Genetic Observations?

Japanese students come from all walks of life. There are certain characteristics however that lend themselves to idiosyncrasies that I can't help but notice and record. Join me in my recollection of these puzzling, ritualistic habits I've been able to observe inside of the classroom.

1. Incessantly Erasing

In my school-going days, I've often made the trivial mistake in writing, such as incorrectly spelling "macaroni" without placing 'i' at the end. Usually, upon noticing the error I simply squeeze a truncated 'i' snugly between the last letter and whichever punctuation symbol I happen to use, possibly the period. If you thought this was a universal method of correction think again.

Not once have I seen one of my students using this tactic when I inform them of a spelling mistake. Instead they pull out a gigantic rectangular block eraser, the kinds we used in preschool, and erase the ENTIRE word instead of inserting a letter where it's needed. Can you imagine the look on my face when I tell a student "independence" in fact has an 'e' at the end, and they erase all 11 previously inscribed letters from their page and rewrite the entire word into the same shaded gray outlines of their previous attempt, after which they'll add the 'e' and look up waiting for my precious approval.

"Good job," I manage to say without laughing, "you got it."

(One of my student's genetically modified super erasers/paperweights. I think she's been using it since primary school)



2. Verbal Consensus

This is one of my least favorite attributes of Japanese students. It's quite possibly the deciding factor in coming to the decision that one year is enough, and that another year here would most certainly drive me to commit pupilicide. I must insert a dialogue here to illustrate the exchange.

"Good morning class!"

"Good morning Mr. Alex..." (This is almost always mumbled in unison in a barely audible sound, mostly bolstered by the voice of the other teacher in the classroom with me)

"It's ok if you call me Alex, or maybe even Mr. Cruz..."

After scanning the classroom and singling out the one student I've predetermined will be most capable of answering my next question--it's usually a girl, but in this case my clairvoyance failed me--I ask:

"Did you do anything this weekend?"

Her eyes open wide like I just transmogrified myself into a puff adder. Likewise her face becomes flushed, a telltale sign that she won't understand the question even if I repeated myself until my larynx collapsed.

Eventually the student took matters into her own hands. She held a small gathering with her neighbors to the left of, the right of, and behind her, and they debated silently about what could be an acceptable answer. After the pow-wow was finished, beaming with confidence she turned to face me and nodded her head as she said,

"Fine. And you?"

The entire ordeal took about 10 minutes, I shit you not. Because so much time had elapsed I myself forgot what question I even asked, and I concluded the listening practice with, "Good job."

Conclusion

Despite what it may sound like, although there are plenty of reasons to get frustrated in my position, I understand that my tenure here in this country is highly sought after. I am enjoying myself to the extent that a foreigner can enjoy himself in another country, and I will look back on these annoyances and laugh about them later.

In the meantime I only wish I was assigned to at least one elementary school instead of 4 senior high schools, which would provide a contrast with some much needed enthusiasm in my work life. With one sentence I will summarize what happens to a vivacious, energetic elementary school kid as he is brought up through the educational institution of this country:

The transition from elementary school to junior high school to senior high school is an eventual and regressive lapse into an emotionally languid state devoid of any form of enthusiasm caused by the highly stressful pressures and demands that Japanese society places on its denizens.

A Reputation At Stake

People who know me are aware of my notorious reputation of comparing the likenesses of individuals. Despite the ridicule I receive I still believe that I'm fairly adept at noticing a distinctive facial similarity between two people, although some of my closest friends would emphatically disagree.

In order to test myself I've assembled a series of comparisons of which I'll leave up to the reader to observe for themselves. If anyone is seriously offended at what you may potentially decide as my complete lack of eyesight, please send me a note and I will discontinue believing that I posess any skill in this arena.

Keep in mind that these aren't my best comparisons. Surely you will understand that I consider the most precious one's a secret. If ever I am under intense pressure on a more formidable stage, I would then have to bring out the big guns, the trench mortars of World War One if you will, in order to silence my critics.

These experimental comparisons I've prepared today in all of 10 minutes time. Please take a look and see for yourself.

1. Supreme Leader Ayatollah Khomeini & Sir Sean Connery


I don't think anyone can argue with me on this one. The man who orchestrated the Islamic Revolution of Iran in 1979 and the man who every guy wanted to be like since Dr. No (1962).

2. Johnny Depp and Leon Trotsky


Depp, who's often casted as eccentric, outlandish characters is poised next to another famous political ideologist, a major figure in another emotional statewide revolution who was later assassinated with an icepick by one of Stalin's goons during his exile in Mexico.

3. Terry Francona & Tom Morello from Rage Against the Machine (considering adding Freddy Kreuger as a triumverate)


This may be a stretch. I understand that two guys with shaved heads don't necessarily always have to share a resemblence, but this being an evaluation experiment, allow your minds to wander.

4. Vladimir Putin & Dobby from Harry Potter


This is no stretch. I'm confident enough that I will not even include a description or explanation of the resemblence.

5. Representative Henry Waxman & Killer from All Dogs Go To Heaven


In light of the recent controversy involving Mr. Clemens and his alleged involvment in using HGH, Waxman delivered the closing remarks in the 4 1/2 hour Congressional Oversight Committee hearing this week. I immediately knew his face was vaguely familiar, and it took only a few moments to recall the antagonist Carface's snivelling sidekick with the misnomer, Killer.

(You have no idea how hard it was to find this crappy picture of Killer)

Randomness and Supreme Hospitality

I was aimlessly riding my bike on just another lazy Sunday afternoon hoping for something random to happen. I was near the local train station when I suddenly heard a voice in Japanese say, "Alex-sensei!!" It was Señor Imachi, a part-time teacher at my school who can also speak a little Spanish, hence the name. Without delay he told me to follow him to his house. I found it a bit presumptuous but what could I say? I left my apartment hoping for something random and I had it.

At the Señor's house, when we entered the living room his wife, who before our arrival was happily enjoying herself watching TV, immediately stood up to greet me and began uttering phrases in Japanese that are similar in English to "Oh dear Lord I'm not ready to accept you into this dirty, unworthy house," or "Please forgive me for not having properly prepared for your visit." We sat on the couch and his wife disappeared into the kitchen to make us coffee and snacks. After chatting for a few minutes in a combination of broken Japanese, English and Spanish, the Señor asked me if I would honor him by drinking in his house.

I checked the time. 3:10 P.M. "...only in Japan..." I said to myself as I accepted the offer. We moved to a bare kitchen table and once again his wife initiated the conversation by apologizing for not having enough food in the house (there was plenty of food in the house) and started asking me what kind of foods I liked. Before I realized it, the Señor's wife had assembled a smorgasbord of aperitifs, and there was not an inch of table space after she was finished.


We indulged ourselves on brandy, cognac, shochu, sake, beer. We feasted on cheeses, fresh meats, fruits, veggies, but still a Japanese housewife's job is never finished.

After finding out that my favorite Japanese food was yakiniki , the Señor's wife drove to the local supermarket to get meat and chocolates, after which she gave me the chocolates, and cooked up a nice hot meal for her husband and myself. At about 8 P.M. I decided to depart before inducing myself into a food coma, but before I left I made two very important realizations. "Come to think of it, I actually like Japanese Ramen more than yakiniku," I thought to myself on the way home. My second realization is that I should make more unsolicited house calls to Japanese coworkers who are married.

(Some people marry Japanese women to get citizenship in order to enojy this every day)

The Japanese Face Mask

Despite sounding like a vicious maneuver in Greco-Roman wrestling, what I refer to in the picture of Iwamoto-sensei above is a standard article of clothing in Japan. As we've entered the winter months, the length of daylight has dwindled, the temperature fell, and more and more town residents can be seen wearing this peculiar looking device. Store clerks, bus drivers, fellow teachers, even some of my students have no shame as they carry on with their day while I try to pretend that they don't look completely ridiculous. What does this mask accomplish? Absolutely nothing except making people look like they are prepared to battle Shao Kahn and Motaro for the fate of the realm of Earth.


If you came to work with a cold, chances are someone's going to catch it from you notwithstanding that you're wearing a "protective" mask which is only a paper-thin layer of surgical gauze anyway. Japan, despite its recent technological progress at break-neck speed, has discovered that its best defense against airborne illness is a tissue that you fasten onto your face? It seems almost humorous. How effective can it really be? I astutely hypothesize that whoever makes these face masks is raking in millions while probably not really affecting the rate of flu victims per annum.

In any case its hard for me to take someone seriously when they talk to me through a thin layer of gauze. I've never before experienced trying to have a conversation with someone and not being able to see their lips move. Basic human communication should require that all areas of the face capable of vocal communication be in plain sight.

Business Ventures and Teleportations

The average price for tropical fruits here in Japan (canteloupe, watermelon, strawberries, pineapple, melon, etc) is enough to make one wonder just what kind of soil they must grow these things in. Take for example that the price for canteloupe in America usually ranges from $0.69 to $1.45 per pound, depending on the distrubtor, the supermarket, the wholesale price, and so on. A typical canteloupe generally weighs between 4 to 6 pounds, so let us assume a 5 pound canteloupe for simplicity. This means that in the U.S.A. the range for canteloupe prices is between $3.45 and $7.25. Now let's compare that with a canteloupe in Japan.

Take a look at this:



This is an average-sized canteloupe on display at the local supermarket across from my apartment. If you are unfamiliar with the currency conversion, the New York Federal Reserve posts a 106.74 Yen per U.S. dollar exchange rate on their website. This canteloupe (which is not a magic canteloupe) costs exactly ¥3,500. Converted into USD it is approximately $33. Here is my proposal: send me as many fresh canteloupes you can buy from street vendors in your town, and I'll sell them to people in my town for a bargain price of ¥3,000, or about $28. This is a net profit of around 400%, an unbeatable business strategy.

Before you head out the door in a hurry to start postmarking packages of canteloupes to Japan, I must remind you that there are certain trade restrictions that prohibit this kind of enterprise, and your melons probably wouldn't make it through U.S. and/or Japanese customs. In case any of you happen to perfect the art of teleportation that's an entirely different issue.

In the circumstance that you were to somehow invent a teleportation machine my first reservation would be that there are more pressing issues at hand than the prospect of you and I carving a comfortable niche in the global economy. For instance, if I possessed a machine with the ability to transport objects across vast distances of space with relative ease, I would teleport myself to the island on LOST and rescue everyone so that there will no longer be a need to continue producing those hyperdramatic, confusingly boring episodes.

What would you do?