Rachel-A'lexandria Hawkins: Ohara Gakuen

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I wasn’t sure what to expect when I finalized my plan to volunteer at Ohara Gakuen. I was worried that with my limited Japanese, especially in using keigo, I may not be excepted. Nervous and confused, I went to meet with the English teachers and principal. I left Ohara that day feeling that I would be not only accepted, but also appreciated.

The first unexpected thing that I noticed was that all of the staff treated me as an adult. Being nineteen, I’m just barely considered independent in America, and certainly not in Japan. However, as I was held to a high standard of responsibility, and I found myself naturally rising in an attempt to meet expectations.

Though they were clearly pleased with the fact that I was there, they were rightfully worried about presenting me correctly to the students. Having many food allergies, I couldn’t always eat all the food that the kids ate, and I was surprised by how important it was to explain to the children that the only reason I wasn’t eating was because I could get hurt – not because I didn’t like the food. I was a bit surprised, because I didn’t think that the kids would have a difficult time understanding this, but, to the teachers, it seemed to be something important to overcome.

Another hardship for me personally, was switching between English and Japanese so frequently. I’ve had trouble with this in America as well, when talking with a Japanese friend and an American friend at the same time. I was asked to just use English with the students, and I did whenever I could, but there were many times when I had to use Japanese to explain something more complicated, and when I spoke to the teachers. Especially with the younger kids, it ended up being more of me asking about their English in Japanese.

The younger children speak in such small voices that it didn’t matter if I would understand their Japanese, because I couldn’t hear them at all. I didn’t want them to shy away from me when communication problems arose, so I attempted to answer them even when I didn’t hear what they said. This is tough to do in your mother tongue. Together with my lack of Japanese fluency, and having no context for the conversation I was having, the kids would often stare at me blankly, obviously having not understood a word I just said. Even so, when I did say a sentence or two, they were wildly surprised and delighted. One boy asked me a question, and I explained to him as best I could. When I was through, he stared at me with his mouth open. I started trying to rephrase what I said, because obviously my Japanese wasn’t up to par, but after a moment of silence he exclaimed, “Wow! She can speak Japanese!” He seemed to have no interest at all in the answer to the question. I wonder, if he was so surprised, did he expect to just not understand my answer, and go along his marry way after he’d asked the question? Either way, I appreciated his enthusiasm and his cuteness was astounding.

But just in case matters weren’t complicated enough, there was one more barrier to communication that I was surprised to find. In one case, I used the word “novel” while explaining my hobbies to the first graders. The student immediately responded, “What’s a novel?” Caught off guard, and trying to remember if that was indeed the Japanese word for novel, I didn’t respond at first, eventually stuttering out “N-novel?” in hopes that this time around I would say it correctly. The little girl ran over to the teacher and repeated the question. “A novel is a story,” the teacher answered, and the girl, who had since lost focus on the conversation we were having, trotted off to play with everyone. That was an experience I never thought I’d have.

The one downfall of it all, is that I don’t feel as though I’ve done all I can for Ohara. I would attempt to assist in lessons, teach pronunciation, and talk to the students, but I was unequipped to do the latter. I had never been to a Japanese middle school, and I certainly hadn’t studied the English education system for that region of Japan, so I was completely amiss as to how much English a student knew. Then there’s the individual difference between each student. I only ever had the chance to have a few sentenced conversation with any individual student, because the school was large and there was only one of me. And in that conversation, I couldn’t overcome the student’s shyness, gauge how much English they knew, and then make up a conversation that uses their level of English so that they could practice. In that way, I wish I had more time with them, I would have learned more, an I believe I maybe could have had more of an impact on them too.

Some of what I predicted was true; there were levels of formality and structure that I was foreign to, and needed to work hard to overcome. And a lot of what I feared turned out to be just fine. My confidence wavered throughout the program, as I battled with things I thought could be better, and melted as the kids became more and more animated about talking to me and learning about a foreign culture. But in the end, the hour commute to Oohara every week was not something that I dreaded, it was in fact something that looked forward to. On the long bus ride into the mountains, I could feel my eagerness and excitement swelling in me. Even if I had had a terrible experience on every other day, in every other class, it would all be worth it for what one first grader said as I entered the room. 「レイ先生　来てくれた！」”Ms. Rei came for us!” The feeling in my heart that that one little boy drew out, was worth everything in the world.

Thank you Oohara, it’s hard to say good-bye.

Nia McDonald: Manga Class

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For my CIP this semester, I’m in a manga class. So far I’ve attended about 5 sessions and I’m enjoying my experience for a couple of reasons. My CIP is scheduled for every first and third Saturday from 4pm to 7pm, but my teacher has added additional lessons. I’ve been going every week for the past 3 or 4 weeks. When I first went to my class, there were 2 girls stationed at 1 table and the other only table was empty, so I sat there. Because I don’t talk often, I actually don’t remember the names of the girls or the names of the 2 (sometimes 3) teachers that I work with. This may be different fro another person who is more talkative than myself. We’ve all been working on individual projects so my teacher rotates between us, occasionally checking up on out work and giving advice, suggestions, corrections, etc. Because of my short time time attending the class, and my skill level, my focus is practicing on drawing ‘real manga’ using multiple tools and techniques for experience’s purpose.

When I first entered the class I would say for sure that I was a little bit lonely because it was a quiet space and I’m used to the very social bustling art spaces that I’ve experienced in the US. This is not to say it can’t be this way, but coupled with my language barrier and our personalities, it ends up being mostly quiet besides our teachers talking amongst themselves. There is 1 girl that started coming and she is very energetic and fun to listen to. She and the teachers didn’t speak much to me (besides teaching) for the first 3 classes, but I think as they realized that I can communicate in an okay manner, they’ve begun to engage me more. They ask me questions about America, English, the Caribbean (I’m Caribbean American), etc. I really enjoy these conversations because I think they make everyone ore comfortable. Including myself. I think for class the experience is really what you make of it. You’ll be working on your own individualized project, so its good to pick something you actually want to focus on.

 

 

George Hill: Doshisha Hiking Club

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For my community involvement project I participated with the Doshisha Hiking Club. Although it is called a club, the Doshisha Hiking Club is actually a circle, which gave me insight into the difference between circles and clubs in Japan. Although I have had no experience with true clubs in Japan, from what I have been told they are quite serious and require mandatory attendance usually multiple times a week, and I imagine this is what the Doshisha Alpine Club is like, who occupy the room next to the Hiking Club’s in the Gakusei-kaikan (Student’s Hall). Because of this distinction, the Hiking Club has a very laid-back and relaxed feel. Attendance is not taken, activities are not necessarily mandatory, and exchange students are always welcomed, making the Hiking Club and excellent circle for KCJS students to join because it easily conforms with the unique KCJS schedule.

Although the Hiking Club was simple to join and very relaxed, there were many things about the club that I found surprising and very different from hiking and outdoor clubs in North America. First, when we didn’t go on hikes, we did training, which was jogging along the river. This was surprising as people don’t train for hikes in North America unless they are doing serious mountaineering. When I told other Japanese friends about training, they were similarly surprised. Therefore, training added a strange element of seriousness to a very relaxed and not necessarily serious club. A few members always opted out of these training sessions, but still met at the Gakusei-kaikan at the meeting time. This led me to realize that the training sessions served as a secondary activity to the weekly meeting—their main purpose was to bring the group together once a week. Rather than only meeting once a month to go hiking like a typical group at a North American university would, the Doshisha Hiking Club meets every week to strengthen the group dynamic in between hikes. This commitment to the group beyond participating in the commonly shared interest reflects the strong commitment to unity among groups prevalent in Japanese culture.

The second most surprising thing I observed was the friendliness we showed to other hikers on the trail. On our first hike up to the Daimonji near Ginkakuji, the trail was relatively crowded, but we never hesitated to give an energetic and lively “konnichiwa!” to every single person we passed. While saying hello to strangers on the trail is certainly not unique to Japan, the amount of people we said it to and the emotion we put into every greeting certainly was. This makes the trail in Japan a very friendly place, and there is a sense that everyone is engaged in the same struggle together.

Despite my limited Japanese skills, I was able to make some valuable insights into how one of my favourite activities is affected by a different culture. Joining the Hiking Club was very fun, laid-back, and often pleasantly unexpected. I wish I could be here between the spring and fall semesters when they do more serious hikes further away from Kyoto.

Naomi Cormier: クレフ

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立命館のアカペラサークルに参加してよかった、と思っています。色々な面白い経験があったし、学び事ももちろんありました。言語的に学んだ事と言えば、日常的の大学生の通り言葉とかよく聞きました。たとえば、KYは「空気が読めない人」という意味です。それにアカペラの曲を歌うときに、歌のソロイストが自由に歌うときの事を「フェークする」と言う言い方を初めて習いました。英語では　”to riff” といいます。

言語的の学びより文化的な学びのほうが多かったです。アメリカの音楽サークルの文化と比べたら、日本の学生たちは歌のクオリティに集中するより、メンバーの人と楽しんで話し合ったりする事の方を大切にしてました。大体日本の大学のサークルはタイトルは「テニス」とか「イベント」とか色々ありますけど、ほとんど学生たちの目標は遊んで楽しむことみたいです。あともう一つの文化的な学びは根気の事です。最初に参加し始めたときにはグループのメンバーと一緒に歌ったり話したりするのが難しかったんです。私はシャイではないので、すぐに友達になりたい気持ちがあったんですが、日本人は一般的に関係をふかくするのに時間が結構かかる事に築きました。でも毎週練習の時間にみんなと話してたら、だんだん友達っぽくなり、楽しい経験がいっぱいありました。
先週の練習では日本の冗談に当てられました。みんなで曲を歌い始めたら、みんながちゃんと一緒に歌わなかったので、一人の男性のメンバーが「ちょっとまって、もう一回。今回はみんな一緒に入ってきてね。絶対に入ってきてね。」といいました。このグループの中では、あまりそういう感じに注意する人がいなかったので、みんなでがんばらないとと思いました。ですから、彼が、「はい、１、２、３。。。」といって、みんなが一緒に歌うべきな時に私が一人だけ思いっきり歌いだしたんです。そしてみんなが笑って、「日本のジョークだよ〜」と言われました。すごく面白くて、私もつい爆笑してしまいました。グループのメンバーは「絶対に入ってきてね」といって、私だけを入るように、ほんとは「歌わないで」というメッセージだったが、入るべきだと思い込まされました。

一緒に練習したり笑ったりして、練習の間は真剣ではないが暖かい空気を作るのが大切だと感じました。

 

Helen Hope Rolfe: Ballet classes at K-Classic Ballet Studio

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I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting when I climbed the four flights of stairs to K-Classic Ballet Studio that first Friday night in September. Still, having taken ballet classes since the age of four at varying degrees of frequency, I seem to recall feeling pretty excited–but not at all nervous–about the prospect of taking ballet class in a foreign language for the first time.

Boy, was I in for a surprise. Once I’d explained myself to the petite, gently smiling woman whom I encountered just outside the door, I followed her inside–where my jaw promptly dropped. Plaques, award certificates, and trophies from Japan’s most prestigious ballet competitions lined the walls and covered several shelves of a bookcase, while about fifteen elementary-school-age girls diligently practiced their changements and glissades in the center of the room.

But it wasn’t until class actually started that the real surprises began. I would soon learn that the seemingly mild-mannered woman whom I had encountered at the door was in fact O-sensei, the owner/operator and head teacher at K-Classic Ballet Studio. Not only that, but she utterly transformed into a strict taskmaster the very moment she commenced the class with a simple and elegant upward twist of her right wrist.

Now, I studied ballet on the pre-professional track in the United States from about age eight to age fourteen–I thought I knew what a serious class atmosphere looks like. But the laser-like concentration of my fellow dancers here in Japan puts many of their American counterparts to shame. Throughout the class, no one speaks except for O-sensei. There are absolutely no private conversations held, except perhaps for a whispered confirmation or two that one is standing with the correct group in preparation to go across the floor. Despite this apparent lack of student-to-student communication, the hour and a half of practice always runs smoothly, with none of the interruptions (such as clearly incorrect execution of the given steps or trips to the bathroom between combinations) that can sometimes plague American ballet classes.

The students may not speak, but O-sensei certainly does–and there is no ambiguity about what she means. Words of praise are seldom heard, and corrections are given in the Japanese language’s direct style of speaking, rather than in the more polite distal style. For example, if a dancer is behind one count in a fast-paced jump combination, O-sensei is far more likely (based on my observations thus far) to simply shout “Osoi” instead of “Osoi desu yo.”

I fear that, up to this point, I may have portrayed K-Classic Ballet Studio as a somewhat stressful and uninviting environment. That could not be further from the truth! While the goal during each class is clearly to improve one’s ballet technique by whatever means necessary, outside of class my fellow dancers welcome me every week with “Ohayou gozaimasu” and broad smiles. Furthermore, O-sensei and T-sensei have both been remarkably patient and understanding in helping me work out the scheduling and payment aspects of my participation.

As the semester comes to a close, I feel incredibly grateful to everyone at K-Classic Ballet Studio for allowing this rather-out-of-shape ryuugakusei (study-abroad student) to invade their ballet classes on a regular basis. Thanks to their warm welcome, I’ve been privileged to see a whole new side of my favorite hobby, and have become more inspired than ever to work as hard as I can to do justice to ballet, the art form that always manages to transcend linguistic and cultural obstacles in surprising and beautiful ways.

Abby Hu: Niconico Tomato

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For my CIP, I volunteered at Niconico Tomato (Link), an organization focusing on creating events for hospitalized children at Kyoto University Hospital. I went to the volunteer office every Thursday to help with event preparation and occasionally participated in afternoon workshops to play with children. My tasks included making holiday cards, delivering items from the basement to the playroom, taking photos during the event and cleaning up after events ended.

What has caught my attention was how professional Niconico Tomato is. The professionalism of the organization can be seen from the following aspects: the attitude in which members approach their work, the variety of workshops and activities, and the attentions paid to those hospitalized kids. Members always take their tasks very seriously. For example, when the group was making Halloween cards, if any minor fault occurred, say the double-side tape stuck out a little bit, members would take trouble to fix it until the component they were in charge of looked perfect. Workshops range from science experiment session to balloon modeling session. Besides workshops, the organization also incorporates large-scale events such as bi-annual bazaar and Christmas café for fundraising purpose. The variety of events enables kids to explore their interests and to enjoy their ward life more cheerfully. These children definitely mean a lot to Niconico Tomato. The organization shows its care by updating the photo wall weekly with photos taken from events, displaying paintings and calligraphy pieces done by kids and designing a yearlong work plan in advance to ensure everything proceed smoothly. Although having participated different volunteer groups in China and in U.S., I have never seen such a high level of professionalism as Niconico Tomato has achieved.

How has such a high level of professionalism developed in Niconico Tomato? Based on my interview with the founder and my observations, the professionalism comes from members’ sincere love towards those children who are suffering from illness and the solidarity among the group. Starting from a small group comprised of only the founder and several of her friends, Niconico Tomato has attracted many more people who expressed interests in bringing happiness to hospitalized children and the group has become an 80-people team in the past 20 years. Among the 80 people, half of them have volunteered to design and lead workshops, making workshops available to children almost every weekday through out the year. In addition, these members deeply dedicate themselves out of pure love. For example, during the Halloween parade, a 50-year-old member wore a Godzilla costume for the entire afternoon and played with children in order to cheer them up. Later she told me that the costume was too warm for that day yet witnessing how children smiled when they saw her made her effort completely worthwhile. In addition to members’ good intentions, their solidarity helps achieve efficiency and complete wonderful works. The event preparation always splits into smaller tasks; each member voluntarily takes their parts and works very hard for the team purpose. The constant efforts from each member congregate and enable the group to operate in an efficient way. Overall I feel impressed by what Niconico has achieved and proud to be part of the team in the past four months.

Stephanie Contreras: Kyoto Amateur Dance Club

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I definitely planned on getting involved with a dance group while studying in Kyoto because I love dancing and I wanted to learn how a country like Japan practices an activity that can get very physical and personal. This is why I decided to join Kyoto University’s Amateur Dance Club. Every Saturday from 10am – 1:00pm, I took the Karasuma line and got off at Karasuma Oike station where I walked for a couple of minutes to the Kyoto Wings Center. Once I arrived I would head towards a small room where all the other ladies were changing into their practice clothes. One thing that surprised me was how comfortable they were changing in front of an outsider. They were not shy at all and immediately started asking me to call them by their first names and encouraged me to add –tyan. They were so kind and welcoming from the very beginning and I am so grateful to have been a part of their group.

One big difference during practice is that girls and boys practice away from each other. This is odd considering it is ballroom dance where it is essential for partners to move according to each others movements. In America, both women and men practice with each other from the very beginning. The only time they do not practice together is when learning techniques like proper posture and foot work, but when learning choreography you usually practice with each other. During practice, half of the room was used by the ladies to practice the choreography while the boys were on the other side practicing their own choreography. After everyone had memorized their choreography we began practicing together. In my opinion, this was very difficult. For example, if I made a mistake, my partner would not be able to help me because he does not know what I am suppose to be doing. Every time either one of us made a mistake, we had to ask our senpai where to place our feet when dancing with each other. It just seems to cause more trouble practicing separately.

Other than this, everything was so much fun. I learned several dances like the waltz, rumba, samba, and modern dance. I met new people, made new friends, and practiced casual speech. My CIP has definitely been one of my greatest experiences while studying here in Japan.

Guy Tada: Yosakoi and Kyoto Sightseeing

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Because I switched my CIP in the middle of the semester, I experienced two very different atmospheres and learned a lot about Japanese relationships, especially in a group setting of young adults. I originally joined Yosakoi dance circle in the hopes of bonding with peers over our love of dance. Every Thursday evening by the Kamogawa River, we would practice for three hours and learn a dance each week. Everyone was very friendly and polite to me at first, but after a couple weeks it struck me how distant everybody seemed to be relationship wise—everyone used nicknames to address each other, and even when I asked their real name they would tell me their nickname. Also, during water breaks, people would break up from their formation and divide into little cliques, usually formed by school year. It was hard for me especially as an outsider to break into these circles and bond with anyone. Their politeness only went so far, and thus, there were very awkward times where I would stand around while people talked to their cliques around me.

In addition, because the circle had over one hundred members (and they were not required to come to every practice) there was a lack of unity across the entire circle I felt. Even when learning dances, the veterans would split off to learn a new piece while the first years would learn last year’s piece. There didn’t seem to be much social interaction between first years and veterans, and when there was, they would speak in a very polite manner. The members would use the same polite form with me no matter their age (granted we weren’t friends by that point) but what they meant as politeness I took more personally as a way of distancing themselves from me. Even right after they would speak formally to me, they would turn to their friend and speak in a very colloquial speech pattern – emphasizing the social gap between us.

After a point, I felt like I had observed as much as I could from the experience and wanted to try something more intimate and accessible. Thus, I joined a Kyoto sightseeing circle! This circle was much smaller than Yosakoi and was certainly nice in that I got to explore more of Kyoto, including sites such as Kinkakuji and Kiyomizu Dera. The members were all very polite and friendly, often trying to explain information about the sites we were visiting while walking. Like Yosakoi members, they used formal speech when talking to me, but I was also a year above them, so that may have been a contributing factor. And even though there were only twenty members or less, social conversations seemed segregated by school year as well.

Although I didn’t go to this circle as much as Yosakoi since I switched later in the semester, I did take away one major lesson from both experiences. It seems to me that for Japanese students, a lot of their friends and close bonds come from the circles they’re in. I’ve seen various friend groups from Yosakoi hanging out in the shokudou or around campus. And two members of the sightseeing group are even dating right now! Overall, I’m appreciative of the experience I’ve gained and definitely have a more nuanced idea of Japanese relationships.

Yevgeniy Temchenko: Kendo Circle

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Upon entering the dojo, one must bow to the dojo itself; that is, not the teacher nor the student, but the entity and history that the dojo represents. This is what comes to be called the sacred in Western culture. Often times, however, this deification comes primarily from ignorance regarding the true nature of the respect offered. During the Fall of 2014, as part of the Kyoto Consortium for Japanese Studies curriculum, I participated in nearby Kendo Dojos including the Kyoto University Kendo Circle, Kyoto Budo Center Kendo Team, and a visit to Satosho Budo Center Team

Kyoto University Kendo Circle (http://www.geocities.jp/kendo_shishinkai/) meets on Wednesdays and Fridays, with a join practice at the Budo Center on Saturdays. The skill level varies in the team but does require at least a year’s worth of experience. The practice is led by Okaya sensei, a 6th Dan. In general, while around a dozen people practice, the club boasts over twenty active members. All of whom, myself excluded, are students of Kyoto University.

Practice usually consists of three segments: warm-up, basics practice, and free practice. By warm-up I mean a set of stretches and around 150 practice swings to warm up the body. Warm up typically lasts for about twenty minutes, at most. The majority of the practice is taken up by basics practice, which begins with simple one step technique and finishes with continuous multi step waza. Free practice is rather similar to a match, other than that score is not kept. Rather, free practice is intended as a review for the skills learnt on that day.

What appeared the most interesting was the deeply rooted culture of respect and etiquette. Kendo is said to be an art to grow as a person—through learning etiquette. Having identified myself as a senior, I was surprised that even those more skilled than me would speak in keigo and kenjougo. When addressing a group, the teacher and the club leader would also speak formally. Only in private conversation between friends would those of higher standing speak in simple form.

Due to time constraint, I would attend the Saturday practice at the Budo Center (http://www.kyoto-sports.or.jp/shisetsu/detail/budo.html). Other than age differences – Budo center practice has older and younger people – there was a minute difference in basic etiquette. For example: the seiza sitting position and entering the position remains the same across dojos. However, the Kyoto Martial Formatted: Indent: First line: 0.5″Arts Center Kendo Team would place the shinai (bamboo katana) on the right side rather than the left. Symbolically, a katana on the left symbolized being armed, where on the right the swordsman is disarmed. In Satosho, the classroom teaches that the bokuto (wooden katana for Kendo kata) and the iaito (unsharpened katana) are placed on the right, whereas the shinai remains on the left. Contrary to these nuances, however, the general responsibilities and duties remained the same regardless of the dojo.

Overall, it has been a pleasure being able to continue practicing the art of Kendo in Japan. Learning the importance of respect in kendo helped gain deeper understanding of the entire Japanese culture.

John Lyons: Miconos Swimming Circle

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 For my CIP, I participated in a Kyoto University swimming circle called Miconos (http://www.miconos.net/ ). This experience was great for me, and taught me about Japanese college social life. I met a lot of really nice people, had a blast swimming, and am happy to be able to continue participating in this club next semester.

Prior to coming to Japan, I had some presumptions on what Japanese sports circles would be like based on my own experiences studying abroad four years ago at Doshisha International High School, my playing Water Polo at the club level at Hamilton College, and from various TV shows and anime. I had believed that sports circles would be very strict, and that participating in practices and other events would be mandatory. This assumption stemmed essentially from my applying an even stricter hierarchical relationship, and expectation to participate to my surprising strict Water Polo club in America. But when I started participating in my circle, I quickly realized how wrong my assumptions had been. While there certainly is a stricter hierarchy relating to senpai-kouhai status, there is very little pressure to go to practice or other events. When I was first searching for a club to join, I found Miconos’ website which stated that swimming was to be done at one’s own pace, and that members were expected to participate in the after. After is the act of members of the club going out to dinner after practice. Despite the website’s claims, I found that even amongst the members who went to practice the number of members who participated in the after was less than those who don’t.

Additionally, I discovered the swim at one’s own pace part turned out to be a bit of an understatement. The club is much less focused on swimming than I had thought a swimming club to be. Although I did not expect everybody to be swimming for the full two hour practices, I was still surprised by the lack of swimming going on in the swimming circle. Most members would do a lap or two every now or then, but the majority of the time in the pool was spent chatting with each other. Most members were part of a swimming club at their High School, so they are definitely able to swim much more than they do, but instead most of them eventually spend a good amount of time in the pool’s Jacuzzi rather than swimming laps. In my college’s Water Polo team, we bond over overcoming arduous training regiments together, but in this Miconos that is not the case. I had assumed that the circle would be an incredible tight knit group that spends most of their free time with each other like a high school club. But Miconos did not reach the level of camaraderie that I was hoping for in a sports circle.

Although Miconos was not at all what I was expecting it to be, it is certainly not a bad experience. Because there is a larger focus on talking than swimming, I am able to better work on my Japanese by conversing with my fellow club members. Considering that most of our conversations pertain to past sporting events in High School, I believe that most of the members I converse with still love swimming. Yet, because they are no longer competing in meets, they are able to simply swim because they want to. Additionally through the club, they are able to meet people with similar interests, thus although the club does not have the athletic camaraderie that I love about sport teams, the circle appears to consist of several groups of friends, usually split by grade. Right now, I straddle an awkward position of foreign exchange student where I am friendly with most of the people in the circle, and their friend groups, but I am still an outsider to each one of the groups.

Overall, I am incredibly happy with the circle that I am participating in. It has taught me a great deal about Japanese college social and sports culture. It’s always a fun time swimming, talking and eating dinner with the members. Although I may not be completely satisfied with my current situation, I have a whole other semester to better get to know, and become better friends with my fellow club members.

I believe the most important point in picking a CIP is finding one that deals with something you have a lot of experience with, and are passionate about. Whether that be a certain sport, musical instrument or even a niche interest. Commonly shared experiences are some of the easiest way to make connections with people, and as foreigners, we really don’t have many with Japanese students when it comes to everyday life. But one shared experience you are bound to have in your CIP is an interest in whatever the subject of said CIP is. Therefore, you will have a lot more to bond over, and talk about if you are more invested in the topic which your CIP covers. This can come from connecting over long arduous practices routines you suffered through while in high school, songs you know how to play, and teaching others how to play them, or a show that you and those in your CIP have watched and enjoyed separately. It will definitely be awkward in the beginning, especially if you are the only foreigner in your CIP. But if you can reach out and bridge the gap between you and the members of your CIP through these shared experiences, I’m sure you will have a great time.