A world of waiting (The Japanese obsession with ceremonies)
The new school year begins in April here in Japan (crazy American school system), and apart from rowdier kids and newcomers, this translates to a lot of ceremonies. The Japanese love their ceremonies, mainly because it gives them an excuse for hours of hours of speeches, which as we know is the only thing that the Japanese love more than ceremonies and porn.
Graduation
Despite riding each other like cowboys throughout the rehearsals, the sannensei were surprisingly well-behaved at their graduation. I guess they got all their kicks out of the way at the ‘pre-graduation where all the other students have to suck up to the seniors’ ceremony.
Anyway, graduation. Rather predictably, entered the gym to politer applause and an uplifting musical chorus. I have to assume that they set everything to music to give the kids the deluded impression that they’re Hollywood actors filming their touching final scene. Given that most of them will end up working in the factories that comprise half of this town, I don’t blame them for indulging a few childish dreams. Still, I have to admit I love it at Sports Day when William Tell’s Overture starts playing the instant the starting pistol is fired – really makes the whole thing seem quite comical.
It didn’t take long for the tears to start. Most students had already stuffed at least a dozen tissues down their shirt in preparation, but the teachers were carting spare boxes around just in case. You wouldn’t believe how easily Japanese students cry. And before you start calling me insensitive and unemotional, try to keep a straight face when a student comes crying to the staffroom because they lost a mechanical pencil. Anyway, they’re all bawling in fairly short order. I’m not just talking about the girls either. It’s kind of cute seeing 14-year-old boys moved to tears at the thought of leaving classmates that spent their years viciously torturing each other.
After the conclusion of the ceremony, the crying continued for another 2 hours. Just students milling around, signing books, taking photos and sobbing uncontrollably. I don’t know what the universal standard is, but at my highschool graduation there was approximately zero emotion. Some of us had been classmates for over a decade (small straight-through private school, K-12), but we were so eager to forget that place that our best friends were lucky to get even a goodbye. These Japanese kids have been together for all of 3 years, but you’d swear they were leaving their firstborns. Logically, it probably has a lot to do with all the extra-curricular bonding activities students are subjected to (such as clubs that demand fiercer loyalty than a street gang), but honestly I can’t see how any of them could miss an institution that turned a blind eye to bullying so severe it resulted in jailed students and suicide attempts. But hey, this is Japan. They tend to be rather precious about these things.
The Goodbye Ceremony
So, after a two-week Spring break (during which most students still come to school for clubs. Seriously, are these kids being raised under powerlines?), the old students returned for the ‘Goodbye’ ceremony. Owing to the educational system’s insistence on moving teachers to new schools every few years to prevent complacency, 8 of our staff were leaving. Just for the record, the most notable of these were the teacher whom I suspected of sleeping in the staffroom, and clumsy-sensei from the Sports Festival.
As my family was visiting at the time, they’d been invited to attend the event. Personally I took a certain grim pleasure from forcing someone else to share the experience of standing on the cold gym floor in socks while people drone on in another language for two hours.
Afterwards, as we were leaving the gym, I discovered someone had been waiting for me. A young man with hair dyed at least three different colours, a dozen facial piercings, and dressed eccentrically. I don’t tend to judge people on dress, because I know I can be a little odd myself. But it took me all of about 0.8 seconds to realise that he was connected to one of my punk ninensei brats, and consequently start praying that he wasn’t about to start screaming obscenities at my mother.
Thankfully, his plan of action was far tamer. As soon as we passed through the door, he leapt out screaming and fired a party popper at me – directed from his crotch. I’m proud to report that I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a shocked reaction – after countless molestations by elementary school students, having confetti ejaculated on my seemed almost polite.
Momentarily disappointed, he regathered himself and started flashing all his piercings provocatively, including a most impressive iguana impression to show off the stud in his tongue. I told him that was some mighty fine facial decoration, and I was impressed by his hair colours considering asian hair is so notoriously difficult to dye. Stumped again, and not wanting to lose face in front of the gang of students that had crowded around to watch me be intimidated, he decided it was time to engage in conversation (in Japanese).
Insano Mc Crazypants: Aaah. Hmmm. So, you’re a foreigner huh?
Me: Yep.
Seeing him eye off my family, whom I’d been trying to shield lest this guy decide public nudity was required, I added ‘that’s my mum, little sister and little brother’.
At this point he started fondling my sister’s hair (which, I should probably interject, is hot pink) in a manner not dissimilar to gorilla grooming habits, so I tried to call his attention back.
Me: Well, your hair’s pretty cool. Do you dye it yourself?
IMCP: Eeeh? Of course I did it myself.
Me: Of course.
IMCP: (looking me up and down in my formal attire for the ceremony) So… I like ROCK. Do you like ROCK?
Me: Sure, I like rock. (please note: in Japan, most can’t classify foreign music beyond two categories: hiphop, and rock. Despite the fact that a lot of what I listen to is quite mellow, by Japanese social decree I don’t fit into the ‘hiphop’ category and must therefore be into rock).
IMCP: What bands do you like?
Me: (trying to think of a band popular enough that he’ll be familiar with it) Well, I like Green Day…
IMCP: Green Day? That’s pop punk! Aren’t you into any HARDCORE bands?
Me: I’m not really into hardcore.
IMCP: What a drag.
Me: Yeah, sorry about that. But hey, it was great to see you.
I made a hasty exit with my family, who’d been thoroughly amused by the encounter. My mum seemed chuffed at how I ‘seemed to get along with the local hooligans’. I’m just glad it turned out to be one of the few school events that didn’t end with us calling the police.
The Entrance Ceremony
The day before the Entrance ceremony, we held the pre-entrance ceremony. It’s essentially the same thing, but without the first years and the plethora of guests from the PTA and BOE. This is when we all discovered the return of one of the bad ninensei boys (now officially a sannensei). He’d spent the last few months in juvenile detention, but he was back. And he was tardy. He made his grand entrance 20 minutes late – in a headlock, care of a teacher so laid-back we call him Britty-hippy.
Bad Boy took his seat, and after a few cuffs to the back of the head and some hair-pulling by the kendo teacher, he shut up. That is until the vice principal instructed everyone to stand and bow, at which point Bad Boy shouted ‘ATTACK!’ at the top of his lungs and charged through the gym as though leaping gloriously into battle.
It’s going to be an interesting year with him at the top of the school.
Graduation
Despite riding each other like cowboys throughout the rehearsals, the sannensei were surprisingly well-behaved at their graduation. I guess they got all their kicks out of the way at the ‘pre-graduation where all the other students have to suck up to the seniors’ ceremony.
Anyway, graduation. Rather predictably, entered the gym to politer applause and an uplifting musical chorus. I have to assume that they set everything to music to give the kids the deluded impression that they’re Hollywood actors filming their touching final scene. Given that most of them will end up working in the factories that comprise half of this town, I don’t blame them for indulging a few childish dreams. Still, I have to admit I love it at Sports Day when William Tell’s Overture starts playing the instant the starting pistol is fired – really makes the whole thing seem quite comical.
It didn’t take long for the tears to start. Most students had already stuffed at least a dozen tissues down their shirt in preparation, but the teachers were carting spare boxes around just in case. You wouldn’t believe how easily Japanese students cry. And before you start calling me insensitive and unemotional, try to keep a straight face when a student comes crying to the staffroom because they lost a mechanical pencil. Anyway, they’re all bawling in fairly short order. I’m not just talking about the girls either. It’s kind of cute seeing 14-year-old boys moved to tears at the thought of leaving classmates that spent their years viciously torturing each other.
After the conclusion of the ceremony, the crying continued for another 2 hours. Just students milling around, signing books, taking photos and sobbing uncontrollably. I don’t know what the universal standard is, but at my highschool graduation there was approximately zero emotion. Some of us had been classmates for over a decade (small straight-through private school, K-12), but we were so eager to forget that place that our best friends were lucky to get even a goodbye. These Japanese kids have been together for all of 3 years, but you’d swear they were leaving their firstborns. Logically, it probably has a lot to do with all the extra-curricular bonding activities students are subjected to (such as clubs that demand fiercer loyalty than a street gang), but honestly I can’t see how any of them could miss an institution that turned a blind eye to bullying so severe it resulted in jailed students and suicide attempts. But hey, this is Japan. They tend to be rather precious about these things.
The Goodbye Ceremony
So, after a two-week Spring break (during which most students still come to school for clubs. Seriously, are these kids being raised under powerlines?), the old students returned for the ‘Goodbye’ ceremony. Owing to the educational system’s insistence on moving teachers to new schools every few years to prevent complacency, 8 of our staff were leaving. Just for the record, the most notable of these were the teacher whom I suspected of sleeping in the staffroom, and clumsy-sensei from the Sports Festival.
As my family was visiting at the time, they’d been invited to attend the event. Personally I took a certain grim pleasure from forcing someone else to share the experience of standing on the cold gym floor in socks while people drone on in another language for two hours.
Afterwards, as we were leaving the gym, I discovered someone had been waiting for me. A young man with hair dyed at least three different colours, a dozen facial piercings, and dressed eccentrically. I don’t tend to judge people on dress, because I know I can be a little odd myself. But it took me all of about 0.8 seconds to realise that he was connected to one of my punk ninensei brats, and consequently start praying that he wasn’t about to start screaming obscenities at my mother.
Thankfully, his plan of action was far tamer. As soon as we passed through the door, he leapt out screaming and fired a party popper at me – directed from his crotch. I’m proud to report that I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a shocked reaction – after countless molestations by elementary school students, having confetti ejaculated on my seemed almost polite.
Momentarily disappointed, he regathered himself and started flashing all his piercings provocatively, including a most impressive iguana impression to show off the stud in his tongue. I told him that was some mighty fine facial decoration, and I was impressed by his hair colours considering asian hair is so notoriously difficult to dye. Stumped again, and not wanting to lose face in front of the gang of students that had crowded around to watch me be intimidated, he decided it was time to engage in conversation (in Japanese).
Insano Mc Crazypants: Aaah. Hmmm. So, you’re a foreigner huh?
Me: Yep.
Seeing him eye off my family, whom I’d been trying to shield lest this guy decide public nudity was required, I added ‘that’s my mum, little sister and little brother’.
At this point he started fondling my sister’s hair (which, I should probably interject, is hot pink) in a manner not dissimilar to gorilla grooming habits, so I tried to call his attention back.
Me: Well, your hair’s pretty cool. Do you dye it yourself?
IMCP: Eeeh? Of course I did it myself.
Me: Of course.
IMCP: (looking me up and down in my formal attire for the ceremony) So… I like ROCK. Do you like ROCK?
Me: Sure, I like rock. (please note: in Japan, most can’t classify foreign music beyond two categories: hiphop, and rock. Despite the fact that a lot of what I listen to is quite mellow, by Japanese social decree I don’t fit into the ‘hiphop’ category and must therefore be into rock).
IMCP: What bands do you like?
Me: (trying to think of a band popular enough that he’ll be familiar with it) Well, I like Green Day…
IMCP: Green Day? That’s pop punk! Aren’t you into any HARDCORE bands?
Me: I’m not really into hardcore.
IMCP: What a drag.
Me: Yeah, sorry about that. But hey, it was great to see you.
I made a hasty exit with my family, who’d been thoroughly amused by the encounter. My mum seemed chuffed at how I ‘seemed to get along with the local hooligans’. I’m just glad it turned out to be one of the few school events that didn’t end with us calling the police.
The Entrance Ceremony
The day before the Entrance ceremony, we held the pre-entrance ceremony. It’s essentially the same thing, but without the first years and the plethora of guests from the PTA and BOE. This is when we all discovered the return of one of the bad ninensei boys (now officially a sannensei). He’d spent the last few months in juvenile detention, but he was back. And he was tardy. He made his grand entrance 20 minutes late – in a headlock, care of a teacher so laid-back we call him Britty-hippy.
Bad Boy took his seat, and after a few cuffs to the back of the head and some hair-pulling by the kendo teacher, he shut up. That is until the vice principal instructed everyone to stand and bow, at which point Bad Boy shouted ‘ATTACK!’ at the top of his lungs and charged through the gym as though leaping gloriously into battle.
It’s going to be an interesting year with him at the top of the school.
Very true about the rock and hip hop thing. When people ask what music i like I say ROCK, because if I said hardcore punk and metalcore they would have no clue. So I am known as a rock chick, hehe.
Posted by Keleidogamer | 12:40 PM