Importing Diversity: Inside Japan's JET Program (34 page)

Prefectural officials, of course, must turn the assistant language teachers
over to school-based personnel, and it is at the school level where the symbolic agreement, so easy to maintain when the concept of "internationalization" is fairly abstract, really begins to break down. Japanese schools,
like their counterparts elsewhere, often elude the administrative reach of
national and prefectural policies. They are also quite different in many
ways from secondary schools in the ALTs' home countries. Most Japanese
secondary schools display close daily cooperation and interaction between
teachers centering on twin goals: preparing for entrance exams and socializing students toward norms of group process. By the standards of this environment, the ALTs often behave very poorly, because their cultural assumptions lead them to view the goals of education in general, and the
meaning of internationalization in particular, somewhat differently. Consequently, their presence in schools requires a delicate balancing act on the
part of Japanese teachers who are eager to ensure that the ALTs have a
pleasant stay but also need to shield themselves and their students from
the undesirable effects of the ALTs' presence. In the early years it was not
uncommon to hear JTLs half jokingly refer to the JET Program as "the second coming of the black ships" (kurofune raishu), drawing a parallel with
Commodore William Perry's uninvited "opening" of Japan to Western
trade in 1854.

Yet despite the shared administrative and normative framework for
public secondary education, individual schools vary considerably in atmosphere. One of the most remarkable features of the JET Program is its capacity for transporting participants past the stereotypes of Japanese education; if there is one refrain that is sung by every ALT, it is "no two JET
experiences are alike." In chapter 4, we considered how such differences be tween small mountain village and city, between academic and commercial
school, can lead to complaints by participants; but they can also underscore
the richness of the system. This variation within public secondary education is all the more significant because it is routinely ignored by the Western media.

This chapter examines both the cultural patterning of and the diversity in school-level responses to the ALTs. In many ways, an ALT arriving at a local school can be likened to a stranger being brought into a preexisting culture. What are the cultural rules governing this process, and
what are the possible social dramas that can unfold? How do persons with
radically different cognitive frameworks interact when they are asked to
work together on a short-term project? I begin with several vignettes:
while they by no means cover the range of JET experiences, they start to
address the challenging question of how ALTs can have such radically
different "Japan experiences" in a culture that has long been portrayed as
homogeneous.

NISHIKAWA: AN ACADEMIC HIGH SCHOOL

Early in 1989 the principal of Nishikawa High School received word from
Sato-sensei that his school would be asked to serve as a base school for an
ALT beginning in August. Up to that point, Nishikawa had only been visited one day a week, but the numbers of JET participants had expanded.
Would the principal bring this matter to the attention of the head English
teacher and secure the approval of the entire English teaching staff? The
principal called in Hayano-sensei, an energetic and savvy teacher who
served as head of both career guidance and the English department, and the
two of them discussed the problem.

Founded in 1982 and accommodating roughly 1,500 students annually,
Nishikawa was one of the newest and most rigorous academic schools in
the prefecture. Nestled amid rice fields in a suburban community approximately fifteen miles from the capital city, it was the flagship of the prefectural project to improve performance on university entrance exams; the
public schools were competing fiercely with the private high schools in the
prefecture. This determination to fashion an academic reputation was
manifest in a number of ways. Each year the school held an open house for
prospective students and their parents; nearly i,ooo people attended in
1989. The annual Culture Festival (Bunkasai), an important schoolwide activity showcasing students' artistic and musical talents to parents and
guests, had been renamed "Cultural Event" (Bunkateki Gyoji) in the hopes that students would view it as a serious learning experience rather than
simply a carnival; preparations began weeks in advance. Similarly, the annual school trip eschewed popular destinations such as Tokyo Disneyland
or ski resorts in favor of more intellectually stimulating venues. The school
allowed nearly a quarter of its students to leave for after-school classes
(juku) immediately after sixth period, missing homeroom, cleaning, and
club activities. Hayano-sensei even told me that shortly after the Ministry
of Education decreed that public schools would close for the first and third
Saturday of each month, Nishikawa's twelfth graders began coming to
school on Sundays for special review sessions. "We have to keep the curtains pulled," Hayano-sensei confessed, "because the media will have a
field day if they find out about this."'

The presence of an ALT would take away valuable time from entrance
exam study as well as constantly threaten to embarrass the majority of the
Japanese teachers of language, whose spoken English skills were limited.
Thus, when Hayano-sensei presented the board of education's request, he
was not surprised that the English teachers fell completely silent. But isolationism was not an option: the long-term viability of Nishikawa depended on acquiring base school know-how. The principal and head of curriculum lobbied to consent to hosting an ALT and Hayano-sensei returned
to the English faculty with the verdict: "In the present climate of internationalization," he declared, "this is a must (masuto)."z

Out of a staff of twelve full-time and three part-time English faculty,
only Ueda-sensei was genuinely enthusiastic at the prospect. Hayanosensei knew he could count on three others-Kawakami-sensei, Kuwano-
sensei, and Ikuno-sensei-for varying degrees of support, but that left
seven of the full-time faculty dragging their heels. But the decision to be a
base school had been made, and Hayano-sensei stressed the importance of
all English faculty being "in step" (ashinami wo sorou) as they implemented it. He appointed Ueda-sensei to be overall coordinator of the ALT's
visit (ALT tanto). This proved to be a masterful move. An experienced and
dedicated teacher possessing a rare combination of wisdom, perspective,
and empathy, Ueda-sensei was deeply respected by both students and faculty. Moreover, even though he was extremely busy as head of the health
section and constantly involved in counseling students who were suffering
from academic and social stress, he was truly excited about hosting an ALT.

Under the watchful eye of Hayano-sensei and the pragmatic, down-toearth leadership of Ueda-sensei, the English faculty began preparing for
hosting the ALT. No fewer than six informal positions were created for
overseeing various dimensions of the ALT's visit: head of orientation and settling in, counselor, coordinator of the team-teaching schedule, administrative liaison with the board of education, chair of the welcome party and
other special events, and coordinator of a once-a-month discussion group
(kenshukai) for the English teaching staff. Three teachers visited another
high school in the prefecture with a long history of international involvement and attended an informational meeting held by the prefectural board
of education, in both cases receiving valuable pointers on how to be an effective base school. This pertained both to practical administrative tips on
finding housing and helping the foreigner to adjust and to more subjective
matters-in particular, advice on the importance of integrating the ALT
into school routines, on keeping tabs on the ALT's emotional and mental
state, and on making sure that the ALT was well aware of his or her specific
role (ichizuke) within the overall academic and social curriculum.

Finally, in July, the vital information about Nishikawa's ALT arrived
from Sato-sensei. They would host a twenty-two-year-old British woman,
Karen Chambers, who had taken a degree in English literature and German
at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland. According to Karen's application, which was circulated around the teacher's room along with her photo,
her coming to Japan stemmed primarily from a desire to travel and to experience different cultures. Her Japanese language skills were negligible.
Over the next few weeks, the two hottest topics among the English teachers were Karen's nationality and gender.

Karen's actual arrival was somewhat anticlimactic; because it coincided
with a four-week summer vacation, the teacher's room was largely vacant
during her first few weeks. Though some ALTs have complained bitterly
about the boredom of the first few weeks, Karen was relieved to have a chance
to settle in before her teaching responsibilities began. In a farewell letter two
years later, Karen recalled: "I remember Sato-sensei saying to me at the prefectural orientation, 'That's your supervisor, Ueda-sensei, over there.' I
turned around and faced about thirty Japanese men-I had no idea who he
was talking about and I was very nervous! After that, August is a blur of new
experiences. My apartment ('How small!' I thought); eating somen [noodles]
in the office while everyone watched me using chopsticks; a hot teacher's
room; cycling to work through rice fields; and lots of official forms." Karen's
apartment was small but adequate: two six-mat tatami rooms, a small dining
room, bath, and flush toilet. Perched on the edge of a small rice paddy, it was
a convenient five-minute bike ride to the school or to the train station.

Karen was especially appreciative of the warmth and kindness exhibited
by the faculty at Nishikawa. Shortly after the school year began, the English faculty threw her a welcome party at an expensive restaurant. Her picture and self-introduction appeared in the school newspaper. "I'm so
lucky to have come to such a great school," she kept exclaiming during the
first few months. Karen was also assigned to visit the neighboring school,
Yamagi High School, on Mondays and Thursdays, and happily discovered
that Yamagi teachers were much more laid back than Nishikawa's. She
soon settled into a weekly routine. Even her first experiences team teaching were positive, and she quickly overcame her fear of being unqualified.
"This job certainly doesn't take much brains," she told me two months into
her stay. "[All I have to do is] talk about myself. 'I have a brother ..."'

The one thing that caused Karen concern early on was the lack of privacy. Shortly into her stay, she complained, "Last week I went into the city
with another ALT, and one of the students saw us and must've told one of
the teachers at my visit school. She asked me if I was with my boyfriend.
What I do in private is none of their business. It's like, if I cough in the
teacher's room, everyone knows it." Karen's interpretation of this treatment was that she was singled out because she was a foreigner, and she
began warning teachers and students against using the label "gaijin." Yet
Karen also fairly forcefully espoused respect for all cultures. "I think if we
can realize that at heart we are all the same, no matter where we come from
or what race we are, then we will have taken a great step towards true understanding," she once told me. Though perhaps somewhat naive, this view
did lead her to downplay what she saw as negative in Japanese culture and
accentuate the positive. She began studying the Japanese language and was
a regular participant in the evening Japanese classes taught by Sato-sensei
and Tanabe-san. She enjoyed experimenting with all kinds of Japanese
foods, and she took calligraphy classes for a good part of her stay. She used
her vacation time to visit famous historical spots in Japan (and even
Korea), and on her return she wrote summaries for her English classes of
her impressions of such places as the Hiroshima Peace Park. In many ways,
then, Karen epitomized the type of young person national-level officials
envisioned as an ideal JET participant.

Integration into School Routines

Japanese schools have been praised for what they accomplish not only academically but socially. At the heart of every high school in Japan is a
simple set of activities, all supervised by faculty: classes, special events,
and after-school programs. Like most Japanese schools Nishikawa was organized with the teachers' room as its hub, a central station from which
teachers ventured out to the classrooms for their specific lessons. Indeed, the overall architecture had been designed with student guidance in
mind. The school looked like a hollowed-out, three-story cube with a garden in the middle, but the teacher's room was perched right by the window on the second floor, affording an unobstructed view of hallways
throughout the school. Desks in the teachers' room, too, were arranged to
facilitate student guidance and school management; the homeroom teachers of each grade all sat in their own clusters and in another grouping sat
teachers who had positions in the "school affairs" division (gy(5mubu).
Nishikawa also had a half dozen part-time teachers who shared several
desks at the end of one cluster, and it was here that Karen sat. Her desk
placement thus carried both a symbolic and pragmatic value: placing her
with the part-time teachers symbolized her marginality in terms of the
overall administration of the school, but it also ensured that none of the
Japanese staff would have to shoulder the burden of sitting by Karen and
speaking English to her regularly.

While the atmosphere in the teachers' room varies tremendously from
school to school, Nishikawa's large size, academic prestige, and leaders dedicated to protocol made for a very formal and businesslike place.' Students
here, unlike in many junior high schools, rarely entered the teachers'
room, and any conversation among faculty occurred in full view of others-most particularly that of the stern vice-principal, whose desk, tucked
in a corner, overlooked the entire room. The lack of privacy made the JTLs
rather self-conscious about speaking English with Karen. In part, they
were worried about being misunderstood or, conversely, not understanding
what Karen said. But they also feared being poked fun at, on the one hand,
or being accused of showing off their English, on the other. Even Uedasensei admitted, "I'm careful not to speak too much English when other
teachers are around, but if it's just the two of us I enjoy speaking English a
lot." JTLs rationalized their reluctance in other ways as well. Akamatsu-
sensei confessed one of the reasons it was so hard to approach Karen was
the fear that they would have nothing to talk about (wadai ga tsukunai):
"We always worry about that when talking with foreigners." Kawakamisensei told me that Karen became so engrossed in preparing class materials
at her desk that the other teachers worried they would be bothering her if
they interrupted.