You were right, Mom.

On Thursdays, I teach my Starfish classes (5yr olds) in the afternoons at Minori Gaoka, two classes back-to-back. I really look forward to these classes as my 5yr olds are generally very well-behaved (as well-behaved as 5yr old kids can be in the afternoon), so I'm able to do more with them than with my lesser-behaved classes (like my 4yr olds lol). One activity that we often do at the end of class (if time permits) is drawing. I love to draw, and so do the kids (most of them), so it's something that they all generally look forward to. Last Thursday, my first Starfish class began pretty late, so we didn't have time for drawing, so I was really looking forward to drawing with my second class.

Unfortunately, my second class, quite unusually, was pretty disruptive that day. The activities that worked really well with my other 5yr old classes were not having much success with these kids. It was the end of class, and I had given them a choice (yes, I even let them choose!) whether they wanted to play the activity for that day again, or draw. The overwhelming majority wanted to draw. However, to make it more applicable to the teaching material, I wanted the "theme" of our drawing to have something to do with the song for this month, "Pop Goes the Weasel." Because the only CD we have for this song sucks major a$$ (sorry, just being honest), I usually just sing it myself. In the afternoon classes, it's hit-or-miss whether they respond well to the song, but usually I can get them to listen and at least have a few kids participate. However, this class was different; NO one was listening or participating. After a few defeated attempts, I looked up at the clock and saw that it was within 1-2min of the end of class. Under normal circumstances, had we already started drawing, I wouldn't have minded sticking around a few extra minutes to allow them more time to draw. However, given their behavior (and the fact that we hadn't even started the song, let alone drawing), I just threw up my hands and said, "You know what? Owatta." (translation: "We're finished.") At first, I don't think the kids understood what was going on, but as I began gathering up my materials into my basket, and not saying a word to anyone, I think they began to understand something was up.

I couldn't speak to them. I couldn't even look them in the eyes :( After gathering everything into my basket, I began rolling up the carpet that they sit on during the lesson. THAT, probably more than anything, showed some of them that something was up (rolling up the carpet and returning it to their classroom is typically the kid's responsibility). One of the girls even began to cry a little; I think she understood she had done something wrong. Unfortunately, all I could do was look at her and say, "What?" I wanted to explain to her that her actions had consequences, that if it were my choice we'd be laughing and drawing right now. But my Japanese is nowhere near that level, so all I could mutter (in English, no less) was, "What?".

My heart broke. But what could I do? There was a side of me that desperately wanted to forgive everyone and begin drawing, but then no lesson would ever be learned that misbehavior is not rewarded. So I just let my kids go, some of them probably still oblivious to what had happened, but others quite aware. They were the ones that misbehaved, that were being "punished," and yet I was the one that ended up feeling like crap.

As I began walking down to the first floor (the 4 & 5 yr old classrooms are on the 2nd floor), I paused. I'd considered walking back up, assembling my Starfish together, and attempting to explaining to them that what they had done was wrong, but that we're cool now, so let's draw!! I wanted things to end on a good note. But I couldn't do it. I shouldn't do it. I had to stand my ground. My actions had consequences too.

On the way home, and for most of that evening, all I could think about was what I had done. I still believe it was the right thing to do, but it was so hard. At one point, I actually did feel like crying a little. And though this made me feel extremely vulnerable, a realization came to me: I really do love these kids. I think for me to take such a seemingly innocuous action so personally, I'd have to love them. It was also at this point that I'd made the realization that this, at least in some small way, must be what it's like to be a parent. Considering this has been one of my prayers (off & on) for the past year or so, it wouldn't surprise me if my coming to Japan to teach children were not, in part, God's method for training me to one day have kids of my own.

Growing up, my mother would sometimes explain to me (after punishing me) that, "it hurt me more than it hurt you." As a child (with a very sore butt), I never understood what she meant by this. I always thought it was "just something grown-ups say" so that you'd hate them less for the punishment they'd just given you. However now, without even being a parent, I think I understand what she meant.

You're right, Mom. It hurts like hell.

Honne & Tatemae

I believe all people, regardless of race or culture, have (at least) two sides to them: the side of them they allow people to see, and the side of them they keep hidden from most (if not all) others. In English, we have many words to describe either side; for the outer-self: a mask, facade, front, cover; for the inner-self: our true being, genuine self, "the real me". In Japan, they have ほんね (honne) and たてまえ (tatemae).

Honne (pronounced: "ho-n-ne") is the inner-self, a person's genuine thoughts and words. Tatemae (pronounced: "tah-tey-mah-eh") is the outer-self, the words and expressions that they reveal to most people on a daily basis.

As I mentioned before, this phenomenon isn't anything new or unique to Japanese people; we're all guilty of it on one level or another. However, what sets Japan apart (at least from the U.S.) is that the concept of honne/tatemae is something that is indoctrinated into them from an early age, and not just from parents, but from schools, work...the culture at large!

In the U.S., I believe, the degree to which one is willing and able to express their true feelings/thoughts depends heavily on their environment: who their parents are, how they were raised, what they believe. However, I wouldn't go so far as to say it's a cultural thing; there's no conscious, collective pressure to repress one's true thoughts and emotions. However, in Japan there is, and that's what frustrates me.

The people here, even if they desparately want to "be themselves" often feel that they simply can't. Again, I realize this dilemma exists everywhere (including the U.S.), but not on a cultural level. For example, there have been many times (while living in the U.S.) that I've felt I couldn't "be myself", but it had very little (or nothing) to do with the societal norm, but rather my own personal insecurities. In Japan, however, even a very emotionally-secure person would still feel pressure from their culture to withhold expressing their honest thoughts or opinions.

To be fair, not every Japanese person conforms to this norm utterly and completely. Many of my Japanese friends, for example, are much more "open" than the average nihonjin (Japanese person). In particular, many of my Japanese friends who have come on the Homestay International homestay program have been extremely "un-Japanese-like", especially while they were visiting in the U.S..

Am I being ethnocentric by expressing that I feel this cultural norm is a problem? Maybe, but I'm not suggesting that the U.S.'s culture is superior and that Japan should completely abandon their own & adopt ours; our culture has quite a few blemishes of its own! However, on the issue of honne/tatemae, I believe I'm justified in suggesting that the Japanese challenge this cultural standard, and decide for themselves just how "open" they're comfortable being, WITHOUT the condemning eye of the cultural watchdog :D

A Prayer for Japan

I was at the shrine closest to my house (shrines are my new favorite place to "get away from it all"), when I felt the need to pray this prayer. I don't generally write them down, but this one I felt compelled to. It went something like this:

[Entry from journal - 11.Jun.09]

Father,

I pray that you would make my heart break for the Japanese people. I love them, for sure, and I desire that they would know you and love you. I even feel that, to some small extent, I've been faithful in this. However, I want my heart to break. I want tears of loving sorrow to fill my eyes each time I consider just how spiritually lost Japan is as a whole.

I don't want to forget why I'm here: to love the Japanese people and to serve them, bringing glory to your name in the process by sharing with them the love that Jesus showed to all of us. Help me to never stop loving.

Thank you, Father :D