A Goal in Mind

By Jon Emile Randles, ALT, Hatsukaichi, Hiroshima 2001-2004

My teammate passed me the ball and I saw two defenders coming toward me. I feinted left and pushed the ball to the right. The ball curled past the goalkeeper and buried itself in the back of the net. Goal!
I looked up and saw my teammates running to congratulate me.
“Kakkoii!” (“Cool!”)
“Umai.” (“Sweet!”)
“Sugoii.” (“Awesome!”)
These weird phrases followed me back up to the halfway line. Strange. Here I was on such familiar territory: a round ball; a goal at either end of a soccer pitch; eleven guys on my team, but it was different. I saw the pitch covered in dirt, far removed from the lush green of New Zealand. The people on my team looked just like the people on their team, except for the colours of the uniform. They were all screaming encouragement to each other in a language that I couldn’t understand. Here I am, I thought. Living in Japan.
I arrived in Japan about two months before my first soccer game. The vacation-like atmosphere of the first few weeks reminded me of summer holidays, rather than the reality of being transplanted into a new life. I enjoyed the sights and sounds of Hiroshima as any tourist would. It was like visiting an exotic country.
And it is exotic. Japan is a world unto itself. There is so much visual stimulus for the newcomer: lights flash everywhere, streets signs seem scribbled, and the food stares back. It all reminded me I was a long way from home, and initially I loved it.
However, after six weeks the novelty began to wear off. I couldn’t find the clothes I wanted, I couldn’t read restaurant menus. I couldn’t work my washing machine. The list went on. My life became “I can’t…” and frustration set in. How was I going to last another month, let alone a year?
I was at my board of education one day, when one of my Japanese colleagues approached me. Okubo-san was a shy, quiet little man who had previously looked away every time I walked into the room. He asked me in broken English if I would like to play soccer for the City Hall team. I had mentioned the World Cup in my self-introductions and obviously word had spread. It took five minutes of gesturing on both our parts to get the message across: a game; next week; Sunday; 2:30 kick-off; he will pick me up. I strode out of the office at the end of the day with purpose. I went to my local sports store and engaged in a gesture-filled conversation with the salesgirl, and ten minutes later I walked out with a pair of soccer boots and a new friend. It only dawned on me then that I had been into that shop about five times previous and had never spoken to her before, thinking it would be too hard.
I came here to teach, of course. I came here to teach my students, new friends, and community not just the English language, but also about other cultures, other ways of thinking, about life. I saw the JET programme as a vehicle to encourage people to broaden their view of the world. At half time during this soccer game, I remembered the other reason why I came to Japan: I came to learn.
I came to learn about another culture, new ways of thinking, and life. I realised that the depression phase had pushed those goals to one side. There I was with my Japanese teammates, all of us sharing the common purpose of putting the ball into the net. What a rich experience, if only I would open up to it.
The most important thing I realised while on the JET Programme is that as participants we have the opportunity of being a part of the local community. Being a part of the community brings rewards. Learning the language takes patience; creating friendships takes time; rewards like these are worth the wait. By taking part in the community everything else seems to just fall into place. All it takes is choosing to get into the game.


BACK ISSUES - JET Alumni Association
2008 Issues: February • January
2007 Issues: December • November • October • September • August • July • June • May • April • March •

.