October 16, 2023
Impact of Experience Abroad
My decision to go overseas was because my father, Dr. James Gilfert, was the first exchange professor between Ohio University and Chubu University (at that time, Chubu Institute of Technology). He went to Japan by himself from Sept 1973 to December 1973. We, the rest of the family (my mother Sara, myself, and my two brothers Ted and Charlie), joined him for his final month. He had written letters home about his initial loneliness and isolation, which prompted him to study Japanese language several hours per day. My reaction on landing at the airport was “Wow, I can’t read anything here! I’ve got to come back!” and “Wow, the people look homogeneous! I’ve got to come back!” On the drive back to Nagoya from Haneda (yes, he chose to drive rather than take the shinkansen), he kept us and himself awake by telling us various anecdotes of his life in Japan.
Our family hosted a Japanese student in the summer of 1974. She was an undergraduate student at Kinjo University in Aichi-ken. Harumi got involved in our busy family life, learned to ride a mini-bike, and helped paint the kitchen (that year’s summer project). Her presence in our lives only encouraged me in my ambition to return to Japan. I went to her wedding in Kyoto in 1984, and her family and ours have maintained our friendship to this day.
I went to Japan myself as an exchange student in the summer of 1976. I had a homestay in Okayama, near Hiroshima. The family had just returned to Japan from a couple of years in Massachusetts, so communication was not a problem. One of our family excursions was to the Hiroshima Peace Memorial. This was 1976, so foreigners were rare. As my homestay family and I walked through the museum exhibits, I noticed people staring at me. Parents pulled their children behind them, so the children could not see the foreigner. Our trip back home to Okayama in the car included some sobering discussions. I maintained my ambition to return to Japan.
I got a Bachelor’s in Education from Ohio University in 1979, and decided to apply to Chubu as an ESL teacher. The committee kindly looked at my application and told me gently, “We only hire faculty who have a Master’s degree or better.” Oh, I said. I enrolled in Ohio University’s School of Linguistics in 1980, completed the MA-Linguistics/ESL degree, and went back to the committee in 1982. Oh, they said. “You want the position enough to invest in this degree?” Yes, I assured them. I started at Chubu in September 1983, the next available opening.
This determination to succeed in my goal helped me through my first years of living abroad. Yes, it was lonely at first. But a Chubu administrator had the brilliant notion of assigning me a friend. Ms. Kasumi Horii, an office worker, met me every Wednesday, took me grocery shopping (explaining what I saw on the shelves), and then we returned to my apartment to cook dinner. Kasumi was already nearly bilingual. Her friends Masumi and Tomoko often accompanied us in the shopping and meals. Our conversations were mixed Japanese and English. As my Japanese got better, their English also became more fluent. After a year, Kasumi was needed more at home and the office, so our visits became less frequent. But I had gained confidence and familiarity with my neighborhood, Kasugai, and myself.
This confidence would prove to have long-lasting effects. In the middle 1980s, foreigners were still somewhat rare in Aichi-ken. I am female, blonde, with green eyes. I was certainly stared at as I walked down the streets or rode the train. Schoolboys would shout “I am a pen!” or “He is a girl!” at me as I waited for the bus to Chubu at Kasugai terminal. The meaning of these random remarks puzzled and concerned me, so I asked Kasumi. She explained that English classes in Japanese schools taught simple sentences such as “He is a boy” and “This is a pen.” The schoolboys were having fun with their lessons in a way that made sense to them. After I understood the boys’ remarks, I found them amusing. The broadening of my understanding in this and many other ways assisted me in the way I thought about the changes I was experiencing, in the way I acted and reacted, in my communication skills, and in my career and life.
My values began to encompass more Japanese values. I became more aware of the measures taken by Japanese society for the elderly (the beeps at crosswalks in addition to visual crossing signals, for instance). I became more aware of energy conservation, particularly with the heating or cooling of rooms but not hallways (in the U.S., central heating and cooling includes the entire building). In turn, I celebrated Western holidays and customs in my classrooms. At Chubu, I organized a Halloween party and costume parade for my class, and we went trick-or-treating at another teacher’s class. At another (Christian) university decades later, I also organized Christmas caroling of my classes to other classrooms.
I stayed at Chubu for three years, then left to accept a Fulbright scholarship to Malaysia in 1986. I returned to Japan in 1989, to a language school run by Kawai Juku. At that institution, I discovered the confidence to become an administrator, and learned something of the mystery of Japanese meetings. In my previous experience, meetings were places to discuss ideas and make decisions. At this institution, meetings were places to announce decisions made by higher administrators. Decisions announced in these meetings were not always understandable, or acceptable. I learned the value of nemawashi, to speak privately before meetings with colleagues and understand how and why decisions were made. As the administrator of my unit, I then passed on the decisions to the native English teachers I supervised. We teachers discussed the decisions, and decided which to protest, which to work to change, and which to accept. I strove to maintain communication channels among all sides, even when it was difficult. This practice was one which I maintained even after I left the language school.
By the time I retired from teaching in Japan in 2014, I had over 15 years of teaching experience, and at least half of those years were as unit administrator. My retirement was hastened by the 2013 death of my father, who had first piqued my interest in Japan. With him gone, I felt drawn by my Japanese-influenced values to return home to Athens and take care of my aging mother, now a widow and home alone. I learned the patience to listen before I spoke, to speak with confidence when I had something to say, and to be as inclusive as I could manage. My cross-cultural understanding increased with every job I took and every person with whom I interacted. I hope that I passed my learning, patience and understanding on to my colleagues and students.