When perusing this collection of memories from a year in Japan, the reader probably wonders: who is this person? What made the author do what she did while in Japan, and what made her write about the topics she chooses here?
I often see simple statistics listed when people talk about themselves; I am of this age, this height, and have these interests. Here, however, I feel that concrete details about my existence are less important than the pieces of my personality relevant to what I write about Japan. I would like to share what I think impacted how I perceived my year there, and what prompted me to collect my memories of life overseas for others to read.
To be concise, then, I am a relatively recent college graduate from the Great Lakes region of the United States. During my four years of undergraduate education, I pursued a love for history that led me to Japan - specifically, to premodern history and the Heian period. I fell in love with the unique culture (vastly different even from modern Japanese culture in many respects) and with the beautiful literature of the period, and it motivated me to study Japanese as well in order to further a future academic career.
When coming to Japan, then, I brought with me both knowledge of Japanese history and culture, and four years of serious study of the language. These elements make my experience there slightly different from others I knew; the vast majority of Americans (and others) who go to Japan to teach English do so with very little specific knowledge of the country, and often with no knowledge of the language at all. When recounting their experiences, they often highlight the shock of living in a culture where one becomes effectively illiterate and mute; these highly-educated people are suddenly reduced to children who cannot even proceed through the most basic conversation. This adds a very different dimension to how one perceives a foreign country. While I would certainly not call myself as fluent in the language and culture as I would like to be, the above issue was simply not a regular part of my life. There is an enormous difference between being in a language vacuum and being able to simply look up unfamiliar words in a dictionary, or ask for an alternate explanation. There is an element of involvement and negotiation that is simply not there when one does not know the language.
That is certainly not to say that I didn't have my own, numerous issues when negotiating life in Japan; it is only to say they were somewhat different from those my friends and colleagues encountered.
Another difference that was mysterious to me for quite a while was explained by a revelation late in my time there: many, if not most, of the people I met who were interested in Japan were quite well off, by my standards. I do not come from a wealthy background and had to make my opportunities, rather than having them handed to me. Unlike my acquaintances who went to Japan on study-abroad programs, I considered the country as being somewhat out of my price range. I saw working there as a way to experience Japan for myself after so many years of study, and to be able to afford to spend time there. Both among colleagues in the United States and in Japan, I noticed very different attitudes toward class and money than I held, and I think that my background also shaped my mentality to be somewhat different from many foreigners who find themselves in Japan. That is not to say any one outlook is superior to another, simply that my views often differed greatly from others I met in Japan, and I wonder if that contributed to the fact that my issues and experiences in Japan were also quite different from those of my acquaintances. This is simply speculation on my part, but it is something that has been noticed by others as well.
And what of my experience in Japan? While I would not like to recount specifics, some background is likely necessary. I went to Japan under the auspices of a large organization and was placed in a high school in southern Japan, ostensibly to assist Japanese teachers in the language classroom. The goal of the program was to introduce more communicative, "real-life" English into the classroom, as well as to expose students to another culture. As the reader will glean from my writing on school life and experiences, this was not necessarily the case at my own school, but may have been true for other places in Japan. I don't try to make any broad statements here that I feel apply to all of Japan; I can only speak about my own, very specific and unique experiences.
The question I was asked most often upon returning from Japan was whether I would recommend my path to others. This was often asked after I gave examples of the negative work environment that I found myself in, and the unhelpful attitude of many of my coworkers and the people that were ostensibly there to assist me in transitioning to life in Japan. This is not something I would blame all Japanese for; in fact, my situation did not seem so bad until I spoke to friends who had very warm and welcoming supervisors who were of immeasurable help to them. In light of my bad experience, acquaintances often wonder if I would tell all aspiring language teachers to avoid Japan. The answer to that is an emphatic no. I would not discourage anyone from going to Japan to teach, or from doing so with the same large and well-known program that I was a part of. However, I would not like to give aspiring teachers the unwaveringly positive picture of life in Japan that I was given. Just like life anywhere, there are ups and downs, and some people will be given better situations than others.
Incidentally, I would also like to add that my situation was bad enough that upon telling several well-connected professors about it back home, my school was actually reprimanded by the Japanese government. From what I hear, the situation did not really change as a result, but there was lip service given to the fact that I was placed in a remarkably poor work environment. I had one friend in Japan who had a worse situation than I did (it involved unsafe housing and uncooperative administration, for the most part), and I would have liked to see her school singled out for the terrible treatment she received, but she was apparently not connected to the upper levels of the Ministry of Education in the way that my ex-professors were. Again, most people I know were welcomed at their schools and given an opportunity to teach and live in the community, but I anticipate some readers wondering if I'm simply a huge whiner. I sometimes wondered that myself, because so few of my colleagues in Japan could appreciate how bad the situation was for me, and had had nothing but positive experiences themselves. Finding out about the above talking-to by the government reminded me that I did actually have something to complain about. I would recommend teaching in Japan, then, with the caveat that one could end up in a bad situation with no recourse. My school would never have been pointed out to the government if not for some good connections that were unknown to me at the time.
The only substantial remark I have to make on teaching English in Japan is that it is a good way for one to experience Japan first-hand - especially if one does not have the funds or time while in college to study abroad, as Japan is quite expensive - but that one must be as ready for a bad experience as a good one. It is not uniformly bad, but it is not uniformly good either. One may end up being placed in a wonderful school and have the ideal teaching experience, but on the other hand, one may end up in a tiny town with no public transportation and a school that is unwelcoming and dismissive. Simply go with an open mind and make the best of the situation, but be aware that the latter does happen.
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A related topic is my attitude toward, or perception of, Japan. Throughtout my years of studying Asia and Japan in particular, I met many people who assumed that one must either "love" or "hate" Japan unconditionally. Japan apparently breeds this kind of sentiment, because it was rare for me to meet any other students of Japan's language and culture that did not sit on one extreme end of the spectrum or the other. Either Japan could do no wrong in their eyes, and was morally and intellectually superior to Western cultures in every way, or Japan was a terrible place full of ignorant and malevolent people which was fundamentally bad and beyond hope.
Given this attitude, I often felt the need to defensively begin every conversation that criticized my hosts' land with: I do not hate Japan. It is the truth. I may have disliked certain things about living there, and some of these things were so fundamentally different when compared to my outlook on life that I often voiced doubts about how long I could stay in Japan at a time. For me, it was not somewhere particularly pleasant to live, both in terms of physical amentities and mental attitude. Each day, I heard at least one person say, "You must persevere!" or "I'm so tired!" Almost never did I hear the words "Have fun!" or "Enjoy!" and have them be sincerely heartfelt. The grim acceptance with which the Japanese endured their daily living conditions - things like pollution and burning carcinogens, lack of seat belt use, lack of insulation and central heating, and often a total lack of privacy - seemed such a dreary and disappointing way to go through life. I had spent years trying to force myself to adopt a more positive outlook toward life, and here I was being crushed by the relentless "It's so difficult! We are all tired! But we must persevere, regardless." I was crushed by the lack of personal life and the lack of rest that surrounded me. And I was crushed by the feeling that there would never be a recourse for anyone if they were wronged; it was strongly recommended to simply put up with things, and there was only a sense of justice if it did not rock the boat. I saw a lot of victim-blaming in Japan, even more than in my native country, and it wore on my psychological health.
But did that mean that I could not love learning and using the Japanese language, that I could not be in love with the literature I read? Did it prevent me from enjoying every minute spent with my students? From holding Kyushu in my heart as one of the most inspiringly beautiful places I've ever laid eyes on? It is ridiculous to suggest that I should negate the positive feelings I had about Japan simply by having concerns about other aspects of my life there. My criticisms of social norms in Japan did not affect the love I had for the landscape, and did not prevent me from being moved by the beauty of a sunset against the islands in our bay. They never kept me from having genuine care for my students or trading jokes with them, and they did not darken my love of teaching or of random conversations in the local ramen shop.
When I expressed annoyance at something trivial - women wearing 6-inch stilettos everywhere with their bunched-up parachute pants, say, or orange mullets, or an annoying phrase that I'd been hearing over and over all day - I had several friends who would admonish me. They were of the opinion that I wasn't being open enough to my host culture and that I simply needed to become more accepting and open-minded. I was a poor guest, they surely thought, for finding fault with my surroundings. I was lax in my job of cultural ambassador because I had issues with the ways in which I was disrespected at my workplace and treated dismissively and as though I did not deserve to be taken seriously. Even legitimate concerns about problems at school - between students and teachers, involving the administration - were sometimes brushed aside by these friends as a case of my misunderstanding, and nothing deeper or more important.
I would place these friends in the "Japan can do no wrong" category; their postitive attitudes blinded them to the possibility of anyone finding genuine fault or concern with things Japanese. Their experiences had been nothing but positive, and they could not conceive of legitimate grievances that others might have; after all, weren't the others just whining, weren't they simply unable to adjust to living in another culture? Didn't they just need to relax and get over it? Regrettably, many of the people I met who would listen to concerns with an open mind were on the other end of the spectrum; they were the Japan bashers. Often, they had spent a great deal of time in Japan without making any effort to assimilate by learning the language or changing their mannerisms to fit in with the culture, and they seemed bitter mostly that Japan hadn't bent to accommodate them. Of course, I am generalizing here, but these were people who took every bad situation or every offhand remark very personally. A coworker criticizing their choice of fashion or body type would be transformed into the face of all Japan, and the remark would be another case in which the person was singled out unfairly for simply being different. Aspects of the culture which were irritating or difficult to understand became proof of Japanese stupidity or immaturity, and the Japanese way of doing things was wrong and silly. Legitimate criticisms became lost in a sea of negativity. Why these people remained in Japan is beyond this author, but there they were, after five or ten years, still complaining.
Is it not more emotionally healthy to have a conflicting mix of emotions - just like one has regarding any other thing, one's native land included - than to adhere to strict philosophies of "Japan can do no wrong" or "Japan is a horrible place"? It is the opinion of your humble narrator that one cannot maintain a strictly positive or negative attitude about anything, and yet Japan is a place where remarkably few people are able to refrain from it. In writing about my experiences, however, I do try to be as fair as possible and to stay as far as I can from either idealizing or bashing Japan.
This brings me to the last question that I am often asked: do I want to return to Japan in the future? Of course. I do not, however, wish to return in the capacity of an English teacher, as a novelty and a representative for students of what "Americans" look like. (In fact, I would rather that someone who fits the blonde/blue eyed stereotype less than I do provide Japanese students with their example of an American. The concept of "foreign person" in Japan is inevitably some sort of Scandinavian type who speaks with an American accent, and is young and energetic and cheerful. At least I was able to give an example of an American who is decidedly not cheerful, and they didn't seem to love me any less for it.) I am not interested in being below the lowest rung of the social hierarchy at work, tolerated rather than accepted or respected. I could do that at home, without going all the way to Japan, and probably enjoy myself more.
I do want to return to Japan, and I would like to return in a way that is more relevant to my future. I would like to go to Japan as a student of language, as a student of culture, as a scholar of literature and history. I would like to work with other Japanese scholars as a student and apprentice, an equal, and a professional; I would like to interact with professors in Japan in the way I would at home, sharing research and ideas in a common interest. I don't delude myself to think that the social hierarchy of Japan will allow the same student-teacher relationship as in the United States, but I do hope to have a different experience with my work colleagues than I had as an assistant teacher. As a student embarking on a graduate program in Japanese literature, I hope that with luck and perseverance I will be able to return to Japan in just that capacity in the near future. My negative experience, then, did not deter me from returning to Japan, but rather solidified in my mind an image of the grounds on which I do want to interact with the country and its people - an invaluable insight into oneself that was gained from a relatively small price, as far as this author is concerned.