Japanese Language Class

One of the advantages of living in a city, as opposed to a very rural area like where I first lived, is that there is a higher likelihood of having access to Japanese language classes. They range from pricey intensive courses taught by professionals to free ones taught by volunteers. The one offered closest to my apartment is two hours long and meets three times per month. It’s not free, but super-cheap and is taught by volunteers who are almost all retirees.

Here’s how it works: You show up, wear a name tag around your neck, sit at one of the tables and wait for an instructor to be sent to you. After the first hour, the new students go up front and introduce themselves (name, country, occupation, nice to meet you, bow). Then lessons resume. Most students are from Vietnam and China (Speaking of which, last week none of the Chinese students attended. I wonder if they’re nervous to venture out because of Japanese attitudes against Chinese people because of the current the Wuhan virus crisis.) During the second hour of class, they serve cold green tea in little paper cups, and pass around a tin Donald Duck canister with a slot on the lid so we can pay our weekly fee.

December 8, 2019

While I was thrilled to find an inexpensive class that was only a 20-minute bike ride away, that soon gave way to frustration. The volunteers come from all walks of life, but not education. Simply being a native speaker does not automatically make you an effective language teacher. Also, many of them want to practice English, so you end up wasting a lot of time on getting-to-know-you small talk (there’s a separate post on that topic).

Worse still, they all assume that you’re starting from zero, so they begin by telling you basic things that are common knowledge even to people who’ve never set foot in Japan. But they know from the initial exchange that I’ve been living here for more than two years. Do they think I’ve been living in some English vacuum? Maybe if I lived in Tokyo, but certainly not in the mountain village where I was the only Westerner. Then they are utterly astonished when they realize that I can read and write hiragana and katakana and that I taught myself. They ask incredulously, “How?!!” [Because you cannot learn anything unless someone teaches you. Autodidacts are unicorns.] I tell them that I bought kindergarten level workbooks at the 100 yen shop and methodically practiced at home. “But Japanese is so difficult!” No, it’s not. [If a five-year-old can learn to read and write, why would it be difficult for me? I’d like to think that I’m at least as intelligent as a kindergartener. Japanese people think everything is difficult, especially for foreigners.]

February 2, 2020

The most irritating aspect of how the class is organized is that the instructors rotate, which I didn’t realize at first. When they gave me a different instructor on the second week, I wasn’t worried, because he wasn’t that great. Then the third week I got Takagi-san, an awesome teacher who explained things well, gave me a chance to practice new concepts and was funny, to boot. I reviewed my notes at home, wrote a page of sentences for her to check, and eagerly looked forward to my next lesson with her. The next week I even brought her raspberry jam-filled heart cookies from a Swedish store in Chiba. Imagine my chagrin when they sent someone else to my table. After about half an hour, I had to gently steer him to the textbook. It took that long because it’s not his fault that I hate small talk in general, and small talk with Japanese people, specifically. He’s just a nice octogenarian trying to stay active.

How are students expected to progress when the instructor is constantly changing? How are we to have any continuity and flow in the lessons? Then, again, I’m thinking like an educator. The people who organize and run the program are not teachers, and are, therefore, clueless about best practices. I could just sign up for a class in another city, but I don’t want to have to travel 40 minutes on train to get there. So I continue attending even when it rains and I have to take the bus, because I do learn a little something every week. And next week might be the day when Takagi-san rotates back to me.

February 16, 2020

Today I had a whole different experience. I went to class and sat down to wait for an instructor to be assigned to me. A man with messy salt and pepper hair soon came over. He read my name tag and said “Lindo-san, yoroshiku onegaishimasu (nice to meet you).” Then he held his name tag out for me to see “Suzuki-san?” I read the hiragana slowly. “Yes, Suzuki is one of the most common surnames in Japan.” He waited while I showed him where in the textbook I’d left off. “Connecticut?” He asked. “Hai,” I said. Then he dove into the lesson. No getting to know you preamble, no small talk! And when the lesson touched upon food, he didn’t ask me if I like Japanese food. At one point he began to say something about pork and stopped himself and chose a vegetable. He’d obviously been talking to one of my previous instructors. Ha!

He corrected and explained as I went along completing the drills. When we got to the end of the unit, there was a quiz. I had to make sentences using the grammatical concepts I’d just practiced. This was not a set drill, so I could create sentences using any vocabulary as long as it was in the featured grammatical framework. As I went through the quiz, Suzuki-san kept exclaiming “Sugoi!” and “So clever!” I guess he was astounded at the fact that I wasn’t just reproducing the sentences we had drilled, but making entirely new ones. It was a bit embarrassing when he’d clap after each of my new sentences. First, the room was quiet. Second, when you’re complimented you’re not supposed to accept it because it makes you look too proud, so I just smile and nod. I appreciate the praise, but don’t want to draw anyone else’s attention.

During the break, they passed out information and spent 15 minutes talking about the Wuhan virus and telling us about wearing masks, handwashing, alcohol wipes and sprays, and sneezing into tissue/handkerchief/one’s elbow. Then I went to the toilet and the woman in front of me (one of the instructors) came out of the stall, barely wet her fingers and walked out. Business as usual. So much for wasting time talking about handwashing. Of course, how effective is handwashing if soap is never used and the water is ice cold. Speaking of the Wuhan virus, all of the Chinese students were absent today again. I hope they’re okay.

Then we started the new unit which was about giving directions for things around town. For example, “Where is the post office? It’s near city hall,” and “How far do you live? I live 30 minutes away on foot/15 minutes away by bike.” Again, he was amazed at the variety of ways I answered his questions despite the mistakes. At one point he said, “Your brain so smart!” And just to make sure I didn’t get too puffed up, he added “Sometimes,” which cracked me up.

Learning with a video and book is boring. I enjoy being in a class interacting with other humans. Now I’m finally in a class and I’m soaking it all up, but my language level would have been so much higher, if I’d applied myself more to self-study while I was on the mountain. I was only conscientious enough to teach myself to read the two writing systems.

I was so happy riding home. Now I’ve had two instructors that I wouldn’t mind having again.

March 1, 2020

Went to Japanese class to be told that classes have been cancelled for the month of March. They will resume in April. Thanks a lot, Wuhan virus. I really enjoyed my classes and was learning so much! It was a sad, sad ride back home.

March 5, 2020