Along with the New Year's holidays and obon, a four-day festival in August to honor one's ancestors, Golden Week is one of only three relatively long vacations that Japanese workers get every year.
If you ask me, Golden Week needs to be renamed. For one, Golden Week has nothing to do with gold. For two, you only get a maximum of three consecutive days off from work (not including Saturday and Sunday), not an entire week. Golden Week would only be "golden" if most workers were given Monday through Friday off every year, which would result in a lovely 9-day vacation.
Golden Week stretches from April 29 to May 5. Four of the seven days, April 29 and May 3, May 4, and May 5, are holidays. If you check your calendar, you'll see that this year, May 3 and May 4 fell on a Saturday and Sunday. So Golden Week turned out to be an Especially-Not-so-Golden-Week.
Luckily, however, there's at least a provision in the law that assures workers of a "real" day off if a holiday happens to fall on a Sunday. So this year that extended the holiday through Tuesday, May 6. Nevertheless, two days off (or, if you count the weekend, four days off), is hardly a week.
What's more, we actually had to come in to school on Saturday, May 3, since we had a type of open house that day. In lieu of having to work that day, we at least got Wednesday, May 7 off. But that still left us with only four consecutive days off, which is nowhere close to being a "golden" week.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Translation in Lost
How many cities in the U.S. (or anywhere in the world) have the word "City" in their name? Not many, as far as I know. Or at least, not many well-known ones.
There's New York City, of course. And there's also Carson City, Iowa City, Jefferson City, Kansas City, Oklahoma City, and Salt Lake City, for example. (The only one of those that popped into my head right away was Kansas City. The rest I found with a little help from Google.)
And what about locales with the words "Town" or "Village" in them? I suppose there might be a few of those in the U.S., too, but I can't think of any offhand.
Here in Japan, however, it seems that just about every community is categorized as either a city, town, or village. That fact is quite noticeable as soon as you reach the border of a community, since there will inevitably be a sign in both Japanese and English (at least along the bigger roads) announcing where you are: "Nobeoka City," "Tsuno Town," and "Shiiba Village," for instance.
It seems that whoever was in charge of translating the signs into English must have thought that you have to also translate the kanji that indicates whether the place is a town, city, or village. But that is gen
erally incorrect, except in cases such as New York City, Kansas City, and Oklahoma City, for instance, when the "City" in the name helps to distinguish the city from the state. (Here in Japan, many prefectural capitals have the same name as the prefecture. Locally, for example, we have Miyazaki City, Miyazaki and Nagasaki City, Nagasaki, just to name two.)
Unfortunately, the result is that most people include the word "City," "Town," or "Village" when they tell you where they are from. So here at school, I'm doing my best to eradicate that movement from the language. Whenever a student tells me "I'm from ______ City/Town/Village," I tell them to leave off the "City/Town/Village." And whenever they write the same thing, I cross out the "suffix." That's just one of the one-man crusades I'm on over here.
At least the town of Hinokage got it right. But that's a rarity. And don't ask me if the Korean is correct.
A similar goof-up is how the Japanese translate teachers' names into English. In Japanese, teachers are called "______ sensei," which in English is the equivalent of "Mr./Ms./Mrs. ______." But somehow, someone had the brilliant idea of saying "______ Teacher" instead and that seems to have stuck with everyone over here. So I'm also on a crusade to put an end to that practice, too.
Oh, and here's another great screw-up that is probably my favorite: For whatever reason, something as simple as "Pardon me?" as in the case of, "Could you please repeat that?" has yet to establish a firm foothold in the vocabulary of Japanese students who are learning English.
I'd like to give you three guesses as to what they say instead, but you'll never come up with it. See, what they say most of the time is: "One more, please." And the kicker is, they almost always hold up one finger while saying that.
One time, when I tried to explain to a class why "One more, please." was wrong, I said the following:
If someone just said something and you'd like them to repeat it, "Pardon me?" is a great way to get that point across. And if someone just gave you a chocolate donut and it tasted really good, that's when you want to say, "One more, please."
There's New York City, of course. And there's also Carson City, Iowa City, Jefferson City, Kansas City, Oklahoma City, and Salt Lake City, for example. (The only one of those that popped into my head right away was Kansas City. The rest I found with a little help from Google.)
And what about locales with the words "Town" or "Village" in them? I suppose there might be a few of those in the U.S., too, but I can't think of any offhand.
Here in Japan, however, it seems that just about every community is categorized as either a city, town, or village. That fact is quite noticeable as soon as you reach the border of a community, since there will inevitably be a sign in both Japanese and English (at least along the bigger roads) announcing where you are: "Nobeoka City," "Tsuno Town," and "Shiiba Village," for instance.
It seems that whoever was in charge of translating the signs into English must have thought that you have to also translate the kanji that indicates whether the place is a town, city, or village. But that is gen
erally incorrect, except in cases such as New York City, Kansas City, and Oklahoma City, for instance, when the "City" in the name helps to distinguish the city from the state. (Here in Japan, many prefectural capitals have the same name as the prefecture. Locally, for example, we have Miyazaki City, Miyazaki and Nagasaki City, Nagasaki, just to name two.)Unfortunately, the result is that most people include the word "City," "Town," or "Village" when they tell you where they are from. So here at school, I'm doing my best to eradicate that movement from the language. Whenever a student tells me "I'm from ______ City/Town/Village," I tell them to leave off the "City/Town/Village." And whenever they write the same thing, I cross out the "suffix." That's just one of the one-man crusades I'm on over here.
At least the town of Hinokage got it right. But that's a rarity. And don't ask me if the Korean is correct.
A similar goof-up is how the Japanese translate teachers' names into English. In Japanese, teachers are called "______ sensei," which in English is the equivalent of "Mr./Ms./Mrs. ______." But somehow, someone had the brilliant idea of saying "______ Teacher" instead and that seems to have stuck with everyone over here. So I'm also on a crusade to put an end to that practice, too.
Oh, and here's another great screw-up that is probably my favorite: For whatever reason, something as simple as "Pardon me?" as in the case of, "Could you please repeat that?" has yet to establish a firm foothold in the vocabulary of Japanese students who are learning English.
I'd like to give you three guesses as to what they say instead, but you'll never come up with it. See, what they say most of the time is: "One more, please." And the kicker is, they almost always hold up one finger while saying that.
One time, when I tried to explain to a class why "One more, please." was wrong, I said the following:
If someone just said something and you'd like them to repeat it, "Pardon me?" is a great way to get that point across. And if someone just gave you a chocolate donut and it tasted really good, that's when you want to say, "One more, please."
Monday, May 19, 2008
Salt 'n Pepper
Lunch at school was such a disaster last week that I went out to eat twice. Both times I went to a restaurant that is about a 10-minute walk from school called kajika no sato (frog village). When I choose to eat out like that, I sort of have to pay double, since I pay roughly 300 yen (USD 3/EUR 2,00) for lunch in the dorm, whether or not I eat it. Since the type of meal I usually order at kajika costs 800 yen (USD 8/EUR 5), eating out is a rather expensive undertaking, at least in term
s of dollars. (The meal pictured here is a rather delicious pork cutlet "set.")
Why did I skip out on lunch twice? Well, Monday's main course was supposed to be some kind of bean dish. No thanks! And Wednesday's meal was the ol' "Hungry Menu." Double no thanks!
I guess you could say I'm slowly running out of patience with the dorm food!
********************
Today's baseball game was postponed due to rain. For whatever reason, we're not making the game up until next Wednesday, as in nine days from today. The weather for the rest of the week is supposed to be nice and sunny, so why can't we play tomorrow, instead, for instance? It's not like there are a bunch of games taking place all week. So now we have (our final) two games scheduled for next week: Monday and Wednesday.
I love how the league office spreads our five games out over about seven or eight weeks. How am I supposed to get any kind of rhythm going by playing so few games spaced so far apart? By the way, we lost our second game but won our third, so we're now 1-2. Oh, and in case you're wondering, yes, I did redeem myself in game two. With a vengeance.
********************
The other day, I talked to my supervisor about testing the first-graders (as a reminder once again, I'm talking about seventh-graders in the U.S.) in oral proficiency just about once a week. My idea is that the kids should have to see me some time during the week and recite x amount of sentences, with the x increasing by 1 every week. That way, by the time the kids move on to the second grade, they'll be fairly fluent in basic conversational English, unlike most of the students at my school (and all over Japan I dare say).
For the first test, I suggested that the kids tell me their name, where they were from, and how old they were. My supervisor wasn't so keen on the idea initially but later agreed to let me carry out my plan.
So last Wednesday I explained the concept to the students in class, in English. At one point, my supervisor wanted to start telling the students my idea in Japanese, so that they would all understand me, but I did my best to keep him quiet.
I explained the test over and over, in as many ways as possible until I finally got through to some of the kids. To make sure I got through to all of the students, I asked for a volunteer to come up and introduce himself to me according to the "rules." He mastered his test like a champ, rattling off the three sentences in error-free English. I gave him a high-five and was sure I got my message across.
Wrong.
Friday morning, my supervisor told me that several first-graders' parents had called their kids' homeroom teacher and told him that their children were confused by my explanation and didn't know what their assignment was.
It figures. All I was asking the kids to do was introduce themselves to me, something they had already done on the first day of class! Am I really such a bad person for trying to teach the kids some English in English, for crying out loud(!)? Why is it that whenever you try to challenge kids, you end up getting an earful from a bunch of their parents? And I thought that only happened in America.
********************
A few weeks ago, most of the rice fields around here turned into rice paddies. All that water is now home to hundreds or perhaps even thousands of frogs (and other creatures such as snakes). So for the past few weeks, there's been a regular frog-croaking symphony going on at night.
Tonight, it sounds as though a woodpecker has joined in, since there's a loud "tap tap tap tap tap" coming from somewhere out there at regular intervals as well. Somehow, I've been able to sleep through the "music" just fine so far. I hope my luck continues. By the way, the rice paddies are about 50 feet from my balcony. I have to figure out a way to record the sound.
s of dollars. (The meal pictured here is a rather delicious pork cutlet "set.")Why did I skip out on lunch twice? Well, Monday's main course was supposed to be some kind of bean dish. No thanks! And Wednesday's meal was the ol' "Hungry Menu." Double no thanks!
I guess you could say I'm slowly running out of patience with the dorm food!
********************
Today's baseball game was postponed due to rain. For whatever reason, we're not making the game up until next Wednesday, as in nine days from today. The weather for the rest of the week is supposed to be nice and sunny, so why can't we play tomorrow, instead, for instance? It's not like there are a bunch of games taking place all week. So now we have (our final) two games scheduled for next week: Monday and Wednesday.
I love how the league office spreads our five games out over about seven or eight weeks. How am I supposed to get any kind of rhythm going by playing so few games spaced so far apart? By the way, we lost our second game but won our third, so we're now 1-2. Oh, and in case you're wondering, yes, I did redeem myself in game two. With a vengeance.
********************
The other day, I talked to my supervisor about testing the first-graders (as a reminder once again, I'm talking about seventh-graders in the U.S.) in oral proficiency just about once a week. My idea is that the kids should have to see me some time during the week and recite x amount of sentences, with the x increasing by 1 every week. That way, by the time the kids move on to the second grade, they'll be fairly fluent in basic conversational English, unlike most of the students at my school (and all over Japan I dare say).
For the first test, I suggested that the kids tell me their name, where they were from, and how old they were. My supervisor wasn't so keen on the idea initially but later agreed to let me carry out my plan.
So last Wednesday I explained the concept to the students in class, in English. At one point, my supervisor wanted to start telling the students my idea in Japanese, so that they would all understand me, but I did my best to keep him quiet.
I explained the test over and over, in as many ways as possible until I finally got through to some of the kids. To make sure I got through to all of the students, I asked for a volunteer to come up and introduce himself to me according to the "rules." He mastered his test like a champ, rattling off the three sentences in error-free English. I gave him a high-five and was sure I got my message across.
Wrong.
Friday morning, my supervisor told me that several first-graders' parents had called their kids' homeroom teacher and told him that their children were confused by my explanation and didn't know what their assignment was.
It figures. All I was asking the kids to do was introduce themselves to me, something they had already done on the first day of class! Am I really such a bad person for trying to teach the kids some English in English, for crying out loud(!)? Why is it that whenever you try to challenge kids, you end up getting an earful from a bunch of their parents? And I thought that only happened in America.
********************
A few weeks ago, most of the rice fields around here turned into rice paddies. All that water is now home to hundreds or perhaps even thousands of frogs (and other creatures such as snakes). So for the past few weeks, there's been a regular frog-croaking symphony going on at night.
Tonight, it sounds as though a woodpecker has joined in, since there's a loud "tap tap tap tap tap" coming from somewhere out there at regular intervals as well. Somehow, I've been able to sleep through the "music" just fine so far. I hope my luck continues. By the way, the rice paddies are about 50 feet from my balcony. I have to figure out a way to record the sound.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Hitching Rides with Yama
I'm reading a book called Hitching Rides With Buddha. It's about a guy who hitchhiked all the way across Japan, from south to north, following the spread of the cherry blossoms.
The other day, I had my own little hitchhiking-like encounter that reminded me of the author's adventure-filled journey. But I wasn't the hitcher. Rather, I was the one offering a ride.
The encounter probably never would have taken place had I not taken a detour to the local "Y" shop* (a convenience store like a 7-11) on my way to school. The slight delay caused me to arrive back at the main intersection in town at the same time as another walker, rather than a couple minutes ahead of him. (I noticed him quite a ways behind me when I turned off the main road through town).
My first instinct was to speed up to avoid this stranger, since he appeared a bit odd to me. But I quickly changed my mind. Remember the croquet-golf lady? I certainly did,
and I figured this was another chance to practice some Japanese. So I ended up traveling (walking) with the stranger half-way to school.
This guy was quite a character. (He looked familiar to me, but I just couldn't place him.) Despite the fact that it was around 8:00 in the morning, he was already pretty hammered. And even though I figured he must have been on his way to work, he said he was actually on his way home. And when I asked him what kind of work he did, he said something about working in the rice fields. (I have no reason to doubt him, but I really don't think anyone plants rice at night.) And he knew where I worked and asked me a couple of questions about the school. And he had no trouble walking up the steep hill, either. (He even mentioned that he has strong legs.)
Even though I didn't understand everything he said, and I couldn't say everything to him that I wanted to, I was happy to be able to carry on some sort of meaningful conversation with him. I'm glad I decided to take him along for the ride.
*Another local convenience store is called the "I" shop, prompting me to often sing the following little ditty that I made up:
"Why shop at the I-shop, when you can shop at the Y-shop? Why shop at the Y-shop, when you can shop at the I-shop?" Cool, eh?
The other day, I had my own little hitchhiking-like encounter that reminded me of the author's adventure-filled journey. But I wasn't the hitcher. Rather, I was the one offering a ride.
The encounter probably never would have taken place had I not taken a detour to the local "Y" shop* (a convenience store like a 7-11) on my way to school. The slight delay caused me to arrive back at the main intersection in town at the same time as another walker, rather than a couple minutes ahead of him. (I noticed him quite a ways behind me when I turned off the main road through town).
My first instinct was to speed up to avoid this stranger, since he appeared a bit odd to me. But I quickly changed my mind. Remember the croquet-golf lady? I certainly did,
and I figured this was another chance to practice some Japanese. So I ended up traveling (walking) with the stranger half-way to school.This guy was quite a character. (He looked familiar to me, but I just couldn't place him.) Despite the fact that it was around 8:00 in the morning, he was already pretty hammered. And even though I figured he must have been on his way to work, he said he was actually on his way home. And when I asked him what kind of work he did, he said something about working in the rice fields. (I have no reason to doubt him, but I really don't think anyone plants rice at night.) And he knew where I worked and asked me a couple of questions about the school. And he had no trouble walking up the steep hill, either. (He even mentioned that he has strong legs.)
Even though I didn't understand everything he said, and I couldn't say everything to him that I wanted to, I was happy to be able to carry on some sort of meaningful conversation with him. I'm glad I decided to take him along for the ride.
*Another local convenience store is called the "I" shop, prompting me to often sing the following little ditty that I made up:
"Why shop at the I-shop, when you can shop at the Y-shop? Why shop at the Y-shop, when you can shop at the I-shop?" Cool, eh?
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