私のCIPは京都大学病院の「にこにこトマト」というボランティアです。にこにこトマトはボランティアのグループです。そして、そのグルプの目的は入院している子供に元気になってもらって楽しませるごとです。私は子供が好きでセラピストになりたいのでそこでボランティアしたかったんです。
一週間に二回ボランティアしています。最近、レッスンを手伝ったりバザーの準備とか子供のためにハロウィーンのカードを作ったりしました。毎週たくさんレッスンとか紙芝居とか音楽セラピーがあります。そして毎年二回人気のバザーがあってハロウィーンの時には子供にハロウィーンのカードをあげます。ボランティアをしているみんなはほんとにやさしくて、手伝いが必要なのですごく慎重に集中してイベントの準備をしています。にこにこトマトの人だけでなく、京都のコミュニティーもいい人ばかりです。バザーのためにたくさんの人が色々な物を寄付してくれました。よかったら、ぜひイベントに来てください！
私のCIPは京都大学ソフトテニスのサークルです。子供の頃、テニスをしまし
たから、サークルに入りたいと思いました。軟式テニスは硬式テニスと同様ス
ポーツだと思います。硬式テニスは硬くて、黄色くて、小さいボールを使う一
方、軟式テニスは柔らかくて、白くて、大きいボールを使います。
サークルは毎週三回練習があります。サークルはたくさんのメンバーがいます
けど、練習に二十人ぐらい来ます。他の大学の大学生や、男性も女性もサーク
ルに入れます。
私はソフトテニスが上手になって、そして、日本のサークル文化も学びます。
アメリカで、クラブはとても気安い一方、日本のサークルはちょっと真面目だ
と思います。練習で他のメンバーはいつも静かなままです。各ドリルの後でメ
ンバーは先輩の周りに集まって、次のドリルの説明をして、メンバーは先輩に
お辞儀をします。とても面白いと思います。
ソフトテニスが好きになりました！毎日頑張りますから、上手になるはずで
す。次のコンパに参加するのをとても楽しみにしています！
私のCIPは京大の柔道部です。アメリカで、ブラジリアンじゅうじゅつを練習しました。じゃ、ブラジリアンじゅうじゅつと柔道が同じだから、日本で柔道が練習したいです。柔道京都大学の学生と一緒に練習します。京大の学生は全員とても上手です。みなさんは黒帯です。練習は三時間です。難しいけど、とても楽しいです。京大の柔道部でたくさんねわざを練習しています。ねわざが好きだから、京大の柔道部が好きです。京大の柔道家はとてもやさしいです。私は柔道のしゅほうを教えています。学期の終わり時、上手になりたいです。
実は僕はCIPがまだできていません。本当に悲しいです。KCJSに入った時オーケストラにしたかったです。ですから同志社と京大のオーケストラにE-メールをしましたが二週間ぐらいお返事を待ちました。CIPを始めなくてはいけませんでしたから同志社にオーケストラの人電話をかけました。本当に怖すぎました。でもできました。後で電話をかけたのに、月曜日にオーケストラの練習に行くと皆僕のことが誰か分かりませんでした。とても気まずかったです。オーボエを借りられるのか聞きましたが、借りられないことが分かりました。
最近の水曜日に模型研究会にメールを送つのにまだお返事を待っています。来週の火曜日までに返事をもらえなかったら他のサークルを探すつもりです。
My CIP, klexon, is a club to help Japanese people practice their English with native speakers. At the risk of sounding a bit self-satisfied, I have to admit, my English is quite good. Given this pronounced excellence, I felt up to the task of klexon. The first time I went, I was thrown in without a lot instruction, and ended up just chatting with the random people assigned to me. It was quite fun; there were many levels of English ranging from something resembling English to giving me a run for my money English. The former level was my favorite. While they would try and regurgitate their memorized introductions or phrases you could see the anxiety and frustration color their faces, the same anxiety and frustration which I’ve grown quite familiar and close with. Their English wasn’t at a level which really allowed them to have a personality, their Japanese, however, did. When they tossed off the burden of English, they went from shy, boring OL girls to sarcastic, sharp examples of modern women. While she would answer in Japanese, I would answer in English. I felt bad for listening to her Japanese instead of forcing her to speak in English, but I wonder if engaging her, entertaining her and leaving her with a sense of fun as well as practicing her listening comprehension was more valuable than forcing her to do something which just frustrated her, i.e. speaking. Is it not a better to enjoy something but move more slowly than to find something frustrating and plow through it anyway? Would the cost of forcing her speak be her interest in the subject? I find the idea of learning a language a lot like exercise. If you force someone to exercise to the point of exhaustion, then they’ll always have that pavlovian response of pain and exhaustion whenever they start the task again. Should this girl who I was talking to stain her experience with learning English with the anxiety and frustration which had been so evident before? Should she not instead gain some satisfaction that her listening comprehension is good enough to have half a conversation with a native speaker? At the end of our conversation, my partner probably felt a lot more confident and comfortable with herself and her English than before.
Something to notice, I think, is that this really isn’t specific to Japan or Japanese people. I imagine that a lot of the people in America who learned English organically, e.g. my ancestors or the immigrants of today, are living proof of this idea. While many may not have learned English in school, they picked it up on their own terms while living out their lives, while experiencing their lives. Anyway, it’s always interesting to see how people learn and how the way they learn affects them.
I really enjoyed volunteering at the Manga Museum. The atmosphere of the museum is welcoming and comfortable. People of all ages sit by the bookshelves along the walls or outside on the huge lawn to read manga. The other Japanese volunteers are also very nice. Uramune-san, the person who is in charge of us, has been especially friendly and patient in helping us to establish a routine at the museum.
I think this may be the first time the museum has had KCJS students in the front part of the museum interacting with Japanese and foreign visitors. Our only job was to give English tours, so we often just stood by the front desk with the greeters until a visitor came who wanted a tour. We usually went on Sundays, but even though more Japanese visitors come to the museum on weekends, there seem to be fewer foreign visitors. I think that because foreign visitors are usually tourists, it does not matter to them whether they go to the museum on the weekend or a weekday. However, the museum was very flexible in allowing us to come whenever it fit our schedules as long as they are notified in advance.
I did not know exactly what to expect about volunteering at the museum, but I did think it would be easier to talk to the other volunteers about topics unrelated to the museum and get to know them better; however, they are very busy with their own tasks, so it is hard to ask them about irrelevant topics. Although the workers are always nice and patient in answering my questions about the museum, they do not usually initiate conversations with us. We also take our break at a different time from other volunteers. If there are other people in the break room, they are usually napping or using their cell phones, so we rarely get a chance to interact with them outside of the more formal work setting. Although the work setting of the museum may have been a factor, I think because Melanie and I always stuck together during our volunteering time also made us more unapproachable for the other Japanese volunteers to come and talk with us.
It is interesting to see how the Japanese volunteers interact with each other in the semi-formal work setting of the Manga Museum. For example, whenever another museum worker passes by, both people say「おつかれさまです」to each other. Museum workers also speak in formal Japanese to visitors. When a visitor leaves the museum, any worker near the exit bows and thanks them for coming. These ritualized greetings and switch in formality between fellow workers and visitors are very interesting to observe. The other workers even included us in their greetings, which made me feel more a part of the museum.
I was never very fond of children, unless they reminded me of myself. I don’t know if anything really changed my opinion, but nevertheless, I’ve enjoyed my time at Kyoto Bunkyo. I would have liked to have a role more like what a language assistant would actually do, but my schedule and the school schedules don’t really match up well enough for me to have that experience. Anyhow, I usually just float around and do whatever people tell me to do. Which basically turns out to be speaking to their students in English, which is completely within the bounds of my capabilities, no problem. The first or second time I showed up was a bit uncomfortable because I didn’t know what to expect or the situation wasn’t really optimal, but by the third and fourth time, I was thoroughly entertained. As for the secret of being entertained, I simply grew to not take anything personally and just bask in the adorability of bad English. As contrary as it could be to my personality at school, I would have to say that I can be quite the charmer. I pretty much say whatever I want within the realm of acceptability and treat the students more like friends and acquaintances than friends. Also, perhaps because I am usually a quiet person, I find it really easy to sit down patiently to deal with other quiet people and coaxing an actual conversation out of the ones who were actually capable of holding one. Anyhow, although I don’t feel particularly integrated in the school, I got the general idea that I wouldn’t hate myself completely if I decided to come back to teach in the JET Program.
The first choir practice I attended at Kyodai University held many surprises for me. That first day, four other KCJS students and I were warmly greeted by three choir members at the entrance to the University. They then lead us upstairs to a large room where the rest of the choir was assembled. Members surrounded us and introduced themselves, pointing to their nametags which they all had hanging on strings around their necks. Every single person I talked to made sure to make us feel like we were part of the group. As we participated in the warm-up exercises, the moment we looked confused, or even before we had a chance to, someone was always there to help us along. We went through the routine of stretching, singing while walking, singing while walking backwards and other voice exercises. The new members had their voices examined and I was placed into the Alto section. We practiced with our section and then sang the piece as a whole choir. After practice there was a designated time for people to make
announcements. I quickly caught on to choir rituals such as the established responses to certain phrases. Whenever a member was speaking to the choir he or she announced their name and everyone responded: “Whoa!” If they mentioned a place: “so close!”, a time: “so early!”, a price: “so cheap!” and so on. These responses united
the entire club and created a fun atmosphere while listening to numerous ordinary speeches. Once the announcements were finished we met with our section groups one last time before disbanding. The Alto leader gave us a recap on practice and there was time for Alto-specific notices. After some cleaning and a song by the guys,
then girls and finally everyone all together my first practice came to an end.
Before starting my CIP, I had been warned that it can be particularly difficult to engage Japanese in conversation but, instead, I found that I couldn’t get a word in edge-wise and was shocked by the contagious energy that everyone seemed to be bursting with. After the first day, I left feeling confident that I would quickly make tons of friends.
However, as time passed and our novelty wore off, students stopped approaching us on their own. I regularly talked to Alto members but otherwise I felt like I was sliding backwards and losing that initial sense of membership. In retrospect, I think joining the circle with five other KCJS members and having that first overwhelming interaction with the Japanese students gave me a false sense of security that ended up reducing my efforts to socialize. Another deterring factor was the number of practices. The students
had most of February off and then when they did meet we were on Spring Break. Despite these drawbacks I do enjoy being a member of the choir and internalizing Japanese social norms. I hope to make the most of the last few practices
we have left and solidify the friendships I have made.
As per usual, the days have continued to grow increasingly busy now that the end of the semester is drawing near. Even so, I continue attending practices for both Kyudo and choir on a regular basis.
First, I’d like to discuss my relationship with my bow. Emily, Megan and I have nicknamed the bow that I tend to use during Kyudo, “Edward”, as in “Edward Cullen.” Why would I ever do that to myself, you ask? See, just like the abusive boyfriend Edward Cullen of Twilight fame, I tend to get injured whenever I use the bow. And, just like a textbook case of domestic abusive, I still use the same bow because I know that the reason why my bruises from Kyudo continue to increase is because I’m doing something incorrectly. It’s all fun when we joke about my abusive bow (Bow, Beau, get it?) but whenever I think my bruises have healed, I find myself getting new ones to replace the old ones. It’s like the bows are trying to remind me that this is a sport and requires some kind of physical strain. I joked around about finding the one sport that doesn’t require running and getting exhausted when I found my strong affection for archery of all types, but after practicing for these past months, I realize that’s not entirely true. Partly because of the occasional slaps of the bow string against my arm, and partly because of the gripping energy I realize I lack after a full hour of shooting, do I realize that archery still exercises muscles more than one would think.
With that said, I’ve known for a while as to what my issue is, and I’m just having problems changing it. My fear of being attacked by the string of the bow and my improper method of handling the bow has hindered me from shooting arrows sans corporal punishment. You’d think I’d be used to dealing with pain from the string after having gotten hit so many times, but I’m still subconsciously shying away and doing weird things when I practice. Meaning, I’m not really getting the meditating aspect part of Kyudo down. I’m entirely wrapped up in going through the motions that I find that I’m having difficulty getting out of my mind. More than shooting the arrow, trying to get out of my mind is the hardest part for me.
Since I’ve figured out how to hold the bow somewhat properly, the pain has decreased over the past couple of weeks. That does not mean that I’ve been able to graduate on to a painless existence in the dojo. In the end, the pain I receive is just like when those monks hit people during meditation when they find their minds wandering. It serves as a reminder of the fact that A.) I’m still doing weird things unnatural to kyudo and that B.) it needs to stop. All I can do is keeping chugging on, and maybe Edward and I can come to some kind of compromise soon. Or I could just use the other bow we named Jacob, whom I work better with anyway. Either works.
Moving on to choir, I think my main issue is the fact that my motivation to regularly attend is like zip. My lack of motivation stems from the fact that I know I’m practicing for a performance that I don’t have the funds to participate in. I personally think it’s ridiculous that I have to pay 10600 yen to perform in my own concert. And I really want to introduce the concept of fundraising to the group. But since I need some kind of motivation to keep me going, I’ve decided to go with the cheaper option: performing the theme song and the encore for only 2000 yen.
It’s still frustrating, though. The people are really nice, and they’ve always been incredibly welcoming, and even though we’re not performing the actual set, we’re still allowed to practice with them. But perhaps actually going and practicing the set with them increases my frustration with my lack of sufficient funds to appear in the whole concert.
It makes me wonder though, am I in this for the music, or am I in this for the people? Giving up on performing because of funds, and losing motivation… Perhaps this also stems from the lack of practices over their spring break, and the cancelled practices due to influenza bugs going around. I miss singing like crazy, but I’m not so crazy as to spend that much on my own performance. Maybe my love for music has died over the years of not singing — although I really hope that’s not the case. I have to think about this more.
It’s at least a bit heartening to know that my issues with both kyudo and choir do not stem from some kind of cultural misunderstanding. These are things that could virtually, and probably already does, happen anywhere else in the world. Money, time, lack of skills—these are all problems common to any other college student like myself, Japanese or not. And in a way, that provides at least a little bit of comfort, knowing that I have some kind of inherent connection with this strange new world I’ve been living in for the past few months.
Woes aside, I really am having a blast. That much, at least, hasn’t changed.
For the spring semester, I decided to continue my CIP with the Niconico Tomato (Nico Toma) volunteer group at Kyoto University Hospital. Nico Toma is responsible for organizing activities for the children receiving long-term treatment at the hospital. In addition to arranging activities, they also change the monthly decorations in the children’s ward and create holiday treat bags for the children.
Because of the language barrier, it was sometimes hard to understand the conversations that the other volunteers were having, but overall I felt that I had been included as a member of the group. The other KCJS students and I usually sit around the table with the rest of the Nico Toma volunteers and work together on various projects. No matter what task they are focused on, Nico Toma stays meticulously organized, and group cohesiveness is always important. When making holiday cards, for example, each volunteer is assigned a different step in the process, and it is through our combined efforts that the quality of every card is preserved. Teamwork was also important when we prepared for the bazaar event, as all of the merchandise needed to be sorted, priced, wrapped, before being arranged neatly into sale displays. The KCJS students were assigned to the towels and clothing section, and we were responsible for creating an organized display that would appeal to the shoppers. We successfully completed this task, and I felt very happy when the other volunteers complimented our display. Volunteering Nico Toma has been a great experience, and it was very impressive to see how much time and effort the volunteers spend towards helping the children have a more pleasant stay at the hospital.