Graduation is on Sunday. Come the end of the day May 20th, I will be leaving Brandeis quite possibly for good, with a Bachelor of Arts in History and East Asian Studies. I don't quite know how to feel about that, to be honest. Now that the day has finally come, it feels almost anticlimactic. Kind of like, what really is different now? Come Monday morning, what will honestly have changed in my life?
There really isn't any one moment I can point to and say "this is the turning point". Unless you want to count an entire year (my junior year spent abroad in Japan, specifically) as a turning point, and I would tend not to. A college education isn't any different in my opinion - it's not like having a piece of paper evokes some magical change on my day-to-day existence, even if it is a piece of paper people recognize as a diploma. It will open doors and say something about who I am to potential employers, and I am grateful for that much. I don't regret getting a college education; indeed, I'm glad I did.
And I can point to so many things that the last four years have done for me. If nothing else, there's the Japanese. I went into college knowing not a word of the language, and I leave it having passed the N2 level of the Japanese Language Proficiency Test intending to use my skill with the language as a key focus for my career. It's a little hard to believe today that I thought Japanese would just be a hobby for me, now that it's become something approaching a defining passion of my life. (That reminds me, I need to put more translations of things up here on my blog... I've been not doing that lately.)
Plus, the people I met. Oh yes. It is kind of sad to think that I might not see some of these people... well, ever again, possibly. Unfortunately, I doubt that any of my job prospects are going to keep me in the Massachusetts area. In between the club activities I participated in and the friends I made along the way, there's a real argument to be made for actually finding a reason to stay in this area! (Which actually wouldn't entirely help, since several of my friends are also going off to do their own things...) Certainly, compared to high school, I feel like I was able to form some semblance of a social life here.
Long story short, college life is coming to an end for me. I am reaching the end of the marked-out paths, the culturally expected route to adulthood, and the time has come for me to start making my own path. And there's definitely a sense of trepidation and uncertainty at that. But so be it - in the grand play of my life, the curtain falls on act I. And feeling uncertain about what will come in act II won't stop it coming, all the same.
Showing posts with label college. Show all posts
Showing posts with label college. Show all posts
2012-05-18
2012-04-25
Take Back the Night!
This evening, I participated in a candlelight march on Brandeis campus to Take Back the Night.
Right as we started, when we all went around the circle to say why we had come to the march, all I could think of to say is that that was where I needed to be. And I'm incredibly glad that I did decide to go. I have never been sexually assaulted myself, but I honestly believe there is no one on this earth who can say that they don't know anyone who's been sexually assaulted. Before tonight, I would have said this: not that I did not know anyone who had been sexually assaulted, but that I had not known anyone who had been willing to trust me with their story.
I am truly awed by the courage and determination of the people that did speak over the course of the march, and I am honored to have been a part of that group, to have been accepted as a part of it and trusted with those stories. Though every word that I heard tonight was worth hearing, I will share but one of those stories here, for only my own story is mine to tell.
As a junior, I went to study abroad in Japan. (My time in Japan is chronicled in an earlier blog of mine.) Commuting - in my case to and from school - is an almost unavoidable part of life in Japan, and so it was for me as well. Returning to my host family's home from school meant a forty-minute train ride, followed by a fifteen-minute walk from the train station to that home. The only way to avoid that walk was to take the bus, an expenditure that I preferred to avoid.
And so I would walk. Fifteen to twenty minutes. Depending on what day it was, sometimes my class schedule would mean walking after sunset. The road was mostly unlit and usually completely deserted. And I would make that walk without hesitation, without fear. My host mother would say that I would be fine - and unsaid every time, that there were some people who wouldn't be. That even though I could walk that in safety, some people - had I been a young woman, rather than a young man, perhaps? - could not count on being safe in such conditions.
My story is a story of nothing happening. Of making that walk in safety, three or more times a week for seven months of my life. And at the end of the march, as I shared that story, the only thing I could think of to say is this: I went this evening so that I could do something. So that I could help in some small way to build a world where everyone can make that walk in safety and without fear.
Right as we started, when we all went around the circle to say why we had come to the march, all I could think of to say is that that was where I needed to be. And I'm incredibly glad that I did decide to go. I have never been sexually assaulted myself, but I honestly believe there is no one on this earth who can say that they don't know anyone who's been sexually assaulted. Before tonight, I would have said this: not that I did not know anyone who had been sexually assaulted, but that I had not known anyone who had been willing to trust me with their story.
I am truly awed by the courage and determination of the people that did speak over the course of the march, and I am honored to have been a part of that group, to have been accepted as a part of it and trusted with those stories. Though every word that I heard tonight was worth hearing, I will share but one of those stories here, for only my own story is mine to tell.
As a junior, I went to study abroad in Japan. (My time in Japan is chronicled in an earlier blog of mine.) Commuting - in my case to and from school - is an almost unavoidable part of life in Japan, and so it was for me as well. Returning to my host family's home from school meant a forty-minute train ride, followed by a fifteen-minute walk from the train station to that home. The only way to avoid that walk was to take the bus, an expenditure that I preferred to avoid.
And so I would walk. Fifteen to twenty minutes. Depending on what day it was, sometimes my class schedule would mean walking after sunset. The road was mostly unlit and usually completely deserted. And I would make that walk without hesitation, without fear. My host mother would say that I would be fine - and unsaid every time, that there were some people who wouldn't be. That even though I could walk that in safety, some people - had I been a young woman, rather than a young man, perhaps? - could not count on being safe in such conditions.
My story is a story of nothing happening. Of making that walk in safety, three or more times a week for seven months of my life. And at the end of the march, as I shared that story, the only thing I could think of to say is this: I went this evening so that I could do something. So that I could help in some small way to build a world where everyone can make that walk in safety and without fear.
2012-04-17
Voices Worth Hearing
Transitioning into an introductory women's and gender studies class has proved to be an interesting experience for me, this semester. Oddly enough, my introduction to feminism was Shakesville, a blog that quite explicitly does not prioritize basic introduction to feminism, and I think that's certainly shaped the way I think about feminism and about progressive issues.
Particularly, we ended up having a spirited debate in class today about consideration of other cultures and viewpoints. Intersectionality has been a critical part of the class pretty much from day one, and I think the best point that came out of today's discussion was that American culture is not in any sense monolithic, and that there are wide racial and class divisions that can't and shouldn't be erased with broad references to American culture.
One thing that I heard in the discussion, however, particularly stuck with me. What does it mean to consider those differences, either between cultures or within them? To me, intersectionality means taking care to ensure that we do not repeat the mistakes that created this culture in the first place - mistakes such as speaking "down" to other perspectives or ignoring voices that should have a place at the table.
I think it's important to say, though, that that doesn't mean every voice deserves equal consideration.
I am a man; I will lose something if the culture that I seek to create is brought to fruition. That doesn't mean I'm being treated unequally; it means that I already have the advantages of male privilege, and that part of creating an equal society will mean erasing those advantages. I accept that as the cost of creating that equal society, because I consider the alternative (the persistence of the existing unequal society) to be worse.
Needless to say, not all men agree with me. There are no small number of voices who denounce what they view as the growing damage being done to men by the feminism that I and others champion. There are no small number of voices who jealously defend their male privilege, whether unknowingly as something they have earned, or knowingly as the proper place of men in the world - and the same could be said of any other privileged group defending its privilege.
The point? Some voices are worth hearing, and intersectionality is the reminder to all of us not to shut out such voices. Some voices can testify to their own personal experiences and provide important perspectives on issues that would otherwise be an unknown to the rest of the participants. Such voices must be respected, honored, and heard.
Other voices, such as those like the ones I discussed in reference to male privilege, seek to defend the privilege they possess. I am under no obligation to show deference to such views. The best I can offer is this: I can take one shot at explaining why such views are harmful, why clinging to privilege is counterproductive. And if it turns out that that voice is not receptive, I will not continue slamming into a brick wall of futility - I'll shut that voice out without a shred of regret.
Intersectionality is the reminder to listen to those voices worth hearing. It is not a demand to respect voices that are better shouted down.
Particularly, we ended up having a spirited debate in class today about consideration of other cultures and viewpoints. Intersectionality has been a critical part of the class pretty much from day one, and I think the best point that came out of today's discussion was that American culture is not in any sense monolithic, and that there are wide racial and class divisions that can't and shouldn't be erased with broad references to American culture.
One thing that I heard in the discussion, however, particularly stuck with me. What does it mean to consider those differences, either between cultures or within them? To me, intersectionality means taking care to ensure that we do not repeat the mistakes that created this culture in the first place - mistakes such as speaking "down" to other perspectives or ignoring voices that should have a place at the table.
I think it's important to say, though, that that doesn't mean every voice deserves equal consideration.
I am a man; I will lose something if the culture that I seek to create is brought to fruition. That doesn't mean I'm being treated unequally; it means that I already have the advantages of male privilege, and that part of creating an equal society will mean erasing those advantages. I accept that as the cost of creating that equal society, because I consider the alternative (the persistence of the existing unequal society) to be worse.
Needless to say, not all men agree with me. There are no small number of voices who denounce what they view as the growing damage being done to men by the feminism that I and others champion. There are no small number of voices who jealously defend their male privilege, whether unknowingly as something they have earned, or knowingly as the proper place of men in the world - and the same could be said of any other privileged group defending its privilege.
The point? Some voices are worth hearing, and intersectionality is the reminder to all of us not to shut out such voices. Some voices can testify to their own personal experiences and provide important perspectives on issues that would otherwise be an unknown to the rest of the participants. Such voices must be respected, honored, and heard.
Other voices, such as those like the ones I discussed in reference to male privilege, seek to defend the privilege they possess. I am under no obligation to show deference to such views. The best I can offer is this: I can take one shot at explaining why such views are harmful, why clinging to privilege is counterproductive. And if it turns out that that voice is not receptive, I will not continue slamming into a brick wall of futility - I'll shut that voice out without a shred of regret.
Intersectionality is the reminder to listen to those voices worth hearing. It is not a demand to respect voices that are better shouted down.
2012-04-03
Freedom to Cause Harm?
[Content note: Harassment]
One of the pervasive negative stereotypes of feminism and sometimes of the entire left wing in general is that we're all humorless jerks who scream "I'M OFFENDED" every time someone makes a joke. That we have no respect for free speech because we're always pushing for laws that restrict the rights of people to say even things that cause offense. This is a common criticism of both hate crimes laws and harassment laws; that we're restricting thought and expression in unacceptable ways. I thought I'd take a moment and address some examples of harassment laws.
One of the pervasive negative stereotypes of feminism and sometimes of the entire left wing in general is that we're all humorless jerks who scream "I'M OFFENDED" every time someone makes a joke. That we have no respect for free speech because we're always pushing for laws that restrict the rights of people to say even things that cause offense. This is a common criticism of both hate crimes laws and harassment laws; that we're restricting thought and expression in unacceptable ways. I thought I'd take a moment and address some examples of harassment laws.
The first is an interesting one, in that it concerns me directly. In point of fact, the Foundation for Individual Rights in Education has placed my school, Brandeis, on their list of the 12 Worst Colleges for Free Speech. Part of that has to do with a pair of cases that I am in all honesty not familiar enough with to comment on, and certainly I don't mean to whitewash or play up my own school - I have no doubt that Brandeis has made plenty of its own mistakes in dealing with speech on campus.
That said, I do want to look at their analysis of Brandeis rules and regulations that have an effect on speech. Two sections are marked with a red icon, indicative of clear and substantial restrictions on freedom of speech - information provided on sexual harassment (particularly the list of "what is sexual harassment") and an excerpt from the internet usage policies (particularly Section 11.4).
For the life of me I can't understand what is objectionable about either of those. The Internet usage policies are one thing (and something we'll come back to in another context), given that they call out "material that is explicitly sexual or offensive" (emphasis mine) as unacceptable. The list of what comprises sexual assault, though... Well, let's see.
What is Sexual Harassment?It may just be me, but I'm pretty sure all of that is unquestionably harmful. None of it should be protected speech!
For example:
* subtle pressure for sexual activity
* unnecessary touches or contact
* offensive sexual graffiti or cartoons
* inappropriate sexual innuendoes
* verbal sexual abuse disguised as humor
* whistling, cat-calls, obscene gestures
Getting back to use of the Internet, I'll introduce topic number two, incidentally the reason I began writing this post in the first place: Kotaku addresses (and by that I mean reposts something from Gizmodo) an Arizona law which they claim makes trolling illegal. We've already discussed my stance on SOPA, of course, but there is a limit to how far I'm willing to take the "freedom of the Internet" card, and this article goes way past it. The law itself, of course...
"It is unlawful for any person, with intent to terrify, intimidate, threaten, harass, annoy or offend, to use any electronic or digital device and use any obscene, lewd or profane language or suggest any lewd or lascivious act, or threaten to inflict physical harm to the person or property of any person."... is much the same as Brandeis's Internet usage policy in a lot of ways. Again, we see that language appear about annoying or offending.
I've written before about how maybe there shouldn't be a law against simply causing offense (and even that isn't quite the point, since I mostly was trying to say that intentionally causing offense is being a jerk regardless of the law), but all the same I'm inclined to walk that back a little. The legal definition of harassment is a consistent pattern of action that serves only to: "alarm or seriously annoy" (Maryland), or "which seriously alarms that person and would cause a reasonable person to suffer substantial emotional distress" (Massachusetts).
I think it is clearly recognized in both cases that annoyance or offense constitutes a kind of real emotional harm to the victim. Calling a consistent pattern of offense "harassment" does nothing to change the fact that causing that offense can in itself be harmful, although not in ways that are outwardly visible. I believe that that in particular is something that I have some measure of personal experience with; my middle and high school days were comparatively mild, and yet I still believe that they affected the way I act around people quite thoroughly - not in positive ways, either.
And unless we want the freedom of speech to become the freedom to cause harm, it's high time we stopped attacking the laws that prevent that kind of thing.
UPDATE: Well, Think Progress is also covering the situation in Arizona, and their opinions seem to be in line with the Kotaku/Gizmodo argument as well. I can't remember the last time I disagreed with Think Progress on something, and I am very much open to argument on this one, because for me disagreeing with people or groups that you usually agree with is a sign that you need to carefully go back over the situation. That said, I believe that the points I made above stand on their own as a response to concerns over the Arizona law.
I think it is clearly recognized in both cases that annoyance or offense constitutes a kind of real emotional harm to the victim. Calling a consistent pattern of offense "harassment" does nothing to change the fact that causing that offense can in itself be harmful, although not in ways that are outwardly visible. I believe that that in particular is something that I have some measure of personal experience with; my middle and high school days were comparatively mild, and yet I still believe that they affected the way I act around people quite thoroughly - not in positive ways, either.
And unless we want the freedom of speech to become the freedom to cause harm, it's high time we stopped attacking the laws that prevent that kind of thing.
UPDATE: Well, Think Progress is also covering the situation in Arizona, and their opinions seem to be in line with the Kotaku/Gizmodo argument as well. I can't remember the last time I disagreed with Think Progress on something, and I am very much open to argument on this one, because for me disagreeing with people or groups that you usually agree with is a sign that you need to carefully go back over the situation. That said, I believe that the points I made above stand on their own as a response to concerns over the Arizona law.
2012-03-30
Human Costs
And Maid in America joins the very short list of movies that have brought me to the verge of tears. Grave of the Fireflies is the only other movie I remember which has managed to do that. (There might be more such examples from my childhood, but those are the only two recent examples.) I mean, a lot of movies try to get you to empathize with the main characters, so it's not like those two movies are special in that regard. Perhaps the best way to put it is that those two really succeeded.
Immigration policy, of course, has become one of the particular wedge issues in American politics. There's a large contingent of politicians, mostly those on the right wing, who argue quite passionately that we can't let people "get away" with entering this country illegally, and oppose any hint of measures that would open our doors wider or recognize any of the undocumented immigrants in this country today.
Likewise, foreign policy is and will almost certainly remain a major point of contention. There are those who want to prevent Iran from acquiring nuclear weapons by any means necessary, including military action, and would happily engage us in yet another undeclared war on a foreign country in support of that end.
If there is one thing that never seems to enter the discussion, at least not from those people who support hard-line stances on immigration or foreign policy, it is the human cost of the policies they advocate. What those two movies did, and did well enough to drive me almost to tears, was to illustrate that human cost in a way that is impossible to ignore.
What I remember from watching Grave of the Fireflies is a picture of two kids caught up in the bombing of the city of Kobe, who lost their family and were forced to survive on their own in the end. What I saw today watching Maid in America was a picture of families torn apart and people struggling to do right by themselves and their children, confronted with a system which offers them no protection and indeed constantly threatens them.
I have my own opinions, on immigration policy and on foreign policy. I have my own opinions on World War II. But in the end, none of those are truly relevant here. Whether you think we should or should not offer amnesty, whether you think we should or should not have firebombed Japanese cities in the Second World War, we cannot ignore the fact that these decisions will affect millions of people.
Argue what you will, and I will agree or disagree as I choose. All I ask is that you do not ignore this one simple fact: that these policies and decisions carry their own human costs, and will have a real effect on actual people.
Immigration policy, of course, has become one of the particular wedge issues in American politics. There's a large contingent of politicians, mostly those on the right wing, who argue quite passionately that we can't let people "get away" with entering this country illegally, and oppose any hint of measures that would open our doors wider or recognize any of the undocumented immigrants in this country today.
Likewise, foreign policy is and will almost certainly remain a major point of contention. There are those who want to prevent Iran from acquiring nuclear weapons by any means necessary, including military action, and would happily engage us in yet another undeclared war on a foreign country in support of that end.
If there is one thing that never seems to enter the discussion, at least not from those people who support hard-line stances on immigration or foreign policy, it is the human cost of the policies they advocate. What those two movies did, and did well enough to drive me almost to tears, was to illustrate that human cost in a way that is impossible to ignore.
What I remember from watching Grave of the Fireflies is a picture of two kids caught up in the bombing of the city of Kobe, who lost their family and were forced to survive on their own in the end. What I saw today watching Maid in America was a picture of families torn apart and people struggling to do right by themselves and their children, confronted with a system which offers them no protection and indeed constantly threatens them.
I have my own opinions, on immigration policy and on foreign policy. I have my own opinions on World War II. But in the end, none of those are truly relevant here. Whether you think we should or should not offer amnesty, whether you think we should or should not have firebombed Japanese cities in the Second World War, we cannot ignore the fact that these decisions will affect millions of people.
Argue what you will, and I will agree or disagree as I choose. All I ask is that you do not ignore this one simple fact: that these policies and decisions carry their own human costs, and will have a real effect on actual people.
2012-02-02
Milestones in Japanese
I'm taking two history classes this semester. In at least one of them, the fact that I'm taking my notes in Japanese seems to have become somewhat of an open secret. Although I would have no idea whether or not the professors (of either class) are aware of the situation. It's not something I bothered to hide last semester either, really. In my classes on the two World Wars, I did the same thing, and in those classes the professors did find out.
Simply put, my Japanese is now at the level where simply trying to study disconnected vocabulary and grammar points becomes somewhat pointless. Certainly, I still need to work on my vocabulary, but then that will be true for years to come. At this point, what I need to focus on is using Japanese.
My trip to Japan for study abroad was probably what drove that point home. Prior to leaving for Japan, I was reasonably confident in my Japanese ability, and I was looking forward to using it to get me from the airport to the hotel where my program was gathering. I don't think I had fully accounted for a few things. Like the difference between classroom and reality, or the existence of jet lag, or a number of other problems. And two quick encounters, one at the airport's train station ticket counter and the other in the taxi at Kyoto Station, made it abundantly clear how much harder it is to actually use the language.
This is why I think study abroad is such a powerful boost to language, and why it served that purpose for me. Mastery over a language comes with its constant use, and studying in a country where that language is spoken ensures that you can (and in some cases, must) use it for literally everything. Here in the U.S., that's harder to do. I make up for it by surrounding myself with Japanese as much as possible; all of my music is in Japanese, I watch Japanese anime, I even try to read Japanese books and manga sometimes. But then again, I did that before I left for Japan, too.
Part of that does speak to the necessity of classroom-style learning. Taking someone who knows no Japanese, or very little Japanese, and asking them to process the language anyway only works when the person in question is unusually motivated to learn Japanese, which few people are. Once the base knowledge is there, using the language for anything (including asking about new words or grammar points) becomes important; before that point, doing so usually just sparks confusion at best.
The other half of that, though, suggests that even that isn't enough in the end. Listening to music, watching anime, even reading a book... they're all input. And no matter how much that helps me understand Japanese (which it does), I still need to be able to generate the language as well. So, I take notes in Japanese - because this is the kind of thing I need to be able to do if I want to be able to function entirely in Japanese.
Simply put, my Japanese is now at the level where simply trying to study disconnected vocabulary and grammar points becomes somewhat pointless. Certainly, I still need to work on my vocabulary, but then that will be true for years to come. At this point, what I need to focus on is using Japanese.
My trip to Japan for study abroad was probably what drove that point home. Prior to leaving for Japan, I was reasonably confident in my Japanese ability, and I was looking forward to using it to get me from the airport to the hotel where my program was gathering. I don't think I had fully accounted for a few things. Like the difference between classroom and reality, or the existence of jet lag, or a number of other problems. And two quick encounters, one at the airport's train station ticket counter and the other in the taxi at Kyoto Station, made it abundantly clear how much harder it is to actually use the language.
This is why I think study abroad is such a powerful boost to language, and why it served that purpose for me. Mastery over a language comes with its constant use, and studying in a country where that language is spoken ensures that you can (and in some cases, must) use it for literally everything. Here in the U.S., that's harder to do. I make up for it by surrounding myself with Japanese as much as possible; all of my music is in Japanese, I watch Japanese anime, I even try to read Japanese books and manga sometimes. But then again, I did that before I left for Japan, too.
Part of that does speak to the necessity of classroom-style learning. Taking someone who knows no Japanese, or very little Japanese, and asking them to process the language anyway only works when the person in question is unusually motivated to learn Japanese, which few people are. Once the base knowledge is there, using the language for anything (including asking about new words or grammar points) becomes important; before that point, doing so usually just sparks confusion at best.
The other half of that, though, suggests that even that isn't enough in the end. Listening to music, watching anime, even reading a book... they're all input. And no matter how much that helps me understand Japanese (which it does), I still need to be able to generate the language as well. So, I take notes in Japanese - because this is the kind of thing I need to be able to do if I want to be able to function entirely in Japanese.
2011-10-29
Carved Into Memory
刻まれた記憶
Today, I presented a speech at the twelfth annual Boston Area Speech Presentation, in which Japanese students from several Boston area schools present speeches on topics of their choosing. I was the fifteenth of seventeen students to present a speech.
今日、僕は第12回ボストン近郊スピーチ発表会でスピーチを発表した。その発表会はボストン近郊の大学からの日本語の学生が色々な題についてのスピーチを発表するイベントだ。僕は17人の中の15番目の発表だった。
When I was coming up with a topic, one of the options was to talk about my experience studying abroad. I wanted to do so, but had a hard time picking out any one thing to talk about from my time in Japan. It was when I thought about how my study abroad program ended that I finally found my topic. And so, although it is somewhat of a dark subject, I ended up talking about memories of the 11th of March, and of the events of the next few days.
題について考える時に、一つの選択肢は留学の時について話すことだった。したかったけれど、一つのことを選びにくくなった。留学の時の終わりと考えて、題を決めた。だから、ちょっと暗い題だけれど、3月11日の記憶と数日後の出来事について発表した。
The full text of my speech (and its English translation) follows.
以下のは、僕のスピーチだ。
刻まれた記憶
Carved Into Memory
僕は去年KCJSという留学プログラムに参加して、一年くらい京都で日本語や日本文化を勉強しました。本当に素晴らしい経験でしたが、一番思い出すのは素晴らしいことではありません。勉強したことや京都で出会った人々や観光した所などではありません。僕の心に刻まれたのは3月11日の記憶。あの日、仙台の東で、大地震が起こって東北地方が大きな被害を受けてしまったことです。
Last year, I participated in a study abroad program called KCJS, spending about a year in Kyoto studying Japanese language and culture. It was truly a wonderful experience, but the first thing I remember of it is not at all wonderful. Rather than the things that I studied, the people that I met, or the places that I visited... what has been carved into my heart are memories of the 11th of March. On that day, east of Sendai, a massive earthquake struck and dealt a great deal of damage to the Touhoku region.
それが心に刻まれたと言うことは、当然かどうか分かりませんが、一つの確かなことは、前にもそんな複雑な気持ちになった。僕にとって、アメリカ人にとって、9月11日のテロ事件があった時です。その日、僕は中学校の一年生でした。校長が校内放送で「ニューヨークで誰かがツインタワーに飛行機を突入させた」と話しました。一つだけ覚えてる僕の反応、何かの冗談だと思ってしまったことです。
I do not know whether it is natural for me to say that those memories have been carved into my heart, but one thing I know for sure is that I have felt this complex emotion before. For myself, for Americans, there was the time of the September 11th terrorist attacks. That day, I was in the sixth grade. The principal came on over the PA system, saying that someone had flown a plane into the World Trade Center in New York. The one and only thing I can remember of my response was that I had thought that it was some kind of joke.
同じように、日本人の心に、その日のことが心に刻まれたのは当然です。あの大震災があったと聞いた時、どこにいたのか、何をしていたのか。そんなことが思い出されるでしょう。僕には9月11日のことと同じように、一つか二つだけのことがはっきり思い出されます。僕のプログラムの図書室にいると、三時ごろだったでしょうか、友達が飛び込んできて「何か起こった」と言いました。「ニュースを聞いてたら、大きな地震が起こったそうだ。インターネットで調べよう。」と言いました。
In the same way, for the Japanese, it is natural to say that the events of that day are carved into their hearts. When you heard that there had been a major earthquake, where were you? What were you doing? These things come immediately to mind. In the same fashion as September 11th is for me, one or two things are clearly remembered. When I was in my program's library, probably about 3 o'clock, one of my friends came running in saying that something had happened. That according to the news, a large earthquake had struck, and that we should check online.
本当の事は分からないし、僕は何も感じませんでした。ホストファミリーのはなしでは、何か小さなゆれを感じたそうです。それよりも、数日後のニュースが本当に刻まれた記憶です。それはただのビデオでした。場所ははっきりしません。東北の海岸の町。録画した人は、確かにその町に住んでいる人でした。もう避難して、町の丘の上から津波を録画していました。何度も、何度も、「水が港の境を越えて」と繰り返しながら．．．
At the time I had no idea what was truly happening, nor had I felt so much as a twitch. According to my host family, they had felt some kind of small vibration. More than that, though, the news from a few days later has been permanently carved into me. It was just a simple video. I don't remember quite where the place was; a town on the Touhoku coastline. The person recording it was almost certainly someone who lived there. They had already evacuated, and he was filming the tsunami from a hill above the village. Repeating over, and over, and over, "the water is coming over the harbor wall"...
どうしてそんなにはっきり覚えているのでしょう？ 僕はアメリカ人であって、日本語を勉強していること以外どんな関係があるのでしょうか？そんな強い関係．．．いや、絆と呼んだほうがいいかな．．．それがあるのは、当然なのでしょうか？…当然だと思います。僕だけではなく、世界のみんながその一瞬の出来事で日本を応援するために行動しました。再構築のために、人を助けるために．．． こころの中に一人ではないという気持ちが溢れ出しました。
How is it that I can still remember this so clearly? I am an American, and beyond studying Japanese what connection do I have to Japan? For that connection... or perhaps it would be best to call it a bond... to be this strong, is that to be expected? I believe that it is. It wasn't just me, but the entire world that, in that moment, came to Japan's aid. For the sake of rebuilding, helping the people there... in our hearts, a feeling of "you are not alone" came pouring out.
この気持ちがあふれ出たのは、人間の持つ素晴らしさだと思います。この気持ちこそ全世界の人々を一つにする力があります。その気持ちを忘れないように心に刻んでいるのなら、もっといい世界、未来が作られると本当に信じています。
That such a feeling can overflow like that is one of the greatest things about the human race. That feeling has the power to bring all of the people of the world closer together. And if we carve that feeling into our hearts, so that we never forget it, I truly believe that we can build an even better future.
今日、僕は第12回ボストン近郊スピーチ発表会でスピーチを発表した。その発表会はボストン近郊の大学からの日本語の学生が色々な題についてのスピーチを発表するイベントだ。僕は17人の中の15番目の発表だった。
When I was coming up with a topic, one of the options was to talk about my experience studying abroad. I wanted to do so, but had a hard time picking out any one thing to talk about from my time in Japan. It was when I thought about how my study abroad program ended that I finally found my topic. And so, although it is somewhat of a dark subject, I ended up talking about memories of the 11th of March, and of the events of the next few days.
題について考える時に、一つの選択肢は留学の時について話すことだった。したかったけれど、一つのことを選びにくくなった。留学の時の終わりと考えて、題を決めた。だから、ちょっと暗い題だけれど、3月11日の記憶と数日後の出来事について発表した。
The full text of my speech (and its English translation) follows.
以下のは、僕のスピーチだ。
刻まれた記憶
Carved Into Memory
僕は去年KCJSという留学プログラムに参加して、一年くらい京都で日本語や日本文化を勉強しました。本当に素晴らしい経験でしたが、一番思い出すのは素晴らしいことではありません。勉強したことや京都で出会った人々や観光した所などではありません。僕の心に刻まれたのは3月11日の記憶。あの日、仙台の東で、大地震が起こって東北地方が大きな被害を受けてしまったことです。
Last year, I participated in a study abroad program called KCJS, spending about a year in Kyoto studying Japanese language and culture. It was truly a wonderful experience, but the first thing I remember of it is not at all wonderful. Rather than the things that I studied, the people that I met, or the places that I visited... what has been carved into my heart are memories of the 11th of March. On that day, east of Sendai, a massive earthquake struck and dealt a great deal of damage to the Touhoku region.
それが心に刻まれたと言うことは、当然かどうか分かりませんが、一つの確かなことは、前にもそんな複雑な気持ちになった。僕にとって、アメリカ人にとって、9月11日のテロ事件があった時です。その日、僕は中学校の一年生でした。校長が校内放送で「ニューヨークで誰かがツインタワーに飛行機を突入させた」と話しました。一つだけ覚えてる僕の反応、何かの冗談だと思ってしまったことです。
I do not know whether it is natural for me to say that those memories have been carved into my heart, but one thing I know for sure is that I have felt this complex emotion before. For myself, for Americans, there was the time of the September 11th terrorist attacks. That day, I was in the sixth grade. The principal came on over the PA system, saying that someone had flown a plane into the World Trade Center in New York. The one and only thing I can remember of my response was that I had thought that it was some kind of joke.
同じように、日本人の心に、その日のことが心に刻まれたのは当然です。あの大震災があったと聞いた時、どこにいたのか、何をしていたのか。そんなことが思い出されるでしょう。僕には9月11日のことと同じように、一つか二つだけのことがはっきり思い出されます。僕のプログラムの図書室にいると、三時ごろだったでしょうか、友達が飛び込んできて「何か起こった」と言いました。「ニュースを聞いてたら、大きな地震が起こったそうだ。インターネットで調べよう。」と言いました。
In the same way, for the Japanese, it is natural to say that the events of that day are carved into their hearts. When you heard that there had been a major earthquake, where were you? What were you doing? These things come immediately to mind. In the same fashion as September 11th is for me, one or two things are clearly remembered. When I was in my program's library, probably about 3 o'clock, one of my friends came running in saying that something had happened. That according to the news, a large earthquake had struck, and that we should check online.
本当の事は分からないし、僕は何も感じませんでした。ホストファミリーのはなしでは、何か小さなゆれを感じたそうです。それよりも、数日後のニュースが本当に刻まれた記憶です。それはただのビデオでした。場所ははっきりしません。東北の海岸の町。録画した人は、確かにその町に住んでいる人でした。もう避難して、町の丘の上から津波を録画していました。何度も、何度も、「水が港の境を越えて」と繰り返しながら．．．
At the time I had no idea what was truly happening, nor had I felt so much as a twitch. According to my host family, they had felt some kind of small vibration. More than that, though, the news from a few days later has been permanently carved into me. It was just a simple video. I don't remember quite where the place was; a town on the Touhoku coastline. The person recording it was almost certainly someone who lived there. They had already evacuated, and he was filming the tsunami from a hill above the village. Repeating over, and over, and over, "the water is coming over the harbor wall"...
どうしてそんなにはっきり覚えているのでしょう？ 僕はアメリカ人であって、日本語を勉強していること以外どんな関係があるのでしょうか？そんな強い関係．．．いや、絆と呼んだほうがいいかな．．．それがあるのは、当然なのでしょうか？…当然だと思います。僕だけではなく、世界のみんながその一瞬の出来事で日本を応援するために行動しました。再構築のために、人を助けるために．．． こころの中に一人ではないという気持ちが溢れ出しました。
How is it that I can still remember this so clearly? I am an American, and beyond studying Japanese what connection do I have to Japan? For that connection... or perhaps it would be best to call it a bond... to be this strong, is that to be expected? I believe that it is. It wasn't just me, but the entire world that, in that moment, came to Japan's aid. For the sake of rebuilding, helping the people there... in our hearts, a feeling of "you are not alone" came pouring out.
この気持ちがあふれ出たのは、人間の持つ素晴らしさだと思います。この気持ちこそ全世界の人々を一つにする力があります。その気持ちを忘れないように心に刻んでいるのなら、もっといい世界、未来が作られると本当に信じています。
That such a feeling can overflow like that is one of the greatest things about the human race. That feeling has the power to bring all of the people of the world closer together. And if we carve that feeling into our hearts, so that we never forget it, I truly believe that we can build an even better future.
2011-10-21
Passing Judgment
I don't think I've ever mentioned before on here that I do Mock Trial.
There's a story there. Back when I started my university career, I thought I wanted to be a lawyer, and then a judge, and then a Supreme Court justice. Use of the past tense intentional. Perhaps I will still go to law school one day, but not right after graduation. That's not at all unusual these days, or so I am given to understand.
Anyway, the point of this is that I still do Mock Trial despite no longer wanting to go to law school. And in some strange sense, it's still fun. I say "in some strange sense" because honestly, it's a lot of work to handle Mock Trial, even as a witness. Catch me at the wrong moment (especially right after practices!) and you'll find me in a really foul mood.
Part of it has to do with the fact that Mock Trial isn't actually trying to replicate a trial. Well, it is, but it's also a performance. And the people that you find to judge that performance will not only often share a specific set of expectations and biases (they're mostly lawyers, with all that that implies), they'll also each have their own little pet peeves and preferences. One judge will consider a certain performance flawless and give it a 10; the other will spend five minutes after the trial pointing out all of the flaws in it after having given it a 6. And sometimes I feel like there's a little too much focus on those numbers, which is all the worse considering that the idea that this is judged objectively is frankly ridiculous in so many ways.
Why do I still do it, then? Of course it's no fun to sit around for an hour having every little gesture critiqued in different ways. (And even that is an exaggeration, although not by much.) And despite my apparent dislike for it, I'm still here. I'd have to say that it's because just like anything else, when everything comes together and works like it's supposed to... well, it's fun.
Perhaps this is too obvious? Passing judgment on something so quickly, just because practices tend to get onerous sometimes, really doesn't make sense. I'll be at a tournament this weekend. And we'll see what happens there.
There's a story there. Back when I started my university career, I thought I wanted to be a lawyer, and then a judge, and then a Supreme Court justice. Use of the past tense intentional. Perhaps I will still go to law school one day, but not right after graduation. That's not at all unusual these days, or so I am given to understand.
Anyway, the point of this is that I still do Mock Trial despite no longer wanting to go to law school. And in some strange sense, it's still fun. I say "in some strange sense" because honestly, it's a lot of work to handle Mock Trial, even as a witness. Catch me at the wrong moment (especially right after practices!) and you'll find me in a really foul mood.
Part of it has to do with the fact that Mock Trial isn't actually trying to replicate a trial. Well, it is, but it's also a performance. And the people that you find to judge that performance will not only often share a specific set of expectations and biases (they're mostly lawyers, with all that that implies), they'll also each have their own little pet peeves and preferences. One judge will consider a certain performance flawless and give it a 10; the other will spend five minutes after the trial pointing out all of the flaws in it after having given it a 6. And sometimes I feel like there's a little too much focus on those numbers, which is all the worse considering that the idea that this is judged objectively is frankly ridiculous in so many ways.
Why do I still do it, then? Of course it's no fun to sit around for an hour having every little gesture critiqued in different ways. (And even that is an exaggeration, although not by much.) And despite my apparent dislike for it, I'm still here. I'd have to say that it's because just like anything else, when everything comes together and works like it's supposed to... well, it's fun.
Perhaps this is too obvious? Passing judgment on something so quickly, just because practices tend to get onerous sometimes, really doesn't make sense. I'll be at a tournament this weekend. And we'll see what happens there.
2011-09-03
Interest and Learning
So I tracked down an article related to teaching, an article that discusses engaging students in the classroom. It was actually quite timely for me, considering that I have a tutoring job this semester here at Brandeis, and one of the challenges I am assuredly going to face is how to get my fellow students to engage with the material and with my efforts to help them understand it. Of course, as a student myself, I have a slightly different perspective on the matter than the article, which is written by a former teacher and directed at teachers.
I found the conclusion especially interesting:
I began studying Japanese because I wanted to know Japanese. Nothing more. It had nothing to do with my major (at the time!). It wasn't precisely a required class; although I did need to take a foreign language, it didn't have to be Japanese. It was as close as I could get to a class that literally had no pressure on me. And way back then, my freshman year of college, it was probably the one class that I really, honestly had an interest in taking.
Three years later, it is my major, and probably my most significant marketable skill. That's not an accident.
No matter how many punishments are laid down, you simply cannot force someone to do something that they do not want to do. Punishment and coercion is usually viewed as such, as forcing someone to do something. But that's not actually the case. All that does is change the equation for the person actually making the decision: don't want to learn this? Well, how about now that you'll be expelled if you don't? And the problem with that is that the student can still say "no" even when the punishments grow severe. Can still go through the motions without actually doing anything of value.
Interest has to be central to learning. How to keep students interested, or how to change the system to encourage keeping students interested...? If only I had the answers. All I know is that whatever they are, we need to find them.
I found the conclusion especially interesting:
We tell more than we ask; we direct more than we listen; we use our power to pressure or even punish students whose interests don't align with ours. This has any number of unfortunate results, including loss of both self-confidence and interest in learning. But let's not forget to number among the sad consequences the fact that many students quite understandably choose to keep the important parts of themselves hidden from us. That's a shame in its own right, and it also prevents us from being the best teachers we can be.Perhaps it is my different perspective. But I had thought that would have been obvious long ago.
I began studying Japanese because I wanted to know Japanese. Nothing more. It had nothing to do with my major (at the time!). It wasn't precisely a required class; although I did need to take a foreign language, it didn't have to be Japanese. It was as close as I could get to a class that literally had no pressure on me. And way back then, my freshman year of college, it was probably the one class that I really, honestly had an interest in taking.
Three years later, it is my major, and probably my most significant marketable skill. That's not an accident.
No matter how many punishments are laid down, you simply cannot force someone to do something that they do not want to do. Punishment and coercion is usually viewed as such, as forcing someone to do something. But that's not actually the case. All that does is change the equation for the person actually making the decision: don't want to learn this? Well, how about now that you'll be expelled if you don't? And the problem with that is that the student can still say "no" even when the punishments grow severe. Can still go through the motions without actually doing anything of value.
Interest has to be central to learning. How to keep students interested, or how to change the system to encourage keeping students interested...? If only I had the answers. All I know is that whatever they are, we need to find them.
2011-08-31
What I Can and Cannot Do
Want to get on my bad side quickly? Tell me I can't do something.
This is, of course, an exaggeration, and requires some careful explanation. I will not be offended if you tell me that I cannot fly by flapping my arms. Nor will I be offended if you were to tell me that I could not run a marathon tomorrow, although I would probably be a little irritated for a few minutes. And at the end of a long period of training and preparation when I actually did run a marathon, I would most likely be mildly insufferable, assuming I remembered the earlier incident at all. (Which I probably wouldn't.)
"Should" is a different word than "can", of course. Questions as to whether I should believe in God or how I should treat others are usually questions that deserve discussion, and I will not be offended if someone comes to me with a legitimate interest in having that kind of discussion. Without that legitimate interest, you likely will offend me, and telling me what I should or should not do without so much as an explanation will provoke a similar response.
So now that I've explained the exceptions, what was I getting at in the first place? Given that I am a college student, and classes start tomorrow, I might as well draw on those experiences for my examples.
Back in my freshman year, I signed up for what was billed as a lecture class in the politics department. This was back when I thought I wanted to be a politics major, and the class offerings that semester were very slim, thus leading me to sign up for this class that I had little interest in merely to preserve my "politics" credit, so to speak. When I got there on the first day and realized that limited sign-ups had turned the class into a seminar (requiring much more active participation from all students, usually aimed at upper-class students) with an extended research paper, I knew I was in for it.
The problem was that from the beginning, the professor knew that too. Could I have gone to her and said "I want to give this a shot"...? Well, we can't know now. All I can say is that it was alternatively disheartening and irritating for me to talk to her saying "I don't know about this" and to have her reply, effectively, "you're absolutely right to be worried because you shouldn't be in my class at all." Needless to say, pretty much the first thing I did was go and drop the class.
That was with a class that I didn't want to take. I agreed with the professor and still found it incredibly disheartening. When it comes to a class that I do want to take, a task I want to complete successfully, a field in which I want to be skilled? Well then, we'll find out what I can and cannot do when I do it, or when I fail.
And if I want to do something, I don't usually plan to fail.
2011-08-30
Hurricane Irene and Moving Onward
*Sigh* I am tired.
Among the consequences of Hurricane Irene was the power that usually runs not only my computer but my wireless router. I feel like there's been a lot of "this wasn't as bad as the hype predicted" running around in the wake of the storm (like on The Oatmeal), but it's a little hard to take that seriously when you can go outside and see the pair of power lines flanking your driveway that have been sheared off a few feet down from the top.
There's no doubt that this was a weak Category 1. This wasn't another Katrina. But even a Cat 1 verging on a tropical storm can flood rivers and knock down power for entire regions. Which Irene did, and did with a vengeance. Power is still not back at my house, I am told.
I have to be told this because I essentially followed the storm back up the coast. I am back at school now, waiting for classes to begin. Which is nice because now I have power. Packing up in the wake of the storm and having to drive up the coast about a day behind it was tiring all in itself, but certainly survivable.
The other half of "not much damage" is that everyone was warned. The earthquake was sudden, as was the stronger one in Japan back in March that created a tsunami and devastated the Touhoku region. Irene gave everyone plenty of time to prepare... and perhaps because of the hype, people did.
Just a thought. The biggest danger moving forward is actually fairly simple; the next time the Weather Channel hypes up a storm, I could see a lot of people saying, "well, the last time you all said this, it really wasn't that bad". I would hope that we don't allow that kind of complacency, no matter how much hype there was.
Among the consequences of Hurricane Irene was the power that usually runs not only my computer but my wireless router. I feel like there's been a lot of "this wasn't as bad as the hype predicted" running around in the wake of the storm (like on The Oatmeal), but it's a little hard to take that seriously when you can go outside and see the pair of power lines flanking your driveway that have been sheared off a few feet down from the top.
There's no doubt that this was a weak Category 1. This wasn't another Katrina. But even a Cat 1 verging on a tropical storm can flood rivers and knock down power for entire regions. Which Irene did, and did with a vengeance. Power is still not back at my house, I am told.
I have to be told this because I essentially followed the storm back up the coast. I am back at school now, waiting for classes to begin. Which is nice because now I have power. Packing up in the wake of the storm and having to drive up the coast about a day behind it was tiring all in itself, but certainly survivable.
The other half of "not much damage" is that everyone was warned. The earthquake was sudden, as was the stronger one in Japan back in March that created a tsunami and devastated the Touhoku region. Irene gave everyone plenty of time to prepare... and perhaps because of the hype, people did.
Just a thought. The biggest danger moving forward is actually fairly simple; the next time the Weather Channel hypes up a storm, I could see a lot of people saying, "well, the last time you all said this, it really wasn't that bad". I would hope that we don't allow that kind of complacency, no matter how much hype there was.
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