Dangerous People in Japan

Driving is an important and unavoidable part of my life in Japan.  I live and work in an semi-rural area, where public transportation is inadequate and many of my schools are unreachable without a car (even before the tsunami).  On a good day, my drive to work ranges from 30 minutes to a little over an hour.  These good days are exceptions rather than the rule.

 

Between Miyako and Morioka, there's one artery linking the two cities: Route 106, a two-lane curvy mountainous road with a posted speed limit of 50 kph (although the police officer who stopped me last year said the speed limit is 60), or about 30 mph.  On many parts of this route, you cannot legally overtake by crossing into opposite lane of traffic. However, with so many curves and tunnels, it is very dangerous to overtake in areas where you can legally do so.  Designated passing zones exist, but they are far and few in between, and many local drivers don't use them properly.

Old people are abundant in Miyako.  As drivers, they generally fall into two categories: those who drive super-slow (below or right at posted speed limit) and those who drive rather recklessly.  If you see a little white pickup truck with a yellow license plate, chances are that it's driven by an old male in the first category.  In many cases, they refused to move aside to let anyone pass, due to pride, lack of awareness, etc.  These drivers tend to create long queues behind them, which are nearly impossible to get around if you're a few cars behind such queues.

*Note: Not all old people are bad drivers; there are plenty of bad drivers in all age groups.  Because of local demographics, I have a higher chance of encountering bad drivers who are also old.
 

Besides old people, other dangers to getting somewhere on time include cargo haulers/freight trucks, loggers (big lumber industry in the area), middle-aged "aunties" (fitting the stereotype of Asian women drivers), and the Iwate Kenpoku buses.  The last one is notorious for being pace cars, never going above speed limit.  If you are stuck behind one and thought you were on time before, you're going to be late.

It was an early July Monday.  I was going to one of my farther schools, which takes about an hour with moderate traffic.  I actually woke up on time and left my place at a decent time.  But before I knew it, the perfect storm happened.  Every possible slow-moving vehicle appeared, and I was stuck behind a hotchpotch convoy.

The climax of this mini-drama came about 5 km before my destination.  After turning off the 106, I must go through a series of bridges and tunnels before reaching the school.  One of the tunnels was under construction for some reason, so one lane was closed and traffic from either direction shared the same lane.  Since it was still early (before 8 am), a timed traffic signal regulated traffic instead of a person.

  

I came up to this traffic signal and saw a bright blue arrow, which means go.  However, as I approached the tunnel, headlights were closing fast on the same lane.  With some quick thinking, I pulled into a spot right before the lanes merged.  As the headlights got closer, I recognized the vehicle: the dreaded white mini-pickup.  3 of them, driven by a bunch of grandpas.

  

Later, I figured out what happened.  These traffic signals operate in pairs, one on each end of a construction zone.  Usually, the lights are timed so that when one side turns red, the other side still has 10 seconds before the traffic is supposed to proceed.  This gives vehicles still inside the zone a chance to clear.  However, the locals often ignore that last part, and go within the 10-second window.  My signal must have turned red just as I passed it.  Immediately after, the first truck on the other side went and the others followed.  Luckily, I hadn't entered the tunnel yet, or I would've been dead.

On my way home, I had to pass through those signals from the opposite direction.  I learned my lesson and watched the blue arrow as I passed.  Sure enough, it turned red at the moment when I passed.  Immediately, I did a high-speed reverse that would impress an action movie director.

On the bright side, despite of such a dangerous commute, I made it to my school with 30 seconds to spare.

 

Moments that Count

So I finally have free time to catch up on some writing.  It's summer break, and I think it's a good time to reflect on 1st school term.
 

2nd year in Japan, I got the same schools as last year.  Besides those who graduated, I saw and taught the same students again.

 

Here's one of my most memorable stories: 

 

At one of my elementary schools, one of the 5th graders disappeared from school after summer break last year. Because I taught mainly small schools and classes, it's hard to miss absent kids.  And when it's a combined 5th & 6th grade class with total students in the low single digits, even one absent kid becomes noticeable.

 

At first, I thought she was just sick; kids get sick all the time.  Then, on my next visit a few weeks later, she was absent again.  And next time, absent again.  By then, I began to speculate.  Did she move?  Did she have some kind of long-term illness?  Did she have an accident, or something worse?  No one at the school bothered to tell me anything (they weren't really supposed to), nor did I bother to ask.

In the back of my mind, I thought that I might be the cause of her absence.  It was my first year teaching.  I was far from being a master of children's emotions (i.e. a few kids cried in my classes), nor was I good at explaining things across that ever-present language barrier.  However, I just kept on teaching the other kids on my visits, and prepared materials to include her, in case she comes back.

Then another surprise: her little brother disappeared in the middle of 2nd term.  He was in a lower grade, but I taught every grade in that school (and I still do).  Maybe their family temporarily moved because of her parents' work?  Family issues?  But the more I thought about it, the only thing that made sense was that it was me.  It bothered me, but thankfully not enough to affect my overall work performance.

By the end, no one told me what happened to those two kids, and I didn't ask.  As a contractor, if I was supposed to know something, "they" will tell me.  I just have to work off of whatever information I was given.


Fast-forward to this year.  New school year.  New teachers.  New 1st graders.  First time to visit that particular school. Besides the new youngsters, the siblings came back, now one grade higher than last year.  After my classes, the vice principal told me that I was a hit with all the kids.  He also revealed why the siblings were absent last year: they thought my Japanese counterpart last year was angry and scary, and refused to go to school until he's gone.  By chance, he was transferred to another school, as part of a rotation that all Japanese teachers periodically experience throughout their careers. Hence, they returned.

I was relieved and encouraged.  This incident reminded me why I decided to give up my engineering career to teach English abroad.  It's a good way to start the year.