Value

Sometimes, it's hard to feel like you're making a difference on this job.

There are a lot of things you end up fighting against. The draconian teach-to-test-scores system that doesn't leave room for anything outside of rote drills and memorization. Other teachers not knowing what to do with ALTs at times. The kids not knowing how to react to your activities even when you are allowed to do them.

A "normal" class will involve lots of drills, and the handing back and handing out of seemingly endless tests and worksheets.

Even once you find your footing in the classroom, it's easy to ask the question; "Am I really helping?"

I ask myself this all the time. What difference would it make if I wasn't in these schools at all?

The answer never comes from within. It always comes from the students.

I was walking by the station the other day, as I so often do, living right there and all. I hear a group of kids near me whispering to each other.

The station might as well be my second home. It's also pretty much the center of the city, so I see people I know here all the time.

"Is that sensei?"

"It is!"

"JOHN!" They call out with enthusiasm. It was a group of first years that had just arrived at my main school a month or two ago.

To tell the truth, I didn't even recognize them. There's one thousand students at that school, and I had barely gotten to know these new kids.

"Hey!" I say, putting on my biggest smile and pretending to know who they are.

"Hey, John!" One of them says. "What are you doing right now?"

"Taking a walk? Nothing, really."

"We're on break," they said.

"We haven't had your classes in a while," one of them says.

"Yeah, that's not my fault, though. I don't get to decide my schedule."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, if you want to have more classes with me, just ask your teacher."

Lots of "Ehhhhhhs" follow.

"I dunno. I don't feel comfortable talking to my teacher."

"Well, who's your teacher?" I ask.

They tell me.

"Yeah, I'll ask them for you."

Their faces light up.

"Really!?"

"I'm really sick of normal classes," one of them says.

This one exchange reminded me of a number of things.

One, students smile just seeing me, and are comfortable talking to me even when they don't want to talk to their real teachers. There's less of an age barrier between us, and part of an ALT's job is to be a friend or older sibling figure more than a teacher.

The students realize this. This is in direct opposition to the aformentioned draconian teaching system, where sensei is sensei and student is student. The great wall is broken when talking to the ALT. This offers students a nice break from their usual rigid school day.

Two, they actually do want to have classes with me. I always worry about my activities not lining up with the textbook, or not having any lasting impact. Regardless if they do or not, students are actually excited to have one of their teachers come to class and teach them something.

They're excited to have a lesson structured without drills or other soul-sucking memorization activities. This, alone, is enough. It opens their brains to learning in new ways.

Three, they actually want to and try to speak English with me. They see a real, living reason to want to learn the material I'm trying to teach them. They really do try and use this around me. I'm seeing living, breathing proof that English is not useless to them.

Four, because they are comfortable talking to me, I can be a liason between student and teacher. If they're ok with me talking to the other teachers, I can voice their concerns and suggestions to them, when they would otherwise be too shy to do so.

Five, it feels really nice to be recognized by someone who is glad to see you!

Of course, I think very little of this has to do with John-sensei the person, and more to do with "the ALT" that they get to interact with. But that's not the point I'm trying to make. The ALT is not useless, after all - they're a valuable asset to the students' emotional and mental wellbeing.

Could being an ALT actually mean something? I think the answer is yes.

I think they could get by without us or our activities. But an ALT is to the Japanese school system what salt is to food. It just makes it better. We make life better for the students, in what small ways we can.

And those small ways can bloom into something larger. I've had students interested in speaking better English come to me and talk just to practice. Students who want to work overseas, or be a hotel receptionist, or work in aviation, students who will need these skills in the future or near future and see a great avenue of learning in front of them.

It feels good to help them with things like that - things that matter other than test scores.

I was lying in bed last weekend when I got a text from a student I'd met at English Cafe, an event held here in my city where native speakers play board games and talk with Japanese people. It's a good time, and many ALTs, students, and even older people come to have fun.

Anyway, this student texts me.

"Long time no see!" She says.

"You haven't been to English Cafe in a while!"

It was true. I'd skipped two or three months of it. I was feeling down and depressed. I'm leaving this summer. My time here might as well be done. How much difference can I make just playing board games and talking to people?

"Hey, long time no see! I'll be there this week for sure!" I say.

She responds with a big smiling emoji and says she'll be so glad to see me and have me there again.

I didn't know my presence was valued there at all, but here was this text, proving me wrong.

That's a recurring theme here in Japan for me. I think people don't notice things, don't appreciate things, don't remember things. I guess it might be because people don't display emotions as clearly here, but I'm always proven wrong on an astronomical level.

Students reference a funny moment from a pronunciation game we played a year ago like it's an in-joke we have going, students and other teachers comment on a change in wardrobe while referencing what you used to dress like, students give you a thank-you letter for that chocolate you gave them months and months ago out of the blue.

We are noticed, appreciated, and remembered, even if people don't always outright show us or tell us about it.

As an ALT, I may not make much of a difference in a student's test scores. But as an agent of cultural exchange, a learning experience, a friend, or just an ear willing to listen, I think an ALT can be an invaluable asset to any school or community.

I once took a selfie with the lady who runs a coffee shop near my apartment. An innocuous gesture I thought nothing of. Then the other ladies at my school said they saw it on Facebook. Then they started asking me for pictures, too. Then people started recognizing me out of the blue. "You're famous!" One of my co-workers joked. And now that ice cream/coffee shop lady always looks so happy to see me. It's the little things like this that really make you feel valued.

I'm reminded of of one particular line from the movie It's a Wonderful Life, where George is shown the world without him and how much worse off it would be.

Clarence: Strange, isn't it? Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?
 

It'll be a bit sad to leave, I think. But the real star isn't me, it's the role. I hope whoever comes to fill my shoes will find as much hidden value in it as I did.