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It's in Both Official Languages!
The author and his all-important teaching aid: a box of plain-old, ordinary Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. Once he finished with his presentations, he took great enjoyment in eating his teaching aid. I was reminded recently about how things we take for granted can bring a sense of joy and wonder to others, specifically in my case, to the Japanese. As the school year begins in April here, there has recently been an influx of new students, many of whom have never interacted with someone outside their culture. Thus, the past month has once again found me in that all too familiar position of making short presentations about Canada to each class of newbies.
After so many months of making such presentations throughout my time here, I’ve learnt to diversify my presentation each time so as to ward off both boredom and the tape recorder syndrome I was susceptible to while working at the Ukrainian Village: “Yes, it’s really 1927. Yes, really. Yes, I really live here. No, I have never heard of television.” So for this round of presentations, I decided to focus on something I’m ashamed I’ve never really dwelt on before, namely Canada’s bilingualism (sure, it’s open for debate as to how bilingual we actually are, but the fact remains that English and French are our official languages and 30% of Canadians count French as their first language. As one of the 70% who doesn’t, I figured it was high time I gave some props up to our other official language). While discussing the topic of bilingualism with a colleague, I mentioned that goods and services offered in Canada are often available in both languages. By way of example, I said that all packaging for products sold in Canada must be in French and English (according to the 1974 Consumer Packaging and Labelling Act). My colleague was intrigued by this and asked if I had any Canadian products I could bring in to show the class, which it just so happened I did, thanks to a very generous care package sent to me by my friend Jen.
It proved to a brilliant suggestion. My past presentations have gone off to various levels of enthusiasm ranging from mild excitement to utter ambivalence. But when I pulled out a box of Kraft Dinner, those kids went off. Seriously, they did. Each time there was a collective cry of “sugoi,” which would be about the equivalent of “wow,” or “amazing” in this context. Over Kraft Dinner no less! I could have shown any number of my pictures of Edmonton, Ottawa or Lake Louise and not match the reaction I got for that staple of cash-strapped North American college students.
In addition to my Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, I also passed around for the class’ perusal some other mundane grocery items such as a package of cream of asparagus soup, a box of Jello, and a package of hot chocolate mix. Talk about boring. Yet these kids were fascinated by it all. Their fascination was likely not due to the bilingual packaging, however, as I originally anticipated, but rather, I’ve come to decide, by the fact that these products offered a glimpse into our lives in the west on a more personal, intimate level. Sure, it’s all well and good to talk about pretty mountains, Anne of Green Gables (Red Haired Anne as she’s known here), clubbing baby seals, and all the other stuff we Canadians are so famous for, but that’s stuff the students already have some inkling of. What they don’t know and wouldn’t know unless they moved to Canada is how we live our daily lives. How is it different; how is it the same? What do our living rooms look like? What do our school classrooms look like? How do we get ready for work or school in the morning? What kinds of foods are available at the supermarket? These are the questions it seems they are yearning for answers to. I can point out all the things that make Canada great and unique, but as impressive as the plains of Saskatchewan are, they don’t really don’t offer that intimate glimpse into our daily lives. What’s more, how does someone from Japan relate to sprawling wheat fields and towering grain elevators? They can’t, and so such things are of passing interest. On the other hand, we both have to wear clothes, have a roof over our head, and keep ourselves feed. Anyone can understand the importance of satisfying such basic needs, and the subtle and not-so-subtle differences between the various means employed to meet these needs reveals more about life in another culture than some pretty mountains. Consequently, the opportunity for my Japanese students to interact with the physical manifestations of the means we use to meet our basic needs, such as Kraft Mac and Cheese, is a meaningful one.
Now I want to clarify that I don’t consider Kraft Mac and Cheese to be an important cultural property (unlike Tim Horton’s doughnuts). It really could have been any bilingually or non-bilingually packaged supermarket fare and the result would have been the same (in my own little world, I like to think that some students did find the bilingual packaging partially interesting, even if they couldn’t tell the English from the French. It helps me feel like I’ve at least promoted some awareness of Canada’s bilingualism). Kraft Dinner is just what I happened to have. Plus if you shake the box, it doubles as a musical instrument, a fact that wasn’t lost on my students as they passed the box around. In any case, I certainly wasn’t expecting such a strong reaction to a box of Mac and Cheese. Had I known plain, ordinary supermarket products would go over so well, I would have done my entire presentation about shopping at Superstore and skipped all that stuff about mountains and Anne. No, I wouldn’t have. That stuff’s important too and of interest to some students as well I’m sure. It’s just a shame though that it took me so long to realize that in addition to the famous stuff, the stuff we’d consider mundane is likewise fascinating for the folks over here.
Regardless of the untimeliness of my realization, I’m thankful it eventually did arrive. The students weren’t the only ones who had a good time with this round of presentations, after all. When I think about how a box of Kraft Dinner galvanized a whole class into one fitful bundle of excitement, I still find myself smiling in amusement. I doubt I will ever look at Mac and Cheese again without thinking, “sugoi.” And the next time you’re buying a box of ho-hum Kraft Dinner, please remember my students over here, clamouring to see, touch, and hold a box just like it as though it were a gift from the god of Japan himself, namely Seattle Mariners’ outfielder Ichiro Suzuki. Should you do so, hopefully, like me, you’ll have yourself a good chuckle.
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Hendrick
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Ah, what we take for granted...
Ken your entry reminds me of my friends who now live in England, who we had sent a care package recently of... wait for it... KD. It was gold to them, and they feasted on it for their anniversary like they were at Steak Village. It also reminds me of my trip to see the fam in DK, where everything from the cars to the toilets facinated me; it has inspired me to drive and poop the Danish way (ok, maybe that's too much info...)