It is crucial to note, however, that the day-to-day behavior of ALTs was never tightly supervised and controlled. Stanley Heginbotham has suggested that there are three compliance mechanisms available to maintain indirect control over the behavior of physically inaccessible field agentsmaterial incentive control, feedback control, and preprogrammed control36- and his model seems to apply well here. Material incentive control was clearly evident in the arrangement of the overall employment package, for it was in the ALTs' best interest to fulfill the requirements of the job. Preprogrammed control, which is achieved by persuading the individual worker to accept the goals of the program, was manifest in the orientation, midyear conferences, and newsletters organized by CLAIR, as well as in a variety of team-teaching seminars and publications at the prefectural level. These attempts to get ALTs to buy into the goal of team teaching were nevertheless constantly in danger of being undermined by actual conditions in the schools.
Feedback control, which involves some monitoring of the ALTs' job and regular reports, was rarely implemented. In fact, one of the frequent complaints from ALTs regarded the lack of feedback from their superiors (particularly ETCs) about how they were performing their jobs. This lack of feedback is quite understandable, however, given the difficulty of objectively assessing much of the ALTs' work, the uneven nature of the ETCs' own expertise in team teaching, and their strong preference for avoiding confrontation with a foreigner. Feedback control would make explicit the limitations of trust and confidence in the ALT and could easily undermine the hosts' fragile commitment to team teaching, on which the entire program depended.
THE FRONT LINES OF INTERNATIONALIZATION
At the prefectural level, JET participants are pulled into a complex, heavily bureaucratic institution with ongoing programs, priorities, and operating procedures. Board of education bureaucrats must respond to a bewildering array of objectives and pressures-from school officials and teachers, district administrators, the ALTs, and national-level ministry bureaucrats. When the formation of coalitions at the national level is aided by leaving policy goals somewhat ambiguous, then lower levels must take on the task-and the unpleasantness-of removing ambiguities. Sato-sensei and Tanabe-san inherited a whole host of problems that had been left unresolved, including the pension issue, Japanese language training for ALTs, and the relative emphasis to be given to conversational and exam English.
Numerous other small factors-conflicting commitments, dependence on those who may not fully support the program, procedural requirements-accumulate to affect how prefectures implement the JET Program. Other difficulties arise because the local bureaucrats charged with implementation may not have the necessary proficiency in English. Finally, as the actors frequently change, their attention (on both sides) shifts: prefectural officials rotate every few years, and the turnover among ALTs is constant. Indeed, nearly 40 percent of ETCs report that they are working with foreigners for the first time. Under these circumstances, it is little wonder that Sato-sensei and Tanabe-san most frequently described their JETrelated job responsibilities to me as "burdensome" (futan).37
The teachers' consultants thus employ a variety of methods to protect established routines and existing institutional priorities. They exhibit a tendency toward what Harry Wolcott has referred tows "variety-reducing behavior.""' That is, the ETCs respond to the ALTs with inherent conservatism because they are anxious to keep things manageable and to minimize the program's burden to themselves and others. Changes in policy are avoided because new initiatives usually arouse more controversy than leaving things as they are-even if the status quo includes contradictions and jurisdictional overlaps. In many ways the picture that emerges confirms what is already known about Japanese strategies for resolving conflicts when making and implementing policy. It very closely approximates what Michael Blaker has described as "coping": that is, "carefully assessing the international situation, methodically weighing each alternative, sorting out various options to see what is really serious, waiting for the dust to settle on some contentious issue, piecing together a consensus view about the situation faced, and then performing the minimum adjustments needed to neutralize or overcome criticism and adapt to the existing situation with the fewest risks."39 While coping in foreign policy is usually seen as spineless or immoral, it could also be viewed as a pragmatic and realistic response.
In spite of the difficulties in conflict management and the extra work the JET Program created for them, Sato-sensei and Tanabe-san did not once consider forsaking their responsibilities. Eager to remain true to the spirit of the program, and feeling very acutely the high expectations of the superintendent and the governor that they make internationalization a "success," both of them worked mightily not only to defuse potential conflicts but also to create support and momentum for team-teaching activities. Under their guidance the prefecture sponsored a series of teamteaching workshops and seminars, and in the final year of their tenure it published a sourcebook of ideas for the communication-oriented English language classroom. Most ETCs strongly believe that the JET Program is in the national interest. Prefectural officials remain receptive both to pressure from the ALTs themselves and to top-down guidance from national ministry officials.
The ETCs did not have their hands entirely tied by environmental constraints or cultural preoccupations: like most people, they are selfinterested actors and, as we have seen, they wield considerable power in shaping program content. Indeed, their power lies precisely in the ambiguity of their role. Bureaucrats can interpret policy directives in ways that align their own desires and those of policymakers or they can ignore directives altogether. Each course of action has costs and tradeoffs, and the choices are real. The prefectural board of education is thus the focus of pressures from all sides, and the teachers' consultants are the fulcrum around which the system moves. Influenced by outside guidance and authority, they nonetheless shape program structure and content in ways that protect local meanings and institutions.
In the summer of 1995 I had the opportunity to revisit Sato-sensei and Tanabe-san and to swap stories again over beer and karaoke. After four years working for the board of education, Sato-sensei had been appointed head of curriculum at a prestigious prefectural high school, where he was biding his time before being appointed vice-principal. Tanabe-san first had been sent to a district board of education, and then was promoted to assistant section chief (kacho hosa) in the personnel department of the prefectural office. He had a much more distinguished look about him, enhanced by the addition of some gray hairs, and Sato-sensei joked at how quickly he was ascending the prefectural career ladder. Neither had had any significant contact with subsequent administrators of the JET Program. "It would be rude and inappropriate to offer unsolicited advice," Sato-sensei told me.
With a bit of prodding they began to reminisce about their time together in the board of education. Tanabe-san commented that he missed those days because he now had less variety in his job. By contrast, Satosensei was much more relieved to be out of the line of fire, even though he still taught English regularly with an ALT. "We just gave up being a base school," he noted, "and to tell you the truth, it's a lot easier that way." But he did not regret having worked with the ALTs. "I'm thankful for taking that position because I've learned I should just say what I think. If ALTs can express their opinions freely, then we have to be able to do the same." We talked late into the night, and I was particularly impressed by Tanabesan's long-term perspective on internationalization:
You know, everyone talks about kokusaika, but it's a lot harder than it looks! It takes a lot of time, and there's a lot of disappointment along the way. Ten years from now we'll probably be saying, "Look at that stupid stuff we were doing back then." The first few years are the hardest part-getting everyone used to foreigners. But our sensibility is to put up with the bad part of hosting ALTs so as to reap the benefits of the good part. That's why we keep inviting more and more ALTs. And this is definitely the trend. There's no turn
ing back now.
Prefectural officials, of course, must turn the assistant language teachers over to school-based personnel, and it is at the school level where the symbolic agreement, so easy to maintain when the concept of "internationalization" is fairly abstract, really begins to break down. Japanese schools, like their counterparts elsewhere, often elude the administrative reach of national and prefectural policies. They are also quite different in many ways from secondary schools in the ALTs' home countries. Most Japanese secondary schools display close daily cooperation and interaction between teachers centering on twin goals: preparing for entrance exams and socializing students toward norms of group process. By the standards of this environment, the ALTs often behave very poorly, because their cultural assumptions lead them to view the goals of education in general, and the meaning of internationalization in particular, somewhat differently. Consequently, their presence in schools requires a delicate balancing act on the part of Japanese teachers who are eager to ensure that the ALTs have a pleasant stay but also need to shield themselves and their students from the undesirable effects of the ALTs' presence. In the early years it was not uncommon to hear JTLs half jokingly refer to the JET Program as "the second coming of the black ships" (kurofune raishu), drawing a parallel with Commodore William Perry's uninvited "opening" of Japan to Western trade in 1854.
Yet despite the shared administrative and normative framework for public secondary education, individual schools vary considerably in atmosphere. One of the most remarkable features of the JET Program is its capacity for transporting participants past the stereotypes of Japanese education; if there is one refrain that is sung by every ALT, it is "no two JET experiences are alike." In chapter 4, we considered how such differences be tween small mountain village and city, between academic and commercial school, can lead to complaints by participants; but they can also underscore the richness of the system. This variation within public secondary education is all the more significant because it is routinely ignored by the Western media.
This chapter examines both the cultural patterning of and the diversity in school-level responses to the ALTs. In many ways, an ALT arriving at a local school can be likened to a stranger being brought into a preexisting culture. What are the cultural rules governing this process, and what are the possible social dramas that can unfold? How do persons with radically different cognitive frameworks interact when they are asked to work together on a short-term project? I begin with several vignettes: while they by no means cover the range of JET experiences, they start to address the challenging question of how ALTs can have such radically different "Japan experiences" in a culture that has long been portrayed as homogeneous.
NISHIKAWA: AN ACADEMIC HIGH SCHOOL
Early in 1989 the principal of Nishikawa High School received word from Sato-sensei that his school would be asked to serve as a base school for an ALT beginning in August. Up to that point, Nishikawa had only been visited one day a week, but the numbers of JET participants had expanded. Would the principal bring this matter to the attention of the head English teacher and secure the approval of the entire English teaching staff? The principal called in Hayano-sensei, an energetic and savvy teacher who served as head of both career guidance and the English department, and the two of them discussed the problem.
Founded in 1982 and accommodating roughly 1,500 students annually, Nishikawa was one of the newest and most rigorous academic schools in the prefecture. Nestled amid rice fields in a suburban community approximately fifteen miles from the capital city, it was the flagship of the prefectural project to improve performance on university entrance exams; the public schools were competing fiercely with the private high schools in the prefecture. This determination to fashion an academic reputation was manifest in a number of ways. Each year the school held an open house for prospective students and their parents; nearly i,ooo people attended in 1989. The annual Culture Festival (Bunkasai), an important schoolwide activity showcasing students' artistic and musical talents to parents and guests, had been renamed "Cultural Event" (Bunkateki Gyoji) in the hopes that students would view it as a serious learning experience rather than simply a carnival; preparations began weeks in advance. Similarly, the annual school trip eschewed popular destinations such as Tokyo Disneyland or ski resorts in favor of more intellectually stimulating venues. The school allowed nearly a quarter of its students to leave for after-school classes (juku) immediately after sixth period, missing homeroom, cleaning, and club activities. Hayano-sensei even told me that shortly after the Ministry of Education decreed that public schools would close for the first and third Saturday of each month, Nishikawa's twelfth graders began coming to school on Sundays for special review sessions. "We have to keep the curtains pulled," Hayano-sensei confessed, "because the media will have a field day if they find out about this."'
The presence of an ALT would take away valuable time from entrance exam study as well as constantly threaten to embarrass the majority of the Japanese teachers of language, whose spoken English skills were limited. Thus, when Hayano-sensei presented the board of education's request, he was not surprised that the English teachers fell completely silent. But isolationism was not an option: the long-term viability of Nishikawa depended on acquiring base school know-how. The principal and head of curriculum lobbied to consent to hosting an ALT and Hayano-sensei returned to the English faculty with the verdict: "In the present climate of internationalization," he declared, "this is a must (masuto)."z
Out of a staff of twelve full-time and three part-time English faculty, only Ueda-sensei was genuinely enthusiastic at the prospect. Hayanosensei knew he could count on three others-Kawakami-sensei, Kuwano- sensei, and Ikuno-sensei-for varying degrees of support, but that left seven of the full-time faculty dragging their heels. But the decision to be a base school had been made, and Hayano-sensei stressed the importance of all English faculty being "in step" (ashinami wo sorou) as they implemented it. He appointed Ueda-sensei to be overall coordinator of the ALT's visit (ALT tanto). This proved to be a masterful move. An experienced and dedicated teacher possessing a rare combination of wisdom, perspective, and empathy, Ueda-sensei was deeply respected by both students and faculty. Moreover, even though he was extremely busy as head of the health section and constantly involved in counseling students who were suffering from academic and social stress, he was truly excited about hosting an ALT.
Under the watchful eye of Hayano-sensei and the pragmatic, down-toearth leadership of Ueda-sensei, the English faculty began preparing for hosting the ALT. No fewer than six informal positions were created for overseeing various dimensions of the ALT's visit: head of orientation and settling in, counselor, coordinator of the team-teaching schedule, administrative liaison with the board of education, chair of the welcome party and other special events, and coordinator of a once-a-month discussion group (kenshukai) for the English teaching staff. Three teachers visited another high school in the prefecture with a long history of international involvement and attended an informational meeting held by the prefectural board of education, in both cases receiving valuable pointers on how to be an effective base school. This pertained both to practical administrative tips on finding housing and helping the foreigner to adjust and to more subjective matters-in particular, advice on the importance of integrating the ALT into school routines, on keeping tabs on the ALT's emotional and mental state, and on making sure that the ALT was well aware of his or her specific role (ichizuke) within the overall academic and social curriculum.
Finally, in July, the vital information about Nishikawa's ALT arrived from Sato-sensei. They would host a twenty-two-year-old British woman, Karen Chambers, who had taken a degree in English literature and German at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland. According to Karen's application, which was circulated around the teacher's room along with her photo, her coming to Japan stemmed primarily from a desire to travel and to experience different cultures. Her Japanese language skills were negligible. Over the next
few weeks, the two hottest topics among the English teachers were Karen's nationality and gender.
Karen's actual arrival was somewhat anticlimactic; because it coincided with a four-week summer vacation, the teacher's room was largely vacant during her first few weeks. Though some ALTs have complained bitterly about the boredom of the first few weeks, Karen was relieved to have a chance to settle in before her teaching responsibilities began. In a farewell letter two years later, Karen recalled: "I remember Sato-sensei saying to me at the prefectural orientation, 'That's your supervisor, Ueda-sensei, over there.' I turned around and faced about thirty Japanese men-I had no idea who he was talking about and I was very nervous! After that, August is a blur of new experiences. My apartment ('How small!' I thought); eating somen [noodles] in the office while everyone watched me using chopsticks; a hot teacher's room; cycling to work through rice fields; and lots of official forms." Karen's apartment was small but adequate: two six-mat tatami rooms, a small dining room, bath, and flush toilet. Perched on the edge of a small rice paddy, it was a convenient five-minute bike ride to the school or to the train station.
Karen was especially appreciative of the warmth and kindness exhibited by the faculty at Nishikawa. Shortly after the school year began, the English faculty threw her a welcome party at an expensive restaurant. Her picture and self-introduction appeared in the school newspaper. "I'm so lucky to have come to such a great school," she kept exclaiming during the first few months. Karen was also assigned to visit the neighboring school, Yamagi High School, on Mondays and Thursdays, and happily discovered that Yamagi teachers were much more laid back than Nishikawa's. She soon settled into a weekly routine. Even her first experiences team teaching were positive, and she quickly overcame her fear of being unqualified. "This job certainly doesn't take much brains," she told me two months into her stay. "[All I have to do is] talk about myself. 'I have a brother ..."'
Importing Diversity: Inside Japan's JET Program Page 23
