I had three lessons at Etajima Elementary School today. This was because when I went last week, the sixth-years didn't have enough time to do their presentation on wa, which is something along the lines of 'the spirit of Japaneseness', so we scheduled an extra lesson. Three groups of children spoke about (respectively) Japanese and British rooms and furniture, Japanese and British cakes, and Japanese and British sports. Now, while I can see the value of the children researching this sort of thing, and while I think it's important that they learn to compare and contrast different countries and the different ways they have of doing things, I cannot see the point of Japanese children making a presentation on British culture to an Englishman. The teacher seems to think that anything connected with a foreign country is international understanding or international education, whereas the way he gets the children to do things now is not much more than a waste of time. Surely it would be better for the children to talk about Japan and for me to talk about Britain, and for us to compare and contrast things after this? Or, if the children really want to research foreign culture, then they could do this in order to be able to ask sensible questions of me. But trying to get them to teach me about my own country is, as far as I can see (and being charitable), misguided. In any case, what the children were saying was full of inaccuracies; I think the books they were using were probably written fairly soon after the war. The First World War, that is. The teacher didn't help matters much, either, at one point blithely stating that British people always took their shoes off just before going to bed- at which point I came closer than I have ever done before to telling a teacher in front of his class exactly what I thought of him. To start with, it is incredible that he would make such a sweeping generalisation about a whole country, and in addition it is unbelievable that on a point about Britain, he chose not to ask a Briton who just happened to be in the room at the time! In the end I didn't tell him that I thought he was a crass, bumbling idiot, but I did stand up and tell the class that what he'd said was wrong, and that in any case making generalisations was foolish. I hope they understood the implied message as well.
The children, nevertheless, didn't do a bad job- these sixth-years are a damn good class, and I'll be sad to see them graduate- and when I spoke on the three themes that the children had made presentations about (for which, read 'corrected their information') I got some worthwhile questions, and I think I succeeded in getting them to think a little about the differences and similarities between Japan and Britain. Apart from an irritating member of staff, it was a good lesson. One thing I did notice, though, is how little the children know about Japan- which is, of course, another reason why they should concentrate on their own country and leave the introduction of Britain to me. After each of the groups had made their presentation, they asked if there were any questions, and someone asked what a certain Japanese sweet they'd mentioned was! Also, I mentioned ateji- assigning Japanese characters to a word in accordance with their pronunciation- and the children had no clue what I was talking about.
I very rarely have lunch at Etajima because I normally only have two lessons at a time, but today I ate with the sixth-years. It was- as I would have expected with these children- lively and fun. They really are a good bunch of children. I think it's perhaps because Etajima Elementary School is the closest school to the office and to where I live, and so I see the children outside school quite often, but they have the least reticence of any of the sixth-year classes in the island's elementary schools. They're friendly, inquisitive, and they are more than willing to engage in a spot of banter (in fact, they normally start it). This sometimes spills over into cheekiness, but never in a bad way. With this group I can really see what a difference I've made over these five years- the children treat me entirely normally, with not a hint of their considering me a gaijin, or foreigner. While eating lunch, I asked them if they had any questions, and after making sure- absolutely sure!- that I would answer anything they asked, they proceeded to ask all sorts of questions along the lines of when I was getting married, how many times I'd been propositioned, and so on. A most enjoyable school lunch. Afterwards, the teacher had apparently decided that we (not including him, of course) would all play rounders outside, but given that there was only twenty minutes before the children's cleaning time started, I decided that this was impractical. I did go outside with the sixth-years, though, and after kicking a ball around for a little while, the children organised themselves into a game of kick baseball, which I'd never played before. As the bell rang, I challenged one boy (who used to talk about how fast at running he was) to a 100-metre race, and in the end three or four boys decided they wanted to race, including one boy whom everyone said was the fastest in the school. Well, I lost to this boy by a hair (really!), and, given that I was in suit and formal shoes, and he was in shorts and trainers, I think it's fair to say that I was the faster...
After lunch, I had lessons with the third-years and the fourth-years. The third-year teacher had asked me to talk about guide dogs in Britain (the children were apparently doing something related in another lesson), so I'd found some information on the internet. They listened fairly attentively (more so than normally, at least), but they had no questions (so some things never change), so I finished the lesson by showing them some British coins. The fourth-year teacher, meanwhile, had asked me to talk about volunteer activities in Britain, which turned fairly quickly into a more general discussion. I mean, there's only so much you can say along the lines of 'there are volunteers', 'they volunteer for different sorts of activities, like helping old people or cleaning up the environment, and so on'- and this doesn't take 45 minutes. I showed this group the coins, too, and managed to take up the whole lesson. There are some naughty children in the fourth-year, not to mention some who either have no interest or are incapable of listening, but nevertheless I like this class. The teacher is fairly strict, which makes things easier, too. I'm also quite pleased that teachers are gradually beginning to realise that they can tie my lessons in with what they're doing in other lessons, and that this is worthwhile for the children. It's taken over four years, but I'm finally making progress on the 'getting teachers to give some thought to international education' front.
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