Talking to Japanese students
When I first came to Tokyo as an English teacher, I probably unwittingly talked too fast and used language that went far above my teenaged students’ heads. I’m fairly sure I did. Since then, I have learned to slow my speech down and use much simpler vocabulary. It’s second nature to me now. When I visit Canada on vacation, some people think I speak strangely (repeating myself and speaking very slowly) and ask where I’m from? Now, when I meet new, young foreign English teachers here, I can quickly identify what I think are mistakes they make and language they use that I know our teenage students completely don’t get. And not only the students, but I suspect that many Japanese English teachers also don’t get many of the things that I hear new, young teachers say. Most important of all is not to make jokes. Jokes are heavily culture-specific and definitely don’t translate well. Don’t joke.
I don’t like contractions, especially future tense contractions with “will” - words like “I’ll,” “he’ll,” “it’ll” and “we’ll” and I tend to avoid them. To many Japanese students “it’ll” is almost like a tongue twister. And I absolutely despise and avoid contractions like “gonna,” “coulda,” “woulda,” and “hafta.” I knew a British English teacher who insisted on teaching his high school students to speak like that, saying that it was “real” English that every native speaker uses. I countered that I thought it was stupid, poorly-educated and lower-class gutter English, and that I never spoke like that. Instead, I enunciate clearly enough so that “What do you … ,” for example, NEVER comes out as “waddaya.” Maybe I sound pedantic to other native English speakers.
I speak in a way that might sound to a native English speaker like I have a speech impediment.
Here’s what I sound like:
First, I count the students, “1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,19, 20.”
Then, even though the Japanese teacher in the room might have already called the role in Japanese, I call their names on my seating chart (“zasekihyo”) to reconfirm that they are all there and that they are all sitting in the proper place. Sometimes, calling their names and making eye contact is all the personal interaction I might have with a student during the allotted time, so calling the role is important to me.
Then I say,
“Good morning. Good morning. Today … today … today is Tuesday. Tuesday. Today is Tuesday, June 1st. Tuesday, June 1st. Today is Tuesday, June 1, 2021. Repeat after me. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday. June 1, 2021.”
One day in May, I met a little four-year old girl, a private student of another teacher at a language school where I work part-time. I like children, and I like to talk to them even if they are not my students. I have several very young students myself. This girl had just ended her lesson in an adjacent room and was helping her teacher clean up by returning some crayons and marker pens to my room, where I was relaxing and preparing for a later class.
I said:
“Hello! Hello! Your T-shirt is pink! It’s pink! It’s a pink T-shirt. Pink! Look! Minnie Mouse. That’s Minnie Mouse! It’s a pink, Minnie Mouse T-shirt!”
This particular girl loves Minnie Mouse, and she is proud of her cute T-shirt. She seemed happy that I commented on it.
This kind of speech is deliberate and calculated. I talk this way 1) to slow myself down so I don’t overwhelm Japanese students with blah-blah-blah-blah-blah; and, 2) I want to repeat myself as much as possible in order to give the students ample time to hear my voice, to hear my words, to identify words they have already studied, to hear me form sentences, and to integrate my words in their heads.
Many Japanese students don’t like English.
I know because I ask them and they tell me so.
I have witnessed other foreign teachers teaching. Sometimes, I sharply disagree with some of the things I see them doing - like that British guy I mentioned - and I sometimes think their manner of presenting themselves in front of class is poor, hasty and unorganised. I watch the students to try to gauge their reactions. Teaching a class is a performance. I have to be in control: I have to control myself, then control the students, then control the content. As a teacher, I am kind of like a professional observer of teenage behaviour.
I have spent years re-writing lessons to strip out non-utilitarian words, unnecessary words, and overly-difficult words based on what I have discovered works. Many Japanese students don’t like English. I know because I ask them and they tell me so. One of the most important things for me is to keep the language I teach potentially practical for their lives. If the language is not useful, they won’t use it and they won’t even imagine using it. If students don’t have a need for language, then they won’t remember it let alone use it. So, I have spent years crafting my lessons around Japanese teenagers’ lives and environment. I concern myself largely with language function - meaning what language is used in different situations - as well as with functional language - meaning what works in class. The biggest problem to address is the common notion among Japanese students that they don’t need a second language. They believe they can live their lives just fine in Japan, without a second language and without ever going abroad (which is quite the opposite of the prevailing notion in the 1980s when Japan was still booming like crazy).