Thursday, October 09, 2008
Demonstration Accomplished
Looks like I'm going to get a chance to write something after all.
I'm here at work and the demonstration lesson I wrote about yesterday is over. It went pretty much as I expected it would, although there really were way too many people in the room. In fact, at least a dozen spectators stood in the hallway and looked in through the windows. Were the other lessons as crowded as ours, or is the sixth grade where all the action is? Perhaps they can't get enough of me personally? It's not like I was the only foreigner on display for the crowd - each class had an native English speaker (all Americans, actually) to help out.
Once class was over, everyone started to migrate to the gymnasium for some kind of massive meeting/briefing/lecture on English education. I really wasn't looking forward to two and a half hours of non-stop Japanese nonsense, to be honest. That sounds harsh as I don't understand most of what they discuss during these gatherings, but I've attended enough of these to know that nothing that occurs will have any impact on my job. All the teachers from other schools who insist on having me (the assistant language teacher) run the class because they are too embarrassed/unprepared/disinterested, they're not going to come away from this meeting and have an epiphany. They're going to continue to have me do their jobs for them because that's how they've always handled English class before. At this point, I've come to accept that as the norm.
You might be wondering what the point of these meetings is - I know I am. Certainly at this school, the good one where English is well-taught and the kids are enthusiastic about the subject (if occasionally distracted - they are still kids), these teachers no doubt process the feedback from the visiting big shots who evaluate the demonstrations and offer pages and pages of advice. One of the reasons the meetings take so long is the visiting speaker/authority has to read over and elaborate on all the notes he has to offer. But why do all these other people show up? Is it a form of entertainment? Do they go back to their schools wondering how this school gets English right, then continue to silently park themselves in the rear of the classroom when I come to visit?
Maybe I'm looking at this the wrong way. Perhaps the reaction to these massive presentations is like the reaction I get from my students: very few take it seriously but those who do are genuinely impressed. I know when I face down a classroom with forty sixth-graders at least half are trying to take a nap during class, but I know there's three or four kids out there who really want to participate and get something out of my lesson. I keep that in my mind and I perform as best I can to the entire group in the hopes that those few attentive kids will take what they can get and not quit because their peers think speaking proper English is nerdy (but speaking broken English is cool - go figure). So in a large gathering of English teachers, few of whom actually give a crap about teaching English, those few who do might do their part at their schools to advance English education from "obligatory busy work" to "actual subject worthy of study."
If my theory is correct and a small contingent of students and teachers really do come away from this with a renewed interest in English (and I sure as hell hope so), then all of this is completely worth it. One thing's for sure: we are going out to eat and drink after this is over and that is good news for everybody involved.
Evening update photo: me drinking at the dinner party. Sharp-eyed viewers can spot why my tie is awesome. Sadly, only one co-worker noticed.
I'm packing for my trip now. Feit...out
つづく... (Click here to read more)
I'm here at work and the demonstration lesson I wrote about yesterday is over. It went pretty much as I expected it would, although there really were way too many people in the room. In fact, at least a dozen spectators stood in the hallway and looked in through the windows. Were the other lessons as crowded as ours, or is the sixth grade where all the action is? Perhaps they can't get enough of me personally? It's not like I was the only foreigner on display for the crowd - each class had an native English speaker (all Americans, actually) to help out.
Once class was over, everyone started to migrate to the gymnasium for some kind of massive meeting/briefing/lecture on English education. I really wasn't looking forward to two and a half hours of non-stop Japanese nonsense, to be honest. That sounds harsh as I don't understand most of what they discuss during these gatherings, but I've attended enough of these to know that nothing that occurs will have any impact on my job. All the teachers from other schools who insist on having me (the assistant language teacher) run the class because they are too embarrassed/unprepared/disinterested, they're not going to come away from this meeting and have an epiphany. They're going to continue to have me do their jobs for them because that's how they've always handled English class before. At this point, I've come to accept that as the norm.
You might be wondering what the point of these meetings is - I know I am. Certainly at this school, the good one where English is well-taught and the kids are enthusiastic about the subject (if occasionally distracted - they are still kids), these teachers no doubt process the feedback from the visiting big shots who evaluate the demonstrations and offer pages and pages of advice. One of the reasons the meetings take so long is the visiting speaker/authority has to read over and elaborate on all the notes he has to offer. But why do all these other people show up? Is it a form of entertainment? Do they go back to their schools wondering how this school gets English right, then continue to silently park themselves in the rear of the classroom when I come to visit?
Maybe I'm looking at this the wrong way. Perhaps the reaction to these massive presentations is like the reaction I get from my students: very few take it seriously but those who do are genuinely impressed. I know when I face down a classroom with forty sixth-graders at least half are trying to take a nap during class, but I know there's three or four kids out there who really want to participate and get something out of my lesson. I keep that in my mind and I perform as best I can to the entire group in the hopes that those few attentive kids will take what they can get and not quit because their peers think speaking proper English is nerdy (but speaking broken English is cool - go figure). So in a large gathering of English teachers, few of whom actually give a crap about teaching English, those few who do might do their part at their schools to advance English education from "obligatory busy work" to "actual subject worthy of study."
If my theory is correct and a small contingent of students and teachers really do come away from this with a renewed interest in English (and I sure as hell hope so), then all of this is completely worth it. One thing's for sure: we are going out to eat and drink after this is over and that is good news for everybody involved.
Evening update photo: me drinking at the dinner party. Sharp-eyed viewers can spot why my tie is awesome. Sadly, only one co-worker noticed.
I'm packing for my trip now. Feit...out
つづく... (Click here to read more)
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
The Amazing English Lesson Spectacular
I was right: today was better than yesterday, but it certainly wasn't any less busy.
Tomorrow we're having a big "English presentation lesson" at school, so when I wasn't teaching classes today I was helping the children prepare for tomorrow's fishbowl experience. The first graders are going to talk about animals and what they can do (in the style of From Head to Toe) and the third graders are going to tell a story with pictures of animals that eat a lot (just like The Very Hungry Caterpillar). The sixth graders, being the most advanced, are going to use Powerpoint and a map of the area to point out interesting local sights and landmarks, mostly in Japanese but with some key English sentences like "This shrine is near my house."
Just like the last month's Sports Day, the entire school is bending over backwards to get ready for visitors. Not only has the school undergone some cosmetic changes (such as these steps), all the schools in the district are dismissing their students early tomorrow so that other teachers can come to see the presentations. Today's usual cleaning session was extra-long so the kids could clean the entire first and second floor from top to bottom, making sure none of tomorrow's visitors see something that might be dusty. It reminds me of what we went through when my mom tried to sell our house. We had to clean everyday and ensure that nothing was even left open or exposed. I never understood why because any potential buyer would see our house with the knowledge that we were still living in it. The guests tomorrow are all teachers somewhere, so they know exactly what an elementary school looks like when you look under the desks or behind the cabinets.
It remains to be seen exactly how tomorrow will play out. We've had a number of days like this where we put on a class for a lot of visiting teachers, always followed by a long (and I mean long) meeting where they talk about the future of English education entirely in Japanese and I stay awake by listing professional sports teams (in their respective divisions) in the margins of the pages and pages of handouts. With three simultaneous classes tomorrow afternoon, there must be more than a hundred guests coming so I don't understand where they're all going to go once class is over. Will we all gather in the gym or something? That's not a meeting, that's a lecture.
The only thing I know for sure is that we're going out to eat afterward (I'm predicting Japanese food, imagine that) so I won't be home until well past nine and then I've got packing to do. This is likely my last "proper" posting of the week, although I'll definitely be tweeting throughout my three-day weekend travels. Whatever goes down tomorrow, I'm less than forty-eight hours from my arrival in Earth's Largest City.
つづく... (Click here to read more)
Tomorrow we're having a big "English presentation lesson" at school, so when I wasn't teaching classes today I was helping the children prepare for tomorrow's fishbowl experience. The first graders are going to talk about animals and what they can do (in the style of From Head to Toe) and the third graders are going to tell a story with pictures of animals that eat a lot (just like The Very Hungry Caterpillar). The sixth graders, being the most advanced, are going to use Powerpoint and a map of the area to point out interesting local sights and landmarks, mostly in Japanese but with some key English sentences like "This shrine is near my house."
Just like the last month's Sports Day, the entire school is bending over backwards to get ready for visitors. Not only has the school undergone some cosmetic changes (such as these steps), all the schools in the district are dismissing their students early tomorrow so that other teachers can come to see the presentations. Today's usual cleaning session was extra-long so the kids could clean the entire first and second floor from top to bottom, making sure none of tomorrow's visitors see something that might be dusty. It reminds me of what we went through when my mom tried to sell our house. We had to clean everyday and ensure that nothing was even left open or exposed. I never understood why because any potential buyer would see our house with the knowledge that we were still living in it. The guests tomorrow are all teachers somewhere, so they know exactly what an elementary school looks like when you look under the desks or behind the cabinets.
It remains to be seen exactly how tomorrow will play out. We've had a number of days like this where we put on a class for a lot of visiting teachers, always followed by a long (and I mean long) meeting where they talk about the future of English education entirely in Japanese and I stay awake by listing professional sports teams (in their respective divisions) in the margins of the pages and pages of handouts. With three simultaneous classes tomorrow afternoon, there must be more than a hundred guests coming so I don't understand where they're all going to go once class is over. Will we all gather in the gym or something? That's not a meeting, that's a lecture.
The only thing I know for sure is that we're going out to eat afterward (I'm predicting Japanese food, imagine that) so I won't be home until well past nine and then I've got packing to do. This is likely my last "proper" posting of the week, although I'll definitely be tweeting throughout my three-day weekend travels. Whatever goes down tomorrow, I'm less than forty-eight hours from my arrival in Earth's Largest City.
つづく... (Click here to read more)
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
I Had a Bad Day (No Singing, Please)
Had a not-so-great day which became a bad day by never ending.
Things started poorly when I arrived in the English room with an entire class of fourth-graders waiting for me. I wasn't supposed to have a class at that time, the teacher mistook this week's schedule with next week's. Since he and his students were already there, I agreed to just teach them and get past it. It's one less I'll have to do next week at the same time. They were noisy but otherwise things went smoothly.
Second period was my only free period of the day. I spent the time organizing all my papers and flash cards for the rest of the day and then I cracked open Michael Kane's Game Boys. So far it's a compelling story about some folks trying to make it in the world of competitive video gaming...a world that apparently exists! Aside from a segment on MTV years ago on Fatal1ty, I was unaware that pro "teams" existed. I have heard of the game they play (thanks to the generosity of Half-Life bundles, I actually own a copy) but I've never actually booted it up or watched any footage of it in action. Like most online competitive shooters, professional or not, it strikes me as way too hard for me to jump in flail around.
Enough about the nice new book I'm reading, let's get back to work. Third period was a better-than-I-expected class of second graders, most of whom were eager to raise their hands and try to respond to my antics. Kids that young always need a little reminder now and then to look forward, stop kicking the seat in front of them, and so on, but I honestly felt things went well. So far, so good right? Busy but not unbearable?
Fourth period was English time for the other second grade division and it was a total disaster. They were twice as unruly as their counterparts in third period, only there were fewer checks coaxing them to quiet down and look at me. Multiple children insisted on laying down, standing on the benches or otherwise being disruptive. One little girl refused to acknowledge my greeting of "Hello," going so far as to contort her face away from mine, lest our eyes actually meet. Students like that are not as uncommon as you'd might think in Japan and it's extremely disheartening. That's a child deciding that you and your language are impossible to understand.
But I must put all that aside and talk about one little boy in particular, because he is a juggernaut. Not the Juggernaut, of course, but he is a force of disruption and chaos that no one at this school knows how to stop or even contain. When he first entered the room, he tried to pick up and move one of the tables. Thwarted by the staff, his next target was one of the benches. Perhaps trying to appease him (like that ever worked), the staff let him take the bench and move it towards the back of the room. They then sat on either side of him (yes, this seven year old requires two adults to supervise him) and tried to prevent him from embarking on any more redecoration missions, although he did successfully climb on top of the table and bench more than once. With this much going on in the room, it's a miracle I even got the meager sliver of attention from the children that I did.
Lunch was lunch, although it is now chilly enough so that my soup and rice get cold before I have a chance to eat it. This is the only school where a cold lunch is a regular problem because they insist on serving my lunch in the staff room ten to twenty minutes before lunchtime actually starts. I pick up my lunch and then head to a classroom to eat, which means I have to wait for the children to stop fighting with each other, settle down, and distribute their food amongst themselves. By the time we're all ready to eat, my food has been sitting out for more than half an hour.
Fifth period was practically blissful, as the third graders are remarkably well-behaved and receptive to my lessons. My throat appreciated the rest because I didn't need to shout at them at all. They were so good we even had time to play a game and do extra practice because there was so much time left over. Thanks kids!
Finally (yeah right...this day isn't over) I had fifth graders in sixth period. All the energy I saved the period before, I consumed it in the first five minutes. Much like the little girl in fourth period, I had multiple students evade my gaze or ignore my questions simply because (and they love telling me this) "I don't understand English." When I asked the class to identify a picture of Mt. Fuji, only two kids were willing to raise their hands. I had to call them out on that, asking aloud why only two children in a class of thirty-five recognized Japan's most famous thing. That got about half of them to 'fess up and raise their hands, but that still leaves plenty of fibbers. When I then asked the class to identify where Mt. Fuji is (not which prefecture, but what country), the only volunteers I got insisted on answering in Japanese, even though toddlers can say "Japan" in English.
I didn't take many foreign-language classes when I was in elementary school (my tiny-ass town didn't even start mandatory lessons until middle school) but I had a couple impromptu encounters in my day. I wasn't thrilled at the idea of learning Spanish and I didn't stick with it at all, but I never remembered children getting angry or scared or argumentative when confronted by strange-sounding words. I know there's an element of "why are we here" in any mandatory language class, and there are valid reasons to question English education in Japanese elementary schools (compared to say, Korean or Chinese). Yet none of that can explain the downright anti-English antagonism that permeates a significant percentage of these kids. The frequency and depth of these lessons is so minimal in every respect, it simply cannot support this level of frustration. Combine that with a oddball fascination all these kids have with random nonsense English on their clothing and in their surroundings and I'm positively baffled.
It's getting late (this has certainly taken more than an hour) but the epilogue to all this was a trip to the jidōkan (pictured above) for an after-school English lesson. I was completely exhausted and borderline hoarse, but attendance was mercifully light and they seemed as tired as I was. I can do pretty much anything I want for these sessions, so we spent most of the first forty minutes just playing Red Light, Green Light. There was some funny business inside when not one but two children tried to go full-on rag doll in order to avoid speaking in English. They eventually relented when the other teachers (and students) present scraped them off the floor and held them up until their limp legs finally took over.
So it wasn't a good day. Tomorrow will certainly be better. Thursday will be...I'll explain later.
But Friday? And this three-day holiday weekend? Should be pure awesome.
つづく... (Click here to read more)
Things started poorly when I arrived in the English room with an entire class of fourth-graders waiting for me. I wasn't supposed to have a class at that time, the teacher mistook this week's schedule with next week's. Since he and his students were already there, I agreed to just teach them and get past it. It's one less I'll have to do next week at the same time. They were noisy but otherwise things went smoothly.
Second period was my only free period of the day. I spent the time organizing all my papers and flash cards for the rest of the day and then I cracked open Michael Kane's Game Boys. So far it's a compelling story about some folks trying to make it in the world of competitive video gaming...a world that apparently exists! Aside from a segment on MTV years ago on Fatal1ty, I was unaware that pro "teams" existed. I have heard of the game they play (thanks to the generosity of Half-Life bundles, I actually own a copy) but I've never actually booted it up or watched any footage of it in action. Like most online competitive shooters, professional or not, it strikes me as way too hard for me to jump in flail around.
Enough about the nice new book I'm reading, let's get back to work. Third period was a better-than-I-expected class of second graders, most of whom were eager to raise their hands and try to respond to my antics. Kids that young always need a little reminder now and then to look forward, stop kicking the seat in front of them, and so on, but I honestly felt things went well. So far, so good right? Busy but not unbearable?
Fourth period was English time for the other second grade division and it was a total disaster. They were twice as unruly as their counterparts in third period, only there were fewer checks coaxing them to quiet down and look at me. Multiple children insisted on laying down, standing on the benches or otherwise being disruptive. One little girl refused to acknowledge my greeting of "Hello," going so far as to contort her face away from mine, lest our eyes actually meet. Students like that are not as uncommon as you'd might think in Japan and it's extremely disheartening. That's a child deciding that you and your language are impossible to understand.
But I must put all that aside and talk about one little boy in particular, because he is a juggernaut. Not the Juggernaut, of course, but he is a force of disruption and chaos that no one at this school knows how to stop or even contain. When he first entered the room, he tried to pick up and move one of the tables. Thwarted by the staff, his next target was one of the benches. Perhaps trying to appease him (like that ever worked), the staff let him take the bench and move it towards the back of the room. They then sat on either side of him (yes, this seven year old requires two adults to supervise him) and tried to prevent him from embarking on any more redecoration missions, although he did successfully climb on top of the table and bench more than once. With this much going on in the room, it's a miracle I even got the meager sliver of attention from the children that I did.
Lunch was lunch, although it is now chilly enough so that my soup and rice get cold before I have a chance to eat it. This is the only school where a cold lunch is a regular problem because they insist on serving my lunch in the staff room ten to twenty minutes before lunchtime actually starts. I pick up my lunch and then head to a classroom to eat, which means I have to wait for the children to stop fighting with each other, settle down, and distribute their food amongst themselves. By the time we're all ready to eat, my food has been sitting out for more than half an hour.
Fifth period was practically blissful, as the third graders are remarkably well-behaved and receptive to my lessons. My throat appreciated the rest because I didn't need to shout at them at all. They were so good we even had time to play a game and do extra practice because there was so much time left over. Thanks kids!
Finally (yeah right...this day isn't over) I had fifth graders in sixth period. All the energy I saved the period before, I consumed it in the first five minutes. Much like the little girl in fourth period, I had multiple students evade my gaze or ignore my questions simply because (and they love telling me this) "I don't understand English." When I asked the class to identify a picture of Mt. Fuji, only two kids were willing to raise their hands. I had to call them out on that, asking aloud why only two children in a class of thirty-five recognized Japan's most famous thing. That got about half of them to 'fess up and raise their hands, but that still leaves plenty of fibbers. When I then asked the class to identify where Mt. Fuji is (not which prefecture, but what country), the only volunteers I got insisted on answering in Japanese, even though toddlers can say "Japan" in English.
I didn't take many foreign-language classes when I was in elementary school (my tiny-ass town didn't even start mandatory lessons until middle school) but I had a couple impromptu encounters in my day. I wasn't thrilled at the idea of learning Spanish and I didn't stick with it at all, but I never remembered children getting angry or scared or argumentative when confronted by strange-sounding words. I know there's an element of "why are we here" in any mandatory language class, and there are valid reasons to question English education in Japanese elementary schools (compared to say, Korean or Chinese). Yet none of that can explain the downright anti-English antagonism that permeates a significant percentage of these kids. The frequency and depth of these lessons is so minimal in every respect, it simply cannot support this level of frustration. Combine that with a oddball fascination all these kids have with random nonsense English on their clothing and in their surroundings and I'm positively baffled.
It's getting late (this has certainly taken more than an hour) but the epilogue to all this was a trip to the jidōkan (pictured above) for an after-school English lesson. I was completely exhausted and borderline hoarse, but attendance was mercifully light and they seemed as tired as I was. I can do pretty much anything I want for these sessions, so we spent most of the first forty minutes just playing Red Light, Green Light. There was some funny business inside when not one but two children tried to go full-on rag doll in order to avoid speaking in English. They eventually relented when the other teachers (and students) present scraped them off the floor and held them up until their limp legs finally took over.
So it wasn't a good day. Tomorrow will certainly be better. Thursday will be...I'll explain later.
But Friday? And this three-day holiday weekend? Should be pure awesome.
つづく... (Click here to read more)
Monday, October 06, 2008
Slow Learner
So I ran my mouth a little bit (virtually speaking) on Saturday while riding the train into Osaka to attend a party. I was feeling good about myself and about my plans for the evening (I don't get invited to many parties) and I talked some serious smack about writing.
Two days later, I feel like most of the fire I had is gone and I'm not sure what has changed. I'm still super jazzed about BioShock, I've been fooling around with LittleBigPlanet and I even stumbled across a new game I already owned (sort of...it's a long story) called Peggle which put me in a good mood. Of course, nothing brings out the happy in me quite like Mako's cooking. She's prepared a few of my favorites lately, including a ginger-rific version of mapo tofu and lamb curry. And while this week is a busy one, I'm heading straight for a three-day weekend of maximum relaxation in Tokyo.
So what's wrong? There's clearly a direct relationship between my frame of mind and my eagerness to write. I can't tell if this sounds childish or obvious, but I think I've got to have some reason or motivation to push "writing" ahead of the multitudes of other activities I could be doing on any given evening. I need something more than just me saying "I want to write." I've got to feel like writing is all I've got.
But how can I feel that way if my writing is, at this point, completely self-serving? Deadlines were a sure-fire way to get me to write in college, but they tore me up and made me feel terrible. That's the complete opposite of the "when can I start?" feeling I had all Saturday about writing.
So I had this idea tonight. Maybe if I just convince myself to spend one hour a day (or more, this is not a timed job) writing something, I will train myself to feel like writing belongs in my life. I'm not going to promise that this hour will be tangible in the form of blog posts, because I've got lots of things I started writing when I felt the urge and then put aside when the urge vanished. Whatever that "something" turns out to be, I'll know I was writing even if no one will.
It may not be possible, but I've got to convince myself that writing is the answer. The only question is, will I believe me?
つづく... (Click here to read more)
Two days later, I feel like most of the fire I had is gone and I'm not sure what has changed. I'm still super jazzed about BioShock, I've been fooling around with LittleBigPlanet and I even stumbled across a new game I already owned (sort of...it's a long story) called Peggle which put me in a good mood. Of course, nothing brings out the happy in me quite like Mako's cooking. She's prepared a few of my favorites lately, including a ginger-rific version of mapo tofu and lamb curry. And while this week is a busy one, I'm heading straight for a three-day weekend of maximum relaxation in Tokyo.
So what's wrong? There's clearly a direct relationship between my frame of mind and my eagerness to write. I can't tell if this sounds childish or obvious, but I think I've got to have some reason or motivation to push "writing" ahead of the multitudes of other activities I could be doing on any given evening. I need something more than just me saying "I want to write." I've got to feel like writing is all I've got.
But how can I feel that way if my writing is, at this point, completely self-serving? Deadlines were a sure-fire way to get me to write in college, but they tore me up and made me feel terrible. That's the complete opposite of the "when can I start?" feeling I had all Saturday about writing.
So I had this idea tonight. Maybe if I just convince myself to spend one hour a day (or more, this is not a timed job) writing something, I will train myself to feel like writing belongs in my life. I'm not going to promise that this hour will be tangible in the form of blog posts, because I've got lots of things I started writing when I felt the urge and then put aside when the urge vanished. Whatever that "something" turns out to be, I'll know I was writing even if no one will.
It may not be possible, but I've got to convince myself that writing is the answer. The only question is, will I believe me?
つづく... (Click here to read more)
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Trainblogging
Got a few minutes to myself here while I ride the rails.
As ridiculous as this may sound (especially when it's coming from a hastily-typed note I crafted on the train) I'm slowly becoming more excited about writing thanks to the blog. I know most of my posts are extremely self-centered and of little interest to the rest of the Internet, as my traffic and feedback have slowed to a crawl, but the more words I manage to shovel onto this page the better I feel about, well, everything.
I grew up really resenting the pressure to write in school. Book reports, essays, lengthy papers for history class, even straight-forward creative writing drove me nuts. I locked myself into an insane cycle of anger and frustration: I hated writing because it was hard and it was hard because I hated doing it. My troubled relationship with the written word is the number one reason I'll never make it to graduate school, even though I recognize the enormous benefits it would bestow on someone like me, a man with precious-few job skills and a fondness for studying Japanese.
Yet after I played the extraordinary BioShock demo last night, once my heart finally lept back into my chest, my first instinct was to try and write about the experience. Regardless of my dwindling readership or platform of choice (the web being notoriously cluttered with enthusiasts gushing about their favorite niche-entertainment), the notion that someone with my history would feel motivated to write out of sheer excitement...it's an incredible feeling.
I've already arrived at the station so I must put the phone down now, but more than anything I want this feeling to last. Wish me luck.
つづく... (Click here to read more)
As ridiculous as this may sound (especially when it's coming from a hastily-typed note I crafted on the train) I'm slowly becoming more excited about writing thanks to the blog. I know most of my posts are extremely self-centered and of little interest to the rest of the Internet, as my traffic and feedback have slowed to a crawl, but the more words I manage to shovel onto this page the better I feel about, well, everything.
I grew up really resenting the pressure to write in school. Book reports, essays, lengthy papers for history class, even straight-forward creative writing drove me nuts. I locked myself into an insane cycle of anger and frustration: I hated writing because it was hard and it was hard because I hated doing it. My troubled relationship with the written word is the number one reason I'll never make it to graduate school, even though I recognize the enormous benefits it would bestow on someone like me, a man with precious-few job skills and a fondness for studying Japanese.
Yet after I played the extraordinary BioShock demo last night, once my heart finally lept back into my chest, my first instinct was to try and write about the experience. Regardless of my dwindling readership or platform of choice (the web being notoriously cluttered with enthusiasts gushing about their favorite niche-entertainment), the notion that someone with my history would feel motivated to write out of sheer excitement...it's an incredible feeling.
I've already arrived at the station so I must put the phone down now, but more than anything I want this feeling to last. Wish me luck.
つづく... (Click here to read more)
Friday, October 03, 2008
Friday Night Rapture
I saw this Japanese guy the other day with "F*CK" written across the ass of his jeans. Pretty funny on its own, but what killed me was the placement of the star. It was almost dead center, lying on the seam as if it was a guide - or a bullseye - to his crack. If I had bigger balls I would have just snapped a picture but cellphone cameras are, by design, extremely non-discreet. I would have had a hell of a time explaining why I was surreptitiously photographing him from behind.
As predicted, I had a busy week. Beyond the usual work issues, the weather was so unpleasant that we had to leave our laundry hanging inside and perform multiple loads mid-week. It felt like I was coming home to a laundromat every day and nothing seemed to be drying as it should. It wasn't much, but juggling soggy shirts and towels felt a little taxing this week when combined with job stuff. Of course, the gloomy weather that forced our laundry inside in the first place wasn't helping my mood either.
Today was different. Very, very different. Sure, I was busy, but on Fridays I don't mind busy. Yes, I had to scold several children who were ignoring me or fighting with each other in class, but on Fridays I don't mind discipline. And when I was teaching class entirely by myself because the teachers either left the room or sat completely silent while I struggled to explain things in Japanese (that's their job, of course), I smiled and reminded myself that on Fridays I don't mind doing everything myself. Little did I suspect what this particular Friday would have in store for me once work was over.
I came home and clicked on the PS3 to check out what new offerings, if any were in store for me. The PSN Store is updated every Thursday, but that's on US time. Here in Japan I'm asleep when those changes are made, so my first chance to explore it is on Friday afternoon. I didn't have anything particular in mind that I wanted, so if nothing of interest popped up I guess I planned on buying Mega Man 9 so I can stop wondering how hard it might be, geek out, and just play it already. But I discovered there was something that is definitely "of interest" to me: a demo version of BioShock.
Let me explain the situation a little bit for those unfamiliar with this game in particular or video games in general. BioShock was released last year on PC and Xbox 360 to tremendous professional acclaim, so much so that its reputation as a must-experience title became a given among gamer-types on the Internet. Much like Portal, its quality was so widely praised that it became an "instant classic" of sorts and I found it repeatedly pushed before my eyes as something I should be playing. After a little research and a lot of tweaking, I did purchase and play through Portal this spring. It didn't look so hot because I had to compromise some settings in order to get it running on my two-year old laptop, but it certainly lived up to the hype. More than a great game, I felt it was one of the greatest science-fiction stories I had ever experienced. If I ever find the funds to get myself back into PC gaming-proper, I will definitely play through it a second time just to experience it again with the proper aesthetics.
BioShock, on the other hand, proved to be beyond my reach. No amount of tinkering would get it to work on my computer and it's not even available for sale in Japan, so the monetary and logistical investment needed to play that game was simply out of the question. Contrasting console platforms and PC system requirements are among the most frustrating elements of being an avid video game enthusiast, for these barriers are unique among major forms of entertainment. International-release schedules aside, there's nothing to stop me from selecting any film in the local DVD store and watching it at home, because I own a DVD player. Video games are only available in specific formats that require specific hardware. If you don't have it, you cannot play that game. I could do nothing but continue to hear of it lauded as a magical superlative of gaming while I sat around and played other, non-BioShock games.
At least, that was the case until this evening, when I discovered a demonstration version of BioShock available for download. It's coming soon to the PS3 and this was going to be my first hands-on experience with the ferociously-celebrated game. When I fired up the demo I was immediately impressed by the art-style, a kind of Miami-art-deco mixed with The Hudsucker Proxy. It was a snap judgment on the most basic of elements, but I took it as a good sign.
More importantly, the publishers made sure to launch the player (um, that's me, I guess) directly into the environment while still maintaining a user-friendly system that explained to me what control options were available. I've played a lot of very poor demos on the PS3; some that felt way too hard (Mega Man 9 for sure), some that didn't clue me in on what the game was about (Mercenaries 2 and Haze just toss you straight into a war zone with virtually no orientation or guidance) and some were just plain boring (Star Wars: Force Unleashed). While I have no confirmation on this yet, I suspect BioShock did the right thing by making the demo the same as the opening of the real game. On-screen prompts and a mysterious voice on a radio gave me a steady stream of necessary info and the Pause menu featured a ton of material on the rules of the game.
Best of all, the whole thing just explodes - literally - from the start and demands your full attention. When the opening animation featured a guy sitting on a plane and thinking out loud, I was preparing myself for a long backstory or a text crawl of exposition. Instead, the plane crashed and my character was alone in the water, gasping for breath and surrounded by flames. Again, I expected some animation to show my guy find his way to shore or be rescued by a passing ship. Not at all: this is the beginning of the game. I was stunned to find myself in control when I tapped the joystick out of curiosity.
It didn't take me too long to find my way onto some sort of island where the story started to unfold one step at a time while continuing to leave me in control at all times. No long cinematic sequences (save for a brief, creepy encounter with a little girl), no prophetic documents explaining who I was or where I was going; I took what facts I could from my surroundings and kept moving forward, gathering what little new information I could. The demo doesn't go very far (as one might expect) but when it ended I felt positively exhilarated. My heart was racing and my mind was flooded with anticipation - I was, rather, I am roaring to experience more of this world. I know I've only played a minuscule portion of the game thus far and the story or gameplay may yet turn out to be more repetitive or laborious than I might enjoy, but considering the mountains of recommendations the game has received combined with the stellar opening chapter (or possibly half-chapter) I saw this evening, I am sold. Bring it, BioShock. I want it.
That would have been a very exciting end to a post mostly about video games, except my evening wasn't over. Hell, it was less than two hours later when I got the e-mail telling me I qualified for a free beta trial of LittleBigPlanet, another upcoming game I have a considerable interest in. Of course, as video games go LBP couldn't be more different than BioShock and my head is spinning from the juxtaposition of the two titles in a single night. However, it is getting quite late right now and LBP is the kind of game that needs a lot more than a summary of why I want to play with it (note my choice of words). So I'm going to go to sleep and I'll let you know what I think of that game in a couple days. It deserves that much.
Still...even at this hour I am positively blown away by what I saw tonight...BioShock...you son of a bitch...what if you are as good as they say?
つづく... (Click here to read more)
As predicted, I had a busy week. Beyond the usual work issues, the weather was so unpleasant that we had to leave our laundry hanging inside and perform multiple loads mid-week. It felt like I was coming home to a laundromat every day and nothing seemed to be drying as it should. It wasn't much, but juggling soggy shirts and towels felt a little taxing this week when combined with job stuff. Of course, the gloomy weather that forced our laundry inside in the first place wasn't helping my mood either.
Today was different. Very, very different. Sure, I was busy, but on Fridays I don't mind busy. Yes, I had to scold several children who were ignoring me or fighting with each other in class, but on Fridays I don't mind discipline. And when I was teaching class entirely by myself because the teachers either left the room or sat completely silent while I struggled to explain things in Japanese (that's their job, of course), I smiled and reminded myself that on Fridays I don't mind doing everything myself. Little did I suspect what this particular Friday would have in store for me once work was over.
I came home and clicked on the PS3 to check out what new offerings, if any were in store for me. The PSN Store is updated every Thursday, but that's on US time. Here in Japan I'm asleep when those changes are made, so my first chance to explore it is on Friday afternoon. I didn't have anything particular in mind that I wanted, so if nothing of interest popped up I guess I planned on buying Mega Man 9 so I can stop wondering how hard it might be, geek out, and just play it already. But I discovered there was something that is definitely "of interest" to me: a demo version of BioShock.
Let me explain the situation a little bit for those unfamiliar with this game in particular or video games in general. BioShock was released last year on PC and Xbox 360 to tremendous professional acclaim, so much so that its reputation as a must-experience title became a given among gamer-types on the Internet. Much like Portal, its quality was so widely praised that it became an "instant classic" of sorts and I found it repeatedly pushed before my eyes as something I should be playing. After a little research and a lot of tweaking, I did purchase and play through Portal this spring. It didn't look so hot because I had to compromise some settings in order to get it running on my two-year old laptop, but it certainly lived up to the hype. More than a great game, I felt it was one of the greatest science-fiction stories I had ever experienced. If I ever find the funds to get myself back into PC gaming-proper, I will definitely play through it a second time just to experience it again with the proper aesthetics.
BioShock, on the other hand, proved to be beyond my reach. No amount of tinkering would get it to work on my computer and it's not even available for sale in Japan, so the monetary and logistical investment needed to play that game was simply out of the question. Contrasting console platforms and PC system requirements are among the most frustrating elements of being an avid video game enthusiast, for these barriers are unique among major forms of entertainment. International-release schedules aside, there's nothing to stop me from selecting any film in the local DVD store and watching it at home, because I own a DVD player. Video games are only available in specific formats that require specific hardware. If you don't have it, you cannot play that game. I could do nothing but continue to hear of it lauded as a magical superlative of gaming while I sat around and played other, non-BioShock games.
At least, that was the case until this evening, when I discovered a demonstration version of BioShock available for download. It's coming soon to the PS3 and this was going to be my first hands-on experience with the ferociously-celebrated game. When I fired up the demo I was immediately impressed by the art-style, a kind of Miami-art-deco mixed with The Hudsucker Proxy. It was a snap judgment on the most basic of elements, but I took it as a good sign.
More importantly, the publishers made sure to launch the player (um, that's me, I guess) directly into the environment while still maintaining a user-friendly system that explained to me what control options were available. I've played a lot of very poor demos on the PS3; some that felt way too hard (Mega Man 9 for sure), some that didn't clue me in on what the game was about (Mercenaries 2 and Haze just toss you straight into a war zone with virtually no orientation or guidance) and some were just plain boring (Star Wars: Force Unleashed). While I have no confirmation on this yet, I suspect BioShock did the right thing by making the demo the same as the opening of the real game. On-screen prompts and a mysterious voice on a radio gave me a steady stream of necessary info and the Pause menu featured a ton of material on the rules of the game.
Best of all, the whole thing just explodes - literally - from the start and demands your full attention. When the opening animation featured a guy sitting on a plane and thinking out loud, I was preparing myself for a long backstory or a text crawl of exposition. Instead, the plane crashed and my character was alone in the water, gasping for breath and surrounded by flames. Again, I expected some animation to show my guy find his way to shore or be rescued by a passing ship. Not at all: this is the beginning of the game. I was stunned to find myself in control when I tapped the joystick out of curiosity.
It didn't take me too long to find my way onto some sort of island where the story started to unfold one step at a time while continuing to leave me in control at all times. No long cinematic sequences (save for a brief, creepy encounter with a little girl), no prophetic documents explaining who I was or where I was going; I took what facts I could from my surroundings and kept moving forward, gathering what little new information I could. The demo doesn't go very far (as one might expect) but when it ended I felt positively exhilarated. My heart was racing and my mind was flooded with anticipation - I was, rather, I am roaring to experience more of this world. I know I've only played a minuscule portion of the game thus far and the story or gameplay may yet turn out to be more repetitive or laborious than I might enjoy, but considering the mountains of recommendations the game has received combined with the stellar opening chapter (or possibly half-chapter) I saw this evening, I am sold. Bring it, BioShock. I want it.
That would have been a very exciting end to a post mostly about video games, except my evening wasn't over. Hell, it was less than two hours later when I got the e-mail telling me I qualified for a free beta trial of LittleBigPlanet, another upcoming game I have a considerable interest in. Of course, as video games go LBP couldn't be more different than BioShock and my head is spinning from the juxtaposition of the two titles in a single night. However, it is getting quite late right now and LBP is the kind of game that needs a lot more than a summary of why I want to play with it (note my choice of words). So I'm going to go to sleep and I'll let you know what I think of that game in a couple days. It deserves that much.
Still...even at this hour I am positively blown away by what I saw tonight...BioShock...you son of a bitch...what if you are as good as they say?
つづく... (Click here to read more)
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Delicious, But Is It Karmic?
According to the menu, today's meal was supposed to give the children a "taste of India." Hence the bread was crafted to resemble Naan in appearance but it was much fluffier and practically flavorless. I'm no Hindu scholar but I must wonder about their choice of meat. Indian food features plenty of chicken, pork, lamb, and even seafood. But whale? To borrow another faith's terminology, it doesn't seem kosher.
Theology aside, I continue to be impressed by the variety and quality of food offered in the school lunches. And the price can't be beat: these meals cost just 216 Yen a pop. Even if the food was lousy (and it's not!) I'd couldn't complain. To think, I grew up in a much wealthier community and I never had access to anything like this in high school, let alone elementary school. What's their secret?
つづく... (Click here to read more)
Monday, September 29, 2008
Better Late Than Never is still LATE
Seriously, why didn't you yell at me sooner?
It was another day of go-to-work-but-don't-teach-thanks so I brought my laptop and spent the entire morning amusing myself in the English room where grey skies, damp weather and lower temperatures left me positively shivering. I started typing a longer post but - surprise! - it's not done yet. We'll see when I can manage to wrap that up. After lunch with the students I thought I could just do a little reading in the staff room without retreating to the now-frosty English room. This turned out to be a mistake, or possibly a blessing. I haven't decided which best encapsulates what happened.
The vice-principal noticed that I wasn't working and he decided to talk me about it, suggesting to me that I could better spend my time at work improving the English room and making it my own. While my initial reaction was "oh crap, he's upset that I'm not working when I'm not teaching" I took some comfort from his totally calm and straight forward suggestions as to how I could accomplish these things. If he wanted to scold me, he could have made his points and walked away in a huff. Rather, he elaborated and encouraged me to consider how I could increase the appeal of the English classroom, possibly by making it not feel like a classroom at all.
While I'm still not sure if he was reproving me or merely offering me genuine ideas, one thing is for sure: this notion of decorating the English room never occurred to me before and hearing it now is about three months too late. At the other schools which have English classrooms, they handle everything. They created them on their own initiative (it was not my request - this school included) and they designed them as they saw fit. At no time has anyone even implied that I should (or could) set about putting my own touches on the decor. I simply never thought of sprucing up a classroom I only use one day a week, and while I can't complain about tardy suggestions that are absolutely good ones, I am slightly miffed that he saw me sit around all summer doing nothing and only put this out there today. The timing couldn't be more "perfect" as I go into teaching overdrive starting tomorrow. I won't spend a single idle day at this school until December.
Meanwhile, in yet another episode of Don't Trust Anyone, I discovered that some of the flash cards I need to use tomorrow were still unlaminated and sitting in an envelope with some unrelated paperwork. Luckily, somebody somewhere ordered more laminating sheets, so I just sealed them myself and that was that. The lesson of the day (in both cases, really) is that I have to extremely proactive in dealing with this school. I have to assume that all English-related tasks will be ignored and apparently I must try to anticipate future responsibilities that I might assume on my own, because no one's going to ask me to help out until it's too late.
Why this particular school puts me in this position time after time, I can't say. Somehow the hardest school to teach in is also the hardest work environment to navigate - that is, the place where I feel like I need the most help offers me the least. Hey, at least it's only one out of five! It could be much, much worse.
つづく... (Click here to read more)
It was another day of go-to-work-but-don't-teach-thanks so I brought my laptop and spent the entire morning amusing myself in the English room where grey skies, damp weather and lower temperatures left me positively shivering. I started typing a longer post but - surprise! - it's not done yet. We'll see when I can manage to wrap that up. After lunch with the students I thought I could just do a little reading in the staff room without retreating to the now-frosty English room. This turned out to be a mistake, or possibly a blessing. I haven't decided which best encapsulates what happened.
The vice-principal noticed that I wasn't working and he decided to talk me about it, suggesting to me that I could better spend my time at work improving the English room and making it my own. While my initial reaction was "oh crap, he's upset that I'm not working when I'm not teaching" I took some comfort from his totally calm and straight forward suggestions as to how I could accomplish these things. If he wanted to scold me, he could have made his points and walked away in a huff. Rather, he elaborated and encouraged me to consider how I could increase the appeal of the English classroom, possibly by making it not feel like a classroom at all.
While I'm still not sure if he was reproving me or merely offering me genuine ideas, one thing is for sure: this notion of decorating the English room never occurred to me before and hearing it now is about three months too late. At the other schools which have English classrooms, they handle everything. They created them on their own initiative (it was not my request - this school included) and they designed them as they saw fit. At no time has anyone even implied that I should (or could) set about putting my own touches on the decor. I simply never thought of sprucing up a classroom I only use one day a week, and while I can't complain about tardy suggestions that are absolutely good ones, I am slightly miffed that he saw me sit around all summer doing nothing and only put this out there today. The timing couldn't be more "perfect" as I go into teaching overdrive starting tomorrow. I won't spend a single idle day at this school until December.
Meanwhile, in yet another episode of Don't Trust Anyone, I discovered that some of the flash cards I need to use tomorrow were still unlaminated and sitting in an envelope with some unrelated paperwork. Luckily, somebody somewhere ordered more laminating sheets, so I just sealed them myself and that was that. The lesson of the day (in both cases, really) is that I have to extremely proactive in dealing with this school. I have to assume that all English-related tasks will be ignored and apparently I must try to anticipate future responsibilities that I might assume on my own, because no one's going to ask me to help out until it's too late.
Why this particular school puts me in this position time after time, I can't say. Somehow the hardest school to teach in is also the hardest work environment to navigate - that is, the place where I feel like I need the most help offers me the least. Hey, at least it's only one out of five! It could be much, much worse.
つづく... (Click here to read more)
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