excuses excuses

Over Memorial Day weekend, my Dad's side of the family had a reunion/mass baptism. While they told me about it, I realized just how long it has been since I've updated this blog and how disproportional my blog frequency is to how much I miss my family and friends and want to share my experiences with them.

By way of explanation, I have a confession to make: I can't find my camera cable.

This is a big problem because the camera I used to take pictures of Kyoto, Osaka, and Nara and also of Gifu and Komatsu's spectacular hanami (cherry blossom viewing) seasons doesn't use a removable memory card. These pictures were to be the stars of my next posts, examples of how life goes on after national catastrophes, but...no cable.

I like blogging linearly. The thought of passing up the picture posts and moving on to less gorgeous things made me sad, so I opted to pretend like I didn't care and wait for the cable to realize it was being ignored and promptly reappear again.

Then I moved. I packed: no cable. I finished unpacking yesterday after a flurry of studying, English competition preparation, and lesson planning. Still no cable. It turns out my (surprsingly effective) habit of almost sociopathically passive-agressive commentary toward my internet connection doesn't get results with camera cables.

I think it's time to eat crow and head over to Yamada Denki and see what they sell. Incidentally, why does every digital camera seem to have a different port? Cables don't make companies that much money. Clearly the wide variety of ports exists as part of a vast and systematic conspiracy to further modern man's sense of alienation and puzzlement over the irrational rationality of a technological world.

Speaking of which, I've tried adding to this blog from my iPhone, but blogger compatible apps I've tried have left a lot to be desired, including picture posting. So far the best mobile blogging tool interface for photos has been Tumblr's, but I loathe Tumblr's self-referential reblog-as-comment format.

So, here's what I'm thinking for how to share my next year in Japan with everyone:

1. This blog, with the photo-sharing pressure off, as a way of sharing stories and happenings, plus
2. A picture a day on Tumblr to actually show people what my life looks like.

How does that sound?

tests

I've been dithering, but I've finally committed: I'm going to take the JLPT N3 this July.

The JLPT (Japanese Language Proficiency Test, or 日本語能力試験) is the granddaddy of Japanese language tests. There are others, but this is the one people know about. They changed it from four levels to five just this last year, sending publishers and students alike into a panic.

The levels are something like this:

Passing N1 means you know as much Japanese as a native speaker who is way, WAY too into their language. N1, the Foreign Service exam, and a background check gets you an embassy job in Tokyo. The people who write the test do their best every year to make sure no one passes N1. Think of it as academically fluent.

Passing N2 means that you can work in the Japanese private sector with almost no trouble understanding what is going on around you. It means you know pretty much all the vocab and grammar that will come up in your average day, and can understand native speakers at a natural pace in both formal and informal settings. N2 means you can read a newspaper. It means you know the 2,000 kanji characters that define literacy in Japan. Think of it as advanced or functionally fluent.

N3 is the new level, created because of the giant gap between the old N3 and N2. means that you can understand most of what's going on around you, as long as the people around you are using simple Japanese. The N3 level is when you can get by in Japan, even if you can't keep up with the level of Japanese in your workplace. Think of it as proficient.

Passing N4 and N5 mean that you're on your way. N5 is after a beginner's run through. N4 is after an introductory level course. You can get by, but you will be confused. Think of these as beginner and intermediate.

To put the difficulty of these tests in context, I'm doing N3 after getting As in 300 level college Japanese. Granted, I had two years where I wasn't in any Japanese classes before I came here, and most of it escaped. However, there are grammar points, vocab, and characters that are not in any of my previous textbooks...at N3 level.

I have 11 weeks to prepare. I'm taking private lessons and have a legion of textbooks--some from home, some bought here. My instructor is going to hit me with a practice test next Thursday, to find my weak spots.

Having been a student all my life until now, I find it refreshing to have an academic goal again. I never thought I would miss tests, but I'm looking forward to the weekly quizes, reviews, and grammar epiphanies. But most of all, I'm looking forward to applying what I'm learning every day. There have been so many times when I hear a grammar point I just studied the next day in a classroom or in the staff room. It's practical in a way I haven't experienced until now.

Wish me luck. 頑張ります。

Let me make something clear...

If you're following American news media about the recent events in Japan, what you are hearing and seeing is--regardless of whether it comes from CNN, FOX, or MSNBC--a big overreaction.

Japan is a small country, but the earthquake, tsunami, and fallout have only directly affected a small bit. When newspapers, newscasters, and websites say "Japan," they mean "the Northern quarter of Honshuu, the main island." The reason they generalize is simple--before the quake, very few people knew where Sendai city (or Miyagi, Iwate, and Fukishima prefectures) was located.

I promise not to launch into a rant about The State of Journalistic Integrity and Media Madness. However, I would like to point out the ENORMOUS GAP between the newsfeeds and actual life here.

1. Fukushima is NOT the next Chernobyl. It's not even the next 3 Mile Island. Here's what I have heard from JET supervisors, embassies, and people who live in affected areas.

• Radiation in prefectures that neighbor the Fukushima plant is one-tenth the level of the radiation present in a chest x-ray.
• Tokyo has electricity and running water. Food shortages have occurred because of people running to grocery stores and buying more than they need. My partner's host family in Chiba says that sometimes they lose power or water for a little bit, but overall, their lifestyle is the same.
• The drinking water in Tokyo is within acceptable levels for adult consumption. The city and national government has recommended that infants and pregnant women not drink Tokyo tap water because the level has risen.
• Precautions against eating dairy and produce from around Fukushima are just that--precautions. There have been no deaths from eating the food in the area.
• The US is only evacuating people from the tsunami-affected areas and from the areas within about 50 miles of Fukushima.

2. The real problem is NOT the Fukushima reactor. The real problem is the damage done to Sendai city and to Miyagi and Iwate prefectures by the tsunami. This is what caused the death toll and flattened towns. This is why people are displaced.

3. Where I live is physically unaffected by both the tsunami and the reactor. Yes, we felt the earthquake, but only very lightly. Nothing swayed, fell over, or cracked. Animals didn't freak out beforehand. We were at least 250 miles away from the epicenter. There are mountains and a peninsula between Komatsu and any fallout, weak though it is.

Think of it this way. If a 9.0 earthquake struck Seattle and did equivalent damage, Spokane would feel only tremors. Komatsu is 270 miles away from Sendai; Spokane is only 220 miles away from Seattle. Like Spokane is from Seattle, Komatsu is seperated from Sendai by vast distance and high mountains, and gets its water and food from different places.

If a 9.0 earthquake struct Seattle, it would be insane to flee Spokane, right? It's in the same state, but practically a world away. You would only recommend evacuating Seattle and its surroundings. It's common sense. Accordingly, no one in either government has mentioned evacuation except to people who are in Touhoku, that northern quarter of Honshuu.

This spring break, I'm travelling southwest to Kyoto, Nara, and Osaka for a little while. These areas felt less tremors than Ishikawa, being over 400 miles from the epicenter. Though traditional rivals with Tokyo and the northeast region, Osakans are leading the Japan-based relief efforts. Tourism from within Japan is especially important in Kyoto and Nara this year, as thousands of would-be travelers from abroad and from affected areas have cancelled their plans. Life only goes on if people continue to live it.

It's almost cherry blossom season. Lest this read like a complete nonsequitor, cherry blossoms symbolize hope and new beginnings. Japan is not hording, looting, and blaming in the aftermath of the earthquake. People are banding together to help out, giving as much as they can, and showing reverence by not wigging out.

Many people have remarked on how stoic people in Touhoku appear to be in the face of tragedy. Natural disasters happen here frequently, all over Japan, and so from a young age people are taught to keep calm and carry on. You help no one by freaking out; you help everyone by taking responsibility for yourself and your community.

In that vein, rather than worrying about whether or not I should stay in Japan, I'd like to ask my family and friends instead to look into the disasters that hit your area and find out how you can prepare your family and community. Where would you go? How would you contact relatives to tell them you were alright? Where would your water and heat come from? Are there public resources for you and your family? Where would you go to recieve them?

For news on Fukushima and the Touhoku coast, I would recommend the BBC online site rather than American news outlets. Their reporting has been timlier and less sensational.

This is going to be my last earthquake-related post. You know where to go to give aid, and my area is unaffected. Since all people hear about Japan now is misinformation about how it's exploding/falling apart, I'm going to use my piece of internet to help people differentiate between the affected areas and the unaffected areas.

I want everyone to see that while all of Japan is strong, at least 2/3rds of this country is still safe, healthy, and beautiful.

Where are the Japanese Charities?

In light of the recent devastation in the Touhoku region (Sendai, Miyagi, Iwate, and Fukushima), many of you are probably wondering what you can do to help. The internet response to the earthquake and tsunami has been amazing to watch—Google has a front page link to the Red Cross, and Facebook has English, Japanese, and Korean-language news updates automatically set on the homepages of people living in Japan. Everything that the world learned about viral aid relief after Haiti is being applied to Japan, and many people here in Komatsu have commented about how impressed they are with the rest of the world’s thoughts and prayers.

Yet, the international response is also a bit disorienting. We are used to a very set pattern of donors and recipients when we think of aid: the rich countries or parts of countries give to poor countries or parts of countries. The G8 send money and helicopters and special teams to Africa or Southeast Asia. People in suburbs or wealthy parts of cities hold benefits for struggling inner-city or rural communities. A whole system—a whole industry, even-- exists to turn concern into money or supplies, and move that money or those supplies where they are most needed. Churches, charity offices, and secular non-profit organizations act as conduits to get aid delivered.

In the case of run-of-the-mill disasters (war, hunger, AIDS, poverty, inequality) these conduits follow said set pattern. In the case of the US, aid programs were deliberately privatized in the 1980s, which is why there are so many private charities to help America’s poor. In the case of the world aid system, private charities exist to help countries whose governments simply do not have the stability or resources to help their own. Usually this is because these governments are so new, and are starting from scratch after being under colonial rule that left them with little sustainable infrastructure.

The countries that support third-world development are, with the exception of the US, success stories of development aid themselves. Japan and the European countries that most benefited from the Marshall Plan are the world’s top donors, behind America. Japan, Germany, Sweden, France, and these other big global donor nations got assistance to their governments in the 1950s and proceeded to use their subsequent economic success to make a vast network of social programs for their citizens. Where churches and thousands of private charities in the US redistribute money as aid, it is often government programs that do this in places like Western Europe and, yes, Japan. This has worked out well for the standard of living in these countries, if not for the national balance sheets.

If you skimmed all that, here’s what you need to know: When disasters hit the US or Third World Countries, the way aid has always operated (donors in rich place --> non-profit in rich place--> distribution networks in poor place) provides a simple structure for getting donations to the victims.

Enter Japanese history and culture.

How Japan does aid and nonprofits is vastly different from how Europe, the US, and Canada do aid and nonprofits. In the US, people donate to charities, many of which are religious. US government money goes to foreign aid, too, but only about 1%...a helpful total in the developing world, but a MINISCULE taxpayer burden. In Europe, people donate to charities and a larger chunk of their taxpayer dollars go to development aid. The tradition of donating to charity is old in Europe and North America, and has its roots in tithing. Donating came first, before government aid, because of the church. It established a pattern of giving to local charities, even as they became secularized. Government aid to suffering communities and developing countries came much, much later.

In Japan, aid happened differently on both the local and global scale. There was no big organized Church to redistribute tithes. Communities looked after each other on a case-by-case basis, often refusing to accept help from outside after disasters. Local temples and shrines provided assistance and moral support, and encouraged stricken communities to pull through independently. Until its defeat in WWII, Japan did not receive foreign aid. It was a new (and kind of humiliating) experience…keep this in mind when reading that the Prime Minister said the recent earthquake is the biggest disaster since WWII.

Japan’s war reparations debt to the parts of Asia it invaded and destroyed was called in as it still received aid from the US. The began the policy of keizai kyoryoku—giving aid (war reparations) while building its economy so it could stop receiving aid. Long story short, Japan paid off its debts in helpful Japanese products, stimulating its own modern manufacturing economy while providing Asia with infrastructure and engineers. This came from citizens in the form of taxes, not tithes. Aid, to Japan, is a matter of creating regional and global economic prosperity and cooperation. The Japanese aid model is really helpful for developing countries, but doesn’t have the warm fuzzy feeling of the American/European way of giving, which stresses people rather than progress.

Again, what you need to know: Japan thinks of aid as a government issue, not as a charity issue. As a result of its history and culture, Japan has way, way less non-profits than the US, Canada, and Europe. The nonprofts it has simply act as a way for people to give more money to the same style of aid the government gives. Japan does not have many non-profits that specialize in aiding Japanese people. Most of them are—you guessed it—almost entirely local, just like how Japanese people concerted their efforts since they came to the archipelago.

Case in point: in the Kobe earthquake, Japan refused aid. The Japanese people believed it was for their government, not charity organizations, to handle. Japan’s government was the second richest in the world at the time—why would they possibly want to receive development aid when they themselves give it?

Fast forward to March 10, 2011. Japan has one of the largest national debts in the world. It just lost its second-biggest-economy status to China. The Japanese people are losing confidence in the ability of the government to keep Japan at its current standards. Then, it is hit with a 9.1 earthquake and one of its biggest northern cities, surrounded by some if its most rural prefectures, gets hit with a tsunami. Whole towns go missing. The world watches.

Then, the world offers to help.

Haiti had organizations already there on the ground ready to mobilize. So did Chile, and the Pacific Islands hit in the tsunami there. Japan has its own government, budget shaking before the earth did, and its small local organizations. They can’t do it alone any more, not this time.

How should Japan accept these offers? Even though the government has accepted foreign agencies and foreign volunteers, they face a huge language and cultural barrier.
Japan has never, been on the receiving end of a giant private aid operation. It has always been a giver in the global aid system—it’s never had an armada of private charities and nonprofits line up to give it volunteers, medicine, blankets, or money.

Japan decided what to do—it will let them all in as a supplement to its own efforts and hope for the best.

Meanwhile, Japanese nonprofits want to help, and can do so without running up against the language and culture barrier, but don’t have a base like foreign charities do.

I have been searching far and wide for Japanese non-profits to support, and found two to share with all of you. If you can, please donate to Japan Emergency NGOs (JEN) or Association for Aid and Relief (AAR Japan). These are great organizations that have helped internationally with earthquake relief, and now are additionally helping their own. They are less funded than big international organizations, and could really use donations.

Donating to them is difficult from abroad—you’ll need to do an international money wire, and the dollar is far weaker than the yen. Yet, these nonprofits can operate faster and more flexibly than the Red Cross. If you live in Japan now, please consider these first.

If wiring money to these organizations is out of the question, please support organizations in your country that are reaching out to Japan…by not earmarking your donation. There are so many other crises in the world, and Japan will recover years before places like Haiti that faced similar disasters.

Update

I'll get back to regular posts after this--I just wanted to reiterate that the area I live in hasn't been hit by any of the recent earthquakes. We're not experiencing any tsunami, power outages, food shortages, significant train delays, or building damage. What earthquakes we've felt have been of the "hey, is the ground rocking a bit or am I just dizzy?" variety.

People in Touhoku (and now Shizuoka) are not so lucky. Because of quake-related structural damage, tsunami, and now the Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant, thousands and thousands of families have lost their homes.

While Japan's compulsive earthquake preparation measures mitigated this, the damage to people's lives is great.

If you've been wanting to do something to help, awesome. Because shipping items takes a long time, I would suggest monetary donations. It doesn't have to be a lot, but please put it in the right place! The Red Cross has a history of sitting on monetary donations for a long time (up to three months!), especially the by-text donations. Consider giving to Direct Relief, Doctors Without Borders, Mercy Corps, or Medical Teams International (religiously affiliated, formerly Northwest Medical Teams).

Thank you for keeping Japan in your thoughts and prayers, but as the saying goes: pray for the best, work for the rest.

There was a 7.9 mag earthquake off the coast of Northeastern Japan about 45 minutes ago. In Ishikawa, we felt some rocking, but it was very slight.

Note to family: I'm fine. I just wondered if someone was trying to squeeze by and rocked my chair, then listened to everyone play the news reports on their phones.

Sendai and the other cities in Northeastern Japan are prepared for these earthquakes, but people are scared nonetheless.

The government has issued tsunami warnings for the other side of the country. Near the epicenter, the waves weren't bad, but they give these things a lot of notice and a lot of time. If you know anyone on the Eastern side of Japan, check in with them.

Inside Students' Heads

I'm often surprised by what goes on in my students' heads at all the schools where I teach, but more so at the elementary school. I asked them if they knew any American folktales and they said "Tom and Jerry!" I told them that Portland is two hours away from the sea and that people consider that close, and they uniformly freaked out. I told them I have an uncle who is a cowboy, and they fell into two camps: half were convinced I was lying, because clearly cowboys don't exist any more, and and half were totally unphased, if not disappointed that all my relatives weren't cowboys and cowgirls.

Today I told them an old Native American folk tale from the Northwest, the story about how Raven stole the sun from the Sky Chief, who appears to professionally hoard celestial objects. I started off by showing them a painted carving from the Sk'klallum and having them guess where it came from.


To see more pictures like this, check out the Pacific Northwest Native Flickr Photostream.

Their first guess was Japan, which seems odd until you take a look at Ainu art. (The Ainu are one of Japan's indigenous groups, closely related to the Small Numbered Peoples of the Russian North and the First Nations of Alaska.) Then they guessed New Zealand. The US was their third guess, and Canada their fourth.

For the folktale, I decided to try and translate it into Japanese first--that way, the corresponding English would be easy enough to learn from at their level. One of my teachers proofread and edited my translation. Then I bought Raven: A Trickster Tale from the Pacific Northwest as an ebook and used the pictures and my simplified text to make a PowerPoint.

After they heard the story, it was their turn to tell me a Japanese folktale in English. We went over basic folklore sentences like "she saw a ~~," "they became ~~,"and "they said/asked." There were many gestures, including a boy acting like a bullied turtle. This was the high point of the lesson for them, since they were really stoked about getting to be the first people to tell me about Momo-Tarou, Kin-Tarou, and Uroshima-Tarou.

The folktale lesson was for the sixth graders, some of whom I won't see again. The school is on the intake boundary between two middle schools--some will go to the one I teach at, and others will go to a different one. There were pictures and messages scrawled on the back cover of their paperback English workbooks.

With the fifth grade class, who I'll see next school year, there were speeches. The vice principal (who substitutes for a substitute homeroom teacher just for English classes, and has taken extra English lessons privately to feel qualitified) asked them if they had anything they wanted to say. English for them is games rather than grammar, and several students said (in Japanese) that they were nervous about English, but aren't any more because English class is fun.

The strangest part of my job is effect that I'm supposed to have. I'm supposed to be proof that the students need to know another language to communicate with the rest of the world, and I'm supposed to personalize (and personify) the Anglophone world. It's easy to get caught up in lesson planning and schedules and forget that in a day, up to 150 kids are learning from me...and forming opinions about language, culture, and even their own ambitions based on what I bring to the classroom, whether it's a folktalke, holiday presentation, or just how enthusiastically I can chant about what people had for breakfast.

It's weird to be responsible for making kids want to learn about something, and even weirder to get a peek inside their heads and see that you're actually having an effect.

The nice things they said about my class and about me as a teacher haven't made me think that I just must be good at; rather, they've made me realize just how much better at it I should be, just because they're soaking everything in.