4 June 2004 (15 Sivan 5764)
Human psychology, at least mine, is a perverse thing. Precisely when there is little or no chance of achieving something, one's desire for it is often intensified instead of being thwarted. On the other hand, when achieving something one has desired for takes on a touch of real possibility, one suddenly becomes uneasy, thinking of its far-reaching implications, whether positive or negative. This is more or less how I feel now.
I am not completely certain yet whether something even my wildest imagination could think of will materialize, but the possibility seems more real than ever. Although I am even prepared to be told that it was just an unattainable dream and continue my life as if nothing had happened, I am nevertheless starting to prepare myself, at least psychologically, for a series of profound changes it is likely to bring to my life.
This is a good chance to ponder upon those things I have taken for granted so far in the present physical and sociocultural environments and discern what is truly essential and constant in my life from what is trivial and ephemeral. Even if nothing should materialize, I can at least learn an important lesson through this process of self-reflections.
11 June 2004 (22 Sivan 5764)
As a person who has been teaching mainly foreign languages I have come to terms with the fact that I am forced to repeat more or less the same learning materials every year in the same courses. Although this is not such a stimulating situation, it is inevitable as neither teaching methods nor languages per se change every Monday and Thursday. There is, however, one sort of repetition that has been torturing me.
I find the Socratic method the most profitable of all the teaching/learning methods I have experienced so far both as a teacher and as a student, at least at the university level. Unfortunately, however, the majority of those who are trained in the Japanese educational system have characteristics that are detrimental to the Socratic method through years of intellectual (and sometimes emotional) castration.
As everyone who has taught in a Japanese university knows, average university students here are not trained to express themselves spontaneously and logically, and when they are asked to do so, most of them do not even meet the minimal requirement, that is, to speak in an audible voice. As long as the present educational system does not change in Japan, I cannot expect them to express themselves spontaneously and logically in the classroom, so all I want them to do is to speak at least in an audible voice when I ask them questions. The sentence I have to repeat at least ten times in each lesson is to ask my students to speak in a loud, clear voice. Is this what must be said repeatedly for a whole year in the university?
There still seems to be a myth in and outside Japan that the Japanese educational system at the elementary and secondary levels is excellent in comparative terms. I agree that it can still produce a small number of students who excel intellectually, but socially speaking, many of the students it massproduces are childish, fragile, indifferent, apathetic and unsure of themselves. I am really concerned about the future of Japan, especially because most of the non-Japanese students I see in Japan and elsewhere are by contrast more mature and sure of themselves at least socially, if not intellectually. I have been asking myself what I can do personally to reverse this situation, but the task seems too formidable for a single teacher.
18 June 2004 (29 Sivan 5764)
When I had a physical checkup this spring, I was diagnosed as having a rather high blood cholesterol. This may be not only due to my heavy consumption of beer but also due to the job stress as a teacher in Japanese universities. I feel that the more seriously I think about teaching, the higher my blood cholesterol seems to become.
Being a stubborn person, I hate to give up something, but I have to admit that after all I have failed miserably in my repeated attempts to make my university courses in Japan as interactive as I like, except for a few special cases such as the second-year course in Modern Hebrew. The obstacles that block such attempts seem almost insurmountable for a single person as they seem more social than personal on the part of the students, in addition to my limitations both as a teacher and as a human being.
Of course, students are not stupid. They learn quite early in their childhood that it does not pay to express themselves clearly in public in Japanese society. They see that by doing so, they are liable to be ostracized from the society in the worst case. Self-censure may not be what they really want, but having "tamed" themselves verbally and nonverbally since their childhood, they become petrified when they are asked to express themselves freely in public.
Humor has, among others, the function of breaking the ice, but so long as people you are speaking to have enough and/or similar sense of humor. My rather sarcastic humor, though understood almost everywhere else, is not only rarely understood in Japan but is often even misunderstood. If humor cannot open someone's heart and mouth, I wonder what else I have at my disposal to do so.
Of course my intention is not to torture my students. I simply believe that what I can do as a teacher to make Japan a more "ventilated" society is through teaching. But I feel that further Quixotic attempts may only harm my mental and physical health.
25 June 2004 (6 Tamuz 5764)
When I started looking for a full-time academic position after my return to Japan from Israel 11 years ago, I neither imagined that this search would continue so long nor expected that it would end in such a way. From October I will be a lecturer at Department of Hebrew and Semitic Languages, Faculty of Jewish Studies, Bar-Ilan University; this week I finally received the contract from there. In the new academic year I am supposed to teach the following four courses (in Hebrew, of course): bibliographic guidance (in Hebrew linguistics), seminar in Modern Hebrew, (Jewish) contact linguistics, and (Hebrew) computational linguistics.
In retrospect, my search for a position in Japan was doomed to failure as there is no department of Hebrew in any university, so every time I applied for some position, I had to compete with other applicants in areas that were not exactly what I specialize in. I am somewhat sorry that now that I am leaving for Israel, I will not be able to contribute directly to Japan by teaching what I studied in Jerusalem. I have to confess that out of despair I even thought of teaching Japanese in Israel, and this was what a number of people both in Japan and in Israel suggested me to do. Actually, I was even offered a position as an instructor of Japanese at an Israeli university. Although many people seem to be tempted by such an offer, I declined it, thinking that it would be too easy a solution. I wanted to compete in something I acquired through conscious efforts.
Of course, I am really excited at this new position and life in Israel, whose linguistic culture seems to suit me more than that of Japan. On the other hand, however, I am aware of the gravity of the tasks I am expected to fulfill and the existence of some obstacles I have to clear away. I can easily imagine that the first obstacle will be inquisitive stares, as it were, of those Israelis, including my potential students, who do not know me personally. I will be able to transform their possible doubt about me into confidence only by excelling both in research and in teaching. I hope that a series of struggles I have had in the past 11 years in Japan have taught me how to make use of seemingly adverse circumstances to my advantage.
I would like to take this occasion to thank many people who have encouraged me, especially at a time of trouble. Of course, I have to thank first and foremost my parents, sister and late grandmother, without whom I could not have come this far. I would also like to express my sincere gratitude to the following people in particular by mentioning their names (in alphabetical order): Moshe Bar-Asher, Sarah Bunin Benor, Yaakov Bentolila, Shmuel Bolozky, David Bunis, Masatake Dantsuji, Rachel Elior, Ben-Zion Fischler, Joshua Fishman, Ludmila Ginsbursky, Avraham Greenbaum, David Grossman, Jack Halpern, Michal Held, George Jochnowitz, Zelda Kahan Newman, Naoya Katsumata, Aharon Maman, Shemon Matlofsky, Shlomo Morag z"l, Shoshana Morag, Katsunori Narazaki, Yona Sabar, Eldad Salzman, Akihiro Sato, Ora Schwarzwald, Vera Solomon, Yechiel Szeintuch, Yoshiyuki Takashina, Yuroh Teshima, Kazuhiko Yoshida, and Ghil`ad Zuckermann.