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The music outside is blaring. Campus is filled to capacity with students and visitors. Everyone is smiling and having a good time. In fact, I haven't seen our university so lively since... well, since this time last year.
You may ask, "Is it graduation day?" "Is it open campus?" "Are all of those people coming to listen to your exhilarating, 8:00 a.m. 'Lecture on the American short story?'"
Well, the short answer would be: "No, of course not!" But the longer answer is much more interesting.
You see, it's time for the annual University (Culture) Festival, which always coincides with the weekend surrounding "Bunka no Hi" (Culture Day) in early November. Throughout Japan at this time of year, there are activities, award ceremonies and festivals to celebrate the rather slippery concept of "culture," and universities are no exception. In fact, for many students it is easily one of the highlights of the year - for some, I would go so far as to say that it comprises the highpoint of their entire college careers.
In any event, as the mighty Culture Festival rolls around once again, I wanted to take a moment to pause and reflect upon this all-important rite of passage in Japan. Schools at every level in Japan hold such festivals, but it is at university that the phenomenon can be seen in its purest form.
Now, this all brings to mind something that a colleague once told me: "in Japan, college students spend one semester preparing for University Festival, and then another semester recovering from it!" I then asked him, "But when does that leave time for study?" to which he just rolled his eyes and laughed, in a knowing sort of way, at my naïve question.
Since asking that rather innocent question, a few years ago, I have noticed a few things. First of all, it is easy to see that college students in Japan throw themselves into their extracurricular activities, rather than into their studies. I assume that this is well known to most people living in Japan, though in my case it has taken a rather long and painful amount of time to actually sink in.
It is said that university is a time for maturation and socialization, a time for the creation of social bonds, as well as a time for personal growth and a bit of relaxation after years of "Examination Hell." In a way, it seems to me the opposite of the way university education is envisioned (if not always realized) in North America: here in Japan, it would seem that students work extremely hard to get into university, but then relax once they do so, and simply ride the so-called "escalator" to graduation day. Making connections with others in one's faculty, department, club/circle, or seminar seems far more important than worrying about one's grade point average, graduating with honors, and so forth. So, in this sense, the Culture Festival, which is a time for socialization outside the walls of the classroom, takes on a great deal of importance.
Another thing I've noticed is that even otherwise shy students oftentimes become outgoing in these group activities and events. In this way, I think that something I once read - about how many Japanese people love freedom, but "within constraints" - is true. It is often said that Japan is a country of imitators, lacking creativity or originality. Of course, this is pure nonsense, but I think one of the reasons for the persistence of the stereotype is that outside observers often fail to see that Japanese sociality is such that people tend to feel most comfortable when placed within certain limits, within some sort of definite structure, and only then given free reign over their talents or imagination. I've found that this approach really helps in the classroom, as opposed to simply pointing at someone and asking for his or her "opinion," or for him or her to "lead discussion," which is usually followed by a prolonged period of agonizing silence. Once placed within a firm structure (say, a team of 3-4 members), then given a task with clear limits and boundaries, you would be surprised at how creative otherwise lackluster or introverted people can be. I would go so far as to say that the resourcefulness and enthusiasm that I have seen in Japan, under the aforementioned circumstances, rivals, if not surpasses, what I have seen in American universities.
Finally, this brings to mind something I've noticed about the larger phenomenon of public performance in Japan - more specifically, Karaoke, and a personal favorite of mine, the popular NHK television show Nodojiman (literally, "Throat Boast," though a better translation would be something like "Proudly Singing"), which has been transmitted on a weekly basis (first by radio and then, later, on television) continually since the end of the war. In Karaoke, and certainly in Nodojiman, people who in many cases may be self-effacing or introverted, even painfully shy by nature, suddenly are transformed into outgoing performers. Once again, it seems to be because there is a structure within which one can perform. In other words, the structure - by which I mean a set of limits or boundaries that forms a certain context, with its own appropriate behavior - seems to free the individual of worry and doubt, so that, in some cases, even withdrawn or reclusive people will feel no embarrassment when revealing themselves to others in a very personal way. I am always amazed when I watch Nodojiman, or when I go out for an evening of Karaoke - or attend an Enkai gathering, to take another example - and see people unafraid to stand in front of others and sing, make jokes, cry or otherwise lay their feelings bare. In some cases it is a small audience, but in the case of Nodojiman, I would say that it must be in the thousands, if not more.
As I was leaving campus yesterday, I bumped into one of the most timid students I have ever encountered - so timid, in fact, that to this day I am still unsure whether or not he speaks any English, so reluctant is he to say anything beyond a few half-whispered words of Japanese in class. He handed me a flyer, and, amidst the grinning, bowing and mumbling, I can only assume asked me to watch his band perform the next day. So, this morning, my jaw dropped when I saw him up on stage - the lead singer, no less! - having the time of his life, as the girls swooned, the boys cheered, and I scratched my head in astonishment. Only in Japan!
On "Culture Festivals"
The music outside is blaring. Campus is filled to capacity with students and visitors. Everyone is smiling and having a good time. In fact, I haven't seen our university so lively since... well, since this time last year.
You may ask, "Is it graduation day?" "Is it open campus?" "Are all of those people coming to listen to your exhilarating, 8:00 a.m. 'Lecture on the American short story?'"
Well, the short answer would be: "No, of course not!" But the longer answer is much more interesting.
You see, it's time for the annual University (Culture) Festival, which always coincides with the weekend surrounding "Bunka no Hi" (Culture Day) in early November. Throughout Japan at this time of year, there are activities, award ceremonies and festivals to celebrate the rather slippery concept of "culture," and universities are no exception. In fact, for many students it is easily one of the highlights of the year - for some, I would go so far as to say that it comprises the highpoint of their entire college careers.
In any event, as the mighty Culture Festival rolls around once again, I wanted to take a moment to pause and reflect upon this all-important rite of passage in Japan. Schools at every level in Japan hold such festivals, but it is at university that the phenomenon can be seen in its purest form.
Now, this all brings to mind something that a colleague once told me: "in Japan, college students spend one semester preparing for University Festival, and then another semester recovering from it!" I then asked him, "But when does that leave time for study?" to which he just rolled his eyes and laughed, in a knowing sort of way, at my naïve question.
Since asking that rather innocent question, a few years ago, I have noticed a few things. First of all, it is easy to see that college students in Japan throw themselves into their extracurricular activities, rather than into their studies. I assume that this is well known to most people living in Japan, though in my case it has taken a rather long and painful amount of time to actually sink in.
It is said that university is a time for maturation and socialization, a time for the creation of social bonds, as well as a time for personal growth and a bit of relaxation after years of "Examination Hell." In a way, it seems to me the opposite of the way university education is envisioned (if not always realized) in North America: here in Japan, it would seem that students work extremely hard to get into university, but then relax once they do so, and simply ride the so-called "escalator" to graduation day. Making connections with others in one's faculty, department, club/circle, or seminar seems far more important than worrying about one's grade point average, graduating with honors, and so forth. So, in this sense, the Culture Festival, which is a time for socialization outside the walls of the classroom, takes on a great deal of importance.
Another thing I've noticed is that even otherwise shy students oftentimes become outgoing in these group activities and events. In this way, I think that something I once read - about how many Japanese people love freedom, but "within constraints" - is true. It is often said that Japan is a country of imitators, lacking creativity or originality. Of course, this is pure nonsense, but I think one of the reasons for the persistence of the stereotype is that outside observers often fail to see that Japanese sociality is such that people tend to feel most comfortable when placed within certain limits, within some sort of definite structure, and only then given free reign over their talents or imagination. I've found that this approach really helps in the classroom, as opposed to simply pointing at someone and asking for his or her "opinion," or for him or her to "lead discussion," which is usually followed by a prolonged period of agonizing silence. Once placed within a firm structure (say, a team of 3-4 members), then given a task with clear limits and boundaries, you would be surprised at how creative otherwise lackluster or introverted people can be. I would go so far as to say that the resourcefulness and enthusiasm that I have seen in Japan, under the aforementioned circumstances, rivals, if not surpasses, what I have seen in American universities.
Finally, this brings to mind something I've noticed about the larger phenomenon of public performance in Japan - more specifically, Karaoke, and a personal favorite of mine, the popular NHK television show Nodojiman (literally, "Throat Boast," though a better translation would be something like "Proudly Singing"), which has been transmitted on a weekly basis (first by radio and then, later, on television) continually since the end of the war. In Karaoke, and certainly in Nodojiman, people who in many cases may be self-effacing or introverted, even painfully shy by nature, suddenly are transformed into outgoing performers. Once again, it seems to be because there is a structure within which one can perform. In other words, the structure - by which I mean a set of limits or boundaries that forms a certain context, with its own appropriate behavior - seems to free the individual of worry and doubt, so that, in some cases, even withdrawn or reclusive people will feel no embarrassment when revealing themselves to others in a very personal way. I am always amazed when I watch Nodojiman, or when I go out for an evening of Karaoke - or attend an Enkai gathering, to take another example - and see people unafraid to stand in front of others and sing, make jokes, cry or otherwise lay their feelings bare. In some cases it is a small audience, but in the case of Nodojiman, I would say that it must be in the thousands, if not more.
As I was leaving campus yesterday, I bumped into one of the most timid students I have ever encountered - so timid, in fact, that to this day I am still unsure whether or not he speaks any English, so reluctant is he to say anything beyond a few half-whispered words of Japanese in class. He handed me a flyer, and, amidst the grinning, bowing and mumbling, I can only assume asked me to watch his band perform the next day. So, this morning, my jaw dropped when I saw him up on stage - the lead singer, no less! - having the time of his life, as the girls swooned, the boys cheered, and I scratched my head in astonishment. Only in Japan!
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