Why my job is crap

But Claire, you can't say that kind of stuff of the internet! You never know who's watching!

Sure, I can. Read on and see why...

I'm an ALT - Assistant Language Teacher. Well, actually, I have a more technically correct name, but that's what the majority of the population knows us by. I assist in English class rooms in schools. I used to work for government in kindergarten, primary, and junior high schools. Now I work through a private company in high schools.

So, what makes my job crap. Well...

1. I was not made for schools


A major problem (in my eyes anyway) in most school systems across the world, is the prioritising of testing over learning. I really don't give a salsa monkey what a kid's test scores are. In a way, that kind of works with my current position because test scores are not in my jurisdiction. But testing is more important in high school, and the structure of my current job involves more direction from the Japanese teachers about what I should and shouldn't be doing. So even though I'm not involved in the testing, my lessons are often geared toward it and it drives me crazy.

2. English

I can't explain how much it sucks as a pluralinguist to be constantly forced to exist in your native language, despite being surrounded by a foreign one that you'd much rather be using. I suppose it's still a step above an English-speaking country where I'd never get to use anything else. But I'd still rather be teaching a language that's foreign to me too. I want to grow and learn too.

Also, English is beautiful and all, but I've never been one for technicalities. And a lot of my job involves explaining WHY. I'm not a grammar nazi. In fact, if you're being understood, who cares. And it's not just with English. I feel this way about all my languages. Japanese, the language in which I've had the least formal training, is always broken when I speak it, but I'm never misunderstood. (At least not any more than the natives. Japanese is ridiculously vague.) I think this actually makes me good at languages, the ability to discard why.

3. Climbing the ladder

I just said I want to grow and learn, right? Well apart from using a language that literally comes naturally to me, there's also no scope for growth in my job. My role will never change. I will always be the assistant.

Also, I'm not usually one for practical considerations, but I'm getting a little better about it now that I'm 31. And if I'm not climbing my salary isn't either. Ever. In fact, my old government job was the pinnacle of what you make in this field. I'm capped out.

4. Not really being a part of anything

It's important as a human being to fit in. Not always, but once in a while. In Japan, that importance is magnified a zillion times over. Japan is all about my group versus not my group. As a black girl in an Asian country, I know that I'll never fit completely, but that doesn't mean I always want to stick out like a sore thumb.

At school, I'm very aware that all the other teachers have responsibilities I don't - leading clubs, being form teachers, planning school events. It gives them a sense of camaraderie and makes me feel like Quasimodo in the bell tower.



There are tons and tons of reasons why my job is crap and I could go on and on all day. But I won't. I just wanted to acknowledge the fact that for the first time I am not perfectly happy in a job. Don't get me wrong, I love my pookies to pieces, but this just isn't my calling. So I've made a promise to myself and I'm now declaring it publicly as well. It won't be forever, but I will stick it for the moment.

Did you ever work in a job that didn't work for you?

Ippo fumidaseba - A single step

I moved down the hill. Literally.

I took this picture from the front of my apartment. That green fence is where I used to live. It's so close that I moved a good chunk of my things down the hill by loading into my backpack or suitcase and walking.

By the way, walking down the street with a used microwave always makes you feel like a thief. Always. Just in case you wondered.

So anyhow, my old place and my new place are so close that you wouldn't think much would change.

Surprisingly everything's different.

My new place is on the road that's the shortcut from the train station to the high school. This means though I hardly used to see these kids before, I now trip over my students the minute I set foot outside of my door. The restaurant down the hill is now the restaurant right next door, which means that if I'm outside, I can hear who's in there. This leads to me 'accidentally' running into people all the time.

Up the hill is just a little gap with like 7 houses, so I hardly saw anyone before. Where I live now, the houses behind me are really dense, so I've lots of neighbours. Many of them are the guys from my festival team. I'm hoping that this leads to more hanging out. The old apartment was kind of at an intersection of routes, you had several choices of which to take. Where I live now, you don't really. This means you walk the same route more frequently. Yet again, more running into people.








One of my favourite Japanese TV shows is Atashinchi no Danshi (Literally: My boys). In trying to get the 'hikkikomori' (shut-in) son to come out of his room, Chisato (the star) says ' If you take one step forward, the whole world changes. ' (Ippo fumidaseba sekai ga kawaru. 一歩踏み出せば世界が変わる。)

That's what it feels like. I've just moved down the hill, but somehow, I'm miles closer to everything and everyone.

And there's a writing application to today's post too.

Point of view. At first POV doesn't seem like a big deal, but it's like my moving down the hill. A different POV means running into different people, seeing different scenes. Some things changing and some things don't happen at all.

So how do you pick a POV? You could weigh all the pros and cons of what story you end up with depending on where your narrator stands or who he or she is or how he or she talks.

Or you could just move down the hill and see what the world looks like.

Do you have any experiences with the world changing with a single step?

On need

I don't think it's a  secret. The modern world has convinced us that we need much more than we do.

Like refrigerators.

I don't have one. I am not starved. Or malnourished. In fact, I eat healthier now than when there was a fridge in the house. Think about it. How much of the stuff in the refrigerator is stuff you actually need? How much of it is good for you? How much of it would rot in less than 5 days if it wasn't refrigerated?

Maybe not needing a fridge is a little far-fetched for some people. So how about a car? Whether you need a car depends on where you live. How's the public transportation? How far from work/school do you live? Can you get there without a car? If you need something that must be done with a car, is there someone close to you who will do it?

Now that I've got a Japanese license, friends keep asking when I'm getting a car. Truth is I don't think I need one.

I've lived in this town for 5 years. When I came, I didn't have an International license because of the joy that is the Barbados Licensing Authority. I could have gone to get a Japanese license. But two of my schools and town hall were within walking distance. The third school was an easy bus ride for US$2.50. I could walk to the supermarket. Taxis were expensive but not so much so that I couldn't call one if I had a heavy package from the home store. Now, I work at one school I can walk to and my other school is right next to the train station, one stop away. Even after the recent typhoon, when the trains weren't running there was still a bus.

The trains are an hour apart and the buses are inconvenient. It's hell with a cherry on top to get to any town the train doesn't run to, and sometimes it can be complicated for the ones with trains that aren't a straight shot. But, I do have access to cars. My Japanese Dad's car has taken to parking itself at my apartment, and just last night, the mechanic was like, 'Claire,  you can use my carS any time.' I don't really need a car and if do, they are several available.

My friends who keep asking are all drivers themselves or foreigners. I guess they see cars as infinitely more convenient than the alternatives. But since my alternatives are easy, a car looks like a colossal pain in the in-grown toenail. Buying them, insuring them, filling them up, all cost money. They inform people of your every move. If you run into a parked car with just your body, who cares? Run into it with a car and you're liable. I don't need a car.

The third thing I often think of as 'you really don't need this anywhere near as much as you think you do' is a smart phone. To start with, the necessity of a cell phone is questionable. It's linked to your line of work, your neighbourhood, how many people really need to be able to contact you right now. But even if we assume a cell phone is necessary, does your phone really need to be able to plot the entire solar system?

I've only recently crossed over to smart-dom. The only reason I need  a smart phone now is because I've decided not to get internet at home (to avoid ridiculous broken contract fees if I have to move again) and my family on the other side of the world likes to know that they can find me without having to get on a rice boat. I don't even like it. It makes me feel way to over connected. So it spends half the time at home or turned off, making it actually LESS useful than the idiot-phone I had before.

The other funny thing about these ''needs'' is that they all have drawbacks. Guns don't shoot people. People shoot people. But without a gun, people - try as they might - can't shoot people. Similarly fridges make people fatter and unhealthier. Cars cause more pollution than they need to because people get used to having them and drive when they could reasonably walk or use other transportation. I also suspect that having smart phones do all our thinking is going to start to atrophy our brains at some point.

It's a lot to chew on, but I wonder how often people take the necessities for granted. All people really need is air, water and food. After that it's a hierarchy of how much easier life becomes with the inclusion of a particular thing.

You think you need it, but do you really? And is it actually doing you more harm than good?

What is to is, must is

Back in January, I posted 'How Happens' about the fact that everything would be up in the air after August, when my contract at the time expired.

I don't remember if I said it here, but the Japanese school year runs April to March, and the JET year (the programme I was on) runs August to July. This meant that I would need to break contract to be eligible for most of the teaching jobs.

But breaking contract isn't in my vocabulary. The way I see it, keeping promises is one of my few virtues. I try very, very hard never to give it up. So I let April pass. With it, a chance at a similar job on the other end of the prefecture for comparable pay. But worse,  I gave up the job at the high school in town. The ONLY other job that I can legally work in my town. By keeping my word, I basically gave up all hope of being where I finally feel I belong.

I started looking feverishly for work. I got through with one job in April only to find that they needed me to start immediately. So I waited until June for my next batch of applications. Finally, I bit the bullet and made the exactly 600-km trip down to Tokyo for interviews. There are no words to describe how much I despise Tokyo. But a 3-hour shinkansen ride is a lot closer to my town than the opposing hemisphere of the Earth.

I was just waiting to hear back from the jobs in Tokyo, when suddenly the job in my town opened up!

It feels like a personal miracle. It is very literally the ONLY way I could stay here, and it was not supposed to be available. I gave it up in April with the finality of signing my own death warrant, and yet here it was knocking on my door again.

So, I'm still here. In the town I love. It's nowhere near as cushy as before - but then nothing is as cushy as government -  but I'm here. It was not supposed to be possible but it is.

And I got here without having to compromise my character.

What is to is, must is.

PS, "What is to is, must is," is from the Samuel Selvon novel, A Brighter Sun. It may just be my favourite quote of all time.

My Secret to Success

I did my driving test yesterday. I don't know how many times I've done since I have to take off work to go, and it costs an arm, a leg and 2 manicured toenails. Since I've let 6 months laps between when I started the procedure and yesterday's test, I had to do the whole thing over from scratch. New application, written test, eye exam...

I finished all that stuff, and was sitting inthe waiting room killing time until I could do the actual driving test.

"Claire?"

Huh, I thought. The Licence Center staff call me, "Gittens-san." I remember it really well because they are the only people in Japan that do. (Way back when, someone told Japan that in the West we go by our first names, and they think it means always. For some weird reason there is one lady at the bank who calls me "Dawn-Marie-san." Not sure what boat she's on...)

I looked up to see my friend Ryusuke. I know him through hip-hop dancing. But he's also one of my driving instructors.

CRAP!!! He was there for some refresher course with a bunch of other driving school instructors. So much for sneaking off in secret and never telling them if I failed. (Japan's Driving Test has little to do with ability to drive and lots to do with protecting ridiculous rules. I learned that the first time I failed and the examiner was like, "Well, it's not that you can't drive but...")

Up until that point, I'd been totally relaxed - or at least relaxed about the driving test. I periodically freak out about my impending unemployment, and all else pales in comparison. But from the moment I saw Ryusuke that changed. Now I had to pass. Otherwise I'd have to step off the course and possibly run right in to him and look him in the face and tell him I suck.

Yesterday's driving test may be the worst I've ever driven in my life. It was not at all a smooth ride, but I made a point of exaggeratedly obeying all the rules. And somehow, I passed! As soon as the printed out the license (finally, I understood the pain of people who have mugshot-licenses)  I ran over to the restaurant the driving instructors were eating at.



"Ja-jan!" (Ta-da in Japanese) I shouted as I whipped, out my card!
"Yokatta!" (Yay!) Ryusuke's face broke into a smile. He's been after me since I started lessons... When are you taking the test Claire? Why haven't you taken a test lately Claire?...

Then I messaged a friend to tell him I'd passed despite my driving instructor being there. But then, maybe not. Maybe it was less "despite" and more "thanks to." I couldn't fail because I couldn't bear having to tell Ryusuke right after the fact while it was still raw.

Thinking about it, I'm the same way with Nanowrimo. When I want to throw in the towel, I bite down and dig in, because I don't want to tell people I suck. Failure is not an option. How many other times am I like this?

Maybe that's it for me. The secret to success is the absolute inacceptability of failure.

Are you a writer?

When do you get to call yourself a writer?

Some jobs require a qualification. Noone calls you a lawyer until you pass the appropriate exam. Whether or not you work in a law firm. By the same token, it doesn't matter if you've ever tried a case or not, people will assign you the title once you've got the qualification.

Other job titles are in the doing. Doing a culinary course does not a cook make. But if you work in a kitchen, preparing food, then people will happily assign you the title. No matter how much or how little you did to get to that position.

When do you get to call yourself a writer?

It's certainly not by qualification. If we look at writing certificates alone, many of the industry's biggest names would not make the cut. Is it in doing the job? If so, where's the starting point? Do you get to be a writer because your novel is published? How about when it sells to a publishing house? When you get an agent? When you have a polished manuscript? First draft? When you publish a short story? A single article in a major newspaper? What about self-publishing?

Years ago when my mind was drawn to this paradoxical question, I struggled with it for quite a while. I call myself a writer, but I've never published a novel. I've written a handful of short work which appeared in anthologies or newspapers. Was that enough?

Then I was watching some medical drama and one of the characters provided the definition of pain. "If a patient says they're experiencing pain, then they are." I don't know if that's truly the definition of pain, but it makes sense to me. As far as I know, there's no objective way to measure pain. If you think something is painful, I can't tell you it's not. And that's exactly what it's like being a writer.

It's not about qualifications. For me, it's not even that much about the act of actual writing. Being a writer iss a state of mind. It's seeing things that others don't. Hearing voices. Loving stories. It's in imaginary people being painfully real.

You're a writer because you feel it.

You're a writer because you say you are.

Far Out Friday: Hikikomori

There are lots of beautiful, amazing things about Japanese culture and society. I love the privilege of being able to share them with you. But I also believe, above all else, in truth. Which is why I don't shy away from the stuff that might not be all unicorns and rainbows.

The meaning of the word "hikikomori" falls somewhere between the English "recluse" and "hermit." Hikikomori are people who don't (or seldom) leave home. As opposed to a recluse, who may just not be sociable, but be perfectly functional in society when they need to be. Or a hermit, who's withdrawn completely and lives in a cabin in the woods.

Why?

I think the reason that hikikomori are so common in Japan is partly due to the society. Everybody knows that Japanese society is a very strict one. There are rules governing everything, from the ways you can use chopsticks to the order in which colleagues should sit in when riding together in a taxi.

The flipside of all of these rules is an extreme aversion to failure. In Japan, it's not uncommon for a leader to take responsibility for any failure by resigning. It's a major part of the reason that I've seen 6 Prime Ministers in my not-quite-5 years here.

Another side effect of the strict society is the hikikomori. Hikikomori have usually failed at something. Some did badly in school. Some haven't worked out well with the opposite sex. Recently, I even saw on a drama one girl who ended up being a hikikomori because a guy called her ugly.

Facilitation

The thing is I don't think Westerners can really be recluses of the hikikomori variety. If you don't get up and go to work, you can't support yourself. And your parents or whoever else aren't going to keep leaving food on your bedside table if you refuse to brave the 10-minute walk to the supermarket. Not to mention the school-aged hikikomori. What do you mean, you're 13 and you've decided that going to school is too hard? Let me introduce you to my friend the truant officer.

Re-evaluation

When I first came here, hikikomori were bad ju-ju. Not in that they were bad people or something, but in that, somebody should have been doing something to help them. But I'm kind of re-evaluating that. The truth is that lately, I'm leaning (almost horizontal) towards being a hikikomori. One thing led to another, and being around people is kind of painful.

I'm not like some hikikomori who CAN'T go out or anything. And it's not like there isn't at least one place I still really enjoy going to. But I don't see the point in making myself go out if it's not fun. Spending my weekends and weeknights, curled up under a blanky (snowed earlier this week- Spring, where are you?) and watching J-dramas is fine by me. In fact, as a Japanese student and a writer, watching the ridiculous amount of dramas that I go through (an average of 11 episodes on the days I'm not at work) counts as studying in more ways than one.

I expect I will go back to the real world at some point. I suppose the writer in me doesn't have a choice. Unless I want to write re-hashings of J-dramas or anime, all the material is outside. But for now, I'm not sure that retreat is such a bad thing.