Graduation Observation

I had planned to wear a tie today, it being graduation for my 3rd year students and all. But planning and doing are fundamentally different. Right now, my fancy green and blue patterned tie is sitting on my bed where I left this morning.

Most of my readers have probably experienced the traditional American high school graduation; "Pomp and Circumstance" playing endlessly as the students walk into the hall, then the same song playing endlessly as the students accept their fake-diplomas, and then the same song plays endlessly as the students leave the hall. Of course I use the word "endlessly" very loosely but I think you all get my point. Japanese graduation is all "circumstance" and no "pomp." The students walk into the hall wearing their everyday school uniforms. The school band, which is comprised of a bassoon, 4 clarinets, 2 flutes, 2 alto saxes and 2 drummers, plays an unrecognizable version of the school song while the students enter the room. Once everyone is in place, everyone stands and bows to the front of the room. This is only the first of many bows.

After all of this, the Japanese national anthem is played over the loud speakers. This shocked me last year, but this year I made it a point of interest to look around the room and see who was sitting down during the anthem. Apparently, as a method of protest for some transgression or another, Japanese teachers sometimes sit through the national anthem. I vaguely remember a teacher telling me that the anthem hearkens back to a nationalist spirit from the Second World War that many teachers, history teachers from my observation, do not wish to revive. Yet, immediately after the anthem, the band strikes up the school song again. This time, the people in attendance are expected to sing along. Those same teachers have no problem belting out like a teenager driving in a car with her friends and their "jam" comes on the radio.

The format of the graduation is as follows: student attendance is called, the principal gives a speech, the leading mother of the PTA gives a speech (I find it unusual that the Japanese school system uses the PTA acronym because there are words in Japanese for "parent" "teacher" and "association"), a student representative from the underclassmen comes to the front to tell the graduating students how great they are, then a graduating student receives a diploma/letter on behalf of the class from the principal, then a new representative receive a diploma/letter from the PTA chief, then two students come forth and tell everyone how great the last 3 years were. (Yes, I know that was a hell of a sentence.) Between every new speech, there is a standing bow for the students.

Last year, the graduating students sang a song to the teachers and parents. This year there was none of that nonsense. The band began to play and the students rushed out.

All in all, we were in and out of the gymnasium in one hour and twenty minutes. Not too shabby. Of course, they didn't waste time giving each student a fake diploma up on stage. Lack of pomp, overflowing with circumstance.

Holy Crap

I am writing this now as an escape from my duties at work. I have been asked to edit and grade one student's Australia Home Stay Journal. Usually this activity takes me about fifteen minutes to finish. I have been working on this two-page atrocity for nearly 4 hours, on and off. I have to take a fifteen minute break after every sentence to stave off the insanity and the mounting berserker-rage that grasps for ground in my mind caused by the severe lack of understanding of grammar, spelling, and punctuation.

I knew it was going to be a long day when I read the first line:

The day, Having thought of Australia for the time being "Time when the homestay is done approaches. Unpleasant", thing.

I had to start a second page just for rewriting the edits. I am fairly certain that this student just plugged his/her ideas into an internet translator and copied them word for word without ever rereading it. That's fine. I have done that before. But these kids are 17-18 years old and have been studying English for more than four years. They should be able to create a simple sentence with the vocabulary they know or can learn from a dictionary. It takes me so long to edit these types of papers because I do not have even the slightest clue what this person is trying to convey to the reader. I could just rewrite the whole essay for him/her and get on with my life, but I want to try to faithful to the context and intent. grrr.

In one of my many timeouts I meandered over to Howstuffworks.com and had a mini-debate about religion and science. This was my contribution to the article:

I certainly don’t claim to “have it all figured out” but I am secure enough, through reasoning and intellectual pursuit, to know that religions are man-made concepts used to control people; to tell them what to think and what to do.

And upon historical reflection it is clear to see (to me) that religions have been the sources and the causes of some of the most horrific events in history, all in the name of god(s). Any flawless, lawful, and good God that lets its believers kill and be killed in its name, is a sociopath. Which is why I always favored the Greek/Roman Pantheon. Their gods were flawed, petty and realistic. They were actually useful in explaining the chaos of the real world. Of course, Greek and Roman mythology became ridiculous once we learned scientific reasons for the causation myths. Once we found out that the fall and winter seasons on earth were caused by the earth’s orbit around the sun and not because Demeter, the goddess of the harvest, was perpetually sad in the fall and winter because her daughter, Persephone, had to spend 6 months in the Underworld with Hades, we stopped believing in the story.

What I am saying is, once we find scientific explanations for the stories in the bible we can stop believing in the myths and move on and develop as a species. The universe wasn’t created in 6 days, it evolved for over 13 billion years. That is a scientific fact as best as we can determine today. Maybe in 2000 years humans will have a better understanding of the universe (I hope) and will look back on our science today as primitive and nonsensical myth stories. In the pursuit of truth and knowledge I hope we can stop living in the past and push forward to live in the present. I fear the only way we are going to survive as a species is if we stop killing each other over these ridiculously outdated myth stories.

A Few Quick Stories

Belated Christmas Story
As some of you may or may not know, I was asked by the janitor/gardener at one of my schools to join him at a nursery school to do some role playing. Those of you that know me, know that I enjoy a good role-playing game as much as the next, so how could I not join in this festivity? Pretending to be Santa Clause has never been one of my life-long goals but it would provide me with a story to tell, I told myself. Those people that know me are probably asking, "Why would you pretend to be Santa? You're the biggest Scrooge I know." And to you I respond with the sound of my tongue and lips vibrating faster than the speed of light to expel tiny saliva particles in your direction (a.k.a a raspberry). Refer to this video if you are still having difficulty understanding. For background information, my problem with Christmas in the US is that everyone walks around with holier-than-thou attitudes and pretends like Christmas is something spiritual and special, but when Black Friday and December 26th roll around people are stomping, trampling and squashing other humans just to get to the fresh, new deals. At least in Japan there is no illusion that this is a consumer holiday, it is purely a day to keep the economy going. *steps off of his soapbox*

That being said, I have no qualms about lying to Japanese children about the existence of two Santas, one portly Japanese Santa and one double-bearded, Godzilla-sized American Santa. I am sure that to the children the play which the nursery school teachers had put on seemed like illusion and devilry but there are very few shocking things more than seeing a large American man with beard trying to keep the fake, white Santa beard from being inhaled with every breath. Overall, the afternoon went well. The kids were shocked at first but were more intrigued as the present giving session came to a close. When we left the room, the teachers released the children like dogs of war. They pounded on the glass of the back room in a desperate attempt to catch a glimpse of the mysterious double bearded man as he escaped out the back window in a leather jacket and beanie.

New Year's in Tokyo
I rang in the New Year in Tokyo this year. It was an exciting weekend of drinking and walking around town aimlessly. Being that my college buddy, TJ, and his friend Liz had already been to Tokyo several times between them and I was terribly sick of sightseeing, we decided to see the city as a resident would see the city. TJ had a Chinese friend who lived in Tokyo and called him to come hang out with us on New Year's Eve. Kang (sp?) brought several of his friends along. We decided to wander around our hotel to look for a place to eat with 9 people, last minute. We eventually found a place at a Chinese restaurant called RakuRaku. Coincidentally, we were staying in the China town of Tokyo and there were about 5 RakuRaku restaurants located within earshot of the first restaurant, about 6 Family Mart convenient stores on every corner in this particular neighborhood and a Denny's which, despite the name, did not serve Denver Omelets, pancakes or Grand Slams.

I never thought it would happen to me, but we spent the first half of the New Year sitting around a huge round table eating delicious, yet questionable, Chinese food, drinking Chinese firewater, and talking (or listening) to Chinese people in Tokyo. It was quite surreal.

After dinner, Kang and his friends went to Tokyo Tower and Liz went back to the hotel. This left TJ and I to replay so many college nights...playing games and drinking. We went to a darts bar and passed the New Year by making fun of each other's darts abilities and watching the Japanese version of the New York countdown at Tokyo Tower on tv. After that bar, we retired to another bar and began to consume, which would come to be known as my downfall, a liter of beer at 1:30am. There is a famous bar in Japan called The Hub which is famous for sleazy Japanese women, horny foreigners and liter beakers filled with swill called Japanese beer. According to TJ's demands we were eying the women in the bar. Next to us there were two girls who were getting hit on by foreigners and Japanese men throughout the night. Finally there was a lull in the onslaught and I told TJ to switch seats with me when I went to the bathroom. When I returned from the bathroom, he had engaged the hotter of the two women in conversation and had pulled them over the table closer to us. As TJ worked his magic on the attractive one, he left me alone with the one that spoke ZERO English and looked like a Japanese female version of Moe Howard from the Three Stooges. This was fine. I wasn't remotely interested in her but it was the first time that I was TJ's grenade-jumper. As the beakers emptied and the bar crowd thinned, these girls were getting tired and began asking where we were staying. TJ and I eyed each other. This was all the conversation we needed. We told them nothing! It was quite the confidence boost for me, it was the first time I had a long conversation in Japanese with another human being. It just goes to show that liquid courage does wonders for interpersonal communication.

空手の新年会(karate no shinnenkai)(Karate New Year Meeting)
There was nothing terribly special about the New Year as a foreigner in Japan. There are a few questions you always receive: "What shrine did you visit on New Year's Day?" or "What will you do for New Year's now that you are so far away from your family?" So it is always a shocker when you tell them that (a) you didn't visit a shrine because praying to gods for successful love life is not your idea of "starting the New Year off right" and (2) New Year's Day is a time for recovering from New Year's Eve when you spent half of the night stumbling around town trying to remember what day it was. So I find the shinnenkai ritual to be a bit strange in Japan. Basically, people get together and tell each other to do well in the new year and to try their best to be successful. I don't mean to sound negative, but it seemed like a hilarious group therapy session with Stewart Smalley. The meeting went as such: 80 people (men, women, children) crammed together in the second floor practice dojo at the main headquarters for our karate school. There was just barely enough room to stand up straight, but then we all had to kneel on the hardwood floor. Soke-sensei (the founder's son) entered the room and gave a (thankfully) short speech about how we all need to do our best this year to overcome obstacles in our karate training and how having a focused mind, heart and spirit are essential to being successful. Then he left the room and left all of us in the room to organize how we were going to proceed with the rest of the ceremony. Everyone lined up according to rank and in groups of 5-8, they approached Soke-sensei, knelt and said thank you for teaching us and happy New Year. At this point, the other instructors poured cups of liquor for the adults in the group and they shared in a small toast. After the first few shots of sake, Soke looked a bit red. By the time the last students came through, Soke-sensei looked like the liquor had take a bit of a toll. There is nothing like starting the morning off with a dozen shots of gold-laced sake. At the end of the ceremony, Soke-sensei gave us all 500yen as お年玉(New Year Money) and we took a picture outside of the dojo.

Overall, it was a fun and unique Winter vacation.
Gio

p.s. At the time of writing this, my office smelled of dried cat food.

An Existential Question or Ten

Does wearing that sweater make you want to play the trombone?
Is the trombone controlling the man's thoughts and forced him to purchase the sweater?
Do you get a free trombone when you buy the sweater?
Do you get a free trombone when you hug that lady?
Do you get a free sweater when you hug that lady, but only if playing a trombone?
Do you get a free lady when you wear that sweater while playing the trombone?
Isn't it difficult playing the trombone when you have some woman hanging all over you?
Isn't it difficult to hug that woman when you are holding a trombone?
How many different poses did they try before the marketing executive decided on this one?
How many different sweaters did they try before the marketing executive decided on this one?
How many different brass instruments did they try before the marketing executive decided on this one?
Is the reason that the trombone is in this picture to allude to some teenage sexual inuendo to make me believe that if I bought that sweater and that trombone I might get to "trombone" someone?

I don't know the answers to these questions. But, what I do know is that I really want to try that trombone on.

The Great 2009 Jenga Hustle

It was a dark and cloudless night. The spirits were numerous on this All Hallow's Eve. Greasers, students, ducks and girls in bear costumes were roaming the streets in droves. But this is not a story of fright and other such base human emotions. This is a story of loss, con, and trickery.

I had seen him in the bar before, skulking in the plentiful shadows, surveying the room. At the mention of his game of choice, a spark ignited in his eyes. Opportunity. Upon choosing his target group, he gives the bartender a slight nod and a raised eyebrow. She casual reaches under the bar and pulls out a small red box filled with small rectangular blocks of wood with a strange incantation engraved on the sides, Jenga.

As she approached the target group with the hustlers ammunition in tow, a faint but recognizable smirk appeared on the hustler's face. It was the smirk of experience. A smirk of victory.

The group, a greaser, a high school student, and a recently decapitated duck, unwittingly set up their game to enjoy a few minutes of board game splendor in the dark recesses of bar, as the hustler stalked and noted his strategy. After a few excited moments as the tower collapsed, the hustler staggered over to the table, clearly feigning intoxication. He slammed his glass down as an introduction, the tower shook.

The Proposal
He stated in an unclear and slightly slurred speech,“Care to make a wager?” The three looked at each other suspiciously...“What could this drunk possibly want?”All three of them thought. “I want to play Jenga with you. If the three of you can beat me, I will buy you each of you a drink. But if I win, the three of you will buy me two drinks.”The hustler gargled out. Of course at this point, the three knew that this guy was a hustler, but agreed anyway for sake of an interesting story, such as the one I am telling you right now.

In an attempt to not get cheated, though they knew it was coming eventually, the costumed three argued over the rules with‘Josh’the hustler. 1) You can use only one hand to remove the blocks. 2) You must put the spent blocks back on the top, perpendicular to top row. 3) You cannot remove blocks from the top row. Three terribly simple rules. Terribly over simple rules.

The game began. On his first move, the hustler removed a block and twisted the tower. It was at this point that they knew for sure that the game was over. Thought they fought a valiant battle, the costumed three eventually were defeated and paid the hustler his two drinks. He stepped up from the table, money in hand, and walked to the bartender. They exchanged a glance and a handshake. It is uncertain if that was all that was exchanged...

The Background
I have had many experiences in my relatively short life on this planet. But there is one emotional experience I have always wondered about. That is the emotional, physical and physiological response to getting hustled by a hustler. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I would encounter a hustler in Japan, so I was caught when the action happened. I smelled a fish from the beginning but could not resist to promise of free drinks.

For those of you who do not know what a "hustle" is, I suggest you look up The Hustler with Paul Newman and Jackie Gleason. If you do not know what Jenga is...jump off a bridge because you have been missing out on one of the most amazing games to ever grace the planet.