投稿者「KCJS23」のアーカイブ

Meg Beneville: Niko-Toma Volunteer Program

投稿日時: 投稿者:

Meg Beneville:
Niko-Toma Volunteer Program at Kyoto University Hospital

For my Community Involvement Project, I’ve been volunteering once a week at Kyoto University Hospital through a program called “Niko-Toma”. “Niko-Toma” is a wonderful organization that aims that brighten the lives of children in the hospital, most of whom have serious illnesses and spend long periods of time there.
Niko-Toma plans many fun events for the children, such as holiday parties. My volunteer duties have been extremely varied so far. Many times I help out in the office with the other volunteers, sorting through supplies for future events, folding newsletters or making ornately decorated cards. The other volunteers are most middle-aged Japanese women, who are very warm and welcoming, and chat with me in Japanese while we work. It’s great language practice, and very satisfying to feel like I’ve become a part of the group.
Aside from helping out in the office, I’ve also had some great opportunities to interact with the kids. The Halloween party was absolutely adorable- so many cute kids in costumes, and many parents who were delighted to have such a great photo op. One of the older patients there was a 17 year old girl who I had a fun time talking to. We took a picture together on her phone and exchanged email addresses so that she could send it to me, and we’ve become “internet penpals” since then. She’s very creative and funny, and I hope talking to me is an entertaining distraction that helps to break up the monotony of her hospital stays. I’ve been back to visit her in the hospital and we have fun talking in person as well, although I had to wear a mask since she has a compromised immune system, and this made it more difficult than usual to understand and speak Japanese.
All in all, I’m very happy with my experience at “Niko-Toma”. It’s been very rewarding so far, and I hope my volunteer efforts are making a difference to the kids in the hospital.

Gabrielle Reinecke: O-koto (traditional Japanese string instrument)

投稿日時: 投稿者:

CIP Blog 2: The Koto
The first time I ever heard the koto played was in my second year of elementary school and I, child that I was, fell in love with the sound and swore that one day I would learn to play it. To find myself in Japan some thirteen years later, realizing that childhood pledge is a bit wondrous in an odd sort of way. I’m not sure if it was serendipity or extreme care when it came to assigning host families (though I suspect it was the latter) but I was lucky enough to be placed in a homestay with connections that allowed that childhood whim to become a reality.
As with most things, it started off rather simple and increased with difficulty as I progressed to more complex pieces. However, though I’ve learned many songs and practices associated with the ikuda-ryuu tradition, I feel that what I’ve really gained is a glimpse into the heart of Kyoto.
My instructor, Imoto-sensei, is both nothing like I expected she would be, and precisely how I imagined a Japanese thespian would be, if that makes any sense at all. She was raised in an era where everything from behavior to language was cultivated to present a certain image of the Japanese woman, and in Japan’s ancient capital no less. This, combined with her artistic roots and, of course, her own personality has lead her to speak with some of the most flowery language I’ve ever heard. Now, by flowery I don’t mean poetic and overdone, but elegant, pitched, and extremely polite. So polite, in fact, that I was thrown when she spoke to me, her student, in keigo (honorific language), and bowed so many times I eventually lost count.
Naturally, when your sensei bows, you bow back (and lower) and respond to her words in kind. This formality, from what I’ve heard, is not uncommon in the world of traditional Japanese arts, but as one who is still somewhat unsure when to bow to whom and how deeply, I found myself a bit flustered until I learned how to enter, greet, and then conclude these lessons. It wasn’t so much that I couldn’t understand the process or words as that there were so many ordered exchanges and bows it took me a few weeks to remember what order they came in. Then there was the presentation of omiyage, and (more difficult to navigate) the way to accept a return gift graciously. I actually found myself biking home in the rain one day with several cold tofu products balanced on one handlebar and about thirty freshly made kara-age on the other, knowing that my host mother had already been cooking all day for her granddaughter’s birthday).
I even had the chance to get an inside glimpse at the way neighborhood relations work when I helped put one of my friends in contact with sensei (I assumed it would take one or two phone calls; in fact it took close to fifteen and a lot of face redress strategies out of respect for people’s existing relations).
All in all I found my experience informative and rewarding. Though it did tend to get time consuming and complicated at times, I realize looking back that it was then that I learned the most. If there is one thing I regret about my CIP, it was the lack of opportunity to interact with people my own age on a more daily basis. Because the American and Japanese school years don’t line up well and we can’t commit to everyday practices, it’s rather difficult for study abroad students to get involved in most university clubs and circles. Unfortunately, this also decreases our chances of interacting with Japanese students who do not actively seek to participate in international circles or courses. Most host families do not tend to have children around our age and, unless you’re up for weekly rounds of nomi-kai (drinking parties), opportunities to befriend Japanese people of our generation are rather limited. Having elected to study abroad a full year, I had hoped to make lasting friendships, but I’m worried that if I don’t find more ways to get involved next semester I’ll lose my chance.

Rachelle Chouinard: Volunteering with Nico Toma at Kyodai Hospital

投稿日時: 投稿者:

As I explained in my previous post, my CIP this semester has been volunteering with Nico Toma, an organization which holds events for children in the long-term care ward for children at Kyoto University Hospital. Aside from spending time with the children in the ward, I’ve also spent a considerable amount of time with children outside of the hospital, as my host sister and her young children often come over for dinner. My contact with my temporary host mom and her young children whom I lived with while my Okaasan was on vacation for several weeks has also given me ample opportunity to see how Japanese children are socialized, especially at the age when they are really beginning to be able to express themselves. Throughout my contact with Japanese children, it has become clear that Japanese children and American children are extremely similar in most ways; they talk about the same sorts of things, are shy in the same ways, and express their opinions in the same adamant ways, especially around the ages of two and three.

I have, however, noticed some differences in the ways in which Japanese children refer to themselves. Many of the young children I have come into contact with under the age of four referred to themselves only in the third person, it’s always “Miwa wants this” or “Miwa feels that”. Initially I was very surprised by these conversations with children, as it struck me as very unnatural, in comparison with American children, for whom the ability to use the word “I” represents a crucial step in the psychological development of the child. Children are liberally encouraged to use the word “I” to express their own wants and feelings, and in America this phenomenon is often spoken of as a crucial step in the development of the child’s ability to distinguish itself from the world around it, as the use of such language reinforces these boundaries. I find this delayed use of the word “I” among Japanese children very interesting, especially in regards to its role in the socialization of these children. Does this delayed use of the singular pronoun have meaning in the context of the development of the individual’s identity? Although referring to oneself is admittedly more complicated than in English, is that the only reason to delay the use of “I”, especially when children are being taught concepts that are just as abstract, such a basic verb conjugations? Does this process further the group socialization of Japanese children by delaying the use of the singular pronoun and thus reinforcing group consciousness and cooperation when children are finally taught to refer to themselves as part of a group, maintaining the psychological distance between one’s name and one’s identity? Although I have been unable to come up with any concrete reasons for this phenomenon, I am very interested in hearing what other people think about it, if anyone else has noticed.

I guess, in closing, although my experience with my CIP was different than I expected, it was overall a very rewarding experience. Most of my time was spent conversing with other volunteers about aspects of American culture and the differences between Japan and America, but the considerable amount of time that I did get to spend playing with the children was very enlightening. I love playing with kids, and I spend most of my free time back home volunteering for a day care or babysitting, so while I enjoyed the chance to do an activity which as comforting and familiar, I was somewhat un prepared for the emotional commitment. Knowing that all of the children I was playing with were ill, and seeing them all connected to tubes and machines, some of them even unable to spend half an hour doing a quiet activity without having to return to their room, was much more upsetting than I had anticipated. I guess it was just the difference between understanding something intellectually and seeing it in person. Overall, though, volunteering with Nico Toma has been a very beneficial experience, as I am now able to more comfortably converse with older Japanese women and had a chance to do something good with my time.

Andres Oliver: Calligraphy Circle

投稿日時: 投稿者:

My time in the shodou club has allowed me to truly appreciate the personal nature of a traditional Japanese art. Though technically a club, the shodou group acts more as a venue for anyone interested in practicing or learning about calligraphy to come and spend however much time he or she wants doing so. Thus, I have found my weekly visits to the shodou room to be moments of calm reflection. Because everyone is focused on their own calligraphy, the shodou room is usually fairly quiet. Practicing my calligraphy in such a setting allows me to forget about everything else and focus on the beauty of the characters themselves. Two things I have come to appreciate from this experience are both the beauty and the difficulty of writing kanji. I believe you cannot truly recognize Japanese writing as an art form until you see it through the lens of shodou, rather than as a mere tool for communication.

Zhuoxin Miao: Taiko Kamiwakakai

投稿日時: 投稿者:

My Community Involvement Project this semester is performing the Taiko with Kitanotenmangu Kamiwakakai. Because our group is affiliated with the Kitanotenmangu, the shrine for the god of knowledge in Japan, we are currently performing at Kitanotenmangu every Saturday evening.

When I was looking for CIP at the beginning of the semester, I wanted to join a circle that was fun, Japanese, and relaxed. Initially the mahjong circle caught my attention, but since it would have most of its activities on the other campus, about an hour away from where I am, I could not pursue that further. Then one of my friends came up with the name of the Taiko performing group; because I actually had played the Taiko once when I was in Kanazawa, I thought it was cool to continue it.

The first day of practice was intense. Because often there were people joining in the Kamiwakakai halfway, and not everyone would necessarily come to every practicing session due to other obligations, different levels of experience and skills were expected. As a result, although I did not know any of the pieces the group was playing at that time, I was asked to practice along with them, rather than letting me have a special training session on the side. It was better that way because by doing exactly what the senior members were doing, I felt that I could get used to my new group more easily.

Even though I do not necessarily know everyone’s name in Kamiwakakai, I really do feel that I am part of the group right now. When one of my friends was absent from a practice, people actually cared and would try to figure out the reason; despite the language barrier, people would try to find topics to talk with me; even people with whom I did not have a chance to talk to helped me when I needed something.  The Kamiwakakai is like an extended family, where I feel warm, safe, and happy.

Scott Parks: Kyoto Esperanto Association

投稿日時: 投稿者:

For an introductory blog post (in Japanese) about my CIP, click here.

"Saluton!" = "Hello!" = "こんにちは！"

Some of the primary goals of the CIP are to get exposure to Japanese culture, improve Japanese language skills, and be involved in a community of Japanese people outside of the internationally-minded perspective of the KCJS study abroad student context.  As a result, I was initially worried about the legitimacy of my CIP, participating in the Kyoto Esperanto Association, due to its seeming lack of adherence to these goals.  Speaking Esperanto specifically means I’m not speaking Japanese, and Esperantists from any country tend to be outside the mainstream cultural norms of their country, in this case Japan.

Nonetheless, in actuality I’ve found immense value in my CIP.  The Kyoto Esperanto Society is surprisingly active, and they have inspired me to continue my journey with the Esperanto movement.  In addition to meeting weekly at the Esperanto Kaikan to study, speak, and talk about Esperanto, I’ve also been taking advantage of unique opportunities that the group has provided me.

This month I traveled to Okayama prefecture for my first Esperanto conference, namely the Twelfth Annual Chugoku & Shikoku Esperanto Congress.  There I was able to meet many people, make new friends, and get a taste of what Esperanto looks like on a larger scale.  In fact, I was lucky enough to meet the organizer of next year’s International Youth Congress, an international gathering of Esperanto speaking youth that takes place every summer in a different country.  Next year’s congress is scheduled to take place in Nara, and my experience in Okayama has motivated me to find a way to attend next year’s congress.

On December 3rd, I will be giving a short speech as part of an event to celebrate the birth of Esperanto’s creator.  The event will be from 1:30pm-4:30pm in Ooyamazaki (大山崎町) and is open to the public.  My talk will be about how I came to be interested in Esperanto as an American who speaks English, largely considered to already have become an international language.  For more information, please view the event flyer (Japanese).

Adriana Reinecke: A Cappella

投稿日時: 投稿者:

The thing that struck me most about the entire C.I.P. initiative was, ironically, just how difficult it was to initiate. In fact, the one aspect of it that left the biggest impression on me was that it is exceedingly difficult to integrate oneself into the flow of normal Japanese university life as an exchange student residing in an entirely different flow.

My initial difficulty stemmed from the fact that I had to wait for the end of the Dōshisha University summer holiday before I received word from the circle that I had contacted – an a cappella circle called ONE VOICES based on the main Kyōtanabe campus. When I finally did manage to arrange a meeting, I quickly learned that speaking the same language does not guarantee mutual understanding. I misinterpreted the intended meeting time, and almost went home before both I and my contact realized our miscommunication and I turned around.

The second thing that surprised me was the group dynamic within the circle. My contact, who was in charge of member recruitment, immediately insisted I called her Yū-min – an extremely familiar nickname. I was even more surprised to observe that all of the club members I met or was introduced to also call her by her nickname, regardless of whether said member were her sempai or kohai. This dynamic is made more unusual by the break-down of the circle. The largest a cappella circle on campus, ONE VOICES consists of over 200 members organized into “bands” of 6, based on musical interest. This means that many members of the circle meet only on rare occasions for circle-wide events. Yū-min, as the coordinator, was familiar with almost everybody, however, interactions between members of different bands ranged from extremely informal to highly traditional, with rules of seniority being strictly observed. My general impression was that this complicated mixing of differing levels of formality between sub-groups and individuals is a far more truthful representation of group dynamics than the stark, hard-and-fast rules of propriety we are taught in class.

Another factor of this 6-member band structure was that, until five other members presented themselves (actually four, as there was another prospective member touring with me), I was unable to formally start taking part in club activities. This became the biggest obstacle for me and was ultimately why I had to shift what I had been using as my “supplementary C.I.P.” activities (with Kyōto University’s KIXS international circle) to be my main C.I.P., whereas my contact with the Dōshisha a cappella circle was relegated to the “supplementary” spot. I confess I was surprised at how strictly the members stuck to the “6 person rule.” I can’t speak for everyone, but in my experience, American university students might be more inclined to temporarily (or even permanently) allow the formation of a 7 member group, or come up with some other solution in such a case. That is not to say that one is better than the other – simply that they are different.

Were KCJS run on the Japanese academic calendar (which would be exceedingly difficult to reconcile with our lives and schedules back home), I personally think it would be easier to integrate into everyday university life. Despite the fact that in the end I was unable to really join the group due to logistical issues, I still feel like I learned a great deal from the contact I did have with its members, both in person and via text messaging. I was pleasantly surprised by the extremely warm welcome I received – by the end of the first day I had been given a nickname, invited to have dinner and to visit Yū-min at her part-time job, and even asked if I was half Japanese (which I found funny seeing as I’m very obviously Caucasian). I was struck by the level of casual friendliness and openness with which I was welcomed into the group, which as I understand is not a given. It was possibly the first time since coming to Japan that I truly did not feel my “foreignness,” mainly because they did not seem overly concerned by it. All in all, although it did not become my regular C.I.P., I found what contact I did have with the circle both educational and fun, for lack of a better word. I hope to keep in touch with the people I met there for the remainder of my stay in Japan.

Michele McAndrews: Orchestra

投稿日時: 投稿者:

The first and probably the most prevalent thing I learned from entering the Katano city orchestra was that it was not all that different from any other orchestra. The overall idea of an “orchestra” was not changed in any way. The conductor, Kimura-san, stood on a podium and swung his baton just as any other conductor, and reiterated passages when he wanted something different. It was easy to follow along, especially with seven years experience of playing the viola. Orchestra practices let me relax and recover from culture shock, as if returning to this little bubble where I actually knew how things worked that trancended both Japanese and American culture. Even following along with the conductor didn’t require all that much mastery of the language, since Kimura-san sung passages and made it clear as to what he wanted to change.
There was only one really noticeable culture difference that stuck out to me. The orchestra would stand and bow together at the beginning and end of practice. It was quite a shock to me the first time it happened, as I had not been expecting such a formality. Another tricky thing about practice was getting the measure numbers right. I had to harness my Japanese counting skill and listen closely to know where the orchestra was starting from. And the last thing that kind of bothered me was that I didn’t have an assigned seat. Usually there is a certain placement of orchestra members, and for the sake of a good concert, one is suppose to sit in the same spot for every practice. I never really knew where I was supposed to sit, so that was a little odd to me.
Speaking of the concert, I think the orchestra played their very best. Beethoven’s 9th symphony is no easy feat, but we somehow managed to pull through really spectacularly. I am really happy that I was able to play Beethoven’s 9th.

Hillary Fens: Doshisha “Photo Club” Member

投稿日時: 投稿者:

Officially, I joined a photography circle at Doshisha for my CIP. I went in not knowing what to expect, and I’m coming out of it not really knowing what happened. I did not really do anything special to become a member, other than express interest in photography and in joining their circle. I noticed many things – namely, that not all circles are as serious as they are made out to be, and the theme of a non-sports-circle may have little or nothing to do with its members’ interests.

These were actually my two preconceived notions on circles – first that, as a circle, there would be a hierarchical order to the club members and that the club bonded them as friends; second, that, as a group branded with “Photo Club”, the members would be interested in photography.

Well, in my case, neither ended up being true.

This particular circle is pretty nebulous, a problem that prevented me from feeling like a full-fledged member of the club. The club only set out to have regular meetings because I had come into the club asking about meetings. So, they decided to meet every week on Fridays.

I thought this was exciting at first – I’m in a circle and we get together every week, great! They were excited, too! However, our “schedule” quickly devolved into members ignoring other members to get out of having to meet. While I never neglected to contact the members, after a while, I started hoping they would just ignore my contact – it was tiresome to go through excuses instead of just having it put directly: we don’t want to meet with you.

The times we did meet for dinner, our language barrier was a huge issue. It was hard to socialize in such a stiff setting. We were friends under very contrived circumstances. Even my one go-to topic, photography, was not successful in soliciting get-to-know-you small talk.

I did make one friend, though, and she seemed to be the only one who legitimately enjoyed photography! With her, language was almost a non-issue, because she had spent time studying English in America. I am happy to be a year-long student so we can hang out more next semester.

Actually, after having made this friend, my weekly CIP event became inviting her out on Friday nights for dinner, along with KCJS friends + other Japanese friends.

Lucia Carver: DJ Circle

投稿日時: 投稿者:

I want to start off by saying that the CIP requirement is an excellent effort on the part of KCJS to ensure that students are being exposed to friends and social situations outside of the KCJS environment. It is absolutely crucial that all study abroad students get out of their comfort zone and leave the safety of other English-speakers and events planned by KCJS; in fact I would say that this is by far the most rewarding part of studying abroad. Knowing that you were able to make friends and contribute something not as a study abroad student but as a valued member of a club or such is an incredibly satisfying feeling.

I joined the DJ circle over at Ritsumeikan, a neighboring university, as I had a difficult time finding contact information for Doshisha’s DJ circle. My experience there reminds me quite strongly of my experience in the volleyball club at a Japanese girl’s high school when I studied abroad in Osaka during my junior year of high school. That is to say, there was a lot of frustration involved.  Despite pledging to be a member of the club, it was apparent that I wasn’t receiving all of the appropriate information; one time when I went to our regular practice space at the normal time, no one was there. I later asked one of the circle members whom I had added on Facebook where everyone had been, and he informed me that practice had been canceled. I had received no notice.

This made me feel as if I was being treated as less than a full member, which needless to say was quite a frustrating experience. I wanted to participate as fully as possibly but without the necessary communication about events and the like, I felt as if I was simply showing up for practice and that was about it.

However, whereas in America I would perhaps get angry and have a few words with the club president, I realized that it was unlikely the president realized this problem was even occurring. One of the responsibilities of being a study abroad student in Japan is that you must be as proactive as possible. If you feel that you are not being accepted fully into the group as a real member, nothing will change unless you take charge of it yourself and eliminate the problem. I am going to speak to the club president this week and reestablish what it is that I joined the club for, and to reach a level of understanding on both sides so that I can begin to feel like a full, contributing member.

These sort of cultural differences in communicating wants or in the way we make assumptions about another’s understanding of our feelings are difficult to grasp for all international students, but especially for Americans in Japan. We come from very different cultural contexts, and speaking as someone who as of now has lived in Japan for a total of 1 and a half years and studied the language and culture for many, I still struggle with these fundamental yet frustratingly subtle elements of communication. However, working through these frustrations and feeling glimmers of understanding are truly the most rewarding part of being immersed in a foreign culture.