The Long Story: From July 2004 to July 2007, I worked as an Assistant English Teacher (ALT) at two elementary schools and a junior high in rural Okayama, Japan. One of the questions I was most frequently asked by adults was “Why did you choose to come to Okayama?” It’s important to note that even Okayama folks knew they lived in a place that everyone else considered a cultural backwater and were amused that anyone would choose to live there (especially coming, as I did, from not only the United States but Los Angeles, home of movie stars and Disneyland).

To be honest, I didn’t really choose Okayama. The JET Programme application allows for applicants to “request” three areas they’d like to go if a teaching position exists but there’s no guarantee of placement. I’d done quite a bit of research about JET and knew that my chances of teaching in inaka (“the boonies”> were high. As an artist, I thought it might be interested to learn a Japanese art so I chose three places that were famous for pottery. Okayama ended up first on my list because, not only is it famous for Bizen-yaki, it has great weather. In fact, the weather in Okayama is nearly identical to the weather of my hometown, Washington, DC.

Of course, when I first arrived in Japan, I didn’t have the language skills to really all that so a typical conversation went like this:

日本人：なぜ岡山県に来たか？
Japanese person: Why did you come to Okayama?
私：天気がいい。
Me: The weather’s good.

This would always elicit peals of laughter and, if my companions were male and fairly liquored up, they might suggest that there are other things in Okayama that are good, if I caught their drift.

Heh. But I digress.

I did a lot to improve the quality of English teaching at my schools. At junior high, I put together a weekly curriculum to complement the reading and writing-heavy curriculum with speaking and listening roleplaying exercises. I ran after-school Eiken preparation classes and I taught elective classes in which students performed plays and put together an English DVD about themselves and their dreams for the future. At elementary school, I used the same roleplaying approach to teaching and added props. I also played a modified “English” version of UNO with the students in between classes. If I had sixth period free, I spent it with the 1st and 2nd grade students who were waiting for their older brothers and sisters to finish classes so they could go home together. We did our homework together (I was studying kanji, preparing for Kanji Kentei) and then we played UNO.

When one of my students’ father’s invited me to make shaved ice in his family’s booth at the big summer Flea Market, I joined in with enthusiasm. I also joined his team in the local softball league. Most of the teams came from automotive factories based around town but mine was made up of older local guys. Our first baseman had to be nearly 80 and our pitcher/manager was the grandfather of some of my junior high students. We never won a single game but that wasn’t the point – softball was just an excuse to get together and drink afterwards. And teach the foreign English teacher bad puns, Japanese riddles, and slang so local folks just up the road wouldn’t understand it.

Despite the amount of time I spent with the adults and children in my community, there were definitely times when I despaired about making any difference in the perception of Americans in Japanese eyes. One year, I had a really nasty cold that kept me home from school for several days. When I returned to school, one of my students rather innocently wondered aloud, “Americans can get colds?” That same year, my supervisor told me that my English handwriting was atrocious and I made my zeroes backwards. He also chastised me for eating too many mikans because the palms of my hands were “too yellow.”

But I did see small changes. When I first arrived, I was often asked “How do Americans celebrate Christmastime?” and I always countered this with “Well, you know, in America we have a lot of different kinds of people and some of them celebrate like this.. and some celebrate like…” After three years, people stopped asking me what Americans do and started asking me what I, or my family, did.

And sometimes I saw big changes. After one of my former junior high students tried to run away from home twice in high school, I was asked to talk to him. Because of all the teachers at junior high, I’d encouraged his writing and his drawing the most. We traded books and movies back and forth and talked about games and comic book character development and movies. When I came to his house, it was the first time a foreigner had been there but nothing between us was different – we talked about games and comic book character development and movies. And in the end, with support of many teachers and his own family, he was fine – he graduated high school with his classmates and went on to study animation in Tokyo.

At this time, I knew that I was going to be the last JET teacher in my town as the Board of Education has decided to get ALTs from a company called Interac rather than through the JET Programme. My town wasn’t the only town – other towns and cities in Okayama had done the same. I knew my successor had big shoes to fill so I spent a month preparing for her – I took pictures of every one of my students and had all of them make a magnetized English nametag they could stick to their desk so she could learn their names easily. I documented all of my roleplays and games and left her notes about each class year’s particular strengths and quirks. I left her my props, my many decks of UNO, my big box of American crayons, my Totoro stamps, and my hope.

And she stayed for six months.

I don’t know how many English teachers have come and gone since that first one but I wonder if any of them still remember the students’ names or interests. Did they write letters to their students while they were there? Trade postcards at New Year’s? Run in the relay at Field Day? Haggle with a vendor at the Flea Market for a remote-controlled truck? Give confidence to a student just realizing how different he is from his peers? Inspire a student to study English conversation outside of school?

As of July this year, the Japanese government has been considering cutting the JET Programme from its budget. Their budget concerns are real and deserve attention. But so does the JET Programme. To show my support for JET, I’ve created an online exhibit called 100 English Dreams combining photographs of my students with their actual thoughts about English. Please give it a look and pass it on.

Or I will hound you. Incessantly.

Brazen exhibitionist that I am, I immediately volunteered to present at the opening night reception. I’ve actually given this presentation a couple of times but it was especially nice to give to a crowd with a good concentration of native Japanese folks. One of the nicest comments I got was from Ayako Smethurst, Program Coordinator for the JET Program at the Japanese Embassy, who said that the photographs transported her back to her own elementary and junior high days in Japan. So there you have it: independent verification that my stuff is the real deal.

Or should I say, #theRealDeal.

The event was recorded and I hope to have a video link for you shortly. In meantime, here’s my presentation in so many words and pictures:

The first thing I had to learn was how to take off and put on my shoes quickly and gracefully without sitting down or using my hands. A clear line between inside and outside can be seen throughout Japanese culture. These are courtesy slippers laid out for visitors to wear inside the school on Graduation Day.

The second thing I had to learn was how to respond positively to the typical reaction foreigners get from kids (and sometimes adults!) in Japan. This is first-grade Tomohiro after our first class together.

I also learned that my schools were tasked with instilling and maintaining a uniform sense of “Japanese-ness” in not just the students but their language, their behavior and even their physical appearance. Which 2nd grade Haruka (or likely her parents) are attempting to redefine with her dyed brown hair.

To build global cultural awareness, I did a lot of typical American cultural activities in class, like making Valentine’s Day cards. I let the kids decorate the cards however they wished – the girls would cover theirs with cute animals and rainbows, the boys with guns, robots, and Pokemon.

I also did a lot of roleplaying activities in class. Japanese theatre has a long tradition of men playing women’s roles that continues today. I find this photo of 6th grade boys playing with some of roleplaying props after class an interesting analogue.

On the left is Saki, in the fourth grade. Students are taught that the keys to success are discipline and practice, practice, practice. Every day at recess, while other students careened around her on the blacktop on their unicycles, Saki would rock back and forth in place until she could balance perfectly, even at a standstill.

Students also learn respect for nature and the environment at school. In the 2nd grade, it seemed like all my students, including the girls, went through a phase of keeping insects as pets. This is third grade Tsubasa with his new pet, a praying mantis he had just discovered on the playground.

Teachers work long hours in Japan. A typical teacher’s weekday would begin at 7am and end around 6pm, although the school day officially ends at 5pm when the students go home. Teachers also work weekends as sports coaches, chaperone at town festivals and events, and escort students to high school entrance exams and academic contests. Here, the junior high science teacher catches 40 winks at his desk after a full day of graduation events.

Japan is a vertical society with the older members responsible for transmitting knowledge to the younger (and ostensibly, obedient) members. Here, at an all-school carnival, 5th grade Hiroki shows 3rd grade Akio how to shoot a rubber band gun while, in the background 5th grade Natsuka guides 2nd grade Ruka into position.

Sports Day is one of the biggest events of the school year. Students spend over a month practicing relays, making costumes and learning dances. Here, you can clearly see the vertical hierarchy with teachers on the right setting an example for the 6th graders in the middle who, in turn, are leading the whole school in opening warm-up exercises.

Schools are also tasked with teaching students teamwork and how to function harmoniously in groups. Consequently, baton-pass relay races figure prominently into Sports Day. Each grade has their own relay – here are the 4th graders passing the baton in their final lap.

It is said in Japan that the only real friends you have are the ones you made in grade school. I think this is especially true for students in small rural communities who generally graduate from junior high school with the same 20-30 classmates they entered kindergarten with.

The final performance at junior high Sports Day is a circle dance choreographed by the 9th graders. As Sports Day is the last major school event before they enter what is commonly known as “high school entrance exam hell,” this is one of the last times for these kids to be truly happy and carefree at school.

The next three slides are examples of unique challenges I faced teaching English in Japan. Students who refuse to speak at school, like Miku here in the second grade, are not unusual. How could I make speaking English fun for a student who didn’t even want to speak her own language?

I also had a number of students who didn’t attend school regularly, like Aoi here in the 6th grade. She was isolated from her peers and awkward in group environments. How could I encourage her to participate in and enjoy group activities in English class?

These twins were diagnosed with autism and attention deficit disorder. They absolutely adored curry rice and Nintendo games and could take about both for hours. So we did. In English.

The boy on the right is ashamed. He’s refusing to join his classmates in a graduating class picture because, unlike them, he hasn’t gotten into a high school yet. High school attendance is not mandatory in Japan and competition for schools in the rural countryside where students have few options, is fierce.

This is the final procession at graduation. Non-graduating students and teachers form a human tunnel called the “hana-michi,” which means “flower road.” Here, it symbolizes how each student, like Ayaka above flashing double peace signs to her mom’s video camera, has blossomed and is ready to move on to the next stage in life.

These students are getting ready for school dismissal. Every day after school, regardless of weather, all students would gather in the school courtyard to listen to announcements from teachers. During these announcements, they were expected to stand neatly and silently in rows and listen attentively. But in the ten minutes or so it would take the entire school body to come together with their hats, coats, backpacks, artwork, science projects, homework, PE uniforms, etc., they’re just regular kids – free to relax and play. (This incidentally, is the photograph that was chosen for the exhibition)

A note: my favorite part of this picture is the discarded glove in the lower left. Wherever there be kids, there are also discarded gloves (and socks and hats and pencils and..)

My current bike started life as a GT Karakoram. It came in two paint finishes – fire engine red and black light, which was black paint with transparent metallic purple splatter effect. Which sounds really cheesy but was SUPER cool in the early 90s. Like Steve Austin, it was steadily upgraded into a bionic Frankenbike to be lighter, faster and able to get me up those last three blocks of Georgia Avenue to school with several tons of art supplies on my back. I think the only original parts on it now are the cranks, the front wheel, and possibly the brake cantilevers.

When I moved to Japan in 2004 to teach on The JET Programme, I took it with me. As we initially had training in Tokyo for 3 days, any luggage we didn’t need for those 3 days was shipped on to our final destinations. When I arrived in tiny Aida 3 days later, it was waiting patiently for me at the Board of Education.

Shortly thereafter, I had the following conversation about it with my supervisor, Shimoyama-kacho.

S-Kacho: Is this a bicycle?
Me: Yes, I had it shipped from LA. I’ve had it for a long time.
S-Kacho: You shipped it here?
Me: Yes.
S-Kacho: We have bicycles in Japan.
Me: I know. But this one is special.
S-Kacho:….

Of all the relationships I’ve had (outside of the ones I was born into, of course), the bike and I have been together the longest. It’s been with me through valleys where the wind blows both ways, through the green rice fields of summer, past rundown former mining towns, through the streets of Los Feliz and Silver Lake, all over DC and in and out of Rock Creek Park. I’ve even been chased by monkeys while riding it.

When we first arrived in Japan, we were told that the top two things stolen in Japan are bicycles and umbrellas. Both are easily replaceable (a decent bike for getting around town can be had for $100) and ubiquitous. People often “borrow” bikes to get from one place to another and abandoned bikes are everywhere.

One semi-inebriated night, my next-door neighbor and I liberated an abandoned bike from the local Happy Mart. It was a small steel folding bike with 15-inch wheels, 6 speeds, and a flat tire. I rehabilitated it, removed all of its identifying decals and took it to my in-laws to use when visiting them (and my now ex-husband) during school vacations.

It was a quirky thing – 15″ wheels aren’t much good for going up hills and the relative seat height made it much more unstable at all speeds. But it did have a rear wheel rack that was good for bungeeing things like groceries to. And, if it ever got a sideways glance, it was because of the gaijin riding it. If riding the mountain bike was athletic adrenalin power joy, riding the folding bike was carefree giggly childs play. In the local Walmart-equivalent, I found a pair of tire stem caps for it. They were tiny, motion-activated, clear plastic Godzillas that lit up when the wheels turned.

I was genuinely sad to leave it behind when I left Japan but I could only afford to bring one bike home with me. Hopefully, some other well-meaning person of slightly questionable morality has made off with it and given it a new home.

Bike stats for the curious:
1995 GT Zaskar LE frame with (mostly) Shimano Deore LX components. Rear wheel: a Bontrager aluminum rim with Ringle hub & titanium cassette. Front wheel: OEM Araya rim with LX hub. Thomson aluminum seatpost with Specialized seat. OEM Brahma bar handlebars with extender and adjustable stem. Carbon fiber front fork and some cheap pedals.

This is a haori and is definitely my favorite picture of the bunch. I love the interplay of colors and pattern. Haori were the short coats worn in the colder months. The outside is a woven pattern but the inside is dyed.

Until the end of the class system, Japanese were only allowed to wear certain colors and use certain materials depending on their social status (farmer, artisan, merchant or samurai). Often times, however, they would wear subdued outer clothing so as not to get in trouble but lined their clothing with “forbidden” fabrics.

This still exists in modern times – high school boys who want to be cool line their uniform jackets with silk or patterned fabrics. Girls have less options although one of the teachers I worked with said that the “bad girls” at his school took to wearing brightly colored bras beneath their white uniform shirts.

This is a juban – which is an undergarment.

Nice example of weaving.

Here, the balance of color and graphic elements are most important. Pink and red were (and still are) considered “sexy” colors and were often used for linings.

This is a kimono most likely worn by an older woman.

Here, the design is painted on after the garment has been dyed. As a finishing touch, the pinecones are stitched on. Pine is a symbol of long life and figures prominently in end of the year celebrations.

A subtle woven pattern on the lining here.