons for leaving them behind, I now felt some regret to think that I was a stranger. As soon as they spotted me things became a blur; of over-perfumed hugs, smiles teetering on the brink of fake, loud inquiring voices. Losing myself in the myriad of questions that ensued I began to feel some panic; would they notice the weight I'd gained or ask too many questions that I wasn't prepared to answer?
The thing about high school reunions is that time warps and all of a sudden you're back in a room with people who, despite their best efforts to hide it under designer suits, lists of credentials and tales of domestic bliss, are every bit as insecure as they were in their teens.
I began to search the faces of these women that excitedly surrounded me, desperately hoping to see in them an iota of the emotion washing over me. Here were the girls I'd done all my dreaming and planning with. They knew my deepest, darkest secrets, had nursed me through countless heartbreaks, and had done the damage control that salvages any high school reputation. I saw in each of these women the girls that they had been what seemed like only yesterday; but now, where children had been, were wives, mothers, fiances and career women. And I began to ache inside. For the girl that I had been and for the years of friendship I had missed out on.
I listened to tale after tale of the things these women had done; cruises, trips to Europe, flings with handsome strangers, wild nights, bridesmaid dresses and baby showers. I had had no such adventures and had had no part in the milestones of their lives; the milestones I'd been there to dream about with them so many years before. Nothing can guage the feelings of failure in your soul like the proof of another's success, and here I stood with a dozen girls who'd started out just like me but had seemingly become so much more.
I spent the rest of that evening like so many others in my life; smiling so hard it hurt, terrified that someone would see the tears continuously threatening to well up in the corners of my stinging eyes. I felt like I had in 12th Grade History, desperately waiting for the bell to ring and finally rescue me. And at the last, when people slowly started to trickle away, the lump in my throat grew bigger still.
I hated good-byes. These were no different than any other; promises to keep in touch, to not be strangers, to get together soon. We promised these things knowing they weren't true; God knows why we do this but we do - it's one of the unspoken social rules. No one wants to hurt feelings by actually telling the truth; no we'll never speak again unless we accidentally bump into one another, because neither of us truly cares enough to make the effort. Friendships change as rapidly as waistlines and bank accounts, the dynamics of which are beyond our understanding. Perhaps I'd clung to these because I'd hoped to preserve the last vestiges of my youth.
If asked, most of us would rather die than go back to the misery of high school. High school is never really about learning scholastic things; it's more about learning your place in the world. There you are taught whether you're attractive or ugly, popular or socially inept, lovable or forgettable. High school is the most painful part of growing up; it encapsulates and emphasizes all of our insecurites - even causes them - and sets us up to carry them for the rest of our days. In high school your very life hangs in the balance and your social standing changes with the weather. It hurts. And you never know up from down, often feeling very much alone in the world, even when surrounded by your closest friends. Maybe it hurts so much because we know that none of it can last. And yet, despite all the turmoil and heartache we often yearn to go back, even if only for a moment. I think we choose a few moments and attempt to immortalize them, often assuming that those are the things we'd feel given the chance to go back. Who wouldn't want to go back and relive the passion of their first "real" kiss? Or stand in the crowded gymnasium of their youth with their sweetheart, feeling like love lasts forever? If I allow myself, I can go back to a million such times; smell the cut grass on the field where I first made out with a boy, and feel the stickiness of Sarah's vomit as I nursed her through her first hangover, praying to God that her parents wouldn't come home. We forget that life wasn't always so carefree and frivolous because we choose to. Because we have to believe that life was somehow better than it is now. Because we refuse to admit to ourselves that atleast one fraction of our confused, messed-up lives, wasn't perfect.
I realized as I hugged these women, presumably for the last time, that we could never go back, never make up for the time that had passed, or retrieve what had long since died. I had to believe that their lives aren't as perfect as they appeared to be, or my struggles will have been in vain. I felt that night that I was letting go of much more than some girlfriends from my past. I was, instead, letting go of me. And as I walked, alone, across the gym, past so many faces, and finally through the doors, a slow smile began to take shape upon my wiser face. They'd all said that night, "Oh you haven't changed a bit." Shows how much they know.
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People tell me that it's impossible to be in love with something intangible and I'd probably agree if I hadn't been experiencing my own heartache over the past several months. I think it's easier and more comfortable for people to assume that I have emotional problems or mental issues, rather than take a leap of faith and try to see my point of view. They think I don't see the knowing looks that pass between them and it's far easier to pretend that I don't, rather than get into another philosophical debate about what I know is possible. I've learned not to care what others think, not to devote anymore time to their opinions; not only are they too damaging, but they make me start to doubt that you exist. And it hurts because I know that you do, that I love you, that I lived a life with you, and I can't find you in this fast-paced world I've been thrust into against my will.
I miss you. Every day is another spent in agony and it hurts sometimes to breathe. Every day I grow more and more terrified that I'm forgetting your voice, that I'll forget the purple flecks in your eyes, that I'll forget how much you loved banana shakes in the morning, that I'll forget the way you smelled wrapped around me every night. The dreams grow more and more infrequent, your face fading from my days then coming back again, startling me awake with all the ferocity of the band squeezing itself around my heart. Some days are easier than others now, and I feel guilty about it; like if I smile or laugh I'm moving a little farther away from you and what we had together. I suppose this is, in a lot of ways, like a death, except none of the rules apply now. There isn't a person in the world who can help me get to you now. I haven't yet mentioned the hard days, when I find myself in so much pain that I can barely squeeze any breaths past it. I haven't tried to explain the excrutiating hollowness that threatens to collapse my chest, or the grief I find causing me to retreat from the world and to my bed. It's always there, underneath everything that I do, even when I curl myself around it trying to hold in my guts and my anguish. There is nothing in the world to cure me. Nothing in the world to comfort me. Nothing at all to provide a path that meanders back to you. And I'm lost in this; the blood and guts of loneliness, and the isolation borne of a refusal to return to the land of the living.
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6 months, 13 days, 5 hours, and still no sign of you. I haven't dreamt about you in six months, but I can still hear your laughter and taste your lips if I close my eyes long enough to conjure a fragment of what was. I wonder now if I'll ever find you again, if you're even there to find. I'm trying so hard to want something else, to search for another source of happiness, but even a hint of a memory of you makes me feel guilty again, like a traitor, as some small part of me believes that you're out there somewhere still searching for me. I guess I have to believe that you believe in my existence or all of this is meaningless and I am pining away over nothing. I refuse to believe that this is even a remote possibilty because I believe that I would know if I were crazy. I'd have to know wouldn't I? I mean, people don't just all of a sudden go stark raving mad and still believe they're sane, do they? I certainly hope not.
All I know is that your absence from my life is affecting me on so many levels. I can't work, I can barely eat, can't sleep, can't pursue love again. I can't even begin to think about being disloyal to your memory. Worst of all I can't even look at myself while standing in front of a mirror, because I don't trust myself or what I see there.
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I love you and I hate you as I walk the finest line there ever was, and live the largest lie ever born of this dichotomous hell I'm in. I want to slap that stupid smile off of your face and erase any trace of her touch on your skin; skin I'd hoped could be reserved only for me. I can't believe she shared that time with you, only inches away from the heart aching inside my chest. I am undone, scared to close my eyes because it's no longer me I picture there beside you. I can't. I hate you. I hate this stupid fucking life I'm in. I hate that I can't take my place beside you, take the place of any mundane conquest that comes along. I hate most that I have no right to feel this way, that you barely know I exist with so many willing nymphs lining up to block my way, with so many obstacles making me so inconsequential to your pursuits. So easy now to say good-bye. But I don't say good-bye to anyone.
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I wonder if you long to smell my hair or run your fingers through it. I wonder if you've spent any time at all picturing me, wanting me, needing me, as I ache inside for you. I want to stamp myself onto your body, rape away every inhibition that you've ever had, share parts of myself with you that I don't even know exist. When you walk by, when you're close by, every inch of me feels you there, breathes you there, and prays for time to stop so that I, with all my insecurities, can leave everything and everyone behind, and be only in the moment there with you. The funny thing about desire is that it's bittersweet and that it's not without consequences, and so I can't have you and my life at the same time. Instead I retreat to daydreams where it's always safe to imagine the things I'd do to you if only given the chance.
This is like nothing I've experienced before; I've never known a hunger quite like this. Every waking moment I spend imagining myself wrapped up in heat and you, tattooing you with all the promise of what we could be together. Night after night I wake barely able to breathe, having left your arms only moments before, and I can feel the remnants of your touch on my skin, taste the lips I long to savour, as I shudder from the heat of the heights you've brought me to. I want to devour you, all of you; caress you with my lips, bathe you with my tongue, take you so far in that you can no longer be found. And in my dreams I do all of that and more, but must leave you reluctantly behind every morning as the sun comes up. I close my eyes hoping to conjure just a few more minutes with you, but you're that much farther away. All day long I can taste you, smell you, feel you, and survive only because I know that the night is sure to bring me closer still to you. And when you're actually nearby I never let on that I think all these crazy things. I am too much a coward to ever let you know, to ever put myself out of this misery.
And I am terrified; that some day you'll see it there in my eyes, or hear it in the breath that quickens at the slightest sign of you. I see your hands and wonder how they'd feel exploring my body, see your strength and wonder how I'd feel wrapped up in it, see you and know with every fiber of my being that I could make you happy. I could make you come to life, I could make you fly, you could shatter me and I'd let you do it over and over again. Instead I watch you from afar, smiling benignly as I stalk you with my eyes; desiring you, knowing you, craving every last part of you. And I can't have you, but the wanting you is enough to keep me going, enough to give me hope. When I smile at you, when I talk to you, when I accidentally brush your hand with mine know that a thousand sparks are flying and that I'm glad to have you to dream of.
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If I were to let go of this crazy dream of mine, what would happen to it? With no one left to conjure it, with nothing left to fuel it, would you disappear from my memory? I think not, resist its possibility, but know I stand to cause myself nothing but pain if I allow myself to believe for even a moment that a universe exists for you and I. I want to hold all of you deep inside me, where no one else has been, share everything with you and risk everything with you no matter what the cost. I want to give you so much of myself. I want to wrap myself up with you, with a heat that so chokes us we can only talk with our hands. I have so much to tell you. I wouldn't even know where to begin; except to worship your body with all of me and everything that I am and have. I want to know you, all of you, and celebrate the magic I see living there in your eyes.
I can't stand this, can't take another second of it, my body revolts against the thought of spending one more second without you. Every cel in my body is screaming, crying out to you in an attempt to tell you everything that I can't say out loud. I barely know you but love what I know, and I'm selfish - I want you all to myself. I don't want to share you with anyone and am terrified that some day soon someone else will captivate your senses and then you'll be even further from my grasp. I can't have you. There's no way to make it work. The rational half of my brain is fully aware of that, but my body still clings madly to the hope that some day soon you'll risk it all with me and wrap yourself around my body and my soul. I could shatter every boundary if only you'd reach out to me or give me any indication that you feel even a fraction of this craziness.
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There you have it - the first time I've ever publicly shared my writing. You have no idea what a huge, nerve-wracking step this is for me. I bet some of you are shocked at the dirty bits - I'm not always a perfect angel. HA HA! Anyway, a blog about Japan isn't necessarily the best outlet for my fledgling attempts at a first book, but since it's my blog I figured I can use it any way I want. Feedback is welcomed - after five years working on an English degree, having my work critiqued is no longer nervewracking!
Be sure to check out the previous entry in my blog, entitled: "You know you've been in Japan too long when."
Enjoy and I hope I've shattered everything you ever thought about me!
PS: I can absolutely guarantee that you have NO idea how these passages are connected, by the way! tee hee!
CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED - THERE ARE DIRTY BITS! HOW DARE I!
Although I rarely dream, I now find myself haunted by day and night. I know not what my unseen stalker is, know not from what I run, know nothing at all about the shadows breathing down my neck. All I know is that I'm afraid. I have good relationships with people, enjoy a successful career, do the things we're supposed to do. But always, waiting over my shoulder, feeding off of my every thought and action, is my greatest dread. And believe me when I tell you that there is nothing more terrifying, more lonely, and more isolating than a life spent running away from nothingness. This is the story of a life, my life, and I share it only because I would die without a place to set it down. I won't be surprised if you greet my words with disbelief; sometimes I barely believe it myself. Know only that in reaching out I steal back some of my autonomy and dignity; indeed, the very last vestiges of my humanity.
**********************************************************************************************
Years later, in a crowded and poorly lit gymnasium, I searched the crowd for a friendly face, and barring that, a familiar one. Scanning the crowd, my stomach dropped as the courage that had led me there finally fled. My only motivation in going had been to see the girls I had so dearly loved, and as I spotted them across the way I felt a pang of regret to learn that, in my absence, they had become women. Theirs were lives intertwined; in the years I'd spent escaping they had grown closer still and although I'd had my own reasons for leaving them behind, I now felt some regret to think that I was a stranger. As soon as they spotted me things became a blur; of over-perfumed hugs, smiles teetering on the brink of fake, loud inquiring voices. Losing myself in the myriad of questions that ensued I began to feel some panic; would they notice the weight I'd gained or ask too many questions that I wasn't prepared to answer?
The thing about high school reunions is that time warps and all of a sudden you're back in a room with people who, despite their best efforts to hide it under designer suits, lists of credentials and tales of domestic bliss, are every bit as insecure as they were in their teens.
I began to search the faces of these women that excitedly surrounded me, desperately hoping to see in them an iota of the emotion washing over me. Here were the girls I'd done all my dreaming and planning with. They knew my deepest, darkest secrets, had nursed me through countless heartbreaks, and had done the damage control that salvages any high school reputation. I saw in each of these women the girls that they had been what seemed like only yesterday; but now, where children had been, were wives, mothers, fiances and career women. And I began to ache inside. For the girl that I had been and for the years of friendship I had missed out on.
I listened to tale after tale of the things these women had done; cruises, trips to Europe, flings with handsome strangers, wild nights, bridesmaid dresses and baby showers. I had had no such adventures and had had no part in the milestones of their lives; the milestones I'd been there to dream about with them so many years before. Nothing can guage the feelings of failure in your soul like the proof of another's success, and here I stood with a dozen girls who'd started out just like me but had seemingly become so much more.
I spent the rest of that evening like so many others in my life; smiling so hard it hurt, terrified that someone would see the tears continuously threatening to well up in the corners of my stinging eyes. I felt like I had in 12th Grade History, desperately waiting for the bell to ring and finally rescue me. And at the last, when people slowly started to trickle away, the lump in my throat grew bigger still.
I hated good-byes. These were no different than any other; promises to keep in touch, to not be strangers, to get together soon. We promised these things knowing they weren't true; God knows why we do this but we do - it's one of the unspoken social rules. No one wants to hurt feelings by actually telling the truth; no we'll never speak again unless we accidentally bump into one another, because neither of us truly cares enough to make the effort. Friendships change as rapidly as waistlines and bank accounts, the dynamics of which are beyond our understanding. Perhaps I'd clung to these because I'd hoped to preserve the last vestiges of my youth.
If asked, most of us would rather die than go back to the misery of high school. High school is never really about learning scholastic things; it's more about learning your place in the world. There you are taught whether you're attractive or ugly, popular or socially inept, lovable or forgettable. High school is the most painful part of growing up; it encapsulates and emphasizes all of our insecurites - even causes them - and sets us up to carry them for the rest of our days. In high school your very life hangs in the balance and your social standing changes with the weather. It hurts. And you never know up from down, often feeling very much alone in the world, even when surrounded by your closest friends. Maybe it hurts so much because we know that none of it can last. And yet, despite all the turmoil and heartache we often yearn to go back, even if only for a moment. I think we choose a few moments and attempt to immortalize them, often assuming that those are the things we'd feel given the chance to go back. Who wouldn't want to go back and relive the passion of their first "real" kiss? Or stand in the crowded gymnasium of their youth with their sweetheart, feeling like love lasts forever? If I allow myself, I can go back to a million such times; smell the cut grass on the field where I first made out with a boy, and feel the stickiness of Sarah's vomit as I nursed her through her first hangover, praying to God that her parents wouldn't come home. We forget that life wasn't always so carefree and frivolous because we choose to. Because we have to believe that life was somehow better than it is now. Because we refuse to admit to ourselves that atleast one fraction of our confused, messed-up lives, wasn't perfect.
I realized as I hugged these women, presumably for the last time, that we could never go back, never make up for the time that had passed, or retrieve what had long since died. I had to believe that their lives aren't as perfect as they appeared to be, or my struggles will have been in vain. I felt that night that I was letting go of much more than some girlfriends from my past. I was, instead, letting go of me. And as I walked, alone, across the gym, past so many faces, and finally through the doors, a slow smile began to take shape upon my wiser face. They'd all said that night, "Oh you haven't changed a bit." Shows how much they know.
***********************************************************************************************
People tell me that it's impossible to be in love with something intangible and I'd probably agree if I hadn't been experiencing my own heartache over the past several months. I think it's easier and more comfortable for people to assume that I have emotional problems or mental issues, rather than take a leap of faith and try to see my point of view. They think I don't see the knowing looks that pass between them and it's far easier to pretend that I don't, rather than get into another philosophical debate about what I know is possible. I've learned not to care what others think, not to devote anymore time to their opinions; not only are they too damaging, but they make me start to doubt that you exist. And it hurts because I know that you do, that I love you, that I lived a life with you, and I can't find you in this fast-paced world I've been thrust into against my will.
I miss you. Every day is another spent in agony and it hurts sometimes to breathe. Every day I grow more and more terrified that I'm forgetting your voice, that I'll forget the purple flecks in your eyes, that I'll forget how much you loved banana shakes in the morning, that I'll forget the way you smelled wrapped around me every night. The dreams grow more and more infrequent, your face fading from my days then coming back again, startling me awake with all the ferocity of the band squeezing itself around my heart. Some days are easier than others now, and I feel guilty about it; like if I smile or laugh I'm moving a little farther away from you and what we had together. I suppose this is, in a lot of ways, like a death, except none of the rules apply now. There isn't a person in the world who can help me get to you now. I haven't yet mentioned the hard days, when I find myself in so much pain that I can barely squeeze any breaths past it. I haven't tried to explain the excrutiating hollowness that threatens to collapse my chest, or the grief I find causing me to retreat from the world and to my bed. It's always there, underneath everything that I do, even when I curl myself around it trying to hold in my guts and my anguish. There is nothing in the world to cure me. Nothing in the world to comfort me. Nothing at all to provide a path that meanders back to you. And I'm lost in this; the blood and guts of loneliness, and the isolation borne of a refusal to return to the land of the living.
***********************************************************************************************
6 months, 13 days, 5 hours, and still no sign of you. I haven't dreamt about you in six months, but I can still hear your laughter and taste your lips if I close my eyes long enough to conjure a fragment of what was. I wonder now if I'll ever find you again, if you're even there to find. I'm trying so hard to want something else, to search for another source of happiness, but even a hint of a memory of you makes me feel guilty again, like a traitor, as some small part of me believes that you're out there somewhere still searching for me. I guess I have to believe that you believe in my existence or all of this is meaningless and I am pining away over nothing. I refuse to believe that this is even a remote possibilty because I believe that I would know if I were crazy. I'd have to know wouldn't I? I mean, people don't just all of a sudden go stark raving mad and still believe they're sane, do they? I certainly hope not.
All I know is that your absence from my life is affecting me on so many levels. I can't work, I can barely eat, can't sleep, can't pursue love again. I can't even begin to think about being disloyal to your memory. Worst of all I can't even look at myself while standing in front of a mirror, because I don't trust myself or what I see there.
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I love you and I hate you as I walk the finest line there ever was, and live the largest lie ever born of this dichotomous hell I'm in. I want to slap that stupid smile off of your face and erase any trace of her touch on your skin; skin I'd hoped could be reserved only for me. I can't believe she shared that time with you, only inches away from the heart aching inside my chest. I am undone, scared to close my eyes because it's no longer me I picture there beside you. I can't. I hate you. I hate this stupid fucking life I'm in. I hate that I can't take my place beside you, take the place of any mundane conquest that comes along. I hate most that I have no right to feel this way, that you barely know I exist with so many willing nymphs lining up to block my way, with so many obstacles making me so inconsequential to your pursuits. So easy now to say good-bye. But I don't say good-bye to anyone.
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I wonder if you long to smell my hair or run your fingers through it. I wonder if you've spent any time at all picturing me, wanting me, needing me, as I ache inside for you. I want to stamp myself onto your body, rape away every inhibition that you've ever had, share parts of myself with you that I don't even know exist. When you walk by, when you're close by, every inch of me feels you there, breathes you there, and prays for time to stop so that I, with all my insecurities, can leave everything and everyone behind, and be only in the moment there with you. The funny thing about desire is that it's bittersweet and that it's not without consequences, and so I can't have you and my life at the same time. Instead I retreat to daydreams where it's always safe to imagine the things I'd do to you if only given the chance.
This is like nothing I've experienced before; I've never known a hunger quite like this. Every waking moment I spend imagining myself wrapped up in heat and you, tattooing you with all the promise of what we could be together. Night after night I wake barely able to breathe, having left your arms only moments before, and I can feel the remnants of your touch on my skin, taste the lips I long to savour, as I shudder from the heat of the heights you've brought me to. I want to devour you, all of you; caress you with my lips, bathe you with my tongue, take you so far in that you can no longer be found. And in my dreams I do all of that and more, but must leave you reluctantly behind every morning as the sun comes up. I close my eyes hoping to conjure just a few more minutes with you, but you're that much farther away. All day long I can taste you, smell you, feel you, and survive only because I know that the night is sure to bring me closer still to you. And when you're actually nearby I never let on that I think all these crazy things. I am too much a coward to ever let you know, to ever put myself out of this misery.
And I am terrified; that some day you'll see it there in my eyes, or hear it in the breath that quickens at the slightest sign of you. I see your hands and wonder how they'd feel exploring my body, see your strength and wonder how I'd feel wrapped up in it, see you and know with every fiber of my being that I could make you happy. I could make you come to life, I could make you fly, you could shatter me and I'd let you do it over and over again. Instead I watch you from afar, smiling benignly as I stalk you with my eyes; desiring you, knowing you, craving every last part of you. And I can't have you, but the wanting you is enough to keep me going, enough to give me hope. When I smile at you, when I talk to you, when I accidentally brush your hand with mine know that a thousand sparks are flying and that I'm glad to have you to dream of.
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If I were to let go of this crazy dream of mine, what would happen to it? With no one left to conjure it, with nothing left to fuel it, would you disappear from my memory? I think not, resist its possibility, but know I stand to cause myself nothing but pain if I allow myself to believe for even a moment that a universe exists for you and I. I want to hold all of you deep inside me, where no one else has been, share everything with you and risk everything with you no matter what the cost. I want to give you so much of myself. I want to wrap myself up with you, with a heat that so chokes us we can only talk with our hands. I have so much to tell you. I wouldn't even know where to begin; except to worship your body with all of me and everything that I am and have. I want to know you, all of you, and celebrate the magic I see living there in your eyes.
I can't stand this, can't take another second of it, my body revolts against the thought of spending one more second without you. Every cel in my body is screaming, crying out to you in an attempt to tell you everything that I can't say out loud. I barely know you but love what I know, and I'm selfish - I want you all to myself. I don't want to share you with anyone and am terrified that some day soon someone else will captivate your senses and then you'll be even further from my grasp. I can't have you. There's no way to make it work. The rational half of my brain is fully aware of that, but my body still clings madly to the hope that some day soon you'll risk it all with me and wrap yourself around my body and my soul. I could shatter every boundary if only you'd reach out to me or give me any indication that you feel even a fraction of this craziness.
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There you have it - the first time I've ever publicly shared my writing. You have no idea what a huge, nerve-wracking step this is for me. I bet some of you are shocked at the dirty bits - I'm not always a perfect angel. HA HA! Anyway, a blog about Japan isn't necessarily the best outlet for my fledgling attempts at a first book, but since it's my blog I figured I can use it any way I want. Feedback is welcomed - after five years working on an English degree, having my work critiqued is no longer nervewracking!
Be sure to check out the previous entry in my blog, entitled: "You know you've been in Japan too long when."
Enjoy and I hope I've shattered everything you ever thought about me!
PS: I can absolutely guarantee that you have NO idea how these passages are connected, by the way! tee hee!
You know you've been in Japan too long when . . .
*You tell people you love Nato and mean it (Nato is fermented soy beans - even most Japanese people hate it).
*You race to the escalators and then stop dead in your tracks (they all do this and it's frustrating to say the least).
*You no longer scream with fright when someone hocks a lugie and spits it right at your feet.
*You repeatedly see a commercial for candy where two models are dressed as school girls, and the only thing that happens is that one grabs the other's breast.
*You're no longer shocked to see men peeing in public washrooms that have no doors.
*You bow while you're talking on your cel phone.
*You don't hesitate to put a $10 note in a vending machine.
*You no longer blink when you receive full frontal nudie ads in the mailbox on a daily basis.
*While talking with family members from home you repeatedly grunt in response to their words, leave out articles like a and the, and occasionally speak loudly (everyone knows speaking loudly will help the Japanese to understand your English).
*You're no longer amazed at the intricate cardboard-box-communities built by the homeless.
*You see a gaijin on the train and think "wow, it's a gaijin." (gaijin = foreigner)
*You start thinking that canned coffee tastes good.
*The first feature you look for in a car is a T.V. set.
*You don't think it's unusual for a truck to play, at full blast, "It's a Small World" while backing up.
*You really enjoy corn soup with your Big Mac.
*You no longer wake up at 3 AM to the sound of passing trucks blaring advertisements from their loudspeakers.
*You think it's normal to purchase underwear from a vending machine (that also, by the way, sells coffee . . . hmmm . . .)
*You no longer laugh like a maniac when you hear the "applause" station on Japanese radio.
*You think wet umbrellas need condoms (restaurants have plastic sleeves for umbrellas here).
*You buy a potatoe and strawberry sandwich for lunch without cringing.
*You think the best part of T.V. is the commercials.
*You have run out of snappy comebacks to compliments about your chopstick skills.
*You think "white pills, blue pills and pink powder" is an adequate answer to the question "doctor what are you giving me?"
*You think 4 layers of wrapping is reasonable for a simple piece of merchandise.
*You can't imagine a restaurant without plastic models of its menu items in the window.
*You think it's reasonable to pay 5000 - 10000 yen ($60 - $120) for a melon, 8000 yen for 10 strawberries, 2000 yen for an apple (albeit a large one, but still), 6000 yen for 5 chunks of pineapple, and 10000 yen for 10 cherries.
*Raw egg on anything (from hamburgers, pizza, hotdogs, rice, salad, and ice cream) is delicious.
*You think it's normal to purchase used school girl's uniforms from vending machines (along with pictures of the previous owners wearing their uniforms, if you so choose).
*Vegetarian pizza with ham is commonplace.
*Seeing people pick their noses (and often eat it) in public no longer disgusts you.
*You no longer giggle when you see packages of custard shaped like breasts - complete with pink-custard nipples of course.
*Cockroaches are better than the alternative.
*You tell people you love Nato and mean it (Nato is fermented soy beans - even most Japanese people hate it).
*You race to the escalators and then stop dead in your tracks (they all do this and it's frustrating to say the least).
*You no longer scream with fright when someone hocks a lugie and spits it right at your feet.
*You repeatedly see a commercial for candy where two models are dressed as school girls, and the only thing that happens is that one grabs the other's breast.
*You're no longer shocked to see men peeing in public washrooms that have no doors.
*You bow while you're talking on your cel phone.
*You don't hesitate to put a $10 note in a vending machine.
*You no longer blink when you receive full frontal nudie ads in the mailbox on a daily basis.
*While talking with family members from home you repeatedly grunt in response to their words, leave out articles like a and the, and occasionally speak loudly (everyone knows speaking loudly will help the Japanese to understand your English).
*You're no longer amazed at the intricate cardboard-box-communities built by the homeless.
*You see a gaijin on the train and think "wow, it's a gaijin." (gaijin = foreigner)
*You start thinking that canned coffee tastes good.
*The first feature you look for in a car is a T.V. set.
*You don't think it's unusual for a truck to play, at full blast, "It's a Small World" while backing up.
*You really enjoy corn soup with your Big Mac.
*You no longer wake up at 3 AM to the sound of passing trucks blaring advertisements from their loudspeakers.
*You think it's normal to purchase underwear from a vending machine (that also, by the way, sells coffee . . . hmmm . . .)
*You no longer laugh like a maniac when you hear the "applause" station on Japanese radio.
*You think wet umbrellas need condoms (restaurants have plastic sleeves for umbrellas here).
*You buy a potatoe and strawberry sandwich for lunch without cringing.
*You think the best part of T.V. is the commercials.
*You have run out of snappy comebacks to compliments about your chopstick skills.
*You think "white pills, blue pills and pink powder" is an adequate answer to the question "doctor what are you giving me?"
*You think 4 layers of wrapping is reasonable for a simple piece of merchandise.
*You can't imagine a restaurant without plastic models of its menu items in the window.
*You think it's reasonable to pay 5000 - 10000 yen ($60 - $120) for a melon, 8000 yen for 10 strawberries, 2000 yen for an apple (albeit a large one, but still), 6000 yen for 5 chunks of pineapple, and 10000 yen for 10 cherries.
*Raw egg on anything (from hamburgers, pizza, hotdogs, rice, salad, and ice cream) is delicious.
*You think it's normal to purchase used school girl's uniforms from vending machines (along with pictures of the previous owners wearing their uniforms, if you so choose).
*Vegetarian pizza with ham is commonplace.
*Seeing people pick their noses (and often eat it) in public no longer disgusts you.
*You no longer giggle when you see packages of custard shaped like breasts - complete with pink-custard nipples of course.
*Cockroaches are better than the alternative.
Friday, February 06, 2004
I know, I know, I'm getting lazy. Actually, this week I have a good excuse as I've been doing overtime. Fortunately I have four days off next week and I'm really looking forward to it - last weekend wasn't exactly what I'd call relaxing (it had its moments, but still!), and today I had to work a shiftswap rather than getting my two days off, so that plus the overtime is making me really exhausted.
OK, excuses aside, there really hasn't been anything going on so I don't have much to tell you.
My room mate's boyfriend actually had the balls to call me and apologize for using my computer without asking while I was away last weekend (I usually don't mind if they ask, but this time he just opened my door, came into my room, and used my computer - when I found out I was really pissed). Eloisa got back from Italy on Sunday only to leave again for the ice festival in Hokkaido, so I have the apartment to myself again!
Apparently there are many many many festivals here in February, so I decided to look some of them up and ask my students about them. One, called Setsubun, involves bean throwing at the end of which one eats soya beans - their age plus one, so for example, I'd eat 26 (if someone held a knife to my throat). While I find it difficult to imagine getting excited about this event (the eating of soya beans, I mean), they were all incredibly excited, as it is intended to drive out bad spirits and mark the first day of spring. It's hard to imagine calling this spring as we're still getting snow almost every day - something that apparently never happens in Osaka and must therefore be happening in my honour.
You'll notice that instead of highlighting and pasting links, Laurie has kindly told me how to make it all much easier. All you have to do is click on the purple words and you'll be taken directly to the sites! Yay for Laurie's good advice!
Enjoy everyone and I'll be in touch!
OK, excuses aside, there really hasn't been anything going on so I don't have much to tell you.
My room mate's boyfriend actually had the balls to call me and apologize for using my computer without asking while I was away last weekend (I usually don't mind if they ask, but this time he just opened my door, came into my room, and used my computer - when I found out I was really pissed). Eloisa got back from Italy on Sunday only to leave again for the ice festival in Hokkaido, so I have the apartment to myself again!
Apparently there are many many many festivals here in February, so I decided to look some of them up and ask my students about them. One, called Setsubun, involves bean throwing at the end of which one eats soya beans - their age plus one, so for example, I'd eat 26 (if someone held a knife to my throat). While I find it difficult to imagine getting excited about this event (the eating of soya beans, I mean), they were all incredibly excited, as it is intended to drive out bad spirits and mark the first day of spring. It's hard to imagine calling this spring as we're still getting snow almost every day - something that apparently never happens in Osaka and must therefore be happening in my honour.
You'll notice that instead of highlighting and pasting links, Laurie has kindly told me how to make it all much easier. All you have to do is click on the purple words and you'll be taken directly to the sites! Yay for Laurie's good advice!
Enjoy everyone and I'll be in touch!
