Yes, it’s been a month since I last wrote anything, and all those changes I promised have not arrived. I’m lazy. Sue me! Now on to more substantial matters…
… In March or so of this year I entered the JET Essay competition, primarily because it had a fat cash prize for placing and also because I really didn’t have much else to do inbetween classes. I have thus pasted it here for posterity. Enjoy!
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The Tale of a South African in Hokkaido – Why Snow and Rugby Epitomizes the JET Programme
“But you’re white! How can you be from Africa?!” In any country but Japan, and with any audience but Japanese Junior High School students, the above statement would never have been uttered, for fear of bringing up something of a taboo subject in polite South African circles. Of course, way out here in my tiny town of Sarufutsu (population 1000 and falling), I have to wonder if they have ever even seen another African other than myself. My fellow gaijin friends tend to avoid the topic of my skin colour for fear of insulting someone or something, as if bringing up my pigmentation would somehow invoke angry dragons to issue forth from the bowels of the earth, spitting fiery race-imbued wrath amidst the politically-incorrect. But when one is surrounded by throngs of Japanese school students, who are keenly fascinated with every aspect of my foreign self, it’s refreshing to be able to answer that question without getting dirty looks.
Being far out in the middle of nowhere, Hokkaido, H““HHhjfasdwith scallops for friends and bob-tailed foxes for neighbours, my nationality is somewhat of an enigma to most, adults and students alike. But when the questions rain down, they pour. From my skin colour, to whether I have lions prowling my back yard (I don’t, sadly) to whether it’s a long train ride to Brazil from my house, I am constantly surprised by the things a South African this far out in rural Japan can get asked. But aside from a mid-level K1 no-holds-barred fighter named Mike Barnado, of whom I had no knowledge of prior to my time in Japan, my country is a mystery. And therein lies the pleasure of teaching in my village: everything that I can contribute is something new and foreign, and gently kindles the flames of adventure in many of the students and co-workers alike.
Of course actual English instruction at the school is important, and integral to the whole point of signing off a salary for us intrepid ALT’s every month, but there exists a separate, yet completely overlapping sphere of experience that is available to every member of the JET organisation that can be every bit as fulfilling as the teaching part. And that sphere, ladies and gentlemen, relies almost explicitly on extra-curricular shenanigans.
There are those who take up calligraphy, carefully and tastefully making delicate strokes upon paper and creating something beautiful from something initially plain, and there are those who partake in tea ceremonies and other inherently-Japanese activities with gusto. Unfortunately, this South African was never blessed with prodigious co-ordination, resulting in a horrific chicken scratch style of hand-writing in English, let alone Japanese, which would make grown men weep should I attempt calligraphy. And likewise as a child I was always the one breaking the good China during Sunday tea with Gran, so that’s the ceremony out. Instead, I prefer to resort to my national religion/sport called rugby, in which I can take to the field in total glory, revelling in the wide-eyed terror as I create a swathe of sport-related destruction across the field.
To those not in the commonwealth, rugby can be best described as a sport which took chaos for inspiration, and added an oval ball for focus. Think of American football without the pads and you’ll have a rough idea. It’s essentially a rough and tumble tackle-infused game where one team must carry the aforementioned oval-shaped chaos-magnet across the other team’s ‘try’ line. Thus began the fun, where a fevered battle between the mightiest of the elementary school’s students and the South African began. To be fair, the first one to latch onto the foreigner’s legs did create some difficulty in movement, a fact of Japanese life which any ALT teaching elementary schools will testify. But after the sixth kid had gleefully piled onto this poor South African’s legs, I had begun to resemble not so much a human being as more a Japanese child-dispensing vending machine, with every kid falling off being replaced by another equally zealous player, slowly scraping upwards towards the rugby ball. There’s a certain charm to being assailed by a flock of wedge-formation elementary students – who are imbued with all the marshal discipline of a phalanx of Greek hoplites – which I think all who embark on the JET programme should experience. It’s a bit like eating uni or horse sashimi: Not precisely something one would wish for on a regular basis, but necessary in order to check it off the list of ‘things to do before I die’.
Of course this isn’t how rugby is meant to be played, but it truly did represent the eagerness and spirit that seems to be an almost universal trait amongst the Japanese in my village, and perhaps this could be generalised to the entire country. But I shall refrain from this generalisation, as I am certain political incorrectness is only acceptable amongst my current under-aged conversationalists!
Before coming to Japan, the thought of teaching small children at the elementary level scared me witless. I had intended to teach senior high schools exclusively, opting for pouting teenagers rather than hordes of screeching children. But after the past few months at the elementary schools in my village, combined with open combat on the rugby field, I can safely assure any prospective elementary ALT’s that it is one the most fulfilling and rewarding experiences of my life. Perhaps I’m simply overly-naïve and need to try bungee-jumping, but irrespective of my mindset, the happiness and good memories created from sharing a South African favourite with the kids here are entirely real. If I am ignoring the deeper problems of education in elementary and junior high schools, so be it. The memories are real, and the pleasant feelings I have experienced will remain long after I return home and end my brief teaching career.
But this is Hokkaido, and that means rugby was soon to be replaced by mountains of powdered snow. Indeed, no sooner had my base school’s office given me a standing ovation for South Africa’s victory at the world cup, then the snow began to fall, and then fall some more. The sports field had become a five foot thick wall of ice and sports had moved indoors. Indoors being a place no rugby team could consider suitable for play!
Snow is of course not something really very common in Africa. And my country was no exception. I had never seen real snow before, and when it did finally come, I welcomed the sub-zero temperatures with open arms. I had been warned prior to departing for Japan that I would hate the snow with a passion, and that winter would be utterly miserable. But it wasn’t. Indeed, the past winter has possibly been one of the most enjoyable times of my life, and it’s in no small part due to snowboarding…
… Snowboarding for the first time sucks. There’s no doubt about that. The first day was riddled with pain, humiliation, more pain, frustration, yet more pain, tears, and a desire to end the entire lineage of the person who ever invented this ‘extreme’ sport. On Hokkaido’s slopes, however, this particularly humiliating experience gets to be shared with large clusters of Japanese students, several of whom belong to my own schools. What results on the first day of boarding is a gaggle of students blissfully following behind this poor South African, to whom snow is ordinarily a completely unknown entity, helpfully providing pointers in Japanese and generally laughing hysterically as I crash headlong into yet another barrier. But after that first day, after one learns to snowboard a little better, the tables turn!
The slope has proven to be one of the most effective means of English education outside of the classroom that I have thus far experienced. After the initial few runs down the slope, the children merely look wide-eyed at these crazy foreigners launching off bumps not meant to be launched off of, and generally acting like the kids they teach! But after some chair lift-to-slope communication, our new best friends subsequently tag along through the remainder of the day. There’s something primordially delightful about hurtling down a steep hill on one’s snowboard, only to be followed by a gaggle of Japanese kids and teenagers, some of whom are more ‘tumbling’ than ‘hurtling’ down the slope, leaving a trail of general snowy destruction in our wake.
For this little South African, to whom Japan and the language therein, at the start of 2007, was a relatively unknown entity the days spent on the slopes in a train of destruction, or on the field creating an equally chaotic mess, I have learnt a lot more about this country and its people through simple interaction, rather than through straight-forward language instruction, and likewise I think I have exported more foreign exposure to this region than I could ever have managed were I a little more… orderly. In fact, I dare say that my own relative innocence to Japan was in itself a catalyst for accelerating internationalisation between myself and the local people. To quote any generic beauty queen contestant, “It’s all about the children.” And in this small area where I can influence others and create exposure for my great country, as well as dropping in a little English if at all possible, the children are the most willing to learn. As a plus they look hilarious when tumbling down a ski slope in seeming endless numbers, all the while wondering what on earth drove this crazy foreigner to jump off that snow mound in the first place!
The combination of snowfall and teaching elementary students has reawakened the kid in me. After four years of horribly mature academic study, I had feared that this aspect of myself was lost forever. But after engaging in open snowball-combat during lunch breaks and leading a merry band of snowboarding children through perilous courses, this South African has discovered long-forgotten layers of joy within himself. My only hope is that I have, in some small part, repaid this debt to those who unknowingly taught me how to truly enjoy life outside of work and study. I truly hope that those who summon the courage to come and say “Hello!” to me do indeed enjoy the tomfoolery that occurs in the name of Japanese-South African relations. My local statesman would be proud! And thus, should anyone ask this South African what they should do to be a good ALT, I would answer: Go outside and play! The JET experience is not, in my opinion, meant to be all serious. Take a light heart and a sense of humour in whatever you do, and you shall enjoy Japan all the more.
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As a bonus treat for the few who still read this, I have attached below the last picture I took in class. Myself, the Ninnensei (2nd grade or Std 6’s in SA terms) with Eizo, my JTE extraordinaire.
Also, some pics of a company trip to the Berg. It poured with rain right up until Sunday, but then it turned out pretty damned fantastic.
Note that it DOES sometimes snow on South Africa’s mountain ranges!
