Friday, October 12, 2007
An Email for Therapy
Sometimes I get so frustrated at work that I like to write snipity emails to my boss. Of course, I never send that version, because the message would most certainly be lost in choosing such a method, but I write anyway because it helps me feel like I'm expressing myself by not holding back. And a day later when I've calmed down I read what I wrote and see the valid points I made, and re-write the email so that the message will be heard.
One such example:
Do you know the expression "the left-hand doesn't know what the right-hand is doing?" I feel this expression accurately depicts our weekly class schedule.
Why are there three or four copies of the schedule every week? How can the schedule change in the middle of the day? and twice a day? How are we communicating these changes to our teachers, staff and students? (I feel like these are the kinds of questions we'll have to address in accreditation!) I'm going to guess your answer is "post a new schedule" which is good in theory, but practically this system is not working.
The problems with the schedule this week:
--Not enough teachers available to teach.
--Last minute changes and teachers/students not being aware of them. (Brian covering AAP for Mike on Thurs, Lu being pulled for office hours Wed night, Nick being pulled to work on computers)
--No office hours for Luciana when we KNOW she will need them.
--Andrew scheduled to teach while also having an all-day activity.
--Brian scheduled to take students on a trip and also teach, and also he's supposed to be off.
Here comes the "if I were in charge" portion of the email...
Pulling teachers from the schedule because they are not needed is simple. Adding teachers because the classroom is overflowing wreaks havoc. I would like to make a personal goal of making one schedule which anticipates needs of all students, teachers, and activities. One schedule that goes out the previous Friday, and doesn't not change dramatically from day to day, hour to hour.
I know this is probably not as easy as it sounds, but I think we should strive for this every week until we figure out a way to make it work consistantly.
Sierra Kenney
Student Affairs
Approach International Student Center
617-787-5401
617-787-4926 (fax)
skenney@approachusa.com
www.approachusa.com
...
That was the snipity email, NOT the revision!! Don't you love the "if I were in charge" part?
Actually, I keep hearing such good things at work. I've been told that by the end of the year we will have a restructuring at Approach and I'll most certainly be "moving up the ladder." I'm not sure exactly what my new position will entail, or what it will be called, but I like to muse that I will be Administrative Coordinator or Academic Coordinator.
My supervisor's position (currently Administrative Coordinator) is going to be divided and I'll be getting the other half. I'm not sure I'm ready for all that responsibility (managing three employees or the teaching staff and curriculum, depending on which I'm offered), but if they pay me well, I'm sure I'll find a way to accept the new responsibilities!
Which do I prefer? I'm leaning toward the administrative side because, simply I'm not sure I'm qualified enough to do the Academic side, and my superviser is planning to get pregnant next year and someone (who's patiently observed for a year) needs to fill her big shoes!
One such example:
Do you know the expression "the left-hand doesn't know what the right-hand is doing?" I feel this expression accurately depicts our weekly class schedule.
Why are there three or four copies of the schedule every week? How can the schedule change in the middle of the day? and twice a day? How are we communicating these changes to our teachers, staff and students? (I feel like these are the kinds of questions we'll have to address in accreditation!) I'm going to guess your answer is "post a new schedule" which is good in theory, but practically this system is not working.
The problems with the schedule this week:
--Not enough teachers available to teach.
--Last minute changes and teachers/students not being aware of them. (Brian covering AAP for Mike on Thurs, Lu being pulled for office hours Wed night, Nick being pulled to work on computers)
--No office hours for Luciana when we KNOW she will need them.
--Andrew scheduled to teach while also having an all-day activity.
--Brian scheduled to take students on a trip and also teach, and also he's supposed to be off.
Here comes the "if I were in charge" portion of the email...
Pulling teachers from the schedule because they are not needed is simple. Adding teachers because the classroom is overflowing wreaks havoc. I would like to make a personal goal of making one schedule which anticipates needs of all students, teachers, and activities. One schedule that goes out the previous Friday, and doesn't not change dramatically from day to day, hour to hour.
I know this is probably not as easy as it sounds, but I think we should strive for this every week until we figure out a way to make it work consistantly.
Sierra Kenney
Student Affairs
Approach International Student Center
617-787-5401
617-787-4926 (fax)
skenney@approachusa.com
www.approachusa.com
...
That was the snipity email, NOT the revision!! Don't you love the "if I were in charge" part?
Actually, I keep hearing such good things at work. I've been told that by the end of the year we will have a restructuring at Approach and I'll most certainly be "moving up the ladder." I'm not sure exactly what my new position will entail, or what it will be called, but I like to muse that I will be Administrative Coordinator or Academic Coordinator.
My supervisor's position (currently Administrative Coordinator) is going to be divided and I'll be getting the other half. I'm not sure I'm ready for all that responsibility (managing three employees or the teaching staff and curriculum, depending on which I'm offered), but if they pay me well, I'm sure I'll find a way to accept the new responsibilities!
Which do I prefer? I'm leaning toward the administrative side because, simply I'm not sure I'm qualified enough to do the Academic side, and my superviser is planning to get pregnant next year and someone (who's patiently observed for a year) needs to fill her big shoes!
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Acculturation Attitudes in Japan
Acculturation or adaptation is the continuous contact with a foreign culture that results in some change within oneself. Basically, it is the consequences of moving into another culture (either voluntarily as I did in Japan or involuntarily as in the case of refugees), or of another culture "moving in" (again, voluntarily as in the case of ethnic groups or involuntarily as in colonization of native peoples).
I'm reading an article on acculturation attitudes for class now and I started thinking of my own acculturation when I lived in Japan. I went to Japan with one very strong idea: BECOME JAPANESE. Although obviously I knew I would never actually become Japanese, I did try my hardest to immerse into Japanese culture by observing and imitating my hosts as closely as I thought possible. While I still found value in my own culture, I was uninterested in maintaining a strong sense of connection with it for the duration of my stay, which I knew was temporary. I rejected those things which were familiar to me and the people with whom I thought I would prevent me from having a "fully Japanese experience."
In retrospect, by cutting myself off from some of those things, I ultimately lost of a lot of great opportunities, but at the time I didn't see them as doors, rather as obstacles in my "quest for Japaneseness." My acculturation attitude on arrival would have been something between assimilation and integration. I wanted mainly to create and maintain relationships with Japanese people, while temporarily rejecting my own (defined as assimilation). Perhaps because I knew it would be a temporary visit in Japan, I never expected to fully assimilate into Japanese society (hence holding onto an partial attitude of integration), but I found the most value in casting aside my own culture and for a few years putting all my effort into relating to my hosts.
Good in theory, but sometime between the first and second year I realized that perhaps--shockingly--my hosts might not accept me in the way I was hoping or expecting them to. While I had never considered that I might not be allowed to assimilate and create relationships with Japanese I began to feel some separation. While it was not a personal choice to reject or avoid Japanese culture, I often felt in a way that I was forced to remain an outsider looking in. I would never say that I was openly excluded or discriminated against, because the Japanese are too polite for that, but I always felt the separation hanging over at least one area of my life, if not permeating throughout all of them at the same time. It's funny, once I realized it was there, I could never shake the feeling of separation. And the more unattainable assimilation became, the more I believed it was simply a matter of overcoming obstacles. I do love a good challenge!
Luckily, in my two years I have only a few memories of complete marginalization, where I had no interest in my own cultural identity and characteristics and considered relationships with Japanese to be of no value whatsoever. I had a pretty strong support system back in the US, and after I gave up my naive ideas of assimilation (probably only fully giving up the idea in the last few months I was there) and accepted the non-Japanese support system which was already surrounding me (other English-speakers who were my friends) I was able to find a happy balance between integration and separation. Even the partially limited relationships I created with Japanese were valuable and unique in their own right, and I never had to give up my own cultural identity or reject reminders of my culture to be able to benefit or appreciate both.
I think I owe a big apology to Catherine who was often the recipient of my rejection of Western culture, yet who put up with me throughout all my acculturation attitudes and became one of my best friends. Sometimes I feel really ashamed that I believed I needed to keep away from her to have a successful experience in Japan, and I admire that she never seemed to have such a naive idea of assimilation. From the outside, she seemed perfectly integrated for the two years we spent there. With the value of hindsight I, too, can see why that method was more effective in making and keeping long-term Western friendships than mine. I do not desire to have made more friends, but I do wish that I had treated some of those friends better while I was there.
...Can I attribute some of that to acculturative stress?!?!
I'm reading an article on acculturation attitudes for class now and I started thinking of my own acculturation when I lived in Japan. I went to Japan with one very strong idea: BECOME JAPANESE. Although obviously I knew I would never actually become Japanese, I did try my hardest to immerse into Japanese culture by observing and imitating my hosts as closely as I thought possible. While I still found value in my own culture, I was uninterested in maintaining a strong sense of connection with it for the duration of my stay, which I knew was temporary. I rejected those things which were familiar to me and the people with whom I thought I would prevent me from having a "fully Japanese experience."
In retrospect, by cutting myself off from some of those things, I ultimately lost of a lot of great opportunities, but at the time I didn't see them as doors, rather as obstacles in my "quest for Japaneseness." My acculturation attitude on arrival would have been something between assimilation and integration. I wanted mainly to create and maintain relationships with Japanese people, while temporarily rejecting my own (defined as assimilation). Perhaps because I knew it would be a temporary visit in Japan, I never expected to fully assimilate into Japanese society (hence holding onto an partial attitude of integration), but I found the most value in casting aside my own culture and for a few years putting all my effort into relating to my hosts.
Good in theory, but sometime between the first and second year I realized that perhaps--shockingly--my hosts might not accept me in the way I was hoping or expecting them to. While I had never considered that I might not be allowed to assimilate and create relationships with Japanese I began to feel some separation. While it was not a personal choice to reject or avoid Japanese culture, I often felt in a way that I was forced to remain an outsider looking in. I would never say that I was openly excluded or discriminated against, because the Japanese are too polite for that, but I always felt the separation hanging over at least one area of my life, if not permeating throughout all of them at the same time. It's funny, once I realized it was there, I could never shake the feeling of separation. And the more unattainable assimilation became, the more I believed it was simply a matter of overcoming obstacles. I do love a good challenge!
Luckily, in my two years I have only a few memories of complete marginalization, where I had no interest in my own cultural identity and characteristics and considered relationships with Japanese to be of no value whatsoever. I had a pretty strong support system back in the US, and after I gave up my naive ideas of assimilation (probably only fully giving up the idea in the last few months I was there) and accepted the non-Japanese support system which was already surrounding me (other English-speakers who were my friends) I was able to find a happy balance between integration and separation. Even the partially limited relationships I created with Japanese were valuable and unique in their own right, and I never had to give up my own cultural identity or reject reminders of my culture to be able to benefit or appreciate both.
I think I owe a big apology to Catherine who was often the recipient of my rejection of Western culture, yet who put up with me throughout all my acculturation attitudes and became one of my best friends. Sometimes I feel really ashamed that I believed I needed to keep away from her to have a successful experience in Japan, and I admire that she never seemed to have such a naive idea of assimilation. From the outside, she seemed perfectly integrated for the two years we spent there. With the value of hindsight I, too, can see why that method was more effective in making and keeping long-term Western friendships than mine. I do not desire to have made more friends, but I do wish that I had treated some of those friends better while I was there.
...Can I attribute some of that to acculturative stress?!?!
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Filling Up Silence
The last couple of guys I've dated have been frustrated with my silence. Whenever we have a "serious talk" I've taken to being silent for a long time before I speak. In fact, they get tired of the silence and try to make assumptions about what I'm thinking, and then my thoughts get all muddled up and I need more time to think before I can respond to this new topic. I hadn't even finished contemplating on the first one when they've moved on to another!
Before living in Japan I never had a boyfriend say I spoke too little---quite the contrary! I used to speak too much, without thinking first, regretting afterward all the nonsense I spoke! When reading about how often Asian cultures are more comfortable with silence than Western cultures I feel a little better about my silence. Understanding that it might be coming from my relatively mute two years in Japan. where a small greeting, silence and a lot of smiles was all that was exchanged between myself and another. Why do I have to feel bad for being silent for so long with these Western men? Can't they shut up for a minute and enjoy the silence, too?
Before living in Japan I never had a boyfriend say I spoke too little---quite the contrary! I used to speak too much, without thinking first, regretting afterward all the nonsense I spoke! When reading about how often Asian cultures are more comfortable with silence than Western cultures I feel a little better about my silence. Understanding that it might be coming from my relatively mute two years in Japan. where a small greeting, silence and a lot of smiles was all that was exchanged between myself and another. Why do I have to feel bad for being silent for so long with these Western men? Can't they shut up for a minute and enjoy the silence, too?
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Friendship and Authority
Friendship is an interesting concept that I have started to examine more closely, not just since taking this class, but since I moved to Boston and made a predominately international friend-base. Every day I spend eight hours with hundreds of ESL students from all over the world. Because my work requires me to not only interact superficially, but teach, mentor, befriend, advise and occasionally even exert authority over them, I have found that my idea of what friendship means is not the same for all cultures.
In the beginning I wanted everyone to like me. I tried hard to develop relationships outside of school and treat my students as my friends and equals. I did this not just because I wanted to be liked, but also because I wanted my students see me as a confidant and feel like they could trust me with their joys and happiness as well as their frustrations and problems. While I still try to do that, I realize that sometimes the meaning of friendship translates into a different meaning than I intended, and they have new expectations of me---as their friend.
For example, a became good friends with an older student named Talgat from Kazakhstan earlier this year. For a month, while I was between houses, I even rented a room in his house, living with his four roommates, also from Kazakhstan. I got to know him and the other roommates very well, and before long I was treated as a part of "the family." Although only a few of them were related in the American sense of the word (as in blood/marriage relations) we all called each other "cousin" or "older/younger sister."
Those ties are much deeper than I ever imagined. Even though I moved out over four months ago, I'm still in contact with everyone from the house, and Talgat regularly calls me to hang out. Last month when Talgat came to the office to clarify a school policy on concurrent enrollment, I had to tell Talgat that his case was a special situation and I would have to check with my supervisor before I could confirm what he was asking. I wasn't sure if he could get excused for another 3 hours of self-study every week because he was taking extra credits at an outside university. Before he left he said he wanted me to assure him that, "Everything would be alright."
Because the school policy said nothing about his special situation I had to tell him that I would be sure to ask my supervisor about his case and get back to him about the extra hours as soon as possible. He obviously didn't like that answer as he kept standing in front of my desk, waiting for me to tell him what he wanted to hear. It was so difficult to tell him that based on what WAS written in the student handbook what he was asking for made sense, I just didn't have the authority to confirm it immediately. He thought I was being very disagreeable and trying to make his life difficult. I thought he was being too insistent and asking me to overstep my own authority. How could I promise something I couldn't promise?
I did email my supervisor the same day and asked about Talgat's situation. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, my boss confirmed that the school policy did not allow for Talgat to take fewer hours of self-study. It's unfortunate that we couldn't give him what he was asking for, but thank goodness I hadn't assured him "everything would be alright."
That night Talgat called me and we had a 2-hour conversation on what happened in the office. I tried with all my might to see what happened from his point of view, and also spent a significant amount of time trying to justify to him why I had done what I had. In the end, I could see it through his eyes: Because of our friendship I was his advocate at the school and would somehow be able to "work everything out" under the table. In a large-power distance country such as Kazakhstan, a friend will do favors for a friend, and he really wasn't asking for much. From my point of view, I simply didn't have the authority to give him what he wanted, and of course, would do my best to convince my supervisor that he deserved this credit, but could not guarantee it.
In the end I had to give a comparative example of what I thought happened that day. I asked him if he ever had a job where he couldn't make all the decisions, but had a supervisor to answer to. I said if he were working in a bank and, as a customer, I came to him with a request, a lower interest rate on a particular loan or something, and he didn't have the authority to give it to me, but I kept insisting that he should, what would he do? Would he promise something he shouldn't be promising simply because I needed to hear the words, "Everything will be alright," before I left the bank? If his supervisor denied his request, what would that mean for our relationship?
He did manage to forgive me, although our relationship was a little tense the next week or so. I'm not sure if he just decided to let it go, or if he ever really did understand my position. I would like to think both of us came away from that experience understanding the other's culture better than before.
This experience has helped me make connections with other students, including some of the other men from that region of the world who probably share similar views on friendships. The Turkish students I have befriended now expect me to close my eyes when they are falling out of status, but NOT ignoring them is an essential part of my job and (the American in me says) I have to be fair and equal with all students.
Being a friend and a school authority can be extremely awkward. Let's say that I have learned my lesson, and have started putting a little distance between myself and my students. I'm finding a balance between friend and authority, and even adjusting my behaviors (still friendly, but distant) with students when I suspect there could be confusion.
In the beginning I wanted everyone to like me. I tried hard to develop relationships outside of school and treat my students as my friends and equals. I did this not just because I wanted to be liked, but also because I wanted my students see me as a confidant and feel like they could trust me with their joys and happiness as well as their frustrations and problems. While I still try to do that, I realize that sometimes the meaning of friendship translates into a different meaning than I intended, and they have new expectations of me---as their friend.
For example, a became good friends with an older student named Talgat from Kazakhstan earlier this year. For a month, while I was between houses, I even rented a room in his house, living with his four roommates, also from Kazakhstan. I got to know him and the other roommates very well, and before long I was treated as a part of "the family." Although only a few of them were related in the American sense of the word (as in blood/marriage relations) we all called each other "cousin" or "older/younger sister."
Those ties are much deeper than I ever imagined. Even though I moved out over four months ago, I'm still in contact with everyone from the house, and Talgat regularly calls me to hang out. Last month when Talgat came to the office to clarify a school policy on concurrent enrollment, I had to tell Talgat that his case was a special situation and I would have to check with my supervisor before I could confirm what he was asking. I wasn't sure if he could get excused for another 3 hours of self-study every week because he was taking extra credits at an outside university. Before he left he said he wanted me to assure him that, "Everything would be alright."
Because the school policy said nothing about his special situation I had to tell him that I would be sure to ask my supervisor about his case and get back to him about the extra hours as soon as possible. He obviously didn't like that answer as he kept standing in front of my desk, waiting for me to tell him what he wanted to hear. It was so difficult to tell him that based on what WAS written in the student handbook what he was asking for made sense, I just didn't have the authority to confirm it immediately. He thought I was being very disagreeable and trying to make his life difficult. I thought he was being too insistent and asking me to overstep my own authority. How could I promise something I couldn't promise?
I did email my supervisor the same day and asked about Talgat's situation. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, my boss confirmed that the school policy did not allow for Talgat to take fewer hours of self-study. It's unfortunate that we couldn't give him what he was asking for, but thank goodness I hadn't assured him "everything would be alright."
That night Talgat called me and we had a 2-hour conversation on what happened in the office. I tried with all my might to see what happened from his point of view, and also spent a significant amount of time trying to justify to him why I had done what I had. In the end, I could see it through his eyes: Because of our friendship I was his advocate at the school and would somehow be able to "work everything out" under the table. In a large-power distance country such as Kazakhstan, a friend will do favors for a friend, and he really wasn't asking for much. From my point of view, I simply didn't have the authority to give him what he wanted, and of course, would do my best to convince my supervisor that he deserved this credit, but could not guarantee it.
In the end I had to give a comparative example of what I thought happened that day. I asked him if he ever had a job where he couldn't make all the decisions, but had a supervisor to answer to. I said if he were working in a bank and, as a customer, I came to him with a request, a lower interest rate on a particular loan or something, and he didn't have the authority to give it to me, but I kept insisting that he should, what would he do? Would he promise something he shouldn't be promising simply because I needed to hear the words, "Everything will be alright," before I left the bank? If his supervisor denied his request, what would that mean for our relationship?
He did manage to forgive me, although our relationship was a little tense the next week or so. I'm not sure if he just decided to let it go, or if he ever really did understand my position. I would like to think both of us came away from that experience understanding the other's culture better than before.
This experience has helped me make connections with other students, including some of the other men from that region of the world who probably share similar views on friendships. The Turkish students I have befriended now expect me to close my eyes when they are falling out of status, but NOT ignoring them is an essential part of my job and (the American in me says) I have to be fair and equal with all students.
Being a friend and a school authority can be extremely awkward. Let's say that I have learned my lesson, and have started putting a little distance between myself and my students. I'm finding a balance between friend and authority, and even adjusting my behaviors (still friendly, but distant) with students when I suspect there could be confusion.
