August 26, 2010

This is why I love my parents:

(Type A)
Dear Sarah,

Thanks; I saw the photos.
How is your room?
Who lives in "your" house?
What is the house like?
How is school?
Does someone translate for you in school?
What classes are you taking?
How do you get to school?
Make any school friends?
Are you learning Japanese quickly?
Are you lonely sometimes?
Do you have to study a lot?
What do you eat?
What will you do on weekends?
What address should I use to mail you things?
Should I phone at a certain time? When? How often?

Love,
Dad

(Type B)
I love your blog...but I HAD TO GET IT FROM HOLLY AS YOU HAVE NOT GIVEN ME ACCESS TO YOUR FACEBOOK PAGE. I WILL DISOWN YOU IF YOU MAKE ME GO THROUGH THIS EMBARRASSMENT AGAIN!!! WHERE IS YOUR LOVE FOR YOUR MOTHER WHO SITS ALONE HERE IN MY HOTEL ROOM ON A BORING BUSINESS TRIP HOPING MY LOVING DAUGHTER WILL TELL ME TALES OF JAPAN???
I LIED TO HOLLY. SAID I COULDN'T GET ON TO FACEBOOK ON MY IPHONE OR SOME GARBAGE LIKE THAT!!

I LOVE YOU.
INCLUDE ME AS A FULLY INSTATED FRIEND.

Keller

(If Holly reads this, sorry mom. And Hi Holly!)


On Japanese Schools:

Lalalala I don’t know where to start. Ok, at the door. Slippers. You wear them. They are not attractive, but attractiveness is mostly based on what everybody else looks like, and when everybody else is wearing plastic sandals with a rubber, 1 inch heel that squeak when you walk, they become no longer unattractive. You change from your outside shoes to your slippers immediately upon entrance in a porch-like room called a genkan, which every Japanese building has. Outside shoes go in assigned ‘cubbies’ and you really don’t see them again until school is over. I’ve considered just arriving barefoot, as it wouldn’t make the slightest difference. On the hallway wall directly outside the bathrooms is a large mirror above 3 sinks, which both boys and girls often use to brush their teeth in the mornings and to wash their hands hourly. I have no explanation; this is simply an observation. Also, 3 soaps are tied to the 3 sink faucets in mesh bags. This allows the bar soaps to be utilized to their full ability without being lost and without creating scum on the counter. I think it’s pretty neat. However, I have noticed that there isn’t a towel to dry your hands off with. This bothers me. I haven’t yet discovered if it is that the Japanese do not have a problem with indiscretion, or that the boys are so confident in themselves to change from their study uniforms to their gym uniforms patently in the co-ed classroom. I’m not close enough with any of the students to ask about such behavior, but evidently I am close enough to see them in their underwear.
One significant difference between my Japanese school and most schools in America is that the teachers move to the students, rather than the other way around. You stay with the same classmates throughout the entire day—like we did in elementary school. When we arrive at school at 8:40am, the day begins with a 15 minute ‘morning meeting’ with the homeroom teacher. Believe me, the moment I understand what is said at these meetings, the world will know. When a teacher enters the classroom, all the students rise. The teacher bows slightly, and the students respond with a deeper bow. (Longer and lower bows signify a higher level of respect. For example, a younger person should always bow lower to their elders.) Then, the students are seated and take a moment of silence. (This is my favorite part. If I am ever a teacher, I will make it a rule for my students to follow this Japanese ritual.) We lower our heads and close our eyes and everyone is quiet for about 30 seconds, when the teacher breaks the silence and class begins. On the second day of school, Robby, the English teacher, told me that this was a practice meant to clear the minds of the students, to leave behind everything else and prepare for the coming lesson. The best part about this moment of silence is that everyone actually participates. I imagined this custom at Lincoln: students would inevitably be texting, listening to music, shuffling through papers, finishing due homework…etc., but I think it means a lot to Japanese students, I hope it does. It means a lot to me because I really do think it works. I feel lighter after I clear my mind. Not in the weight sense—the other kind of lighter where you don’t fear you’ll scream at any given second. I hope you know what I’m talking about.
Another thing I really enjoy about my school in Japan is the independence the students are given. So far, while in preparation for the festival, we have four 50-minute periods with a 10-minute break in between each class. These 10-minute breaks are basically free time because our lockers are in the classroom, so we don’t have to go anywhere. Sometimes students just walk around the school to say hi to other friends. I usually read LOTR and let people take pictures of me. (I am getting used to this. I have learned that being an exchange student and being shy are contradictory. It just can’t happen.) After 4th period is cleaning time. There are no janitors in Japanese schools. The students spend 15 minutes a day, before lunch, cleaning. It’s really quite a good idea because with 20 students per classroom, it’s not like any 1 person has to do much. I usually erase the chalk on the blackboards. (Blackboards are another thing I like about my school; I always found chalk more fun than dry erase markers. They remind me of those old movies where when the kid gets in trouble, his nun-teacher makes him stay after class and clap the erasers. And the kid overly-exaggerates his hatred for this punishment, as if clapping erasers together is really so unbearable.) Cleaning period is followed by lunch, which, after the first day, I will never forget to pack again, as there is no cafeteria. After lunch, the rest of the day is preparation for the festival, and back to what I said about independence: we pretty much get 2, unsupervised hours to do this. We can use the gym, go outside, use art materials, costumes, even box-knives… just about anything we can accomplish on our own, we have access to. I don’t think this would go over well in an American high school, but in Japan, somehow productivity and fun can exist in harmony.

August 28, 2010

- The Japanese do not eat the peels of grapes. Ever. They suck the inside out and put the peel on their plates.
- When I attend Rotary events, somehow the Rotarians make me feel like I’m in a room with twenty E.O. Wilsons. I don’t know how else to describe it.
- I read somewhere that when you exchange business cards with a Japanese person, you should accept it with two hands, study it for a few seconds, and then put it somewhere safe to show that you truly care. I haven’t noticed much of the two-hand thing, but I have noticed that they will seriously break apart every letter of your card, sometimes reading aloud what is written and turning it into a question. For example, “Lincoln High School?” As if they expect it to be a misprint, or as if they have a great-niece twice removed who went to Lincoln and they are leading to a story of how she scored the winning goal at the girls’ soccer championships. The point is, the Japanese definitely take their time in familiarizing themselves with business cards.
- The Japanese really do care how a foreigner feels about their food.
- I have recently caught myself smiling and nodding when someone is giving a speech to an audience. I eventually remember that I have to idea what is being said, and I feel silly. But I keep smiling and nodding.

vv Governor's head vv



What's up, I'm Salah Axerad.