Have you ever felt like you were completely different from everyone around you? Have you ever actually BEEN completely different from everyone around you? Welcome to my life, or the life of any expatriate in Japan.
If you’re lucky enough to be living in the “backwoods” part of Japan (the north), then you may find yourself feeling even more out of place than if you were in Tokyo or Kyoto. You see the north of Japan is the area that has held on to a majority of the Japanese traditions. You’ll find Tokyo and other big cities have been westernized, but up here in no man’s land, the Japanese traditional lifestyle is alive and well. Perhaps this is why most of the younger generations leave this part of the country as soon as they graduate high school. They go off to search for greener pastures, leaving the north to become an aging population as the years go by. I am personally grateful that I am living in this part of Japan, as I get to experience “true Japan”, but it does not always help the fact that being an “outsider” can often take it’s toll.
I know we’ve all heard about culture shock before, so it’s no surprise that someone would feel awkward at times when living in a foreign country. I’ve chosen to approach this topic because Japan is the third foreign country that I have lived in during my lifetime, and I feel out-of-place here far more than I have in any other country. Is this a terrible dilemma? Not at all. It’s just simply “how it is”, and it’s something that one should expect if they’re thinking about packing their bags and hopping on a jet to Asia.
This feeling of “uniqueness”, if you will, is something I encounter every now and again. Before we get into the details, I want to emphasize that Japan is absolutely amazing, and thus far, I have thoroughly enjoyed my time here. I have no desire to leave anytime soon, but that doesn’t change the fact that the life of an expatriate can get lonely.
I have recently had such an experience, and it has prompted me to share my feelings with all of you. As I mentioned in previous blogs, graduation was this week, and after the ceremony, there was a party held with the graduating students’ parents. During graduation I started to feel a bit like I’d never really belong in Japan.
Imagine if you will that you are a teacher to students who can never fully understand you. You can get close to them if you try, but it is nearly impossible to connect with them on a personal level because of the language barrier. You can’t really joke with them, you can’t help them in times of need, and you teach a subject that they are often frustrated with. As the graduation ceremony commences, you start to feel the fact that you will never be a homeroom teacher, you can’t have a simple conversation with the students’ parents about how amazing their kid is, and you will never be able to fully portray to your students how incredibly proud you are of them. Of course, I try to do all of these things, but it isn’t easy… and this prompted my feeling of worthlessness after the graduation ceremony. I want to be and do all of these things that I mention, but it’s just not possible with the limitations I am dealt.
Now the day wasn’t all that bad. I had an amazing time with my kids and the ceremony was a great experience. I am just focusing on the parts that led to my culture shock on this particular day.
After the ceremony, we were loaded on to a bus to go to the party. Most of the teachers were driving or getting rides with other teachers. I was one of two teachers who were actually on the bus, and the rest were parents. Not knowing anyone on the bus just threw my feelings in a direction that I didn’t want them to go... I sat on the bus and didn’t speak a word to anyone because they were either too afraid to speak to me or vice versa. As we arrived at the hotel for the party, I was not doing so hot, and I started to have images of how the party was going to play out. Most of these images involved me sitting at a table by myself with no one to talk to and feelings of being an outsider. I started to dwell on the facts that I spoke a different language, looked completely different from everyone around me, was away from my family, could never live up to the expectations I had for myself in Japan, and was just hopeless in general.
In a state of culture shock, I walked into the hotel lobby only to have my principal and vice principal call me over to them. They talked to me for about 15 minutes about a festival display in the lobby, but neither of them can speak any English. My point for telling you this is that they were trying to communicate, despite the difficulties. And you can tell that they really want to get to know me, even though a language barrier exists. I started to perk up a bit, but then the thought of the dinner came back into my mind, and I pictured myself alone at a table. That image was soon discredited when I walked into the room only to have multiple teachers call me over to sit at their table. We talked, laughed, and drank together throughout the dinner, and parents came up to me telling me how much their students loved me. It was then that my culture shock was officially over, and I ended up having one of the best nights throughout my time in Japan. There was even a future party scheduled with random teachers so we could all just hang out together.
Culture shock comes and goes. Though I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get rid of it completely given my circumstances in Japan, I can appreciate every time that the feeling of loneliness is completely wiped away by my experiences as a teacher. The good far outweighs the bad, and you must remember this in times like the one mentioned above. Culture shock is an ugly monster, but it’s easy to beat if you’re prepared for it.
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