Thursday, May 12, 2005
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
My Potluck Dinner
A friend recently said to me, “I’ve been reading your weblog lately. Wow. Don’t let anyone ever tell you that you live a boring life.”
I suppose that’s the illusion created by blogging. No one writes about the boring things that happen to them, and so when only the exciting things end up on the weblog it creates an impression that life is more exciting than it is.
Actually that being said, I suppose you could make the case that I do write some boring stuff on this weblog (this entry in particular comes to mind), but you know what I mean. I never write about the nights when I think to myself, “Man, I’m so bored. I watched the clock all day waiting for work to finish, and now that work is done I don’t know what to do with myself. I wish I had a TV. I must have read every book in this apartment twice now. Only a few more hours and I’ll be able to go to sleep. I wish it was tomorrow already.”
And therefore by the very nature of blogging, that you only write about the things you think are interesting enough to write about, you end up creating an impression of life as being more exciting than it actually is.
Or I don’t know, maybe some of you are smarter than I give you credit for. Maybe you’ve thought to yourself, “If he has nothing better to do than long blog entries about stuff that happened five years ago, than he must really have a lot of time on his hands.”
Truth be told, there have been a lot of slow, boring nights over here. There’s usually something going on during the weekends, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday night I study Japanese, but Monday and Tuesday are real killers. Usually nothing going on.
I think part of my problem is that I tend to sit around waiting for my phone to ring instead of making an effort to organize stuff myself. Monika always used to organize stuff on Monday night last year, and now that she’s gone, I thought rather than complain about how there was nothing to do, I should make an effort to be more proactive and organize stuff myself.
My first attempt last week was to get everyone together for bowling, which failed miserably after not one person was free to go bowling that night. And then I thought, “Ah, I need to give people a little more advanced notice.”
So I organized a potluck dinner for the following Monday. I was of course reluctant to host anything at my own place because it is in a state of perpetual mess, but I realized I couldn’t well host it at someone else’s place, so thought, “A week to clean should be plenty.” And of course I ended up waiting until a couple hours before the potluck to actually begin cleaning, and ended up just throwing everything in the closet to get it out of the way.
After my previous experience being able to recruit no one for bowling, I decided to invite as many people as I could to the potluck. My theory was that not everyone would come of course, but if I spread my net wide enough I’d get a decent turnout.
In the end only a handful of people showed up. I guess it doesn’t help that I hosted it on a Monday. All of my American friends told me they would be able to come, and then at the last minute called up and cancelled. My Japanese friends were somewhat more reliable. That’s the way it always seems to work out over here. So with the exception of one American, it was an all Japanese group.
Have you ever had the awkward situation of having a bunch of friends together who don’t know each other, and tried to facilitate conversation between them? Now take that, and add the fact that it’s in Japanese. Most of my Japanese guests didn’t know each other, and I was doing my best to facilitate conversation. “So, everyone, did you know Ken plays Judo?”
To make matters worse, the one American who showed up didn’t speak Japanese, so I felt like I had to keep switching languages to include him in the conversation. But then when we went into English, I knew some of the Japanese guests were lost.
I guess as the host, I felt it was my responsibility to make sure everyone was included in the conversation, but maybe I worry about these things too much.
I suppose that’s the illusion created by blogging. No one writes about the boring things that happen to them, and so when only the exciting things end up on the weblog it creates an impression that life is more exciting than it is.
Actually that being said, I suppose you could make the case that I do write some boring stuff on this weblog (this entry in particular comes to mind), but you know what I mean. I never write about the nights when I think to myself, “Man, I’m so bored. I watched the clock all day waiting for work to finish, and now that work is done I don’t know what to do with myself. I wish I had a TV. I must have read every book in this apartment twice now. Only a few more hours and I’ll be able to go to sleep. I wish it was tomorrow already.”
And therefore by the very nature of blogging, that you only write about the things you think are interesting enough to write about, you end up creating an impression of life as being more exciting than it actually is.
Or I don’t know, maybe some of you are smarter than I give you credit for. Maybe you’ve thought to yourself, “If he has nothing better to do than long blog entries about stuff that happened five years ago, than he must really have a lot of time on his hands.”
Truth be told, there have been a lot of slow, boring nights over here. There’s usually something going on during the weekends, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday night I study Japanese, but Monday and Tuesday are real killers. Usually nothing going on.
I think part of my problem is that I tend to sit around waiting for my phone to ring instead of making an effort to organize stuff myself. Monika always used to organize stuff on Monday night last year, and now that she’s gone, I thought rather than complain about how there was nothing to do, I should make an effort to be more proactive and organize stuff myself.
My first attempt last week was to get everyone together for bowling, which failed miserably after not one person was free to go bowling that night. And then I thought, “Ah, I need to give people a little more advanced notice.”
So I organized a potluck dinner for the following Monday. I was of course reluctant to host anything at my own place because it is in a state of perpetual mess, but I realized I couldn’t well host it at someone else’s place, so thought, “A week to clean should be plenty.” And of course I ended up waiting until a couple hours before the potluck to actually begin cleaning, and ended up just throwing everything in the closet to get it out of the way.
After my previous experience being able to recruit no one for bowling, I decided to invite as many people as I could to the potluck. My theory was that not everyone would come of course, but if I spread my net wide enough I’d get a decent turnout.
In the end only a handful of people showed up. I guess it doesn’t help that I hosted it on a Monday. All of my American friends told me they would be able to come, and then at the last minute called up and cancelled. My Japanese friends were somewhat more reliable. That’s the way it always seems to work out over here. So with the exception of one American, it was an all Japanese group.
Have you ever had the awkward situation of having a bunch of friends together who don’t know each other, and tried to facilitate conversation between them? Now take that, and add the fact that it’s in Japanese. Most of my Japanese guests didn’t know each other, and I was doing my best to facilitate conversation. “So, everyone, did you know Ken plays Judo?”
To make matters worse, the one American who showed up didn’t speak Japanese, so I felt like I had to keep switching languages to include him in the conversation. But then when we went into English, I knew some of the Japanese guests were lost.
I guess as the host, I felt it was my responsibility to make sure everyone was included in the conversation, but maybe I worry about these things too much.
Friday, May 06, 2005
Gifu Links
Found this well fooling around on the web. Here' s an interesting link to an article about the prefecture I live in, called "GIFU: A 'FORGOTTEN HIROSHIMA'".
I live near, but just outside of, Gifu city, but I travel into the city at least 3 or 4 times a week for Japanese class and social occassions. And I never had any idea about any of this stuff, until I stumbled upon it on the web. Amazaing thing the internet.
I live near, but just outside of, Gifu city, but I travel into the city at least 3 or 4 times a week for Japanese class and social occassions. And I never had any idea about any of this stuff, until I stumbled upon it on the web. Amazaing thing the internet.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Media Mouse Links
Media Mouse has put up a post detailing more concrete details for an anti-Bush protest. Anyone in West Michigan should definately check it out, and if nothing else printout and distribute the flyer.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Fire Festival
Over the golden week holidays my town of Godo held its annual fire festival, which is the biggest festival held in my town.
I first went to check the festival out during the afternoon, and found it almost exactly like the town festivals I used to go to back in Ajimu. Lots of booths selling Japanese food and over-priced children’s toys, and lots of people just hanging around. And, as at the Ajimu festivals, the only people there seemed to be the old people and my junior high school students.
On some level I really enjoy seeing my students outside of school. I get a little sick of them sometimes in the classroom, but seeing them outside of school is like meeting a co-worker outside of work. You may get sick of seeing your co-worker everyday at work, but if you meet them in a different setting you forget about work and just see the enjoyable side of them.
It’s just like that seeing a student outside of the classroom setting. All I see is a smiling familiar face, and it’s like we’re old friends, and sometimes I almost forget how much older than them I am.
At the same time though there is always the constant reminder in the back of my head that they are only junior high students, and I am their teacher, and if I hang out with them too much it will seem like I a bit too desperate for friends. I hung out with some of the boys for a bit, but when they decided to practice their English by asking me questions about my sex life, I took that as my cue to leave.
(Whenever they start asking me questions about sex, I have a flashback to my own days as a junior high school student, when some of my classmates used to embarrass me in the same way: ask me direct questions about sex and then watch me squirm with embarrassment as I wasn’t sure how to answer. It’s somewhat discouraging when my students do it to me now, because I have this feeling that nothing has changed even though I am ten years older and now the teacher. I wonder what it is about my personality that causes people to ask me embarrassing questions.)
I encountered a couple groups of girls on my way back, and they seemed overjoyed to see me, but I’m always cautious about hanging out with female students in social settings. I said a few awkward greetings and then left the festival.
The climax of the festival was at midnight when men carrying flaming straw bundles ran into a small river. The downtown streets were crowded with onlookers.
I came back at about 11:00 with a few friends, two other Americans and two Japanese, so I didn’t have to rely on my students for socialization.
But it was really impossible to get away from the students. As we walked down the road everyone was yelling out hello to me, and I was constantly turning my head to wave at this or that student. “You’re really a celebrity here,” my friends commented to me.
I passed a group of my former 9th grade students, now just entering high school, walking down the street and drinking beer. I wasn’t surprised that under-age drinking was taking place, but it did surprise me that they were being so blatant about it. The beer was right in their hands and there was absolutely no attempt made to conceal what they were doing. I don’t think that would have happened in Ajimu.
But there have been a number of things that I’ve observed in this new town that makes me think it is not quite as conservative as the countryside of Ajimu. There also were a lot of loud drunken arguments taking place in the street, and I don’t remember any of that at the festivals in Ajimu.
We stopped at a bridge overlooking the water, and I ran into two more of my former 9th grade students. They were both happy to see me, but one of them was visibly intoxicated. “It’s good to see you,” she blurted out. “We haven’t seen you since graduation.”
While she was saying this she was barely able to stand, and frequently supported by her friend, so I said what was obvious. “You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?”
She went through the motions of denying, and then gave a laugh, which seemed to admit it. “Come on,” she said, motioning me to follow. “I’ll show you where we’re all drinking.”
Her friend was horrified. “Don’t do that,” the friend said. “He’s a teacher.” But the other one kept motioning for me to follow, and so in the end I just shrugged my shoulders and followed. At the end of the bridge there was a group of former 9th grade students, most of whom I hadn’t seen since they graduated. They were happy to see me and very friendly. Actually a little too friendly, if you know what I mean, greeting me with overly friendly backslaps and red eyes. “So you’ve been drinking?” I said. It was obvious at this point, but it was a good conversation starter.
One of the boys listed off everything he had to drink that night. Then he stopped and they all waited for my response. “But you’re only 15,” I said.
“That’s right,” another one said, “so you can’t tell anyone.”
There were two options: one was to laugh it off, and the other was to get angry and try and scold them. But I wasn’t really a proper teacher, so I didn’t feel like it was my job to scold them. Instead, right after they had implored me to keep their drinking a secret, I grabbed one of them and yelled out, “Hey everyone, this kid is only 15 years old and he’s been drinking.”
The general noise of the crowd drowned out my yells. And even if someone had heard, I doubt they would have cared. Underage drinking is one of the less enforced laws in Japan. Nevertheless the students, who sensed they had more to lose than I did if this joke went sour, rushed forward to try and get me to be quiet. They were laughing at the same time though, and the tension was broken.
My friends came over and I introduced them to the students. They marveled at the exoticness of meeting more Americans, and in their wonder even initially mistook the Japanese girls with us as foreigners as well. Everyone got a good laugh over this. We talked for a while and then, as friendly as the students were, I decided it was time to retreat with my friends. There’s only so long I can talk to students without it becoming awkward.
While talking with my friends, I observed two men, well into middle-age, stumble upon my students. One of the middle aged men was quite drunk himself, and regarded the young girls with a drunkards delight, and immediately began chatting with them in a drunken way that barely concealed his leering.
This in itself I regarded as disgusting, but this was after all Japan. Because of the Japanese Lolita complex flirting with young girls seems to be more acceptable than it is in the West. And because Japan is a drinking culture, not only is public drunkenness acceptable, but anything done well drunk is usually laughed off and forgiven the next day. So if the incident had stopped there, I would have simply shrugged it off as Japan.
But the drunk, having I suppose a drunkards sense of time, stayed and talked and talked to the girls. His more sober friend, who really should have pulled him away, was instead more focused on yelling and threatening every student who bumped into him. In fact the friend, although middle aged, handled himself with such authority and aggressiveness that I thought he must be a business leader or a gang boss. Either that or, perhaps more likely, he was someone who had been shit upon all his life, and so enjoyed acting like Napoleon around 15 year old kids.
I was more and more distracted from talking to my friends as I tried to keep my eye on what was happening with the students. At first the girls seemed to be enjoying the attention, and I thought as long as they are handling him well, there didn’t seem to be a need to intervene. After a while, they seemed more and more disturbed by him, as he refused to leave, and was trying to get them on a time that they would meet him the next day. At this point it seemed like someone should do something.
I had written previously that sometimes in crisis we find that we are not the people we fantasize about being. I was again reminded of that thought now. During boring school assemblies I had sometimes zoned out and imagined the school being taken over by terrorist, at which point I would heroically save everyone. Now I was seized by a feeling of impotence as I wasn’t sure how to save my students against one drunk.
I thought of a million reasons why I shouldn’t do anything. The girls should be able to handle him themselves, and if they weren’t, the boys in their group should be able to help them out. As a foreigner I would only make the situation more awkward. If the native Japanese weren’t intervening, why should I? Besides, what did I know about Japanese customs? I was thinking of course as an American. I was thinking that public drunkenness by a grown man was disgraceful, and that a middle age man, drunk or sober, should in no circumstances shamelessly hit on girls just barely out of junior high school. But in Japan it probably happened all the time.
At any rate, what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t go over and hit the man just for talking to the girls. Even if I went over and said something like, “Okay, you’ve been talking to these girls long enough,” it would seem like I was overly protective of the students, and they themselves might not even appreciate it.
If only some sort of physical conflict would happen, then I would have an excuse for intervening on the students’ side. And actually, it seemed like this might be a possibility. Some of the boys in the group were becoming irritated at the drunk who wouldn’t leave their girls alone, and I could almost imagine them starting a confrontation. And then I could easily imagine the overly aggressive friend of the drunk grabbing and striking one of the students. And then I would have my excuse.
While I was debating these issues with myself, the girls made some excuse to leave and abruptly filed out. It took the drunk a while to realize what was going on, and then he said to his friend, “Where have all the girls gone? Come on, let’s go after them.”
He and his friend made an attempt to find the girls, but to my delight a crowd of fire marchers came through at that point, and the drunk was forced to stop to let them go through. By the time he was able to go forward again, the girls were long gone. He and his friend made an attempt to follow anyway, and once they had left the girls came back to their old spot.
As the evening went on, the students starting letting off fireworks near the river. They were loud fireworks and the area was crowded, so I think they hurt everyone’s ears. “Damn kids,” I muttered to my friends.
“They’re your students,” a friend said. “It’s your job to keep them in line.”
This was an obvious joke because I had absolutely no authority with these kids whatsoever. I jokingly pretended to address the students. “Okay, that’s it. If that happens one more time, I’m going to end this whole fire festival. I mean it, I’ll cancel the whole thing.”
I noticed that instead of paying attention to me the students were instead busy shielding their ears. I should have taken this as a warning, but I was too late to cover my ears as the loud sound of fireworks went off again.
A while later another drunken argument broke out again close by. A young man, a few years younger than me I think, probably a university student, was arguing with an older middle-aged man. Since they were yelling in fast Japanese, I didn’t catch all of what they were saying. The old man appeared to want to step forward and start a fight, but his wife was standing in front of him. Then the old man yelled out something, but his wife covered his mouth. The man tried to speak anyway, and turned his head from side to side trying to escape his wife’s hand.
The young man yelled out something about how all older people were worthless. He walked down the street a little way, then abruptly turned around to come back and yell out some last words. “You only think of yourselves. There are children here. Think about that!” Both the old man and the younger man were obviously intoxicated.
Despite the fact that we had witnessed several drunken arguments that night, this exchange seemed to particularly disturb the Japanese friends we were with. “That was really awful,” one Japanese friend said. “The younger man should never have talked to an old man like that.”
“What was the fight about,” I asked.
“The young man was saying all old people are not good for anything,” the Japanese friend said.
“Oh, I’d go along with that,” I said. Nobody laughed at this joke.
“The young man was upset that the older people weren’t stopping the children from setting off the fireworks,” my Japanese friend continued. “He said that it was the old people’s responsibility to supervise the children, and that they weren’t doing their job. He was right of course, but he should never have said it. It was very disrespectful of him.”
Shortly afterward the drunk and his friend found their way back to the 15-year-old girls. “There you are,” he said. “Where did you go? Don’t forget we’re meeting tomorrow at 4, right?”
The girls seemed unsure of how to respond to that. At this point one of the boys spoke up. “I don’t think they’ll be able to come,” he said. “But we” he referenced the other boys who were standing with him, “can meet you at 4 tomorrow if you want.”
It was a clever ploy, because if the drunk refused the invitation then he dropped all pretenses of just being a friendly older man, and was obviously interested in picking up younger girls. The drunk took the bait. “I don’t want to see you. I want to see the girls.”
“They don’t want to see you old man.” The boy took a drag of his cigarette, and blew the smoke out in the drunks face. This seemed at last like the conflict I had been waiting for. I edged my way towards the scene.
Because I was approaching from the back, the drunk and his friend couldn’t see me, but the students could, and they seemed to regard my presence with more nervousness than anything else. Perhaps they expected me to scold them for being disrespectful, or maybe just the presence of a teacher from school caused them to loose their boldness somewhat. The boy lowered his cigarette and was looking at me nervously out of the corner of his eyes.
“You shouldn’t be smoking,” the friend said angrily. Of course he shouldn’t have been, but since there was plenty of underage smoking and drinking going on, making an issue of it now seemed like just an excuse for a fight.
In true Japanese fashion, the boy bowed his head and apologized, but kept the cigarette in his hand. “Well drop the cigarette then,” the friend demanded. “Don’t apologize and keep the cigarette.” The friend then whacked at the cigarette with his cane. He didn’t succeed in putting it out, but he did send sparks from the lit end over the boys clothing.
The boy quickly patted himself to make sure all the sparks were out. “Hey, that’s dangerous,” the other students protested. The friend then hit the student’s hand with his cane, and when the boy yelled back at him, the friend raised his cane to strike harder. At this point I reached out and grabbed the friend’s wrist. “That’s dangerous,” I said, echoing what the students had been saying.
The man turned on me sharply, but the moment he saw me he just broke into a huge smile. “A foreigner!” he called out happily. “Where are you from?”
I guess this is another thing that happens only in Japan. Instantly he and the drunk seemed to have forgotten all about the students, and I was suddenly bombarded with questions about if I liked Japanese food, or could I use chopsticks. And instantly I was transformed into the stupid, grinning, eager to please foreigner. The drunk only turned back to the girls long enough to ask who I was. “That’s Joel,” the girls answered.
“Georji” the drunk called out delighted. The girls tried in vain to correct him, but he only seemed to be able to hear Georji. The girls said I had been their teacher at junior high school, and so the drunk and his friend seemed to regard me with a new level of respect. “We’re also elders in the community,” said the friend, “so if you’re a teacher here, it means we are like mentors to you.”
The students, who I think for a split second had regarded me as a hero, were now looking at me with disgust as they saw how well I was getting on with their antagonists. But there didn’t seem to be a point in making a conflict where none existed. Eventually the students quietly left. And then the friend left as well. And now I was left alone with the drunk, and it was I who needed someone to save me from this conversation.
“How old are you,” the drunk asked.
“27,” I answered for the 3rd time.
“I’m 57. That means I’m exactly 30 years older than you,” the drunk said for the 3rd time. I began to look to my friends for help. When the drunk was distracted, my friends invited me to come into the middle of their circle. The drunk left shortly after that.
I met the former 9th graders once more briefly before the night was over. At this point they were somewhat less energetic than they had been earlier. Some of them were throwing up in the corner. “I think some of us had too much to drink,” one admitted to me.
“That can happen sometimes,” I answered.
I first went to check the festival out during the afternoon, and found it almost exactly like the town festivals I used to go to back in Ajimu. Lots of booths selling Japanese food and over-priced children’s toys, and lots of people just hanging around. And, as at the Ajimu festivals, the only people there seemed to be the old people and my junior high school students.
On some level I really enjoy seeing my students outside of school. I get a little sick of them sometimes in the classroom, but seeing them outside of school is like meeting a co-worker outside of work. You may get sick of seeing your co-worker everyday at work, but if you meet them in a different setting you forget about work and just see the enjoyable side of them.
It’s just like that seeing a student outside of the classroom setting. All I see is a smiling familiar face, and it’s like we’re old friends, and sometimes I almost forget how much older than them I am.
At the same time though there is always the constant reminder in the back of my head that they are only junior high students, and I am their teacher, and if I hang out with them too much it will seem like I a bit too desperate for friends. I hung out with some of the boys for a bit, but when they decided to practice their English by asking me questions about my sex life, I took that as my cue to leave.
(Whenever they start asking me questions about sex, I have a flashback to my own days as a junior high school student, when some of my classmates used to embarrass me in the same way: ask me direct questions about sex and then watch me squirm with embarrassment as I wasn’t sure how to answer. It’s somewhat discouraging when my students do it to me now, because I have this feeling that nothing has changed even though I am ten years older and now the teacher. I wonder what it is about my personality that causes people to ask me embarrassing questions.)
I encountered a couple groups of girls on my way back, and they seemed overjoyed to see me, but I’m always cautious about hanging out with female students in social settings. I said a few awkward greetings and then left the festival.
The climax of the festival was at midnight when men carrying flaming straw bundles ran into a small river. The downtown streets were crowded with onlookers.
I came back at about 11:00 with a few friends, two other Americans and two Japanese, so I didn’t have to rely on my students for socialization.
But it was really impossible to get away from the students. As we walked down the road everyone was yelling out hello to me, and I was constantly turning my head to wave at this or that student. “You’re really a celebrity here,” my friends commented to me.
I passed a group of my former 9th grade students, now just entering high school, walking down the street and drinking beer. I wasn’t surprised that under-age drinking was taking place, but it did surprise me that they were being so blatant about it. The beer was right in their hands and there was absolutely no attempt made to conceal what they were doing. I don’t think that would have happened in Ajimu.
But there have been a number of things that I’ve observed in this new town that makes me think it is not quite as conservative as the countryside of Ajimu. There also were a lot of loud drunken arguments taking place in the street, and I don’t remember any of that at the festivals in Ajimu.
We stopped at a bridge overlooking the water, and I ran into two more of my former 9th grade students. They were both happy to see me, but one of them was visibly intoxicated. “It’s good to see you,” she blurted out. “We haven’t seen you since graduation.”
While she was saying this she was barely able to stand, and frequently supported by her friend, so I said what was obvious. “You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?”
She went through the motions of denying, and then gave a laugh, which seemed to admit it. “Come on,” she said, motioning me to follow. “I’ll show you where we’re all drinking.”
Her friend was horrified. “Don’t do that,” the friend said. “He’s a teacher.” But the other one kept motioning for me to follow, and so in the end I just shrugged my shoulders and followed. At the end of the bridge there was a group of former 9th grade students, most of whom I hadn’t seen since they graduated. They were happy to see me and very friendly. Actually a little too friendly, if you know what I mean, greeting me with overly friendly backslaps and red eyes. “So you’ve been drinking?” I said. It was obvious at this point, but it was a good conversation starter.
One of the boys listed off everything he had to drink that night. Then he stopped and they all waited for my response. “But you’re only 15,” I said.
“That’s right,” another one said, “so you can’t tell anyone.”
There were two options: one was to laugh it off, and the other was to get angry and try and scold them. But I wasn’t really a proper teacher, so I didn’t feel like it was my job to scold them. Instead, right after they had implored me to keep their drinking a secret, I grabbed one of them and yelled out, “Hey everyone, this kid is only 15 years old and he’s been drinking.”
The general noise of the crowd drowned out my yells. And even if someone had heard, I doubt they would have cared. Underage drinking is one of the less enforced laws in Japan. Nevertheless the students, who sensed they had more to lose than I did if this joke went sour, rushed forward to try and get me to be quiet. They were laughing at the same time though, and the tension was broken.
My friends came over and I introduced them to the students. They marveled at the exoticness of meeting more Americans, and in their wonder even initially mistook the Japanese girls with us as foreigners as well. Everyone got a good laugh over this. We talked for a while and then, as friendly as the students were, I decided it was time to retreat with my friends. There’s only so long I can talk to students without it becoming awkward.
While talking with my friends, I observed two men, well into middle-age, stumble upon my students. One of the middle aged men was quite drunk himself, and regarded the young girls with a drunkards delight, and immediately began chatting with them in a drunken way that barely concealed his leering.
This in itself I regarded as disgusting, but this was after all Japan. Because of the Japanese Lolita complex flirting with young girls seems to be more acceptable than it is in the West. And because Japan is a drinking culture, not only is public drunkenness acceptable, but anything done well drunk is usually laughed off and forgiven the next day. So if the incident had stopped there, I would have simply shrugged it off as Japan.
But the drunk, having I suppose a drunkards sense of time, stayed and talked and talked to the girls. His more sober friend, who really should have pulled him away, was instead more focused on yelling and threatening every student who bumped into him. In fact the friend, although middle aged, handled himself with such authority and aggressiveness that I thought he must be a business leader or a gang boss. Either that or, perhaps more likely, he was someone who had been shit upon all his life, and so enjoyed acting like Napoleon around 15 year old kids.
I was more and more distracted from talking to my friends as I tried to keep my eye on what was happening with the students. At first the girls seemed to be enjoying the attention, and I thought as long as they are handling him well, there didn’t seem to be a need to intervene. After a while, they seemed more and more disturbed by him, as he refused to leave, and was trying to get them on a time that they would meet him the next day. At this point it seemed like someone should do something.
I had written previously that sometimes in crisis we find that we are not the people we fantasize about being. I was again reminded of that thought now. During boring school assemblies I had sometimes zoned out and imagined the school being taken over by terrorist, at which point I would heroically save everyone. Now I was seized by a feeling of impotence as I wasn’t sure how to save my students against one drunk.
I thought of a million reasons why I shouldn’t do anything. The girls should be able to handle him themselves, and if they weren’t, the boys in their group should be able to help them out. As a foreigner I would only make the situation more awkward. If the native Japanese weren’t intervening, why should I? Besides, what did I know about Japanese customs? I was thinking of course as an American. I was thinking that public drunkenness by a grown man was disgraceful, and that a middle age man, drunk or sober, should in no circumstances shamelessly hit on girls just barely out of junior high school. But in Japan it probably happened all the time.
At any rate, what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t go over and hit the man just for talking to the girls. Even if I went over and said something like, “Okay, you’ve been talking to these girls long enough,” it would seem like I was overly protective of the students, and they themselves might not even appreciate it.
If only some sort of physical conflict would happen, then I would have an excuse for intervening on the students’ side. And actually, it seemed like this might be a possibility. Some of the boys in the group were becoming irritated at the drunk who wouldn’t leave their girls alone, and I could almost imagine them starting a confrontation. And then I could easily imagine the overly aggressive friend of the drunk grabbing and striking one of the students. And then I would have my excuse.
While I was debating these issues with myself, the girls made some excuse to leave and abruptly filed out. It took the drunk a while to realize what was going on, and then he said to his friend, “Where have all the girls gone? Come on, let’s go after them.”
He and his friend made an attempt to find the girls, but to my delight a crowd of fire marchers came through at that point, and the drunk was forced to stop to let them go through. By the time he was able to go forward again, the girls were long gone. He and his friend made an attempt to follow anyway, and once they had left the girls came back to their old spot.
As the evening went on, the students starting letting off fireworks near the river. They were loud fireworks and the area was crowded, so I think they hurt everyone’s ears. “Damn kids,” I muttered to my friends.
“They’re your students,” a friend said. “It’s your job to keep them in line.”
This was an obvious joke because I had absolutely no authority with these kids whatsoever. I jokingly pretended to address the students. “Okay, that’s it. If that happens one more time, I’m going to end this whole fire festival. I mean it, I’ll cancel the whole thing.”
I noticed that instead of paying attention to me the students were instead busy shielding their ears. I should have taken this as a warning, but I was too late to cover my ears as the loud sound of fireworks went off again.
A while later another drunken argument broke out again close by. A young man, a few years younger than me I think, probably a university student, was arguing with an older middle-aged man. Since they were yelling in fast Japanese, I didn’t catch all of what they were saying. The old man appeared to want to step forward and start a fight, but his wife was standing in front of him. Then the old man yelled out something, but his wife covered his mouth. The man tried to speak anyway, and turned his head from side to side trying to escape his wife’s hand.
The young man yelled out something about how all older people were worthless. He walked down the street a little way, then abruptly turned around to come back and yell out some last words. “You only think of yourselves. There are children here. Think about that!” Both the old man and the younger man were obviously intoxicated.
Despite the fact that we had witnessed several drunken arguments that night, this exchange seemed to particularly disturb the Japanese friends we were with. “That was really awful,” one Japanese friend said. “The younger man should never have talked to an old man like that.”
“What was the fight about,” I asked.
“The young man was saying all old people are not good for anything,” the Japanese friend said.
“Oh, I’d go along with that,” I said. Nobody laughed at this joke.
“The young man was upset that the older people weren’t stopping the children from setting off the fireworks,” my Japanese friend continued. “He said that it was the old people’s responsibility to supervise the children, and that they weren’t doing their job. He was right of course, but he should never have said it. It was very disrespectful of him.”
Shortly afterward the drunk and his friend found their way back to the 15-year-old girls. “There you are,” he said. “Where did you go? Don’t forget we’re meeting tomorrow at 4, right?”
The girls seemed unsure of how to respond to that. At this point one of the boys spoke up. “I don’t think they’ll be able to come,” he said. “But we” he referenced the other boys who were standing with him, “can meet you at 4 tomorrow if you want.”
It was a clever ploy, because if the drunk refused the invitation then he dropped all pretenses of just being a friendly older man, and was obviously interested in picking up younger girls. The drunk took the bait. “I don’t want to see you. I want to see the girls.”
“They don’t want to see you old man.” The boy took a drag of his cigarette, and blew the smoke out in the drunks face. This seemed at last like the conflict I had been waiting for. I edged my way towards the scene.
Because I was approaching from the back, the drunk and his friend couldn’t see me, but the students could, and they seemed to regard my presence with more nervousness than anything else. Perhaps they expected me to scold them for being disrespectful, or maybe just the presence of a teacher from school caused them to loose their boldness somewhat. The boy lowered his cigarette and was looking at me nervously out of the corner of his eyes.
“You shouldn’t be smoking,” the friend said angrily. Of course he shouldn’t have been, but since there was plenty of underage smoking and drinking going on, making an issue of it now seemed like just an excuse for a fight.
In true Japanese fashion, the boy bowed his head and apologized, but kept the cigarette in his hand. “Well drop the cigarette then,” the friend demanded. “Don’t apologize and keep the cigarette.” The friend then whacked at the cigarette with his cane. He didn’t succeed in putting it out, but he did send sparks from the lit end over the boys clothing.
The boy quickly patted himself to make sure all the sparks were out. “Hey, that’s dangerous,” the other students protested. The friend then hit the student’s hand with his cane, and when the boy yelled back at him, the friend raised his cane to strike harder. At this point I reached out and grabbed the friend’s wrist. “That’s dangerous,” I said, echoing what the students had been saying.
The man turned on me sharply, but the moment he saw me he just broke into a huge smile. “A foreigner!” he called out happily. “Where are you from?”
I guess this is another thing that happens only in Japan. Instantly he and the drunk seemed to have forgotten all about the students, and I was suddenly bombarded with questions about if I liked Japanese food, or could I use chopsticks. And instantly I was transformed into the stupid, grinning, eager to please foreigner. The drunk only turned back to the girls long enough to ask who I was. “That’s Joel,” the girls answered.
“Georji” the drunk called out delighted. The girls tried in vain to correct him, but he only seemed to be able to hear Georji. The girls said I had been their teacher at junior high school, and so the drunk and his friend seemed to regard me with a new level of respect. “We’re also elders in the community,” said the friend, “so if you’re a teacher here, it means we are like mentors to you.”
The students, who I think for a split second had regarded me as a hero, were now looking at me with disgust as they saw how well I was getting on with their antagonists. But there didn’t seem to be a point in making a conflict where none existed. Eventually the students quietly left. And then the friend left as well. And now I was left alone with the drunk, and it was I who needed someone to save me from this conversation.
“How old are you,” the drunk asked.
“27,” I answered for the 3rd time.
“I’m 57. That means I’m exactly 30 years older than you,” the drunk said for the 3rd time. I began to look to my friends for help. When the drunk was distracted, my friends invited me to come into the middle of their circle. The drunk left shortly after that.
I met the former 9th graders once more briefly before the night was over. At this point they were somewhat less energetic than they had been earlier. Some of them were throwing up in the corner. “I think some of us had too much to drink,” one admitted to me.
“That can happen sometimes,” I answered.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Ali G video
I guess a lot of you have already seen this already, and the fact that I'm just linking to it now makes me incredibly unhip.
...But, if you haven't seen this yet, be sure to check out this video by British comedian Ali G. Although Ali G is in reality Jewish himself, the premise of the piece is that he is pretending to be a Kazakhstan reporter, who goes into a redneck bar and America and sings an anti-semitic song to test the reaction. The reaction is as disturbing as it is funny.
...But, if you haven't seen this yet, be sure to check out this video by British comedian Ali G. Although Ali G is in reality Jewish himself, the premise of the piece is that he is pretending to be a Kazakhstan reporter, who goes into a redneck bar and America and sings an anti-semitic song to test the reaction. The reaction is as disturbing as it is funny.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
What is to be done?
As noted last post, there is a lot of discussion on the internet among Calvin alumni and students concerning Bush and his speaking at commencement ceremony.
The challenge is how to channel all this energy and discussion into some useful expression. If that is not done, any opposition against Bush will be drowned out by the usual flag waving and blind patriotism, which invariably accompanies a presidential visit.
It goes without saying that this is largely left up to this year’s graduating class, and from the looks of this website they seem to be off to a good start. But what can we as alumni do to offer support that would be of substance, rather than all talk?
I like this proposal of a written statement, but allow me to propose one step further. I propose following the old principal of “putting our money where our mouth is.” For the sake of simplicity, I’ll make my proposal first, and then defend it after.
I propose that for one year we not support Calvin financially, and instead take any money that we would have given to Calvin, and donate it to Christian groups that work for peace. And of course write a polite letter to Calvin informing them of this decision (they say posted hand written letters are more effective than e-mail).
Now actually I’m not in the habit of donating annually to Calvin, and I suspect most of you aren't either. But I’ll write them anyway and tell them that this year I will not even be considering making a donation. It’s all a matter of how phrasing. Also I did do a bit of Christmas shopping at their bookstore when I was in town last December, and I will not be doing that again this Christmas.
Whether this idea will catch anyone else’s imagination or not, I’m not sure. I could end up all alone on this, in which case it would not be the first time. But if this strikes you as a good idea, by all means post it on your own blog or website or alert a friend. You don’t need to call it “Joel Swagman's idea.” In fact, given my lack of credibility in some Calvin circles, maybe it’s best if you don’t mention me. You can just say this is something that has been proposed, or something that some people are doing.
My Defense
A handful of you might remember that during the Rehnquist affair I was, in private conversation, pushing for more action. In retrospect however I was wrong, and you were right. The extent of our opposition to Rehnquist, the Chimes articles, input in the panel discussion, and the ad in the Grand Rapids Press, was more than adequate given the situation.
With Bush the stakes are higher. There are now literally thousands of people dead, both American troops and Iraqi civilians, because of this man.
As mentioned in a previous post, this war is obviously part of the political divide in the country, and not everyone will see it as wrong. And if you’re not with me on this one, this post isn't the place to do the heavy lifting of trying to win you over.
But assuming that you are against the war, the remaining questions are
1). Does having Bush speak at Calvin’s Commencement imply the college’s tacit approval of the war?
And...
2). Is this worth making a fuss over?
If the world of blog is any indication, it would seem that most people are not buying Byker's explanation that Bush at Commencement is simply part of Calvin’s tradition of inviting speakers from various viewpoints. Yes, Jim Wallis will be speaking at Calvin. No, Jim Wallis will not be giving the commencement address.
I don’t want to repeat myself from previous posts any more than necessary, but there are definitely standards for the commencement speaker. Someone who is not a Christian would never be invited to speak at Commencement. They might be invited to another function, but they would not be invited to commencement.
And call me cynical, but I find it very hard to imagine someone who had opposed the war being invited to commencement. Can you imagine French President Chirac being invited to speak at Calvin’s commencement? Do you think the college would have the guts for that one? President Byker would say, “Of course we don’t all agree with President Chirac, but we as Calvin welcome a diverse range of opinions. Just last week we had some conservative author give a talk to sell his book.”
Or can you imagine Noam Chomsky? Or the above-mentioned Jim Wallis? Or any of the leading opponents of the war speaking at commencement?
Well, I could go on and on about this, but I think most of you are with me on this one.
So, is this worth making a fuss over? I think it is if we take seriously the biblical command to be peacemakers in the world. And if we look at all the dead people not just as numbers, but people each precious to God. And each one with families here on earth. If we donate money or support an institution which allows itself to be used by the war makers of this world, what does that say about our Christian commitment to peace?
If we recognize that Christian theology holds only two positions regarding war, the pacifist tradition and the just-war tradition, then shouldn't we as Christians be absolutely horrified by what has happened in Iraq? Is inviting the man who began this war to speak at commencement the appropriate Christian response? When there are so many Christian organizations that do take seriously God’s call to work for peace, why support an institution that is seduced by the power of men?
The challenge is how to channel all this energy and discussion into some useful expression. If that is not done, any opposition against Bush will be drowned out by the usual flag waving and blind patriotism, which invariably accompanies a presidential visit.
It goes without saying that this is largely left up to this year’s graduating class, and from the looks of this website they seem to be off to a good start. But what can we as alumni do to offer support that would be of substance, rather than all talk?
I like this proposal of a written statement, but allow me to propose one step further. I propose following the old principal of “putting our money where our mouth is.” For the sake of simplicity, I’ll make my proposal first, and then defend it after.
I propose that for one year we not support Calvin financially, and instead take any money that we would have given to Calvin, and donate it to Christian groups that work for peace. And of course write a polite letter to Calvin informing them of this decision (they say posted hand written letters are more effective than e-mail).
Now actually I’m not in the habit of donating annually to Calvin, and I suspect most of you aren't either. But I’ll write them anyway and tell them that this year I will not even be considering making a donation. It’s all a matter of how phrasing. Also I did do a bit of Christmas shopping at their bookstore when I was in town last December, and I will not be doing that again this Christmas.
Whether this idea will catch anyone else’s imagination or not, I’m not sure. I could end up all alone on this, in which case it would not be the first time. But if this strikes you as a good idea, by all means post it on your own blog or website or alert a friend. You don’t need to call it “Joel Swagman's idea.” In fact, given my lack of credibility in some Calvin circles, maybe it’s best if you don’t mention me. You can just say this is something that has been proposed, or something that some people are doing.
My Defense
A handful of you might remember that during the Rehnquist affair I was, in private conversation, pushing for more action. In retrospect however I was wrong, and you were right. The extent of our opposition to Rehnquist, the Chimes articles, input in the panel discussion, and the ad in the Grand Rapids Press, was more than adequate given the situation.
With Bush the stakes are higher. There are now literally thousands of people dead, both American troops and Iraqi civilians, because of this man.
As mentioned in a previous post, this war is obviously part of the political divide in the country, and not everyone will see it as wrong. And if you’re not with me on this one, this post isn't the place to do the heavy lifting of trying to win you over.
But assuming that you are against the war, the remaining questions are
1). Does having Bush speak at Calvin’s Commencement imply the college’s tacit approval of the war?
And...
2). Is this worth making a fuss over?
If the world of blog is any indication, it would seem that most people are not buying Byker's explanation that Bush at Commencement is simply part of Calvin’s tradition of inviting speakers from various viewpoints. Yes, Jim Wallis will be speaking at Calvin. No, Jim Wallis will not be giving the commencement address.
I don’t want to repeat myself from previous posts any more than necessary, but there are definitely standards for the commencement speaker. Someone who is not a Christian would never be invited to speak at Commencement. They might be invited to another function, but they would not be invited to commencement.
And call me cynical, but I find it very hard to imagine someone who had opposed the war being invited to commencement. Can you imagine French President Chirac being invited to speak at Calvin’s commencement? Do you think the college would have the guts for that one? President Byker would say, “Of course we don’t all agree with President Chirac, but we as Calvin welcome a diverse range of opinions. Just last week we had some conservative author give a talk to sell his book.”
Or can you imagine Noam Chomsky? Or the above-mentioned Jim Wallis? Or any of the leading opponents of the war speaking at commencement?
Well, I could go on and on about this, but I think most of you are with me on this one.
So, is this worth making a fuss over? I think it is if we take seriously the biblical command to be peacemakers in the world. And if we look at all the dead people not just as numbers, but people each precious to God. And each one with families here on earth. If we donate money or support an institution which allows itself to be used by the war makers of this world, what does that say about our Christian commitment to peace?
If we recognize that Christian theology holds only two positions regarding war, the pacifist tradition and the just-war tradition, then shouldn't we as Christians be absolutely horrified by what has happened in Iraq? Is inviting the man who began this war to speak at commencement the appropriate Christian response? When there are so many Christian organizations that do take seriously God’s call to work for peace, why support an institution that is seduced by the power of men?
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Links and....uh, more links
Always good reading from the Japan Times.
This article in the Japan Times on the 30th anniversary of the Vietnam war and the lessons that have apparently not been learned, has nothing to do with Japan, but I really found it interesting.
And then there is this article about a Japanese film documenting the Iraq war. I haven't seen the film, but the article itself is worth reading as it shows a different view of the "Iraqi liberation" then commonly depicted in the mainstream U.S. media. To quote briefly:
When the Americans arrive in Baghdad and are met not by cheering masses but by people yelling epithets, he captures on tape a lone woman screaming at the tanks in English: "You f***ing cowards hiding behind your big machines. Go to the hospitals and see all the children you have killed."
These are issues worth thinking about, especially as the man responsible for all those dead children is going to speaking at Calvin soon.
Speaking of which, a couple more quick thoughts on Bush coming to Calvin, throwing in some things I thought of since my last post.
1. This is somewhat the logical conclusion of what I stated in my previous post, but allow me to connect the dots.
The extent of our protest against Rehnquist, such as it was, was simply to point out the reasons he was objectionable as a speaker to us. Because these charges were not widely known, simply writing Chimes articles alerting people to the controversy was enough to cause a big stir.
This year's graduating class is obviously going to have to take things one step further, because simply stating that they don't approve of Bush is almost a given for any liberal or pacifist. I don't really know what the best thing to do is, but n order to make themselves heard above the racket is going to take some boldness and creativity, and I don't envy the task they have in front of them.
2. Another big difference between this and the Rehnquist affair is that the internet is obviously much more involved this time. I mean I'm writing on the internet, on the last post I linked to all of my friends who had written something, and a quick search of the internet will indicate just about every Calvin Alumni or student with a blog is writing about Bush's visit. And my impression is most of them aren't happy, but you can do your own survey I guess.
Of particular interest perhaps are:
This forum set up as: A place to dialogue and organize for those opposed to George W. Bush commandeering Calvin's 2005 Commencement. Anyone in the Grand Rapids area should check it out.
I don't know this guy, but according to his blog, the Democrats and Liberals at Calvin are discussing their protest options. That's always good to hear.
Also for those in the GR area: Media Mouse promises to post any protest information as they get a hold of it. A good site to keep your eye on.
Here's something from the other side of the fence-Someone upset by Bush speaking at Calvin, but not for the same reasons we are: Calvin College? Have you even heard of Calvin College? It's an evangelical liberal arts college in Michigan with a graduating class of 900. Every aspect of student life at Calvin is mired in the Christian Reform-based church. Perhaps, since Bush failed with Terri Schiavo and faith-based funding, this is his way to keep the GOP in the good graces of the evangelical right. It's hardly illegal for Bush to speak at Calvin, but it certainly bears notice. We guarantee you won't see him speak at Gratz College
Wonder if he knows how those of us from Calvin feel about it?
This article in the Japan Times on the 30th anniversary of the Vietnam war and the lessons that have apparently not been learned, has nothing to do with Japan, but I really found it interesting.
And then there is this article about a Japanese film documenting the Iraq war. I haven't seen the film, but the article itself is worth reading as it shows a different view of the "Iraqi liberation" then commonly depicted in the mainstream U.S. media. To quote briefly:
When the Americans arrive in Baghdad and are met not by cheering masses but by people yelling epithets, he captures on tape a lone woman screaming at the tanks in English: "You f***ing cowards hiding behind your big machines. Go to the hospitals and see all the children you have killed."
These are issues worth thinking about, especially as the man responsible for all those dead children is going to speaking at Calvin soon.
Speaking of which, a couple more quick thoughts on Bush coming to Calvin, throwing in some things I thought of since my last post.
1. This is somewhat the logical conclusion of what I stated in my previous post, but allow me to connect the dots.
The extent of our protest against Rehnquist, such as it was, was simply to point out the reasons he was objectionable as a speaker to us. Because these charges were not widely known, simply writing Chimes articles alerting people to the controversy was enough to cause a big stir.
This year's graduating class is obviously going to have to take things one step further, because simply stating that they don't approve of Bush is almost a given for any liberal or pacifist. I don't really know what the best thing to do is, but n order to make themselves heard above the racket is going to take some boldness and creativity, and I don't envy the task they have in front of them.
2. Another big difference between this and the Rehnquist affair is that the internet is obviously much more involved this time. I mean I'm writing on the internet, on the last post I linked to all of my friends who had written something, and a quick search of the internet will indicate just about every Calvin Alumni or student with a blog is writing about Bush's visit. And my impression is most of them aren't happy, but you can do your own survey I guess.
Of particular interest perhaps are:
This forum set up as: A place to dialogue and organize for those opposed to George W. Bush commandeering Calvin's 2005 Commencement. Anyone in the Grand Rapids area should check it out.
I don't know this guy, but according to his blog, the Democrats and Liberals at Calvin are discussing their protest options. That's always good to hear.
Also for those in the GR area: Media Mouse promises to post any protest information as they get a hold of it. A good site to keep your eye on.
Here's something from the other side of the fence-Someone upset by Bush speaking at Calvin, but not for the same reasons we are: Calvin College? Have you even heard of Calvin College? It's an evangelical liberal arts college in Michigan with a graduating class of 900. Every aspect of student life at Calvin is mired in the Christian Reform-based church. Perhaps, since Bush failed with Terri Schiavo and faith-based funding, this is his way to keep the GOP in the good graces of the evangelical right. It's hardly illegal for Bush to speak at Calvin, but it certainly bears notice. We guarantee you won't see him speak at Gratz College
Wonder if he knows how those of us from Calvin feel about it?
Saturday, April 23, 2005
George W. Bush and Me
Wow, is this dejavu or what?
If you're from Grand Rapids, or if you've been following any of these fellow bloggers, I'm sure you've already noticed that President Bush is going to speak at the Calvin College Commencement Ceremony this spring.
Hmmm...A controversial commencement speaker, known for his right wing views and the head of one of the 3 branches of government. What does this remind me of?
I've been doing a bit of reminiscing on this blog lately anyway, so this seems like it is the perfect launching point for me retell the story of my involvement in the Rehnquist affair. (I know, self indulgent. Those of you who have heard this all before might just want to skip to my analysis at the end.)
My fifth and final year at Calvin, the commencement speaker for graduation was William Rehnquist, Chief for the Supreme Court.
That was also the year Bush became President, after the controversial Supreme Court ruling. I went to Washington DC to protest the inauguration, riding an overnight bus with University of Michigan students. On the bus, and at the protest itself, I heard a lot of complaining about Rehnquist, and I began to wonder if he was someone I wanted speaking at my commencement ceremony.
Returning to Calvin I went to the library and tried to see what sort of information I could find on Rehnquist. And wow…absolutely shocking what I found. A consistent record of racism and ruling against minorities.
I ambushed my friends Bork and Buma in the snack shop and began talking excitedly about how we needed to write an article in Chimes about this. Chimes was the student newspaper, and Bork and Buma were the "Perspective" co-editor.
Bork and Buma took my information to the editor, Vanderklippe, and they talked it over, and then came back with their decisions. First of all they wanted to wait on it. If they ran the article too early, there was the fear that people would just forget about it by the time commencement actually came.
Secondly they wanted someone else to write it. Although I was still writing articles regularly for Chimes, I had technically finished at Calvin in December, and the article might have more weight if it was written by someone who was currently enrolled.
Also there was the concern that since I had been writing anti-Bush and anti-Republican articles all year, people might have begun to write me off as a partisan and not take seriously what I had to say.
I thought all of these points were fair enough, so we decided to wait on the article for a while, and then when spring came, I gave all my notes to Bork, and he wrote this article.
The article touched off a great deal of discussion at Calvin, and some people even began to talk about dis-inviting Rehnquist. Unfortunately because of the late date on which the article ran, realistically I don't think this was ever much of a possibility. If we had known how much people would react to the article, we would obviously have run it earlier in the year, but as they say, hindsight is 20/20.
The article also upset a lot of people in the administration. Apparently Klippe received a phone call from Calvin’s President saying that the article was poorly written, untrue and completely one-sided. Later Klippe and Bork were asked to meet with the Dean of student life to discuss the sources for the article. When it was revealed that I was the one who had researched the article, the invitation was extended to me to.
And, as I said to Bork, "I can't believe the president said your article was one sided. Of course it was one sided. Everything we ever write for Chimes is one sided. We write on the editorial page."
The sources for the article were a bit sketchy, since it was all based off of stuff I got on the internet. Which was how I researched all my articles. Chimes was a student newspaper with a small readership, and we held ourselves to a low standard in terms of fact checking. (Or maybe I should just speak for myself.)
Apparently the administration was upset that the article didn't cite its sources, but nothing we wrote in Chimes cites sources. In fact, if you look at a regular professional newspaper, how many editorials do you see carefully citing their sources for every fact they bring up?
Anyway, I spent the afternoon in the library, trying to back up everything written in the article with a hard source in a book. I was very pleased not only to find out that almost all of it checked out, but that I was able to find a whole lot more information. However I was not above having a little fun with Bork when we next met. "Good news," I said. "I was able to back up this part and this part, but this part and this part are going to be difficult to defend because, to be honest, I just made those parts up."
"What?" Bork said. "That's my name on that article!"
Klippe, Bork and I went to meet the Dean of student life, but to my surprise (and somewhat disappointment) she barely even brought up the subject of the sources for the article. Perhaps in the time since the angry phone calls had been made, the administration had done some fact checking of its own, and came to the same conclusion as us: most of it backs up.
Instead she just discussed the situation with us. "You realize it is impossible for us to invite a commencement speaker that would make everyone happy," she said. "If we had invited someone like Hillary Clinton, students from the other end of the spectrum would have been upset about that."
We tried to argue that this was not a matter of right-left dynamics, but that the charges of racism that we were making against Rehnquist were something that should disgust anyone regardless of their political affiliation. We went around the block a couple times on this one, and then the Dean moved on to another question.
"OK, I'll be honest with you, had we known everything that we know now, there's a good chance Rehnquist would never have been invited to speak at commencement. But now that it has already been done, and commencement is only two weeks away, what do you expect us to do about it?"
I argued that the administration should take the moral high road, and Rehnquist should be dis-invited. Klippe cut me off and said, "No, I don't agree with that. He should be invited to speak, but not at commencement. A different forum should be set up." I said I would be fine with that as well. But I don't think any of us seriously expected Rehnquist would actually be dis-invited at such notice.
The Dean was very polite to us the whole time, and at times I even got the sense of someone who sympathized privately with our position, but was just doing her job. Since talking was not my strong point, I had been somewhat worried she would just run over us, and I had been determined not to back down on anything before I even walked into her office. In retrospect I might have been a little too aggressive. Bork and Klippe were somewhat better spoken, and Klippe especially did not have any problem in cutting me off when he thought I had gone too far.
At the end of the meeting the Dean asked, almost in an after thought sort of way, for all my sources on Rehnquist, and I handed over my notes. Walking out of her office, I commented to Klippe and Bork that in the process of spending the afternoon in the library backing up the first article, I had found enough information to write a whole new article.
"Fine," said Klippe. "But I don't want it to be another 'Rehnquist equals Racism' article. We've already covered that. I want you to take it to the next step. If Rehnquist is a racist, then what should the college do about it?" So I wrote this article.
Later during the week we were in the Chimes office, and Buma asked if there was any more information we had on Rehnquist. I said I had a bunch more, but I had been asked to write an article with a different focus, so I had left it all out. "Could we write another article with that information?" Buma asked.
"Easily," I said. "But then this week's issue of Chimes would carry two editorials by me on the same subject." There was a brief debate about whether that was a bit of overkill or not. In the end the question was put back to me. "If you guys have the space to run the article, I don't mind writing it," I said. They had the space, so I wrote this article as well.
Other events happened on campus as well. There was a panel discussion about Rehnquist, consisting mostly of professors but Bork was one of the student representatives. There was an ad taken out in the Grand Rapids Press which stated that not everyone in the college supported Rehnquist's actions, and many students and professors signed their names. The Spark (Calvin alumni magazine) had an article on the controversy.
The Grand Rapids Press did a couple articles on the controversy, and Bork, Buma and I got our picture on the front page. And then that Saturday, an editorial appeared in the Grand Rapids Press criticizing us.
Unfortunately The Grand Rapids Press is not archived online, so I can't link to that editorial, but take my word, it was absolutely awful.
The editorial essential ran like this:
"I've been reading about the controversy at Calvin College, and how many students don't want Rehnquist to speak because he is supposedly a racist. But in the article that ran in this paper earlier in the week, no evidence of Rehnquist being a racist was given. Therefore I can only conclude that the students object to him simply because he is conservative. I remember the days when conservatives like William H. Buckley could speak at Calvin and everyone respected their right to free speech. But now even relatively conservative colleges like Calvin are filled with liberals who are intent upon shouting down anyone who disagrees with them."
Now come on. First of all it had been made very clear, in our articles, in the panel discussion, and in the ad in the Grand Rapids Press that:
1. We objected to Rehnquist based on his racist record, not on his conservative policies.
2. We didn't object to Rehnquist speaking on campus per se, just at his speaking at commencement.
Besides which in the articles we wrote for Chimes we laid out very clearly the reasons we thought he was racist. Now granted all of those points were not repeated in the Grand Rapids Press articles upon which this writer had based his editorial, but come on. I mean god forbid the guy actually takes the time to find out what our position is before writing an editorial attacking us. Remember this wasn't a "letter to the editor", but this was one of the full-length columns. I mean, how lazy do you have to be to write columns in the Grand Rapids Press. We went through the trouble of researching our articles, and we just wrote for a student newspaper. Hire me as a columnist for the GR Press, please.
Since the editorial attacked Buma by name, Buma called up to the Grand Rapids Press and asked for space to respond. They said OK, so he and I wrote up our response. But after saying they would give us space to respond, for one reason or another the Press never actually ran our response. Maybe it was because of the line, "Those of us who wrote articles in the Calvin College newspaper actually researched our position. It would be nice if the Grand Rapids Press held its writers to the same standard."
Because this was never cleared up, the "letters to the editor" page of the Grand Rapids Press was filled with letters complaining about the liberals at Calvin who refused to allow conservatives freedom of speech. This continued for a couple months until an article appeared by a Calvin professor who wrote clearly what our position had actually been.
Bush and Rehnquist: Comparison and contrast
Having Bush speak at commencement is obviously different than Rehnquist for a variety of reasons.
For one thing, the issue of Rehnquist's racism was not widely known initially. I didn't know about it before I started researching it. The readers of the Grand Rapids Press certainly didn't know about it. The administration said repeatedly that they had not known about it when they invited him, and the dean of student life even hinted to us that Rehnquist might not even have been invited in the first place had people been aware about his record.
As with Bush, no one can claim ignorance about this one. If this turns into a headache for Calvin, the administration cannot say, "We didn't know he would be such a controversial figure." Everyone is going into this with their eyes wide open.
Secondly the argument we made against Rehnquist were that his record of racism was a matter of concern for everyone, regardless of political affiliation. Although there was obviously some confusion about this in the larger Grand Rapids community, I think our arguments were fairly well understood at Calvin. Racism is something so terrible that everyone is against it. The only debate was whether our charges against Rehnquist were accurate or not, and once we had backed up our sources, the administration didn't have much of a leg to stand on.
I'd like to say that war, like racism, is something so terribly that every reasonable person is against it. But it appears we don't live in that world yet. When the Iraq war started, polls indicated 75% of the American public was in favor of the war, and it's a fair bet some of those people were at Calvin.
Although support has somewhat waned since then, in the political climate we live in support for the war has somewhat become a matter of party loyalty. And does that mean this war becomes just another political issue which we agree to disagree on? At any rate it would be hard to make an argument against Bush which could be accepted universally across the Calvin spectrum.
If I was still a student, I could almost imagine myself talking to the dean of student life again. "We can't have a commencement speaker that would make everyone happy. You might not like Bush, but imagine if we invited Hillary Clinton. The other half of the students would be upset. You might really hate innocent civilian casualties, but some people really hate nationalized health care."
The other argument the administration is already trying to make is that inviting Bush is simply a matter of Calvin's tradition of inviting a broad variety of speakers to the campus. In other words it's a free speech issue again. This is bullshit. Bork points this out in his post here. Imagine having Noam Chomsky doing the commencement speech.
Or imagine the head of the American Atheists speaking at commencement, and Calvin explaining to its alumni that this is just because Calvin welcomes a variety of opinions. Or imagine Bobby Seale, founder of the black panthers, speaking at commencement.
The commencement speaker reflects the values of the college, and Calvin is lying if they try and claim otherwise. Go look at the descriptions of past commencement speakers in Spark. How often do you see the words, "Although we don't really approve of what they've done, we decided to invite them to give the commencement speech to our graduates anyway"?
So what values does Bush have that the College is attracted to? Well, obviously he's the president of the United States, and the most powerful man in the world. To have Bush speak at a college the size of Calvin is a huge honor. That doesn't mean it's right.
Jim Wallis, in his book "God's Politics" writes, "Human beings do not handle power well. Of all people, religious leaders ought to know that best. Instead, religious leaders are often among the most easily corrupted by power, especially when they get close to political power. Doug Coe, the principal leader of the annual Presidential Prayer Breakfast in Washington, D.C., once told me that the best way to get religious leaders together was to invite them to a meeting with a powerful political leader, hence the sold-out successes of each year's prayer breakfast. He said most church leaders generally ignored Jesus's suggestion to take the humbler places at a banquet and wait until they are invited to come up higher. Instead they jostle for the best positions and places at the events where the powerful gather. It regularly amazes me how good religious folk get so excited about sharing an intimate breakfast with the president and three thousand other people."
Calvin has apparently decided to be seduced by the aura of power.
So what to do about all this? Obviously I'm not a student anymore, and the fight is left up to the new generation. Of course it is not realistic to try and get Bush uninvited. But Calvin President Byker says they want Bush to feel very welcome at Calvin. It would be a pity if Bush felt too welcome. People who start wars, who send thousands of US soldier to their deaths, and bomb civilians, should never be able to go anywhere without being reminded of what they have done. I hope there are some people at Calvin who will remind Bush.
If you're from Grand Rapids, or if you've been following any of these fellow bloggers, I'm sure you've already noticed that President Bush is going to speak at the Calvin College Commencement Ceremony this spring.
Hmmm...A controversial commencement speaker, known for his right wing views and the head of one of the 3 branches of government. What does this remind me of?
I've been doing a bit of reminiscing on this blog lately anyway, so this seems like it is the perfect launching point for me retell the story of my involvement in the Rehnquist affair. (I know, self indulgent. Those of you who have heard this all before might just want to skip to my analysis at the end.)
My fifth and final year at Calvin, the commencement speaker for graduation was William Rehnquist, Chief for the Supreme Court.
That was also the year Bush became President, after the controversial Supreme Court ruling. I went to Washington DC to protest the inauguration, riding an overnight bus with University of Michigan students. On the bus, and at the protest itself, I heard a lot of complaining about Rehnquist, and I began to wonder if he was someone I wanted speaking at my commencement ceremony.
Returning to Calvin I went to the library and tried to see what sort of information I could find on Rehnquist. And wow…absolutely shocking what I found. A consistent record of racism and ruling against minorities.
I ambushed my friends Bork and Buma in the snack shop and began talking excitedly about how we needed to write an article in Chimes about this. Chimes was the student newspaper, and Bork and Buma were the "Perspective" co-editor.
Bork and Buma took my information to the editor, Vanderklippe, and they talked it over, and then came back with their decisions. First of all they wanted to wait on it. If they ran the article too early, there was the fear that people would just forget about it by the time commencement actually came.
Secondly they wanted someone else to write it. Although I was still writing articles regularly for Chimes, I had technically finished at Calvin in December, and the article might have more weight if it was written by someone who was currently enrolled.
Also there was the concern that since I had been writing anti-Bush and anti-Republican articles all year, people might have begun to write me off as a partisan and not take seriously what I had to say.
I thought all of these points were fair enough, so we decided to wait on the article for a while, and then when spring came, I gave all my notes to Bork, and he wrote this article.
The article touched off a great deal of discussion at Calvin, and some people even began to talk about dis-inviting Rehnquist. Unfortunately because of the late date on which the article ran, realistically I don't think this was ever much of a possibility. If we had known how much people would react to the article, we would obviously have run it earlier in the year, but as they say, hindsight is 20/20.
The article also upset a lot of people in the administration. Apparently Klippe received a phone call from Calvin’s President saying that the article was poorly written, untrue and completely one-sided. Later Klippe and Bork were asked to meet with the Dean of student life to discuss the sources for the article. When it was revealed that I was the one who had researched the article, the invitation was extended to me to.
And, as I said to Bork, "I can't believe the president said your article was one sided. Of course it was one sided. Everything we ever write for Chimes is one sided. We write on the editorial page."
The sources for the article were a bit sketchy, since it was all based off of stuff I got on the internet. Which was how I researched all my articles. Chimes was a student newspaper with a small readership, and we held ourselves to a low standard in terms of fact checking. (Or maybe I should just speak for myself.)
Apparently the administration was upset that the article didn't cite its sources, but nothing we wrote in Chimes cites sources. In fact, if you look at a regular professional newspaper, how many editorials do you see carefully citing their sources for every fact they bring up?
Anyway, I spent the afternoon in the library, trying to back up everything written in the article with a hard source in a book. I was very pleased not only to find out that almost all of it checked out, but that I was able to find a whole lot more information. However I was not above having a little fun with Bork when we next met. "Good news," I said. "I was able to back up this part and this part, but this part and this part are going to be difficult to defend because, to be honest, I just made those parts up."
"What?" Bork said. "That's my name on that article!"
Klippe, Bork and I went to meet the Dean of student life, but to my surprise (and somewhat disappointment) she barely even brought up the subject of the sources for the article. Perhaps in the time since the angry phone calls had been made, the administration had done some fact checking of its own, and came to the same conclusion as us: most of it backs up.
Instead she just discussed the situation with us. "You realize it is impossible for us to invite a commencement speaker that would make everyone happy," she said. "If we had invited someone like Hillary Clinton, students from the other end of the spectrum would have been upset about that."
We tried to argue that this was not a matter of right-left dynamics, but that the charges of racism that we were making against Rehnquist were something that should disgust anyone regardless of their political affiliation. We went around the block a couple times on this one, and then the Dean moved on to another question.
"OK, I'll be honest with you, had we known everything that we know now, there's a good chance Rehnquist would never have been invited to speak at commencement. But now that it has already been done, and commencement is only two weeks away, what do you expect us to do about it?"
I argued that the administration should take the moral high road, and Rehnquist should be dis-invited. Klippe cut me off and said, "No, I don't agree with that. He should be invited to speak, but not at commencement. A different forum should be set up." I said I would be fine with that as well. But I don't think any of us seriously expected Rehnquist would actually be dis-invited at such notice.
The Dean was very polite to us the whole time, and at times I even got the sense of someone who sympathized privately with our position, but was just doing her job. Since talking was not my strong point, I had been somewhat worried she would just run over us, and I had been determined not to back down on anything before I even walked into her office. In retrospect I might have been a little too aggressive. Bork and Klippe were somewhat better spoken, and Klippe especially did not have any problem in cutting me off when he thought I had gone too far.
At the end of the meeting the Dean asked, almost in an after thought sort of way, for all my sources on Rehnquist, and I handed over my notes. Walking out of her office, I commented to Klippe and Bork that in the process of spending the afternoon in the library backing up the first article, I had found enough information to write a whole new article.
"Fine," said Klippe. "But I don't want it to be another 'Rehnquist equals Racism' article. We've already covered that. I want you to take it to the next step. If Rehnquist is a racist, then what should the college do about it?" So I wrote this article.
Later during the week we were in the Chimes office, and Buma asked if there was any more information we had on Rehnquist. I said I had a bunch more, but I had been asked to write an article with a different focus, so I had left it all out. "Could we write another article with that information?" Buma asked.
"Easily," I said. "But then this week's issue of Chimes would carry two editorials by me on the same subject." There was a brief debate about whether that was a bit of overkill or not. In the end the question was put back to me. "If you guys have the space to run the article, I don't mind writing it," I said. They had the space, so I wrote this article as well.
Other events happened on campus as well. There was a panel discussion about Rehnquist, consisting mostly of professors but Bork was one of the student representatives. There was an ad taken out in the Grand Rapids Press which stated that not everyone in the college supported Rehnquist's actions, and many students and professors signed their names. The Spark (Calvin alumni magazine) had an article on the controversy.
The Grand Rapids Press did a couple articles on the controversy, and Bork, Buma and I got our picture on the front page. And then that Saturday, an editorial appeared in the Grand Rapids Press criticizing us.
Unfortunately The Grand Rapids Press is not archived online, so I can't link to that editorial, but take my word, it was absolutely awful.
The editorial essential ran like this:
"I've been reading about the controversy at Calvin College, and how many students don't want Rehnquist to speak because he is supposedly a racist. But in the article that ran in this paper earlier in the week, no evidence of Rehnquist being a racist was given. Therefore I can only conclude that the students object to him simply because he is conservative. I remember the days when conservatives like William H. Buckley could speak at Calvin and everyone respected their right to free speech. But now even relatively conservative colleges like Calvin are filled with liberals who are intent upon shouting down anyone who disagrees with them."
Now come on. First of all it had been made very clear, in our articles, in the panel discussion, and in the ad in the Grand Rapids Press that:
1. We objected to Rehnquist based on his racist record, not on his conservative policies.
2. We didn't object to Rehnquist speaking on campus per se, just at his speaking at commencement.
Besides which in the articles we wrote for Chimes we laid out very clearly the reasons we thought he was racist. Now granted all of those points were not repeated in the Grand Rapids Press articles upon which this writer had based his editorial, but come on. I mean god forbid the guy actually takes the time to find out what our position is before writing an editorial attacking us. Remember this wasn't a "letter to the editor", but this was one of the full-length columns. I mean, how lazy do you have to be to write columns in the Grand Rapids Press. We went through the trouble of researching our articles, and we just wrote for a student newspaper. Hire me as a columnist for the GR Press, please.
Since the editorial attacked Buma by name, Buma called up to the Grand Rapids Press and asked for space to respond. They said OK, so he and I wrote up our response. But after saying they would give us space to respond, for one reason or another the Press never actually ran our response. Maybe it was because of the line, "Those of us who wrote articles in the Calvin College newspaper actually researched our position. It would be nice if the Grand Rapids Press held its writers to the same standard."
Because this was never cleared up, the "letters to the editor" page of the Grand Rapids Press was filled with letters complaining about the liberals at Calvin who refused to allow conservatives freedom of speech. This continued for a couple months until an article appeared by a Calvin professor who wrote clearly what our position had actually been.
Bush and Rehnquist: Comparison and contrast
Having Bush speak at commencement is obviously different than Rehnquist for a variety of reasons.
For one thing, the issue of Rehnquist's racism was not widely known initially. I didn't know about it before I started researching it. The readers of the Grand Rapids Press certainly didn't know about it. The administration said repeatedly that they had not known about it when they invited him, and the dean of student life even hinted to us that Rehnquist might not even have been invited in the first place had people been aware about his record.
As with Bush, no one can claim ignorance about this one. If this turns into a headache for Calvin, the administration cannot say, "We didn't know he would be such a controversial figure." Everyone is going into this with their eyes wide open.
Secondly the argument we made against Rehnquist were that his record of racism was a matter of concern for everyone, regardless of political affiliation. Although there was obviously some confusion about this in the larger Grand Rapids community, I think our arguments were fairly well understood at Calvin. Racism is something so terrible that everyone is against it. The only debate was whether our charges against Rehnquist were accurate or not, and once we had backed up our sources, the administration didn't have much of a leg to stand on.
I'd like to say that war, like racism, is something so terribly that every reasonable person is against it. But it appears we don't live in that world yet. When the Iraq war started, polls indicated 75% of the American public was in favor of the war, and it's a fair bet some of those people were at Calvin.
Although support has somewhat waned since then, in the political climate we live in support for the war has somewhat become a matter of party loyalty. And does that mean this war becomes just another political issue which we agree to disagree on? At any rate it would be hard to make an argument against Bush which could be accepted universally across the Calvin spectrum.
If I was still a student, I could almost imagine myself talking to the dean of student life again. "We can't have a commencement speaker that would make everyone happy. You might not like Bush, but imagine if we invited Hillary Clinton. The other half of the students would be upset. You might really hate innocent civilian casualties, but some people really hate nationalized health care."
The other argument the administration is already trying to make is that inviting Bush is simply a matter of Calvin's tradition of inviting a broad variety of speakers to the campus. In other words it's a free speech issue again. This is bullshit. Bork points this out in his post here. Imagine having Noam Chomsky doing the commencement speech.
Or imagine the head of the American Atheists speaking at commencement, and Calvin explaining to its alumni that this is just because Calvin welcomes a variety of opinions. Or imagine Bobby Seale, founder of the black panthers, speaking at commencement.
The commencement speaker reflects the values of the college, and Calvin is lying if they try and claim otherwise. Go look at the descriptions of past commencement speakers in Spark. How often do you see the words, "Although we don't really approve of what they've done, we decided to invite them to give the commencement speech to our graduates anyway"?
So what values does Bush have that the College is attracted to? Well, obviously he's the president of the United States, and the most powerful man in the world. To have Bush speak at a college the size of Calvin is a huge honor. That doesn't mean it's right.
Jim Wallis, in his book "God's Politics" writes, "Human beings do not handle power well. Of all people, religious leaders ought to know that best. Instead, religious leaders are often among the most easily corrupted by power, especially when they get close to political power. Doug Coe, the principal leader of the annual Presidential Prayer Breakfast in Washington, D.C., once told me that the best way to get religious leaders together was to invite them to a meeting with a powerful political leader, hence the sold-out successes of each year's prayer breakfast. He said most church leaders generally ignored Jesus's suggestion to take the humbler places at a banquet and wait until they are invited to come up higher. Instead they jostle for the best positions and places at the events where the powerful gather. It regularly amazes me how good religious folk get so excited about sharing an intimate breakfast with the president and three thousand other people."
Calvin has apparently decided to be seduced by the aura of power.
So what to do about all this? Obviously I'm not a student anymore, and the fight is left up to the new generation. Of course it is not realistic to try and get Bush uninvited. But Calvin President Byker says they want Bush to feel very welcome at Calvin. It would be a pity if Bush felt too welcome. People who start wars, who send thousands of US soldier to their deaths, and bomb civilians, should never be able to go anywhere without being reminded of what they have done. I hope there are some people at Calvin who will remind Bush.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Turning 27
So this Thursday I turned 27, which is a number that I find a little frightening.
Shoko, who’s about 8 months older than me, already turned 27 this fall, and at the time I told my friend, “Wow, I can’t believe I’m dating someone who’s 27.”
“You’re 26,” he said. “What’s the difference?”
“Because 27 officially means you are in your late 20s.” I did my best to explain. “Everyone thinks turning 25 is a big milestone, but it’s not really. 25 is only one year older than 24, and 24, 25, 26 are all in the mid-twenties. So when you turn 25, you’re only going from one mid-twenties number to another.
And 24 itself is somewhat of a transition number between early twenties and mid-twenties, so it doesn’t seem like a big deal when you hit 24. Then 25, 26 are both kind of mid-twenties. But then, wham! 27! And all of a sudden you realize you’re closer to 30 than you are to 20, closer to mid-age than to child hood.”
To which my friend replied, “Listen Joel, I’m almost 30, so shut up.”
Which I suppose will be the attitude of any older than me who is reading this. Nevertheless, it strikes me that no matter how far along we are in the age spectrum, all of us have a sense of “Oh my God, I never thought I’d actually get this old.” And so despite our relative age or youth, we all seem to find ourselves shocked at the age we’re at.
Just recently I overheard a younger Japanese friend complaining that she did not want to turn 20, and I remembered thinking the same thoughts myself at that age. I remember my freshman year at Calvin College going out with people in my dorm to celebrate someone’s 19th birthday. Having a spring birthday myself, I was always one of the younger ones in my grade, and I was still 18 at the time. But I remember one of the Sophomores saying, “You know what’s scary? On my next birthday I’m going to turn 20. Not 19, but 20.” And I realized that I myself was only a year and a half away from 20, but it seemed inconceivable that I would actually turn 20. And now 20 has come and gone a long time ago.
Although everyone knows that the laws of nature dictate they must age just like the rest of the world, I think because a large part of our identity is defined by our age, we can’t imagine growing old any more than we can imagine loosing our identity. On some level I never really believed I would turn 20, and it now seems unbelievable to be just a few years short of 30. Although I suppose I’m probably still too young to be worried about my age too much.
I’d be interested to hear if people my same age feel the same way, but recently I’ve begun to notice how many people are now younger than me. For instance, not the majority but a suprising amount of the parents of my elementary school students are younger than me. Mostly this is among the youngest students, but occasionally even as high as 4th or 5th grade. Now of course doing the math some of them must have been very young pregnancies, as young as 15 in some cases, but it still makes me feel very old when some of my fourth grade students say to me, “Oh, you’re only one year older than my mom.”
I’ve also noticed that a fair amount of people in the public spotlight, professional athletes, rock musicians, and teen idols, are all younger than me. This makes me feel very old as well.
Sometimes reading what other people my age or younger have accomplished makes me feel a bit depressed. The famous Paris Communards Raoul Rigault and Theophile Ferre were only 24 and 25 when they assumed control of security of the Paris Commune. Elisabeth Dmitrieff was only 20 when she was sent as Marx’s envoy to the Paris Commune, representing the International Workingmen’s Association. Obviously these are rather selective examples based on the books I’ve been reading the past couple weeks, but any section of history will yield similar results.
Jim Wallis, in his book “God’s Politics” records an incident in which a 23 year old American activist saved a whole crowd of Palestinians from being gun downed by the Israeli army, and I think to myself, “I’m 27, and how many lives have I saved?”
In fact, the extent of my accomplishments this far in life is pretty much, “I went to Japan.” That’s pretty much it. A bit depressing depending on who I compare myself to.
Shoko, who’s about 8 months older than me, already turned 27 this fall, and at the time I told my friend, “Wow, I can’t believe I’m dating someone who’s 27.”
“You’re 26,” he said. “What’s the difference?”
“Because 27 officially means you are in your late 20s.” I did my best to explain. “Everyone thinks turning 25 is a big milestone, but it’s not really. 25 is only one year older than 24, and 24, 25, 26 are all in the mid-twenties. So when you turn 25, you’re only going from one mid-twenties number to another.
And 24 itself is somewhat of a transition number between early twenties and mid-twenties, so it doesn’t seem like a big deal when you hit 24. Then 25, 26 are both kind of mid-twenties. But then, wham! 27! And all of a sudden you realize you’re closer to 30 than you are to 20, closer to mid-age than to child hood.”
To which my friend replied, “Listen Joel, I’m almost 30, so shut up.”
Which I suppose will be the attitude of any older than me who is reading this. Nevertheless, it strikes me that no matter how far along we are in the age spectrum, all of us have a sense of “Oh my God, I never thought I’d actually get this old.” And so despite our relative age or youth, we all seem to find ourselves shocked at the age we’re at.
Just recently I overheard a younger Japanese friend complaining that she did not want to turn 20, and I remembered thinking the same thoughts myself at that age. I remember my freshman year at Calvin College going out with people in my dorm to celebrate someone’s 19th birthday. Having a spring birthday myself, I was always one of the younger ones in my grade, and I was still 18 at the time. But I remember one of the Sophomores saying, “You know what’s scary? On my next birthday I’m going to turn 20. Not 19, but 20.” And I realized that I myself was only a year and a half away from 20, but it seemed inconceivable that I would actually turn 20. And now 20 has come and gone a long time ago.
Although everyone knows that the laws of nature dictate they must age just like the rest of the world, I think because a large part of our identity is defined by our age, we can’t imagine growing old any more than we can imagine loosing our identity. On some level I never really believed I would turn 20, and it now seems unbelievable to be just a few years short of 30. Although I suppose I’m probably still too young to be worried about my age too much.
I’d be interested to hear if people my same age feel the same way, but recently I’ve begun to notice how many people are now younger than me. For instance, not the majority but a suprising amount of the parents of my elementary school students are younger than me. Mostly this is among the youngest students, but occasionally even as high as 4th or 5th grade. Now of course doing the math some of them must have been very young pregnancies, as young as 15 in some cases, but it still makes me feel very old when some of my fourth grade students say to me, “Oh, you’re only one year older than my mom.”
I’ve also noticed that a fair amount of people in the public spotlight, professional athletes, rock musicians, and teen idols, are all younger than me. This makes me feel very old as well.
Sometimes reading what other people my age or younger have accomplished makes me feel a bit depressed. The famous Paris Communards Raoul Rigault and Theophile Ferre were only 24 and 25 when they assumed control of security of the Paris Commune. Elisabeth Dmitrieff was only 20 when she was sent as Marx’s envoy to the Paris Commune, representing the International Workingmen’s Association. Obviously these are rather selective examples based on the books I’ve been reading the past couple weeks, but any section of history will yield similar results.
Jim Wallis, in his book “God’s Politics” records an incident in which a 23 year old American activist saved a whole crowd of Palestinians from being gun downed by the Israeli army, and I think to myself, “I’m 27, and how many lives have I saved?”
In fact, the extent of my accomplishments this far in life is pretty much, “I went to Japan.” That’s pretty much it. A bit depressing depending on who I compare myself to.
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