The Red Gate

This article was originally published in the Hampton Union newspaper of Hampton, New Hampshire on November 2, 2007. You can also read the article here on the Hampton Union website.

After almost two months of teaching at my high school in Japan I’m getting into the swing of lesson planning and school office life. I team teach with other Japanese teachers who are there to help explain things when the English gets too difficult.

Most Japanese students are shy and reluctant to speak, but we add games to the textbook activities to liven up the classroom. In the office, as my vice principal likes to remind me, “Japan is a country of gift-giving,” and any time one of us leaves Kobe on the weekend, it is almost expected that we will return with the official dessert or snack associated with the place we visited. Passing around rice crackers and sweet bean desserts is a good break for the teachers who are busy writing mid-term exams, and it gives us a chance to share some part of our after-school lives with the whole group.

Although I am still very much the foreigner, I’m slowly feeling more a part of my school and its daily routine.

On one very un-routine day in late September, I had the chance to participate in one of the school’s yearly traditions — the Sports Day Festival. Similar festivals took place at schools all around Japan on or near the same day. Instead of arriving to school in our formal dress, we wore track suits, T-shirts, and shorts. At the sound of the first period bell, instead of heading to the classroom, students lined up outside on the dry dirt field in neat rows organized by homeroom.

The first events of the morning resembled an elementary school track and field day. The 50-meter dash and the relay races were no different from what we all experienced growing up in our American schools. In the afternoon, however, there was a definite Japanese twist on some old favorites. The three-legged race became the seven-legged race as long rows of six students tied their legs together and raced across the field. Tug-of-war grew to epic proportions as homerooms of 40 students per side battled tournament-style until one class was left at the top.

My favorite event of the day was supposed to resemble a traditional samurai battle. Three students clasped their arms and hands together to form a base — the warrior’s horse — and a fourth student — the samurai — rode on top of the base. The “horses” carried the “samurai” across the field, and they scored points by pulling the hat off the head of an opposing team member.

My role was mostly that of an observer, but I was told I would run in one relay race on a teacher’s team. I resisted the idea at first, and wanted instead to try one of the more foreign and unusual events, knowing that it might be my only chance to experience a mock samurai battle or an 80-person tug-of-war game. I also felt a bit embarrassed by the fact I had not run in any kind of race for some time, and I knew my performance would fall sorely short of my reputation as an Orlando Bloom and Greek God look-a-like.

Then another teacher reminded me I should run in the race simply because the students would enjoy seeing me take part.

“We are teachers,” he said. “So we work for the student’s benefit, and not just our own.” I had completely missed the point. Of course, living in Japan is a great opportunity for me to learn the language and the culture, but above all, I am a teacher. My responsibility is to my students.

So I swallowed my pride and took my place behind the starting line with several high school girls amid cheers and surprised looks from the crowd. The starting shot rang out across the field and I was immediately aware of just how relaxed my summer in Hampton had been. I was out of shape, but I managed to stay close to the speedy high school girls, and I passed off the baton to the next teacher. Our team saved face when some of the more athletic teachers pulled ahead of the students. Then the last teacher in the relay slowed down to a walk just before the finish line and let the lead student take the win.

That day of shared activity out in the sun brought me closer to my students and the other teachers than I had felt during any of the preceding days of classroom teaching. I finally understood the strength of the Japanese group mentality, and I could see why the Sports Festival carries on beyond school and into adult life where companies and even some prefectures hold their own sports days. In America, we are so often taught to be individuals that we can sometimes forget our roles in our communities.

Here in Japan, everything from passing out small gifts to competing in day-long sports competitions seems to emphasize the shared experience of the school community where even a foreigner from the other side of the world can feel like he belongs.