How I ended up in Japan
The idea of applying to the Japan Exchange and Teaching Programme got lodged in my head some time in 2001. JET is a cultural exchange program that seeks to internationalize Japan by importing an army of native-English speakers, mostly recent college graduates, from around the world and inserting them into schools and governmental offices.
The JET program had caught my eye in college only a year or two before, but I had wanted to concentrate on getting a job related to my major, journalism. But while I was working at my post-college job in West Texas, a longtime pen-pal and fellow Houstonian wrote of her acceptance into JET and what an incredible experience it was. My curiosity in JET resurfaced and I began researching the program. The more I heard, the more convinced I became that I should apply. It seemed like such an phenomenal opportunity to live abroad, to learn Japanese and to explore a country that had interested me since I became fascinated by its animation. The pay would ensure I wasn't starving and the opportunities for travel were numerous.
I waited until August 2002, when the applications for 2003-04 came out. I filled out the 18-page monstrosity — far more complicated than any college application I'd ever done — and included my essay on why I wanted to be in JET and what I thought I could offer. I worried that my total lack of Japanese-speaking skills would count against me but hoped I would make up for it with my communication skills. In the fall, I mailed in my application and began the agonizing near-half-year of waiting.
In January, I got the first hopeful news that I’d been called back for an interview. I made plans to drive to Houston for the appointment in mid-February only to watch, aghast, as an ice storm descended on West Texas and the surrounding area in the days leading up to my departure. The day I was supposed to leave, the roads of most of East, West and North Texas were covered in a dangerously slick, thick layer of ice.
I decided to make the drive anyway rather than risk missing my appointment, which was scheduled for the next morning. That night, I crawled the roads at a snail’s pace. I struggled to see the lane divisions because of the ice and skidded my way forward inch by inch to Austin, where I’d planned to stay the night. What usually took me four hours took me a miserable seven. As a plus, though, the roads were thankfully clear of other crazies like me trying to drive in the horrible weather.
The interview itself, which took place at the Japan Consulate General’s office in downtown Houston, was nerve-wracking. A JET alumna (bad cop), university professor (good cop) and consulate-general representative (neutral cop) sat on the panel and drilled me with such nerve-wracking questions as, “How would you explain crime to a child in Japan?” and, “What one thing would you change about the U.S. education system?” and, “What three words would you use to describe the United States?”
I came out of the interview thinking I’d pretty much did myself in, but was reassured by JET alumni in the waiting room that they, too, had felt the same way. I glumly told myself that my dismay was a good sign.
Two months later, I received my letter of acceptance from JET. Soon after, they notified me I would be placed in Tokushima City in the prefecture of Tokushima (Tokushima-shi, Tokushima-ken) on the island of Shikoku, the smallest of Japan’s four main islands. I would be living in a foreign land — in a prefecture with few foreigners — where I didn’t speak the language and couldn’t read the writing.
I was in.