I wasn’t sure what to expect when I finalized my plan to volunteer at Ohara Gakuen. I was worried that with my limited Japanese, especially in using keigo, I may not be excepted. Nervous and confused, I went to meet with the English teachers and principal. I left Ohara that day feeling that I would be not only accepted, but also appreciated.<\/p>\n
The first unexpected thing that I noticed was that all of the staff treated me as an adult. Being nineteen, I’m just barely considered independent in America, and certainly not in Japan. However, as I was held to a high standard of responsibility, and I found myself naturally rising in an attempt to meet expectations.<\/p>\n
Though they were clearly pleased with the fact that I was there, they were rightfully worried about presenting me correctly to the students. Having many food allergies, I couldn’t always eat all the food that the kids ate, and I was surprised by how important it was to explain to the children that the only reason I wasn’t eating was because I could get hurt – not because I didn’t like the food. I was a bit surprised, because I didn’t think that the kids would have a difficult time understanding this, but, to the teachers, it seemed to be something important to overcome.<\/p>\n
Another hardship for me personally, was switching between English and Japanese so frequently. I’ve had trouble with this in America as well, when talking with a Japanese friend and an American friend at the same time. I was asked to just use English with the students, and I did whenever I could, but there were many times when I had to use Japanese to explain something more complicated, and when I spoke to the teachers. Especially with the younger kids, it ended up being more of me asking about their English in Japanese.<\/p>\n
The younger children speak in such small voices that it didn’t matter if I would understand their Japanese, because I couldn’t hear them at all. I didn’t want them to shy away from me when communication problems arose, so I attempted to answer them even when I didn’t hear what they said. This is tough to do in your mother tongue. Together with my lack of Japanese fluency, and having no context for the conversation I was having, the kids would often stare at me blankly, obviously having not understood a word I just said. Even so, when I did say a sentence or two, they were wildly surprised and delighted. One boy asked me a question, and I explained to him as best I could. When I was through, he stared at me with his mouth open. I started trying to rephrase what I said, because obviously my Japanese wasn’t up to par, but after a moment of silence he exclaimed, “Wow! She can speak Japanese!” He seemed to have no interest at all in the answer to the question. I wonder, if he was so surprised, did he expect to just not understand my answer, and go along his marry way after he’d asked the question? Either way, I appreciated his enthusiasm and his cuteness was astounding.<\/p>\n
But just in case matters weren’t complicated enough, there was one more barrier to communication that I was surprised to find. In one case, I used the word “novel” while explaining my hobbies to the first graders. The student immediately responded, “What’s a novel?” Caught off guard, and trying to remember if that was indeed the Japanese word for novel, I didn’t respond at first, eventually stuttering out “N-novel?” in hopes that this time around I would say it correctly. The little girl ran over to the teacher and repeated the question. “A novel is a story,” the teacher answered, and the girl, who had since lost focus on the conversation we were having, trotted off to play with everyone. That was an experience I never thought I’d have.<\/p>\n
The one downfall of it all, is that I don’t feel as though I’ve done all I can for Ohara. I would attempt to assist in lessons, teach pronunciation, and talk to the students, but I was unequipped to do the latter. I had never been to a Japanese middle school, and I certainly hadn’t studied the English education system for that region of Japan, so I was completely amiss as to how much English a student knew. Then there’s the individual difference between each student. I only ever had the chance to have a few sentenced conversation with any individual student, because the school was large and there was only one of me. And in that conversation, I couldn’t overcome the student’s shyness, gauge how much English they knew, and then make up a conversation that uses their level of English so that they could practice. In that way, I wish I had more time with them, I would have learned more, an I believe I maybe could have had more of an impact on them too.<\/p>\n
Some of what I predicted was true; there were levels of formality and structure that I was foreign to, and needed to work hard to overcome. And a lot of what I feared turned out to be just fine. My confidence wavered throughout the program, as I battled with things I thought could be better, and melted as the kids became more and more animated about talking to me and learning about a foreign culture. But in the end, the hour commute to Oohara every week was not something that I dreaded, it was in fact something that looked forward to. On the long bus ride into the mountains, I could feel my eagerness and excitement swelling in me. Even if I had had a terrible experience on every other day, in every other class, it would all be worth it for what one first grader said as I entered the room. \u300c\u30ec\u30a4\u5148\u751f\u3000\u6765\u3066\u304f\u308c\u305f\uff01\u300d”Ms. Rei came for us!” The feeling in my heart that that one little boy drew out, was worth everything in the world.<\/p>\n
Thank you Oohara, it’s hard to say good-bye.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I wasn’t sure what to expect when I finalized my plan to volunteer at Ohara Gakuen. I was worried that w … \u7d9a\u304d\u3092\u8aad\u3080