授業: Classes

Japan is very much a system of predictable events in the foreigner’s perception of an endlessly outlandish world. We gaijin marvel at the machine wrought of punctuality and hardened in a logic that truly takes the whole before each individual piece. Japan’s methodologies are a river and the people within its borders are mere drops of rain. Sure, there are ripples here and there, but those are soon lost in the inescapable current pulling us all along. In the past couple weeks, several events have transpired that have made this concept of sameness all the more evident in my eyes. I have noticed a phenomenon where, for the sake of the machine marching forward, the value of individuality gives way to what is supposed to happen. There are no exceptions.

I have found my future being shaped by preconceived systems that are determined to tell me where I belong now that I have entered into this Eastern society. The first point of no return came while I was still lounging in the plush northern californian suburb of my stateside residence. In order to test my Japanese proficiency, I was required to take an online exam. While the reasons for utilizing a dynamic problem set in an internet based placement test are not lost upon me, each question’s being timed did not lend themselves to my answers being of the highest quality. Perhaps I should have conducted some more research on the JCAT, but I contend that at the very least, that number of questions, multiple choice vs. written answer, and amount of time allowed to complete the test are superficial qualities any student has a right to know before being assessed on their ability to do even the most rudimentary academics. Keep in mind that while I may have been displeased with the conduction of the test, I scored and placed above my expectations.

I am so focused on the unforgiving nature of the JCAT due to my host institution, Waseda’s, abusively taking the results of the test and etching them in stone. For the first time, adjustments to class level are wholly unavailable to students; the score one receives in the space of forty-five minutes determines the standing with which one enters the Japanese program on campus. Despite the likelihood that the majority of students are placed into their courses correctly, there is no failsafe for those who may have had a single bad test day for any number of reasons. The school claims students may take a more difficult one credit elective class to compensate, but that does nothing to ease the grinding seven and a half hours the misdiagnosed student will be spending in the wrong intensive Japanese class each week. Luckily, the process of delineating Japanese classes to non-Japanese students described above has few far-reaching effects beyond the chip found on several international students’ shoulders thank God.

Course registration, purchasing a cell phone and every single adventure through the maze of subway lines and stations are all unquestionable examples of the system for the greater good, but where so much faith is placed on a single system I have to ask how sure these people are that their system is perfect, but before that, the end towards which all these means endeavor must itself be examined. My experiences being limited to Tokyo, I see the sole purpose for the endless amounts of regulation found in this urban landscape as funneling as many people through the motions as possible in the quickest amount of time. Without prior knowledge, navigating trains and applying for (yes applying, not getting) a cell phone require one to bend over backwards to merge with Tokyo’s society for the first time. There seems to be a severe lack of trust on the government’s part as to whether citizens can fend for themselves if allowed to move freely outside the binding world of contracts. In the overwhelming amount of paperwork and number of applications to do anything, I cannot fathom the amount of invisible red tape operating behind the scenes or the sheer number of bureaucrats having a heart attack each time they see my name written in English letters and not their own.

An example for the imperfection of a Japanese system that I can provide is Waseda’s course registration. In applying for classes (again that damn application), I was denied from two of my six classes meaning that instead of the 17 credits I should be working on now, I only have 11. I understand that classes fill up or get cancelled, that is expected, but what does not make sense is the fact that I now cannot register for my replacement classes until a week after they have started and can only check prospective classroom locations from a single notification board. Without allowing individuals to make instant changes to their own lives and schedules the odds that the same issues will arise the second time I have to abide by the same rules in the same system are relatively high… and let’s not forget the several instances of misinformation being unintentionally distributed. It’s not the system’s job to work for us; it’s our job to work for the system: An alien concept.

One Big Drop

p.s. little bit of a vent here, course scheduling is frustrating


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