Provincial vs. International:  Yokohama and Tokyo
Even in the suburbs of a major city like Yokohama, space is at a premium and buildings are built one next to the other with hardly a backyard between them. Yet living so close to Yokohama, I had the chance to explore the city and compare it to Tokyo, where I usually ventured on my days off. 

The capital city of Tokyo is by far the older of the two cities, the former Edo is a maze of  streets and temples, gardens and parks.  After being demolished almost entirely in the earthquake of 1923, it rose again to become the cultural and economic center of Japan. And its cultural offerings far outweigh the port city of Yokohama. From the outdoor market of Take-Shita, to the European-styled boutiques lining the boulevard of Omotosando, Tokyo is the most cosmopolitan of Japanese cities, boasting more foreigners than any other city in Japan. 

Yokohama is the Boston to Tokyo’s New York City.  It’s far more provincial in its look and feel.  Although both cities definitely shun the “city never sleeps” mentality, Tokyo contains pockets of town that electrify at night and dance into the ungodly morning hours.  Roppongi, the most happening expat section of the city, sees its share of late night party goers, most of whom miss the last midnight hour train in favor of bouncing from pub to pub and bleary-eyed, taking the first train back in the morning.  In this part of Tokyo, gaijin of every nation abound, and English is the stylish language of clubbing.  In this international confluence, expat English teachers mingled with military boys from army bases in Yokosuka. The parties rage on into the night outside the closed izikayas (traditional Japanese pubs) and neon-lit Yoshinoya Beef Bowl restaurants.

In contrast, Yokohama has at its center an elaborate mall and series of department stores and is a port city to the core.  Here I was exposed to the phenomenon of Western-styled department stores (Maru-I, Maru-I and Lumine among them) with a distinctly Japanese feel.  In other words, if you think it’s chocolate in the window of a posh mini-mall bakery, most likely it’s still bean paste.

The Life of an English Teacher
Outside of city exploration, work life quickly settled into the five days on, two days off schedule of the Nova English teacher.  The difference here from the American workweek is that the weekend did not usually fall on Saturday and Sunday for most new teachers. My scheduled days off were mid-week and fell on Wednesday and Thursday for the duration. Within the eight-hour workday, teachers were assigned three to four students per class and would meet in small partitioned office space designated as classrooms. The classes were closely spaced one right next to the other.  Often if a group was particularly lively, the noise level was quite high. This was among the many challenges of working for Nova. 

The curriculum relied upon the Quest series of texts, published by Nova and Oxford University Press.  Set up much like a language mill, classes were 50 minutes in length.  Teachers then have a 10-minute window in between classes to write up their notes on the previous class and plan for the next lesson. Lesson plans were not really encouraged, and teachers would use the provided Quest texts to infinitely reproduce the same lessons with minor variations.  Although Nova purports to encourage creativity and spontaneity in its teachers, the structure of back-to-back classes, lack of adequate on-the-job training and less than inspiring texts conspire to make the job challenging.

The Nova system divided students up according to their level of speaking and reading ability. But the system did not focus on a firm grounding in grammar or pronunciation.  Since most Japanese students practiced these types of drills at school, the Nova system focused on keeping classes focused on practical application of idioms and grammatical structures through role playing and conversation exercises.  Classes were filled on a first come, first served basis with no more than four students to one teacher.  I would often find myself surrounded by a junior high school aged student, a salary man (business man or salary man as they’re called) and an “office lady.” 

Quite often, the most challenging aspect of teaching the Japanese was getting them to speak. As a group, they are quite reticent to express an opinion that would cause them to stand out in any way and consider making a mistake akin to losing face. Class participation became easier in time once I developed a rapport with students and began to have repeat customers. The daily informal conversation class called “Voice” also helped to break the ice.  It wasn’t long before students felt comfortable enough to comment “teacher looks like she’s gaining weight.” Teaching about social etiquette in Western culture turned out to be by far the most daunting task.

The “What If” Gauntlet
Sometimes I put myself through the gauntlet of 'what ifs' regarding my time spent in Japan. What if I was to do it again? How would I research it differently? I’ve come to realize that my time there had the steepest learning curves of a roller coaster with just as many twists, turns and minor upheavals. I realized too that there were English teachers in Japan getting paid more (although Nova’s salaries were fairly competitive) and teaching from a more structured methodology.  Other corporate programs that come to mind are Aeon and Geos while the JET Program is geared to working in the Japanese public school system. Most of these companies including Nova require that candidates have at least a bachelor’s degree and 13 years of formal education taught in English.  I certainly would have researched other companies and English-teaching opportunities more thoroughly before taking the first job offer. But that said, Nova did offer an easy way to make decent money and soak up Japanese culture.  It’s just a question of either accepting the limitations of the corporate structure or researching opportunities that are less for-profit and potentially more academic.

Outside Looking In
My most vivid memory of being a gaijin in Japan is how edifying it was to be a member of a minority group of Westerners in a truly homogeneous culture.  How quickly such an experience adjusts one’s perspective.  For me, it meant enduring the feeling of being an outsider who can never truly assimilate. Granted, learning the Japanese language is a solid first step towards assimilation but even after attaining that, the cultural gaps between East and West often feel like more of a chasm. The Japanese don’t fully believe that Westerners can truly learn their language due to its perceived level of difficulty. I had heard stories of Japanese people professing not to understand their own language as spoken by foreigners. I never did have a chance to learn the language apart from a few choice phrases during my brief stay in Japan – mostly shouted in angry response to chikan (a word most closely resembling “pervert”) on the crowded subway trains. But there were a number of teachers I knew who did speak fluently and seemed to get by quite well. 

Ultimately, I was able to appreciate the differences between Japanese and Western culture. The differences were really something to celebrate.  In no other country would you be able to lose your wallet and your passport and have it returned to you intact within the same week. As long as you’re informed that tradition dictates you send an appropriately worded thank you letter but nothing more, you’re home free.  I am grateful for the many open and generous Japanese friends I encountered along the way. And the life of the gaijin in Japan, much like anywhere else in the world, is tremendously ennobled by authentic connection.

Susan Knecht
Email: simplyudon@yahoo.com