3 May 2002 (21 Iyar 5762)
On Monday, which happened to be a national holiday in Japan, I went to the suburbs of Tokyo in response to a request from someone I had never met before to lecture about Jewish folk music and teach the audience Jewish folk dance. Although I have a relatively large collection of Jewish music CDs, I have never studied Jewish folk music and dance, whether academically or practically, so I was rather hesitant to accept his request initially. Actually, I was surprised that he made such a request in the first place, especially considering the fact he is an Italian Catholic priest living in Japan. When he spent one year in Jerusalem a few years ago, he met a very good friend of mine working in a certain institute where he studied Judaism. He seemed to have heard from her that in some of my courses in Hebrew and Jewish studies I had danced with my students in class, and they had enjoyed it very much. But the problem was that he seemed to have got somewhat distorted, exaggerated information about my expertise-shmexpertise of Jewish folk dance.
About thirty people, mostly Japanese members of his Catholic congregation, turned up at this event. Since I am familiar only with Ashkenazic (East European Jewish) folk music and dance, I was forced to exclude non-Ashkenazic counterparts in spite of this somewhat pretentious title of the lecture. Even within the confines of Ashkenazic folk music, I had to choose and concentrate on three genres I personally know more or less well: hasidic music, Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, and klezmer music. In the first part of this event I lectured briefly about each of these three genres of Ashkenazic folk music, demonstrating several pieces and singing them together with the audience in Hebrew. In the second part I showed them Izhhak Perlman's "In the Fiddler's House" - a best-selling videotape of klezmer music. And in the end I instructed the participants how to dance, and we danced to the tune of hasidic and klezmer music.
In spite of the initial hesitation prior to the event I felt happy that I had accepted this invitation and could have the precious chance to appreciate the joy of instigating others through a lecture and subsequent verbal interactions and feeling united with others through music. I have confirmed that I like to interact with people, especially verbally, and I am wondering if there is a job, in addition to teaching, that can make the most of this inclination of mine.
10 May 2002 (28 Iyar 5762)
I may be taking everything too seriously, thus preventing myself from enjoying life. But I often cannot help becoming sensitive to the feedback from my students to my courses, which is mostly covert, including attendance or lack thereof. I must not be the only teacher who desires to share with his or her students the intellectual or sometimes even spiritual pleasure of learning what he or she is teaching.
I believe that if a teacher really loves what he or she is teaching, that love can often infect his or her students. Since there are few students, especially in the first few lessons, who openly praise or criticize your course, you are mostly forced to rely on your gut feeling, paying attention to things like facial expressions of your students, in order to get their feedback and subsequently try to improve or fine-tune your teaching.
The problem is that there is no magical formula that appeals to every student. Since I have been teaching more or less the same courses for the past eight years at two universities in Japan, I have established how and what to teach in my courses, so my teaching is more or less constant, though I am of course striving to improve it constantly. But it often happens that the same course with the same method of teaching and the same textbook can be popular one year but unpopular another year. I am always wondering what the factors are that make this difference, especially when there are less students than in the average year.
The dynamism of a classroom seems to work in a very complicated way with all kinds of factors involved. I do not think that I have succeeded in deciphering this enigma, but I am always fascinated with it. One thing I have discovered from my experiences is that the first lesson is critical in forging a good atmosphere in the classroom, whatever factors are involved in it. Once you have this good atmosphere, it has the life of its own, and helps you all the way throughout the year.
16 May 2002 (5 Sivan 5762)
What scares the majority of Japanese students most in class is being called on by the teacher to answer his or her questions in front of the other students. This clearly reflects the mentality of the society at large outside the classroom. "A tall tree catches much wind" is one of the most important principles regulating, thus explaining, many of the behaviors of people in Japanese society. By the time they finish elementary school, children learn through multiple channels that they should be careful not to be such "tall trees" to catch much wind, and this is what happens in the average classroom in Japan.
In the university, for example, where students are mostly free to sit down wherever they like in the classroom, they prefer seats that are as far from the teacher as possible and try not to look the teacher in the eyes so that they may, God forbid, be called on by him or her. Personally, I think that from the viewpoint of proxemics physical distance leads to psychological distance. So whenever I see vacant seats in the front rows, I ask my students to sit closer to me. I simply cannot understand those teachers who leave students who sit only in the back rows where they are. This is for me a sign of lack of responsibility and sensitivity as a teacher. The fear of the students that they may be called on by me also affects the atmosphere in class. After a few lessons where I only explain generally about the course in question, telling spontaneous jokes to make them feel comfortable, I suddenly notice faces with no expression but fear. As everyone who has taught in Japan knows too well, students neither ask me questions nor respond to my questions directed to everyone in front of other students.
My philosophy of teaching is that when a person enjoys learning something, he or she can learn it most effectively. To have constant fear is the antipode of this and detrimental to learning. I have been making all kinds of efforts to make my students have no fear, but I have not been so successful in preventing a stiff atmosphere when I start asking questions, calling on specific students.
24 May 2002 (13 Sivan 5762)
Last weekend I went for the first time to a biannual reunion of the alumni of my high school living in the Kansai area (Kyoto, Osaka, Kobe and their vicinities) held in Osaka. In the first place I did not know until quite recently that there is a branch of the alumni association in Kansai, and there are enough people to organize such a branch here. To my surprise, there seem to be quite a few in the region according to the list of alumni in Kansai, which I received prior to the reunion. I could find only one person I know personally on the list - one of my ex-classmates who happened to find me on the web about a year ago. And actually, he is the one who told me about the existence of the organization and asked me to participate in the reunion. Without him, I might not have taken the trouble of going there. The rumor that one of my ex-teachers, who is now the principle, may also come all the way as a guest of honor, was another reason why I decided to do what I had never done before.
More than 30 people turned up in the reunion, mostly those in their fifties, sixties and seventies. I was even the second youngest participant. Although my ex-classmate himself could not come, I could meet my ex-teacher after so many years. I was rather surprised that he could still recognize me in spite of my beard and mustache, and even remembered quite a few details about me. I suddenly felt then that teaching is a rewarding profession in spite of all kinds of hardships. It must be a pleasure for teachers to see their ex-students after so many years, regardless of whether they were good or bad students, just as it is an honor for students to meet their ex-teachers.
Although I am aware that I owe what I am to many teachers, I have no special sentiment toward any of the schools where I studied as many people do, even sanctifying and glorifying them. But when I heard in the reunion that my high school is celebrating the 100th anniversary this year, and they are planning a special one-day course by 23 alumni at school, each according to his or her area of specialization or occupation, I felt like applying for this interesting initiative. This is mainly because being a university teacher, I am curious to experience teaching high school students and instigate them even for a short while with what little experience I have had through many years of studying and teaching in the university.
31 May 2002 (20 Sivan 5762)
Since I was born premature and was always the smallest in class until I entered high school, I always preferred reading books inside to playing some sport outside. It is only after the age of 20 that I started running daily on weekdays, which I still continue to this very day. Running, or any sport in this respect, is not a purpose in itself for me but a means to an end - to keep my physical fitness, which in tern will help me keep my emotional fitness.
I, therefore, have never been interested in watching games of any sport, to say nothing of talking about them. Throughout my school days the most favorite topic of conversations among my classmates was sports games. Fortunately, this was not the case any more with my peers in the university. Though there may be no accounting for taste, to talk about the results of sports games at length seems a rather stupid thing and a waste of time to me. So people who can become violent over the result of some game are totally incomprehensible to me. It does not make any essential difference in life, for example, whether you can run fast or not. To waste your time talking about such a physical difference is even less essential.
Though the whole world seems to be enthusiastic about the World Cup soccer games that start today in Korea and Japan, my life will go on as before without being affected by this "world event". Is it important to me whether someone shoots a goal or not? Big deal!