TOP TEN REASONS HANNAH JANE'S "TURNING JAPANESE":
10) Flushes toilet before using the potty, as well as after (It's considered polite to flush before, during and after going)
9) Claims her teddy bears slippers are her "potty slippers"
8) Knows how to use a Japanese toilet
7) Likes and asks for food many American adults might simply find "icky", including seaweed and squid.
6) Likes and asks for her "ohashi" (chopsticks) to eat icky food.
5) Puts her hand over her mouth when she laughs (Japanese women do this)
4) Has her own onsen basket
3) Asks for "fishy crackers" at snacktime, not the "Goldfish" variety but a Japanese rice cracker covered in dried squid, fish, or scallop bits (which smells as appetizing as it sounds)
2) Takes off shoes when she walks into a restaurant. Good if you're at any restaurant in Misawa, Japan, bad if you're at "Applebees" in Charlottesville, Virginia.
1) Says the Japanese "grace" before eating, "Itadikimas" (E-tah-dee-kee-mas) or as she says it, "Icky Ducky Moss!"
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Kindergarten orientation
So last Saturday we had the interesting experience of attending orientation for Hannah Jane's school. She's been in what's considered a cross between day-care and preschool, and now at the ripe age of three, (which she'll be in March) she will officially begin Japanese kindergarten. And let me tell you, from what we saw at orientation, it ain't nothin' like kindergarten in the States!
Our first clue that this would be a whole different experience was the Japanese school marm who lectured us (in angry-sounding Japanese) for a half hour of so, on the importance of maintaining communication with your child ("communication" was in fact the only word we recognized. The whole extent of the lecture was later revealed to me, in broken English, by my translator). Sitting there in tiny kindergarten seats, dressed in business attire and sitting bolt-upright so as to be respectful, we watched as she mimed a fight between two imaginary students, slapping herself over and over and mimicking crying in between. Thinking that we should all let her know that we understand (which of course I didn't, my own translator sitting beside me, puzzled), I started to laugh at her antics in places, only to find the other Japanese parents sitting solemnly, listening. I quickly realized that this was the respectful thing to do, and instead straightened my spine even further, putting on my most serious straight face. After she finished, and we all gave her respectful long bows (from our seats, nonetheless), a man spoke who identified himself to be the chairman of "something something and education" in the whole Amori prefecture -- the giant county-like region in which we reside. So imagine the superintendent or head of the board of education from Albemarle and Madison counties coming to lecture to you at your child's preschool orientation. After a few solemn words which included his lengthy credentials, we were then instructed to proceed upstairs for uniform-fitting and interviews. YES, INTERVIEWS. With both the chairman and the school marm (who turned out to be the encho sensei or principal). So after wrestling with Hannah Jane to fit her properly into these expensive uniforms, we were expected to corral our now hungry/tired toddler into sitting up straight in a wooden chair, across from these two officials, and answer their questions in a respectful manner. Mind you she's TWO. So Rick talked to her just before we went in, and she was able to successfully answer their questions: "My name's Hannah Jane" and "I'm two" (struggling to hold up her index and pinky fingers). So the first 30 seconds of the interview went well -- and then it went downhill. The chairman asked her these questions in English and then turned to our translator to discuss something in Japanese, leaving Hannah Jane to wriggle and wiggle in her chair, ignoring my pleas to sit still. After a few minutes of this during which time she took her "inside shoe" off and made like she was winding up to hurl it at the school marm who was going on still in now concerned-sounding Japanese, I switched tactics from increasing threats ("you are in BIG trouble when you get home!") to rewards ("I'll give you candy!!") This worked. She ceased squirming, looked up at me and stated out right, "I want some candy." I winced, hoping encho sensei didn't understand her, as she was concluding her discussion with our translator. Oh, I forgot to mention that before the Japanese-only discussion started between our translator and the two officials, they asked us, through our translator, what we wanted for our child at this point. As in, what we want for her in life. Right now. At the ripe age of two. While we stumbled trying to put together a respectable-sounding answer our translator could work with (some nonsense ramblings about socialization and getting along with others, none of which I think got translated all that well by the look on hers and their puzzled faces) I thought to myself, "what I want for her right now is to put the poop in the potty so she can attend this friggin' school!" Later, another parent told me the correct answer was "What we want for our child is to learn the Japanese way," a reply that elicited respectable "Aahh!"s and nods from the officials. DUH!! Oh well. They did indeed slide a piece of paper across the table when the interview was done, a certificate that allowed us to pay them ungodly amounts of money in uniform and tuition fees so that our child could attend school there. Confused but happy, we walked outside the interview room where our translator struggled to diplomatically relate what they discussed in Japanese during the interview. It seems they were concerned that Rick and I are old (41 though our translator wrote 42), and that this somehow means we might be babying our child. Well, all I have to say is if we are, this school will straighten her right out!
So she's going full-time now to her "normal" class (the daycare/preschool) now and will begin the transition class on February 1st. Then they'll break for 2-3 weeks in March and start a new school year on April 1, along with all the other Japanese schools. At that time we'll attend an "opening ceremony" which is traditional for most schools and many businesses, when we'll wear our business attire again, officials will address the school (telling the children how important it is to study and work hard, and probably something about health and exercise too) and then she'll begin full-on Japanese kindergarten. She goes for 5-6 hours a day Monday through Friday (no nap), and for a few hours every other Saturday (we have no choice in the matter -- if we want to keep her in the program, she has to attend normal school hours). She'll wear a uniform to school and carry a standard backpack, and when she gets to school, it turns out, she takes OFF this uniform we've paid oodles of money for, and puts on the school's "sports" uniform. For reasons it's unclear to me, she cannot GO to school in this sports attire, it must instead remain at school so that she can change into it. And as the children change themselves all together, they must wear undershirts "for modesty" (which I find funny because they also all go to the bathroom together, boys and girls, and being Japanese, they've also all probably been to onsen already where little boys run around naked in the women's bath and vice versa...nakedness everywhere!) I'm guessing the wearing of the uniform to and from school has to do with the "show" that seems to permeate Japanese culture. In onsen you take a seated shower in front of the other bathers as it is important that everyone see you scrub yourself thoroughly before stepping into the bath. At restaurants you receive a wet cloth at your place setting which allows you to clean your hands in front of your fellow diners. The uniform she'll wear to school I guess is representative of the school and shows others it's a serious school (though its attendants are 2-5 year-olds who would otherwise be making macaroni pictures back in the states). I'll be sure to post some pictures of both outfits once they arrive.
So that's where we are with school. Stay tuned to see if she gets kicked out the first week for throwing her "inside shoe" ......
Our first clue that this would be a whole different experience was the Japanese school marm who lectured us (in angry-sounding Japanese) for a half hour of so, on the importance of maintaining communication with your child ("communication" was in fact the only word we recognized. The whole extent of the lecture was later revealed to me, in broken English, by my translator). Sitting there in tiny kindergarten seats, dressed in business attire and sitting bolt-upright so as to be respectful, we watched as she mimed a fight between two imaginary students, slapping herself over and over and mimicking crying in between. Thinking that we should all let her know that we understand (which of course I didn't, my own translator sitting beside me, puzzled), I started to laugh at her antics in places, only to find the other Japanese parents sitting solemnly, listening. I quickly realized that this was the respectful thing to do, and instead straightened my spine even further, putting on my most serious straight face. After she finished, and we all gave her respectful long bows (from our seats, nonetheless), a man spoke who identified himself to be the chairman of "something something and education" in the whole Amori prefecture -- the giant county-like region in which we reside. So imagine the superintendent or head of the board of education from Albemarle and Madison counties coming to lecture to you at your child's preschool orientation. After a few solemn words which included his lengthy credentials, we were then instructed to proceed upstairs for uniform-fitting and interviews. YES, INTERVIEWS. With both the chairman and the school marm (who turned out to be the encho sensei or principal). So after wrestling with Hannah Jane to fit her properly into these expensive uniforms, we were expected to corral our now hungry/tired toddler into sitting up straight in a wooden chair, across from these two officials, and answer their questions in a respectful manner. Mind you she's TWO. So Rick talked to her just before we went in, and she was able to successfully answer their questions: "My name's Hannah Jane" and "I'm two" (struggling to hold up her index and pinky fingers). So the first 30 seconds of the interview went well -- and then it went downhill. The chairman asked her these questions in English and then turned to our translator to discuss something in Japanese, leaving Hannah Jane to wriggle and wiggle in her chair, ignoring my pleas to sit still. After a few minutes of this during which time she took her "inside shoe" off and made like she was winding up to hurl it at the school marm who was going on still in now concerned-sounding Japanese, I switched tactics from increasing threats ("you are in BIG trouble when you get home!") to rewards ("I'll give you candy!!") This worked. She ceased squirming, looked up at me and stated out right, "I want some candy." I winced, hoping encho sensei didn't understand her, as she was concluding her discussion with our translator. Oh, I forgot to mention that before the Japanese-only discussion started between our translator and the two officials, they asked us, through our translator, what we wanted for our child at this point. As in, what we want for her in life. Right now. At the ripe age of two. While we stumbled trying to put together a respectable-sounding answer our translator could work with (some nonsense ramblings about socialization and getting along with others, none of which I think got translated all that well by the look on hers and their puzzled faces) I thought to myself, "what I want for her right now is to put the poop in the potty so she can attend this friggin' school!" Later, another parent told me the correct answer was "What we want for our child is to learn the Japanese way," a reply that elicited respectable "Aahh!"s and nods from the officials. DUH!! Oh well. They did indeed slide a piece of paper across the table when the interview was done, a certificate that allowed us to pay them ungodly amounts of money in uniform and tuition fees so that our child could attend school there. Confused but happy, we walked outside the interview room where our translator struggled to diplomatically relate what they discussed in Japanese during the interview. It seems they were concerned that Rick and I are old (41 though our translator wrote 42), and that this somehow means we might be babying our child. Well, all I have to say is if we are, this school will straighten her right out!
So she's going full-time now to her "normal" class (the daycare/preschool) now and will begin the transition class on February 1st. Then they'll break for 2-3 weeks in March and start a new school year on April 1, along with all the other Japanese schools. At that time we'll attend an "opening ceremony" which is traditional for most schools and many businesses, when we'll wear our business attire again, officials will address the school (telling the children how important it is to study and work hard, and probably something about health and exercise too) and then she'll begin full-on Japanese kindergarten. She goes for 5-6 hours a day Monday through Friday (no nap), and for a few hours every other Saturday (we have no choice in the matter -- if we want to keep her in the program, she has to attend normal school hours). She'll wear a uniform to school and carry a standard backpack, and when she gets to school, it turns out, she takes OFF this uniform we've paid oodles of money for, and puts on the school's "sports" uniform. For reasons it's unclear to me, she cannot GO to school in this sports attire, it must instead remain at school so that she can change into it. And as the children change themselves all together, they must wear undershirts "for modesty" (which I find funny because they also all go to the bathroom together, boys and girls, and being Japanese, they've also all probably been to onsen already where little boys run around naked in the women's bath and vice versa...nakedness everywhere!) I'm guessing the wearing of the uniform to and from school has to do with the "show" that seems to permeate Japanese culture. In onsen you take a seated shower in front of the other bathers as it is important that everyone see you scrub yourself thoroughly before stepping into the bath. At restaurants you receive a wet cloth at your place setting which allows you to clean your hands in front of your fellow diners. The uniform she'll wear to school I guess is representative of the school and shows others it's a serious school (though its attendants are 2-5 year-olds who would otherwise be making macaroni pictures back in the states). I'll be sure to post some pictures of both outfits once they arrive.
So that's where we are with school. Stay tuned to see if she gets kicked out the first week for throwing her "inside shoe" ......
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