LIFE IN A FISH BOWL

I knew at the time of signing my contract that teaching in Asia would come along with great responsibility, but what I wasn’t aware of was just how much entertaining I would be doing. Though I wasn’t trying to break into the entertainment business with my career move, it’s often where I find myself, dealing with both the good and bad that comes along with it.

Most of the time, I enjoy my life here. Akita is a beautiful place to live, my job is fulfilling, and I have made wonderful friends. As an American in Japan, walking down the street elicits heads to turn in order to see where I’m going, what I’m doing, who I’m with, and what move I’ll make next. Those that are tactful manage to just stare out of the corner of their eyes, but it seems the older population are not afraid to stare you down as if you’re something from another planet. And often, I feel like I am. There is no doubt that just being in Japan has increased my “coolness rating”. In fact, there’s even a little joke among the expatriate teachers here… “If you’re a 6 in America, you’re a 9 in Japan.”

My students have proven this little joke true. The majority of my students treat me like a rock star, and everything I do is “interesting” or “cool”. If I wear sunglasses one day while driving to school, all of my kids comment on them and how amazing I must be to have such a pair of shades. I can have days that leave my head feeling ten times heavier from all of the compliments I receive or smiles I am given from others around me. In short, the celebrity treatment is wonderful, and it often adds to my day a feeling of importance in the world. But there is the other side of the spectrum that makes life in the spotlight a bit more difficult.

Not only am I expected to teach, but also I am to be on show for all to see. Students expect your lessons to be outstanding and fun, even when you’re given the most boring of topics to cover. If you have a lesson that is solely based on academic learning, they think there must be something wrong with you, and all of the glamour fades quickly.

Outside of school, making friends can be difficult. If you can manage to get past the shyness that is automatically created when Japanese people encounter foreigners, you still have to worry about whether or not the friendship is genuine. It is common for those that do approach us to be looking for free English lessons. Now please understand that not everyone is like this… it’s just something to look out for.

Besides students and friends, other people just tend to treat you like a zoo animal. I’ve had people stop their grocery carts in the store to just stop and stare at me. You are constantly in a fish bowl, and it always seems like someone’s looking in.

I think the worst part about all of the attention is that you can just never “get away”. After almost a year of living in Japan, at times I can’t help but feel like a celebrity running from the paparazzi. Now don’t get me wrong, I know that I’m no A-list celebrity, and I’m not to the point of attacking a cameraman or shaving my head for the tabloids. However, having constant attention does take its toll. If I go to the store, a teacher at my school may come up to me the next day and say, “Hey, I heard you went to the grocery store yesterday.” This little piece of information is supposed to be a conversation starter, but in reality, it just leaves me feeling awkward and a bit like I have a stalker. I know most people mean well, but imagine if you could never have privacy except in your own home.

Nine times out of ten, I am thrilled to have someone talk to me purely because I am a foreigner. This type of interaction can often lead to future invitations to cultural events or new friendships. But every once in a while, I find the attention a bit overbearing and frustrating. For example, yesterday I was just having a bad day. I was exhausted at school, my students were not cooperative because they had been tired, and the weather was dreary. All in all, it was just “one of those days”. After school, I wanted nothing other than to just relax at the park, enjoying some hanami (cherry tree viewing). As I reached the park to meet another English teacher in my town, I walked into the park to find a festival going on. This would be nice in every other situation except for the fact that the majority of my students from all THREE schools were there. I saw the uniforms and I knew my night of tranquility was at an end. My name was shouted out among the masses and waves were enthusiastically shot at me. I automatically put the smile on my face that teachers always do and said “hello” about 400 times as each student came up to me during my walk through the park.

In the end, I still love my students, but it would have been nice to get away for the evening after such a long day at school. I guess that’s something you just accept when becoming a teacher at three schools that all surround the town you live in. Most of the time I love seeing my kids outside of school because it’s when they show their “true selves”. Even though that night wasn’t the most ideal evening to encounter all of them at once, I must admit that despite my mood that particular evening, they could still make me laugh… And I still felt pretty cool.

ONE OF THESE THINGS IS NOT LIKE THE OTHER ONES

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.