Today's thrilling episode is brought to you in part by: Condensed Awesomeness. Why be tall when you can be small.
Hello, I am the narrator, and now we're ready for: Adventures in the Austentatious! When last we read, our hero was standing upon the precarious precipice of that horror of horror, that abomination of Armageddon, that scourge of the soul: a six day work week. To many, such a future would lead to shakes, shivvers, and surprise shimmies, but our hero is not one to be caught dancing by surprise--and he prefers to swing. Rallying through comradery with exception co-workers and exuberant love of teaching, our hero set forth to prove that more than love may conquer all. And all it did conquer, though it was briefly defeated by an Achilles Heel, or in this case toe. A dart of darkness from the past loomed large this week when, in a fit of joy leaving him dancing around his classroom, our hero mis-jumped, landing slightly forward of center. This subtle shift sent sensations scintillating and sacrosanct through sub-digits. The result: a loud snap sang through the classroom. After the briefest of pauses, our hero rallied and recharged, finishing the class and then teaching two more. But damage had been done, for upon examining the toe--or toes, as was later revealed--in question, an old wound had appeared: a divot of devilish proportions right along the knuckles. Remembering mother's wisdom of long past, our hero believed himself and his toe bones broken. However, drawing upon the knowledge of a close companion, our hero discovered that this was not likely the case. Given the description, the more likely ailment was not forced and fantastic fracture, but dull and desolate dislocation. The cure: time. The prognosis: do what you must. And so our hero set off for work, completing the rest of the week with flair, though ever aware of his ped-problem.
So, in Japan, there is no culture of the, "day-to-sleep-it-off." While this may be very common in western countries, it is simply not done over here. In other words: if you don't have to go to the hospital, then you can go to work. So, I taught several days worth of classes on two toes with varying levels of pain. Why? Well, many reasons. For one, it never really hurt that much. I didn't want to step on them, and if they were already hurting then walking on them made them worse, but all in all everything was manageable. Secondly, I'd rather my co-workers not worry too much. If I can get to work, and can work, then obviously it's not too bad to be worried about. Thirdly, I love my job. Love, love, love my job. And I did my best to make sure that my students didn't notice anything wrong. I don't know how well I succeeded in that endeavor, but at least no one asked about it. Also, though I still have a really long way to go--far longer than I'd like to have at this point--I feel as though I have come far enough that my presence to my students is beneficial. Could I be replaced? Yes, easily and probably with someone more skilled...or at least with more experience. However, am I a detriment? Not any more, or at least I really hope so.
Of course, cultural differences are what really have interested me, and perhaps one of the biggest cultural differences can be best illustrated with a story. Before class the other day, a student told me that they [I prefer to use a gender neutral term when discussing students for privacy sake, and ze isn't widely enough used to be viable, and I abhor the phrase, "he or she." English simplifies, and so have I] had a magazine with an article about my home town. Really, I was ecstatic, but I was also rather busy and might have accidentally blown her off--more on that later. Anywho, they open up the magazine to show me pictures of Portland, and I can tell right away that it is Portland, Oregon. Not because of the beautiful green scenery, nor because of any buildings that I recognize, nor indeed because it says Portland on the cover. No, I recognize it because of the cover picture, featuring two people, as the student said, "walking their dogs." Well, I have been to many places on this good, green earth, and while those two critters were definitely pets, I don't know anyone who would call them dogs. They were on a leash, one was definitely sniffing while the other stared off into the distance, and they were obviously well taken care of; but they were a far cry from the genus canine. That's because they were goats. Pygmy goats, unless I am much mistaken. When I pointed this out to the student, they looked confused. When I pointed out that I had no issue with this fact, they became even more confused and put away the magazine.
This story illustrates, perhaps, one of the hardest parts of my living here: I don't know how to assimilate. In Portland, as in everywhere, there is a dominant culture that tends to subvert and draw in weaker cultures. I will also agree that I have been a part of that culture all of my life, and that it's fairly ingrained into me. However, a part of that cultural heritage is the idea that subcultures are OK, enriching, and should be somewhat allowed a life of their own. Live in a tree for ten days to protest it being cut down? Why not. Don't shower for environmental reasons while ranting about the evils of Obama? Your crowd might be small, though your smell might not be, but Portland loves you. A book-burning neo-nazi? I'm sure they're around somewhere and thriving, though I'd rather they stay on the fringe. The point is that, although Portland assimilates sub-cultures into its larger strata, it has a tendency to do so by diversifying itself as much as it unifies and standardizes the subgroup. As such, I am used to the idea of standard deviations from the normal being fine. Which is not quite considered a good point of view in Japan. I am not saying that Japanese people are closed minded--they are quite open to external ideas, as history has shown. Rather, that internally they tend to be very good at homogeneity and assimilating. People follow a certain role and stick with it.
I will say right now that I am very lucky. My manager is a wonderful woman--who I admire quite a bit--who somehow puts up with my oddities better than many in her role probably would. However, there is always this background drive to assimilate, which slides off of me like water on a duck. It's not that I don't recognize that it's there, but more so that it's so anathema to how I was brought up that I cannot conceive of it in any way other than an academical sense; like trying to understand what a cat would experience on Pluto, there are limitations.
But you know what? Neither way is really right, just like neither way is wrong. It simply is. It's like the reason why I worked--gladly, mind you--a six day work week. Next week the building that my school is in will be closed, and so we won't have classes for one day. In America, that would be seen as a free day off, something grand and unexpected. In Japan, however, workers expect and plan that they will have to make up that time somewhere...something which had to be pointed out to me, I might add. But that's the culture, and even if I highly doubt I will ever really fit into it, at the very least I can try to understand it.
Wow, I talked about my job quite a bit today. I know that I said early on that I wouldn't be talking about my job in this blog--and I am still trying to do so in the vaguest terms possible--I am finding that restriction impossible to uphold. Why? Because my job is my life. I spend more time there than anywhere else--awake, at least. It is where I am experiencing life here, and it's where I am finding the most excitement. So, although I will attempt to make things as vague as possible from here on out, work stories might creep into this text. I will never use names, I will use gender neutral pronouns when talking about students--for those who don't know, I'm the only full time male teacher at my school--but even though it's fairly mundane to me, it's also where most other people will be fascinated. I mean, that's the whole point of this blog and its title: that adventure can be found in every day life. I mean, which sounds better: "Today I went to the grocery store and bought eggs," or, "hiding in the shadows created by the noon-time sun, I slunk to the great place where they store food. Name: super market. Creeping carefully through the aisles, I could not help but notice the bored and bar faces around me, as though this tantalizing trip through unbridled plenty was but a momentary monotonous pause in the otherwise excitement of every-day life. Finally, though the mists of mythical scents, I spied with my very eyes something rounded, whited, and soon to be eated! Scions of Hen! Carefully, so as not to disturb the careful balance laid in supplication by a worker of this hive of edibles, I gingerly lifted one glorious carton. Now, taking it to the front, I wooed the guard with shiny pieces of metal while, with my prize I made my escape!" Really, it all depends on how you choose to view things.
Case in point, my most enjoyable day of work was when I was Earnest Hemingway pretending to be Austin Schock. Nobody knew that I was really Earnest Hemingway, so I would call that day a complete success. Now, some might ask why I went to all of the bother, and my answer is simple: I don't know. It sounded fun, unobtrusive, and a good chance to giggle to myself like a crazed loon--and it worked. Either way I was Austin Schock, I just decided that, for one day, that fact should be a little bit more exciting.
One last point (told you I'd get to it, didn't I): body language. It has taken me years and years and years to get to the point that I can read big body language. My issue is not a lack of empathy--at least, I hope not--but more that the way that I tend to connect with most people is not very physical, and so I tend to be not very good at reading those signs. However, in America I have gotten to the point where I can tell that something is wrong, even if I'm not quite sure what it is. However, here in Japan, I am dealing with a case of new culture-new body language. And it's one that I can't read very well. Big signs, yes, I can read...but smaller ones, or really subtle ones...I know that I'm missing a lot, and as a teacher that's not OK. I need to be able to read my students to know if I'm getting through to them. So, once again, I am observing really carefully and trying to understand each and every cue that I see. I still tend to miss a lot and misunderstand most of it, but only through time will I bet better...so long as I don't mess up anything too much along the way. I guess, though, that I should start living by my own words more: I am focused so much on what I might get wrong, that I don't even realize how much I get right.
Well, this has been another adventure in the austentatious. If you liked me, tell your friends; if you hated me, tell your enemies; and if you didn't care either way, tell everybody. And now, good night.
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