My Time on Jet

My time on JET By Cameron Chorpenning

All photos courtesy of Cameron Chorpenning

I’m not really a goal-oriented person. I didn’t go to Japan like some JETs do with a specific end result in mind, whether to remain in Japan and start a career there, or to use the experience as a stepping-stone towards a job back home. Like many of the JETs I met over the course of my time on the program, I took the job not knowing where it would ultimately lead me, and was really okay with that. Whenever someone asked me why I took the job, I usually answered that I’d been interested in Japan in college, but had never been to the country, and that I also had some interest in trying teaching, and thought the program was a convenient way to accomplish both simultaneously. By no means was this answer a lie, but on occasion, when asked the same question by the people I was closest to, I answered that I wanted to change. I didn’t really care how. That was part of the fun, I thought, seeing how I’d develop and evolve over the course of my journey. I mean, how could I not? It’s Japan! Surely life in such a different culture would be a shock to my system and grant me at least some small measure of clarity about my own life, if not life itself! How could I possibly return from such a life-altering experience without some sense of direction and purpose? As you have probably guessed, I have yet to experience such a revelation. In fact, the position I found myself in upon my return was strikingly similar to that in which I found myself when I was a fresh JET in Akita. Life was so good where you just came from, it was so comfortable, you had everything figured out--why did you feel the need to upend the life you’d built? Now, as then, I’m asking myself the same question. I think the answer lies somewhere in being able to tell the difference between contentment and complacency. The latter is obviously to be avoided, and the former is, in my own opinion, grossly underrated. Without going into (tedious) detail, I can say that prior to

my departures both to and from Japan I was risking complacency. Telling the difference between complacency and contentment is a skill I cannot yet claim to have fully developed, and I’m not sure that I could honestly say that I have ever experienced a sense of contentment lasting enough to really know and explain what characterizes it. Complacency, however, means to me a stagnation of personal growth. Of course, growth can take many forms, whether cultivating new skills, learning more about oneself, or nurturing new relationships. I don’t mean to say that by the end of my time in Japan I had ceased to develop in any of these ways. Rather, I was coming to a point of diminishing returns. As I’m sure many of you reading this can relate to, one major area in which I experienced a slowing of growth was in the workplace. A disclaimer: I adored my JTEs and my students. However, as many ALTs can attest, there’s really only so much room for us in most classrooms. Once we learn how to effectively occupy that space, expanding beyond it poses a challenge that only the most very special and motivated ALTs and JTEs are capable of. And I’m just not that special. Maybe had the job offered more opportunities to grow, I would’ve been more willing to extend my stay in Japan. But I don’t want to spend this article complaining about being an ALT--that was always one of my least favorite topics to discuss with other JETs anyway. Instead, I want to use this opportunity to reflect on how I did grow thanks to my time on JET. As a new ALT, I experienced a level of self-consciousness that I never had before in my life. I was so worried about saying or doing the wrong thing and representing myself and my country poorly that it actually became a hindrance to my integrating with my community and my workplace. By the time I felt I had become actually comfortable in my new home and was ready to take more risks socially, the

pandemic struck, and I was suddenly unable to meet new people in my community as freely as before. Even now, I regret not having taken what felt at the time like risks by putting in the work to involve myself more with the people in my town. To be certain, I met many, many wonderful people and made relationships that I hope will endure years from now. But it’s hard not to wonder how many more people I could have met or how much deeper those relationships could have been had I been willing to exit my shell sooner. The openness and the willingness to take myself less seriously that enabled me to do so at all are skills that still require developing, but I can attribute the fact that I’m aware of my need to develop them at all to my experience in Japan. Countless times, I saw these very skills modeled by the people who approached me to ask where I was from, to try and practice their English, or even to feed me a local specialty. I certainly don’t stand out as much in the United States as I did in Japan, but I already notice that this openness is missing, or at least diminished here when compared to Akita. Perhaps it’s a result of small town living, where neighbors are trusted more implicitly, or maybe it’s because of the communal mindset common in Japan that is so

alien to highly individualized American culture. Whatever the case, I feel its absence as I continue striving to cultivate it in myself. As I do so, I can’t help but think: how many challenges facing our many countries and our entire species right now could begin to be overcome by letting our guards down a bit and taking the risk to talk with our neighbors or our coworkers? This simple yet daunting act is the first step in so much of the organizing and activism that have brought about much of the progress we now take for granted. It is what allows for a community in which people care for and support one another. I’m not so naïve as to think that if we all just talked to each other a little more, we could solve all the world’s problems. But I do know that if we remain committed chiefly to ourselves, or too afraid to be a neighbor, that we can forget about bettering our world. Maybe this is a bit of a dramatic turn to take in what was supposed to be a reflection on my time as a JET. I guess it was sort of a profound experience after all. So, if anyone were to ask me today if I achieved my goal of changing during my time in Japan, I’d have to tell them yes, a bit, but that I’m still working on it.