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It's test season again, and the students aren't allowed to enter the staff room, lest they see a test being made over a teacher's shoulder. This set the stage for yet another surprising cultural observation.
The kids don't know many of their teacher's names. It's been almost 2 months, and they don't know their teacher's names. What's going on here? I really want to know. Are the teacher's not introducing themselves properly? Do the kids have that short of memories? They have the unfortunate cop-out of being able to call them "sensei" instead of "Mr.X" which I guess helps explain it, but it still appauls me. Especially because in situation's like today's. Some girls were looking for Ki-sensei to give him their notebooks and they were seriously inconvenienced by not being able to enter the staff room because they had no idea how to ask for him. They didn't know his name. The strangest part was, even though he was easily within earshot, they just kept repeating, "aww...mr. what?...what is it?...mr. what?"
With students like this, I should be glad that only a handful of kids and teachers still call me by the Pred's name. In fact, most of them start excitedly whispering my name just when they see me pass...though that probably has more to do with me standing out like a sore thumb.
As an American, I think this name-forgetting business is really really rude. It must not be rude at all in Japanese culture, however, or one of the swarming teachers would have chided them for it, as the teachers here are so prone to doing.
It's really important to remember people's names in U.S. culture. Barring the exception of meeting many people at once and other extenuating circumstances, if you don't know someone's name, it means you don't care enough about them to remember it. It's a particular pet peeve of mine too, having been often forgotten as a youth. All high school students in the States know their teacher's names by the end of the first week of school, for sure...and if for some strange reason they didn't, they sure as hell would be considered rude if they were standing in the hallway muttering about what it might be.
Still, there's probably two factors at work here, even beyond the "Sensei" cop-out. The first is that names are such a personal thing in Japanese culture that even conceptually people here probably don't bind others to their names to begin with. In American culture, on the other hand, you ARE your name and your name IS you. Forgetting someone's name is almost synonymous with forgetting who someone is.
We like to hear our names. If you call your teachers, "teacher," you're likely to get the "...I have a name," response. As far as I know, family names are usually fair game here too, but even then, it's a perspective thing and he is probably first "the teacher" and second, "a member of the Ki family." - at least in the girls' eyes, though judging by where he spends most of his time and energy, I'd say he's first a teacher as well (subtle dig at overwork culture). In the end, I guess it's not rude to forget a name you're not expected to use. Though it sure makes differentiation between people difficult, I guess that's what Japanese culture is about - not differentiating.
The second factor, is that back home we are individuals and we like to be addressed individually. In Japan, there's no need for directness or personal invitations. Though it matches the culture, it also unnecessarily complicates communicating. If there's any question of this, just consider the situation with the girls and the staffroom wasting 5 minutes and how I fretted for 2 months over how to address a table full of teachers (the answer: you don't :P ). Wasted time, wasted time. I see no harm in calling someone's attention, because eventually if you take it too far, being over-courteous wastes time too.
This really reminds me of how well I fit into Japanese culture. My entire life has been spent writing and re-writing emails so that people don't misunderstand my intentions, hesitating over just the right moment to interrupt, rehearsing phonecalls in my head to make them most expedient for the recipient. In short, all the stuff I've spent the last 5 years trying to stop doing. Part of me sees these patterns and thinks, "Wow, I should've been born Japanese. I'd get along well here." or "Gee, I'm glad I got this job, it must be easier for me to live here and to fit in than a lot of other foreigners." Though I have to say, it still kills me seeing the outcome of such Japanese behaviors when they're unsuccessful. I've spent so much time rewiring my brain to fight it that it wants others to do the same when it sees them struggling.
In the end, I think it's good I was born in the States. If I'd grown up in a culture that didn't actively fight this behavior, I'd probably have turned into one of the pained hypershy high school girls I see today. There's at least one in every class. Conversely, I also consider myself a valuable player in keeping American boldness in check. The U.S. and I, we offset each other well, I think. Just when one starts getting out of hand, the other is there to whip it in line. In the long run, I really appreciate how the U.S. reminds me to speak up and not let hesitation squash my identity.
I'm missing home a little right now.
The kids don't know many of their teacher's names. It's been almost 2 months, and they don't know their teacher's names. What's going on here? I really want to know. Are the teacher's not introducing themselves properly? Do the kids have that short of memories? They have the unfortunate cop-out of being able to call them "sensei" instead of "Mr.X" which I guess helps explain it, but it still appauls me. Especially because in situation's like today's. Some girls were looking for Ki-sensei to give him their notebooks and they were seriously inconvenienced by not being able to enter the staff room because they had no idea how to ask for him. They didn't know his name. The strangest part was, even though he was easily within earshot, they just kept repeating, "aww...mr. what?...what is it?...mr. what?"
With students like this, I should be glad that only a handful of kids and teachers still call me by the Pred's name. In fact, most of them start excitedly whispering my name just when they see me pass...though that probably has more to do with me standing out like a sore thumb.
As an American, I think this name-forgetting business is really really rude. It must not be rude at all in Japanese culture, however, or one of the swarming teachers would have chided them for it, as the teachers here are so prone to doing.
It's really important to remember people's names in U.S. culture. Barring the exception of meeting many people at once and other extenuating circumstances, if you don't know someone's name, it means you don't care enough about them to remember it. It's a particular pet peeve of mine too, having been often forgotten as a youth. All high school students in the States know their teacher's names by the end of the first week of school, for sure...and if for some strange reason they didn't, they sure as hell would be considered rude if they were standing in the hallway muttering about what it might be.
Still, there's probably two factors at work here, even beyond the "Sensei" cop-out. The first is that names are such a personal thing in Japanese culture that even conceptually people here probably don't bind others to their names to begin with. In American culture, on the other hand, you ARE your name and your name IS you. Forgetting someone's name is almost synonymous with forgetting who someone is.
We like to hear our names. If you call your teachers, "teacher," you're likely to get the "...I have a name," response. As far as I know, family names are usually fair game here too, but even then, it's a perspective thing and he is probably first "the teacher" and second, "a member of the Ki family." - at least in the girls' eyes, though judging by where he spends most of his time and energy, I'd say he's first a teacher as well (subtle dig at overwork culture). In the end, I guess it's not rude to forget a name you're not expected to use. Though it sure makes differentiation between people difficult, I guess that's what Japanese culture is about - not differentiating.
The second factor, is that back home we are individuals and we like to be addressed individually. In Japan, there's no need for directness or personal invitations. Though it matches the culture, it also unnecessarily complicates communicating. If there's any question of this, just consider the situation with the girls and the staffroom wasting 5 minutes and how I fretted for 2 months over how to address a table full of teachers (the answer: you don't :P ). Wasted time, wasted time. I see no harm in calling someone's attention, because eventually if you take it too far, being over-courteous wastes time too.
This really reminds me of how well I fit into Japanese culture. My entire life has been spent writing and re-writing emails so that people don't misunderstand my intentions, hesitating over just the right moment to interrupt, rehearsing phonecalls in my head to make them most expedient for the recipient. In short, all the stuff I've spent the last 5 years trying to stop doing. Part of me sees these patterns and thinks, "Wow, I should've been born Japanese. I'd get along well here." or "Gee, I'm glad I got this job, it must be easier for me to live here and to fit in than a lot of other foreigners." Though I have to say, it still kills me seeing the outcome of such Japanese behaviors when they're unsuccessful. I've spent so much time rewiring my brain to fight it that it wants others to do the same when it sees them struggling.
In the end, I think it's good I was born in the States. If I'd grown up in a culture that didn't actively fight this behavior, I'd probably have turned into one of the pained hypershy high school girls I see today. There's at least one in every class. Conversely, I also consider myself a valuable player in keeping American boldness in check. The U.S. and I, we offset each other well, I think. Just when one starts getting out of hand, the other is there to whip it in line. In the long run, I really appreciate how the U.S. reminds me to speak up and not let hesitation squash my identity.
I'm missing home a little right now.