Here are the students all marching onto the arena with the flags at the start. You have to laugh at all the pomp and ceremony and precision marching. Who was it who claimed that the post-war pacifist constitution got rid of Japan’s militaristic leanings? I have my doubts.

The sports day had lots of races and relays, a good old-fashioned tug-of-war between parents and their kids, which the kids inevitably won because the teachers joined in on the kids’ end, and other wacky events for the locals involving oldie-friendly activities such as putting the ball through the croquette hoop, kicking the unpredictable rugby ball along the ground and bowling over ninepins with a soccer ball.

Then the kids put on a display called “Stunts” which involved a variety of precision moves such as this one:

And my personal favourite, the Sandy Bottom:

There were various sorts of acrobatics, like this:

And this:

And of course, humid pyramids:

I took the opportunity while all the festivities were in progress to take a look at the pool, which is on the roof of a three-storey building. This is what the arena looked like from the rooftop:

And this is what the pool looks like. Never mind the green water, the swimming season is over until next year, but doesn’t it look like you’re on top of the world? Like one of those horizon pools that rich people have. Maybe the photo doesn’t do it justice, but that’s what it felt like to me when I was up there.

And this is the rather excellent view over the pool wall:

Incidentally, the bottom third of every single window in every single classroom is frosted over to prevent the students from admiring this very view. Presumably the authorities feel that it might Distract Them from their Learning. Isn’t that just lovely?

But I digress. Back to the Sports Day.

It was a monstrously hot day. As with last year, summer has refused to start going away at the end of August like it’s supposed to do, and for some reason we were treated to an especially brutal burst of heat on this very weekend. The Sports Day was conducted right in the heat of the day and the kids were out in the middle of it with no hats right through the 20 minutes of opening ceremony and endless speeches, the warm-up stretching, the Stunts display, the gruelling races, the warm-down, and finally the closing ceremony and endless speeches, which were also on track for about 20 minutes except that half-way through a number of students started collapsing from the heat. When the teachers carted the first one off at the back, nothing much happened. Eleni and I could see the poor thing being given water and fanned furiously by some kind souls in a tent. Then another one fell over right at the front, in full view of the principal, and by the time it got to four students down, all of a sudden the teachers started to panic. The ending was cut short, the AP was out shouting “everybody inside for a drinks break!” and even after we’d all packed up and gone home we could hear the ambulances racing up the hill. Ruby reported that three of them were taken to hospital.

Now this type of stuff is on the national news with frightening regularity. Including last year, I reckon I’ve seen three or four “students collapse from heatstroke and taken to hospital” reports, and I hardly ever watch TV. So what has the school done to address the problem?

Funny you should ask.

Back in July, about half-way through summer, Ruby brought home an important-looking notice with the grand title, Heatstroke Prevention Strategy. And what exactly was the Heatstroke Prevention Strategy?

A white baseball cap. Which the school permits you to buy for ¥630, although you don’t have to buy it if you don’t feel like it, and even if you do buy it the school won’t make you wear it, and anyway most times you aren’t allowed to wear it for one reason or another, and it doesn’t cover your ears or neck so it’s of minimal benefit. But the very notion of allowing students to don a cap in certain situations represents a massive shift in ideology, partly because of the prevailing Japanese orthodoxy about toughening kids up (hence: no heaters in winter unless the temperature falls below 10°C; no water breaks during PE classes in summer; have to take all your books to school in the morning and back home at night, etc. etc. etc.) and partly because Ruby’s school is particularly strict, or backward, or just plain stupid depending on your point of view. (I’ll let you be the judge: further background reading can be found this, this, this and this.)

So this latest incident only served to further intensify my contempt for the Mihara No. 4 Junior High School, if that were possible. There is a back story to all of this, of course, concerning my ongoing battle since last summer to convince the school to make the monumental concession of allowing the kids drinks breaks during PE classes in summer (read about it here).

I wonder if the school will get rapped over the knuckles for failing to exercise its duty of care to pupils on the Sports Day. Or will it simply be dismissed as all part of the glorious toughening up process? I’m tempted to ring them up and say “hey guys, how about that Heatstroke Prevention Strategy! Worked a treat didn’t it?”, but I think upon mature reflection that it would be altogether easier if I just went back to Australia and left them to their own devices.

And it’s just as well that Ruby managed to stay upright the entire way through, despite being in about four different races, one of which involved lugging a 10 kg sack around the track, on a 40°+ day* for heaven’s sake, because if she’d keeled over too then no doubt I would have been exceptionally angry and no doubt it would have been highly embarrassing all round.

* Official temp was 33°C, but humidity adds around 10°C according to the “Feels Like” weather report.

This was, of course, the formidable Swimming Rules for Summer edict. Issuing a new set of Rules before the start of every holiday period seems to be standard procedure at the school, which is clearly unable to reconcile itself with the notion of the students being out of its clutches for longer than two days at a time and attempts to compensate by churning out these absurd documents (read all about last year’s Summer Rules here).

The Swimming Rules pilot (for I realise now that it is obviously the basis of a pilot script for a hilarious high-school half-hour sitcom, possibly including song and dance numbers) begins with the premise that students are not actually allowed to begin swimming at the local beach until Friday 8 July, six days after the official beach opening ceremony. Given that I took the kids down to the beach last Saturday, this means that once again we have unwittingly broken the school rules by Swimming Out of Season. Interestingly, the Swimming Rules document is itself dated 8 July, which means that this new prohibition has been retrospectively backdated — you go swimming, then a week later they tell you that you weren’t allowed to. How I’d love to take this one up with the Board of Education, I’m sure I’d have a strong case.

Then we get into the nitty gritty of the Swimming Rules, such as the point-by-point procedure for entering the water: first go in only as far as your knees, then splash your head and torso with seawater (not fresh water by the way, just to clarify things), and finally, when you are suitably wet all over, proceed slowly and methodically to wade in as far as your torso. The last point is my favourite: under no circumstances should you dive or otherwise rush into the water, since you could hurt yourself on something (fair enough — Felix did that just last week) or even… wait for it… have a heart attack!

I am not making this up.

The Swimming Rules go on further, for a whole two pages in fact, with detailed instructions about sticking to accredited beaches (Interesting Related Fact: should you go interstate or even overseas on a family trip, you must obtain the school’s permission to swim at any beaches you find there), swimming only between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m., performing warm-up exercises before entering the water, taking a break every 20 – 30 minutes (and here it handily adds, “Don’t swim until your lips turn purple”), washing thoroughly in fresh water afterward, being sure to inform your family members when you arrive back home, etc etc etc.

It’s all a bit sad really. I had imagined that immersing ourselves in another culture for a couple of years would teach us tolerance, but I can feel myself becoming increasingly intolerant, at least when it comes to the schools here. You have to laugh at some of the ridiculous stories that Ruby brings home. As a good middle-class parent I would normally be trying to instil in my children a sense of respect for the institutions of society, including schools, but it’s reached the point where I’m telling Ruby just to follow her conscience rather than doing what she’s told.

As for the education system in general, I just can’t get my head around it. Most people we speak to, including Felix’s wonderful Grade 5 teacher Mrs. Hara, can see the alarming problems in an education system that’s barely changed since the end of the war, and I know there’s a fair bit of support for change among the general public. So why is it still like this? Why do they put up with it? They say you get the politicians you deserve, and I think the same applies to schools. (After all, the education system is run by politicians.) Presumably this says something about the Japanese, though I’m not sure quite what that is.

I often see the Grade 6 kids at Felix’s school and feel so sorry for what they’re about to face at high school. But then again, the kids themselves probably aren’t too bothered; they know what they’re in for, and they might complain it when they get there but then, kids all over the world complain about school. Perhaps it’s only people like me, who have direct experience of two different systems, who feel so strongly about it. And who cares what I think anyway?

In any case, right now the locals too busy trying to rebuild their country and avoid power blackouts and radiation poisoning to worry about fixing the education system. And anyway, there’s less than a week to go until the summer holidays and then, as I tell Ruby, only about three months left of school after that. We plan to pull her out in early December for a well-earned break before we pack up and head home. Unless, of course, she’s keen to stick around long enough to grab a copy of the Winter Holidays rules.

PS: Ruby informs me that the boys in the baseball team are not allowed to swim at the beach at all. Officially this is due to concern that they might injure themselves and compromise their performance at the summer tournament, but I suspect that the school couldn’t resist the temptation to slip in just one more rule.

PPS: For keen students of Japanese, here are the Swimming Rules in all their glory.
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Speaking of school, the other day Ruby played some sort of weekend tournament up in the hills behind Onomichi and while watching the match I was suddenly accosted by the parents from one of the other teams. It turns out that they have just recently returned from Ohio after living there for 16 years and wanted to practice their English. Fair enough, I suppose. The conversation soon turned to my favourite axe-grinding topic, the evils of high school in Japan and I discovered that their 13-year-old daughter, who was born and grew up in America, is having a tough time adjusting to the good old Japanese education system. The poor thing is to all intents and purposes American yet they make her sit down and study English three times a week! (I guess Ruby’s not the only one.) I really felt for the daughter; if you grow up in Japan then at least you know what you’re in for, but for her it must have come as a tremendous shock. And unlike Ruby, she can’t just go back to civilization after two years. So I said we should get the girls together for a mutual griping session. Hopefully that will make her feel a bit better.

Felix’s annual sports day was last weekend. Luckily the threatened rain did not eventuate and a pleasant day was had by all. There were lots of events for all ages including my favourite for the lower grades, the Big Pants Race:

And a good old-fashioned Tug of War. How long is it since we’ve seen one of these?

The kids apparently practiced daily for weeks on end on endless acrobatics, which the Japanese cherish as a symbol of cooperation and teamwork. Here are some examples:

and various combinations of pyramids:

As Ruby always likes to point out, they’d never allow these sorts of things in Australia, where it would be dismissed as “far too dangerous”. Like those dangerous experiments they do in science classes. That’s right, our kids are living on the edge here in Japan. Not to mention the perpetual threat of earthquakes.

Meanwhile, last week we set a new record for the cheapest meal yet in Japan: just ¥390 (that’s $4.42 at today’s exchange rate) for okonomiyaki at a new shop we discovered just down the road. What an absolute bargain! Sadly I don’t imagine there’ll be anywhere back in Melbourne where we’ll be able to feed the entire family for under $20… sigh. Only six months to go. Better make the most of it.

The story begins on Friday, when Sunami primary school held another “come in and check out the kids in action” class visits for parents, this one combined with a Skool Gruel tasting session. With great magnanimity I decided to decline this year so Eleni took up the challenge. She reports that it was pretty tasty and quite possibly good for you, at least if the spiel from the visiting nutritionist is to be taken at face value. Here’s what the little angels got on their placemats on Friday:

After lunch it was class visit time which was home economics. I’m quite impressed with some of the stuff they get up to at primary school; they’ve done all manner of interesting science projects as well as regular wood carving sessions using scarily sharp tools, there was a no-holds-barred sex education component last year (ie in year 4!), apparently they were growing rice at one stage, there’s been a bit of cooking going on recently and then Friday was sewing class. Yes, they’re teaching all the kids to sew at school, which is something I’ve never heard of but I love the idea. Each kid has a little sewing kit with the full array of needles plus a little bit of cloth to practice on and it’s all very civilized. Felix wasn’t too bad on his first time, although this was quite possibly due to the assistance of his one-time Love Interest (sadly no more) Kotone next door:

Incredibly, no-one managed to prick themselves with a needle. Indeed, there are no accidents during the dangerous (by Australian standards) scientific experiments, nor during the wood carving or anything else for that matter. The way I see it, Japan is an altogether less litigious society which means the kids get to do more Fun Stuff at primary school.

On Saturday Felix and I hopped on the bus for a day tour to Sera, a town about an hour away up in the mountains. Sera is famous for its orchards and flower gardens and general naturefulness and it is a lovely spot indeed. Unfortunately it’s also where I managed to get horribly lost a couple of weeks ago while trying to navigate from one of the aforementioned flower gardens back to the concert hall where the band was due on stage any minute. It was such a disturbing Twilight Zone experience that I vowed never to set foot (or tyre) in the place again unless driven by a professional. Our bus driver was wearing a proper uniform so I decided I could trust him.

The first stop was at an orchard place growing all sorts of fruits. We were originally going to be picking strawberries but because of the recent rains there weren’t enough around or something like that, so instead we made strawberry pizza. Yes, you heard it right. Actually I recall from our time in Italy that the Italians themselves make sweet pizza as well — I distinctly remember seeing honey pizza and Nutella pizza on the menu at one of our favourite haunts — so perhaps the Japanese are more in tune with Italian culinary sensibilities than we give them credit for. Having said that, try to picture in your mind the combination of pizza base with custard cream then strawberries and finally chopped cheese on top. I mean, that’s just weird. Still, it was pretty tasty I have to admit. And the kids had plenty of fun making them:

The pizza (“pizze” for you purists) were cooked in a real wood-fired oven and everything:

(If you look really closely you can see the strawberries on top. Of course! Would I lie to you?)

Then we got to sit around and eat our morning tea pizza on the edges of this beautiful old farmhouse converted to a cafe:

I managed to find myself a coffee too so by this stage I was pretty happy on my little patch of verandah:

Next stop was a barbeque lunch up at another spot that was so high up it felt like we were on the very top of a mountain. There was a huge playground and a walking trail and lookouts and lakes and ponds and other bits and pieces, so I went for a nice walk and then found a flat bit of bench and promptly had a little nap in the midday sun while Felix and his friends roamed around the enormous playground on the roof of the world:

Luckily there was an announcement over the ubiquitous loudspeakers when it was time to leave (courtesy of the highly professional bus driver) otherwise I might have become Lost in Sera yet again, only this time without a means of transport just to add to the fun and excitement.

Speaking of excitement, on Saturday night Eleni and the kids spotted a wild boar crossing the road on the hill just above our house, the road that the kids use to go to school. There’s a bit of wildlife around these parts apparently; a few months back I myself saw a wild monkey sitting nonchalantly on a rooftop but I’d really like to see a wild boar, although not up too close thank you very much. Tragically I was out on Saturday night at a soccer function so I missed the sighting, but Eleni called me straight away to fill me in and the other soccer parents thought this was brilliant and we all drank a toast to the Wild Boar of Sunami.

On Sunday I was feeling much the worse for wear after one too many toasts to the Wild Boar of Sunami but we’d arranged to catch up with Yusuke and Yoko and kids for the first time in many months so I heroically dragged myself out of bed and down to Takehara, a cute town about 30 minutes further down the coast with a beautifully preserved Old Bit that is wishfully referred to as Little Kyoto in the tourist brochures:

And I’m glad I did because Y&Y took us to an Okonomiyaki restaurant that was possibly the best we’ve eaten to date. It was just what I needed in my hungover state, too, like a big fry-up of bacon and eggs only more interesting. Eleni and I are starting to tire of our regular okonomiyaki places and are always on the lookout for new ones. Half an hour is a fair way to go for dinner but we may just have to make the effort; it really was that good.

And on the way back we stopped in for a quick coffee at Cafe Hoxton, which appears to be run by a jazz enthusiast and has this dinky little sculpture on the balcony:

While gazing out at the islands we started thinking about all the seaside day trips we’re going to do this summer. Last year we did all sorts of enrichment activities during the stinking heat of summer, even going up to Nagoya and Kyoto for heaven’s sake, so this year we’re going to keep it nice and local. Nothing more than an overnighter. There are so many islands and beaches and cafes and hot springs to explore and we’re determined to fulfil our touristic duty in exploring it all. Well, a fair bit of it anyway.

The class we were instructed to view was science, which I was quite excited about since it’s usually more interesting than the good old chalk-n-talk approach of other subjects like maths and Japanese. And I was amazed to find that the teacher had all the Year 4 kids working with bunsen burners heating up bits of metal as part of an experiment to see if metal expands when it gets red hot. Even more amazingly, the kids did what they were told and nobody got burnt. For the record, metal does seem to expand when it gets hot.

That’s real flame in there!

The idea was to heat up the little ball over the flame and then see if it fits through the metal rings — those are the ones being modelled by responsible young Felix while the teacher looks on unimpressed in the background. (Actually he’s a great teacher and Felix loves science classes.)

Then after lunch there was another one of those friendly events involving the parents. This time it was a dodgeball game for which I had bravely volunteered Eleni’s services. As with the Mihara Games, it involved several practice sessions beforehand, although these seemed to be more for the fun of it than a genuine attempt to develop playing skills.

The dodgeball championships were held in the gymnasium and all the kids were up on the stage cheering on their parents. Eleni put in an excellent effort — Ruby and I agreed that we’ve never seen her move so fast, except maybe when she encounters a cockroach in the kitchen — and the Year 4 parents ended up in second place, winning all their games at the group stage but losing out in the Grand Final to Year 5.

Although initially I was less than enthusiastic about these events I’ve come around to the realisation that they really do a good job of bringing people together. To this end, I’ve volunteered Eleni for the parents vs kids beach volleyball championships in December on behalf of Ruby’s junior high school. This one sounds a bit more serious with practice sessions on Monday and Friday evenings so by the time December comes around I’m confident she will be fully integrated into the local community.

and acrobatics:

Now most junior high schools have at least a couple of hundred kids so they spend a whole day doing all the events for the different classes and year levels. Whereas Ruby’s school has just 70 students, so what they do is to combine their sports day with the get-together for the local area. So you end up with three sets of events: one for students, one for parents of students (and occasionally both, such as the parents vs kids tug of war), and one for the local residents. And it works really well to have alternating events where everybody gets involved.

I got roped into a few events including the parents relay (where I forgot to line up on my turn and left the runner stranded on the track) and the 100-m sprint (where I managed to finish last), but despite the disappointing results I think I gave it 110% and certainly sports was the winner on the day.

I’ve made a short Reader’s Digest version of the Sports Day for your enjoyment — seven hours condensed into 90 seconds, which is all you’re allowed on flickr. But it’s probably just as well — some of the dance sequences were awfully long…

First of all, Sunami Primary School has taken the monumental decision to EXTEND LUNCH BREAK BY TEN MINUTES. Together with the 20-minute recess break this gives the tinies nearly one whole hour of free time per day, which almost begins to sound reasonable. And what’s even more amazing is that they’ve accommodated this extra time not by extending the school day by ten minutes, as one might expect, but by shaving ten minutes off one of the classes. In other words: ten minutes LESS study time per day. It’s unprecedented and totally unexpected and I expect at least half the parents to be up in arms with indignation. And yet it’s happened. How wonderful.

Meanwhile Ruby’s school, not to be outdone, has started allowing the kids to take drink breaks during PE classes, which represents a monumental culture shift, although it’s not totally unexpected…

The story goes like this. One day last term Ruby came home bright pink and overheated after being forced to sit in the scorching sun for an hour with no hat and no water.

“But didn’t they let you have drinks breaks?”
“No, of course not.”
“Why of course not?”
“Because you’re not ever allowed to have drinks breaks during class, and PE’s a class, therefore you’re not allowed to have drinks breaks during PE.”

It was hard to argue with that logic, so I went up and had a word to the Assistant Principal. His response was essentially that back in his day, there was never any such thing as a drink break.

Yes, and?

I tried to explain that things have changed since then, that we’re now in the 21st century and fluid replenishment is considered standard procedure. He promised to check with the PE teacher but when I asked a few weeks later this obviously hadn’t happened.

So I went to the Board of Education. Luckily schools are run by local councils in Japan so it wasn’t too intimidating. The guy was very nice and agreed with me without hesitation, and he promised to ring the school immediately and instruct them to start providing drinks breaks. The end result of which is that No. 4 Junior High has been dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st Century, at least on this one particular issue.

Tragically, despite the victory on water, I seem to have lost out on the hat issue; Ruby came home with the news that hats aren’t allowed at school. I don’t know whether it’s worth ringing back my friend at the Board of Education; the school probably already regards me as the Annoying Foreign Parent and there is the danger that too much activating could make life difficult for Ruby over the next year and a half.

On a different note, I’m pleased to report some important progress on the coffee front: Eleni and I came across a magazine listing all known cafes in Mihara and it turns out that there are quite a few tucked away in back streets that we never knew about. We have taken notes and are determined to check out each one in turn, possibly several times for confirmation purposes. Already I’ve found one called Cafe 3g which not only boasts a funky decor but actually makes a very nice cup of coffee. So I realise now that I’ve been a bit harsh about coffee in Japan. Even here in sleepy Mihara, there’s half-decent coffee out there if you know how to look for it.

And finally, there’s even been progress on the weather front: while it’s still hot and muggy, it’s not quite so searingly hot or oppressively muggy. Some evenings the weather is even, dare I say it, quite pleasant.
It’s as if, after causing nearly 500 deaths and hospitalising thousands with heat stroke, M. Nature has finally tired of torturing us all and conceded that it probably is time for autumn after all. And not a moment too soon.

• Do not eat or drink to excess.
• If you discover any health problems, such as tooth decay, seek medical advice.
• Avoid staying up late and/or sleeping in.
• Observe the rules of the road. In particular, on a bicycle, do not dink your friends, ignore traffic signals or ride in the rain while holding an umbrella in one hand.
• Do not drive a car/motorbike without a licence. (So if you’re 13 years old and want to drive a car/motorbike, be sure to get your licence first.)
• Do not sit up until late in the evening watching TV or playing video games.
• Do not go out at night. (Here it helpfully provides the definition of night as “after the sun goes down”. Thanks for that.)
• When going out, students should ideally wear school uniform or, if not, appropriate attire for junior high school students. (And here it adds that the choice of attire may be left up to the parents. This seems very magnanimous of the school. Can we be trusted with such responsibility? After all, apparently we’re incapable of supervising our own children at the beach.)
• Do not go into department stores or supermarkets unless you have good reason to do so.
• Students are forbidden from visiting karaoke clubs, game centers or cinemas without a parent present. (Thirteen year olds? As if.)
And right near the end, the very best one of all:
• If possible, make time to talk with your family members. (Fat chance of that! You should see the pile of homework that Ruby came home with today.)

I was speaking with the principal recently and he finally set me straight. It turns out that the summer holiday is not actually a holiday at all; it’s just that the weather is so hot and oppressive that it would be impossible to study in the classrooms, which don’t have air conditioners, so instead the school sends the students home to study there for a month before calling them back in September when the weather starts to cool down. He was smiling as he said it, but he was deadly serious.

And now we know what the teachers are doing staying back until eight o’clock every night: writing up useful lists of rules like this. Incidentally there was also another two-page Statement of Rules on Swimming, but I accidentally screwed it up and threw it straight in the bin.

So if anyone out there can think of any other zany rules we could add to the list, feel free to leave a comment. Prizes for best ideas. Must be 32 words or less, neatest correct entry wins.

For the first couple of weeks, Ruby will be trooping off to school every day because the brass band is practicing hard for some big competition coming up on August 9. She’ll will be spending the full day practicing, although they do get a one-hour break in the middle of the day for… guess what… study! Because the school also doles out a massive lump of homework over the summer holidays, since it wouldn’t do for the students to have a bit of free time to relax. After the competition the practice sessions are scaled down a bit, but she still has to go in most days.

And by the way, when you go to school in the holidays you have to wear school uniform.

So school’s out, but school’s not really out. Like a long-life battery in overdrive, Japanese school never sleeps. Even the short breaks for the New Year and the end of the school year (in March) are less than two full weeks, more like ten or 11 days, and you can bet that the kids will be lumped with huge piles of homework then too.

It’s reached the point where we’re hardly surprised any more at what the education system here serves up. It seems every week Ruby comes home with another wacky edict from school: No sweet things for lunch. No drinks breaks during PE classes. No playing at lunchtime. No leaving the house during exams week. Hair ties must be the regulation colour. Hair can only be tied at the back, not halfway up the head. Underwear must be pure white.

Not allowed to swim at the beach until the school says so? No problem.
Native English speakers have to study English too? Makes perfect sense.
Have to stick with the same club activity for three years or your marks go down? Fair enough.
Have to attend school throughout the holidays? Whatever you say.

They’ve even organised a roster of Parent Patrols during the holidays. Our turn is on August 3. We have to meet the other parents and then march around the neighbourhood checking that the kids aren’t being naughty. A big long list came home yesterday of things to look out for (and report back to school the next day, obviously). Things such as:

• Riding too fast on a bicycle
• Dinking friends on your bicycle
• Fishing from the roadside
• Swimming outside the designated swimming areas
• Laughing out loud (OK, I made that one up)

But now, in the name of journalistic integrity and balance, I should like to present what I believe to be the other side of the story. From talking to other parents and reading up on the internet, I have learned that other points of view do in fact exist.

First of all, many if not most parents have to work throughout the holidays (throughout the year in fact; Japanese have never been good at exercising their rights to annual leave, and in the current depressed economic climate people are doubly scared to take time off) and so are glad to have the kids looked after. When you think about it, plenty of Australian parents put their kids in school holiday programs while they continue working; well, here in Japan, the school takes care of it for you. And it doesn’t cost a yen!

From the kids’ point of view, meanwhile, the after-school clubs are meant to provide an enjoyable diversion. No matter that you do it every day after school, sometimes before school as well, and on weekends, and during the holidays; that’s because in Japan, if you’re going to do something, you do it properly. Like, really really properly. Sure it sucks up every last minute of your spare time, but getting together with your friends to engage in something that isn’t study is still fun. Isn’t it?

I have also heard a number of times that the club activities are there to keep the kids off the streets where they might be tempted to engage in naughtiness and Choose the Wrong Path — a sort of state-sanctioned juvenile delinquency prevention program. In Japan, as elsewhere, years seven to nine are seen as the so-called “difficult age” when kids are wanting to distance themselves from their daggy embarrassing parents and start flexing their teenage muscles. The club activities give them the opportunity to stay out until 5:30 or 6:00 every night, so that by the time they get home there’s barely time for homework, dinner and bath before bed. If your teenager is being difficult then this has got to be a win-win solution.

Our case, however, is different because:
(a) while we love all things Japanese, we’re not used to such an authoritarian education system
(b) we both work from home and are around all the time –afternoons, weekends and holidays, and
(c) we still like spending time with our teenager (though she does push her luck occasionally).

At least the primary school is under no such pretensions. As far as I’m aware (fingers crossed) Felix does not have to do anything during the school holidays other than the regulation pile of mindless holiday homework. The school pool remains open throughout the break, which sounds like a great way to get together with friends. Naturally there is a parental supervision roster for this too, but I’m actually quite looking forward to checking out the holiday pool action at Sunami Primary.

And who knows, maybe Ruby will end up having a really great time with the brass band after all. After all, you can never tell what teenagers really want. Why, they don’t even know themselves. Best to keep them busy. That is the Japanese way, grasshopper.

One day last week the teacher delivers another stern lecture to the class: apparently some students are under the misapprehension that lunchtime is for playing. (We’re talking about the tiny bit of lunchtime that’s left after everyone’s finished eating in the classroom and packing their things away; about ten or fifteen minutes.) Lunchtime is most certainly not about playing. What remains of the luncheon period is for getting your books ready for the next lesson. If you have any spare time, you may wish to read a book quietly in the school library, but there is to be NO PLAYING.

So there you have it: from eight in the morning until four-thirty in the afternoon, zere vill be no free time, no fun, no chatting idly with friends. Who needs friends anyway? School is for studying, and nothing else.

No wonder that bullying is such a problem in this country.

The other day I had a dream, of a crazy fantasy world where students go to school from, oh, 8:30 or so in the morning and finish at maybe 3:30; where every day they have both recess and lunch breaks to spend as they please; where they can choose different after-school activities every day or even just go home if they want; where the classes are varied and stimulating and even make use of modern technology such as computers; where school, in short, is a place that you like going to… oh wait, that’d be Australia. And probably most other civilized countries.

We came here to experience a different culture, and I’m loving it all… except for the draconian education system. I desperately want to be proven wrong about this. I would love to be able to retract this piece sometime. But at the moment, this is what I see and it seems so terribly unfair.

There, that feels better already.