「KCJS Year」カテゴリーアーカイブ

Augustus Chow: Zen

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For my CIP this semester, I participated in Zen meditation. Prior to KCJS, my knowledge of Zen was limited to what I had seen in manga or anime or a few brief descriptions from various classes. I remember very clearly hearing in one business class when I was a freshman that many American professionals came to Japan for a couple weeks every year to study Zen and focus their minds by learning the Japanese methods. Honestly, I found the statement questionable and perhaps of a slight orientalist bent, and I can’t say that has changed much from my experience with Zen.

As a practice, even now, I can’t say that I understand Zen or have really gotten very good at it. As such, I also can’t say that I’ve noticed any distinct improvements to my mindset. There are a couple misconceptions about Zen that I would like to clear up. From various media, you see Zen meditation as a monk slapping your shoulder with a stick, if you do anything wrong. I had the impression that getting slapped was a bad thing and that you got slapped if you moved around or weren’t focusing on Zen. So, the first time, I stayed still and endured brutal agony from losing sensation in my lower limbs after an hour and then trying to stand up; the position is not the comfiest. The priest explained to the group later that you’re supposed to bow to the priest to get him to slap you with the stick. Then, after getting slapped, you can readjust your posture—which I took to mean let your blood circulate again. Sure enough, it helps a lot.

The discomfort does seem to be an important aspect of the meditation. Focusing on doing so many difficult to maintain aspects of the meditation at once means your mind has no chance to wander off or fret about something else. So, even if though don’t come out centered and on target for everything in the next week, I do enjoy an hour of not really thinking or worrying about anything, which is actually pretty nice. In KCJS, you build up a lot of stress. While you’re in Kyoto, you’re balancing learning Japanese, various other classes, and trying to experience Japan as much as possible. Sometimes, you where yourself out trying to do it all, and having a CIP where you can just let it all go rather than feel yet another thing to stress out about helps.

As for my interactions with people during Zen, I have to say they’re rather limited. You have an hour to meditate, and you do that in silence. Afterwards, everyone goes to another room for ten minutes and you get to enjoy a small snack and some tea. During that time, there is a little talking, mostly on the part of the priest, he talks to just about everyone briefly, while everyone waits their turn for the snack and green tea. When everyone is done, the priest escorts you out of the temple and ushers you home. I haven’t experienced that much in terms of the same people showing up. A couple people show up fairly regularly, but I’d say the vast majority show up once and you never see them again. From what I understood of many conversations I’ve overheard, a lot of people do it, because they’re touring Kyoto and know that there are temples where you can practice Zen, so they like to give it a try.

My actual time to talk to and interact with people is very quietly while waiting for tea and for a few minutes if we walk in the same direction leaving the temple. All told, I’d say that amounts to a maximum of twelve or fifteen minutes per session, provided I find someone interested in talking. A lot of my conversations amount to their curiosity in a foreigner attending a Zen meditation lesson, so I usually have the same conversation topic rehearsed: what have I done in Kyoto, where do I live, why did I come to Kyoto, and what am I studying now. So those conversations are usually bust. If I’m lucky, they’re interested in going abroad or have gone abroad, or they know a bit about some interest of mine.

There are a couple things I wish I did in order to increase my chances to interact with Japanese people during CIP. For one thing, the priest looks pretty busy, but he seems like a friendly person. I regret not trying to speak to him more, and I’d recommend trying to do so. Another thing that could increase talking chances is to arrive earlier than the appointed time. People tend to gather before hand and stand around doing nothing. It’s not a bad chance to try talking them up.

Jiajing Gao: Pottery Class

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For my CIP, I took a pottery class at a studio called Zuikougama, near Higashiyamananajo. I went every Saturday and stayed for about three hours each class. The ceramic classes were run very differently in Japan comparing to America. The ceramic class I took at Boston University looked at ceramic from an architectural point of view. Therefore, taking a real pottery class in Japan was a very nice experience for me.

The studio was well organized in a very nice environment. In total, there were about 15 students in the class, and most of the people were elderlies who were very professional. The studio provided tools, glaze and clay, so that I never had to carry things around, and the classroom was setup in a convenient way. The teachers were patient, and they were always available for questions.

For me, the hardest part was the first class when the teacher explained the steps people followed in order to finish a piece. Language barrier was limiting me to be more creative with my projects because I could not fully express myself. However, the class gave students a lot of freedom to do what they liked. In terms of Japanese practice, it was little hard to do during the classes. Because most of people were elderlies, topics were limited, and as a pottery class, the environment was meant to be quiet, starting a conversation was only appropriate at certain times.

I have enjoyed spending my Saturday mornings doing pottery at Zuikougama, and if anyone is interested in Japanese pottery, I recommend taking this class as your CIP.

Jackie Oshiro: Aikido

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As a full-year student, I had the opportunity to continue my CIP for the entirety of this school year, and although I had extensive experience with aikido prior to coming to Japan, this semester allowed me to practice in a way I had never experienced before. Last semester, I went to practice in the way that I was used to – after school in the evenings. This semester, however, that didn’t work quite as well with my class schedule and because my dojo offered it, I decided instead to go to practice in the morning before school.

If martial arts are supposed to be a way for you to train your discipline and self control, then it seems to me that early morning training will double your benefits. Not only do you have to discipline yourself in practice, but the very act of getting up before the sun in a frigid bedroom definitely ups your discipline as well. I’m not going to lie – although I enjoy practice and think of myself as a morning person, waking up and getting motivated to go to practice at 5:30 am was a real struggle. And yet, it seems to be a natural part of seriously practicing a martial art here. The people I saw in the morning were the same people who regularly attended evening classes and held the most responsibility in the dojo. And although aikido is clearly an important part of their lives, they also hold regular jobs and do things outside the dojo.

Back at home, in my experience at least, this sort of culture doesn’t really exist. You hear of people going to the gym or going for a jog in the early morning before work or students going to sports practice before school, but this sort of lifelong commitment to a practice that isn’t your work seems to be rather unheard of in America.  Again, I could be totally unaware of a significant portion of American society that contradicts my broad, sweeping statement, but perhaps it has to do with differences in societal values. I feel like maybe Americans might be reluctant to commit themselves to this type of strict practice because it would further limit their time at home, something that’s highly valued. Or maybe even that Japanese people and American people don’t see this type of training and its benefits in the same light.

Although there were times that I would definitely rather have slept in (and some times that I did), I’m incredibly grateful to have had this opportunity to take my practice to a new level.

Christopher Huber: Tanka Circle

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What is tanka? The question is simply answered: a poem written in 5-7-5-7-7 syllabic pattern. I felt content with my answer and decided to join the Kyoto University tanka club to try my hand at the art of their composition and reading. However, as I regularly participated in the club’s meetings, I began to lose faith in this answer of mine. In these meetings, called utakai, participating members submit poems in advance, which are then discussed, analysed and judged by the group. Over the course of these discussions, it became clear that the group and I were approaching the poems in quite different ways; it seemed that our concept of the nature of tanka was estranged. It appeared to me as though the members, even if they complemented the form of my poems or the choice of imagery, struggling to engage with them in the same way. I felt that I would never be able to truly join the group until I had solved the mystery.

At first, I thought the problem lay in communication. Although I could usually understand the clear, slow voice of my Japanese teacher, this ability did not translate into a comprehension of a heated literary discussion about poems I could not prepare in advance. There were certainly many times when I felt completely lost in the discussion. I had failed to follow the line of interpretation, even if I could follow the basic meaning of the sentences.

Aside from the discussion itself, the poems provided another obstacle. Though armed with a dictionary, there was always at least one poem I failed to grasp. Since every member is called upon to make comment, these moments were often quite trying; I would tend to talk around the poem, focusing on specific images without providing any attempt to string together the separate ideas.

However, I gradually felt I was overcoming these problems. My key strategy was to focus on interpreting the poems in advance even if it meant I had to largely ignore the first poem; that time was usually lost anyway in readjusting myself to the style of discussion. Consequently, when it came to the poems I had analysed, I was in a much better position; I was aware of a large amount of possible interpretation, which made following the comments easier and I had already decided on a few points to share, which dulled the pressure and allowed me to join more actively in the discussion.

The strategy proved key to becoming a member of the group. I won the respect of the other members not through my poems, but my interpretations. They responded to the evident consideration I was putting into my interpretation, which communicated my respect for them as poets and their craft. However, even though I was accepted into the club, the distance members felt to my poems did not disappear. We seemed to conceive of tanka in fundamentally different ways.

My first thought had been that tanka was no more than any other form of poetry, no more than one of many possible modes of expression. However, I was forced to reconsider this position after my exposure to the attitude of the club members. Questions on poetry or literature in general tended to meet with surprized and confused expressions; one would think I had asked a strange, even absurd question. When a reply finally emerged, it usually stressed the uniqueness of tanka, before admitting very little interest in other poetic forms. The pursuit was not poetry, but tanka; they read tanka and wrote tanka.

After a number of weeks, I believed I was beginning to understand their perspective. Tanka are, after all, in some ways a truly unique form of Japanese poetry; they have an age long tradition in Japan and stood as the unrivalled form of verse for over half a century. The tanka cannon overflows with great poems and poets; perhaps, their own tradition so rich and deep, tanka poets did not feel the need to look outside of tanka.

However, I was forced to abandon this supposition after a revealing exchange with one of my senpai, one of the leading members of the club, who regularly competes and wins tanka contests. As we walked together back to the station, he explained to me the difference between waka and tanka. Waka literally means Japanese poetry, but, due to the historic predominance of tanka, for a long time, it was used synonymously with the term tanka. My senpai employed the term to distinguish between old and new tanka. The scope of waka, the old tanka, was heavily confined by set conventions of diction and topic. In contrast, contemporary tanka is much freer, without any formal requirements save the 5-7-5-7-7 syllabic structure. After he had clarified the distinction, he told me I wrote in a very waka­-like style and would benefit from studying more contemporary tanka collections.

My senpai had unknowingly answered the question that had been troubling me. Indeed, I had always drawn my inspiration from the classical waka poets, aspiring to their lofty diction and keen seasonal awareness. Yet, no other member of the group was similarly motivated; I alone, it seemed, had believed in the continuity of the tradition; to the others, waka were no more than the works of poets from long ago, without any bearing on their own poetic practice.

I had my answer and indeed succeeded in presenting poems that spoke to the group, yet, if anything, I felt even more lost. I could no longer see why tanka was special, why these poets composed exclusively tanka. They do not see themselves as the last generation in a long line of tanka poets, yet nor did they see themselves as artists focused on a single mode of expression. I struggle to understand, but the struggle is interesting. One day, I will certainly find out what tanka mean to its poets.

Ife Samms: Female Musician Empowerment; Girl Band Power

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Leading GBP (Girl Band Power) for the past few months has certainly been a handful. Throughout this time, I have wanted to invite my band members into the song writing process, and although it seemed difficult for them to grasp at first, I hope that this time together was an eye-opening experience for all of them. As this has been a project with the goal of female-musician empowerment in Japan, I hope that these young women were able to find encouragement in their art, and expansion in their views of their roles as band members. This intimate time making music with these four women has opened my eyes to not only the time that truly goes into leading a band, but the dedication and love that the challenge inspires.

While I was at Binghamton University, I lead as the vocalist and bassist of a funk band called the Funkophiles. This funk band was a different animal than the type of band Girl Band Power has been. Funk, as a branch off of jazz, is heavily motivated by improvisation from its members, making rehearsals quite easy and straightforward. However, GBP’s members are comprised of musicians who have not been exposed to improvisation or to songwriting in a band setting. Although this posed a challenge, I took this as an opportunity to expand my own individual part-writing and arranging abilities, outside of rehearsal time, in order that I might relieve pressure from GBP’s members to write their own parts. Language, too, was a challenge, as I was given the chance to use Japanese to explain musical concepts for the first time. I was surprised, though, that our band members would always speak to me politely; as the second oldest member and leader, I felt their respect through the language they used with me.

Due to challenges like these, Girl Band Power certainly has not been a walk in the park. As a member, I have taken on the roles of keeping in contact with members to plan rehearsal times, booking the studios, creating and sending song files for our original pieces, as well as creating and sending the files’ accompanying sheet music. This band has been a full-time job, and with school, it has been difficult to keep up. Thank God, I have somehow been able to stay on top of the band goings-ons (while promoting our April 17th first-and-last concert) and have been encouraged that although the challenge of this band has touched all of its members, it has pushed us to reach a new level of artistry as musicians, and a new level of perseverance and hope through it all. To see the dedication that musicians in both America and Japan bring to the table is not only a testament to the power and passion music inspires, but it also illustrates to me the universal nature of music—it can be shared across countries and cultures without losing its strength.

Those who read this post will most likely join a community already established in Kyoto; however, even to those who will experience a CIP in general, I believe that the notion of “perseverance and hope” is an important factor in learning all you can learn, and in seeing the positive end to something that, at times, can be very trying. I am very grateful for this opportunity to lead a girl band as my CIP (in Japan of all places), and I am thankful for all of the encouragement and support I have received from friends and teachers, alike. This has been a life-changing, life-inspiring experience I will never forget. From here on, I look forward to our April 17th concert; I am ready to put it all out there, have a wildly fun time, and take home what I have learned, using it as another propelling and motivating stepping stone in my future as a musician for God (Love).

Daniel Hughes: English Teaching at Ohara Gakuin Elementary School

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Recently in B class, we have been discussing the recent changes to English education in Japan made by the Ministry of Education that dictate basic conversation and pronunciation will be taught starting from third grade instead of from fifth or sixth grade. Over the course of eight weeks I spent volunteering at Ohara Gakuin Elementary School, I was able to experience firsthand the effects this change has had on Japanese schoolchildren. Once a week, I worked alongside the teachers of Ohara Gakuin to teach basic English to students ranging from first to eight grade, and what I noticed was that when it comes to pronunciation and very basic grammar structures, the younger students who have grown up in the new system of teaching have a far better understanding than the older students.
The first week I visited Ohara Gakuin, I worked with first and second grade students whose pronunciation was astoundingly good. After spending a good deal of time with these students both in the classroom and during lunchtime, I enjoyed their enthusiasm for learning English and got to know them all very well. They were able to introduce themselves with basic English phrases such as “My name is…” and “My favorite color is…” and if I spoke slowly and carefully enough without using English grammar that was too complex, they were able to understand me without much help from the other teachers. We played games, sang songs, and from time to time I would read children’s picture books to them, which I was very surprised to learn they could nearly read themselves. Needless to say, the first and second graders of Ohara Gakuin are well on their way to becoming fluent in English if they continue learning the way they are currently. The older students, however, were a far different story.
After having spent the first week teaching the advanced first and second graders, I had expected the other grades to be of similarly advanced ability. However, before teaching the sixth and seventh graders in my second week, the Ohara teachers silently warned me that these students were not as quick to understand English as the younger students were. Having heard this, I expected the upperclassmen to have little to no proficiency in English, and so I was pleasantly surprised when I found them to be on par with what I would consider a normal level of ability for a middle school student. Like the first and second graders, they were able to introduce themselves fairly well and would even ask me questions like, “Can you swim?” and “Why did you come to Japan?” For the most part, they were able to understand my responses and were even able to ask well thought out follow-up questions. Having experienced this in the first few minutes of class, I wondered why the other teachers had told me these students were not necessarily as far along in their English learning as the younger students. However, once class started and I began using slightly more advanced English, the problems became very apparent to me.
Unlike the first and second graders, the upperclassmen had very little confidence when it came to pronunciation and sentence structure. At first I chalked it up to general middle-schooler malaise, and while that was certainly a part of it, it eventually became clear that the older students suffered in their English learning because of the drastically different teaching methods with which they had been taught. For example, whereas the first and second graders had the privilege of learning from a native English speaker three days out of the week as well as listening watching English movies and listening to English songs everyday, when the older students were in first and second grade they had only one day of hearing native English pronunciation, and rarely, if ever, watched movies or listened to songs. In my opinion, not being able to hear a native voice contributed to their lack of confidence when it comes to pronunciation, and their lack of interest in the continued study of English.
I fully accept the possibility that the younger students are more interested in learning the language simply because they are younger and full of much more energy than the middle-school age students, but I do think that the change in teaching methods greatly contributed to the change in English ability. The first and second graders have grown up learning English every day in school, and are greatly encouraged by the Ohara Gakuin teachers to use it as often as they can in their every day life. The older students had a different, less intense experience learning the language, and so are less inclined to put forth their best effort when it comes to being able to English. Whether or not any of this is actually true is something I can’t really prove, but if nothing else my experience at Ohara Gakuin has made me think that immersing students in English from a young age is the best way to teach it.
Observations aside, I had a great time teaching English at Ohara Gakuin Elementary School, and was sad to leave on my last day. I was, however, very happy to receive a lovely “thank you” poster from the younger students, whose well wishes and grateful goodbyes made it clear to me that I definitely want to become an English teacher in Japan. For any future KCJS students who are interested in English teaching, I cannot recommend Ohara Gakuin enough, and encourage you to spend your semester getting to know the lovely teachers and students of Ohara. As I left the school on my last day, “thank you” poster in hand, I had no doubt that I had become part of their community if only for a short while.

Gloria Kantungire: Klexon

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I am currently volunteering in the Klexon English Language Conversation group. Through Klexon, I’ve been met so many new people. In fact last weekend,I went to Fushimi Inari and Lake Biwako with a woman named Kahori, who I met at a Klexon Party. Klexon Parties are held at the director of the program’s home every other weekend. The Klexon programs that operate in Shiga and in Kyoto come together for one night for a language exchange over dinner and drinks. That night, there were only a few foreigners, so foreigners were dispersed among separate tables. Kahori is actually quite a bit older than I am, however she is rather outgoing and (surprisingly) loud, so it was easy for me to become friends with her at the party. She invited me to go see Lake Biwako with her that next weekend.

Through meeting new people every week, I’ve noticed a lot of subtle cultural differences between America and Japan. For example, at the Klexon party, I made the mistake of pouring myself another drink. In Japan, it is customary for others to pour your drink for you. Since I was foreign, I was considered a “guest” of the country, which perhaps made it more imperative for Japanese people to pour my drink. Kahori explained to me that pouring a drink for yourself appears quite lonely, and the culture of pouring a drink for others is just another way for people to connect with one another.

Another difference I noticed was the gestures. Gestures in America can be are completely different from gestures in Japan. Most Americans when signaling someone to “come over here” will usually wave a person over with their palms facing upwards. When I was in Osaka with a friend from DESA (Doshisha Exchange Student Association), who offered to show me around Shinsaibashi, we were standing in front of a crepe store waiting for our crepe to be prepared. Unfortunately, I had been standing in the way of other people who also wanted crepes. He gestured for me to come closer, and away from the front of the store. However, he did so with palms facing down. In Japan, people signal “come here” with their palms facing downward.  Also that the American gesture for “kind of” or “a little” is gestured with palms facing downward and rotating your wrist up and down. When I asked Kahori later on whether or not she’s seen or used the American gestures for “come here” and ” a little”, she answered that Japanese people might see the American “come here” as a signal for a dog, rather than a person. Also Japanese people will signify “a little” with their thumb and index finger pinching together, while the American version of the gesture be seen as a rejecting hand motion in Japan.

Through Klexon, I’ve been able to practice my Japanese, and at the same time learn more about Japanese culture through observing the people I meet every week.

Kim Coombes: Teaching English at Kozmoz Cafe

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I recently had to change my CIP due to scheduling conflicts, so now I am teaching English at Kozmoz Café in Momoyama. I have been doing it for a few weeks now and am greatly enjoying it. I am able to engage with Japanese people of all ages. I have the pleasure of teaching classes to adults as well as children. It is amazing to see how dedicated Japanese students are to their studies. As part of the adult’s lesson plan, they must keep a weekly diary and write about one event that occurred. Many of the adult students write pages of information so the teachers can correct them! Watching how hard Japanese students study has given me motivation to work harder at my Japanese studies.
Aside from having the pleasure of meeting Japanese people, as a teacher, my Japanese is constantly being reinforced by the lessons. Both children and adult will commonly repeat a question I asked them in English, in Japanese to me to confirm they understand. By doing this I get to hear their Japanese as well as check their understanding. After lessons I am able to speak with Japanese people and practice my Japanese a bit.
Teaching English has helped me feel more comfortable within Japanese society because I am constantly engaging with Japanese people. As a shy person, I have been able to use my classes as a way to engage Japanese people. By finding out what is popular and interesting to them, I am able to talk to more students at Doshisha and can hold more interesting and relatable conversations in Japanese.
Kozmoz Cafe is a non-profit organization and I really enjoying volunteering there. They run food banks as well as teach English classes. They also hold parties and events for their students. If there is ever any interest in volunteering there feel free to email me!

Catherine Alexander: Historical Sightseeing Circle

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This semester for my CIP I participated in Doshisha’s Historical Sightseeing Circle. In　this circle we learn about Kyoto’s many historical site and then visit in person as a group. Typically, after the planned visit to a historical site, everyone will go out to eat together. Also, because Kyoto is filled with sightseeing spots, we will often stop by shines and temples on our way to and from our main destination. Overall, this circle is a good opportunity to get to know a little more about Kyoto.

Besides the learning experience, I also feel that this circle taught me more about group dynamics in Japan. The biggest thing I realized was how the circle was divided by gender and age. In this particular circle, most of the first years were girls, so it was difficult to tell which factor was stronger; however it seemed like within the circle students tended to speak more with those who were the same age and gender. I wasn’t too surprised at this, because I’ve learned that age is important in Japanese society, but in comparison to America, where students normally group around major or common interests, I found it interesting. I myself, didn’t feel like a part of any of the gender or age groups, and normally switched around between them. As in a lot of cases, being a foreigner trumps other social classifications. However, I never really made an effort to stay with the others in my age group or gender, so things might have been different if I had.

The Historical Sightseeing Circle was a good experience, and I recommend it a CIP for those interested in Kyoto’s history. My advice for CIPs as a whole is to find something you enjoy doing!

Saminya Bangura: KLEXON

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For my CIP, I’ve been attending the Kyoto Language Exchange Salon (or KLEXON) in Shijo once a week. While I didn’t get to practice a lot of Japanese language, it has still been an incredible experience that has allowed me to learn a lot about the Japanese culture and even make a few friends!

Of all the things I experienced during my time at KLEXON, what’s stuck with me the most was an experience I had at one of the parties. Once a month, there is a dinner party that brings two or three language circles in the area together and on my first time there, I was surprised to have so many members (from both my circle and the others) insist on serving me drinks and food. From the moment I began studying Japanese, the importance of the senpai-kouhai relationship was often emphasized and I had always assumed that, regardless of the context, it would stand firm. However, despite my being the youngest and newest member of the circle at my table, I was served throughout the night and when I attempted to do it in exchange, I was refused, which confused me more than it hurt my feelings.

I had to wonder if my being a foreigner somehow made me exempt from the usual rules that steer Japanese club dynamics. Perhaps because the members know that my time in the club is temporary, they were choosing to treat me more like a guest than a member; so the rules of senpai and kouhai (which I do see employed when other members interact) didn’t apply. I attempted to face this by becoming involved with the group on a more personal level so that even if they knew of my transience, I could still be accepted as a permanent member based on my social presence. This involved attending more events outside of meetings (like the parties) and following through on friendships when I received LINE IDs or Facebooks. But, in the end, there was no real change over the course the semester; I was still being treated like a guest even two and a half months in.

Eventually, I came to realize that this phenomenon wasn’t of any fault of my own. I was struggling to enter the uchi of KLEXON when there was no real uchi in the first place. Though there are a group of regular members that attend meetings every single week, KLEXON’s relatively lax structure, lack of set policies regarding attendance and older membership meant that some people might go weeks without coming to a meeting. And as a result, there was no concrete group mentality; individual members might forge friendships but there was no real sense of a bond between the group as a whole. Therefore, what I thought was a senpai and kouhai interaction forged by club members might have just been a manifestation of the general idea of respecting senior members in your field or elders.

I think that my experience would’ve been much different had I been involved in a CIP with more people my age, especially on a college campus. College clubs tend to be more structured (and, as a result, more stressful) but that often results in getting closer to your peers and creating a sense of uchi. Nonetheless, I enjoyed every minute of being in KLEXON; it was fascinating to get a glimpse into interactions between shakai-jin (especially the businessmen) and experience a club that was driven and shaped by them more than anyone else.