Will Work For Candy

Apparently, it's illegal to disable the camera shutter sound on iPhones in Japan. Specifically Japan. Guess I better plan ahead and not be trying to write these at- what time is it? 11:52pm.

I'm going to write anyways because this is important business. And I have important things to tell you all about. Like how today, I got paid in candy to appear on Japanese television role-playing a business meeting with a Japanese banker.

This is the box the candies came in. I know it looks like an olive oil tin wrapped in a sardine label. Bear with me here.

See, candies! Would I ever lie to you?

See, AIU has a program, the Community Outreach Service (COS for short- don't worry, there are abbreviations for everything here, I will keep you informed). COS events are basically community service activities that range from helping bankers learn English (what I did), to playing with small Japanese children (apparently these ones fill up very quickly) to doing a one-night home-stay at a local farm. Usually, the participants get paid in some sort of coupon, ¥1,000 in bookstore credits is a fairly standard fare from what I've heard. But that only happens once you've acquired a work permit, which I cannot do until May. I'm not sure why, it has something to do with timing and ID cards and bureaucracy. Whatever the reason, in the mean time, they pay the unofficial volunteers in candy. I'm excited to see what other odd treats I can collect this way.

(The candies tasted like Ramune soda by the way- they were pretty delicious).

As far as schoolwork itself goes, I'll have a better report to give later on, but so far it's been a real mix. I have the one amazing class (Conference Interpretation) that I really hope I can keep taking, the slightly intimidating but very necessary and interesting-looking Reading Comprehension, and then the class that I fought for tooth and nail, Japanese 300.

I decorated all my workbooks with homemade rubber stamps and Moomin stickers.

What happened was that upon my arrival to Akita, I, along with all the other 88 incoming exchange students and a couple odd returning ones, took a Japanese placement test. I got a score on it that placed me somewhere between the 201 class and the 300 (this is the class jump, don't ask me why the numbers look so weird. It goes 101,102, 103, 201, 300, 305, 309, 400... etc. It makes no sense). Due to some misunderstandings and the stubbornness of both me and the teachers, I ended up having an hour-long sit-down meeting with three of them to discuss my fate. They wanted me in 201. I did not want me in 201. We had what you could call a conflict of interest.

After an hour or so of ineffectively trying to explain (in Japanese) my desire and confidence surrounding the mystical 300 level class, they had nearly convinced me to switch my sights to 201 simply to gain reprieve of this meeting. But were I to do so, I would also have to drop several other classes I was signed up for, classes I was very excited to take.

 Fortunately, just the day before, I'd been talking to some friends while one of them tried to convince the other that she was good enough to get into the class he was in, and that she should stand up to the teachers about it and fight her way in. She kept denying it, and he kept insisting that she could do it. He was very stubborn and emphatic on this point.

So, during this meeting, when I was about to reach my breaking point and give in to the pressures of these three Japanese teachers well-meaning me into a stupor, I began to hear his voice in the back of my head. It was just a little voice, cheering me on, telling me I could do it. But it was enough. I rallied myself, and I fought. I said I wanted to do 300. I just nodded when my adviser gave me his grim prediction for my future in the class. I didn't complain when they told me I'd be on probation, and if I didn't do spectacularly well the teacher would have leave to give me extra homework assignments. And when I left his office, despite my frayed nerves and quaking hands, I felt good. Very good. I'd stood up for myself. I'm not sure if I've ever really had the bravery to do that so fiercely before. 

On the last day of class, I think I'll take that friend out to dinner. He deserves some thanks.