Language Teaching in Japan
Some of you have urged me to update my blog. Here's an essay which I wrote for my English class.
I am a Malaysian. I am a Malaysian Chinese. I am a Chinese Malaysian. Yet, “Who are you, exactly?” some ask.
Who am I? My reply is largely contingent on the mentality of my audience. Frankly speaking, I will normally tell a Japanese that “I’m Malaysian, desu”, as to be as succinct as possible, since my past conversational experiences have told me nothing but the complete ignorance of ethnic issues deeply rooted in the Japanese community. For instance, asking any Japanese university student about the existence of the Ainu people who are native to Hokkaido will almost always bring about answers which are peculiarly similar by conveying a message such as this- “But they’re ethnically Japanese too.” In my defense, I did try disapproving such a bold statement once, but I am quite sure that will also be my last attempt.
Worse still, they have come up with a social order which can be rather unidimensional by somehow managing to fit every living being in it. To understand the underlying statement, consider the following story.
I had been looking for a part-time job since the beginning of this semester. I was hoping to teach Japanese kids English since I thought, “If [Insert Japanese Name Here] who speaks mediocre English could find a job teaching secondary school students how to communicate in English, why can’t I?” Henceforth, I decided to give it a try last Friday, and little did I know that would also end my search once and for all. The telephone conversation went a little like this:
Note: Minor modifications have been made to retain the subtle syntactical difference which might be lost in translation.
Me: Hi, is this XXX Eikaiwa? I’m Lim Liang Chun, calling to inquire about the job… (Unfinished)
Mr. X: Pardon me. Did you say your name was “RI-N RI-A….-N”? I suppose you’re a Chinese. I’m sorry. We don’t usually hire CHINESE people to teach English…
To tell you the truth, that comment was extremely disconcerting. I had never felt so humiliated before. So, to avenge my bruised pride, I came up with something like this:
Me: Sorry, I’m afraid you’re confused by my Chinese sounding name. I’m actually an AMERICAN, currently residing in Japan. As I was saying, about the job…
Mr. X: Oh I see. Your Japanese sounds perfect. How long have you been living in Japan? We would be glad to interview you. When will you be available? It would be our pleasure to have you on board.
Me: (Beep…Beep…Beep)
Clearly, I couldn’t take it anymore. Even though I had been well acquainted with the fact that most Japanese are obsessed with the term “American”, the change in attitude was simply baffling. I knew I had to try it again, so yesterday, I was up for trial No.2.
Me: Hello, I’m Lim Chun Liang, a SINGAPOREAN calling to inquire…
Mr. X: (Murmuring) Oh, a Singaporean, huh? I suppose Singapore is somehow associated with the Anglosphere. Why don’t you send us a resume and then we’ll talk.
Me: (Beep…Beep…Beep)
If that wasn’t degrading enough, try this for a change. Today,
Me: Hello, I’m Chun Liang Lim, a MALAYSIAN…
Mr. X: I’M SORRY. WE ARE NOT HIRING. GOOD DAY. (Beep…Beep…Beep)
P/S: To make things fair, I called the same company three times, each with a different phone.
What is the moral of the story? In the corporate world of Eikaiwa, being American RULES, while the rest, and by “the rest”, I mean Asians, are awfully ill-treated. Am I exaggerating? I suppose my next story will perhaps shed some light.
A few weeks ago, I found myself sitting in front of Mr. Asakawa, discussing English education conducted in Japan. The crux of our brief conversation is as follows:
Me: I got a D last semester. The teacher had me translating English texts into Japanese. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he even tried to make me take the test, no dictionary! Let’s be honest here, do you sincerely think that asking your students to translate will help them improve their language skills?
Mr. Asakawa: No, I don’t. We’re doing this because it’s tradition.
Me: But if I were white, I bet he wouldn’t even dare to ask.
Mr. Asakawa: Perhaps…
Need I say more? I could go on forever. Indeed, I was even chided by a Japanese student once, claiming that if one starts learning foreign languages too early, one cannot articulate properly in his or her mother tongue. She was responding to the fact that I speak six languages, as if to say “Jack of all trades, master of none”. She should know better, because she speaks only two languages, technically, though only functional in one, which in turn, makes her perfectly perfect in that language. Therefore, in Japan, foreigners are to be condoned for their overtly displayed brevity when conducting the act of self-introduction, which would otherwise be deemed instrumental elsewhere, in getting to know each other.
Speaking of unidimensional, the Japanese only differentiate between two colors, in general. Needless to say, whether I’m a Malaysian Chinese or a Chinese Malaysian, as long as I stroll along the Yamato archipelago, it doesn’t really matter. I’m not white, that’s why I fall under the category “Others,” which explains my inability to speak both English and whatever it is I speak, apparently.
Rest assured that I’m just a boy telling my stories from my point of view. I’ve met good people along the way as well. Yet, this is how I feel most of the time. Feel free to judge. I’ve had my fair of misjudgments anyway.
P/S: I’m not proclaiming that there’s no point of me learning English.
