On the Outside, Looking In

Japan is a place where being part of a group matters more than whether or not you actually contribute to the group.

That’s why I do my best to be present at all the morning meetings at school even though they start at 8:10 (I don’t have to be at school until 8:30) and I can hardly follow what’s being talked about.

And that’s why I go to most of the assemblies in the gym, even though I usually don’t understand most of what is being said at those, either.

And that’s part of the reason why I helped all those teachers move in and out.

And it’s why I sometimes go to neighborhood parties, even though it usually means sitting uncomfortably on the floor, eating food that I’m not especially fond of, and not being able to communicate with many of the other attendees.

Then again, I still try to maintain some sort of individual identity. For instance, I only wear a tie when absolutely necessary (such as at graduation), which means that I’m often the only male not wearing a tie. But plenty of other teachers here have their own personal quirks that make them stick out from the crowd, too, so being different is clearly not un-Japanese.

Today it really hit home, however, that despite my efforts I’m always going to be treated differently than everyone else.

I’m not just talking about the fact that I’m a foreigner and everything that that connotes.

And I’m not talking about the fact that I’m neither required nor asked to attend any “big” meetings, such as most of those that have been taking place lately, what with the new school year getting started. (During the rest of the school year, “big” meetings take place about once or twice a month.)

And I’m not talking about the fact that I’m neither required nor asked to attend 99% of the English department meetings.

And I’m not talking about the fact that every teacher, including me (hah!), is assigned to some sort of non-academic group (mine is the environment and health group; other groups include the research group, the dormitory study-time group, and the news and information group), but I’m the only one who wasn’t asked to do anything for his group.

No.

What I am talking about is what happened today in the gym, when all the teachers lined up in front of all the students according to what grade they would be working with in an additional homeroom-teacher role and then got introduced to the students. Except me.

And what I am talking about is what I observed after the assembly, when, out of curiosity, I went up to the fourth- and fifth-grade classrooms to watch what the homeroom teachers did.

What did I see? The homeroom teachers introduced themselves individually to the students (new and old teachers alike) once again, got greeted with applause, passed out new books and a bunch of paperwork, and then made numerous announcements.

And all the while, there I was, standing in the hallway, behind closed doors, watching the proceedings though the sliding glass windows. Wondering why I wasn’t assigned to the same duty as everyone else.

There I was, on the outside looking in.

It wasn’t a great feeling.

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On the same note, every teacher and faculty member at my school has a small, engraved nameplate that they wear on their shirt. Except me.

Well, not exactly.

I was the only exception. Until a few days ago, when my nameplate arrived!

When new teachers start working at my school, they are given a nameplate.

But not Yama. No, Yama had to order his own.

But order his own he did.

And now Yama is a bit more like everyone else.

And believe me, the kids noticed! They got quite a kick out of my new nameplate.

And I wear it with pride.