They told me this was going to happen at Washington D.C. Orientation. They said, "This is how you will feel, in this order:
Totally understandable. I'm ready for that.
Excuse me? Depressed? Maybe some people, but I have never had a problem with homesickness.
Well dammit.
How reassuring...
I came to Japan and went through the first two bullets, all under the umbrella of the "Honeymoon Phase." I haven't thought much about it because I really like it here. And I haven't even started teaching yet, so that is something that I have been happily anticipating. I also made a ton of new friends this weekend at two separate welcome parties, one of which was for my area and one of which was for me (pictures to follow soon). Everything is happiness. But of course, there have been some frustrations that have arisen, and as I post all of the exciting, wonderful things that are happening over here, I think it only fair that I post the less than exciting ones as well. Two factors have been making me think (i.e. fret) a lot more than I should be thinking (fretting): The language barrier and the length of time I will stay in Japan.
Living in the peaceful Japanese countryside allows me to tackle the language head-on; it affords me the opportunity to practice my Japanese with abandon! How lovely! But also: it is SO FRUSTRATING. I really enjoy listening to people speak to me in Japanese because simply listening to it has improved my understanding of the language. It's fun, too! It's especially encouraging when I can understand a lot more than I thought I would be able to. Speaking is different, though. And so is reading.
With speaking, I'm constantly thinking about how to conjugate words correctly, how to speak proper keigo (or formal Japanese), vocabulary, and nuances that make a drastic difference in my ability to communicate what I'm thinking. For example, my supervisor informed me (in Japanese, as no one here can really speak English) that a coworker was going to send me important e-mail addresses from the middle school. I wanted to ask her if I was supposed to e-mail anyone at the school. I forgot how to say "supposed to," so instead I asked her "Do [will] I e-mail them?" She replied with "You can e-mail them." Okay...but am I supposed to e-mail them? Of course, I can easily look these things up on the computer. But when I am mid-conversation with someone, it is a bit disruptive to constantly be typing on the computer looking up the correct words or translating sentences via Google Translate (which, by the way, usually fails to properly translate what I want to say). So I try to spontaneously come up with another way of saying what I mean, but by that point my supervisor thinks I didn't understand her. Consequently, she begins to repeat herself and say the same thing in different ways and I respond by saying "No, no, 分かりますけど、喋るはちょっと難しい” which I don't even know if it makes sense to her, but is supposed to mean "I understand, but speaking is a bit difficult for me." By this point, we are both royally confused, she because she does not know what in the world I am saying and me because I am helplessly scrambling for some semblance of coherency.
As for writing. There are three writing systems: hiragana (simple letters), katakana (used for foreign words), and kanji (a more complicated set of characters derived from the Chinese writing system). Hiragana and katakana are a breeze, and are hardly helpful if one cannot read kanji. The Japanese employ about 2,000 kanji in everyday life. The places one can find kanji range from newspapers and store signs to food labels at the grocery store and maps at the train station. For many foreigners learning the language, kanji is the devil and my feelings toward the subject are no different. It is less than encouraging, for instance, to go to the grocery store looking for a particular kind of sauce, only to find that I cannot read any of the labels. It results in me wanting to give up reading Japanese, cooking, and being productive in general.
I like to think, however, that I am not so easily downtrodden. So to be proactive I bought a couple of children's books that have kanji with the simple hiragana characters written on the side. This way I can practice reading kanji and even interpret the book to help me learn some grammar as well. On top of this, I registered for the JET Japanese class, which runs from October-May, in addition to acquiring some online study materials to practice kanji on the side. Wow, so proactive! And so unbelievably overwhelming. Feeling overwhelmed is compounded by the fact that I don't know how long I will be in Japan. My entire life I have gone through this ebb and flow of learning the language, forgetting it, and learning it all over again. Now I have the opportunity I have hoped for- I live in a town where virtually no one speaks fluent English and where I am forced to practice all the Japanese I have ever learned. But how long will it actually take to become fluent? 2, 3 years? Certainly not just 1. But do I want to be here for that long? I have graduate-school plans, a long-term career that I eventually want to launch, and family and friends waiting for me at home. I feel forced to prioritize my desire to learn Japanese versus the aforementioned list. And sure, I know that I am young and that I have the rest of my life to worry about a career and grad school and such. But I just don't know what I want to do, what I want to prioritize. I don't know if I want to be here for more than one year in the grand-scheme of things. And if I stay here for just one year, will I be squandering the perfect opportunity to finally learn the language I have been dying to speak my whole life? How is it possible to learn 2,000 kanji and how to speak the language proficiently in 12 months! It's not. Maybe you all are beginning to sense the panic that floods my mind every time I'm alone in my house for more than an hour.
Sometimes people oh-so-insightfully point out, "But your mom is Japanese, so it must be pretty easy for you to learn." That is just not the case. In fact, I have begun to hear that so much from people that I can't help but be slightly bothered by it. For an explanation about why this is not the case for me, check out my 'Cultural Observations' tab in a day or two.
There is a Japanese word, 我慢 (gaman). It means patience, endurance, tolerance, perseverance. My mom taught it to me in high school, I believe when she was telling me a story about a Japanese runner who was trying to make it through the end of his long and painful race. I really like that word. It reminds me of when my club soccer coach in high school used to tell me "Emily, you don't always have to move forward. After you pass the ball, you can stay behind as support. You don't always have to rush. Have patience. The opportunity will come." I feel that way about my time in Japan. Do not get me wrong. I am not saying that I need patience while I am in Japan to get me through the year. I love it here!! It has been a blast the past month and I suspect the rest of the year will be just as thrilling. In fact, I feel that at the end of the year I will want nothing more than to be in this fairyland of a place with a fun job and a decent salary. But I feel that I am always looking at the next thing. After all, JET is not forever. Everyone who leaves JET says to value how well they take care of us here because the real world back in the States isn't the same. So I begin to think, what is my next move? What's going to be best for me? I hate not knowing and even more than that I hate feeling like I don't have control over what will happen to me next. In this case, I don't know what it will be like looking for a job after JET and I don't know if staying in Japan or going home is the better choice.
The worst part about this is, I haven't even started my job in the classroom. It kills me that I am rushing ahead thinking about the next thing and I haven't even interacted with the students yet. That's when I think of 我慢. I need the patience to wait until my job develops a bit more before I start thinking about my next move. I need the tolerance to withstand the frustration of not knowing what will happen next. I haven't quite reached the level of 我慢 that I wish to be at, but thinking about it reminds me of how awesome teaching will be and how everything will change once I get to know my students. That is good motivation to 頑張る(ganbaru), or try my best and be patient.
I don't think this adventure would be fun if there wasn't some sort of struggle along the way, and I guess this is one of them for me. I have been searching for a way to overcome how overwhelmed I have been feeling lately, but it seems like the more I think about it the more anxious I become. SO. After this blog post I am going to try my hardest to let it go (they sing that song here on the radio all the time, by the way) and just focus on each week at a time.
- Excited. You have probably already entered a phase of disbelief that you are actually moving across the world, to another country, to Japan! You're thinking, 'I'm going on the adventure of a lifetime.'"
- "Next, you will get there and experience some culture shock, still in a phase of wonderment and awe at how beautiful the country is, how nice everyone is treating you, the unstoppable thrill of the adventure. But you might feel a bit disoriented. Setting up a foreign bank account, paying your first month's rent, figuring out how truly long of a process Japanese paperwork and red tape takes, might slow down this seemingly fast-paced trajectory toward a lifetime of happiness."
Totally understandable. I'm ready for that.
- "Then you will be depressed."
Excuse me? Depressed? Maybe some people, but I have never had a problem with homesickness.
- "Even those who rarely get homesick will have a moment of panic. You will think, 'What am I doing here? Why did I think this was a good idea? Good gravy, I don't know what I'm doing with my life.'"
Well dammit.
- "Don't worry. You'll adjust, and then you'll be happy again. And then you might cycle through that list a few more times before you level off and enjoy your life in Japan."
How reassuring...
I came to Japan and went through the first two bullets, all under the umbrella of the "Honeymoon Phase." I haven't thought much about it because I really like it here. And I haven't even started teaching yet, so that is something that I have been happily anticipating. I also made a ton of new friends this weekend at two separate welcome parties, one of which was for my area and one of which was for me (pictures to follow soon). Everything is happiness. But of course, there have been some frustrations that have arisen, and as I post all of the exciting, wonderful things that are happening over here, I think it only fair that I post the less than exciting ones as well. Two factors have been making me think (i.e. fret) a lot more than I should be thinking (fretting): The language barrier and the length of time I will stay in Japan.
Living in the peaceful Japanese countryside allows me to tackle the language head-on; it affords me the opportunity to practice my Japanese with abandon! How lovely! But also: it is SO FRUSTRATING. I really enjoy listening to people speak to me in Japanese because simply listening to it has improved my understanding of the language. It's fun, too! It's especially encouraging when I can understand a lot more than I thought I would be able to. Speaking is different, though. And so is reading.
With speaking, I'm constantly thinking about how to conjugate words correctly, how to speak proper keigo (or formal Japanese), vocabulary, and nuances that make a drastic difference in my ability to communicate what I'm thinking. For example, my supervisor informed me (in Japanese, as no one here can really speak English) that a coworker was going to send me important e-mail addresses from the middle school. I wanted to ask her if I was supposed to e-mail anyone at the school. I forgot how to say "supposed to," so instead I asked her "Do [will] I e-mail them?" She replied with "You can e-mail them." Okay...but am I supposed to e-mail them? Of course, I can easily look these things up on the computer. But when I am mid-conversation with someone, it is a bit disruptive to constantly be typing on the computer looking up the correct words or translating sentences via Google Translate (which, by the way, usually fails to properly translate what I want to say). So I try to spontaneously come up with another way of saying what I mean, but by that point my supervisor thinks I didn't understand her. Consequently, she begins to repeat herself and say the same thing in different ways and I respond by saying "No, no, 分かりますけど、喋るはちょっと難しい” which I don't even know if it makes sense to her, but is supposed to mean "I understand, but speaking is a bit difficult for me." By this point, we are both royally confused, she because she does not know what in the world I am saying and me because I am helplessly scrambling for some semblance of coherency.
As for writing. There are three writing systems: hiragana (simple letters), katakana (used for foreign words), and kanji (a more complicated set of characters derived from the Chinese writing system). Hiragana and katakana are a breeze, and are hardly helpful if one cannot read kanji. The Japanese employ about 2,000 kanji in everyday life. The places one can find kanji range from newspapers and store signs to food labels at the grocery store and maps at the train station. For many foreigners learning the language, kanji is the devil and my feelings toward the subject are no different. It is less than encouraging, for instance, to go to the grocery store looking for a particular kind of sauce, only to find that I cannot read any of the labels. It results in me wanting to give up reading Japanese, cooking, and being productive in general.
I like to think, however, that I am not so easily downtrodden. So to be proactive I bought a couple of children's books that have kanji with the simple hiragana characters written on the side. This way I can practice reading kanji and even interpret the book to help me learn some grammar as well. On top of this, I registered for the JET Japanese class, which runs from October-May, in addition to acquiring some online study materials to practice kanji on the side. Wow, so proactive! And so unbelievably overwhelming. Feeling overwhelmed is compounded by the fact that I don't know how long I will be in Japan. My entire life I have gone through this ebb and flow of learning the language, forgetting it, and learning it all over again. Now I have the opportunity I have hoped for- I live in a town where virtually no one speaks fluent English and where I am forced to practice all the Japanese I have ever learned. But how long will it actually take to become fluent? 2, 3 years? Certainly not just 1. But do I want to be here for that long? I have graduate-school plans, a long-term career that I eventually want to launch, and family and friends waiting for me at home. I feel forced to prioritize my desire to learn Japanese versus the aforementioned list. And sure, I know that I am young and that I have the rest of my life to worry about a career and grad school and such. But I just don't know what I want to do, what I want to prioritize. I don't know if I want to be here for more than one year in the grand-scheme of things. And if I stay here for just one year, will I be squandering the perfect opportunity to finally learn the language I have been dying to speak my whole life? How is it possible to learn 2,000 kanji and how to speak the language proficiently in 12 months! It's not. Maybe you all are beginning to sense the panic that floods my mind every time I'm alone in my house for more than an hour.
Sometimes people oh-so-insightfully point out, "But your mom is Japanese, so it must be pretty easy for you to learn." That is just not the case. In fact, I have begun to hear that so much from people that I can't help but be slightly bothered by it. For an explanation about why this is not the case for me, check out my 'Cultural Observations' tab in a day or two.
There is a Japanese word, 我慢 (gaman). It means patience, endurance, tolerance, perseverance. My mom taught it to me in high school, I believe when she was telling me a story about a Japanese runner who was trying to make it through the end of his long and painful race. I really like that word. It reminds me of when my club soccer coach in high school used to tell me "Emily, you don't always have to move forward. After you pass the ball, you can stay behind as support. You don't always have to rush. Have patience. The opportunity will come." I feel that way about my time in Japan. Do not get me wrong. I am not saying that I need patience while I am in Japan to get me through the year. I love it here!! It has been a blast the past month and I suspect the rest of the year will be just as thrilling. In fact, I feel that at the end of the year I will want nothing more than to be in this fairyland of a place with a fun job and a decent salary. But I feel that I am always looking at the next thing. After all, JET is not forever. Everyone who leaves JET says to value how well they take care of us here because the real world back in the States isn't the same. So I begin to think, what is my next move? What's going to be best for me? I hate not knowing and even more than that I hate feeling like I don't have control over what will happen to me next. In this case, I don't know what it will be like looking for a job after JET and I don't know if staying in Japan or going home is the better choice.
The worst part about this is, I haven't even started my job in the classroom. It kills me that I am rushing ahead thinking about the next thing and I haven't even interacted with the students yet. That's when I think of 我慢. I need the patience to wait until my job develops a bit more before I start thinking about my next move. I need the tolerance to withstand the frustration of not knowing what will happen next. I haven't quite reached the level of 我慢 that I wish to be at, but thinking about it reminds me of how awesome teaching will be and how everything will change once I get to know my students. That is good motivation to 頑張る(ganbaru), or try my best and be patient.
I don't think this adventure would be fun if there wasn't some sort of struggle along the way, and I guess this is one of them for me. I have been searching for a way to overcome how overwhelmed I have been feeling lately, but it seems like the more I think about it the more anxious I become. SO. After this blog post I am going to try my hardest to let it go (they sing that song here on the radio all the time, by the way) and just focus on each week at a time.