卒業式

Graduation

Second years waiting anxiously for the graduates to walk the halls

     Graduation has come and gone. This year was quite special in that I knew all my third years very well. They were an exceptional group of kids - and just to warn you, I'll probably wind up saying that a few more times.

     If pressed, I would say that graduation in Japan is, at the very least, different than that of one from America. I haven't much personal knowledge in regards to what other ceremonies across the globe look like so for simplicity's sake I'll speak to my own experiences.
     As I left for work in the morning I was completely taken back by the amount of snow that had collected on the ground - specifically, any snow at all. It was mid-March! It's not all that uncommon to have a last wind from winter, but this was a freak day of cold and snow. The days before and after had perfect weather indicative of a much desired spring. After scraping my windows clean I drove off.
     The teachers in the office were about halfway dressed. When I say halfway dressed I of course mean that the ladies were all done up while the men still needed to put on ties and jackets. I threw my own jacket in the lockers we have because the accepted fashion here seems to be wearing it only when required. I can get on board with that because it'll help prolong its life, which is my way of legitimizing the fact that I don't want to have to buy another jacket.
     Looking up from my desk I had a brief scan at the day's schedule. We would clean for about twenty minutes, then at 9 o'clock the students would gather once more in the gym for a last minute practice session. Finally, at around 9:40, graduation would commence. Just in this first hour, the differences are notable.
     My high school (and many like it) might have been an exception for the following. Our graduating body was so large that we couldn't use the actual school's field for the ceremony and instead held commencement on the football field of a much larger school. While it is true that most of us work at schools with a marginally low student population I've never heard of a school (in Japan) not having its ceremony anywhere other than its own gym. Conversely, I've never heard a high school in America that did.
     After watching their graduation practice for a little bit I wandered the halls before finally ending up by the reception table, welcoming parents. Alongside four second year girls and two other teachers, we greeted parents and ushered them to the library where they would wait until it was time to enter the gym. To each one we would offer a hearty "おはようございます" and then "おめでとうございます," as they proceeded to find their son or daughter's name on a sign-in sheet.* The parents, by the way, were dressed to the nines. No father walked in without a suit on, and the mothers were dressed as though attending dinner parties. This is a stark contrast to what I remember from my own time, which might be best described as a sea of shorts amongst the faint aroma of coconut tinged sunblock.

The 68th Graduation Ceremony for Akasaki Junior High School

     Eventually I made my way inside and took a seat in the teachers' section. The band (minus the graduates) were seated on the side, close to the entrance. The undergraduates formed two rows in the very back. In front of them were the parents. As viewable in the above picture, the graduates sat close to the stage. For the time being, the chairs were empty because much like one would expect there was a processional march that introduced them.
     Back home, we wore a cap a gown, naturally. Underneath that, most graduates wore dress clothes. The boys wore suits and the girls wore dresses or skirts. The students here wear their uniforms everyday - which would be the case for me had I gone to a private school - and apart from a small adornment that is similar in appearance to a corsage, that is exactly how they graduated. Upon inquiring as to the name of said decorative element I was informed that they called it, "Ribbon". So there you go.
     They came out in two lines, which separated the A and B group. There was a path down the middle in which they walked together (two at a time) then subsequently divided upon reaching their seats. A very noteworthy point to make during the march is that it was only one of two times when people clapped. Nobody cheered ever, or otherwise made noise, but they clapped exactly twice: once when the students walked in, and again as they walked out.
     The ceremony itself was about an hour or so, and it involved a lot of standing up for people as they walked center stage, bowing, sitting, rinse, repeat. The principal offered some words (stand, bow, sit, etc.) then the head of our Board of Education, followed by the head of the PTA. After all that was over they started handing out certificates.
     Apparently handing out each certificate to every student is a rare thing to see. Thanks to the small size of our graduating class it was a possible but according to my principal, that's not always the case. In the event that the class size is too big, a representative would accept the certificates on behalf of the graduates. I thought that was a little bit sad. Everyone's name gets read out at ours, no matter how big of a class. I think we had about 1000 students at my high school that were graduating and we burned in the sun for all the time it took to read out each one.
     In any case, it's quite a thing to see. Everyone treats it with the utmost level of seriousness, which is fine, perhaps. The students didn't smile at all when they were on stage however, which was kind of sad to see. Each one proceeded up the stage, stood at the far end and faced the audience. From there they moved to the center and bowed in front of the principal. A helping teaching handed certificates to him, and he in turn handed them to the students. The receiving student stayed in a bowing position after receiving it, slid to the right, maintained that pose, and did not rise until the person following them received theirs. After that they straightened up and walked off stage.
     Once certificates were all distributed they sang. First, the third years sang two songs, with members of their class conducting and playing the piano accompaniment. The last song was sung between the undergraduates and the third years.

That was pretty much the ceremony. Plus or minus a few rounds of standing up, bowing, and sitting down.

     After the ceremony there was a kind of lull. The third years went back up to their classroom and had a little bit of lunch. Everyone brought a bento that day because there was no actual school lunch. Not much happened from this time until noon when we gathered around for the last part of graduation known as 見送り.**
     For this, all of the students gathered outside their respective classrooms, each holding flowers or personal gifts that they planned to give the recent graduates. I waited on the second floor, which is where the title picture of this post was taken. Once the time hit, the third years descended down each floor and walked the length of the hallway, passing by their former classmates. This is when the undergrads would hand out the flowers or any thing they personally wanted to give to their friends. It's a pretty emotional time, lots of students nearly cried, just as many actually did.
     I was taking pictures the whole time, being very careful to scout out a good location where I could get some nice shots. There was a moment in which a couple of my students realized I was standing there and ran up to me, mostly for pictures, but also to say goodbye. I congratulated them, adding that they were the best kids, and I had the most fun with them. One of the two couldn't understand, the other one did a little. I explained in Japanese and that's when tears happened. We hugged it out, because I don't care about the rules of not hugging here. You hug people when they cry. That's all I'll say on that front.
     I asked another teacher to help hand out cards with my contact information on it, including a QR code for the extremely popular messaging app called, "LINE" here in Japan. It's available all over the world too now, but it originated here. I told the students to write me, so I could send them their pictures. I don't mean to get ahead of my story but well over twenty-five of them have talked to me and I've sent pictures to all of them.
     After all the students walked the halls, I quickly ran downstairs and headed straight for the students' entrance to the school. I knew this is where they would end up, and I wanted to get a few more pictures while they were still hanging around. Sure enough, they were hanging back - not everything is different, loitering is a universal quality of the youth - and I eventually found myself in quite a few selfies, which have also been sent to me. I got some great last minute pictures, including probably one of the best pictures I think I've ever taken. One of my girls asked for a 記念, and I felt bad that I had nothing to give to her.*** I'll have a gift ready for the next time we meet, I promise!
     One of the things I tried to do was convince the students that this day didn't have to be a sad one. It should be happy. It should be joyous. Graduation is a cause for celebration. I think many of my students felt that it would potentially mean the end of friendships (including mine) since they'd all likely be going to other high schools in the area. I made sure to dismiss those things as nonsense. It doesn't have to be the end if we don't want it to be. We can still be friends if we choose to be. A memorable moment was when one of my boys said that he was sad because we couldn't meet anymore. I agreed it was a little bit sad, but expressed I was more happy for what they had in store. It only gets better, I told him. He nodded and said, "I will become a man." That was in English by the way.
     Once the dust settled and all the goodbyes were said, I started back for the office. I grabbed a final picture of the few students who were walking home. That really sealed the deal for me. When I had a look at the shot I had just taken, there was a degree of finality to it, despite having spoken against this notion. Back in the office, alone with my thoughts, I sat down at my desk.

What a day.

I'm going to miss you guys. You really were the best.

-J


* おはようございます (Ohayougozaimasu) is a greeting, which means "Good morning."
   おめでとうございます (Omedetougozaimasu) is a way of saying "Congratulations."

** 見送り (Miokuri) is way of saying "send-off."

***記念 (Kinen) is translated literally as a memory, but it's best to think of it as a kind of parting gift or memento, similar to when we ask a person for something to remember them by.

 　

Good Sports

Hello there,

Third from the right is clearly the best

     This is another long overdue post but speech contest prep has required me to stay late every day for the past couple of weeks so I've been a bit preoccupied.

      Today I wanted to reflect a bit on what my school's Undoukai was like. Undoukai (運動会), also know as Sports Festival, is an annual event which typically takes place after the start of the second semester at all educational institutions from Kindergarten to High School. The entire student body (within one school) is divided into various groups wherein they compete in a series of physical challenges for a ceremonious trophy at the end.
      This actually wasn't my first Undoukai (having attended Kofu Chu's two years ago) but it was the first time I saw my own kids compete. We arrive in August through the JET programme which normally means that the first big school event we see is the Undoukai. That year however, to avoid conflict with the many other schools within my town, the junior high school moved their Undoukai to May - just a month after the new school year. Had I only stayed for one year I wouldn't have been able to see it; fortunately that wasn't the case.
     I arrived to school that Saturday at my usual time of 8:10; the sun was out and bright that morning. Being well aware that I was going to spend an entire day outside I spent a bit of time dousing myself in sunscreen. The entire staff (myself included) was wearing our newly made school T-shirts bearing the slogan, "全力赤中," which doesn't translate so well directly but sounds good in Japanese.* Preparations had been made in the days leading up to event so at about 8:50am I made my way to the field where I awaited further instruction.
     Nearly every teacher other than myself had a job or a purpose for that day, which made me feel all the worse when I was included in the pre-event huddle and radio exercises**. I had asked one of my JTEs if there was something I should be doing to help as no one had mentioned it to me. She explained that I was there as a guest and I should simply be enjoying it. With that point duly noted I picked a seat under the pop-up canopy reserved for staff and waited. As with anything bearing even the slightest resemblance to an official event there is an announcement which commences it.
     The first events were 100m races between small groups of students. Since my entire school was only divided into a red or blue group the events were comprised of teams that included all class levels, 1st through 3rd. I'm not sure how the competitors were picked for each individual sport but it was definitely not split by class. Some of my students surprised me with their athleticism while others I had pegged as likely being adept at their various challenges.
    Next up was the Mukaden, which is a clever pun on the word for centipede (mukade, ムカデ) and the second kanji from the word for relay race (den, 伝). It's not as complicated as the last sentence made it sound, but if you recognize both words it gives one a chuckle. In any case, Mukaden is basically a three-legged race, but with about 10 kids tied together at once making it scientifically 33% more hilarious.
   One of the most interesting events was called, "栄光の架け橋" which roughly translated comes out as "Glory Bridge".*** The idea is that the groups make a bridge out of their backs by kneeling on the ground side by side while the nominated runner walks across this people-bridge in a race to the finish line. The challenge though is that the distance they have to run is longer than the number of people they can use to make a bridge. This means that as soon as one is stepped across that person immediately needs to run ahead and form a new stepping stone so-to-speak. It was wildly entertaining.
     Following these events were demonstrations done by the boys and the girls. The girls had a dance called, "えっちょうー！えっちょうー！," a traditional dance that was modernized with the help of some contemporary music. The boys later removed shirts and performed a series of increasingly dangerous stunts that involved human pyramids and lifting of people to ridiculous heights. After that there was a tug-o-war between the two groups. They split it up into multiple sessions so each team would swap out members successively until the entire student body participated.

Then it was lunch.

     After the break there were more races, relays, and a jump rope contest, which was split between class and group. Each team's members were divided into their respective classes and competed as a whole to see who could get the most jumps in. We saw one team go as high as 39, some that courageously brought home a 0, and everything in between.
     After all the events finished it was time to announce winners. Trophies were handed out per individual achievement as well as group performance. Another category was the banner design. Each of the classes designed their own Sports Day banner and everyone in the audience voted on which one they liked the best.
     Excluding the enkai, I spent a bit of time thinking about this whole day. At first it seemed identical to what I experienced at Mitsuko's school. It was similar in structure, there were similar events, and I also had nothing really to do but watch. The fact that they were my kids though changed how I felt about it. I became intensely interested in their performance towards the end of the day especially during the relay.
     I started to wonder what had changed. The first half of the day was interesting and fun enough, but it didn't affect me so immensely until I really thought about it. I realized that I was moved by them. The displays of athleticism, the level of cooperation, and the spirit of community that bound them was something I never had at any level of my education.
     Weeks beforehand I had been asking my students if they were looking forward to it. The answer was unanimously: No. I was caught off-guard. It does take a lot out of you, and they had to spend quite a few weeks practicing for all their events so I could understand why perhaps they were less enthusiastic about it, but a solid no? From everyone? It was hard to fathom. I did ask a few students afterwards and the answers all changed. I remember being 13/14 and never being able to admit when I actually liked something out of fear that it would be mocked so when they responded with, "It was kind of fun," I knew what it meant. I don't think they'll understand what a powerful experience it was until they don't have it anymore. If only we could learn this before it were too late.
     I'm going to miss my kids as well. That's what Sports Day somehow managed to bring forward into my immediate attention. It was likely less to do with Sports Day itself but rather the fact we were all in one place, at one time, making the most our of rapidly dwindling time together. There will be a time when I never see them again.

And that is a sad thing to realize on such a fun day.

-J



* So Zenryoku (全力) means "All one's strength" and Akachu (赤中) is the abbreviation of our school. It's actually similar to how we shortened names of schools back home. I went to Pacifica High School, but it was just as common to say Pacifica High. This is a similar idea to when Akasaki Junior High School (赤碕中学校), just gets shortened to Akachu. It's a nickname for the school. So that plus Zenryoku means something like... Full Strength Akachu! Or All Our Best Akachu! In any way that one wishes to translate it, it comes out as sounding very much like a slogan or catchphrase, which is the idea.

** Radio exercises were something that originated in America as it turns by the Met Life Insurance company in 1922. It never took off there but a group of Japanese workers visiting Japan took the idea back home and it flourished. It basically involves light group exercising set to similarly light music. Since 1928 (used first to commemorate Emperor Hirohito) Japan has been broadcasting radio exercises (ラジオ体操) over the air. There was a brief moment during the occupation of Allied forces when Japan was ordered to stop doing it out of fear that it was too militaristic. As soon as they regained independence they went right back to it and it remained popular for many decades. Nowadays it's mostly forgotten but is still used at some old companies and especially at events like Undoukai where it largely serves as a way to encourage group activity, and a pinch of exercise.

*** That first kanji comes out as "glory" and the second part actually means "suspension bridge". I'll let you put that together in English however you want to.

The Importance of Being (Responsible)

Today is actually about yesterday.

     After having been so utterly frustrated with 5th period class on Monday I took to the internet and left a message as oft senseless and fleeting as those of a skywriter on blustery day. It was only two sentences and it went like this:

That was the worst lesson I've been a part of. 

I have never been so unequivocally disappointed with an entire class

 -Me, in a bad mood. Circa yesterday.

     Here's the story for those of you who want the scoop: My third years are going on a school trip to Kyoto and Nara. In fact, I think everyone's 3rd year students are going on a school around this time of the year, usually right after Golden Week as I hear. In any case, one of my JTEs asked of me a "worksheet" that would help prepare the students for talking with a foreigner. As a brief aside, I hate that word and the way it pops up in my daily life these days, but another post; another day. I set out to make a guideline of sorts that used a mock conversation (minus the English speaker's parts) in a flow that would allow them to politely greet a stranger, ask a few questions, then politely excuse themselves.

     I made a first draft of this that was quickly rejected, as it always is because I never receive explanations of what to do until I do it wrong first. Upon receiving some remarks as to what I should do, I fixed it and left it alone until the class came, about a week later. On the day of the lesson the JTE who requested it, asked to see the worksheet once again. She then showed it to another JTE (also a 3rd year teacher) who produced a worksheet that she had made. I didn't know at the time but this other JTE was coming to the lesson as well. Now it is fairly commonplace for me to be asked to make something, only to have it rejected, or worse, not used at all in the lesson because said JTE actually made a worksheet for herself as if she didn't believe I was going to do what she asked. I already felt like this was going to be one of those situations.

     The three of us move up to the 3rd floor and we start up. From the beginning my students seem completely unenthusiastic, knowing well in advance what I was there for. JTE1 tells me to explain what we were doing that day and I lead off with a speech about my first time in Japan. Let me retell it for you here:

When I first came to Japan in 2007, the first people I talked to were a group of elementary school kids. They were maybe 6 or 7. Maybe older. I can't remember anymore! Anyway, they came up to me and started speaking a bit of English. At the time I had only been studying Japanese for about a year or so, so I couldn't say very much. I introduced myself. I said, 'my name is Joshua' and stuff like that. One of them, a boy, told me that he liked soccer. I remember that part so well. I told him that I liked music. I was so thrilled. That's what made me excited to learn Japanese more. We had a small conversation. I spoke something that they understood, and I could understand them.

I pause.

Now you guys have been studying English a lot longer than I had been studying Japanese at the time. I really hope that you try speaking English if you can, even just a little bit, because it's going to feel amazing. You'll be so excited, and so proud of yourself. So, please, try to talk to someone!

I finish up and we move on.

     Now you might be thinking to yourself, Come on! You expected your students to understand all of that? Of course I did not. I have been reprimanded by JTE1 for speaking Japanese in the classroom - a topic incidentally that I could write a whole book on. I've stopped, because I have trusted JTE1 to translate what I say. It should please to you know that she translated approximately 0% of that entire speech. Her reaction was, "Yeaaah....". This is a supreme point of discontent. I don't mind the FCC blocking the waves so long as the kids are getting the information, but they're not. This happens time and time again, and I'm made to stand there like a jackass for spouting off English that I could translate (poorly no doubt) on my own if I were allowed. I apologize for breaking into tangents quite often, but quite often there are tangents to break into.

     Next, we played English Shiritori,* which they clearly demonstrated was unabashedly lame for kids of their age. Maybe my kids are just too cool for school, but I guess it simply doesn't jive with them anymore. After this, we started the conversation practice. I tried to start the conversation practice. None of the kids paid attention. They all talked over me. When I tried to help translate their practice sentences out loud (because FCC wasn't going to do it) one boy thought it wise to suggest 「トイレへ行きたい」 (I want to go to the bathroom) as the English for each of the sentences I was trying to help them understand. Most of the students were turned in their seats, talking with a neighbor during this futile attempt at what was quickly becoming a disaster. I got through all the practice sentences, just by bull-rushing through them. I didn't care that they weren't listening, or that the JTEs were saying nothing during all of this. They asked for my help and I was going to say my piece before backing down. After I explained the sentences we cut them loose(r?) to come up with some questions that they would ask on their trip. This is when I circled the room. Upon asking, nearly every student said not only were they not going to ask any questions, but that doing so would be 「めんどくさい」which is a Japanese word that means "bothersome" only it's a bit rude. I wanted them to ask me questions. I wanted to be the "foreigner" they encountered in Japan so we could test how much they would be able to talk with someone they met. I had hoped for them to practice their conversations amongst one another. I had hoped for a lot of things.

     This was when they interrupted what apparently was supposed to be a very short segment by me and handed out their worksheet, an activity to interview tourists they meet. I was thoroughly pissed off by this point and I wanted nothing to do with the rest of the day. I was on the tail end of a sore throat, with a pounding headache, and now the taste of a horrible class. They didn't care. 

And by they, I don't just mean the students.

     On all fronts that was pretty upsetting. That was an emotional upset though. I went into this program much like my peers with a smile on my face and hope in my heart. The rate at which the system grinds out the last ounce of moxie from any given ALT seems to run like clockwork. Now that the disillusionment has passed I could try to figure out what I really wanted to do, as well as reevaluate my purpose here. If anything I'm just trying to be a guy that the kids can talk to, and maybe be a person that sparks some curiosity for learning. As much as I hate to think about it in these terms, I might just be a person whose job it is to let them know that foreigners are not all scary. I thought I could do that by talking to them, but many of them rarely wish to converse with me. That might be a bigger issue altogether though.
     Conversation is something that's quite tricky. I can understand why one would want to hand-wave past it. By necessity it's a different breed of communication than the written form, or what one finds buried in their textbook after blowing dust off the cover and cracking it open as though it were a magical tomb of knowledge and early 80's George Lucas. More often than not I see stale conversation in these textbooks and stiff wording like first two sentences of the following:

Apparently he's got three reasons.

     An instance of stiff wording like this came up in one lesson I had a while back with a teacher who is not here anymore. We were getting the students to write a letter (something that should not be done in lieu of conversation practice) about their favorite time of year as well as a few reasons why. I was asked to make the structure exactly like the previous picture. Here's how it read:

"I like winter vacation better than summer vacation. I have three reasons."

     I told my JTE that it sounded a bit rough. I further explained that there was a simpler (and more pleasant) way of saying the same thing, which goes, "I like winter vacation better than summer vacation for three reasons." This was received with a warm reception but I was told that we should just leave it alone for the kids. I did so without paying it much mind, but what I now know to be true is that acts such as those are the seeds for what happened to me yesterday.

     Let's look at these next three pictures for a minute. Each one depicts conversation practice from the current textbook we're using at my school. What do you notice about these three?

There's a lot to be said about these.

Really inadequate direction instructions

A small french fries.

     Now what I noticed is that most of the conversations that occur over the course of these Sunshine textbooks immediately drop into a situation. The set up presumes that someone else has already asked them a question. It doesn't seem designed to give agency to the students for their own conversations. There's no introduction, meeting, or greeting. There's no ice breaker. I've seen many of the "Basic Dialog" sections (which are seriously anything but) include polite phrases such as "Could you" and "Shall we" but never have those popped up as actual grammar points to study. I imagine the writers predicted that the students would absorb this information if it were just dropped into a conversation they were asked to repeat with no knowledge of what it means or how it's used like some form of really cool linguistic osmosis. 

The bold words 

are the current "grammar" point for these particular chapters. I've looked and not once are useful things like "Could you" or "Shall we" covered in any kind of detail.

     The larger point I'm trying to make here is that they don't teach anything that would be useful for starting up a conversation, or at least ways to fill in the holes of a conversation that text printed on paper is not able to cover. And to circle back to my original point, maybe the kids feel like they just don't know where to start in a conversation. I put myself in other people's shoes constantly - I've got average sized feet so I can get a good spread - and I thought about what it must be like for my kids with only these textbooks and the instruction they get from school. When I talk to someone in Japanese, there's a bit of a dance you do to bring up a topic. I'd never just turn around and ask someone if they wanted to join me on a fishing trip. But think about it, is that any different from English? I don't think so. We have dances as well, and someone's dropped the ball on the moves here.
     As you might I imagine I talk about this a lot with friends and family. That being said, I tend to keep most of these ramblings in my brain because I like having friends. One of the things I'm very keen on doing however is making sure I present whatever I have to say within the proper framing. When I'm complaining for example I make sure to not generalize all of Japan or worse, let them leave the conversation thinking such things. I can easily be upset about a lot of stuff here but I have enough sense to know that what I experience is just that, my experience. It's a challenge when we all complain about similar things but us ALTs are in an extremely dangerous position when it comes to cultural representation, which is a two-way street by the way. How we inform other people about Japan is just as important as how Japan receives information about where we're from. As hard as it is, I always try to be responsible with the portrait I'm painting of Japan.


Yesterday made it really fucking hard though.

-J

Batabata (And Other Noises)

Today my elementary school visit was canceled.

     This year three of the elementary schools I visit: Yasuda (安田), Isai (以西), and Narumi (成美), have all converged into one location on Narumi's campus and rebranded themselves as Funanoe Elementary School (船上小学校). The change of course means so much news for all three of the schools. For one, they couldn't keep all that staff in one building. Even if the convergence meant they had three school's worth of kids there's certain positions that just don't overlap like the Principal, Vice-Principal, Nurse, and other such staff members. Also, the student population for each of the schools was very small. Yasuda, for example, had a 5th grade class of about 8 students and the around the same for the 6th grade class at Isai. What this means is that many of those classes could be combined, which consequently means that there would be even less positions available after the change. It's a big deal for everyone over there, and I'm not even sure who was able to stay or had to leave. I'll find out the next time I go to Funanoe. Naturally I have a couple of picks in mind if I were building the 2014 Funanoe Dream Team, but we'll see.
     Last week I received a temporary print out of this year's elementary school and kindergarten visits. Today was supposed to be my first visit to Funanoe but I hadn't received any fax or outline on what they wanted me to do. After Kyoutou-sensei asked about next week's kindergarten schedule I informed him that I hadn't heard about what I was doing for Funanoe; he shot straight up in his chair upon realizing this. He placed a phone call, then informed me that they were "batabata," an expression I'd heard before but never looked into. You could probably figure it out without me explaining it it all, but in short it meant they were busy.
     Onomatopoeic expressions do a lot of heavy lifting around here. One has to hand it to them for everything that they manage to say without saying much. Batabata (ばたばた）is not so much a word, but an expression indicated with the sound one makes by saying "batabata". It's a pretty hard concept to explain back home in America because there just really isn't a way of speaking like that. As with many things, there's similarities met with even more nuance. If you had to imagine it though, rather than saying someone was "shot" you instead said someone got "pew pew'd". That's a rough example but it's kind of the idea. Here's a better one for you. Let's pretend you performed a feat of illusion or some other manner of fantastic accomplishment, a fairly camp way of celebrating the climax might be, "tah-dah!". The word doesn't mean anything particular in that sense. It's just a sound to indicate something in our tangible word. Japan's ideophones (onomatopoeic sayings) on the other hand, cover far more abstraction. There's even a "sound" to indicate silence (しいん） which feels like dividing by zero to me. Some of the most well known ones include "doki-doki" (どきどき) -a heartbeat; "kira-kira" (きらきら) - the sound of sparkling; and Gyu (ぎゅ) - which means all kinds of things including: trembling, hugging, or squeezing.
     What makes all of this particularly interesting for me is the way in which language itself encourages these kinds of formations. I'm not a student of Chinese (language), but I remember way back in one of my college classes we discussed Chinese philosophy. One of the essays I wrote on the final for that class (several pages in fact) was how a white horse is not a horse, don't get me started on that by the way. In any case, one of the things we talked about in that class was how the construction of Chinese language allowed for this kind of jejune pedantry. They were playing games with language. In English, imagine I said "Dog Shark". What are you picturing? Chances are it's something that's either mostly one with hints of the other, that is to say: a dog-like shark or indeed a shark-like dog. For a pop culture reference of how this effect works in action check out the following character known as "Catbug" from the web-series "Bravest Warriors":

Part cat, part bug, 100% cute

     Catbug's form factor indicates he's mostly a bug, but the distinctive cat ears and mouth shape point towards that of a cat. He's a cat-like bug. It seems fairly cut and dry, but in our studies we discussed how Chinese language construction allows for something tricky. If written in Chinese the word "Cat-Bug" might not be interpreted as something cat-like or bug-like but as something that is at once a cat and a bug, or belongs to both groups of cat-ness and bug-ness. It's a bit more involved than this, but if you're interested check out the story here. It doesn't seem like a big difference, but it manifested into the form of an ostensibly intellectual school of Chinese thought, so there you go.
     Language is pretty fun and the sound effect based lingo that thrives here in Japan largely stems from the way their language is constructed as well. Japan has a syllabary rather than an alphabet. Since everything is composed of individual characters that represent a singular sound, it would seem that ideophones are far more represented in conversation than America. Manga is a particularly keen way to witness the uses of these effects, and has proven to be a place where they thrive due to their usefulness. In English we rely on words, descriptors, for actions or effects. Things like, "screech," "smash," "creak," and "knock-knock" are all words that become requisitioned to describe the action on the page. Japan has a veritable treasure chest of sound effects which are not exactly words in the sense that they exist to quite literally be the sound for what they describe whereas our onomatopoeia exists to describe what the sound is.

So long story short: they canceled my elementary school visit today.

Batabata,

J