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The experiences of a father and son struggling to communicate without a shared tongue. |
| What is it, beyond language, that is tested in the open, strained, by the stresses, the pushes and pulls of love? |
| After visiting the small, mountain valley school of Yonegawa, the schools' coordinator drove me to Hanaoka, a school of 700 elementary school students in the middle of town. Only 15 minutes drive away from the lush, green setting of Yonegawa, Hanaoka's surroundings are mostly concrete with houses piled up on either side of the school grounds. The inside of the school is surprisingly rich and warm, the corridors decked out in real wood panels, the awards case packed with plaques, medals, trophies, and, again, paintings from children. This is a newer school than Yonegawa: the pictures of old school masters stretch back not so far; this time, there are no ancient pictures of dour men in military uniforms lining the walls of this office. The principal of Hanaoka is one of those likeable, portly men. He wears a track suit and smiles even when he looks serious. He reminded me of an football coach. During our whole discussion of classroom management and lesson content, he only jumped in twice to give an opinion about how loud the classes could get (there will be 35 students per class) so we will have lessons in a room on the far side of the school ground. The head English teacher of Hanaoka is a younger man, maybe 28, who looks very eager to try new techniques based on the latest educational theories. While I appreciate that approach in its own way, because it shows someone who hasn't given in and found a rut to relax in, it doesn't bode well for an English teacher. The kids, generally, just want to have fun and stare at the foreigner a bit. He, too, gave me a look that said he didn't quite trust me yet and is waiting to see how I will perform. The English-speaking teachers who do this job call themselves "English monkeys". I assume it is because our primary role is to perform and do what the head teacher tells us to do. I don't mind so much anymore. When I first came to Japan, I was very proud of my Master's degree in English Literature and my 4 years of university teaching experience, and of my publications and 1 year study of pedagogy. But I've realized that no one hear wants those things in an English teacher. They just want a native speaker who can smile, jump and conform to many of the stereotypes these children have of "outsiders". And right now, in my life as it is, I can do this job and make a little extra money a month and some breathing room for my family, or not take it and go through the wringer of poverty just a little longer until the wife graduates and we get out of the situation we are in. I have chosen to be a monkey. But here, in writing, I can remember what I am, what I have done, and what I am capable of doing. Hopefully I will be able to post more blog entries. Hopefully, too, the textbook company in Taiwan will hire me to write that textbook on Financial English for business students (still waiting for word back on my writing sample there). Hopefully, too, the stories will be published, giving me some sense of accomplishment and self-worth. Don't know. Just trying to keep my New Year's resolution: don't give up, not on writing, not on marriage, not on self. |
| Yesterday was the first day at my new, part-time job, teaching English at elementary schools in the neighboring area, two or three times a week. The money's not great, but the hours are good and, as one teacher put it, "it's not easy finding day jobs teaching English." At a little ceremony at the city hall, in a warm office with little statues and paintings displaying images of Japan, the education chairman, a squat, smiling, graying man, handed us little pieces of paper attesting to our positions as Assistant English Teachers. Newspaper reports took pictures. The chairman made a speech about the children in his area not being so good at English, so would we teachers be good enough to help them out in a fun way? Later, the reporters corralled me, the new teacher, and ask me a few questions: "Which country are you from? How will you teach the children?" "I'm from America, but I've lived here ten years. By teaching fun, the children will learn fun, and that will make it easy to remember," I said, towing the party line. No one wants to listen to (or even expects) AET's go on about pedagogy. During all these things, I couldn't help giggling on the inside: {i]Is this for real? We're just part-time teachers, and I'm pretty sure all the teachers you've had here have had no education or training in teaching children or even teaching ESL. Why are you treating us so importantly to our face but paying us so little? Who are you trying to fool? Yourselves? The coordinator then drove me to meet my new schools. I have four schools. Yesterday we visited three. Today we visit the last. "They are spread out," he warned me. I believed him. We live in the countryside, after all. "Three of the schools are very small. 10 students." I thought he meant 10 students per English lesson, but as we pulled into the parking lot of the first school, I realized he meant 10 students in the entire elementary school. Yonegawa Elementary School is, as an American might put it, out in the boondocks. In Japan, they say it is "in the mountains," and in a way Yonegawa really is. Nestled in a valley between two low mountain ranges carpeted in bamboo, cedar and cherry trees in full bloom, Yonegawa is a small, small farming and community. The school is beautiful. It's a modern building, but small, with grass-and-vine-covered stone walls bordering it on two sides, a large exercise ground and lots of equipment, a few stone statues lining the border, and a pond with koi swimming about. Inside, it feels old but in a good way. Pictures of former school masters line three walls of the principal's office, some of them dating back to the 1800's. Lots of plaques, awards, and a few colorful paintings, obviously by students. With the coordinator's assistance, the teachers talked to me about their ideas for the schedule and lessons. The teacher I'll be working with at Yonegawa is a man, just a couple years older than me. He must be in charge of athletics as well, because he was wearing a black tracksuit. Like most teachers in Japan, he looks tired and a bit overworked. I don't think he trusts me yet. Just something about the look in his eyes. He showed us where the English lessons will take place: in the music room. Here, again, I am struck by the dichotomies Japan presents: in this modern building, the corridors, lined as they are with old paintings and pictures of the school over the years, feel ancient to my American senses, but inside the music room waits a brand-new electronic board. I've seen these on TV. The new Japanese government has made a lot about their efforts to improve the resources of schools, and these were the first big step. Electronic boards are touch screen, multimedia computers the size of one section of blackboard. The teacher showed us how it worked with the new English textbooks. All of us were impressed. None of us had seen one working before. Can't wait to get my hands on it. "Do you have any questions?" they asked me. "Yes. How many students in the class?" "There will be two lessons. About two hours total, with preparation and planning time. 3 students." "3 students each lesson?" "Yes. But the same 3 students. By the way, the last teacher used to do this, so we want to ask you: would you like to each lunch here with the students?" I found the question cute, and answered almost immediately: "Yes. But first I have to check my schedule." The principal, a woman in her early fifties, smiled. "The children would love it. It's 220 yen per meal. Is that a problem?" "No problem. Just have to check my schedule first to make sure I have enough time. I would be happy to, though." Walking out of the school, I took deep breaths of the clear mountain air. It was so quite up there. The kids weren't at the school yet--still on spring vacation. Couldn't even hear any cars. The air had that rich smell of leaves and new flowers. I think I will like this school. |
| AP Newswire 29 March 2010/03/29 The U.S. government is not happy about the results of recent Iraqi elections. “How many of our boys died to bring them freedom, and they pay us back this way?” said an enraged Secretary of Defense. “We brought them democracy, and they make a mockery of it by voting in the last guy we wanted in office: some secular religious wildcard.” Former President George W. Bush took time from his work as leader of a Born Again Christian movement in Texas to comment on the election: “Well, of course we have to take this into consideration. The bad guys are still out there. We’ve got to stay vigilant.” Many politicians are upset. “What’s the point of sending doctors and medicine if they’re just going to spit in our face?” The demand for medical personnel in Iraq rose in recent years. Though the link has yet to be proven conclusively, the number of cancer patients in Iraq soared as the U.S. military increased its use of depleted uranium shells after its invasion in March 2003. The “unavoidable” number of victims of “collateral damage,” of course, increased as the military “stepped up” its operations to “stamp out” “insurgents”. Worsening the extent of the shortage, increasing numbers of trained Iraqi medical personnel have fled the increasing violence. “We keep sacrificing, and they keep refusing to pick up the ball,” said one Democratic senator who wished to remain anonymous. Reminded that “secular” means “of or pertaining to worldly things or to things that are not regarded as religious, spiritual, or sacred” (Dictionary.com), Secretary of Destruction defended his earlier statement: “I meant what I said. Someone who doesn’t allow religious concerns to influence their choices, and the choices of their people, is operating blind, without a rudder. Such people cannot be trusted.” With the fate of the U.S. occupation hanging in the balance, most commentators refuse to elaborate upon any possible parallels between U.S. “actions” in Iraq and similar “steps” taken in Korea, Vietnam, Costa Rica, or Nicaragua. The Secretary of Destruction continued: “Will the boys come home soon? That depends on what the Iraqi people choose to do with their freedom. Will they squander it by choosing a leader not in line with our mutual best interests, or will they choose wisely and end the violence? The choice is theirs.” |
| OK. Today is national holiday. Wife asked me for ideas of what we should do as a family. I discarded the suggestions of going ice skating (expensive) and kids movie (not interesting for wife), and chose a family bike ride to a nice place for lunch. The weather is clear and warm. I am hoping everything goes well. We need a good day together. |
| To answer anyone's question as to why I do not take the offer of full-time employment from my current employer, let me details the reasons: 1) It's not really full time. It's only 34 hours a week. This allows them to not pay me health insurance or social insurance. 2) The schedule is very bad. If I take their schedule, I have to stop teaching my much more lucrative private students. And it will seriously interfere with my family's schedule, especially considering my wife will be returning to university in two or three weeks. 3) There are some other jobs available for much higher hourly pay--but they, too, might have terrible schedules. I have to check into these first. 4) I only teach at my current job about 16 lessons a week but feel I am going insane (yet again). I could survive 34 lessons a week, but am not sure the wage is worth my continued mental deterioration. |
| Yesterday, I confirmed that the city job I'd been hoping for was given to a cheaper, temporary worker. Depressing, frustrating, and disappointing. Even the foreigners who already work there didn't realize such practices are prohibited by Japanese labor law--but they don't care. They've got their job. And the new temporary worker won't care: they'll be some young kid, single, with no kids, and therefore no real desire for health insurance or job security. The government doesn't care: they'll get workers cheaper than they could otherwise, so they turn a blind eye. I am sick of it. This leaves me a couple of options: take the offer of "full time" employment by my current employer, at a very cheap wage, or take a full-time position at another school which has a terrible reputation. I am sick of it. But I do not leave. We have one more year of university to finish, and then we can move on, change our lives, see if that will help. I will not give up on my marriage, not when I've been asked with an open heart to stay. It is a time for patience. |
| Son sleeps. 5:22 a.m. I couldn't sleep soundly, but couldn't get up to write. Too many worries. The job of teaching for the city--teaching English at the local public elementary schools--may have fallen through. One of the teachers called me last night to let me know that the school board might be hiring a new teacher through a placement agency, and that I should apply to that agency as soon as possible. Well, I looked at the job board which he recommended, and there was no job advertised for this area. To be on the safe side, I emailed the local branch of the agency and let them know I was interested. Today, I will call the teacher and find out more, if possible. It is, after all, only a rumor. The school board might actually obey the law and hire a teacher. You see, I'm not upset that I might have to jump through one more hoop to get a job. I'm upset (furious, actually) at the growing trend of school boards in Japan to hire their Assistant Language Teachers ("English monkeys") through job placement agencies. I understand their reasons for doing so: it's cheaper. By hiring from a temp agency, they don't have to pay the full 280,000 yen-a-month salary (that's about $3,000USD) or health and social insurance. Temp workers get paid 250,000 yen a month (if they're lucky) and no insurance. Also, temp workers have to work at the school--as dictated by their company's contract--until 4 or 5 p.m., whereas teachers working for the school board can leave at 3 p.m. That's why I wanted the job--the good salary and hours. I could finish early enough so that my son could bring my son home every day. I could have dinner with my family more than twice a week. I wouldn't have to work on the weekends (unless I wanted). And I could keep my business running. We would have a steady income and some security. Now, the school board has decided to go with the trend and, not incidentally, go against the law which requires school boards to directly hire their ALTs. That's what pisses me off more than anything. Japanese laws dictate that the hiring of ALTs through temporary agencies is not lawful because of some serious abuses of such teachers in the past. Yet the government doesn't do anything about it. I suspect there are two reasons for this selective blindness: 1) it saves money, 2) it discourages foreigners from settling in Japan. If you can't get a good, steady job, one with benefits, insurance, and a possibility at career training or advancement, you are not likely going to stay here. The government has been told over and over again that school boards are hiring temporary workers to fill these jobs, and in 2005 the government issued a nation-wide warning to school boards to stop this practice. The warning was not heeded. Indeed, the practice has increased. The government understands the reasons against hiring temporary workers, but has no will to stop the practice. I am sick of it. And there are no more jobs like that in Japan for an English teacher. Almost all the jobs now are low-paying, no benefit, 1-year contract mercenary businesses mostly focused on "teaching" kids (because that's where the money is). I am sick of it. I am sick of it. And there's nothing I can do. I can't organize a protest of teachers, because the few teachers here all hope for a chance at such a temporary agency job or just don't see the problem: they are young kids, here for a year or two, and then back on the plane to find a real job in their home country. And if I take the job, I'm going to feel, every day, that I am contributing to a system I know is bad. I will become miserable (again), and I am tired of feeling miserable. No chance at being proud of what I do. No chance of being able to look at my own face in the mirror. I am sick of all of this. Sick of being here. Sick of all the SITUATIONS I am in. Sick of feeling old and tired (38 years old and already I feel hopeless and drained). Writing is the only thing left I have a drive to do, and there's no money in that. No way to support a family. And son sleeps. Soon, he wakes. Too soon. |
| Son sleeps. 6 a.m. Have to wake him soon, though. Today is Friday. Not a bad day, though busy. Once I get him out the door to school, I'll have a few hours alone. I have to send my passport for renewal today, plush finish my taxes. Next week I'll start applying for permanent residency in Japan. Also need to produce a lot of writing for money: I've almost paid off my (canceled) credit card; once it's gone, I'll only have the huge debt of my student loans to fret over--and, hey, everybody has that, right? Tonight, I will take son to his gymnastics club. While he's there, I will teach an English lesson. Money is so bad right now, it's not even funny. Next Monday, on the 22nd or thereabouts, I should find out if I've gotten a job teaching for the city government. I really, really need that job. I don't want it, but who cares about that anymore? I think I have to stop creative writing for a while, until I get all these other things in order. Prioritize. Wake son up and try to make sure he's got a good start to the day. That's the best way to start my day. |
| A week ago, I received a letter from my mother in America, telling me that I had forgotten my father's 70th birthday, and that they are having a bad time financially. "A bad time financially" means a lot: my mother works part-time, my father doesn't work at all. Mom has 8 months until she can draw social security. They are (what's the phrase?) dirt poor. Last night, wife ordered to leave the apartment and prepare for divorce. Just two days ago she was saying how much she loved me and how much she appreciated me. I made a mistake yesterday about a bus schedule. I didn't apologize properly to her. I defended myself, and when things got heated and she kept criticizing me about making a mistake "even a ten-year-old wouldn't make," I lost my temper and started shouting. I am so tired and so stressed out. This morning, I call my parents to apologize and let them know why I hadn't called. Mom said she'd been laid off since writing that letter. They took 100 dollars out of my Stateside bank account to buy food and gas. They feel guilty and want to pay me back as soon as possible. I told them, please don't worry about it. Take care of what you need to take care of first. In two weeks I will learn, hopefully, if I have gotten a teaching job with the local school board here in Japan. The pay is great, and the hours reasonable enough to allow me time to teach in my off-hours and make even more money. There is an apartment for rent just down the street. It's a shack. $380 a month. If I get the apartment, I can still be with my son and help my wife finish university; then, they will have a better life. Wife wants to quit university, just to get away from me. She has only two semesters left. I don't want her to quit. If she quits, we'll have wasted this whole last year of stress and financial hardship. If I move in with my parents in America, I can help them, but I will be living in a redneck town in Idaho, my hatred of which you can hardly underestimate. If I move in with them, it is possible I won't see my son again until he finishes high school. I have no idea what I would do for work in Idaho. It is tax time in Japan. My passport is expiring in a few months; so is my work visa. Without a full-time job, I will have to get a married-spouse visa in order to stay and continue working. If I get a divorce, I can't get a married-spouse visa. I could try for a permanent resident visa, but those are really hard to get, and the chances of getting them slim. I have no money to get an apartment of my own. Last night, when I went out for a walk, my son called me on the phone, crying, asking me to come back home. And, still, I have to go to work today and smile at people whose timidity, banality, and tedious conversations about nothing threaten to drive me over the edge. But if I don't smile, they get more nervous, and my job is on the line. My friend in America says it's time to cut the cord of matrimony and try to be happy. Others have said the same thing. I am listening--I AM listening--but it seems not so easy as that. To look at me right now, as I write this, you would see someone calm and composed, shaven and clean, someone who has completed all their chores for the day and only has a few articles to write left on their list. Tonight, I will teach four children English, and I will pretend to be happy; no one there will be able to guess otherwise. My son: if you ever learn to read this, please understand and forgive me for whatever choices I will soon have to make. |
| I woke the other morning from a disturbing dream. It's so chock-full of symbolism, it is surreal, meaningful and indeterminate. I've told a couple of people about the dream. They laughed, edged away, and said maybe I should seek a psychologist. Honestly, I don't think it's that weird, but you can tell me what you think. I am waiting in line at a drug store in Japan. There are many people waiting in line with me. Two of them, a father and his infant son, are sitting on a blue plastic courtesy bench behind me. The son is sitting on his father's knee. The father has his shoes and socks off. His bare feet are stuck into the side of a huge fish laying on the floor. The bloody red guts squish around his feet as he wiggles his toes in comfortable pleasure. I wonder how cold his toes must be: this fish has been dead a long time and was probably kept in cold storage for just such an ocassion. A kind, old saleslady removes a much smaller, living fish from a plastic-wrapped Styrofoam package filled with water, and places it on the floor in front of the infant. The infant leans forward in wonder. The fish has deeply expressive eyes, like those of a human. Gasping for breath, it finds none. I can read it in its eyes as it resigns itself to the inevitability of death, and its eyes fix on the infant. The child watches--neither gleeful nor upset--as the fish gasps a few more times and then goes still. Its eyes unfocus and turn gray. It was then that I woke, disturbed out of sleep. |
| Former coworkers once said I should be allowed to read the news because it always put me in a bad mood. Here's an example of why: The Japanese Sumo Association announced the other day that naturalized Japanese sumo wrestlers will no longer be counted as Japanese, and that sumo "stables" (houses) will be limited one foreign wrestler--all in the name of preventing the sumo from being "overrun" by foreign wrestlers. Wife couldn't understand why this angered me so much. "I don't care about sumo," she said. I had to explain that racial discrimination is against the Japanese constitution BUT there are no laws preventing racial discrimination in Japan. There should be. By this logic, son is not Japanese, and all business and associations, from public baths to fire departments to government can (and do already) discriminate against non-Japanese. If Japan allows the sumo world to institute such a policy, they are saying it's okay to discriminate. "Yes," she said, "but we have age discrimination, too." My wife is a brilliant person, but her attitudes, liberal though they may be in comparison to other Japanese, are fairly atypical on issues of race in Japan. It's the "can't be helped" mentality that drives me mad. It's the "doesn't affect me" mentality that makes my fists itch. So, let's let the Major League Baseball in America limit teams to only one foreign player, and revoke all naturalized citizen's citizenship. Hey, in America, we gotta protect our own. Baseball is our national sport; Japan, you can have your big, sweaty, diaper wearing dips***s. No. That's just the frustration talking. |
| This is a response I wrote to my aunt, who is a teacher n the States. She had said she felt other countries didn't test their students as hard as America currently does. I thought I would offer her a little insight into the situation in Japan. Here you are: _____________________________________________ I've heard stories about the testing that has been going on since Bush's vaunted "No Child Left Behind Policy" was implemented; however, I have been out of the country for 10 years (!), and so am not clear on the details. As such, I can only comment on what I saw before I left, and what I have seen in Japan. First, America: I taught English composition to entering Freshman at two universities in different parts of America (Idaho and Illinois). The similarities between the students were striking and depressing: by rough estimate, I would say that a full quarter of them had never read a book cover to cover, and almost all of them thought that writing the same way they spoke was okay. None of them knew how to study (how to manage time, how to use a variety of tools, how to focus) and complained if they felt things were too difficult. I was the same way in high school. All of them fully expected to walk out of my class with at least a "C," no matter how little effort they put in. In America, students take an ACT or an SAT to get into university, but the test score is not the most important thing. In Japan, students take a specific university's entrance exam (there is a national one, but not all universities recognize it), and students begin studying for that exam in their second year of high school (there's only three years of high school in Japan, so let's call them Juniors). Any free time students may have is devoted to studying for this or the other, regular examinations. Schools forbid students to have part-time jobs, just to ensure they study. Students go to cram schools, often returning home at 10 p.m., when they might study more (it is pretty common for students in Japan to stay up until 1 a.m. to study). Private tutors may also enter into the mix, plus club and family commitments. Even after all of this, the students take the exam fully expecting NOT TO PASS. They may hope to pass, but Japanese culture is heavy on pessimism, and they discourage people from expecting success--you have to work for it, whatever the cost. Of course, students don't have to take the university entrance exams--they can be road workers, construction workers, or hostesses. There are few job opportunities in Japan for unskilled labor. Now, consider that, to get into the most prestigious universities, it is often necessary to come from the "right" high school, one that is "recognized" for the high academic achievements of its students. To get into that high school, it is necessary to take an entrance exam during junior high school, and to study your ass off. Getting into that high school may also require having graduated from the "right" junior high school, grade school, and kindergarten, all with their own entrance exams. It sounds like Hell, and it is. Everyone knows this, but they throw up their hands and say "It can't be helped." There are few jobs, and the really good ones--the kind you can support a family on and have a modicum of security--require degrees from prestigious universities. So, learning how to study starts in the first grade. My son is in the first grade, and I was shocked, scared, appalled, what-have-you, by the amount of studying he is expected to do, and by how much the parents are expect to contribute to that studying. Every day after school, we do speed drills on four different sets of math cards (addition and subtraction). Every day, he recites a famous poem BY HEART (I am always amazed). Every day he reads two stories out loud, writes a short essay about his day, corrects his homework from school, and, perhaps, plays. Play is optional--very optional. I do my best to ensure we have some play time together, but it's really difficult, because the parents are also working hard just to make ends meet. I talked to Vicki about this issue a few years ago, and we agreed: American parents don't work with the children enough on homework and studying. Something like 40% of family time in Japan is devoted to childrens' studies, while 60% of the family's financial resources go towards study aids, cram schools and private teachers. And it's even more competitive in Korea. Now I'm hearing rumors to the same effect in China. In America, we really look down on intellectual pursuits. We really do. Who was the most popular character on Gilligan's Island? The Professor? No. It was Gilligan, the simple ignoramus with the heart of gold. And it's like that throughout our whole culture. We don't trust intellectual's (sometimes for justifiable reasons), and we glorify a lack of learning as somehow bringing us closer to some true human strength. Look at our celebrities (scratch that: don't look at our celebrities. They make my head hurt). Obama's criticizing America schools is justified in some ways, but it's really just scapegoating, in my opinion. We should be blaming the parents (the tired, overworked, underpaid, unsupported parents strapped with heavy taxes and crushing mortgages). From the outside looking back in, I see no other way to turn it around--if American's really want to compete on the world stage in science and math. That's the key right there: What do we want our students to be good at? Right now, Japanese parents envy the fact that in America, students are taught (supposedly) critical thinking skills and independence of thought, and to some extent, they are right to be envious. Students in Japan are taught to memorize facts and do what everyone around them does--it's really hard to think that is a positive thing in this day and age. Of course, there are few job opportunities for innovative thinkers these days--and most of those don't offer security. That's another difference between Japan and America: Japanese value security above all other concerns; Americans often sneer at it. Different cultures; different values. Universities in America are famous the world over for the quality of their humanities and science programs; however, those same science departments prefer to accept students from abroad because America students are poor at maths and sciences, and frankly lack the discipline and study skills to catch up. |
| I said in my last entry, "At least I have a job." It's a fine sentiment, and I don't want to insult anyone who shares it, but the other side of my mind is thinking: that's what workers have said throughout the generations as employers have increasingly squeezed more and more work out of people for less and less wages. How long have wages been stagnant in America? 20 years by the last reports. Thank God I've been poor all my life and haven't had to suffer a loss of status or income level. If you compare average wages to inflation , you see that wages have barely managed to keep up with inflation--while companies got richer, people got squeezed harder and harder as the cost of living increased (and especially as those same companies did their best to convince everyone that they'd be happier if only they had more pork soda (thank you Primus)). "Oh, but I'm okay, because I have a job while others do not." Slave mentality. Employers know this is how we feel now, and they will use this recession/depression to squeeze even harder ("Hey, if you don't like the conditions, you don't have to work here"). The myth that employers and employees enter into a work contract on equal footing is just that: a myth, one that has supported corporate greed for so long. It was this way during the Great Depression, it was this way in the 70's, and following the recession of the 80's, employers turned more vicious, denying workers as much as possible. Do you think things will improve after this recession? Do employers have any sense of obligation or duty to their workers (and community) to make sure employees have a sense of security and well-being? If you do, then I applaud your imagination, because it's better than mine. This is the other side of my mind speaking. The other one, the one that sees his marriage falling apart and hasn't been able to pay his bills in years, is ready to fall on his knees to beg for a "decent" job. I want to be more than a resource. I want to feel important. I want to understand that my life and work is worthwhile. I want to retire thinking I've accomplished something. I do not want to beg for money. I do not want to feel grateful to a greedy person. I do not want to be a wage slave. Someone please reign in the greed, reign in the myth of open markets. Reign in the tired sense that as long as we have can suck at the illusion of opportunity, it's okay for the rich to grab more and more. Someone please give me a job where I don't look at myself in the mirror and wonder what a piece of s*** I've become. |
| Sitting at work today, trying to keep down the blood pressure caused by the desperate understanding that I hate what I am doing, but return how to read the news about the condition of employment in America, and feel relieved (those no less depressed) to at least have a job. Son is watching Doraemon while we wait to eat dinner. He is extremely proud of himself: after ony two trips to the skating rink, he is able to ice skate. Wife says he has no fear. I think that is so cool. I have finished all my work for the week. Tomorrow, we meet a tax adviser to help us with our tax filing. I just feel drained, but things are not so bad. They could be worse. Not sure if that is healthy thinking or not, but I don't care right now. I have so many writing projects to get through in the next week, plus everything else at home to worry about. Keeping dreams quiet and to myself. In the next two hours we will finish homework, prepare school supplies and school bag, eat dinner, take a bath, possibly play, maybe watch a little bit of a movie, and try to have family time. Sunday nights are the busiest night, yet I am finding time to sit here and type this..... better go. |
| Been so buried in family dramas, depression, overwork, underpay, language difficulties, all the while striving to dig myself out of this mess AND wondering if I should just pack it in and call it quits, I haven't managed to keep up this blog. But I have managed to keep writing, and that is a good thing. Perhaps things will calm down here over the next few weeks; don't know. Been here before, and I'm not getting my hopes up. Son is good--so good--and understanding about things. Makes me feel so depressed, because I know he sees and understands far more than I'd like him to. He's a good kid; got a great, big heart. |
| So, here's the scene last night: 8:30 pm, and I am sitting on the floor, an unfinished piece of origami in my hand. It would've been a fish, but son wanted to move on to something else in the book because the fish was too difficult for him. So, I took my half-finished fish and sat behind son. A Brahms lullaby played in the background. I turn the green, folded piece of paper over and over in my hand, noting the contrast with the weave of the beige bamboo tatami below, and trying to imagine how some ancient origami master would've seen a fish in this piece of paper. Son is busy at the table next to me, working on an origami flower; he loves origami recently, and will choose it over TV most of the time. Don't know how long this will last. Don't know how long this peace will last. It is strangely soothing, folding pieces of paper, transforming a flat, surface into a fish or a flower. |
| ..but I am terrible. Things are strained. I have no energy, and so much to do. He is brave, and he trusts me. I feel like crying, unable to tell him what I am feeling, wanting him to understand what is going on. Even if we had the same language, this would not be possible. I smile and tell him I love him while a storm rages around us...I am sorry I cannot be more clear--sorry to you, and sorry to him. |
| There really has been now way of keeping up this blog regularly. That may be a good thing, since I intended this blog to be a record of my struggles communicating with son. Things have been quiet recently, with few flare ups. The only notable problem occurred yesterday during the school's open house. I went to watch son in class and during a jump rope competition. Everything went well (though I did see just how bad he could be during class, not paying attention to the teacher at all!), but after the jump rope competition finished, and all the children lined up to leave the gym, I noticed he was looking for something on the ground. I saw a pencil in the middle of the gym floor, picked it up and brought it to him. He said, no! I've lost an eraser. He was looking panicky. I looked around some more, but there was no eraser anywhere. All the children were leaving to return to their class. One other student was staying behind with son, who was now crying a little. "I can't find any eraser," I said, handing him the rest of his stuff. "You'd better go to the class. I will keep looking." "No!" he said, and smacked the stuff out of my hands. He had tears running down his face by this time. He then started speaking quickly, and I couldn't understand. All the mothers were watching. I wanted to shout at him, but instead turned and walked away. Some mother came up to talk to him. When I turned around, they were leaving. He gave me several black looks in the next twenty minutes back at the classroom, but seemed to have forgiven me before the hour was over. I am hoping things have calmed down. If they continue in this way, I will likely halt this blog and move on start up one with a different topic. Bit of a conundrum: want to continue the blog, but want the problems to be over. Perhaps I am being too optimistic, anyway. |
| "Bolteria Charged with Treason" AP, Washington, February 14, 2010 Prosecutors charged American geneticist Jhonas Bolteria with High Treason in Washington, D.C. today, concluding the first step in proceedings expected to find the once-respected scientist guilty of engineering and releasing the EM2010 virus. When convicted, he will face execution by lethal injection. Scientists identified the virus nine days ago. After frantic examinations of over fifty blood samples from all over the world, the world’s first engineered virus, EM2010, was identified. Scientists are scrambling to produce an antibody. Only eleven days have passed since health officials across the planet first reported an explosion in the number of patients suffering from sleep deprivation and intense depression resulting from disturbingly similar nightmares. As it turned out, these nightmares were triggered by news reports of any bombings or missile strikes that resulted in “collateral damage” (military phrasing for civilian casualties). Without exception, the infected dreamt of frantically digging barehanded through bomb blasted rubble for the bloodied remains of their missing children—even if the dreamers had no children in real life. According to an ongoing investigation, Bolteria and an as-yet unknown number of collaborators released the airborne virus at major airports throughout the world. From these airports, the virus quickly spread to 20% of the world’s population. Researchers predict the rate of infection to reach 50% before the end of the month. The sufferings of the infected are not limited to a lack of restful sleep. During daylight hours, many sufferers obsess over images from these dreams, mourning the loss of children they’ve never known; some of the infected collapse in the middle of the street to weep in inconsolable misery. The damage to the world economy has been grave. Economic production across the planet has fallen 15%, proving a fatal blow to the nascent and fragile recovery from the economic downturn of 2008. In a coordinated effort to protect citizens from the effects of EM2010, governments have agreed on a blanket ban of any reports of bombing or missile strikes. Unfortunately, this ban has been thwarted by the outlaw broadcasts of pirate radio and TV stations, not to mention the Internet-based reporting of continued military actions. Early attempts to isolate political leaders from EM2010 in climate-controlled rooms failed, with the consequence that most world leaders have been rendered incapable of making key military decisions. Decision-making authority has been slow to pass down the chain of command to uninfected leaders; fortunately, the same process has been observed in military structures throughout the world, sending both freedom-fighter and terrorist organizations into disarray. Jhonas Bolteria’s trial is set to begin early next week. Speaking on condition of anonymity, one Defense Department aide stated, “Every effort will be made—no expense will be spared—to make this criminal pay for this heinous act of terrorism. The damage Bolteria has done to our nation and world is incalculable. Our justice will be swift and decisive. The guilty will pay.” |
| Breakfast did not go well. Bad start to the day. I was feeling guilty because yesterday I only saw son for maybe an hour and a half; work finished late, and I got home after he'd gone to sleep. So, stupidly, I decided to be nice and let him watch his favorite program during breakfast. He ate slow--really slow. And when, after much urging on my part, he just couldn't seem to muster the speed, I turned off the TV. That started the fight and the shouting. Same stuff as before, and I felt really stressed because i couldn't understand what he was going on about. When he stood over me and was shouting, I decided that was enough. I spanked him once. Much crying ensued. I told him he would have to finish the breakfast on his own and then go to school by himself, because he was going to be late and no one was going to wait for him. He refused. He just sat there. When I left the room to wash dishes, he got dressed and then lay down. I came back, and saw that he'd only half dressed. I got angry, and finished dressing him. As I was doing this, one of the neighbors came by. "Is Leon ready? Everyone is waiting (in the cold, you insensitive foreign bastard)." "I am sorry. We are late." "You must call next time." "I am sorry." Back to son, and more tears. "I hate you. I'm not coming back," he said. "You think I'm stupid!" "No I don't. I think you are selfish. Everyone says stupid things--me, your mother, your grandparents, everyone. That doesn't mean they are stupid. You are not stupid. But you have to listen to papa, and you have to eat your breakfast. I was stupid to show you TV. No more TV." I walked him to school. We walked hand-in-hand, in silence. At the school gate, knelt down in front of him. "I love you. I will pick you up tonight. I am sorry." He nodded. He knows the drill. We are so busy with work and school that I will take him to his grandparents' after after-school daycare to wait until I finish work at 7:30pm. I hate this. If I am not the world's worst father, then I must be in the running. I hate this life. Unfortunately, now there's a glimmer of hope. A friend clued me into a decent job opening, something steady with good pay. I've spent the morning trying to get my Japanese resume together, but wife and I haven't even had a chance to discuss the scheduling. I am tired of being poor. I want to give my family some security. I want this job, even if it means giving up my business, I think. I am tired of struggling. And I want to understand son's Japanese, to make life easier, but I want everyone here to stop thinking badly of our family because he doesn't, "inexplicably," speak English. If I get this job, maybe I'll have the time and opportunity to improve my Japanese. A glimmer of hope after all these years of gray waiting. And it's not even a good job, really. It's not what I want to do. But it's better than nothing. I'm tired of feeling like less than nothing. Very tired of feeling like a bad parent. Tired of fighting with son. |
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