Helpful Teaching Techniques

Several strategies T can use when T wants SS to say something.   

-  an antonym 

- Whispering 

- so? with raising intonation 

- lip movements 

- gestures 

Facing my own weakness in teaching 1

During the training at ECC - at a language school, my weaknesses are revealed.  There are some issues that hinder efficient teaching and learning in my classroom.
1. Uncontrolled  presentation of passion. Ironically, my eagerness to communicate SS blinds me during a lesson. I tend to be beside myself when  I'm nervous or having too much fun.
2. Limitation for image memorization. I cannot learn from visual input. Logic, abstraction, and language are tools for me when I acquire skills and knowledge. I am incapable of see what's going on in front of me without thinking, and imitate what I see (or hear) without analyzing or occupied with other thoughts. To be present is what I  lack. There are some teaching skills that can be best  learned seeing and imitating and makes them a  routine. Such as the procedure of a lesson.
3. Carelessness and restlessness . I neglect paying attention to what my lesson appear to be. I don't care much for outfit and make-up I wear. WB writing is always messy. My talk is not smooth and doesn't sounds confident. I don't look calm as the way I move is absent minded. I don't hold a picture when SS have to look at it. SS will think that my teaching is not well prepared and I'm not a qualified teacher.

In class, i don't do what SS want me to do but  what I want to do.

Teacher Training at ECC

I applied for two departments in a one of the most successful language school in Japan. I've got accepted in the department specialized in English lessons at office. They contract for lessons from a company and offer teaching positions to part time teachers. I took training for conversational class and am waiting for another training for TOEIC preparation class. I've got a job offer and will start teaching April 9th. The other department runs 175 language schools all over the country. I passed the first screening, took  training that would last six days - 3.5 hour each day, and failed the test on the fifth day. It's sad I missed further training opportunity but I'm pretty happy that I did my best.
Both training are eye-opening experiences. The reason is:
1. I got to know very ambitious charming women  with talent and nice personality.
2. The instructor on Hojin Department, which offers lessons at office- made us realize precious nature of teaching profession. Joe the trainer showed us techniques for eliciting from SS and maximizing SS's learning. Expectation is growing that I may regain my passion for teaching.
3. Mick, the second trainer, showed techniques that make lesson flow. I also learned to memorize things with images. More than teaching skills, I appreciate the training and the failed test showed my weakness in the most clear way.

Bow to Where?

Here comes again. A middle-aged woman at a coffee shop counter bowed deeply enough to bend her body to almost 60 degrees just after she gave me a change. As I heard the synchronized utterance “arigato gozaimashita (thank you sir or madam )”, I felt slightly insulted. I only bought a cup of coffee that costs \230 – $ 3 or less – with an intention to sit at a table for a couple of hours using PC while drinking more glasses of water than coffee. I did not deserve the politeness she had shown at all. Still I had no other choice than see her go on attending the next customers in the same way.

This is not an isolated case. A manager of Kentucky Fried Chicken – maybe in his fifties - ran to open the door for me as I left the store where I had ordered the cheapest combo and stayed for an hour. Just for your information, I was in torn jeans and shaggy T-shirt without any makeup so there was no way my appearance attracted him. As I saw him bow deep and heard him exclaim “arigato gozaimashita. mata okoshi kudasai” (thank you for coming and we are looking forward to your next visit), I said to myself oh man… With strakes of silver hair on his head and wrinkles around his eyes, he was surely senior to me. He offered submissive hospitality with a manner in which a slave would show his master. Did he think that were I not satisfied with his service, I would whip him?  I was just one first food restaurant customer and wanted to be treated likewise.

While I was away from Japan, cashers at Daiso -Japanese one dollar shop - - started greeting to customers with a deep 60 degree bow. What makes it more hopeless is their hands placed gently together on their lower chest. This bow is the politest form and should be shown at a fancy hotel or an expensive restaurant. Can you imagine how embarrassed I am when I just buy a hundred-yen item? I do not need to feel like a billionaire at Daiso.

It seems that every each one in the service industry thinks the more they are polite the more they can attract customers. This pathetic competition for politeness has been under way for more than a decade. Probably it reached its peak while I was in the US.  That is why I feel uneasy with the changes while other people in Japan take the excessive display for granted. Giving that, too much is too much. Uncomfortable chills run when I encounter an over-killing service. Their attitude and the choice of words are supposed to show the maximum hospitality and gratitude. It is irritating that people are no more aware of the meaning of the gestures and just follow the established routine. Then the ritual becomes empty. Meaningless remarks and smiles reached the level of disgusting. It makes me wonder where this futile rat race is heading.

It is not only for politeness. In Japan, many aimless hardworking are heated around a minor issue in a closed market. I hope that people are not sharpening their competitive edge only to injure themselves.

Choices of Dressing

“I should have learned the lesson by now”, I said to myself, when a waitress brought me “morning service” I had asked for. In Japan, nearly all coffee shops offer “morning service” in the morning. You do not have to roll your eyes when you see a sign at each coffee shop say “morning service, 7:30 aｍ to 11:00, at 480 yen.” A Japanese coffee shop does not function as a local religious center but provides a breakfast special at a friendly price. Usually, this generous meal comes with a toasted slice of bread, a boiled egg, and a drink. While this simplest “morning set” costs just as much as a cup of coffee or tea - mostly 350 yen to 450 yen, the escalated competition among coffee shops has fired up fussing creation of new “sets” at higher prices. Morning Set A at \630: half sandwich, mini salad, fruit with coffee or tea, Morning Set B - 530 yen : a slice of tasted bread, scrambled egg and salad with coffee or tea or  Morning Set C: pizza toast, salad and yogurt and fruit with coffee of tea. Drink is served by a cup (not a mug cup ) on a saucer and coffee is freshly brewed (not stored in cermo). It is a joy to see the white buttery inside of a toasted slice of bread cut into halves. The happiness goes on until a new pleasant experience overwrites it as I bite on the crispy outside. The meal would be blessing if I did not see a small bowl of salad - thinly sliced cabbage on lettuce with a small wedge of tomato and a couple of slices of cucumber – neatly arranged but covered thin layer of dressing.

When I order morning service or other kinds of meal, a waitress does not ask which dressing I prefer but the salad is served with thin layer of dressing that is the only choice they can offer and which is often the one of my least favorite flavor. Most restaurants, coffee shops or café do not care for the customer’ right of choosing a dressing and many customers are just happy with what is served. It they are not, they just leave it uneaten without any complaint.

Two years have passed since my return to Japan. Yet I am still frustrated by the lack of choice here in Japan. People consciously make a choice in US even with a small thing as in dressing. During my 6 year stay in California, the duty of choice was bothering at the beginning but I came to appreciate the right to choose. So this morning, I was not happy that the waitress had not asked me to make a choice no less than that I had not asked for the right to choose. The lack of dressing choice is symbolic of cultural differences. I am afraid the unsettling feeling I still manage to keep will be teamed eventually. Maybe it is time to write it down. Now or never.

Voices that Annoyed Me

During the first couple of months, listening to radio was a torture as I had hard time digesting a voice from various kinds of people spoken in Japanese. It became another source for an argument between me and my husband, who habitually turns on radio while he drives. Often I urged him to turn the radio off but he did not understand what bothered me. After some exchanges of a begging and a refusal, it settled on his lowering the volume and my stopping nagging. One day, during an unpleasant silence caused by this routine, I closed my eyes to contemplate what was going on with me.

I was annoyed only when a radio personality spoke in Japanese. No announcers who spoke in an impersonal but accurate manner bothered me so much.    When I watched radio, I was not bothered either. Uncontrollable irritation emerged against the one from radio only when it was Japanese. In some stations, a short English remark was inserted occasionally such se “this is a whole earth station – FM Kokoro.” Strange enough, it was not annoying. I certainly held the familiarity to English speech in which I used to bathed myself. Given that, there was still something else wrong with my perception toward Japanese speeches.

I heard a young man from a Rock station and his voice got to my nerved. As he responded his listeners’ request and made some friendly comments in a cheerful high-pitched sweet voice, he sounded insincere. This negative feeling urged me to make endless and vicious guesses upon his private life. Probably, he would not be loyal to his wife or his girlfriend. The womanizer might go on cheating his partner since he could continuously hook a new woman saying he was a host of a radio show. What a buster!

 In the same program, I could also hear a young female voice who co-hosted the same program. Her voice sounded unnecessarily flattering. My prompt assumption was her female friends would not like her because she was only nice to men. Or maybe only her voice sounded pretty. Out of the radio life, no one pay much attention and she could have a lonely miserable life. How pathetic!

From a classical music program floated out a middle-aged male voice – low deep and soft. Many people would find it attractive but I thought it snobby and hypocritical. Maybe he would wear a tweed jacket and put a matched handkerchief in the front pocket. He should be the only person who thought it was cool. Despite his gentle intelligent appearance, his mind could be occupied cunning plots. Stay a way from him!    

I was almost drawn in the flood of Japanese speech that gave me clear clues for a speaker. The voice spoken in my native language stirred up so many thoughts in my brain that I felt overwhelmed and dizzy. Visual information from TV distracted me not to trap into delusional thoughts but audio inputs unpleasantly kept tapping upon my imagination. How come did it happen? Further contemplation led me to a discovery: this unpleasant reaction against spoken Japanese evidenced the existence of a skill I had failed to attain in English.

 During my stay in the US, I merged myself English speaking environment. For the first couple of years, I felt miserable when I turned on a radio. It took only five minutes until I lost my focus and radio talks became a meaningless buzz. Through slow desperate struggles, I gradually develop my listening comprehension skills. Five minutes became 5 minutes in a month. It took another few months to reach 10 minutes. Maybe a year had passed before I could expand my limit to 30 minutes. In the third year, I was thrilled to realize I was driving and listening to the radio and picked up a necessary part of traffic information. Thereafter a couple of radio programs in PBS become my favorite. It was a joy to come to have some favorite radio programs. However it always took some efforts to keep listening. Often times a part of (or most of) a speech sounded clueless and it did not make sense to me. Always there were words I did not know. Even at the intimate moment of my relationship with audio media, I was occupied with sound and semantic process. I was slow to go beyond. Should radio be my girlfriend, I was a terrible boy friend. I would have been yelled. “Why couldn’t you pick up what I ment but didn’t tell you!”

But with Japanese, I can be a careful experienced female company who can read between lines. Speech gives me a lot of clues. I can tell the speaker’s personal background such as a hometown, educations and a social class. It also helps me to conjure the personality of a speaker, scan the mood of the day, and probe hidden feelings. Though not always correct, the guesses gave me a confidence.

So a shift in role from an indifferent boy friend to an attentive female listener was so drastic for me to bear when I started exercising sealed social skills on my return to Japan. It was like I had been blindfolded for a while and it was taken suddenly in daylight. The sunshine is too glittering to face. I felt overwhelmed and wanted come back to the comfortable darkness – to the ignorant safety.

How to identify a person as a member in a society is a set of skills. Only through a long mostly-unconscious learning process, you can tell what the person means in the reality. It takes social trainings and experiences. Unfortunately I have not acquired that skill in English being busy matching a sound and its lexicon.

Living in a second language spoken society is similar to residing in a small cubic flame covered by lace curtains. They do not block the inner space from the outside view completely and let in some light. As the sunshine rise, an inner resident can get a clearer picture but never get vivid information as the people who was born and grown up out side of the cubic. But the separation cuddles the innocent captive beneath a warm blanket while the bare reality sometimes freezes outer habitants with their gained knowledge. “Turn off the radio” was a cry from a baby-wanna-be who had been suspended from growing mature while having probation in another world in the US.

 One mystery reminds: why did my husband not mind listening the radio? Well maybe he was born and raised as a man – from the Mars. We can not regain what we have not had, can’t we?

Welcome Back, Marie!

I was back in California for 10 Days from 1/23/2012 through 2/4/2010. The following is a journal on the second day of my trip.

The next day after I arrived in Bay Area, I had a short walk around a friend’s house in Sunnyvale. It was a fine clear morning. As chilly morning air made my mind clearer, I felt good. Looking up, there was a blue California Sky. The brisk wind said to me, "well come back." The sun, though it was too bright to face, hugged me. Yeah! I am in Bay Area again!

Houses with a larger garden. Higher trees trimmed not so neatly as in Japan. Streets with wide pedestrian roads. All looked totally different from the Japanese town I left a day ago. It’s not dense at all. Even the sky looked wider. I realized this opened scenery was I had been craving for.

It looked familiar. It stays all the same. In fact only one year and four months had passed. But it seemed to be much longer. Walking along the street was extraordinary but felt normal. I enjoyed conflictions. Different but familiar. Special and usual. Out of the rut but on the routine, as if I was in a parallel universe. I heard the clear voice in my mind. I still belong here.

As I walk to Sunnyvale Downtown, I started smiling. I felt my spine was straightened up. The shoulder stiffness had gone. As my chest opened more, the breathing got deeper and easier. I was inhaling freedom.

A man was jogging toward me. I smiled and said hello to him. So he did to me. I felt awkward but confident. In Japan, I tried hard to get rid of this greeting habit. It was like another me surged to take over the role to respond properly. This me had disappeared for a while as if it was diving into the deep see and hidden in a dark cave. Now then the California sunlight reached the den and lured it up on the surface again. Welcome back, Marie! I’m happy you are still alive!