I have work up past my nose and am leaving for the USA in three days, so I have no hope of completing everything before I go. Rather than fighting my way through the mountain, I find myself writing this blog instead. It’s not that I’m procrastinating; my wife can attest, unhappily, to the amount of time I’ve spent in front of my computer juggling all of the different responsibilities I’ve signed myself up for. Rather, something so compelling has come along that I feel the need to get it down into writing before it’s gone.
And it has everything to do with a pencil.
My son, now five, joins a Saturday class I have at my English school, Noah Learning Center, with three other students, all around his age, and from this morning I graduated them from the 1 to 20 Thomas the Tank Engine cards they’ve been studying with to plain, printed 1 to 50 numbered cards. One of the games we play is an up/down guessing game because it gives them a lot of practice saying the numbers and gets them in the habit of thinking about the numbers relative to one another. The idea is that they learn that if the number they’re guessing is larger than 32, then there isn’t a need to say three, because that’s already eliminated from the set.
What I haven’t learned to anticipate, however, is my son, who appears to have inherited the same infuriating tendency for sideways thinking that I’ve learned to generally not share in public. Not because it’s wrong; sideways thinking tends to be very efficient at arriving at conclusions that otherwise would have taken much longer and much more effort to come up with, but because it’s the kind of thinking that’s almost guaranteed to ensure you fail a Rorschach test, and if you fail one of those, you have the unsettling possibility of institutionalization. As much as I enjoyed watching One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, I don’t want to live it.
And so one student had the number 33, and we got to, “32, up!” And what does my son say in response? “Pencil!”
In the true spirit of a five year-old, once he got the laugh, he wouldn’t let it go, and to him the only better thing than not playing by the rules himself was enticing other students to ignore the rules.
Thankfully the game was nearly finished, so it was quick enough to wrap up. Now I’m debating if I should find another game to help them practice their numbers before our next lesson.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Fishing
I've always considered fishing to be one of those activities of which I have fond memories from my childhood, neatly fixed in place like a butterfly or beetle collection, with everything neatly pinned down with needles. However, one of the great joys of fatherhood is that you get to revisit all of those collections in the closet of your mind and upend them. And so it was with fishing. Jonah has been pestering me to go for more than a year now, and last Sunday afternoon I finally caved in. We went fishing.
I couldn't have timed it better; we arrived at the lake armed with six worms, the fishing gear left by the previous owners of our house, a son who fervently expected to bag himself a fish, and a father who grew increasingly worried that we actually would catch something as I watched the guy next to us bag three fish in the first 30 minutes or so.
Thankfully, my utter incomprehension of what serves as bait in Japan and the setting sun meant that we didn't end up with any fish. Unfortunately, the disappointment on Jonah's face was enough to stir some guilt in his father that I had pretty much rigged the whole enterprise to fail, and in a moment of weakness I offered to take him again this Sunday and to stay until we caught a fish if he wanted.
So yesterday we went to a real fishing shop where Yuki got the attendant to explain to us what kind of setup we needed for success. It turns out that a sabiki rig (multiple hooks leading off of one line) is necessary, and the recommended bait was "shiro esa" or "white bait."
If you're interested in how to pronounce "esa," the correct pronunciation is contained in this sentence: "Essa freaking bag of maggots!"
Which is what I said when we got to the car and I inspected our purchases more carefully. Yes, I spent 120 yen, or $1.50 in USD on a plastic bag of maggots, packed in sawdust. To top things off, the guy at the store said that "esa" was a little big for the fish we were after, and so he recommended cutting them in half with scissors before baiting them onto the hooks.
So this morning came and after breakfast we headed up to the lake, fishing gear in hand. I quickly realized why the esa was kept in a sealed bag—once you open it, the maggots can crawl out and about, so it becomes important to make sure that the opening you've cut is upright, or you're going to have white worms advancing across your fishing dock.
The second thing I realized is that maggots are not worms—when you cut a worm in half, you end up with two worms (see Superfudge by Judy Blume for a more detailed description). However, when you cut a maggot in half whatever makes up the squirmy squishy bits comes oozing out. And, as the father in the childhood memories of fishing equation now, it's my illustrious responsibility to get the two globs of goo onto the hooks.
By the time four of the five hooks are baited, Jonah's managed to throw about a dozen rocks into the water, although I've successfully kept him from stepping on the bait bag or upending its contents onto the dock, and it's finally time to cast the dubious rig out into the lake and start the waiting part of the morning.
Thankfully the book I brought to read, with my dried maggot-goo hands (there's no sink handy out there) is a borrowed one.
I was pretty impressed. Jonah lasted all of 90 minutes, from 10:30 to noon, with me recasting the line five or six times, before he said he was ready to go to the park. I explained that if we left, we were done with fishing for the day, and after securing his agreement that he was completely done with the affair, happily fishless, I began the process of putting all the gear away. I tossed the half-maggots into the water and got all of the rig packed up, but was left in the end with a plastic bag of 20 to 30-some live maggots, wondering how to go about disposing of them. My solution was to leave them in the empty bucket I had brought in the hopes that I wouldn't be needing to keep any fish in it. I set this an the ground behind the car, noting that some of the more adventurous of the white bait had made their way out of the plastic bag despite my best efforts and were on a quest to find their way out of the bucket. My thought was that if they made their way onto the parking lot pavement, that was all well and good, but I didn't want them swimming around in the back of my car.
Then we were off to the park. Yuki joined us for lunch then she went into town (graciously offering to clean up the fishing gear and take it with her in the car). Later in the afternoon I came home with Jonah. When Yuki returned from her shopping, what did she present me with? An opened plastic bag of maggots in sawdust, with the opening I had cut taped shut. She said it cost money, so she didn't want to throw it away.
Sigh.
I couldn't have timed it better; we arrived at the lake armed with six worms, the fishing gear left by the previous owners of our house, a son who fervently expected to bag himself a fish, and a father who grew increasingly worried that we actually would catch something as I watched the guy next to us bag three fish in the first 30 minutes or so.
Thankfully, my utter incomprehension of what serves as bait in Japan and the setting sun meant that we didn't end up with any fish. Unfortunately, the disappointment on Jonah's face was enough to stir some guilt in his father that I had pretty much rigged the whole enterprise to fail, and in a moment of weakness I offered to take him again this Sunday and to stay until we caught a fish if he wanted.So yesterday we went to a real fishing shop where Yuki got the attendant to explain to us what kind of setup we needed for success. It turns out that a sabiki rig (multiple hooks leading off of one line) is necessary, and the recommended bait was "shiro esa" or "white bait."
If you're interested in how to pronounce "esa," the correct pronunciation is contained in this sentence: "Essa freaking bag of maggots!"
Which is what I said when we got to the car and I inspected our purchases more carefully. Yes, I spent 120 yen, or $1.50 in USD on a plastic bag of maggots, packed in sawdust. To top things off, the guy at the store said that "esa" was a little big for the fish we were after, and so he recommended cutting them in half with scissors before baiting them onto the hooks.
So this morning came and after breakfast we headed up to the lake, fishing gear in hand. I quickly realized why the esa was kept in a sealed bag—once you open it, the maggots can crawl out and about, so it becomes important to make sure that the opening you've cut is upright, or you're going to have white worms advancing across your fishing dock.
The second thing I realized is that maggots are not worms—when you cut a worm in half, you end up with two worms (see Superfudge by Judy Blume for a more detailed description). However, when you cut a maggot in half whatever makes up the squirmy squishy bits comes oozing out. And, as the father in the childhood memories of fishing equation now, it's my illustrious responsibility to get the two globs of goo onto the hooks.
By the time four of the five hooks are baited, Jonah's managed to throw about a dozen rocks into the water, although I've successfully kept him from stepping on the bait bag or upending its contents onto the dock, and it's finally time to cast the dubious rig out into the lake and start the waiting part of the morning.
Thankfully the book I brought to read, with my dried maggot-goo hands (there's no sink handy out there) is a borrowed one.
I was pretty impressed. Jonah lasted all of 90 minutes, from 10:30 to noon, with me recasting the line five or six times, before he said he was ready to go to the park. I explained that if we left, we were done with fishing for the day, and after securing his agreement that he was completely done with the affair, happily fishless, I began the process of putting all the gear away. I tossed the half-maggots into the water and got all of the rig packed up, but was left in the end with a plastic bag of 20 to 30-some live maggots, wondering how to go about disposing of them. My solution was to leave them in the empty bucket I had brought in the hopes that I wouldn't be needing to keep any fish in it. I set this an the ground behind the car, noting that some of the more adventurous of the white bait had made their way out of the plastic bag despite my best efforts and were on a quest to find their way out of the bucket. My thought was that if they made their way onto the parking lot pavement, that was all well and good, but I didn't want them swimming around in the back of my car.
Then we were off to the park. Yuki joined us for lunch then she went into town (graciously offering to clean up the fishing gear and take it with her in the car). Later in the afternoon I came home with Jonah. When Yuki returned from her shopping, what did she present me with? An opened plastic bag of maggots in sawdust, with the opening I had cut taped shut. She said it cost money, so she didn't want to throw it away.
Sigh.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Reimagining the possible
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| Reisenji Lake |
A few weeks ago I thought I had finally found it; there's a corn shop about 6km (3 and 3/4 miles) from our house, on a relatively calm road, with two parks between here and there. It appeared to have all the necessary components for an adventure run; a challenge for both of us, Jonah on the bicycle, me on foot, rest stops between here and there in the form of parks, and food at the end, in the form of sweet corn stalls and a soba restaurant.
And so, we set out on the first Sunday after the rainy season, when the sun was scorching and the humidity was through the roof from all the water on the ground - me on foot, Jonah on his bicycle. You can see the route here. Make sure to select show → elevation profile while you're there. It'll become important in a little bit.
 |
| Jonah on our adventure |
After the blueberry snack we visited the soba restaurant for lunch, and I called Yuki, who came to meet us in the van - our family crash mobile - to give us a ride back.
This is where the story takes a turn. As Yuki is walking over to our table, Jonah looks at her, the van, puts two and two together, and as she enters earshot says, "I want to cycle home."
 |
| Blueberries! |
He agreed and the two of us set off again. Remember the elevation profile? You lose about 80 meters (260 ft) going from our place to the corn stalls. On the way back we had to gain back that elevation, which meant more of me pushing Jonah, as his kids bicycle has only one gear. But in the end we did it, with the requisite stop at a park and several water breaks.
And what was the first thing Yuki said when her victorious men tromped through the door? "Good job. Now go take a shower."
All told it was a 6 1/2 hour day, leaving at 10:00 and returning at 4:30. We did the one way again on Monday, narrowing our time down to 2 hours. (Yuki gave us a ride back that time).
I think I have a winner in this new route.
 |  |
| Lunch! | Jonah eating |
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Close to home
It's an interesting question to be asked, after having lived in Japan for ten years, "When was the last time you went home?"—where the question refers not to my nice house in the mountains, but instead to the places in America where my parents live. From my perspective, unless I'm traveling, the last time I was home was right before I left in the morning to go to work. And it's even stranger when someone asks me that while I'm at home. I have to look around and get my bearings, just to make sure I'm clear what home means to me before I ask them what it means to them.
That said, this summer, for the first time in five years or so, I'll be heading back to what once was my home, which brings me to the topic of this post. Fortunately, Japan and the US are both members of the visa waiver program, so I can travel with my Japanese wife in the states for up to 90 days without having to go through the inconvenience and (considerable) expense of getting a visa for her. In the past, it's been as simple as buying the airline tickets and then jumping on the plane. Unfortunately, that's all changed recently; now all non-US citizens must register their intent to enter the US using the Visa Waiver program via a new online system, Electronic System for Travel Authorization (ESTA).
Aware that it's my family we're going to visit, I decided I should be the one to navigate the ESTA website to get travel authorization arranged for my wife, Yuki. It was relatively painless as far as entering information and getting to the page that tells me what I already know; my wife isn't on any problematic watch lists which would prevent her from flying. But the language I read as I navigated through the site was, in my opinion, unconscionable. Here's an extract of a particularly disagreeable block of prose:
Waiver of Rights: I have read and understand that I hereby waive for the duration of my travel authorization obtained via ESTA any rights to review or appeal of a U.S. Customs and Border Protection Officer's determination as to my admissibility, or to contest, other than on the basis of an application for asylum, any removal action arising from an application for admission under the Visa Waiver Program.
In addition to the above waiver, as a condition of each admission into the United States under the Visa Waiver Program, I agree that the submission of biometric identifiers (including fingerprints and photographs) during processing upon arrival in the United States shall reaffirm my waiver of any rights to review or appeal of a U.S. Customs and Border Protection Officer's determination as to my admissibility, or to contest, other than on the basis of an application for asylum, any removal action arising from an application for admission under the Visa Waiver Program.
So not only is my wife required to request permission of the US government to enter the country that issues my passport, but she also has to waive all of her rights to appeal as part of that request. Twice, just for effect, as when they fingerprint and photograph her at immigration, that's a second affirmation of her waiver of her rights.
That language would certainly turn me off from visiting a foreign country. Considering the deplorable state of the US economy and the ensuing drop in tourism, particularly after the gulf oil spill, your would think there would be more effort to encourage foreign visitors. Something like:
Thanks for considering visiting the United States. While we welcome foreign visitors to our shores, international travelers seeking to enter the United States under the Visa Waiver program must now first apply for authorization...
Instead this is what their site says:
International travelers who are seeking to travel to the United States under the Visa Waiver Program are now subject to enhanced security requirements. All eligible travelers who wish to travel under the Visa Waiver Program must apply for authorization...
Considering how hospitable the welcome mat was for this trip, it may be another five years before I find myself returning to the US again.
That said, this summer, for the first time in five years or so, I'll be heading back to what once was my home, which brings me to the topic of this post. Fortunately, Japan and the US are both members of the visa waiver program, so I can travel with my Japanese wife in the states for up to 90 days without having to go through the inconvenience and (considerable) expense of getting a visa for her. In the past, it's been as simple as buying the airline tickets and then jumping on the plane. Unfortunately, that's all changed recently; now all non-US citizens must register their intent to enter the US using the Visa Waiver program via a new online system, Electronic System for Travel Authorization (ESTA).
Aware that it's my family we're going to visit, I decided I should be the one to navigate the ESTA website to get travel authorization arranged for my wife, Yuki. It was relatively painless as far as entering information and getting to the page that tells me what I already know; my wife isn't on any problematic watch lists which would prevent her from flying. But the language I read as I navigated through the site was, in my opinion, unconscionable. Here's an extract of a particularly disagreeable block of prose:
Waiver of Rights: I have read and understand that I hereby waive for the duration of my travel authorization obtained via ESTA any rights to review or appeal of a U.S. Customs and Border Protection Officer's determination as to my admissibility, or to contest, other than on the basis of an application for asylum, any removal action arising from an application for admission under the Visa Waiver Program.
In addition to the above waiver, as a condition of each admission into the United States under the Visa Waiver Program, I agree that the submission of biometric identifiers (including fingerprints and photographs) during processing upon arrival in the United States shall reaffirm my waiver of any rights to review or appeal of a U.S. Customs and Border Protection Officer's determination as to my admissibility, or to contest, other than on the basis of an application for asylum, any removal action arising from an application for admission under the Visa Waiver Program.
So not only is my wife required to request permission of the US government to enter the country that issues my passport, but she also has to waive all of her rights to appeal as part of that request. Twice, just for effect, as when they fingerprint and photograph her at immigration, that's a second affirmation of her waiver of her rights.
That language would certainly turn me off from visiting a foreign country. Considering the deplorable state of the US economy and the ensuing drop in tourism, particularly after the gulf oil spill, your would think there would be more effort to encourage foreign visitors. Something like:
Thanks for considering visiting the United States. While we welcome foreign visitors to our shores, international travelers seeking to enter the United States under the Visa Waiver program must now first apply for authorization...
Instead this is what their site says:
International travelers who are seeking to travel to the United States under the Visa Waiver Program are now subject to enhanced security requirements. All eligible travelers who wish to travel under the Visa Waiver Program must apply for authorization...
Considering how hospitable the welcome mat was for this trip, it may be another five years before I find myself returning to the US again.
Friday, June 18, 2010
To infinity...and beyond!
I recently switched operating systems from Fedora to Ubuntu, and have been particularly happy that with the new OS. It’s almost like I upgraded my graphics card; video and 3D rendering is much smoother. The main result has been that I find myself visiting Google Earth more often. So, when after a conversation with overseas grandparents, I had to explain to my soon-to-be 5 year-old why his grandparents in the states wouldn’t be able to visit Japan for his birthday, I turned to Google Earth to show him just where we are and where they are.
And I was greeted by a refrain I’ve become used to by now. "Can I have that one on my computer?"
So after a little bit of searching I had Google Earth running on his computer, which still uses Fedora, but has the benefit of a dedicated graphics card to make things run more smoothly. I turned my back for a minute or so then heard, "Can I print this one?" Looking at the picture Jonah wanted to print, I had no idea where in the world he was.
Because he wasn’t on this world.
He had gone to Mars.
After getting his computer’s printer going and once Mars rover pictures started pouring out, I wondered at the implications this experience could have for the future. After all, if you visited Mars in pictures at the age of four, then it would seem a reasonable jump to expect to be able to visit the red planet in person as an adult. Or perhaps it would be better to put it this way; after having visited the red planet and explored it in detail at the age of four, it would be particularly disappointing to at the age of 24 not be able to go there in person.
I think of that day as one where I lost quite a bit of printer ink and paper but gained a little more hope for the future.
And I was greeted by a refrain I’ve become used to by now. "Can I have that one on my computer?"
So after a little bit of searching I had Google Earth running on his computer, which still uses Fedora, but has the benefit of a dedicated graphics card to make things run more smoothly. I turned my back for a minute or so then heard, "Can I print this one?" Looking at the picture Jonah wanted to print, I had no idea where in the world he was.
Because he wasn’t on this world.
He had gone to Mars.
After getting his computer’s printer going and once Mars rover pictures started pouring out, I wondered at the implications this experience could have for the future. After all, if you visited Mars in pictures at the age of four, then it would seem a reasonable jump to expect to be able to visit the red planet in person as an adult. Or perhaps it would be better to put it this way; after having visited the red planet and explored it in detail at the age of four, it would be particularly disappointing to at the age of 24 not be able to go there in person.
I think of that day as one where I lost quite a bit of printer ink and paper but gained a little more hope for the future.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
There's more to my classroom than what I can see
Yesterday I had a class with a student who has been out of school long enough that he's one of the few true beginners for studying English. He tries to communicate by first writing what he wants to say in Japanese then laboriously translating each word into English. I've been teaching long enough that I can generally infer what he wants to say, but this has been going on for more than a year now, and his progress in spoken English remains excruciatingly slow.
Despite this, his company has decided to transfer him to Hong Kong to work in April, and in our lesson last week he asked how to introduce himself in English to his new co-workers. After covering that topic for about half the class, I asked what other concerns he had regarding navigating life in Hong Kong. We finished the class with homework for him to prepare his self-introduction and to think about other questions/concerns he had regarding his move.
He came to class yesterday with a prepared letter, translated from Japanese to English as usual, that explained he hadn't had time to prepare his self-introduction homework because he was busy each day consecutively. He went on to read that his concerns regarding Hong Kong include the fact that his son will be looking for employment from this year, his daughter is handicapped and looking for employment, his parents are past 80 and in and out of the hospital, he's worried that his wife isn't strong enough to deal with all of these problems, and finally he's concerned about paying his house loan while he's away. English didn't even make the list.
His story reminded me that what I see in my classroom is just a small slice of the life my students live, and that in many cases issues outside of my knowledge or control can influence how much time and energy they have to devote to their studies.
Despite this, his company has decided to transfer him to Hong Kong to work in April, and in our lesson last week he asked how to introduce himself in English to his new co-workers. After covering that topic for about half the class, I asked what other concerns he had regarding navigating life in Hong Kong. We finished the class with homework for him to prepare his self-introduction and to think about other questions/concerns he had regarding his move.
He came to class yesterday with a prepared letter, translated from Japanese to English as usual, that explained he hadn't had time to prepare his self-introduction homework because he was busy each day consecutively. He went on to read that his concerns regarding Hong Kong include the fact that his son will be looking for employment from this year, his daughter is handicapped and looking for employment, his parents are past 80 and in and out of the hospital, he's worried that his wife isn't strong enough to deal with all of these problems, and finally he's concerned about paying his house loan while he's away. English didn't even make the list.
His story reminded me that what I see in my classroom is just a small slice of the life my students live, and that in many cases issues outside of my knowledge or control can influence how much time and energy they have to devote to their studies.
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