My CIP is working at a neuroscience lab at Kyoto University. I learned about the lab from my research mentor at Washington University in St. Louis. The lab is in the same field, circadian rhythms, that I do research in back in America, so I was quite familiar with the techniques and experimental goals of the lab, making the transition from that perspective quite easy.

The research questions that the Okamura lab is interested in asking is: “What are the mechanisms behind 24-hour rhythms in our daily life that determine when we get up in the morning and when we go to bed at night?” By more thoroughly understanding these mechanisms, they hope to develop therapies that could alleviate the effects of shift work and jet lag, as well as some types of depression.

The project I worked on tried to parse out the relationship between two genes involved in the sleep-wake cycle. I also learned quite a few new experimental techniques.

The science and the experimental procedures are basically the same as in America, but the lab culture is quite different. In America, graduate students usually have input on their projects can help shape them. This helps give the graduate students experience of being intellectually engaged and shaping a project, a skill that can help them later in life. In the Okamura lab, projects are usually handed down in a dictatorial manner, and most of the graduate students had little say in their projects.

There was also a stark difference in the number of women working in the lab. In America, women outnumber the men. In the Okamura lab, however, they represent only 20 percent of the lab, and there were no female postdocs. In the room I worked in with 8 people, there were no women. I hadn’t realized that this would be the case so it surprised me.

I was also surprised to learn that there were no Japanese scientific journals. Japanese scientists consume new science and publish exclusively in English. I hadn’t quite realized the prominence of English in the scientific community before this.

There was also a feeling of less collaboration between labs compared to what is common in America. For instance, in America it is common for entire floors or departments to get together for a happy hour or other social event on Fridays. I never heard or saw anything like that at Kyoto University. There was still socialization, but it was more often within the same lab. The lab in Japan is a bit of a closer unit compared to what exists in America so it makes sense to me that they would do more of their socializing within their close-knit group.

The working hours were also much longer. Typically, in America, people would work from 10 until 6. When I would stay later to finish an experiment, typically until 9pm, I found that almost half of the people in the Okamura lab were still working. My boss, Doi-sensei, would leave to eat dinner with his family, but then come back into lab to continue working until 2am. When I came back after a lab outing at midnight to collect my experimental results, he was still sitting at his desk with the lights out alone, staring at his computer screen. Also, since they had lab meeting every Saturday at 10am, it was practically expected that you work a six-day week. There are of course people who work hard in America, but its not quite as expected.

Also, the graduate student system is different. At Kyoto University, for your entire senior year, you work in a lab instead of taking classes. This basically forces everyone to work in a lab for a year, something you don’t see in America. Over 90% of Kyoto University’s graduate students come from their undergraduate program. Unlike in America, though, where you’re give a stipend to attend graduate school, in Japan you have to pay the school.

Also, I heard almost no keigo in the lab. When they were talking to their superiors, they would use desu/masu form but not keigo. For instance, when a university student would talk to a graduate student, they would use desu/masu, but not keigo. And then, when they were outside of the lab getting lunch or dinner, they would always use informal Japanese, even if there was different in their rankings. However, when they were outside of the lab with one of the sensei’s, they would still use desu/masu. When I asked them about not using keigo they said that it was difficult to use so they typically didn’t use it.

Overall, though, the people have been very nice and welcoming and I have learned a lot from this experience.

This semester, I had the opportunity to volunteer as an assistant English teacher at Kyoto Bunkyo High School. I wanted a chance to help Japanese students with English because I understand the struggle of learning a foreign language; and luckily, I was able to help this class of students who were preparing to study abroad in Canada. They were making presentations about something Kyoto-related that they enjoy—everything from calligraphy to green tea to the Shinsengumi—so not only did I have the opportunity to help them with written and spoken English, but I also learned a lot about Japan and Kyoto along the way.
Because they were preparing to study abroad, these students were enthusiastic and willing to learn—I was concerned that I would be in a class full of kids who did not really care about learning English, but this turned out not to be the case. I was also extremely surprised to be placed in a class of high school students; I expected elementary or junior high students, but not students much closer to my age. I thought that maybe I would get more attitude, less respect, and little cooperation from some students of this age. But as mentioned before, these students want to learn English and as a result, appreciated my help. There were times when I thought the students did not want my help or did not enjoy my presence in their classroom. Again, I turned out to be wrong. These students were just a bit shy or timid, and when I tried talking to them about their presentations, they often eagerly accepted my help. Whether it be listening to them practice, helping them with PowerPoints, assisting them with their pronunciation, or fixing their English presentation scripts, they usually listened closely and the changes they made reflected my commentary.
The last day I volunteered was particularly interesting. I finally got to see the final product of weeks of practice on the students’ part. But before that, I met another group of students and helped with their class. These students had studied in Australia and likewise were very motivated. I assisted with and judged a debate the students had—about the pros and cons of the internet and smartphones! I remember having to write on a similar topic for my Japanese class back home and therefore understood how difficult it could be. After the debate, they had to make up alternative endings to fairy tales and present them. Again, I was impressed, and their humor and personalities came across even in English. My favorite story ending was created by a couple of girls who had to write a new ending for Pinocchio. They said that Pinocchio and his father were spit out of the whale’s mouth—but into another whale’s mouth! (The End.) I was also amused by an extremely vocal female Japanese student who was playful with the teacher and the JET assistant; far from being the stereotype of a quiet Japanese student, she spoke her mind and asked me multiple questions. I appreciated her enthusiasm and it was a change from my encounter with the other class, where I had to ask the students questions to get them to speak with me.
My CIP was a great experience; I only regret that I was not able to help out more. Due to the conflicting schedules of KCJS and the Japanese school system, I could only volunteer at Kyoto Bunkyo High School a few times. Yet this time allowed me a new perspective on Japanese school life and a chance to help motivated students—students who, like me, will soon be studying abroad and living daily life in a foreign language.

Every Thursday, I volunteer at Zenryuji Hoikuen. Hoikuen means nursery school or daycare. Each week I get to join lots of cute children in their playtime! The kids range in age from several months to six years old. Playtime has usually already begun by the time I arrive. The caretakers interact with the kids but mostly supervise. I am not given any instruction on how to interact with the kids, so I take a more hands-on approach. For example, when I arrive, it’s not uncommon for a child to run up to me, take me by the hand, and lead me to their area of the sandbox. Then they will ask me to partake in their imaginary food, play on their imaginary boat, or in one interesting case, tend to their imaginary cemetery. I love being around these creative kids. If you think learning Japanese is difficult, imagine being in a room full of children who are talking all at once and attempting to understand their child vocabulary. The children say a lot of interesting things, and I’ve learned new things by interacting with them.

Even on days when I am tired, I can’t help but grin as soon as I walk into the nursery and the children notice my arrival. My spirits are lifted as they yell “Kita!” and other welcoming phrases. Some of them have asked me what days I come to the nursery, and know to look for me every Thursday. After play time, the children clean up their toys, and I help them.

Due to low pay and high turn-over rate, there are not a lot of hoikushi, or nursery school teachers, working in Japan. For this reason, entering one’s child into a daycare is extremely competitive, and there are long waiting lists. Women sometimes sign up for the waiting list as soon as they find out they are pregnant! I knew this before I started volunteering at the nursery, but unfortunately I haven’t been able to have any discussions with the nursery school teachers about their work. I mostly interact only with the children, and my volunteer work is very self-directed.

Ancient kamado rice cookers, Akira Kurosawa’s former film studios, and the movement to protect Kyoto’s machiya houses are some of the myriad topics Deepest Kyoto Tour (DKT) covers on its tours—and, to my surprise, ones that have made a significant impact on my time in Japan.

DKT is an agency geared toward foreign travelers, its premise being that tourists should get to experience a Kyoto that exists behind the glimmering façades of Ginkakuji brochures. The tours cover a variety of themes, ranging from the possible connections that may exist between Judaism and Buddhism, to Kyoto’s wholesale fish markets. I have DKT to thank for the unique histories it exposed me to during my first few weeks in Kyoto, a time when I still considered visiting konbini one of the most exciting cultural experiences Japan had to offer.

From how meetings are held to how decisions are made between co-workers, my experience at DKT gave me a glimpse into how Japanese organizations are run on a day-to-day basis. It functioned both a nice complement to the broader themes we cover in the KCJS Corporations class, and as research material for an ethnography I’m writing in my language class.

My ethnography focuses on how people handle disagreements in Japan. How do members of a collectivist society in particular conduct arguments?

Amusingly, I witnessed many disagreements and cultural misunderstandings in my time as an intern, particularly between the foreign interns and the Japanese staff. What I found most curious was how the staff responded to the students when we made mistakes—it seems as if in these interactions especially, there was a tendency to repeat a statement that one believes is correct rather than go into more concrete detail as to why one believes in that particular statement.

Let’s take, for example, the time that I got lost trying to meet up with the rest of our group for one of our Saturday tours. I showed up at the JR Uzumasa station, confused as to why at five minutes to nine, I couldn’t see a single person from DKT. When I called the coordinator to ask her if the meeting was still on, she informed me that I was mistaken, as we were scheduled to meet up at the Uzumasa Tenjingawa Subway station. After some deliberation, I understood her command as instructing me to meet her at this station. So off I went, walking for about twenty minutes before I arrived at the station and again saw no one there. I called my coordinator again.

“Hi (Or perhaps more accurately, moshimoshi)! I’m finally at Tenjingawa,” I told her. “Where should I meet up with you?”

“What?!” she responded. “You mean you’re at Uzumasa Kyoruji, the Randen station, right?”

I looked around to see signs for the subway and big Helvetica letters spelling out UZUMASA TENJINGAWA. “No, I’m pretty sure I’m at the subway station.”

And this is where things got a little weird.

“But I told you to go to Kyoruji. You’re at Kyoruji, right? You’re at Kyoruji.”

“No…I’m sorry, I really don’t–”

“You’re at Kyoruji, right? We’ll meet you there. We’re taking the next train over!”

And so the conversation proceeded until I relented and told her I was indeed at Kyoruji, and that I’d see her soon.

To get myself out of this pickle, I decided to hitch a ride toward Kyoruji on the Randen train, a stop for which was right across from the subway. Lo and behold, when I boarded the platform, I saw my coordinator and her co-worker standing just on the other side of the wall that separated subway users from Randen users.

This is just one example of how a number of our interactions went, each of which made me wonder–why is it that no one appears to be listening to my reasoning? What have I done wrong? Is this normal for Japanese adults, or have I just come into contact with some quirky people recently?

If I were to go out on a limb to answer these questions, I’d say it’s a matter of age and people automatically assuming that I’m somehow mistaken in an interaction, whether because I’m younger, or perhaps because I’m a foreigner.

Ultimately, this is only a generalization based on experiences I had with about five people, not controlled for such factors as age, gender, or sample size. I haven’t spent much time observing arguments between Americans, or Americans and foreigners, either. It’s not very scientific discovery, but it’s something to think about. Has anyone else experienced arguments in Japan? Have you seen a similar trend? How have you handled disagreements while you’ve been here?

今学期のＣＩＰのため Deepest Kyoto Tour (DKT) という団体に参加しました。毎週水曜日、ひとまち交流感で開かれた会議でDKTのコーディネーターに会いました。そして、毎週土曜日と日曜日に、外国人のために作られたツアーを経験しました。DKTには同志社大学の交換留学生とKCJSの留学生の二人も参加したことは幸せでした。

この活動の最もいい点は日本語の勉強ができたことでした。毎週水曜日のミーティングで会社の仕事についての単語を学んだり、日本のマナーやEメールの書き方も練習できました。そして、ツアーで大工や学者、写真家などいろいろな人々に会い、それぞれの年齢や職業が違う人と話すようになりました。

このツアーで歴史についても多くの貴重なことを学びました。シネフィルの私に一番楽しい体験はおそらく映画村のスタジオツアーでした。しかし、他のツアーでユダヤ教と仏教の関係の仮説を初めて聞いたし、黒澤明の映画のもともとの撮影現場を歩いたり、古墳の中にも入ったりしました。

一方、時間の問題があってDKTをやめることにしたので、現在、私は新しい活動を探しています。探している活動は多様な人々に会えることが続けられる活動です。できれば、自分の気持ちや考えを想像的に表せるような活動もしたいと思います。

例えば、ダンスクラブに入り、体を動かす、それとも映画サークルに参加し、映画についての会話を楽しくする活動を目指しています。ＣＩＰに関して、将来には無限の可能性があるでしょう。