Culture Day

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Today was yet another special day in the town of Tamagawa. This time it was a celebration of Japanese culture. The Japanese are extremely committed to maintaining a strong cultural identity and this was one of its manifestations. Another one is granting the title of “National Treasure” to Japanese citizens who are master craftsmen or connoisseurs of an element of Japanese culture like kabuki or flower arrangement. Like Sports Day before it, Culture Day required weeks of preparation and planning. Classes were knocked off and the school day casually extended in order to make the event as perfect as possible.
Culture Day entailed dramas, songs, traditional Japanese dance, and a recitation of English speeches originally spoken at a speech contest. I could not quite figure out what role they play in culture day, other than as some vague sort of internationalization attempt. The most enthralling part of the day for me was the “kagura,” an ancient ceremonial dance. Students dressed up in incredibly elaborate costumes, worth tens of thousands of dollars, and acted out an encounter between god and the devil. I understood very little because they used archaic Japanese. However, it was still fascinating to watch an authentic Japanese art.
As usual, I played my own small part in the day. I was casually sitting down in my seat, watching the performance, when a voice on the loudspeaker bellowed out, “Scott sensei: please come to the stage.” That subtle reminder reminded me that it was time for my big part. I was aware enough to grab a copy of the lyrics to the song that the 7th grade students and I were about to sing, and I headed for the spotlight. I was semi-proud of myself for not messing up the Japanese. Of course, I don’t think anyone would have noticed, much less said anything.
That musical number was not to be the end of my participation. As a genuine (assistant) teacher, I was welcomed to perform in the teachers’ part of Culture Day. It was another song, but this time it was a purely instrumental rendition. I was given the awesomely important role of banging two sticks together in what is vaguely referred to as “rhythm.” I was so brimming with unwarranted self-confidence from other teachers’ compliments that I told them I would play the clarinet next year. I wonder if they will hold me to that.
After lunch, there was a ping-pong tournament among the students. Through sleight-of-hand and other tricks that I cleverly held up my sleeve, I was able to hold my own against elementary school and junior high school students. However, the best was yet to come. The students informed me that due to my thrilling and daring conquest, I was permitted to have a prize of my choosing. As I perused the victory box, nothing caught my eye. However, just then I spotted the prize I knew I had to lay a claim to, a wooden sword. Sure, it may not be the kind that samurai used to deal the deathblow to their opponent in their classic duels (that we know so well from the movies), but it was still a genuine practice sword, used in the martial art known as kendo. From what I have read, Kendo is more a sport than an art, in which the three points of victory are effective blows to the left wrist, the right wrist, and the head. I realized during the car ride home that it might be a mite difficult to bring the sword back to America. Rather than taking the chance that somebody wary of my hijacking inclinations will snatch it, I think I shall leave it here in this house as an eternal reminder of my ping-pong prowess.
At the other school I teach at, my role in Culture Day was a bit more subdued. Nevertheless, I did manage to make an appearance on a video in which all students and teachers related their viewpoint on the meaning of courage. My line was pretty corny, but it was all I was capable of saying in Japanese. It was something to the effect of: “Whatever may happen, trying your hardest without giving up.” It lasted four and a half seconds, and then it was over. Then, large paper cranes make their way across the ceiling of the gymnasium and my poignant, powerful words vanished into the ether. Followed by each Culture Day was, of course, a party. Yesterday, the main course was a fish, sea bream according to my electronic dictionary. When I say fish, it was all there, from eye to fins and everything in between. However, when in Rome do as the Romans. I picked the fish up with my chopsticks and started crunching away. It was pretty crunchy. The End.

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