Letter from Japan

Japanese schools are not perfect. Nor do they profess to be. Having recently returned from a three-week trip to Japan during which I intently studied the Japanese education system and observed schools from the elementary to university level, however, I am convinced that American educators, particularly those in our public schools, have much to gain by examining the “Japanese Way.”

Though the divide continues to expand between many of our nation’s public schools and schools in the private and parochial sectors, I continue to believe that the public school system, though undeniably flawed, remains our best hope for educating mainstream America. Having spent time in numerous Japanese schools, I am convinced that those of us who share this belief would do well to look beyond our own borders for guidance in cultivating the kind of schools that we all desire.

On board with the Fulbright Memorial Fund

This past June, I joined a group of teachers and administrators from across the United States on a cross-seas venture sponsored by the U.S. and Japanese governments and known as the Japan Fulbright Memorial Fund (FMF). As such, our collective objective was threefold: Enjoy an intense three-week tour and study of Japanese education, culture and society; share our own knowledge and experiences in education with the Japanese educators with whom we met; and return home with new ideas and renewed energy to impart to our own school and home communities.

These expectations loomed large and seemingly out of reach as I made my best attempts to prepare for the trip in the few short days between the close of my school year as a public-high-school English teacher and the imminent date of my departure for Tokyo. Somehow I managed to finish grading exam essays, calculate final semester grades and also do a bit of research into the world of the Japanese before I leapt in headfirst for nearly a month. Armed with my aptly named “Survival Japanese” phrasebook and an array of conflicting notions about both the Japanese people and their system of education, I flew to San Francisco in early June for the Fulbright Memorial Fund program orientation. There I joined other similarly excited and dubious educators from all over the United States before our own school bus in the sky delivered us to the heart of the pulsing capital city of Tokyo on June 14.

Money, manners and choice

Though our three weeks in Japan took us to many majestic places like the temples of Kyoto, the Great Buddha in Kamakura and the volcanic mass that is Mt. Fuji, the most notable aspect of the experience for me was our day-long visits to elementary, junior high and senior high schools in the Yamagata Prefecture. Located several hours to the northwest of Tokyo, Yamagata is a far cry from the city frenzy. Yamagata is an agricultural region, and its people are known more for their production of rice, sake and cherries than for their output of scholars. For this reason, it was a logical locale to visit in our quest to observe “normal” Japanese schools.

In sessions with representatives from members of Japan’s Ministry of Education before our school visits in Yamagata, our group of Fulbright Memorial Fund educators learned about the basic structure of Japanese schools, the nation’s recent move toward more decentralization in education and also about the country’s unique system of public school funding. Elementary (grades K-6) and junior high schools (grades 7-9), we were told, are funded jointly by the national government and local tax revenue. Unlike the common practice in the United States, senior high school (grades 10-12) is not compulsory in Japan, though nearly 98 percent of all children attend school through grade 12.

While still funded in part by the national government and tax income, senior high schools rely additionally on student tuition, which averages about $90 a month in most schools. Furthermore, at the end of the last year in junior high school, students and their parents choose the senior high schools to which they will apply. Options range from single-sex traditional schools to vocational/trade schools like Murayama Agricultural High School, which my FMF group visited. Acceptance to each school varies somewhat but is generally determined by a student’s academic record and entrance exam scores.

As we witnessed during our visits and heard from parents and educators, the combination of choice and monetary investment at the high-school level directly affects both student and parent commitment in the schools. Junior-high students are motivated to do well to prepare themselves for high school, keenly aware that their junior-high record and exam scores will largely determine their chances of acceptance at the area high school of their choice. Senior-high students tend to behave more like college students, in that their desire to succeed is intrinsically driven. Students at this level often choose to attend a senior high school that has a vocational or academic focus that aligns with their particular career aspirations. For example, Murayama Agricultural High School, where my FMF group spent a day-long visit, was a trade school that taught students both traditional academics as well as agriculture, biotechnology, environmental design and/or civil engineering, depending on a student’s chosen area of concentration.

Due to the added challenge that students face in entering Japanese high schools, parents are more intensely involved and concerned with their children’s performance and success at every level of schooling. Nearly all parents are active in their school’s PTA and take advantage of opportunities to communicate with teachers and school staff through occasions such as “open school days” and frequent school-wide festivals. In addition, at junior and senior high schools, homeroom teachers make two in-home visits each school year to discuss students’ progress and goals with parents.

After enhancing our knowledge of the Japanese educational system through a multitude of seminars and meetings in Tokyo, my group of FMF educators entered Murayama Junior High School quietly on the morning of our first scheduled school visit, curious to discover how this distinctive system of organizing education actually came together in the classroom. Trying hard not to lose our balance, we first changed from our dirty “outside shoes” into slippers, which we had been advised to bring from home. American feet, as all things American, tend to be larger than most of their Japanese counterparts, and thus we were warned that the guest slippers schools provide would likely not fit our generously proportioned feet.

Sheathed in our super-sized slippers and free now of any outside filth and debris that may have clung to our “outside shoes,” we were led into the school and through spotless hallways toward the gymnasium. As we would soon learn, the students themselves are responsible for cleaning the schools at the end of the day and thus no doubt appreciated our observance of this deep-rooted Japanese custom. Students had just arrived at school for the day and, after stowing their own “outdoor shoes” in neat little cubbies which lined the school’s entry hall, were busily making final preparations for the school-wide assembly which would serve as our welcome to the community, a convention my group of Americans had come to expect over the course of our travels through Japanese schools and political centers.

Like the seemingly simple practice of changing into “indoor” slippers upon entering the school building, all things about the “Japanese Way” are anchored in precise adherence to tradition and respect — for person, place and self. In the Japanese schools, like Murayama Junior High and others we visited, one of the most notable results of this obsession with customs is a pervasive atmosphere of pride and civility. “We want students to be lively, energetic and willing to work,” the principal at Tateoka Elementary School declared to our group during our visit to his school. And such endeavors seem to be advanced in a multitude of ways. Each class, from the elementary school level through senior high, begins with a moment of thankful acknowledgment between teacher and student. Each bows to the other and proclaims with great energy the simple phrase “onegaishimasu,” which translates into something akin to “thank you for the favor of being here today.” Led by this initial act, all parts of the school day, from class, to lunch, to passing periods, proceed with the same alert enthusiasm and palpable sense of mutual respect between students and teachers.

The creation of such a cooperative, coordinated culture does not happen by accident. On the contrary, as the elementary-school principal emphasized, it is an unequivocal result of the many opportunities during the day in which students are encouraged to become an integral part of the school community. The school structure is designed in a deliberate way, such that students and teachers are all recognized as important, valued cohorts with a shared mission. 

One way that Japanese schools carry out this sense of community is through a highly organized system of preparing students’ daily school lunch. Unlike most American schools, where students may bring lunch from home, buy various versions of school-served lunch or eat little or no lunch at all, in Japan, at every grade level, all students eat a school-prepared lunch every day. Just before lunchtime, pre-selected students collect supplies from the cafeteria and serve the members of their class, either in their classroom or in the school cafeteria. To this end, teams of students have specific jobs that rotate weekly, from serving food to arranging desks to create “tables” and a lunch line. Lunch thus becomes a “team activity” with each student relying upon each other’s active contribution for their shared midday meal.

Similarly, the Japanese practice of cleaning the school at the close of each school day fosters the sort of affirmative atmosphere, interdependence and pride that my FMF group clearly perceived during our visits to the schools in Yamagata. When the final bell rang signaling the end of the school day, students proceeded to their assigned area to collect supplies and begin their cleaning duties. After the allotted 15 minutes, the students reported back to their team leader, also a student, to give an account of their work. The students we observed genuinely seemed to enjoy this daily cleaning ritual, racing each other with their mops and using the time to cut up and catch up with friends. 

What can we learn from the ‘Japanese Way’?

In the weeks following my return to Kentucky, I grappled first with some serious jet lag, then quickly thereafter with the inconsistency between many of the basic practices I had witnessed in Japan and the present reality of most public schools in the U.S. What can education in America really gain from adopting aspects of the “Japanese Way”? Clearly our nations were founded on radically different principles. The culturally unified, group-oriented mentality that underlies the Japanese system of education is a far cry from our own individualistic American spirit. While in Japan there is little separation between the public and private sphere, in America we make this distinction in nearly every area of our lives. But at what price in education? More and more, those who can afford it are sending their children to private or parochial schools. Why? Because they recognize that quality education often does not come without a price. They value the education of their children and believe it is a worthy investment of funds. And because they want a choice, a voice, in the place and ways that their children are educated.

These desires, however, are not unique to the upper-middle class, nor should the realization of such desires be reserved for students and parents who can afford to seek educational opportunities in the private school sector. These are desires of parents everywhere, of every socioeconomic bracket, of every city, state and nation. Parents all over the globe yearn for schools that foster responsibility and respect, provide choice and produce citizens with both a zest for living and the skills to make an honest, worthwhile contribution to their community. And as many parents who send their children to public or parochial schools often find, choosing a more expensive alternative to the public system does not necessarily guarantee a better education for their children. How to enhance public education in ways that private schools can never replicate then becomes the fundamental question for those committed to bolstering the public system.

In a world that increasingly operates on a global scale, it has become even more crucial to ensure that our nation’s public schools are equipped to provide the highest quality education for all students. While money alone is not the answer, money well spent is the first major step in closing the gap between public and private school offerings. Additional funding from supplementary tuition, modeled after the Japanese system, might make it possible for our public schools to offer more choice for parents and students on the high-school level. While in no way meant to decrease current levels of governmental funding, added funds contributed by parents on a sliding, income-based scale could allow schools to offer more specialized courses like studies of Shakespeare, agricultural production, biotechnology and computer engineering, the likes of which would appeal to diverse student interests and career aspirations. Mentors for new teachers, smaller class sizes and increased professional development opportunities for educators might become a widespread reality. Though no inroads can be made without more research and discussion, it is up to those of us who believe that public education is the most important pursuit of our modern, global society to look for innovative ways to increase the quality and scope of public education for the benefit of all our students. And if, like the Japanese, we find that along the way we have to pay a bit more to achieve this end, it will be well worth the price.