POLESTAR
Volume 13 Issue 15 July 2016 Photo courtesy of Rachel Davidson
Photo courtesy of Colette English
Dear Hokkaido ALTs,
Shouts out to those departing this next month. It’s hard to imagine the mix of jubilation, trepidation, and nostalgia swirling through your minds these days, though we figure Hokkaido will stay close to you wherever you end up. Our profession is an odd one, certainly. It provides a daily challenge to ourselves and those around us and, maybe ok, the extent of its ultimate efficacy is an open debate. But, we believe, it is in service of something important. English education is a lifeline to an expanded world and worldview. For us, born with eigo in our blood, the ability to cross borders and cultures can seem natural. But, for many nationality is destiny. Sadly, kids who don’t take to English will likely have little opportunity to explore and understand the world outside of Japan. That fate is something worth fighting. What we will do after all this is over is the MelonKuma in the room for most of us during our time here. For many of us, this is a transitional phase in our lives. And so much the better that it is spent in Hokkaido. Best of luck in your future endeavors. We hope you continue to support English education in some way (and read Polestar, alright fair maybe not.) Congratulations. Your watch has ended.
Jack Powers, Editor Isabelle Legault, Designer Next submission deadline: July 30th
. s e r P e h From t aido Heya, Hokk
Ferfie Brownoff President | HAJET
Hokkaido, but it’s also done quite a lot to broaden my personal point of view too.
s most of you know, we wrapped the first big gathering of the new PC last month with the Summer Meeting at Lake Toya. Fewer still know just how summery that meeting was. Despite the fact that we were dealt some heavy rain and wicked winds (resulting in at least one tent losing its life at the hands of the lake), I’m happy to say that I had a great time.
I recently mused with a friend about what might have happened if I didn’t join HAJET last summer. I’d probably see some folks at the mandatory JET conferences and what not. It’s not to say that I’d be a total hermit (I think), but I certainly wouldn’t get out socializing with other ALTs nearly as much. That also means that I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to meet a lot of the folks here that have made living in Hokkaido as fun and memorable as it has been so far.
A
Yeah, I slept like a sack of crap both nights and was much colder than I had expected to be at the end of June. That said, I laughed harder on Saturday night than I have in months. On my drive back home, I realized that this was due to some of the wicked folks that I’ve met through HAJET. It was a long drive (shorter still than some of the eastern and northern members), but getting to see some faces that I hadn’t for a long time more than made up for it. On top of that, the resilience of the folks that gathered there was enough for me to call the weekend a win. I mean, for a good portion of the evening we were essentially huddled into an open air cooking gazebo with winds that weren’t showing any signs of waning; and of the 40-odd people there, I don’t remember a single kvetch in the bunch. What I’m getting at is that joining HAJET has expanded my horizons regarding seeing more of
I don’t mean to get all heavy on you, but I’m legitimately bummed that I’ll be saying goodbye to some rad folks in the coming weeks. I would’ve liked to have had the opportunity to hang out with many of you a lot more often and spent more time getting to know you. But that’s life. Thankfully, I can look back and emphatically deem joining HAJET a good move. I know lamenting the facts of life is a first world problem. Everyone has to say goodbye to folks in some way or another; fortunately, I remain hopeful that I’ll get to catch up with some of you at some point in the future. So if these are my biggest concerns following the harshest summer camping I’ve tried my hand at, then I’d say the weekend was more or less a success.
Thoughts from the
First Year Rep. Jon Curry First Year Representative | HAJET
S
ometimes life has a funny way of giving out names that apparently have some intrinsic comedic value over which you have no control. “Mora” becomes “Moran,” “Chun” becomes “Chunderbolt,” “Betrice” becomes... some obscure form of grain gambling…? You get the picture. Turns out my name is apparently ripe with hilarious opportunities! I used to be pretty salty about this, especially whenever anyone had the gall to call me Jonny-boy as a kid. Even now the name Jonny just… ew. No thanks. Not for me. Then the internet spawned the most infuriatingly absurd meme of all time: Daaaaaamn Daniel. Guess who’s back at it again with that exact middle name? To this day I still have friends who won’t let me live that down. But the true laugh factory goldmine is in my last name, hoo boy, let me tell you. I decide to cook curry for dinner? “ZOMG ur cookin ur family m8.” And if I eat said curry? “LOL dood ur such a cannibal.” I swear, I could be in the middle of a job interview and be asked, “If you had to choose one word to describe yourself what would it -?” and literally any of my friends would burst through the door and scream “SPICY!” and the interviewer would just point at them and be like “HAAAAA!” and my friend would point back and be like “HAAAAA!” and the interviewer would facetiously whisper “haha cuz his name is Curry.” But I ain’t even mad. In fact, thanks to my definitely blood-related cousin and NBA MVP, having the last name Curry basically makes me a celebrity. At least, that’s what all of my elementary kids (and one gullible junior high schooler) believe. Apparently, kids here are all aboard the Golden State hype train, so they naturally associate my liking basketball with anything they’ve seen related to the NBA. When a kid asked me if I knew about Steph Curry, I
swear my face curled up like the Grinch. So I tell the kid, “Yeah. He’s my cousin.” Being elementary schoolers, most of the kids didn’t know the word “cousin” just yet. One of them piped up and said, “Itoko?” To which I nodded. I could see the gears turning as they processed the information. When the connection from “itoko” to “cousin” to “my cousin” finally clicked, every kid in the hallway jumped with excitement. “HOLY CRAP ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” they shouted in Japanese. It took all of my willpower to keep from laughing and blowing my cover. As I nodded again, they bolted into the classrooms and grabbed other kids, screaming, “JON IS FAMOUS!” I even managed to trick one of the teachers into believing me. The excitement ended up working more in my favor than I anticipated; kids who normally slack off or mess around during class were more attentive and engaged. Kids who are typically quiet and shy were way more genki than usual. Sure, I may have created a massive lie that I have to maintain until I leave Japan. But it was totally worth it. Besides, the kids would have made the connection sooner or later, so really I just expedited the process. Moral of the story: as a gaijin, especially one who works with kids, you’re gonna get picked on, sometimes maliciously, more often innocently. Outlandish associations and assumptions will be made. Silly questions will be asked. At the end of the day, you have to learn not only how to roll with it, but also how to use it to your advantage. I’ve got an unusual last name and a big curly fro - you can trust me on this one. Loosen up, learn to laugh at yourself, and the little ones will love you for it. Shouts out to everyone who got put on blast in the first paragraph, even if they never read this article. Y’all da real MVPs.
HELLO
HELLO
HELLO
HELLO
HELLO
HELLO
my name is
my name is
my name is
my name is
my name is
my name is
HEC Foodie Feast
Ellen Mariano Project Outreach Coordinator | HAJET
For the fourth serving of the night, diners were presented
F
boochimgae (pancakes) from Sam Hong, a Niki ALT. The
or “A Foodie’s Feast,” a benefit dinner organized by the Hokkaido English Challenge (HEC), six chefs gave their time and carefully crafted a dish of deep significance to them in order to raise funds for this year’s camp. The event is one of the many efforts organized by this year's active HEC team. “A Foodies Feast” raised close to ￥100,000 for HEC's 5-day English camp for Hokkaido students. Every year the first place junior high school student on the test wins a two-week homestay in an English-speaking country of his or her choice. The 2015 winner lives in the town where the event took place. She made a guest appearance with her mother to make a donation and express her gratitude for her HEC experience. Joe Canty, an attendee of the dinner and a 2015 group leader at camp, was thrilled when the winner addressed the attendees. “Watching the winner speak to a large group of people with impeccable English and confidence made me so proud.” The event kicked off with spiced quinoa. This savory starter was prepared by Kristen Friedrich, a Chitose ALT because, “it’s easy to cook and very nutritious. Combined with spices and sweet fruit, it’s so delicious and healthy. My mom made it one time in the U.S. when I visited,” said Friedrich. Paula Kaufman, an ALT in Esashi, made Palestinian stuffed grape leaf rolls and a cucumber salad. “I am Jewish and went to Palestine to work with Muslim university students for one year,” Kaufman said. “I would often eat dinner with my students and their families, which is where I learned how to cook Palestinian food. I collected the grape leaves off mountain vines in Hokkaido.” The third offering for the night was a Filipino dish crafted by an Assabu ALT, Jeremy Blanco, whose mother is from the Philippines. He shared why he chose this dish, "I cooked Adobo because, although I am separated physically from my family, to be able to cook a dish passed on from generations, helps me reconnect with them.”
with Korean delicacies, japchae (stir-fried noodles) and final dish of the night was Jamaican curry cooked by a Mori ALT from Jamaica, Daneille O'Neil. When asked why this particular dish was chosen she jokingly said, “it was forced upon me. People wanted curry because they’ve tasted it before and loved it. While curry is pretty well known all over the world, no two curries are really alike.” Yoshie Couture, spouse of an ALT in Chitose, made the dessert. “Blueberry crumble with vanilla ice cream is one of my husband’s favorite sweets from back in Canada,” she said. Monbetsu ALT Adam Gentle devised seven inspiring cocktails and served them to the diners. He said, “The most popular drinks were the Super Wani-Chan and the Natsu Yasumi Sangria. The Wani Chan drink was made out of Midori Sour liqueur, which gave it a super bright, radioactive green color. I used lime juice, instead of maraschino cherries, to give it a bite; something I think Wani-chan would approve of. Then I added a shot of vodka or whiskey. For the Natsu Yasumi drink, I mixed red wine, apples and oranges, sugar and dark rum. I also added cranberry juice, a drink that people who aren't usually into hard alcohol tend to dig.” The event drew a good crowd of ALTs, friends of ALTs, and local townspeople. Tomomitsu Konko, a local, lauded the event saying, “all of the dishes were very interesting, especially the Jamaican curry. It was so spicy and had an Indian taste that I like. I hesitated to go at first but I wanted to change my mind to become more open through using this opportunity. I was impressed by how many young ALTs did their best to make the event successful.” For 22 years, HEC Camp has provided hundreds of Hokkaido students a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be immersed in English while experiencing the joys of a residential Western-style summer camp. HEC would like thank everyone who helps make this unique camp a reality. Photo courtesy of Jeremy Blanco
Leaving Japan Charles Harries Member | HAJET
FEBRUARY I’m not sure where to start with this. I’ve been in Japan for a little more than 3 and a half years. Every February for the past three years I’ve known what was going to come next. I had signed a piece of paper that said, more or less, Yes, I want to be in Japan for another year. But this year that paper said, No, I think I want to go home now. Of course it’s not necessarily home. When I signed the papers, I told my supervisor, “I’m sorry, this was a difficult decision.” She replied, “Four years is a long time.” I told a couple of Japanese friends the other day, while we were hiking up through a snowy forest. They had been talking about hiking in the summer, and said, “When will you leave Japan?” When I told them, they were surprised but pragmatic. “You can probably do river-climbing as early as late June or so.” Other than them and a number of other ALTs, I haven’t really broached the subject with anyone. When teachers ask if I’ll be around next year, I assume they’re talking about the school year, which changes over at the end of March. I tell them, “I’ll be around from March onwards.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth. I’m not sure why I don’t want to tell anyone. Maybe 4 years of being here has put the fear of disrupting social status quo into me. Maybe I’m afraid that if they know I’m going to be off, they’ll stop investing in me.
Photos courtesy of Charles Harries
APRIL
arrives and I have to clean my house.
The changeover of teachers came and went, and with it the temporary sort of forlorn quality that hangs about the hallways of schools where certain teachers used to be. But the Japanese school system makes allowances for the yearly shuffle, and as classes start up again that empty feeling is filled in by welcome parties and the giddy potential of meeting someone new. The teachers’ office feels like it’s vibrating slightly.
And I haven’t been looking for a job, either. It’s also easy to rationalize this away: companies won’t be hiring for September in April. Of course I have no evidence of this. The only other jobs I’ve worked were in the service industry, where you’re hired on Monday and working on Wednesday. That, and of course the JET Programme, where they make you apply almost a year in advance. But that’s not how the real world works, right?
And here I had sort of hooked my sense of future loneliness onto this current loneliness, the lonely feeling of the shuffle, and now that it’s been left behind, I’m in a kind of limbo. Just waiting out the last couple of months before it’s my turn. I know that that buzzing feeling will come to the Board of Education when the next ALT arrives. I don’t know if it makes me feel unwanted, disposable, or what. There’s a lot of weird feelings associated with leaving Japan. Of course you already know this. It’s so strange to feel this huge, frightening thing coming up on me, knowing that I called it forward, not wanting it to arrive. Like walking down the long stretch of a high diving board. The line has filled in behind me; there’s no choice but to jump. That is to say, I already made the choice to jump; now there’s nothing left but to do it. I’ve been in Japan for four years now. That’s a while. A while for me, anyway. But I’ve had almost no problem at all ignoring the huge change looming ahead. I don’t know how I’m doing this. It’s been almost laughably easy. I could probably do it right up to the end of the July, until maybe a week before my successor
Right? Because all this time, all these months, these four years, I’ve been fed this idea that the JET Programme is not the real world. And it hasn’t really felt like it, either. Japan is remarkably resistant to foreigner assimilation; whenever I’ve started to feel at home, someone stares too long or too hard at me while I’m doing my groceries, and I’m reminded that I’m different. Which is a very different thing from being unwanted. I wouldn’t say I feel unwanted. But... I can’t escape from the feeling that I’m not wanted for who I am but for what I represent. And that’s a tough little logical pickle. Only I am me. But plenty of other tall, white, Englishspeaking Canadians can be what I represent. Or what I feel I represent. Maybe that’s not fair. Maybe that’s not giving the system here enough credit. But then I remember that the gears are already in motion to replace me. I don’t know what to think.
MAY When I read over what I wrote, I sound
complacent and a little sad. Is that an accurate representation of how I feel, going into my last four months here? As in all things, the answer is probably yes and no. Sure, I feel all of these things, I feel replaceable, I feel complacent, I feel willfully futureagnostic. But at the same time I’m furiously trying to prepare for the future. I’m learning the Ruby programming language, learning web development, the Adobe Creative Suite; I am climbing all the mountains I said I would climb ‘next weekend’, visiting the sights I always said I would ‘next time I’m in the area’. It never occurs to you, all the years that you sign Yes, I want to stay another year, that it’s possible there won’t be a next time. I don’t remember the last time I was this productive. I wish I had known I would be leaving earlier. I wish that I had been this productive earlier. It’s so easy to say, ‘maybe next time’. So hard to say, ‘now.’ I’m totally aware that by the time I’ve settled down with whatever comes next, I’ll have forgotten this lesson. I never realized how fragrant Hokkaido was. Maybe it’s just my springtime senses. All of the trees bloomed this week; the mountains are ripe and green and begging to be climbed. I won’t see the leaves fall. It’s weird how the consciousness of your departure creeps into everyday stuff like that.
JUNE I look at a bunch of old pictures. Shots from
when I first arrived. In the pictures, I pose on the side of Meakan-dake, or at the Sapporo welcome party, or in front of a temple. I am surrounded by people that I don’t talk to anymore. Even the curly-haired, crow-footed me--I no longer recognize myself. I notice for the first time that I have developed wrinkles that do not disappear when I relax my face. I didn’t have those four years ago. I learned who my successor is going to be. I’ve been here long enough that I didn’t even really consider that I would have one, someday. His name is John. He seems like a really terrific fit for Yubetsu. I’m unfairly worried that he’s going to be better at my job that I am. The thrashing productivity of May has petered off to a trickle. I haven’t started packing. Not even the winter stuff. The walls are still covered with 4 years’ scribbled notes and clever quotes. I need to take it all down, take pictures of everything marginally important, and throw it away. Of course it’s hard to pack up your life in boxes and move it somewhere else. Everyone knows that. Putting stuff in boxes is easy, though. Taping them up and bringing them to the post office is easy. But buying the boxes is the hard part. It feels impossible to get started. Like trying to start a bike in a high gear. I’m afraid I don’t have enough torque for this. Worry that I’m not living up to some standard for accomplishment at this point is an everyday part of my life now. I carry my worry around like I carry around my water bottle and computer. I’m sleeping less. June passed a lot quicker than I thought it would.
Photos courtesy of Charles Harries
Image courtesy of Matt Feagley
Compiled by Jeremy Blanco HEC Coordinator | HAJET
O
n the second weekend of June, 25 ALTs took to the roads of Hokkaido on bicycles for 3 days. Road bikes, mama chari’s, leaking water packs, flat tires, couchsurfing, and camping were all apart of the adventure. Each rider began as apart of one of four teams. The team goal was to reach the Sapporo TV Tower in the form of a relay. Individually, each ALT would set out to surpass personal distance goals and more importantly, fundraise for the Hokkaido English Challenge (HEC). Founded in 1994, HEC continues to provide opportunities for Hokkaido students to immerse themselves in a fun and interactive English environment. This bike relay proved to be a reflection of the passion and care which Hokkaido ALTs have for our students’ education. You will now follow a vivid interwoven story of five different writers fused into the mind of “one.” Enjoy the journey. On bikes borrowed, bought, and inherited from a line of predecessors we geared up on a three day tourde-force, culminating in one shared goal: fundraise for the students, give them the chance to experience the international wonders of HEC camp. The Eastern, Northern, Southwest, and Central captains created routes that would reach over 300 km stretching from Kushiro, Wakkanai, Matsumae and a loop around Central Hokkaido. The final leg would reach Sapporo テレビターハ amidst the celebration of the famous Yosakoi Matsuri. This is going to be a heck of a ride. I can still picture the stern look on the vice principal’s face as she grilled me about the HEC fundraiser. After all my documents were examined and everything was finally approved, I distributed the flyers. Sweating profusely, I gave a practiced speech in Japanese at the morning meeting to 65 teachers and staff. The stressful preparation consumed my week, but it was worth it. I decided to cycle for HEC because I’ve directly seen the great effect it has on students that join. HEC kids are special. The time they spend at camp has a lasting impact. All six of my students who have gone still talk about the memories they have. With three more planning to attend camp this year, I felt my school
owed a little support to HEC and I would do my best to facilitate it. So I geared up. As I set out over the train tracks to a wide boulevard lined with fading white azaleas, a cold wind blew from the south, trying to push me down the entire way. I cycled past the airport, through fields, farms and forest. A herd of six thin deer had lined up across the road to stare at me. When I got out my phone for a photo, they bounded back into the trees. My passing even disturbed a large brown hawk that flapped out of the grass by the roadside. Coming into Hayakita, I met my first big hill and sweated my way up, counting the rhythm of my pedaling to keep from slowing down. I stopped briefly in town to take photos of my bike by the mural of star-eyed horses and indifferent snowmen. Somewhere in a town called Memuro, I faced yet another long, steep mountain. I started the climb with nerve and ambition. Sweat dripped off me and onto the road. I thought I could hear swelling orchestral music urging me on. I soon realized: I could no longer hear cars. I started to get really worried. I pulled over, stepped off my bike and poked my ear out. Cicadas! In Japanese, semi. I had been tuning them out for so long that I didn’t realize how loud they had gotten. [Some would refer to this as being in the “zone” or a state of “flow.”] Just then, a huge truck blew by, but I could only hear that sort of high-pitched whoosh. That is, I could barely hear the semi over the semi. You get a lot of puns like that when riding a bike long-distance. Physically moving burning legs up a mountain ascents were not our only challenges within our circadia orchestrated forests. In the midst of a steep climb, our team had our second flat tire. We were already half way up the hill. Another member raced back down from near the top to help. Good laughter and patience along with a little knowledge were the proper tools in fixing the puncture in order to tackle the hill once again. Around the bend however, a mental challenge awaited us - a bridge. Typically a bridge is no big deal right? But how
continues on next page
about if you have a fear of heights and there are massive diesel trucks whizzing by you with a limited shoulder lane coming out of a dark tunnel? Well what else could we do but help our team member embrace the struggle. She moved on like a boss and knocked out another few dozen km’s thereafter.
incessant wind pushed back at me the entire way. Finally the familiar streets of downtown Chitose appeared and I could meet the next rider when she arrived at the station. A group of curious young people watched us pull her bike out of its travel bag and assemble it in front of the taxi stand.
Wait, this mountain pass isn’t quite. While one teammates fear of heights was conquered, anxiety resurfaced for me in relation to a different matter. My thoughts: “I think she’s going to kill me…” See, what had happened was...in an on-the-fly decision, we rerouted to cut the distance by about 7 km so we could reach camp before sundown. This more direct route, to our chagrin, became an 11% grade uphill battle over the course of about 2 to 3 km. The eye that only a sister can give a brother did not just boil in my conscious, it seared a lasting memory of ‘you better hope the next section is better, or else.’ Luckily for everyone, awaiting us was a sunset view of Ezo Fuji, Mt. Yotei, near our campsite.
“Where are you going?” a taxi driver asked.
When it came time for me to stop at my point for the day I was battling fatigue from riding into a headwind for about an hour. I contacted a support car and realized that I had actually passed him about 20 minutes previously! So I went ahead and rode about 6 more kilometers before the support car could catch up. Pushing myself even that little more felt awesome. Throughout the weekend I would pass by fields of grazing horses, a circular race track and a herd of dairy cows that galloped alongside me for as far as they could, seeming eager to join my journey. The sun started shouldering out of the clouds. Heavy heads of long grass and red clovers batted at my ankles. When I finally reached Oiwake station, I stopped for a quick picture and snack break. I was halfway done, but the climb out of the rice paddies took the rest of my strength. The final stretch back to Chitose was south through strawberry fields filled with families. The
“Sapporo,” we answered. “That’s about 45 kilometers,” he warned us. “It will take 4 hours.” If only you knew how far we’ve come. 25 riders with the aid of a few volunteers would cycle a combined total of over 2,400 km’s in less than 72 hours. That number will increase when an injured rider sets out to complete his leg of the Eastern team’s section. Many of the riders were able to raise funds through sponsorships and will have raised approximately ¥480,000. This means for the entire year HEC will have fund raised approximately ¥1,200,000 with a few more smaller scale fundraising activities remaining. The main ones being: Tshirt sales and a postcard/video package at HEC Camp, and student’s parent donations following camp. These remaining fund raisers will lead us to well surpass our goal of raising ¥1.2 million for the year. For details on costs covered by HEC fundraisers see Table 1.1 and 1.2 in the appendix. 100% proceeds go to these costs. Hats off to every single person who has ever volunteered or supported this fantastic organization! Join the HEC team beyond volunteering and take on a role of responsibility, leadership and innovation. You’ve made it this far, it may be time for you to just “gear up.” For more information about HEC visit our website at hec.hajet.org. To learn more about the volunteer positions available contact HEC Coordinator Jeremy Blanco at hec@hajet.org.
Area Te am
Sean Slater Adam Gentle Jordan Frazier Michael Lohr Sam Schuna Emily Schuster Karisa Whelan
Te
m
am
Area Te a 央 道 Ellen Mariano m
To t a l : 7 3 5
k
Michelle Henderson Kristen Friedrich Loretto Cunningham Samantha Whitley Caroline Noel Monique Du Plessis Katelyn Mitchell
Te
am
m
北 道
k
To t a l : 4 2 1
Bike Relay Projected Funding Total: Approx. ￥480,000 2015-2016 Fundraiser Total for HEC: ￥1,221,913
km
Te
am
To t a l : 1 0 7 0
Area Te am
Ferfie Brownoff Miri Sheppard Fiona Dunton Charles Harris Nikolai Muth Kelsey Woodford
ea
T
Jeremy Blanco Kelsey Fast Paula Kaufman Ben Lee Alma Thrift Danielle Thomas
東 道
m
m
Area Te am 南 道
To t a l : 3 1 3
k
Photo courtesy of Jeremy Blanco
Photo courtesy of Shanti Rahim, 2016