Humour me with my self-referencing, but… I have arrived in Japan. The blog’s aesthetic may need an update, but that is a project without my current time constraints.
This week was orientation. If I had had a charged camera to take and upload pictures, the above space would have shown a notably luxurious hotel conference room. To be short, this week was far more professional and far more rigorous than I had anticipated. I assumed that we would merely be going over paperwork procedures, getting to know the staff and co-workers, learning about company philosophy, and helping those who showed substandard aptitude on the mock lesson that was a part of the interview.
And while this is a fair summary of many of the week’s activities, it skips over an aspect that I can best describe to you as ALT American Idol. Yes, American Idol. Imagine this: impromptu lessons and demonstrations given in front of a room of 60+ peers and executives with three judges. The first judge is the nice guy who reminds you of how hard you’ve worked to get here and how much your students will love your class if you apply yourself. The next judge is the wise-cracker who tells you that your mistakes don’t matter because your focus is more on encouraging a positive experience with foreign language communication than eliciting correct answers. The final judge is an Egyptian-South African version of Simon Cowell. Just as harsh. Just as psychologically intimidating. Yet rather than pop savvy, this man has immense teaching-methodology expertise.
Throughout the week, we were incessantly drilled(or grilled) on improving our teaching techniques and our Japanese cultural sensitivity. From things as basic to crossing legs or putting hands in pockets, to refusing anything offered fewer than three times, to the extreme importance of punctuality. How about an anecdote?
At a few points in training, teachers at each school level broke off into their respective sections to go over age-appropriate instruction. Following one of our satellite sessions, we were supposed to return to the main lecture hall to hear the vice-president of the company speak. The Elementary school group was 5 minutes late. When they arrived, they were directed to the front of the room where they apologised to the group and then each to the Vice-principal individually. This was not a joke or a demonstration to prove a point.
But before I paint too intense a picture, let me tell you about the Patio. The Patio was where I ate every meal this week. The Patio was located in the hotel and was an “American” restaurant. By American, I mean that there were American flags hung throughout, country music in the background, and it was a buffet. The half-hearted attempt at American cuisine was as charming as it was unappetising. I won’t bore you or pain me trying to recall and record the dozen or so butchered dishes. Suffice it to say that I mainly stuck to breakfast curry and miso soup. Not to say that I am unenthused about my Japanese culinary experience, but rather that I look forward to escaping novelty fare. I imagine this restaurant was intended as a comforting transition for the employees, but while I applaud the sentiment, I may be losing weight.
I finally leave for my town tomorrow. I will be able to take care of the final logistic hurdles once I reach my town office. I start work by the books on the 1st, but I do not know when my first day of class will be. My Board of Education is currently finalising my year’s schedule and when I receive this document, not only will I know precisely my responsibilities, but also to a fair degree the duration and dates of my holidays. Which may be sooner than later if I botch my upcoming first impressions.
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