What the What?

What's that?  An article from the BBC that's actually interesting, mediated and articulate - without pandering?  Surely an impossibility!  Alas, it's about sex; a topic I fear will mean very few people will read it and of those who do, none will be the targeted 'problem,' audience.  Read it and you'll see what I mean.

So we had training on Saturday with Lion.  I didn't pick up any shampoo this time (I'm running out!) but I did get a bottle of water (shhhh, don't tell anyone!).  It was pretty hot, as it always is.  There's nothing much else to report really.  Sunday is when the fun started.

I played with the Tokyo Gaijin in the first game of our shuto league season.  The shuto league is the easier of the two leagues we play in, despite it still being over thirty degrees.  This game was against a French ex-pat team who have exceptional hearing, because they must have listened in to my frog jokes beforehand; you'll see why later.

We played them in a friendly six months ago, we won 100-0.  A pretty impressive victory, and the biggest win I've ever been privy to (I've lost 130-0 before, a world record for rugby league in case you were wondering).

The game started with the humidity pushing the absorbency of my clothing to the limit, but our forwards immediately put the hammer down meaning I didn't have to run much.  They rumbled it up the field with the help of a couple of crash balls from our centres.  After a few minutes they pushed over the line, a great team effort.  The forwards were completely dominant for the whole game.  Regardless who threw into the lineout, or who fed into the scrum, our forwards won the ball.  To say it was a dominant performance is underselling their push.  The french were down and out with only ten minutes played, making the rest of the match substantially easier for everyone else.  My first contribution was to skin the inside centre, then the full-back and finally get bundled over the line by their team.  The video replay was inconclusive, but I maintain downward pressure was generated.

This move started from their ten metre line, which deceptively named, isn't actually ten metres away from their try line.  It was incredibly selfish because there were several people shadowing me the whole way, but in fairness there were also opposition players between me and them.

The second try came from the number eight peeling off the back of the ruck and drawing just about every player on the pitch - I came in for a switch (scissors) and took the ball with acres of space.  The defensive line opened up as if emulating the various, pustulating grazes I received from the bone-dry ground.  This was around our ten metre line, which is very far away from their line.  Luckily their defence was pretty disinterested even at this early stage, and they didn't put up much of a chase.

The third came from Nikola Pavesic, a Croatian (maybe the first I've ever met?) forward who is as ungainly as he is good.  He is the other foreigner who plays with Lion, the other team I'm currently part of.  He ran a sideways line across the backs (always discouraged wholesale when you're a kid, always effective when used properly) drawing in, once again, their entire team.  He passed the ball out of the tackle - it was somewhat awkward because I'd gone too early and it hit my shoulder.  I caught it after a couple of attempts and ran in under the posts.  Again, there was no defence to speak of.

The fun started early in the second half, after I'd posted a hat-trick (I think that might have something to do with it) and after I'd monstered a couple of their team, forcing a couple of turnovers when they were in promising positions.

They broke down the right wing, using their backs to send a prop, of all people away and unmarked.  I was already there, so lined him up perfectly.  He saw me, and I swear to god, this big fat french prop was smiling.  He didn't try to step or swerve, he just ran straight into me.  So I obligingly hit him, stopped him not just dead in his tracks but lifted him up, drove him back a metre and dumped him on his ass.  Unbeknownst to myself, I'd also forced the knock-on, the big fat frenchie unceremoniously dropping the ball.  So a triple whammy.  This big fat frenchie was humiliated by an English back, a full-back at that; and he'd been dispossessed.  Well, that was it wasn't it.  He had me in a completely exposed position (he'd grabbed my shirt in the tackle with one arm, leaving his other free to let the fists fly; coupled with both my arms being around him due to the tackle having been enacted) while maneuvering himself into an advantageous position.  The fists started flying and I was fucked.  It took about three punches before I managed to cover myself up, and even then I couldn't get my arms completely in front of my face so he was hitting my nose and mouth with typical french aplomb.  I won't lie, he landed a couple of good ones.  He didn't split anything, nor did he draw blood, but I was dazed.  The tackle was perfectly legal, even the referee agreed which led to the opposing player being sent off, but only on a yellow card.  To be honest I was aggrieved that it was only yellow, seeing as he spent an eternity trying to re-arrange my features.  I was also too stunned (at first because of what was happening, then because of the blows) to throw any of my own, so I curled up like a girl and waited for the kicking.  A few of the lads jumped in pretty quickly though, so thanks to them.

Everyone was in agreement that it was a completely fair and legal challenge, even the referee - the opposition claimed it was a spear tackle (how his ass hit the ground first and it be a spear tackle is beyond me) and claimed to have photographic evidence (on of their ranks had a monstrous zoom lense and a big old camera) but I've yet to see the evidence.  If and when it does emerge, I'll put it up here for the whole world to see, regardless of who's right or wrong.

Anyway, I was quiet for twenty minutes, I got snaffled a couple of times, had the ball stolen once, and generally did nothing.  Then for the last five or ten minutes I was back in action, being fed a couple of balls to create breaks.  The fourth and last try came from a kickoff, one of our players gave me the ball, and skinning the first line of defence I ran away to score out wide.  It was a generally good game, and thanks to my brain rebooting after the beating, I was able to continue and prove effective late in the second.

All-told, an eventful day on the field.


On a non-rugby note, we've got speech contests coming up.  I've written and re-written the script for the second year student half a dozen times now.  The second year teacher just handed me a piece of paper; the script I've worked on is now unrecognizable.  Where once there was clarity, confusion reigns.  Where once there were simple, concise sentences, now rambling.  Where once there was English, there is now Japlish.

In an interesting twist, the second year overseer has asked me to speak into one of those, voice recordey boxes so there is a permanent record for the student to repeatedly listen to.  Fine, I say.  I'll do it as an MP3 and they can listen to it on their phone or ipad, whatever the cool kids are listening to these days.

What's an MP3?  I'm asked.  Oh jeez...  It's like a small cd player.  They can listen on their phones.

Oh, is the reply.  But no one has one of those.

I was unable to contain the look that obviously appeared on my face.  Whether it was shock, or purely stupefied I can't be certain, but it registered that she'd said something dumbfounding as she continued; yeah, only the really bad students have phones or MP3's.

A couple of seconds passed as I processed this information.  Oh, realisation suddenly dawning, she means at school, obviously they're not allowed to bring this stuff to school.

No is the reply.  At home too.  Only the really bad students have cellphones or MP3 players at home too.  They're not allowed them.  They only have CD's.

I'm using anecdotal evidence from my own personal experience here, but that means roughly 105% of all Japanese students are horrendous, awful people who should be put to death because not only do they all have mobile phones, they all have MP3 players too.  That's like a double whammy of horribleness.  Only CD's; really.  I'm pretty sure my grandad has an MP3 player, yet if he could purchase music on vinyl he would happily jack all this electronic stuff and retread the timeline fantastic.

I give up.  I'm going to make some token changes then give it back to her, this poor kid condemned to spending the next month learning gibberish - I feel for you, child.

These Are a Few of my Angriest Things

Yes, I know the title doesn't make any sense but:

These are the things that make me angry.

So yesterday was Sunday.  Sunday in Japan means nothing being open for more than a couple of hours - kind of like the west back in 1800; when everyone had dysentery.

This wouldn't be a problem, except I wanted to buy some food.  I am a hungry fellow, that's for sure.

Anyway, I was late to the post office (it closed at 4) which meant I couldn't buy food.

Why do I need to go to the post office to buy food?  Well, simply put, everything is cash here.  I'm sure I've written about it before, but a country that relies on cash is a country begging to fall into obscurity.  It appears to me, that a cash carrying society is ridiculous in every sense in this era.  When we devolve into the spineless soup coloured blob monsters from that cartoon where everyone whistles, and they live on the moon (I can hear my dads impression of it now, but I don't know the name); we will all use cash.  It's such a backwards form of bartering - paper assuming value; that's like using spaghetti to build bridges!  (Or something)

We must start using the digital - credit cards for everything.

Of course there is a problem with that.  The Japanese really enjoy being gouged at every opportunity.  They love a good, solid, cactus based rectal examination - that's the only reason they put up with it costing them more than one pound fifty (current exchange rates may vary; bank of Sam) to withdraw money from an ATM that isn't affiliated with their bank.  In fact, I think they pay that much if they have any bank account other than the post office (I make that assumption because everyone I know complains about the price of accessing their own money, so they're either stupid or compliant).  It boggles my mind.  It really does.  You can feasibly take cash out once every two weeks (taking too much risks robbery, too little risks bankruptcy; this being a situation begging for satire)  which means paying three quid a month.  That's thirty odd quid a year, without factoring a trip to a shopping centre (luckily large purchases can be made on a card) or unexpected expenses.  I get bills through my door every other day, so he-who-shall-not-be-named only knows how many unexpected bills a family must get.

That's a chunk of change given to a company, for the pleasure of them having all your goddamn money anyway.

Anyway.

The other thing that's annoying me right now, in this specific sliver of time, is that one of the kids in my school speaks English.  He speaks English well, having grown up in the Philippines.  He is taking daily Japanese lessons (he's only been here a while, and it turns out his Japanese isn't so hot) during what would otherwise be English lessons.  This is a great idea - he gets nothing out of English lessons (he does an amazing job of looking attentive, even when we're basically teaching the class the equivalent of I like burgers (of course it's american, so it has to be burgers) for the fiftieth time) and he needs to practice Japanese.  Now the problem is that he only gets to speak to his mum in English.  Without actually knowing the facts, I'm going to assume he speaks mainly Japanese at home (his dad is Japanese, dads are always the household leaders, and he needs to practice) which means his exposure to English is going to be, at the very best, limited.

He has another four years of this limited exposure.  While English may be one of his native languages, he will lose it.

I understand that should he stop now, he will maintain a base level that far exceeds anything I might hope to achieve with any other language, regardless of how long I study.  He will be able to speak better English in fifty years with no further practice, than I will be able to speak Japanese in fifty years if I practiced every day.

But it won't be great.

It won't be the kind of English that will land him a job.  It won't be good enough for his doors to remain open - he will have to adopt a recruitment procurement technique (shifting paradigms, business rhetoric like) akin to mugging.  Recruitment by slightly-crooked window entry.  He will have to sneak in the back door, as it were.  This, frankly, isn't good enough.

He doesn't know it now, but he will never be accepted in Japan.  He may well try his damndest to get a 'respectable,' (insofar as that means anything anymore) job in Japan, and he may well get his foot into the door.  He may rise a few ranks, get a few promotions, but his job will stagnate and he will be cast aside - regardless of how well he speaks Japanese.

But if the Japanese education system has its way, he won't have enough English to go elsewhere.  He will be, quite literally, stuck.

I find it morally ambiguous (at best) to take a bi-lingual kid and force him to become mono-lingual.  Regardless of whether there are any specific aims for 'homogenisation,' (a term they love to use in the literature here) regarding this specific child, it's cruel to take an option away from someone.  It seems almost worse than not offering that option in the first place.

The Japanese kids I teach will never be able to speak English.  The education system is laughable, the attitude here is one of indifference (again, at best) which leads to English being a comedy subject (much like R.E in England) which means that no one thinks of the significance of language.  They teach their kids to be wary of going outside of Japan, so it's a self-fulfilling circle that they are happy with.

Bringing a kid who has the potential to 'see the world,' (for whatever that means to you) into such an environment; not cool man.

Then again maybe I'm reading too much into this.  Maybe he'll get to university after four years of no English language study, join a programme that allows him to learn and spread his proverbial wings.

Maybe he won't give a crap about English (an entirely valid point of view taken by the vast majority of people, don't forget) and settle into a life of being a person sized, society based skeleton in the closet.

Who knows?

Of Japanese Education, and Other Things

So I though I'd pretend to do some work today, and scan some stuff into the computer.  Of course it was a ruse, nothing constructive was being accomplished, I was merely scanning in some pages to illustrate a point I'm about to make.

Previously, with ridiculous textbooks, I've felt uncomfortable freely using examples in case someone sues me for defamation or libel or something; the textbooks we use are common across Japan however, and I'm sure an entire nation could care less about one man blogging about them.  Therefore, without further ado:  The problems of language teaching in Japan; part two.

So you'll have to forgive the horrible expressions, crappy cartoons and generally poor layout.  They've modelled this after a Japanese comic book (they're massively popular here) and it was made in 2000.  That aside, what you may immediately notice is that everything has the Japanese pronunciation written next to it.  This is the best page I could find in the whole book, that is to say, this page has the least transliteration.  Most pages have more, with detailed descriptions in Japanese for everything.

For the average student who could care less about English, I'm not necessarily against the idea.  The point being that these students will never speak with an Englishman, or Australian, or american ever again.  Leaving school means leaving English interaction.  Essentially, English is a means of testing.  Including the Japanese pronunciations would, at first, appear fine.

However, Japanese has fewer sounds than English, and all their sounds are accompanied with vowels.  Think about this for a moment.  There is no 'm.'  It has to be accompanied with a vowel.  'M,' becomes one of, 'ma, me, mi, mu or mo.'  That means when learning the letters of the alphabet, no one can initially pronounce the consonants correctly.  This would be fine if the students learnt English in isolation, something along the lines of 'this is how it is, if you don't initially learn English along with Japanese sounds, you'll be fine.'  Of course they don't.  I just had a lesson - teaching the kids English sounds, where the Japanese teacher was approximating the sounds into Japanese.  Some of the sounds were reaching three katakana letters in length, just for a single syllable/sound!  Incredibly stupid.

The particularly annoying thing was the insistence of the teacher and student to pronounce everything incorrectly, after I had just corrected them.  Learning 'm,' instead of 'mu,' took a solid minute, only for the teacher to write up 'mu,' in Japanese on the board, and all the kids to immediately embed 'mu,' in their brains - and there it will stay.  Incorrect for all eternity.

On a side note, the chair I'm currently sitting in, while scanning these pictures looks like this starship.  Geek, right?

So basically there is no hope for these kids to ever learn English - they will forever learn Japlish.

To be fair, I can't think of a single teacher I've met who pretends that they teach English.  They all realise the errors, flaws, mistakes, misconceptions and lies perpetrated by their education system.  Afterall, the teachers I work with have been through the system themselves, and have studied English to a level most of these kids won't.  I would be surprised if a single student in this school went on to study English at university.  There must be four hundred and fifty kids in this school.

So ultimately I have to illustrate my frustrations with another page.  I decided I wouldn't pick a page meant for students, as these things are always full of holes.  Instead, how about some spiel aimed at the teachers themselves, in English.  To preface this, it was obviously written by a fluent speaker, and isn't a typical, crazed translation likening life to falling cherry blossoms, and the transience of youth to a flowing river.

Ok so blogspot won't upload the picture.  Maybe I'll try at home.

To be continued.

Update:

This is the page I tried to upload earlier.

Check out the heading 'Human Education.'

Perhaps I was wrong about the wishy-washy Japanese style of writing; it can be, and is translated directly into English.

'English language teaching should contribute to character building and world peace.'

What the.

The words flow like rivers among an ocean of rocky precipices, deftly dodging...  Ok I can't keep this up.  This nonsense has no place in an English language teaching manual, especially one designed for a syllabus whereby the sole aim is to get kids through tests.

And they still haven't taught the kids how to run properly, but now they're making them jump the hurdles.  Literally.  They're running up to the hurdles, stopping, jumping over them, and carrying on.

Ever wondered why you've never seen a single Japanese sprinter/hurdler/sportsman/athelete?  (Except for sumo, where the native Japanese competitors are beaten by south pacific islanders all the time anyway.)