On November 12, two hundred educators converged on San Francisco ready to embark on the journey of a lifetime.  We represented our individual schools, our individual towns, and our individual states.  I emphasize individual because we arrived in San Francisco as individuals. We were the map of America representing the racial, ethnic and economic diversity associated with the  United States.  We came from public and private schools in urban, suburban, and rural communities from the most densely populated state, New Jersey, to the least densely populated state, Alaska. 

Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, we became a group- the American teachers, the JFMFers.  Our American identity gelled as soon as we landed at Narita Airport.  Even the handful of teachers who were of Japanese ancestry were easy to pick out as Americans.  What was it about us that made us all Americans?  I suppose the first clue came in our preparation meetings when we were told that the enthusiasm of "independent minded American teachers" could be somewhat overwhelming to our Japanese counterparts.  Would we please select a speaker of the day who would deliver greetings on behalf of the entire group?

Physically we stuck out in Japan. It may have been the first time that I have ever been considered tall.  In the Netherlands, among the officially tallest people in the world, I was a hobbit.  Among American women of my age group, I am average height and average shoe size.  In Japan, I was tall and acutely aware of my big feet. Out and about in Japan, we were easy to spot.  When two teachers became separated from the group at a shrine, their strategy for getting back to the bus was to look for the blonde people.  Fortunately, they didn't end up on the Croatian tour bus since the second strategy was to listen for English.

Finding someone who spoke English in Tokyo was relatively easy.  Tokyo is a world city like London, New York, or Amsterdam.  For the most part, our lecturers spoke English.  Many had spent time in the United States under the Fulbright Scholars program. The hotel staff at the Keio Plaza Hotel had a working knowledge of English.  Out and about in Tokyo, where street signs are few and addresses nonexistent, those who spoke a little English seemed to be on the look out to assist confused and disoriented Americans often following us to make sure we turned left at the correct corner.  At stores, clerks who did not speak English read English and would ask us to write down our questions.  It was not until we left Tokyo for our host cities that it became apparent that we needed a bit more japanese than "Watashiwa [insert state name] no, [insert family name] desu."

Watashiwa New Jersey no, Chen desu ( I am Chen of New Jersey).  After that opening phrase, the translator would take over.  We learned to watch the speaker for clues to meaning in body language and then listen to the translator for meaning in words.  During a trip to the Netherlands my knowledge of English and German had been enough to allow me to follow conversations.  Other than wasabi, sushi, and karaoke, I can't say that English or German was much help with understanding Japanese.  Even knowing a few Chinese words didn't help with reading Kanji since I saw the word and thought the English meaning of the Chinese word.  I understand what lost in translation truly means.  If nothing else, I now understand how difficult if must be for Korean students sitting in my science classes at Eisenhower.

During our visit to the elementary schools, a lack of Japanese fluency on my part was overcome by the shear determination of the youngsters to make themselves understood.  I had brought small photo albums of pictures of my family and school.  These proved to be icebreakers.  The cover of my school album had a clip art picture of our school mascot.  "Doggu!" my new young friend exclaimed as he excitedly alerted the rest of our lunch group that I had pictures in the book with the dog on the cover.  I didn't need a translator as the children pointed at the pictures and commented to each other about what they saw.  I would say the English word as they pointed, they would teach me the Japanese word.  An Eisenhower student from Japan had taken me on a tour of our school advising me as to what I should photograph. I had included his picture to the delight of the Japanese students.  Seeing the school through his eyes had given me a perspective that bridged the language gap.

At the junior high, I had a wonderful chance to talk with six bright young ladies.  We talked about poetry, music, and favorite everything.  "The boys are loud," my young lunch partner declared rolling her eyes at the noisy boys tumbling around playing at judo.  The free period between classes was like nothing I'd ever seen.  it was total bedlam.  Yet, as soon as the chimes sounded to begin the next class, students snapped to attention, focused and ready to begin their lessons. With thirty students in a class, the space was somewhat cramped.  Teachers focused their attention on the students who were working.  We asked if teachers would be held accountable if a student did poorly on the exams.  The vice principal looked at us quizzically and replied that achievement was the individual responsibility of the student.  If the entire class did poorly, then there might be some question about the teacher.  Responsibility for learning belonged to the individual student and his parents.  It was a novel concept for the American sensei.

"Your name is Chinese. She is Chinese," Michiko Yamashita informed me as we ate lunch at the high school.  I looked across the table and asked in my best Mandarin"How are you?"  The young lady answered in perfect English.  I complimented her on her English.  "I'm from Seattle.," she replied.  Matsuyama has a number of international sister city relationships.  The young lady who was Chinese was an American from Seattle participating a in a student exchange program.  Fluent in Japanese and English, she served as the translator for our group.  Michiko had been an exchange student in Seattle. Later in the day, this group of students would be part of the most moving moment of our school visits in Matsuyama.  The students in the oral communications class had prepared a presentation for us.  Michiko Yamashita shared with us her second place oration.  She left us wondering what the first place oration had been like, because in our book, she was the winner.

 

“SHE IS JAPANESE”  “YES, I AM JAPANESE!”

Michiko Yamashita

Matsuyama Chuo Senior High School

“She is Japanese.”  This is the most impressive word I have heard in America.  But I couldn't understand not only the meaning of each word but also the hidden meaning in it.  It took me some time to understand them.  Since I was eleven years old, I had spent three and a half years in Seattle, America, because of my father’s work.

In my classroom, there were many kinds of people, for example, Chinese, Cambodian, Indian, Polish and so on.  I was the only Japanese.  My first teacher was Japanese-American.  Her name was Ms. Yokohama.  I thought she could speak Japanese, so I spoke to her in Japanese, but she couldn't.  She only knew the word “benjo,” so my friends learned the Japanese word “benjo.”  I was happy to hear Japanese, even one word, “benjo”.  Through this experience, I learned that we cannot judge people by their looks.

However, the first time I met a black girl, she tried to shake hands and hug me.  I was confused and hesitated to do that, but I reluctantly just shook hands.  I didn’t know the reason at that time.  She looked into my eyes sadly.  I realized she had beautiful eyes and her hands were warm.  How stupid I was!!!  I strongly swore never to do such a thing again.

One year later, I had a dancing lesson with boys.  I was partnered with a white boy, but the boy was trying not to touch me.  Why?   I got a great shock.  I didn’t know the reason at all.  I just kept silent.  I couldn’t do anything about that.  But now I understand.  He didn’t like me just because I am Asian.  It was just the same thing as I had done toward the black girl.  These were discrimination.

Now I am a high school girl.  I have a close friend from America in my class.  She is Chinese.  We have talked about discrimination.  She has met with discrimination, too.  When she was in elementary school, she was called a “chopstick girl.”  Then she got angry and kicked him.  She is strong.  That was completely different from me.  I couldn’t do anything against the boy.  But now I can say “I’m Japanese!!  What’s wrong?”

We have different races, different languages and different cultures, but we are all human beings below the same sky.  We are all the same!!!  What can we do to make friends all over the world?  I have three suggestions.  First, we have to accept the differences.  We have to be interested in foreign countries, languages and cultures, and learn!!  Second, we have to open our minds and respect each other.  Finally, we have to be self-assertive!!  Let’s speak out about who we are.  Now I repeat “I am JAPANESE!!”

Yes, Machiko, as I landed in San Francisco, I was more aware that there are many different people in America and many languages compared to Japan.  I thought about our school visits and realized that beyond the conformity of the uniforms the Japanese students we observed and met in Matsuyama were just like our students in America.  Truly we are all the same under the same sky. Thank you for teaching us that.

Post script

We began our journey as individuals who came together as the American teachers of JFMF.  During our journey we melded as prefecture groups.  On our final day, we departed by geographic groups back to Seattle, San Francisco, and Chicago.  At the San Francisco airport slowly we dispersed until the 8 New Jersey teachers were Newark-Liberty bound.  We ended our journey as we bagan- as individuals.  But now we each bore a responsibility to share the lessons learned on the journey of a lifetime.  Although I write this alone, I know that through the magic of the Internet I am still connected to the Matsuyama group and the wonderful people of my home away from home Matsuyama.

Reuse, Reduce, Recycle- Sustainable Living in Japan