6 November 2009 (19 Kheshvan 5770)
The main cause, or at least one of the main causes, of wasting time in Israel is, without doubt, public transportation, or to be more precise, buses, both inside any city and between cities. Intra-city buses have timetables only nominally; nobody, including bus drives, seems to pay attention to them. So if your only means of transportation is a bus, you can never plan your schedule. This may be one of the reasons why many people are tolerant of others who do not come on time. I used to be very intolerant of any delay, as I thought and still think that wasting someone else's time by your delay is the worst kind of robbery besides taking away someone else's life. But as I myself am forced to be late due to the unreliable timetables of intra- and inter-city buses, I have become far more tolerant of other people's delay, on condition that they let me know it. I do not trust people who are constantly late, and neither notify me of the delay nor apologize for it later.
Once I am inside a bus, especially an inter-city bus, it becomes my most efficient office; I either work with my computer, read books or supplement my sleep. Noisy voices of those who cannot do without their "electronic pacifizers" bother me far less than before, as I listen to music to protect my ears from their often stupid conversations. But they are doing at least something while traveling. One thing I really do not understand is that so many people even in inter-city buses simply do nothing - they simply sit still, neither do they seem to be meditating. I wonder whether they never get bored intellectually, doing nothing intellectually stimilating. Generally, I see only two groups of people who are reading in buses - Russian speakers and haredim. Where have the People of the Book disappeared? So sad.
13 November 2009 (26 Kheshvan 5770)
Having resumed teaching a language for speakers of other languages - Japanese in this specific case of mine - at my present academic home, Bar-Ilan University, a few weeks ago after five years' break, I feel that teaching foreign languages is my starting point as a teacher. A linguist does not have to know a number of foreign languages, nor does he have to (know how to) teach them, but this seems to constitute a very important part of myself as a linguist-shminguist.
Whether you can enjoy teaching or not depends a lot on your students. Among the most important ingredients are their motivation, intellectual curiosity and responsiveness. Without these three things your language class can turn into a living hell. I had such good luck when I taught Japanese and Hebrew back in Japan. Now I am experiencing no less good luck here in the place where I never thought of teaching Japanese when I was accepted as a lecturer in Hebrew linguistics. Here in my new course in elementary Japanese I have even noticed a fourth ingredient that can contribute to my joy of teaching - heterogeneity. Since the course is open to everyone, including the general public, majoring and/or interested in diverse disciplines, my "clientele" has never been more heterogeneous. The only common denominator seems to be their common interest in a language and its culture that are so different from theirs.
When I agreed to take upon myself this additional responsibility of teaching Japanese here, I took upon myself another mission - to turn the learning experience of my students into not only intellectual but even emotional pleasure, just as I enjoy when I learn Ashkenazic folk dance. I have learned that we learn something best when we enjoy it to such an extent that we are not even aware that we are learning anything at all. But teaching a language has far more challenges than teaching dancing, as the former is more intellectually oriented. My greatest hope is to make my students experience those "Eureka" moments linguistically and socioculturally through the study of Japanese and its culture.
I am also making an experiment to implant here what I consider one of the best student cultures in Japan - the whole class going out to eat and drink together, which is totally missing in Israel. In this respect I am so sorry for students studying in Israeli universities. Many of the students are busy with themselves, and have no time for socializing with their peers, to say nothing of their teachers, for many of whom teaching is just an unhappy obligation they are forced to fulfill against their will.
20 November 2009 (3 Kislev 5770)
I feel rather sorry for students in Israeli universities because their campus life consists of only one thing - each of them comes to class individually and goes back home right after class individually. It is true that study is and must be the most important thing for students, but I (want to) believe that universities can and should offer more than that.
If I compare Israeli universities with their Japanese counterparts, one of the things that are totally missing here is extracurricular activities, that is, participation in various academic, artistic and physical activities beyond your major together with those from various faculties and departments who share your interest. Such clubs do not even exist at all here in the first place. Everyone seems to be busy with his or her own affairs. This seems to me individualism at its worst. Although study should be the first priority, we can enrich our campus life by spending time on a regular basis with other students with different academic backgrounds and interests - this is something we cannot attain just by exchanging a few words before and after class with those who happen to participate in the same courses we take.
I am also sorry that even within one department students do not know each other well enough. They are compartmentalized, as it were. There is no opportunity whatsoever that enables them to socialize with each other. In my opinion we are inspired far more in such cozy social gatherings, as in corridors in conferences, than in purely academic settings. I really miss that Japanese culture of drinking parties where not only the students but also the teachers of the same department participate. I often found shmoozings with my teachers in such parties far more inspiring even academically than their lectures. Israeli students are deprived of this precious opportunity. Again, this is individualism at its worst.
I also miss the opportunity to socialize with my colleagues. In Japanese universities it is quite common that only teachers go out to eat and drink together. Of course, there are pros and cons in this custom. But I see more pros than cons. Here I can socialize with my colleagues only when we happen to be in the same conference, but even then seldom over a glass of wine.
Evenings are the best time for socializing, and the best ideas can be born in such informal settings. So I am so sorry that Israeli universities turn into ghost towns after six in the evening, when Japanese universities are the liveliest (and probably also the loveliest). There is even no place where you can eat and drink after six. Everyone seems to be busy with his or her own private life in the evening. I used to think that Israeli society is warmer than Japanese society, but I am already convinced that in a number areas the latter is much warmer (and more interactive) than the former. I also realize that individualism is a double-edged sword.
There is one character trait of mine that may be positive in itself but often makes my life difficult. It is my sensitivity to insensitive people. By insensitive people I mean those who are not even aware that they are doing or saying something they do not want others to do or say to them. Every time I encounter such insensitive behaviors, whether verbal or non-verbal, I become totally devastated. It takes time to recharge myself with positive energy, but insensitive people can destroy it in a second.
Some insensitive behaviors are individualistic, while others are cultural. What devastate me more are the latter, as asking someone to stop them would not eliminate them. And certain insensitive behaviors are specific to certain cultures. I know, for example, that some of such behaviors I encounter here in Israel all the time are totally non-existent in Japan, and vice versa. I have learned to simply ignore insensitive people and stay away from them, but in certain contexts I have to remain with them.
The worst insensitive behavior for me is not to criticize someone directly. In this respect I have found a big difference between Israel and Japan in the ways people criticize others indirectly. In Japan they do so behind your back, but sooner or later such criticisms reach you in the end. When I still lived there, I often quarreled directly with those who continued to behave as if nothing had happened between us but criticized me behind my back, thus worsening our relationship. I simply could not stand this hypocrisy. Here in Israel, on the other hand, I seldom encounter this kind of insensitive behavior; instead, some people whisper their criticism against you with each other in your presence, thinking (erroneously) that you would not hear them. This kind of insensitive behavior is so rampant here. Actually, the word "insensitive" is too mild to describe it accurately; this is Israeli chutzpah at its worst. Personally, I find this Israeli version of indirect criticism far less tolerable and far more insulting that its Japanese counterpart.
One such behavior is enough for me to stop trusting someone for good. But what really bothers me is not their insensitive behavior itself but the fact that my peace of mind is shattered by those who mean nothing to me. Insensitive people are spared this trouble, as they are insensitive to other insensitive people. This always makes me ask myself whether what I did or said to someone else was sensitive enough.