Showing posts with label KAPIC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label KAPIC. Show all posts

Sunday, April 11, 2010

English Camp at KAPIC



April 11, 2010

The day of my farewell party, March 26th, was also the first official day of spring break—for the students. Teachers are still required to come to work. For ALTs, this usually means sitting at our desk trying to keep ourselves amused for seven hours a day, while all the “real” teachers scramble around preparing for the new school year. This time, however, Matt and I volunteered at an English camp to take place at the Kanoya Asia Pacific International Center, otherwise known as KAPIC.

Ah, KAPIC, that magical oasis near the lake, with its pastel-colored Asian museum and its confusing passage of stairs. I had done a summer camp here once before with Shibushi Junior High School, but this camp was more generally geared to any interested junior high or high school student. The director of the camp was named Sakura. She told us ALTs that she was the only one allowed to speak Japanese to the students. The rest of us, no matter the level, had to feign ignorance.

Of course, it’s always ideal for us to speak to the students in English as much as possible. But in my case, it proved to be difficult. Matt and I were paired up to look after a group of six 13 year old girls: Nanami, Chiaki, Haruka, Azumi, Mayu, and Yui. These girls had only been exposed to one year of English, so their level was pretty low. The task Matt and I were given: help the students that research a foreign country and present that information in English at the end of camp. We had three days.

This sounds simple, but let me put it this way. The first day, after the students chose a country (France), they had to research the continent, bordering countries, and boarding oceans; the size and how it compared to Japan’s; the population and how it compared to Japan’s; and the capital. Look at those words again: location, continent, bordering, population, compare, and capital. Not exactly English 101.

Matt and I decided to split the girls into pairs and have each pair research a different topic. That wasn’t too difficult, as our classroom was set up with wireless internet and tons of laptops which the ALTs brought. What was harder was getting the pairs to share that information with the wider group. In the end, we confiscated a whiteboard. Each pair wrote the information and gave a mini-presentation while everyone else took notes.

This was extremely effective, but it took all afternoon and it wasn’t even the main part of the presentation. We still had to get the students to choose a different topic to research, write out a speech, make a poster, and practice saying their presentation. We had two full days left and an hour on Friday morning.

I must also add that, besides those basic requirements, there were no guidelines set out by the camp. I think they wanted to give the students freedom to express their creativity and a democratic work ethic. A Western-style learning environment. All well and good, but Matt and I were dealing with students who could barely answer, “What do you like?” We decided, in an unspoken way, that we were going to have to take charge of the group.

This was not the case for everyone. There were four groups of 4-6 students with 2 supervising ALTs per group. Some of those ALTs seemed to do very little work. One group, in particular, had most of the high school students, and those students simply plunged into their topics. While our group was struggling to read out “The population of France is sixty-five million, four hundred forty-seven thousand, three hundred seventy four people,” their group was making posters for the history of American cinema.

We didn’t care. We worked at our own pace. The next morning, Matt and I spent the first half hour presenting a list of topics for the pairs and having each pair choose one. Then the girls got to work.

Oh, there was drama indeed.

First of all, there was a problem with one of the pairs. Nanami, a bright, flighty, outgoing girl, had been paired with Chiaki, a slow, diligent, reserved girl, and needless to say, their styles clashed. Matt and I split them up and gave them each a different topic. We had been warned that Chiaki was at an extremely low English level. Her topic was the French language and fortunately we had a French-Japanese language book. But her entire method of working was to write “(English word) is (French word).” That was all she did the entire first day.

Nanami, on the other hand, finished most of her work that first day and still had enough time to get her heart broken. Matt and I saw her suddenly become depressed and start crying. We didn’t know what was going on. We weren’t allowed to speak Japanese. Fortunately, some of the other ALTs comforted her and she cheered up by the next day, though she still spent an inordinant amount of time making eyes at that boy.

In the meantime, Yui, who had been up all night, felt sick and had to lie down. Her partner, Mayu went with her, so they were out half the afternoon. Then, the next morning, Haruka and Azumi, who had drawn an absolutely beautiful poster, were told by Sakura that their speech was too short. They had to research new information and translate it into English—an hour before the deadline for finishing their speeches. Rather than push back the deadline, we separated the pairs and helped each girl with their speech.

It was at this time that I learned the loophole to the “no Japanese” rule. We weren’t supposed to speak Japanese. No one ever said we couldn’t understand Japanese. Azumi wrote down the information she wanted to say, and I translated it for her into simple English.

On the afternoon of the third day, after a trip to KAPIC’s Asian museum, we took the girls outside and had them practice their speech. Matt and I decided we’d begin the presentation by having all the girls say “Bonjour” and end with “Au Revoir.” I made them stand on “stage” (a slight hill) and practice, over and over again. I also went to each girl individually and coached them through their speeches, tirelessly correcting their pronunciation.

In the morning of the fourth day, in the hour or so before the presentation, we stood the girls on the stage (the real stage), hung the posters on the whiteboard, and went through about three dress rehearsals. There was no doubt about it—our group was prepared.

Unfortunately preparation was not one of the criteria being judged.

They threw this at us literally right before we had to get on stage. That is, Sakura mentioned there would be a contest on the first day, but she did not say how we were being judged. The categories, it turned out, included content, memorization, and creativity. They were not in our favor.

But you know what? I didn’t care. Yeah, we didn’t have much content. Yeah, we hadn’t memorized our speeches at. Yeah, we didn’t have costumes or props or do a dance like the Austrian group did. But our girls gave a solid performance. They pointed to their posters when and where they were supposed to, they made eye contact with the audience, and they spoke fluidly. And by the way, did I mention, we were the FIRST group to get on stage. I was proud of our girls. We came in fourth, but it was a close fourth. I bought the girls soda from the vending machine as a reward.

Matt and I talked about it in the car afterwards. Winning, we both agreed, had never been the point. The point had been for the students to learn English and feel the confidence that came with it. Through our constant supervising, explaining, correcting, and cheering, we had accomplished this. Chiaki, who had hunched into herself at the start of the camp, was beaming by the end of it.

A picture of me and Matt that Haruka drew.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Shogatsu



January 11, 2008

Happy New Year!

I still get to say Happy New Year, because in Japan the holiday goes on until the 15th, although the festivities aren’t exactly non-stop. And we certainly don’t get any free vacation days past the 3rd of January. Still, Happy New Year everyone, or as we say in Japan, Shinnen Akemashite Omedetou Gozaimasu. Yeah, the English version is shorter.

And now onto business.

Shogatsu is the Japanese name for New Year, but check the phrase, you’ll notice the term doesn’t come up. That’s because Shogatsu refers to specifically the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd of January. Yeah, it’s kind of confusing, but look at it this way: Shogatsu refers to the days I actually got off. Because, rest assured, I had to get up bright and early on January 4th (a Friday) and go to the office, even though I had nothing to do once I got there.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ll begin with New Year’s Eve.

All I know about traditional Japanese New Year’s Eve is that you’re supposed to eat long soba, or buckwheat noodles, for long life. Of course, they know how we celebrate New Year’s in America and call it a “countdown party.” But I, for my part, celebrated in neither the Western nor Japanese way. In fact, I’m loath to say I celebrated. I watched Letters from Iwo Jima. When the movie ended, it was 12:30. The moment was over and I was too depressed from the movie to even open the bottle of Martinelli’s apple cider I had bought from Kagoshima City the day before. So I said “Happy New Year” to myself and went to bed.

Nor was January 1, 2008 very interesting. I studied Japanese and wrote my story. Around mid-afternoon, I got cabin fever, so, despite it being rainy and cold, I took a long walk around the city. My thinly veiled excuse was to see which stores were open and which were closed. As it turned out, only convenient stores and drug stores seemed to be open. I think the gas stations may have been opened as well, and the buses were running. But most every store, restaurant, and cafĂ© seemed to be closed. Once I passed a bank, and the automatic doors were moving open and shut without reason. (I wasn’t the reason; I was on the other side of the street.) I bought a can of some steaming red bean milk from one of the vending machines. And that was the most exciting thing that happened to me.

January 2nd was my birthday. I really didn’t have any plans for celebrating, having spent all my good ideas on Christmas Eve. In the morning, I spoke to my family, and that was nice. But around mid-afternoon, which is really a dull time, I began to feel very lonely. I wanted someone to acknowledge my birthday, someone to celebrate with. I went to a coffee shop, but that didn’t help much, though the atmosphere was warm and the people were friendly. I felt more acutely alone with people around.

Finally, on January 3rd, I got to do something.



I had been invited to go bird-watching by Shinkoda-sensei and Kubo-sensei (both older women from Kushira Shogyou) and I accepted. So, early that Thursday morning, I dressed myself warmly in layers and, at the last moment, brought my bottle of Martinelli’s so that I’d have something to contribute. (And something exotic at that.) They picked me up near my office and we drove to Lake Oosumi, near the KAPIC Center (where I made gingerbread houses).

There was a large crowd of birdwatchers and they had set up a picnic area by the lake. A few dogs were roaming around. Later we’d have nabe, but for now we strolled around the lake, bundled warm in our coats, and looked for birds. Winter might seem an odd time for bird-watching, but we were as far south as you can get in Japan without crossing major chunks of ocean and all the birds had migrated to us. So really it made perfect sense.

I walked with Shinkoda-sensei. She told me the names of birds we saw and I checked this against my Japanese-English dictionary. Sagi. Heron. Kamo. Duck. There was also a little bird with a yellow breast called a kisekirei. And the same bird with a white chest called hakusekirei.



After watching birds, we all sat down for lunch. We had nabe, which just means pot in Japan, usually referring to a clay pot filled with soup, vegetables, meat, and whatever else you wished to throw in. They had heated a big pot of this under an open fire. Kubo-sensei and Shinkoda-sensei brought out onigiri (riceballs) and apples and various goodies. I was glad I brought my novelty cider. We toasted my birthday and drank down the cider.

Later, we went to KAPIC, where they had an Asian Cultural museum. I had been there before, but I played with the musical instruments, with the costumes, with the poles for a bamboo dance (reminiscent of a game of jump rope). And after that, Shinkoda-sensei showed me to Tasaki Shrine, where she instructed me to ring a bell and throw a coin for good luck. She was also proud of the 900 year old tree the shrine boasted. Then she bought me cotton candy from a vendor at the shrine.

Candybread Houses



December 17, 2007

One of my Christmas decorations with which I've been decorating my house is a newly made gingerbread house—or rather, a candybread house; it’s made out of graham crackers, for crying outloud. I made it myself yesterday at the KAPIC Center. The KAPIC Center is a sort of International Culture Center just outside Kanoya in the middle of the forest. Yesterday, Sunday, they had an event where we got to make our own candy houses.

Rachelle told me about the event and as she was going, I tagged along. After all, what is Christmas without decorating a little house with candy? Besides me and Rachelle, there were four other ALTs: Cara and Brett.

Sandy, the CIR, gave instructions in Japanese. The model house had a tall sloped roof, but as I knew from experience those things never stay standing, I disregarded the model and built my house my own way. I was inspired by a round Ritz cracker to make a hobbit house, with a round door—but it didn’t quite work out. I’ll send you a picture so you can see the final result.

Out of the 4 ALTs, however, I would like to point out that mine was the only one whose roof stood. Rachelle couldn’t get her roof to stay and, growing impatient, stacked two Graham crackers flat, like a cross. Cara’s roof splintered. She put the pieces inside her hollow house and raised a marshmallow as a white flag. Brett, who did such a meticulous job of picking out different colored sprinkles to decorate his house, found his roof sliding down. He yelled for me to take a picture. Three seconds after I snapped the shot, the roof came down, squashing walls and yard flat. Giving the project up for loss, Brett dumped the remains of his candy on the remains, and we made up an elaborate story about an earthquake reducing the house to rubble.

In short, we had a good time.