Yuriko Miyamoto Caltabiano 2009 - Linguistics

Children’s Negotiation of Multicultural Identities and Multiple Languages in Japan:
An Ethnographic Study of Cambodian, Peruvian, and Vietnamese Families
By
YURIKO MIYAMOTO CALTABIANO
B.A. (Sophia University) 1992
M.A. (Sophia University) 1995
DISSERTATION
Submitted in partial satisfaction of the requirements for the degree of
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
in
Linguistics
in the
OFFICE OF GRADUATE STUDIES
of the
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
DAVIS
Approved:
Julia Menard-Warwick
Robert Bayley
Noriko Iwasaki
Committee in Charge
2009
-i-
Children’s Negotiation of Multicultural Identities and Multiple Languages in Japan:
An Ethnographic Study of Cambodian, Peruvian, and Vietnamese Families
Copyright 2009
By
YURIKO MIYAMOTO CALTABIANO
Children’s Negotiation of Multicultural Identities and Multiple Languages in Japan:
An Ethnographic Study of Cambodian, Peruvian, and Vietnamese Families
Abstract
With the sudden increase of foreign residents in Japan, the country has turned into a more
culturally and linguistically diverse community than ever. This study explores how
children of Cambodian, Peruvian, and Vietnamese descent negotiate their multicultural
identities, and use multiple languages in a country accustomed to viewing itself as
homogeneous with one language and one ethnicity. As a number of previous studies have
claimed, in multilingual contexts individuals negotiate their identities when positioned in
particular ways. As such, identities are viewed as multiple, as a site of struggle, and as
changing over time, and their influence on language use has been widely explored in
western contexts. In order to explore multicultural children’s identities and language use
in Japan, ethnographic data were collected through participant-observation in the
Volunteer Home Tutoring program administered by a junior college. Analysis guided by
a language socialization perspective suggests that multicultural children born in Japan
have a strong affiliation with Japan, and that their ability in their parents’ native language
tends to be limited. However, they are socialized to express their multicultural identities
through multiple language use, cultural discursive practices, and participation in
community-related activities. This study has implications for multicultural children, who
are seemingly disadvantaged, to play a role in transforming Japan into a multilingual
nation by extending their display of multicultural identities and use of multiple languages
beyond their homes, to their communities, and to their schools.
ii
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Abstract
ii
Table of Contents
iii
List of Figures
iv
List of Table
v
Acknowledgements
vi
Discourse Transcription Conventions
vii
CHAPTER ONE: Introduction
1
CHAPTER TWO: Literature Review
20
CHAPTER THREE: Research Methodology
61
CHAPTER FOUR: Site and Participants
93
CHAPTER FIVE: Multicultural Children’s Japanese Language
129
CHAPTER SIX: Multicultural Children’s Home Languages
167
CHAPTER SEVEN: Multicultural Children’s Languages at School
208
CHAPTER EIGHT: Multicultural Children’s Negotiation of Identities
268
CHAPTER NINE: Conclusion and Implications
314
REFERENCES
354
APPENDIX ONE: Interview Questions for Family Participants
367
APPENDIX TWO: Interview Questions for School Teachers
369
APPENDIX THREE: Interview Questions for Program Staff Members
371
APPENDIX FOUR: Interview Questions for Student Volunteer Tutors
372
APPENDIX FIVE: Language Attitude Survey for Junior College Students
373
APPENDIX SIX: Picture Book Read at Ngoc’s Home
377
iii
LIST OF FIGURES
CHAPTER TWO
Figure 2-1: Map of Japan
22
CHAPTER FOUR
Figure 4-1: Layout of Taro’s House
107
Figure 4-2: Layout of Rokuro’s Home
116
Figure 4-3: Rules of Living (Photo)
122
Figure 4-4: Layout of Ngoc’s Home
123
Figure 5-1: Taro’s Kanji Practice Sheet
134
Figure 5-2: Rokuro’s Hiragana Practice Sheet
138
Figure 5-3: Katakana Written for Rokuro
139
Figure 5-4: Kanji Written by Rokuro
141
Figure 5-5: A Page from Ngoc’s Notebook
143
Figure 5-6: Sentence Game with Ngoc
163
Figure 7-1: Display of Flags (Photo)
211
Figure 7-2: A Globe Surrounded by Children (Photo)
211
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SEVEN
Figure 7-3: ‘Thank You’ in Different Languages (Photo) 212
Figure 7-4: Students’ Languages and Cultres (Photo)
217
Figure 7-5: Students’ Multiple Languages (Photo)
218
Figure 7-6: World Map and Zodiac Year (Photo)
218
Figure 7-7: National Flags (Photo)
219
Figure 7-8: National Flags with Their Origins (Photo)
219
Figure 7-9: Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia (Photo)
220
Figure 7-10: Booklet in Vietnamese (Photo)
221
iv
LIST OF TABLES
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
Table 2-1: Number of Foreign Residents in Japan
23
Table 2-2: Indo-Chinese Refugees Resettled in Japan
28
Table 3-1: Participants’ Ages and Family Compositions 68
Table 3-2: Focal Participants and Their Data
78
Table 3-3: Timeframe of the Study
84
CHAPTER FIVE
Table 5-1: List of Books
146
CHAPTER SEVEN
Table 7-1: Summary of School Information
222
Table 7-2: Summary of Teacher Information
230
v
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I have benefited immensely from all my brilliant supervisors’ support and advice
in completing this dissertation. Thank you, Professor Julia Menard-Warwick, for your
encouragement and insights of ethnographic research, and your guidance throughout.
Professor Robert Bayley is the one who first sparked my interest in integrating language
socialization framework into the analysis. I would like to thank Professor Noriko Iwasaki
for her long distance consultation from a Japanese language specialist’s perspective.
I am grateful for a student mini-grant award from the UC Davis Second Language
Acquisition Institute which allowed me to return to Japan and spend an extended amount
of time with my participants and conduct follow-up interviews in the fall quarter of 2008.
To my four wonderful fellow students, Ann Kelleher, Silvie Liao, Li-Fen Lin, and
Dionne Soares: sharing and celebrating the milestones of this journey with you kept me
going, and you made my long trips to Davis so enjoyable and memorable.
Ms. Yuko Nishimura transcribed my interview tapes promptly and accurately.
My husband, Marc, read and copyedited this dissertation, and gave me much love,
food, and many, many miles on United. My mother and father raised me bilingual, and
provided me with comfortable accommodation during the field work of this project.
Thank you most of all to the participants of this study, Taro, Rokuro, Ngoc and
their family members, program staff members of the Volunteer Home Tutoring program,
Professor Chaves, Professor Murakami, Ms. Makekawa, and Ms. Adachi. Kyoko
negotiated entry into this program for me. The author of the picture book introduced in
Chapter Nine allowed Marc and I to translate the original Japanese into English.
Permission has been granted orally for the use of her picture book in my dissertation.
vi
DISCOURSE TRANSCRIPTION CONVENTIONS
***
Text omitted
( )
Author’s clarification
(( ))
Gesture, facial expression, voice tone, laughter
[ ]
Author’s comment and translation
xxx
Incomprehensible text
italics Japanese Romanization*
*Japanese words and sounds in this dissertation are transcribed using the Hepburn system
of Romanization, with macrons (e.g. ō) used to symbolize the long vowels. Common
names and places are spelled in the original form.
vii
1
CHAPTER ONE
INTRODUCTION
Where am I? After studying with the child, I am sitting on the floor at a table
covered with Cambodian food; noodles with fresh bean sprouts, cucumber, green onion,
mint, and red curry sauce, stinky grilled fish with sour pickled vegetables, stir fried
vegetables… The TV is playing Cambodian karaoke music and dancing. On the walls are
a picture of Angkor Wat and a painting of rural Cambodian fields. All the conversations
at the table are in Cambodian. The previous day, I was sitting at a dining table where a
whole Peruvian chicken was served directly from a large grill out on their apartment deck
built by the father. A Peruvian drink “INCA KOLA,” a golden colored soft drink with a
flavor similar to bubblegum that tasted vaguely like a cough medicine was served. As we
munched on a little too-salty chicken and sipped on the medicine-like Inca Kola, the
father started his lecture on Peruvian history in Spanish. The following day, I am walking
towards the child’s apartment passing by a sign written in five different languages, all
unfamiliar except one. I arrive at the apartment and three Vietnamese children welcome
me in, where we all sit around a small table on the floor to eat phở, a Vietnamese soup
containing thinly sliced meat and rice-noodles. The child speaks Vietnamese to her aunt
who made the phở, to translate what I had said. Where am I? I was completely
disoriented, in a profoundly pleasant manner. This was the most diverse multicultural
experience I had ever encountered in such a short time span, and I was in the suburbs of
metropolitan city, Tokyo, in Japan.
Is this the same “Japan” I grew up in a few decades ago? More than two
decades ago, I am sitting in a junior high school classroom during English class. As a
2
bilingual kikokukshijo (Japanese returnees from overseas) in English and Japanese, I
dread the English class period because I have to hide my English language proficiency in
front of my friends and the English teacher who cannot speak English. There is another
kikokushijo male student in class who is not well liked by his classmates because his
atypical behavior makes it difficult for him to fit in with the other Japanese. His unusual
appearance does not help, with light brown hair and a very fair skin color, compared to
other Japanese students. The English teacher returns a test which was conducted
previously, and the boy and I secretly exchange eye contact to see who got the higher
score. Despite our fluency in English from our years living abroad, we never could
succeed in getting a perfect 100 score because we hadn’t learned “Japanese English
grammar.” Other than these quick glances with the boy, I was careful not to be associated
with him, because I might suffer the same fate as him, being left out of my peer group
and being bullied. In such a group oriented community where harmony is valued over
individuality, “a stake that sticks out gets hammered down.”1 This was the “Japan” I had
experienced in my childhood where kikokushijo like myself had to suppress their
multiplicities to adjust into this ideologically monocultual society.
It has been over a few decades after my bitter childhood experience as a
kikokushijo, and on the surface Japan appears as a radically different place from my
childhood, with the sudden increase in foreign residents resulting in a multicultural
community. Currently, foreign residents consist of 1.69 percent of the total population in
Japan, a 50 percent increase from a decade earlier. With the drop of birth rates, and an
aging and shrinking population, Japan has no choice but to rely on foreign migration.
Odds are that most Japanese have recently sat in the same row of seats as a foreign
1
English translation of a Japanese proverb 「出る杭は打たれる」“deru kui wa utareru.”
3
resident on a train, and likely even has one as a neighbor. However, it is a completely
different question as to whether those Japanese accept the foreign resident as someone
equal to themselves just the way they are. Some foreign residents change their nationality
to Japanese so that they will be treated equally at work. Some children learn Japanese
rapidly and forget their home language in order to survive at school. Is Japan going to
hold on to the ideology of monolingualism, or does Japan have a future vision of
multilingualism at all? I certainly hope for the latter.
This study addresses multilingualism in Japan. To many, Japan as a
multilingual nation may still seem like a contradiction. Both inside and outside of the
country, Japan, as a nation, has often been viewed and presented as monolingual and its
people as highly homogeneous. The Japanese language is standardized and its culture
appears to be uniform and unique. In fact, many Japanese and Western scholars from the
late 1940s through the 1970s attempted to explain the peculiarities of “the Japanese” and
their works came to be known as “Nihonjinron [theories about the Japanese]” (Benedict,
1946/1989; Doi, 1971; Reischauer, 1977). Even after a decade of increasing movement
across the nation’s borders and the scholarly efforts of describing Japan as a multicultural
nation, this image of Japan as a monolith has still not broken down. At this time, a focus
on individuals who came across the nation’s borders to settle in Japan is critical to
understand the nature of multiculturalism in Japan, of which statistics and surveys are not
able to give a nuanced picture, but only give a superficial view.
The subject of this study is multicultural children of Cambodian, Peruvian, and
Vietnamese parentage born and living in Japan. They are descendants of migrants who
came to Japan in the flow of refugee movement (Cambodian and Vietnamese), and
4
reverse labor migration (Peruvian), and live in Japan as legal residents. This is an
ethnographic study of how the children born in Japan to the migrants use multiple
languages, and express their multicultural identities in everyday lives. I portray the stories
of their language and identity development processes negotiated through immediate
interactions and discursive practices in multiple dimensions of their lives in Japan. The
stories are given from the perspective of a volunteer home tutor (the researcher) who
participated in a college educational program to support the learning of Japanese and
other school subjects by children of resident foreign nationals and their families.
This ethnographic study illuminates three large issues in the field of education
and linguistics. First, this qualitative study in Japan provides a comparative contrast for
the extensive work on minority language education in developed Western societies. Both
the universality and the contextual specifics are informed by comparison to these
previous works. Specifically, multiethnic Western immigrant education measures
stimulate the Japanese counterpart and influence its policies to deal with the increasing
ethnic diversity. Conversely, the Japanese instance of minority resurgence, such as the
indigenous people of Hokkaido, Korean descendants living and thriving in Japan, and the
participants in this study, provides alternative perspectives to multilingualism. Taking
into account the historically and socio-culturally distinctive backgrounds, the Western
standard notion of multicultural experience needs to be modified in Japan. This crosscultural point of view is explored throughout the dissertation in relevant discussions.
Second, theoretically, this investigation exemplifies the key importance of
understanding multicultural children’s identity and language issues, which is
understudied. Specifically, in Japan, the foreign students’ assimilation results from the
5
peer’s social framing of their “foreignness” as not fitting in, at the same time, being
labeled as inferior to the standard in the politics of school. Likewise, the minority
children’s language burdens rest heavily on their small shoulders when they are
positioned as「中途半端なバイリンガル」“chūtohanpa na bairingaru” [half-way
bilinguals]. However, they do not have to be passive recipients of obstacles, but can be
tactically active agents. The seemingly disadvantaged foreign students can position
themselves as who they wish to be in the earliest years of their childhood. This issue is
articulated in more detail in the findings chapter.
Third, this descriptive ethnographic report is conducive to the understandings of
the home language socialization practices of foreign language minority students in
everyday lives of Japan. Due to the lack of ethnographic studies in the homes of
multicultural children, their experiences in Japanese everyday lives have been virtually
unexplored, despite their expanding residence in the country. The recent fact finding
inquiry in Japanese school sites has produced many surveys, questionnaires, and
journalistic reports, as well as a few recent ethnographic fieldwork. This ethnographic
study has the value of firsthand knowledge of children at home, and takes the lead in
bridging the gap between home and school. This viewpoint is addressed in the concluding
chapter as educational and research implications.
Before moving on to the main part of the dissertation, I introduce discussions of
terminological issues, focusing on children’s languages and their identities.
Terminological issues are very much related to language attitudes and ideologies, and this
is an appropriate place to discuss this issue, before I start using certain terminologies. In
addition, since the myth of Japanese homogeneity has long existed, there is a lack of
6
appropriate terminologies to discuss multiple languages and multicultural identities in
Japanese. Here, these issues will be contextualized in Japanese social backgrounds of
accelerated foreign migration and broadening ethnic diversity. Subsequently, I introduce
my criteria for choosing one terminology over the other throughout this dissertation.
Thereafter, I explain the significance of investigating these themes in contemporary
Japanese society.
1.1 Language Issues of Increasing Multicultural Children
I chose not to call multicultural children in my study “bilinguals” for various
reasons. First of all, the children will be learning English as a third language in public
elementary school in a few years, and therefore may become “multilinguals.” In 2008, the
Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Sciences, and Technology (MEXT,
Monbukagakushō in Japanese) announced a new educational guideline, according to
which foreign language study and activity in public elementary schools in Japan was to
be introduced (Nishida & Yashima, 2009). The government has decided to introduce
compulsory English education for fifth and sixth graders in the school year starting April
2011. Given this reality, it is indisputable that English has established itself as a global
language in Japan. At this juncture, some believe students should be encouraged to learn
a second foreign language in addition to English and Japanese. Multicultural children of
this study are no exception, and some of them are highly motivated to acquire English as
a third language.
Secondly, multicultural children of this study were not always considered
“bilinguals” in emic terms in Japan. To Japanese people, the term “bilingual” only refers
to “elite bilinguals” (Skutnabb-Kangas, 1981), who have a rather strong command of at
7
least the speaking and listening skills in two languages, and preferably all four skills, and
the two languages refer to English and Japanese (Yamamoto, 2001). The children of this
study did not all have a good command of two languages, and the second language was
not English as a growing global language, but rather a minority language (Cambodian,
Spanish, and Vietnamese) with little or no linguistic capital in Japan. During my course
of fieldwork in Japan, I rarely encountered this terminology in the discourse about
multicultural children, except when school teachers expressed their concerns about them
being “中途半端な chutohanpa na [half-way] bilinguals.”
Thirdly, since my focal children had different language backgrounds
(Cambodian, Spanish, and Vietnamese), I did not want to confuse the readers into
focusing on two specific languages by referring to them as “bilinguals.” Since the
children’s languages were different, I needed to find a common terminology to refer to
their languages. Two languages of bilinguals have been termed in different manners
depending on the circumstances. First language versus second language, mother tongue
versus foreign language, native language versus foreign language, heritage language
versus second language, minority language versus majority language, stronger language
versus weaker language, home language versus community language, just to name a few.
Here, I will discuss in which circumstances these terminologies are employed and the
appropriateness and inappropriateness of using them for multicultural children in this
study.
“First” versus “second” language
The term “second” is generally used to refer to any language in relation to the
“first” language. However, the definitions of these terms are not always clear and
8
constant. “First language” can mean “first language acquired” or “dominant language of
the speaker.” Correspondingly, “second language” would mean “second language
acquired” or “weaker language of the speaker.” It is easy to imagine that these two
definitions are not appropriate in some settings. For example, a child acquired
Cambodian as his “first language” in Japan. As he began attending nursery school, he
learned Japanese as his “second language.” Slowly Japanese became to be his dominant
language, as his Cambodian stopped developing. Now, which is his “first language”?
In addition, the term “second,” when applied to some learning settings, may be perceived
as unequal to the “first language.” In such settings, the term “additional language” may
be both more appropriate and acceptable (Ellis, 1994). However, neither of these terms
does justice to the multicultural children in this study.
“Native” versus “second” language
In addition to the issues of ambiguity raised above, the term “native” gives the
impression of the speaker being a “native speaker” of the language. It is argued that this
term is not acceptable or appropriate because the term fails to recognize, for instance, the
many varieties of English in other countries, and the accompanying term “non-native
speaker” is offensive to those who have learnt the language as a second or foreign
language and achieved “bilingual” status as fluent proficient users (Jenkins, 2000).
Moreover, there is no equivalent direct translation of this term in Japanese. “Native
language” or “native tongue” is often translated into Japanese as 母語 bogo [mother
language] or 第一言語 daiichi gengo [first language]. Therefore, this term is not an emic
term in Japan.
“Mother tongue” versus “second” language
9
“Mother tongue,” literally 母語 bogo is the emic term most commonly used in
Japan. School teachers refer to multicultural children’s languages as “mother tongue,”
and 母語保持 bogo hoji [mother tongue maintenance], or 母語保持教室 bogo hoji
kyōshitsu [mother tongue maintenance class] are commonly heard. “Mother tongue” is
appropriate for those newcomer students who have acquired their language in their home
country, and then came to Japan as 1.5 generations. For them, their “mother tongue” is
their dominant language, therefore, “mother tongue maintenance” is meaningful and
possible. However, if you refer to multicultural children’s language as their “mother
tongue,” it will give a wrong impression that it is their dominant language, which is not
the case.
“Heritage” versus “second” language
In her book on bilingual education in Japan, Nakajima (1998) refers to
multicultural children’s languages as 継承語 keishōgo [heritage language] and 第二言語
daini gengo [second language] when discussing their bilingual education. Use of the term
“heritage” has increased in the US in the mid 1990s to describe learners with some home
background in the language of study in educational contexts (Kelleher, 2008; KondoBrown, 2008), and it is used to refer to the learners’ language ability. Therefore, perhaps
it is appropriate to use this term in bilingual educational context in Nakajima’s book.
However, in this study multicultural children’s languages are not offered at school.
Moreover, “heritage language” in Japanese is not used commonly in Japan. Even school
teachers did not know the term 継承語 keishōgo [heritage language]. After I realized this
fact, I quickly stopped using this terminology in Japan.
“Home” versus “community” language
10
These terms come from strategies used to promote childhood bilingualism,
referred to as the home language/ community language method, as opposed to one
person/ one language method (Romaine, 1989/ 1995). In this non-dominant home
language strategy, both parents speak a minority language in the home and the children
learn the majority language in the outside community. This strategy is natural for
immigrant families, whereas one person/ one language strategy is most often suggested
for mixed-marriage couples. Although these terms are used for such strategies, I chose
the term “home language” to refer to multicultural children’s language in this study.
These terms seemed most appropriate focusing on the use of the languages, rather than
their proficiencies, especially because they were spoken mostly at home. However, when
referring to previous research, I will employ the terms used in the original text. Another
exception is when analyzing data, emic terms will be employed.
1.2 Identity Issues of Increasing Multicultural Children
Another terminological issue is how to refer to the multicultural children and
their families. In the western contexts, they would be naturally called “immigrants.”
However, in Japan, they are not called “immigrants” (Ōno, 2008). They are most
commonly termed 外国人 gaikokujin [foreigners]. In the media, you hear the news about
“foreign workers.” This is because “foreign workers” in Japan are not necessarily
“permanent residents,” and “immigrant” is such an ambiguous term. There is no clear
definition of how “permanent” a resident’s stay must be in order to qualify as an
“immigrant.” This clearly shows the Japanese attitudes towards “foreigners,” that they
view them as “outsiders” whose permanent homes are not considered to be in Japan, and
the Japanese ideology of keeping the country homogeneous.
11
The more serious terminological issue is the derogatory use of the shortened
form of 外国人 gaikokujin [foreigner]” as 外人 gaijin. “Gaikokujin” is composed of
“gaikoku [foreign country]” and “jin [person],” and the word literally means “foreigncountry person.” The word was only introduced and popularized by the Meiji government
(1868-1911) that united the feudal states in Japan as one nation. It was used to refer to
people outside the Empire of Japan, as opposed to 内国人 naikokujin [inside country
people] to refer to people of the Empire, including Korea and Taiwan. Before that,
Westerners were known as 南蛮人 nanbanjin [southern barbarians], 異人 ijin [different
people], 異国人 ikokujin [different country people], or 異邦人 ihōjin [different
motherland people]. While other terms fell out of use after World War II, “gaikokujin”
remained as the official government term for non-Japanese people. In fact, the word
“gaijin” was initially not applied to foreigners. It was used to refer to outsiders or
potential enemies (Shinmura, 1998). However, the term “gaijin” began to be viewed as
having racial overtones apart from the original word “gaikokujin” among westerners who
used to constitute a significant majority of “foreigners” in Japan (Buckley, 2002).
Therefore, the term has become politically incorrect, and is avoided now by most
Japanese television broadcasts and media. Clearly, when multicultural children are
bullied at school by being called “gaijin,2” it is negative, derogatory in connotation, and
thus offensive.
In educational scenes, such sensitivity toward word choice can be sensed from
different terminologies used to refer to multicultural children. The most commonly used
is the term 外国籍児童 gaikokuseki jidō [foreign nationality children].” However, this
2
It has been pointed out that this word actually translates well into Spanish as ‘gringo’ but there is no
equivalent translation in English.
12
terminology does not include multicultural children who have obtained Japanese
nationality through naturalization. Similarly, another term 外国から来た生徒 gaikoku
kara kita seito [students from foreign countries] excludes those who were born in Japan.
Therefore, a phrase which encompasses a wider range of children is 外国につながる子
ども gaikoku ni tsunagaru kodomo [children connected to foreign countries], or 外国に
ルーツを持つ子ども・ルーツのある子ども gaikoku ni rūtsu o motsu kodomo/ rūtsu
no aru kodomo [children who have roots to foreign countries]. Or 定住外国人の子ども
teijū gaikokujin no kodomo [children of permant resident foreigners], avoiding to call
children as “foreigners.” When referring to their language abilities, they are called 日本
語指導が必要な生徒 nihongoshidō ga hitsuyōna seito [students in need of Japanese
language instructions]. The Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and
Technology use the more official and straight forward term 外国人児童 gaikokujin jidō
[foreign children]. In this study, the term “multicultural children” is used to refer to
“children connected to foreign countries,” regardless of their nationality. This is to align
with the terminology “multilingual,” consciously avoiding the terms “bilingual” or
“bicultural.” Again, in reviewing previous studies, terms used in original texts will be
employed, and data analysis will be discussed in emic terms.
1.3 Significance of Explaining Multicultural Children’s Language and Identity
Corresponding to this societal transitional stage in Japan, which is reflected in
the controversial choices of terminologies discussed above, exploring multicultural
children’s language and identity issues take on particular significance to enhance
multilingualism in Japanese schools and society. Their background of being born and
13
raised in Japan and possibly choosing permanent residency sheds light on underlying
issues of coexistence with Japanese people. How can they coexist with Japanese people
without having to abandon their languages and identities? Such inquiry and effort to
answer this question is beneficial to three different parties with various perspectives. The
first party is the multicultural children and their family themselves, the second is the
Japanese society, and the third is a group of minorities who have already been
marginalized in the society.
First, from the multicultural children and their families’ perspective, it is useful
to know how the enrichment of the children’s languages and identities will affect their
development as global citizens of the future. In western contexts, studies of the
immigrants show that the first generation has difficulty learning the target language, the
second generation becomes bilingual, and by the third generation their heritage language
is lost (Hakuta, 1986; Hoffman, 1991/1998). If that is the case for multicultural children
in Japan, the second generation children are the key to maintaining their languages and
cultures to the next generations. However, often times, Japanese educators are so focused
on children’s adaptation to the school system that the only effort and help they provide
are Japanese language education, driven by good intentions and belief that this is the best
and only solution for the children. Supposedly, their assimilation in Japanese school
systems produces numerous youths who are monolingual and monocultural, which is not
necessarily the Japanese educators’ intended result. These youths may behave exactly
like any other Japanese students in school. However, internally they will experience an
identity crisis, not being able to communicate with their family in their home languages
which are devalued in the society (Nakajima, 1998). Not only will Japanese society be
14
producing a large number of dysfunctional families who cannot communicate across
generations, but also will be losing a wealth of linguistic resources which is so valuable
in this global world.
Secondly, from the perspectives of the Japanese society, it is beneficial to
understand the extent to which multicultural children acquire and use their home
languages in Japan. By nurturing and valuing multiple languages, the children will grow
up to be multilingual citizens who can play the role of achieving a multicultural nation. In
addition, by acknowledging their existence and languages younger generation Japanese
will develop increased interest in studying multiple languages, besides English as an
“international language.” For the youth, having the opportunity to interact and become
friends with multicultural children and their families is a wonderful cultural experience
which can be encountered right in Japan, just like my experience. In this way, Japan will
be able to achieve a true multicultural community, and to break the illusory myth as a
monolingual nation.
Thirdly, awareness of current multicultural children’s languages and identities
draws attention to other co-existing minorities3 who do not share the same background
with the dominant mainstream Japanese. The inflow of “newcomer”4 foreign students
into the Japanese school system has triggered reconsideration of “oldcomer” Korean
descendents’ minority education which sustains their ethnic identity through language
3
Another minority group in Japan are the 部落民 Burakumin, who are descendants of outcast communities
in the feudal era, which mainly comprised those with ‘impure’ occupations such as executioners,
undertakers, or tanners. They are a social minority group, not ethnic, discriminated against within Japanese
society. However, their discrimination includes such matters as marriage and employment, not so much in
education, and will not be addressed here.
4
Some researchers do not like the terms “newcomer” and “oldcomer” since they imply that the “comers”
came with their own will, and fail to recognize those who were forced to come. Terms such as “oldtimer”
and “newtimer” are suggested but not commonly used. Here, I will use “oldcomer” to refer to those who
came before World War II, and “newcomer” to those who came after, and the “comers” intentions are not
taken into consideration (Sakuma, 2006).
15
and cultural maintenance. Likewise, building cultural sensitivity to new multicultural
children may increase understanding of the old classmates with different cultural
backgrounds who has always been around but invisible in some cases. In particular, the
study of different multicultural children has implications for the social issue of
kikokushijo, Japanese returnee students, whose atypical behaviors influenced by overseas
living experience is often viewed negatively by Japanese students. Lastly, there are
Japanese children who face 不登校 futōkō or 登校拒否 tōkō kyohi [school refusal, refusal
of attending school due to emotional distress] which has been a social issue since the
1950s, who can benefit from the findings of multicultural children’s experiences in
schools. It is about time Japanese school systems recognize that each and every Japanese
child is different and multicultural, and their individuality should not be ignored and
abandoned (Sakuma, 2006).
In this way, the focus on multicultural children’s multiple identities entails
ideological significance in terms of Japanese homogeneity. Identification of multicultural
children born in Japan as non-Japanese “foreigners” must be challenged, as the ordinary
perception of “Japaneseness” imagined as the coincidence of Japanese birthplace, blood,
and nationality is no longer guaranteed. This is also true in the case of naturalized
Japanese with foreign ethnicity. The requirement for Japanese recognition is too
restrictive in the changing society, and it needs to be re-conceptualized to become more
tolerant for current and future new citizens (Morita, 2002). In addition to this reconceptualization, there needs to be appropriate terminologies to describe children’s
16
multiple backgrounds, such as Japanese-American or Japanese-Peruvian5, commonly
used in the western contexts.
Finally, regarding the educational program of providing support to children of
foreign nationals and their families, inquiries into how such local community efforts can
play a role in achieving a multicultural society is beneficial. In fact, there are other
university-based volunteer activities where graduate students are sent to local schools to
assist children who need Japanese language instructions (Miyazaki, 2006). Despite such
local efforts and recognition of multicultural children’s educational needs, the Japanese
government continues to be uncertain and slow in answering to their needs. On the other
hand, since the government’s assistance is so scarce and unpredictable, it is predicted that
such neighboring institutional efforts plays especially an important role in filling this gap
of lack of measures toward integrating multicultural children into the society.
Moreover, this particular educational program has potential in its unique activity
style. Since the Japanese tutors go into the homes of the multicultural children and their
family, the children have a special advantage of being in the safe environments of their
homes. Therefore, in this comfortable zone children are able to express their true
identities and behave just like they would in front of their families. Although Japanese
tutors are outsiders, eliminating the anxiety of being outside of their territory gives them
optimal opportunities for the children to engage in personal cultural discourses with a
Japanese person. From the Japanese tutors’ perspectives, this activity provides them with
5
Nowadays, such terminologies as ブラジル系日本人 Burajiru-kei Nihon-jin [Brazilian Japanese] or ペル
ー系日本人 Perū-kei Nihon-jin [Peruvian-Japanese] are starting to show up in written contexts. However,
they are very limited in use and variety. Another term encountered was 在日ベトナム系児童 Zainichi
Betonamu-kei jidō [Japan resident Vietnamese child], used by a researcher.
17
valuable educational practicum to experience teaching children as well as experience
different cultures in their neighborhood.
To conclude, multicultural children’s issues hold a clue for fostering diversity of
ethnically and culturally different participants in Japanese schools and society. The
understanding of such issues will result in increasing awareness of coexistent culturally
diverse groups within Japanese populace. Multicultural children’s acceptance in Japanese
schools and society is especially influential for their future and their parents who are
considering permanent residence as an option. Thus, the study of multicultural children in
Japan contributes to the forecast of the country’s prospective multilingualism. At this
time, a full scale ethnographic research is essential to intensively explore multicultural
individuals’ everyday experiences for specific practical suggestions, to integrate them
into the Japanese society as the way they are, who can contribute to transforming Japan
into a multilingual nation.
1.4 Overview of the dissertation
In Chapter Two, I begin by describing multiculturalism in Japan in order to situate
my study socio-historically. This is followed by a critical review of the studies on
multicultural children’s education in Japan. This chapter also includes literature review
on the primary theoretical framework of this study; language socialization, language and
identity, and language attitudes and ideologies.
Chapter Three discusses my methodological framework, including the objectives
of the study, research questions, research site, the process of negotiating access to the
program, the families, and the schools, my socio-cultural positioning in the site and my
18
personal relationships with the families. This chapter also includes the description of data
collection and analysis.
Chapter Four offers more details about the site and the participants. The focal
participants of this study are the children of multicultural families; Cambodian Taro,
Peruvian Rokuro, and Vietnamese Ngoc. This chapter gives an overview of the family
members, life histories of their migration, current living situations, and their participation
in the college educational program; the Volunteer Home Tutoring program.
Chapter Five is my first data analysis chapter, and it deals with multicultural
children’s Japanese language and literacy during the tutoring sessions at home. I draw
heavily on fieldnotes from participant-observation of tutoring sessions, and interviews
with children and family members to illustrate how children are socialized through the
use of language and to use language.
In Chapter Six, I sketch out multicultural children’s use of home languages and
their family members’, particularly their parents’ linguistic repertoires. This chapter was
also drawn heavily on fieldnotes and interviews to focus on how home language use
environment reveals children’s opportunities to use their languages, and consequently
their maintenance.
In Chapter Seven, I move into multicultural children’s classrooms in elementary
schools. Children’s languages are examined through classroom observations as well as
through teachers’ interview responses. Classroom observations were conducted in two
settings; regular classes and pull-out instruction classes called kokusai class or
“international class.”
19
In Chapter Eight, I look more closely at the negotiation of multicultural children’s
identities which emerged during interactions with the volunteer home tutor and other
multiple participants. I analyze the interactions of the children during the tutoring
sessions and interviews to examine how they express, negotiate, and construct their
multiple identities.
In Chapter Nine, I summarize the findings in the light of how they might be
applicable to educators and researchers in other settings, and what they reveal about
possible future directions for language education and successful integration of
multicultural children in Japan and around the world. This chapter includes the promotion
of the college educational program; Volunteer Home Tutoring program.
20
CHAPTER TWO
LITERATURE REVIEW
The increasing importance of multicultural children’s education in Japan has
triggered debates about their language and identity development (Nakajima, 1998).
However, the substance of the academic studies disproportionately relies on written
questionnaires and arranged interviews in data collection and only displays the results
and responses (Morita, 2002). There is little ethnographic study on the theme of
newcomer students, and only one was found on multicultural children who were born in
Japan. In addition, previous research, including fieldwork studies, tends to assume the
deficits of the current educational systems and simply criticizes Japanese schooling and
society. Such criticism falls short of the standard for practical application to multicultural
children’s education. This chapter discusses relevant literature on the research topic, and
demonstrates the rationale for this study.
First, I describe multiculturalism in Japan in order to situate my study sociohistorically. Special attention is paid to two current waves of migration, namely war
refugees from Southeast Asia and workers of Japanese descent from South America. This
is to provide the historical background of the three focal families of this study, migrating
from Cambodia, Vietnam, and Peru. Second, I evaluate the studies on multicultural
children’s education as mentioned above. Both extremes of questionnaire-oriented studies
and ethnographic research will be presented. Third, I offer the primary framework of
language socialization within which I examine identity. Fourth, I further specify the
theoretical framework of language and identity research. Fifth, I review language attitude
and ideology studies relevant in discussing multiculturalism in Japan. Finally, I justify
21
my study in preparation to articulate research questions in the following methodology
chapter.
2.1 Diversity in Japan
Japan is a nation accustomed to viewing itself as homogeneous with one language
and one ethnicity. However, it is an ideological myth which can be easily proven to be
false by considering its history. It is well documented in Japanese history that there were
foreign missionaries from Portugal in Japan as early as the Muromachi period (13361573) who studied Japanese and wrote dictionaries and grammar books (Miller, 1967).
Even the 200 years of sakoku policy (foreign relations policy under which no Japanese or
foreigner could enter or leave the country) from the 17th to 19th century are now believed
to be an ideological construct, which some historians have abandoned using in their
textbooks (Shintani, 2008). According to the experts, the Edo period (1603-1867) cannot
necessarily be termed the sakoku period. Japan was not completely isolated in East Asia,
keeping its relationships through Korea, Ryukyu (current Okinawa, southern island of
Japan), China, and Ezochi (current Hokkaido, northern island of Japan), not to mention
the well known trade relation with Holland. In addition, Nagasaki which is taught to be
the only open port during that period was not the only one. Japan had three other open
ports in Matsumae (in Hokkaido), Tsushima (an island off Nagasaki), and Satsuma (in
Kagoshima, see Figure 2-1 for a map of Japan). Even though foreigners were restricted
from travel to other parts of Japan, the sakoku policy can be viewed as an ideology to
support the nation’s cultural peculiarity. This ideology is also exploited to explain and
blame Japan’s delay in modernization. As a matter of fact, the terminology sakoku was
22
not coined until 1801 in a translation of the book “The history of Japan” written by
Kaempfer, a physician to the Dutch embassy (Tashiro & Videen, 1982).
Figure 2-1: Map of Japan (www.map-of-japan.org)
23
After the so-called sakoku policy, open port Yokohama became a multicultural
city. During the Meiji period (1868-1912), westerners who were invited by the Japanese
government to stay in Japan long term increased to approximately 10,000 (Long, 1998).
The number of foreign residents steadily grew, and currently the largest minority group in
Japan is the Chinese community, including the families of Chinese war orphans,
surpassing the community of Korean descendants which continued to be the largest group
historically up until 2007. There are communities of westerners, including those who
have become naturalized Japanese citizens. The Ainu (ethnic group living mainly in
Hokkaido) has always contributed to the diversity in Japan, although the number of
speakers of the language is limited today. Residents of Indian descent have reached 5,000
in metropolitan areas such as Kobe, Yokohama, and Okinawa. Many refugees from
Vietnam have been naturalized as Japanese citizens, contributing to the difficulty in
estimating their number. Foreign workers who support the labor force in Japan are mainly
Japanese Brazilians and Peruvians. Many Filipina women work in such industries as
entertainment, often resulting in international marriages with Japanese men. Most
recently, the government is accepting certified care workers from the Philippines (and
Indonesia) to support the aging population, and the number is expected to rise. Therefore,
the myth that Japan is a homogeneous society has slowly begun to shatter, as can be seen
in the Table 2-1 below.
Table 2-1: Number of Foreign Residents in Japan (Hōmushō, 2007)
Country China
Korea
Brazil
Philippine Peru
Others Total
Number 606,889 593,489 316,967 202,592
59,696 373,340 2,152,973*
Percent 28.2
27.6
14.7
9.4
2.8
17.3
100
*1.69 percent of total population of 127,771,000.
24
Chinese migration to Japan goes back a long way in history, and the families of
the repatriated war orphans only constitute a small percentage of total Chinese residents
in Japan. However, because of their political nature and media coverage, they have
attracted much attention. In the aftermath of World War II, many children were left
behind by Japanese families repatriating from Northeast China to Japan. After the
normalization of Sino-Japanese relations in 1972, many war orphans and their families
have repatriated to Japan with the assistance of the Japanese government (Tomozawa,
2001). However, their entire lives were spent in China, and many have little memory of
their Japanese family and language. Therefore, many of them experience difficulty
integrating into Japanese society. In Tokorozawa, Saitama, is the ‘Chūgoku Kikokusha
Teijūsokushin Sentā’ (Chinese Returnees Integration Center) where many returnees and
their families stay and live during the first four months after arriving in Japan. Here, they
receive Japanese language training and prepare for integration into society (Chūgoku
Kikokusha Teijūsokushin Sentā, 2009).
Among these Chinese returnees are the repatriates from Sakhalin, Russia’s largest
island north of Japan, whose primary language is Russian6. From the 16th century
onwards, people from both Japan and Russia tried to colonize the island from different
directions. After the Russo-Japanese War, Russia and Japan signed a treaty in 1905,
which resulted in the southern part of the island reverting to Japan. South Sakhalin was
administered by Japan as Karafuto-chō, with the capital Toyohara, today’s Yuzhno6
Learning Russian as a foreign language, I signed up for a Russian-Japanese language exchange which is
offered once or twice every six months at the center. However, there were no Sakhalin returnees at the time
of my stay in Japan, and I participated in Japanese practice training with the Chinese returnees which is
offered four times every six months. The language students ranged from young to old, those from the city
to country side, and they all engaged enthusiastically in language activities with Japanese people from
outside the center whom they meet for the first time, together we visited shopping malls, restaurants, and
McDonald’s, for the first time for some of them.
25
Sakhalinsk, and had a large number of migrants from Japan. During the last days of
World War II, the former Soviet Union took over control of Sakhalin. A significant
number of Japanese residents evacuated to Japan, but the remainder stayed behind
(Forsyth, 1992). The first returnee from Sakhalin repatriated to Japan in 1991, and the
number totaled to 201 in 2007 (Chūgoku Kikokusha Teijūsokushin Sentā, 2009).
Historically, Koreans constituted the largest ethnic minority group in Japan. In the
early 20th century, under Imperial Japanese rule all Korean people became subjects of the
Empire of Japan, and many came to Japan for work. After the war, Koreans who
remained in Japan were provisionally treated as foreign nationals. To avoid
discrimination, new generation Koreans sought naturalization. They were only allowed to
speak Japanese in public, and were forced to give up their names and adopt Japanese
names. Even if they did not become naturalized Japanese, more than 91% used tsūshōmei
(normally used name), or a Japanese-sounding name so that they do not have to
constantly identify themselves as foreigners (Cary, 2001). The government’s assimilation
policy was directed towards the elimination of Korean ethnic consciousness, and their
presence as an ethnic group in Japan was almost “erased” (Irvine & Gal, 2000). However,
over the decades, Koreans have been campaigning, with success, to regain their rights to
vote, to take up government positions, and to educate their children in Korean schools.
One of the first peoples to be assimilated was the Ainu, an ethnic group
indigenous to Hokkaido, Kuril islands, and Sakhalin, Russian islands north of Japan. The
exact figure of this group is not known, as many Ainu hide their origin due to racial issues.
In many cases, surviving Ainu may not be even aware of their ancestry, as their parents
and grandparents kept their descent secret in order to protect their children from social
26
problems. The Ainu had lived in Hokkaido and further north for hundreds of years. When
the Meiji government came to power in 1868, with the Japanese settlement of Hokkaido
increasing pace, Ainu land was redistributed to Japanese farmers. Ainu language7 and
cultural practices were banned and children were put into Japanese schools. Japanese
names became compulsory, and their “erasure” (Irvine & Gal, 2000) was almost
complete with only 15 fluent Ainu language speakers remaining in 1996. It was not until
2008 that the government of Japan gave the Ainu formal recognition (Fogarty, 2008).
Today, many of them dislike the term Ainu due to its derogatory nuance, and prefer to
identify themselves as Utari, which means “comrade” in their language. In the 1980s, a
cultural revitalization movement was spread by the Hokkaido Utari Kyōkai (Hokkaido
Ainu Association), and language programs were established (Anderson & IwasakiGoodman, 2001).
At the other end of the islands of Japan are the southern islands of Okinawa that
were inhabited by the indigenous Ryukyuans. In the 12th century, the islands were unified
as the Ryukyuan Kingdom. During the Meiji period (1868-1912), the kingdom was
formally abolished and Okinawa prefecture was established. In the years leading up to
World War II, the Japanese government sought to reinforce national solidarity among the
people of Okinawa in the interests of militarization. The government promoted
“Standard” Japanese language education in the school system, and banned the use of the
Ryukyuan language8. One of the most notorious forms of punishment for the use of the
banned language was the so-called hōgen-fuda ‘dialect tag’ which had to be worn around
7
The Ainu language is different from the Japanese language in its syntax, morphology, phonology,
vocabulary, and is considered a language isolate (Shibatani, 1990).
8
Ryukyuan language is in the branch of Japonic language family, and is considered a “dialect” of Japanese
(Matsumori, 1995).
27
the neck by the last pupil to have used the Ryukyuan at school (Midori, 2001). Even
though Ryukyuan language can be viewed as a variety of Japanese, language ideology of
what a language ought to be played a crucial role in the language shift processes in the
islands. During the Battle of Okinawa in 1945¸ the only land battle in Japan during World
War II, speaking the standard language became a matter of survival. The Ryukyuans who
did not speak standard Japanese were believed to be spies or disloyal to Japan, or both,
and were often killed as a result (Moriguchi, 2005). After World War II, the Okinawa
islands were occupied by the US, until in 1972 when they were returned to Japan. Ever
since then, Ryukyuans have had to bear the presence of US military on their islands which
caused intense resentment towards the perceived second-class treatment by the Japanese
government, and discrimination by mainland Japanese (Tanji, 2006). In the 1990s,
Ryukyuan identity and pride underwent a strong resurgence and validation, gaining
awareness and respect for their distinct culture.
These assimilation policies and the myth of national uniformity had portrayed
Japan as a homogeneous nation, despite the long history of language and cultural
diversity outlined above. By the 1990s, the myth of homogeneity had slowly begun to
shatter as the older ethnic groups such as the Koreans, Utari (Ainu) and Ryukyuans found
new voices, great influxes of newer migrants added a stronger multicultural flavor
throughout the country, and more research focused on Japan’s newcomers. However, the
long bitter history and education of assimilation and discrimination against diversity has
created an obstacle for Japan to plan and promote Tabunka kyōsei “Multicultural
coexistence,” a term which has picked up momentum in use since the 1980s (Noyama,
28
2008). Had Japan dealt with diversity more seriously in the past9, it would not be facing
the same educational and social challenges it is against today, with the sudden arrival of
the new migrants introduced in the following sections.
2.1.1 Refugees from Southeast Asia
In 1978, the government of Japan made a decision to adopt a strategy for
resettlement of Indo-Chinese refugees in Japan. Indo-Chinese refugees are people who
escaped by boat, as boat people, or neighboring countries by land, to avoid political
disturbance and internal warfare, following the end of the Vietnam War in 1975, from
three Indo-Chinese countries: Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia. In 1979, the government
entrusted the work of resettlement to the Foundation for the Welfare and Education of the
Asian People, and the Refugee Assistance Headquarters (RHQ) was set up under the
Foundation. The RHQ opened four Resettlement Promotion Centers, in Himeji (Hyogo),
Yamato (Kanagawa), Omura (Nagasaki), and Shinagawa (Tokyo). Upon arrival in Japan,
the refugees were provided full social services, such as accommodation, education, health
and vocational training at these centers to promote their independence. Japan had
accepted more than 11,000 refugees, which ended in March 2005 (See Table 2-2 below).
Considering that approximately 1.3 million Indo-Chinese refugees have resettled in
countries such as the United States, Australia, and Canada, including Japan (Nanmin
Jigyō Honbu, 2008), this is a rather small number.
Table 2-2: Indo-Chinese Refugees Resettled in Japan (As of December 2005)
Vietnamese 8,656
Cambodian
1,357
Laotian
1,306
Total
11,319
9
Sakuma (2006) specifically points out that the origin of foreign students’ exclusion in the Japanese
schools can be traced back to the unfair treatment of Korean residents in education in the past.
29
Refugees from Cambodia
From 1975, Cambodia was ruled by the communist ruling political party, the
Khmer Rouge, led by Pol Pot (1928-1998), a prime minister of Cambodia from 1976 to
1979. The regime immediately evacuated the cities, and sent the entire population on
forced marches to rural work projects. They attempted to rebuild the country by modeling
on the agriculture of the 11th century. They discarded Western medicine, destroyed
temples, libraries, and anything considered Western. Over a million Cambodians died
from executions, overwork, starvation, and disease. Those killed by the Khmer Rouge
regime itself are estimated to range from approximately one to three million people. The
regime disproportionately targeted any person with trained skills, such as doctors,
lawyers, and teachers. Even those with post-secondary school education were marked for
execution, and glasses were deadly since people who wore them were thought to be
intellectuals (Kaplan, 1997). Hundreds of thousands fled northwest across the border into
neighboring Thailand. Through these Thai and Cambodia border refugee camps, they
resettled in countries such as the United States, Australia, Canada, and Japan.
Refugees from Vietnam
Upon taking control over the bomb-ravaged country after the Vietnam War in
1976, the North Vietnamese communists banned all other political parties, and forced
public servants and military personnel of the Republic of South Vietnam into reeducation
camps. The government also embarked on a mass state-sponsored forced collectivization
of farms and factories. Reconstruction of the war-damaged country was slow, and serious
humanitarian and economic problems confronted the communist regime. Millions of
people fled the country in crudely built boats, creating an international humanitarian
30
crisis (UNHCR, 2009). These people were referred as “boat people,” a term which came
into common use during the late 1970s with the mass departure of these refugees. On the
open seas, the boat people had to confront forces of nature, and escape from pirates.
There were many different ways people used to escape the country. Most were
secretive, and some involved the bribing of officials. Some people bought places in large
boats that held 400 passengers, and others organized smaller groups. Many families were
split up because they could only afford to send off one or a few members of the family.
The boats, most not intended for navigating open waters, would typically head for busy
international shipping lanes to the east. The lucky ones would succeed in being rescued
by freighters, and taken to Hong Kong. Others landed on the coasts of Malaysia, Thailand,
the Philippines, and Hong Kong. The unlucky ones faced weeks and months of perilous
journey in rickety crafts. Refugee camps were set up in Malaysia, Thailand, the
Philippines, Hong Kong, and Indonesia, where they were helped to resettle in such
countries as the United States, Australia, Canada, France, Germany, and the United
Kingdom (UNHCR, 2009).
2.1.2 Workers of Japanese descent from South America
Before describing the return or reverse migration of Japanese descendants to
Japan, a brief explanation of how they ended up in South America is needed.
Japanese migration to Brazil and Peru
The end of feudalism at the beginning of the Meiji era generated great poverty in
the rural population, and many Japanese began to migrate in search of a better living
condition. People began migrating to the United States and Canada in significant
numbers. However, an informal agreement between the United States and Japan in 1907
31
ended the migration of Japanese workers, in order to reduce tensions between the two
powerful Pacific nations which had been rising after the decisive Japanese victory against
Russia. This coincided with the Brazilian and the Japanese governments’ signing of an
agreement permitting Japanese migration to Brazil. The first group of Japanese people,
mostly farmers, migrated to Brazil in 1908 from the Japanese port of Kobe. Many of
them became laborers on coffee plantations, to fill in the labor shortage on the plantations.
Japanese migration to Brazil continued to be a boom, and nowadays, Brazil is home to
the largest Japanese population outside of Japan, exceeding the 1.2 million living in the
United States (U.S. Census Bureau, 2005). Japanese children born in Brazil, 二世 Nisei
[second generation] of migrants, to 一世 Issei [first generation] migrated from Japan,
were educated by the schools founded in the Japanese community. 三世 Sansei [third
generation], the grandchildren of Japanese were forced to attend Brazilian schools and
learn Portuguese. After the start of World War II, teaching of the Japanese language in
schools was banned.
Even though Brazil is home to the largest Japanese population outside of Japan,
the first Latin American country to accept Japanese migration was Peru. In 1899, nine
years before migration to Brazil started, a group of 790 became the first of serial waves
of migrants who made new lives for themselves in Peru. Many Japanese migrants arrived
from Okinawa, the southern island of Japan, but also from Gifu, Hiroshima, Kanagawa,
and Osaka. In the period before World War II, the Japanese community in Peru was
largely run by Issei [first generation] migrants born in Japan. The Nisei [second
generation] born in Peru were almost inevitably excluded from community decisionmaking. Therefore, unlike Nisei Brazilians, Nisei Peruvians knew almost nothing about
32
their parents’ homeland and language (Higashide, 2000). Today, their occupations vary
due to the fact that most of the Japanese Peruvians are very well educated10 (in Spanish),
and have a considerable economic position in Peru. The government of Peru’s former
president, Alberto Fujimori, rose to power in 1990, making him the first Japanese
politician elected to lead a country other than Japan (Lama, 1999).
During the 1980s, when the Japanese economic situation improved and achieved
stability, many Japanese Brazilians, or Nikkeijin “Japanese migrants and their
descendants” went to Japan as contract workers due to economic and political problems
in Brazil. They were termed dekasegi which roughly translates as “temporary work away
from home.” In 1990, the Japanese government amended the Immigration Control Law
and authorized the legal entry of Japanese and their descendents.11 With this amendment,
an influx of Japanese descendents began to migrate to Japan as their permanent home.
The vast majority is Brazilian, but there is also a large population of Peruvians, and
smaller population of Argentines, and other Latin Americans. They mainly work in
factories, subjected to hours of exhaustive work, expressed in Japanese as 3K, Kitanai,
Kiken, Kitsui (Dirty, Dangerous, and Difficult, known as the 3D in English), which has
subsequently gained widespread use, particularly regarding migrant workers (Weiner,
1998). The work available to migrants is that of low social status, has a higher risk of
injury, and is blue-collar.12
10
According to Morita (2002), younger generation Nikkeijin Brazilians who migrated to Japan in the 1990s
are also highly educated, compared to the dekasegis (temporary workers away from home) in the 1980s.
11
According to Kajita (1998) and Kanno (2008), the Japanese government does not “officially” accept
foreign laborers, but rather “unofficially” counts on their labor forces. The Nikkeijin entry is admitted under
the nominal purpose “to visit relatives,” although their comprehensive activities, involving full-time
employment, are permitted during their legal stay.
12
Kajita (1998) perceives the blue-collar group as subcategorized in two strata based on work-permission
legitimacy, placing Nikkeijin Latin Americans in the higher status and Asian newcomers in the lower
position, which I did not observe during my stay in 2007-2008.
33
Most recently, with the global financial crisis in 2008, the Japanese Brazilians
have been hit hard by lay-offs. Industrial factories are closing down, and the migrant
workers are the first ones to be let go. In the industrial city Hamamatsu, Shizuoka, where
over 19,000 Japanese Brazilians reside, a Protestant church distributes warm emergency
food to people who have become homeless and jobless. In Shiga where the third largest
Brazilian population in Japan resides, with a number of major companies’ factories, a
Brazilian school Colegio Latino de Japao lost half of its 500 students due to laid-off
parents unable to pay the high tuition fees. Since these ethnic schools are not accredited
by the Ministry of Education in Japan as full-fledged schools, they solely rely on
students’ tuition fees and donations to manage the school. This has contributed to more
multicultural students attending public schools, and more of them not attending school at
all. Some families return to Brazil, while others cannot afford the traveling expense,
having no place to go (Kodomo mailing list, 2009). In April 2009, the government
announced a plan to pay the foreign workers to go home. However, in exchange, they had
to agree not to seek work in Japan for the next three years (Tabuchi, 2009).
Although smaller in number, therefore less well-known, Japanese-Peruvians
followed a similar path to the Brazilians. Having economic and violent political
instability in Peru in the 1980s, return migration, or reverse migration back to their
ancestor’s homeland gave new hopes for a better life for the family and a better education
for their children. However, having had to abandon their home language and cultural
values during World War II, the Japanese government’s expectation that they are
acceptable simply because they shared Japanese blood is not easily met. Losing their high
economic position back in their home country, having to take up exhausting factory jobs
34
in Japan, and not knowing the language provides them with unexpected challenges. In
2006, the Japanese government partially amended the Immigration Control Law to add
“good conduct” as a requirement for Nikkeijin. This was in response to increasing
Japanese people’s concerns about the deterioration of public security by a rising number
of instances of crimes committed by foreign residents. Now proving that they are of
Japanese ancestry was not enough, but they also had to submit a certificate of criminal
records to show that they were “good citizens” (Hōmushō, 2009).
2.1.3 Citizenship
Japan considers multiple citizenship undesirable, and if the Japanese citizenship is
acquired the other citizenship is supposedly automatically lost13. Many Indochinese
refugees acquire citizenship through naturalization, leaving their home country behind for
good, hoping for equal status among other Japanese citizens. That was not necessarily the
case for South American residents, who were called dekasegi ‘temporary workers away
from home’. Many of them seemed to retain what may be called a karizumai ishiki
(Minoura, 1979) or ‘temporary sojourner mentality’ (Kanno, 2008). In recent years,
dekasegi has gradually turned into “immigrants,” a terminology which has not been in
common use yet (Ōno, 2008), and such immigrants have begun to purchase permanent
homes in Japan (Takizawa, 2008). However, their children will not automatically receive
Japanese citizenship simply by being born in Japan. In Japan, jus sanguinis (right of
blood) is the preferred means of passing on citizenship14, with the benefits of maintaining
culture and national identity as well as ethnic homogeneity, unlike jus soli (right of soil)
13
However, in reality, this law is not enforced and there is an estimate number of 500,000 Japanese with
dual citizenships. This is because it is difficult to check whether the individual has renounced the other
citizenship, and there is no penalty nor past instance of being caught.
14
Since 1984, a child can acquire Japanese citizenship at birth not only if the father is a Japanese citizen,
but also the mother.
35
policy, which citizenship is determined by place of birth. Therefore, children must make
a difficult choice of choosing their nationalities, before they become 22 years of age.
Some argue that children of Japanese descendants born in Japan should automatically be
granted Japanese citizenship, since they are ethnically and culturally Japanese. Others
argue that Japan should allow multiple citizenships so that the children do not have to
make the difficult choice of choosing the country of residence as their citizenship, having
to renounce their parents’ nationality (Ichikawa, Kanei, & Tosa, 2008). These historical
and social facts are voiced again in multicultural families’ personal stories throughout
this dissertation.
2.2 Education of increasing multicultural children
With the migrants came their children who enrolled in Japanese public schools.
Awareness of educational issues of multicultural children was triggered in the 1990s by a
sudden increase of children without Japanese language proficiency in Japanese public
education. The total enrollment of students needing special instruction of Japanese as a
Foreign Language (JFL) has been increasing and amounted to 25,411 in 2007
(Monbukagakushō, 2008). Under the pressure of necessity, local governments promptly
employed practical measures to cope with this increasing ethnic diversity in public
schools. JFL classes were established, teachers and bilingual assistant instructors were
provided, teachers’ manuals and translated handbooks were developed. These
experimental measures and the teachers’ daily efforts are documented in academic
reports, both in recent survey studies as well as a few full scale ethnographic studies, and
will be introduced below.
2.2.1 Questionnaires, interviews, and journalistic reports
36
Reflecting realistic needs, Japanese researchers started initial investigations in the
early 1990s to grasp multicultural students’ issues and potential factors of their difficulty
in schooling. A number of recent research collections have directly addressed
bilingualism and education of such students in Japan (Noguchi & Fotos, 2001:
Yamamoto, 2000). Some of the papers in these collections report fieldwork on
multicultural children’s experiences in the country. Many are based on interviews and
surveys designed to give a clearer, more up-to-date picture of various issues on Japanese
and mother tongue education (Enoi, 2000), language use and attitudes (Noyama, 2000),
and their school and classroom experiences as well as their linguistic and academic
development (Vaipae, 2001).
Vaipae’s (2001) initial study conducted in the mid 1990s painted a grim picture
for language minority students in Japanese public schools. She conducted a large scale
multi-method study employing surveys and case studies, including pilot studies of her
own two children. She pinpoints the biggest problems for language minority children as
follows.
In addition to the absence of minority language support, the paucity of JSL
programmes, the short-term nature of the programmes that are provided, and the
tendency to assign the teaching work to untrained instructors, another problem
uncovered during observation was the single-minded focus of the existing JSL
programmes upon teaching communication skills (p. 201).
Citing Cummins’ (1984) distinction between Basic Interpersonal Communication Skills
(BICS) and Cognitive Academic Language Proficiency (CALP), Vaipae predicts that the
problem of academic language for immigrants who have to learn Japanese with its unique
writing system is greater than European languages. Such students would be at a
considerable handicap in “catching up” on literacy skills without much help, and Vaipae
37
calls for reform of “stifling institutions, uninformed practices, misguided assumptions
and counterproductive and rigid instructional approaches” (p.229).
Noyama (2000) conducted a survey of Japanese Brazilian students in Gunma
prefecture where a large community of Brazilians reside. He explores the question of
what kind of language education these Brazilian students wish. He also examines what
kind of language experience they have in daily life, and what kind of awareness they have.
According to his survey conducted on 72 students and 53 parents, 75% felt that “Japanese
culture is important, but I want to value Brazilian manners and customs too” (p. 188:
original in Japanese, my translation). Almost all parents felt this way, and wished for
their children to grow up bilingual in Japanese and Portuguese. Reflecting on these
survey results, Noyama displays a few prescriptions for improving the quality of life for
multicultural students. His first remedy is to provide a mother tongue maintenance
classes, referring to Cummins’ (1984) Linguistic Interdependence hypothesis in his notes,
and he acknowledges the community-based efforts outside of school to support mother
tongue maintenance of multicultural children and students.
Enoi (2000) investigated Japanese language and mother tongue instruction of
newcomers’ children by conducting interviews of teachers, and notes the lack of
measures taken to guarantee mother tongue maintenance by the Ministry of Education.
She reports a case of a high school where they have bilingual instructors who speak the
students’ mother tongue on a part-time basis. Even though this measure is taken as an
extracurricular activity, she emphasizes the importance of mother tongue maintenance for
communication with parents, identity issues, academic success, and job application. In
addition, teachers specify the significance for self expression and encourage their
38
students to write about what is on their mind, and comments on one of their essays as in
the following interview excerpt.
こないだもうできないかなと思っていたらすっごく上手なんですよ。自分
の孤独さ、あんな上手い表現もう作者、小説家になれるくらい。すごく上
手な表現でどれだけ自分が苦しんでいる、周りが自分のことを解ってくれ
ない、自分一人で戦っているみたいな。私その人の文章みて涙がでた。
Konaida mō dekinai ka na to omotteitara suggoku jōzu na n desu yo. Jibun no
kodokusa, anna umai hyōgen mō sakusha, shōsetsuka ni nareru kurai. Sugoku
jōzu na hyōgen de dore dake jibun ga kurushinde iru, mawari ga jibun no koto o
wakattekurenai, jibun hitori de tatakatte iru mitai na. Watashi sono hito no
bunshō mite namida ga deta.
The other day when I wonodered if the student couldn’t do it anymore, the student
was really good. The student’s feeling of loneliness expressed so skillfully, like an
author or a novelist. The student expressed so well how much s/he is suffering,
how the others do not understand her/him, how s/he feel as if s/he was all alone
and such. I shed tears looking at what the student had written (p. 152).15
In this way, teachers elicit what the students can do with their mother tongue, and foster
students’ confidence.
Another aspect of language minority education which has attracted much attention
in recent years is the non-schooling of a large number of foreign students. According to
an investigation conducted by the Ministry of Education between 2005 and 2006 in
numerous municipalities, 1.1 percent of total foreign students were not receiving any type
of full time schooling (Monbukagakushō, 2006). Sakuma’s (2006) estimated number, 10
percent is ten times higher than the official statistics, since this official number does not
include families who could not be contacted because of various reasons such as their
change of address. He describes the critical factor contributing to the large number of
non-schooled foreign children in Japan as the lack of foreign children’s rights to public
education. According to the Constitution of Japan, Japanese national children have a right
to nine years of compulsory education, and this constitutional right does not extend to
15
All translations are mine, unless otherwise stated.
39
foreign children. However, in 1978 Japan signed the United Nations treaty, International
Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights, and in 1990, Convention on the
Rights of the Child, which include rights to education. The right to education in the
Covenant Article 13 states that education shall exhibit availability, accessibility, and
acceptability. Education must be available in sufficient quantity, it must be accessible to
everyone without discrimination, and it must be acceptable, or relevant, culturally
appropriate, and good quality for students (United Nations Human Rights, 2008). In
addition, the Convention guarantees compulsory primary education available and free to
all (CRIN, 2008). Japanese public school’s merely passive acceptance of foreign national
children is clearly a violation of these UN treaties, and providing education to nonJapanese children should not be seen as ‘doing a favor’ (Sakuma, 2006, cited and
translated in Kanno, 2008), but as their ‘rights.’ Sakuma (2006) reports that in some
schools, they prepare a contract to be signed to a statement, “if absence continues, I have
no objection to be expelled from school,” and are negligent of foreign students’ nonschooling.
Another phenomenon which has been reported in public schools is children being
bullied because of their foreignness (Vaipae, 2001). As a matter of fact, 7.4 percent of the
non-schooled children mentioned above listed bullying as a reason for not attending
school (Monbukagakushō, 2006). Again, the Japanese Constitution does not protect
foreign nationals from discrimination, and there is no law enforcement. The other part of
the United Nations treaty signed by Japan in 1978 is the Covenant of Civil and Political
Rights, which provides protection against discrimination based on gender, religion, or
race (United Nations Human Rights, 2008). Japan has ratified the Covenant, and has
40
submitted periodic reports to the United Nations Organization to achieve a better and
more equal society (Cortés Gómez, 2005; 2006). In 2008, a national network called
“Ijime Zero [Zero bullying]” (Representative: Dr. Cheiron McMahill) was established to
help multicultural and multilingual children and their families who are suffering from
bullying in schools in Japan. This NPO provides multilingual consultation services for
children and their families whose lives are affected by bullying, and networks with
organizations and educators nationwide to achieve an “Ijime Zero” society (Ijime Zero,
2008).
2.2.2 Ethnographic studies
The studies and reports mentioned in the previous section contribute to
recognizing the need for systematic JSL as well as mother tongue instruction, and
identifying issues faced by multicultural children. In this section, longitudinal
ethnographic research comparable to those conducted in the US bilingual contexts
(Schecter & Bayley, 2002; Zentella, 1997) will be introduced. The following
ethnographic studies give a full account of individuals (Morita, 2002) or institutions
(Kanno, 2004, 2008; McMahill, 2006; Ōta 2000) situated in socio-cultural contexts of
everyday lives in Japan. While Ōta (2000) still portrays public schools as an oppressive
environment for newcomer children, Kanno (2004; 2008) reports a more nuanced
understanding of the complex and contradictory nature of school practices, and on a
brighter side, possibilities and agency displayed by students are suggested in McMahill’s
(2006) and Morita’s (2002) dissertations.
In their respective studies of Latino communities in the United States, Schecter &
Bayley (2002) and Zentella (1997) give an ethnographic account of language
41
socialization practices in these communities. Zentella’s 14-year longitudinal study
showed how children and adolescents of the New York Puerto Rican community were
socialized to become competent in many of the language varieties spoken in the
community and learned to switch from one variety to another according to the identity the
speaker wished to present. Schecter & Bayley (2002) describe how language socialization
practices vary in the experiences of Mexican-descent families living in California and
Texas. Both of these books explore the complexity of the relationship between language
socialization and identity issues in situational circumstances, only to be demonstrated by
ethnographic telling.
In contrast to these US studies focused on home language issues, the Japanese
ethnographies have primarily focused on schools. Ōta (2000) conducted an ethnographic
study of language minority education in several Japanese public schools. His research
relies on fieldwork and observations conducted frequently for four and half years from
September 1992 to March 1997 in a city in the Tokai region, a sub-region southeast of
Tokyo, where nearly 10,000 newcomer residents, most of whom are South American
Japanese descendants, lived in 1997. After carrying out fieldwork and observations
intensively in one elementary school and one junior high school, as well as in other
elementary and junior high schools, he highlights several major findings on how each
school has responded to newcomer students. He found that teaching Japanese was one of
the highest priorities for schools and teachers in the education of newcomer students.
They are pulled out of regular classrooms to learn Japanese and to learn to think and
behave like other Japanese students. However, most of them fall far behind Japanese
students academically, and less than one half of them go on to high school. In addition,
42
they have only limited chances to use their native languages in schools. However, schools
have initiated a so-called international education programs to promote cross-cultural
understanding and communication between Japanese and newcomer students. In
conclusion, Ōta (2000) argues that “expanding the framework of the Japanese education
system is of great importance and that multicultural education will enhance this
framework and ‘denationalize’ Japanese education” (p. 11).
Kanno (2008) conducted an ethnographic study on five schools which serve very
different groups of bilingual students in Japan from 1999 to 2001. She observed that the
schools create unequal access to bilingualism for bilingual students of different
socioeconomic classes. Drawing on Bourdieu’s (1977) theory of cultural reproduction,
she argues that the schools help sustain “the process of endowing the already privileged
children with more linguistic and cultural capital while further depriving the already
underprivileged children” (p.4). Two private schools promoted additive bilingualism16
(Lambert, 1975) in Japanese and English, whereas, at two public schools, language
minority students tended to form subtractive bilingualism (ibid.). However, Kanno also
argues that members of the school community can exert their agency to challenge the
existing power relations in society by envisioning alternative imagined communities
(Anderson, 1991) for disadvantaged students. Her example of a Chinese ethnic school
demonstrates how imagining an alternative future as transnational Chinese changes a
16
Additive bilingualism deals “with bilinguals using two languages both of which have social value and
respect in their respective settings,” and “in no case would the learning of the second language portend the
dropping or the replacement of the other (Lambert, 1975, p. 67).” Contrast this with a more subtractive
form experienced by many ethnic minority groups who “are forced to put aside their ethnic language for a
national language,” and “their degree of bilinguality at any point in time would likely reflect some stage in
the subtraction of the ethnic language and the replacement with another (p.68)”
43
school’s approach to educating and giving working-class bilingual children “both-and
option” (p.220) in Japanese and Chinese.
Similarly, Morita (2002) does not see minority children in her study simply as
passive recipients of obstacles, but sees them as tactically active agents, and “the
seemingly disadvantaged foreign students actually maximize their personal resources and
maneuver survival strategies for identity politics” (p. 1). Employing longitudinal
ethnographic methods, she investigates three Brazilian students’ social interactions in
multi dimensions of every day primary school life during three four months cycles
between 1997 and 2000. She synthesizes case studies of three Brazilian boys, and
concludes that they successfully adjusted to the school community by developing positive
“interpersonal identity,” a part of self-identity constituted through social mutuality with a
specific role and fulfilling contribution. They respectively negotiated their individually
acknowledged role in their situated homeroom society, such as entertaining the classroom
community, encouraging peer solidarity, and leading the teammates to their joint victory
in sports. Another key factor to be influential in successful cross-cultural adjustment of
the three Brazilian students was surviving “intra-minority politics,” a situated reversible
hierarchy and group dynamics which either includes or excludes the other nonmainstream students. They managed relationships with other diverse non-mainstream
students, such as physically/mentally handicapped, academically/athletically subordinate,
socially misfit/behaviorally unfit, and bullied/unschooled students in the classroom
community. While the Brazilian boys shared marginality and solidarity with their JFLpeers, one of the three boys degraded classmates who didn’t fit in behaviorally or socially
to a lower position and identified himself as more accessible to the mainstream.
44
McMahill’s (2006) dissertation is a case study of International Community School
(ICS), a non-profit organization in Gunma, Japan. She established this elementary
program in 2000 to provide full-time trilingual education, in Brazilian Portuguese,
English, and Japanese, for both language minority and majority students. Her
ethnographic research is a case study of the school, focusing on four Brazilian, American,
Japanese nationality children, all born in Japan, including her own daughter. Using
discourse, multimodal, visual, and spatial analytical methods, she looked at “the ways
students engaged in the transformation of adult discourses with the purpose of
considering how such transformations can contribute to new ways of constructing
identities of participants in language education (p.319).” In the analysis of a short extract
of the children’s spontaneous interactions as “dolphins (who) don’t have nationalities
(p.376),” McMahill suggests that the children created common identities and nurturing
relationships by transcending the boundaries of monocultural and monolingual identities.
This is the only study encountered focusing on newcomer’s children born in Japan, and
provides possibilities and implications for their identity development and language
socialization.
2.3 Language socialization theory
This study takes a language socialization paradigm which distinctiveness lies in
the investment in long-term ethnography (Kulick & Schieffelin, 2004). The notion of
language socialization developed by Schieffelin & Ochs (1986a) is that children are
“socialized through the use of language” and “socialized to use language.” This notion is
devoted to “understanding the interdependence of language and sociocultural structures
and processes” (p. 163). Schieffelin & Ochs (1986b) emphasizes that “sociocultural
45
information is generally encoded in the organization of the conversational discourse” (pp.
2-3). Therefore, language socialization research investigates these interconnected
processes of linguistic and cultural learning in discourse practices and participation
structures and roles. This focus on the “architecture of collaboration” (Ochs 2000)
identifies with Vygotskian sociocultural approaches to the development of cognitive
processes (Vygotsky 1979; Zuengler & Miller 2006).
This basic premise of language socialization has most often been studied with
children acquiring their first language in a variety of societies (Cook 1999; Heath 1982;
1983; 1988; Schieffelin & Ochs 1986a; Schieffelin & Ochs 1986b; Watson-Gegeo &
Gegeo 1986). Relying primarily on ethnographic research methods, work in this area
reveals how caregivers provide explicit instruction in speech behavior and how
interlocutors see their own and others’ social position. Therefore, much of these
traditional literatures on language socialization has been presented as a one-on-one,
unidirectional process and has focused on the socialization process during adult
caregiver-child interactional routines, as well as on the relationships between culturallyspecific patterns of language socialization and school achievement.
Heath (1988) presents data on uses of questions in three different contexts in a
Southeastern city of United States: a working-class community of African American
residents, the classrooms attended by children, and the homes of teachers. She shows that
in an African American community, questions addressed by adults to children occurred
far less frequently than in the teachers’ homes, and subsequently in the classrooms.
Therefore, for African American students to succeed academically, they had to learn to
respond to questions according to the rules of classroom usage, not having acquired them
46
in language socialization at home. In other words, the patterns of “literacy events:
occasions in which written language is integral to the nature of participants' interactions
and their interpretive processes and strategies” (Heath, 1982, p. 50) acceptable in school
did not appear at home of these students.
The initial language socialization study carried out in Japanese classrooms was by
Cook (1999). She investigates how Japanese children acquire the skill of attentive
listening through classroom interactional routines from the perspective of language
socialization. She argues that teacher-student interaction in Japanese classrooms differs
significantly from that of traditional American classrooms. In American classrooms, the
preferred participant structure of instruction is a dyadic sequence, Initiation-ReplyEvaluation, each question involving a teacher and just one student at a time (Mehan
1979). Cook demonstrates how peer presentations encouraged students to be active
listeners and to provide reactions to peers with minimized teacher’s authority in Japanese
classrooms.
The insights made available by adopting a language socialization framework have
been extended beyond this initial, domestic setting to bilingual and multilingual
socialization settings as well (Bayley & Schecter 2003). In these settings, identity
becomes an important area of discussion, since identities are social constructions which
can be transformed or resisted in multilingual socialization settings and communities. In
Bayley & Schecter’s edited volume, many authors incorporate identity into a language
socialization framework, showing that “individuals choose among (and sometimes resist)
the identities offered to them, and at times construct new identities when the
circumstances in which they find themselves do not offer a desirable choice” (p.6).
47
Harklau (2003) examines how “texts, curricula, and face-to-face interactions served to
maintain certain images or representations of immigrant students” and “the complexities
of the communicative worlds of multilingual adolescents” (p. 84) at a school in the
United States. She describes three different images of immigrants prevalent within the
school: a color-blind representation, an Ellis Island mythology representation, and a
linguistically and cognitively deficient bilingual representation. She considers the
implication of these notions of representational practices for the socialization of bilingual
adolescents into schooling paths and ultimate educational and occupational futures, and
contends that individuals have agency and the ability to work against institutional and
societal discourses, and to question the negative effects of representations.
Cole and Zuengler (2003) continue to raise important questions of language
socialization and adolescent identity formation, within the context of a science classroom
in a multilingual, multi-ethnic, urban high school in the United States. On the basis of a
five-year longitudinal study, they examine how a selected group of linguistically and
ethnically diverse Cyber Academy students involved in a community-based science
project, the “Asthma Project,” negotiate their identities as “good students,” “scientistresearchers,” “ghetto school poor performers,” and “child laborers.” They inform our
understandings of students’ involvement in the socialization process by showing that,
“rather than simply internalizing experts’ norms and values, novices are involved in a
reciprocal process, one in which they actively co-constructed their socialization” (p.112).
Atkinson (2003) extends language socialization work to higher education in
southern India. He examines the role of learning and use of English in students’ academic
success in “All Souls College,” a formerly elite English-medium college. He analyses the
48
process of language “dys-socialization” among local students who have been educated in
Tamil, and are less proficient in English than are the traditional city-dwelling students.
He examines how Tamil-educated students are developing social identities that militate
against the acquisition of English, and language socialization into the traditional context
of the college is not occurring. Atkinson saw some cases where the students cited the
importance of protecting their Tamil language and identity, and expressed resistance to
English domination.
Lotherington (2003) continues the focus on language use and identity, examining
the language and literacy practices of Cambodian and Vietnamese immigrant youth in
Springvale, a suburb of Melbourne, Australia which is home to a growing population of
South-East Asian immigrants. She locates the conflicting demands that non-European
immigrant youth face in their efforts to negotiate a new Australian-Asian identity in a
country that has only in the post-1970s allowed a substantial number of Asian immigrants.
Young people are negotiating the border between “the desires of parents for their children
to maintain their cultural identity through study of the home language at school, and the
economically-driven pressures they impress on their children to succeed at school, where
they are academically judged in English” (p.215). A part of this negotiation was when the
family members required assistance language brokering in situations where translation
help was needed.
Bell (2003) explores the learning experiences of a linguistically diverse group of
unemployed adults participating in a job retraining program based at community college
in a large Canadian city. She adopts a community-of-practice approach (Lave & Wenger,
1991) and explores how individuals who have been socialized into one identity, that of
49
worker, confront the challenge of taking on a student identity in a situation in which both
they and their instructors are viewed as low-status in the institution. Non-native and nonstandard English speakers faced additional problems, and their challenges were
intensified. When working with dense abstract texts in the classroom sessions, they were
excluded by language barriers, and “they failed to gain performance opportunities, and
were thus excluded from the participation necessary to developing competence” (p.266).
However, in the shop environment, where they could see from the work being done at
other tables what the assigned project should look like, the learners were able to reaffirm
their identity as workers.
As such, by incorporating recent discourse about identity into a language
socialization framework, these studies argue that bilingual or multilingual persona in
multicultural society and situational contexts indeed have a fluid quality. In such
environments, despite what official characterizations may be offered, identity is not a
fixed category. Also, societal messages about ethnicity, identity, and school achievement
are not imposed deterministically. Rather, the target of socialization is dynamic and
multiple, constantly moving. From this perspective, societal messages about identity or
discourses exist in reciprocal and conflicting relationships with communicative practices
in individual places and times. Therefore, the recent theoretical perspective of language
socialization is that “linguistic and cultural knowledge are constructed through each
other,” and that children and adults “are active and selective agents in both processes”
(Watson-Gegeo, 2004, p. 339) of acquisition, and these processes involve not only
reproduction but also “dynamic processes of transformation and change” (Garrett &
Baquedano-López 2002, p. 355). This premise of language socialization theory is
50
consistent with the new understandings about the fundamental role of context, such as
identities, in human experience.
2.4 Learner identity studies
The development and uses of the notion of “identity” have a long history, and
have been “problematized” (Lin, 2008). In this dissertation, I view “identities” as “social,
discursive, and narrative options offered by a particular society in a specific time and
place to which individuals and groups of individuals appeal in an attempt to self-name, to
self-characterize, and to claim social spaces and social prerogatives (Pavlenko &
Blackledge, 2004, p.19),” and therefore, as socially produced in language, as a site of
struggle, and potential change (Weedon, 1987). However, early studies of language and
identity did not always privilege such aspects. Rather, drawing on Tajfel’s (1974) view of
social identity as based on group membership, a number of approaches theorized identity
as static and rigid. Several critics objected to these intergroup approaches which did not
allow consideration of characteristics in which individuals within various groups may
differ. As a transition from these approaches, poststructuralist approaches view identity
not as constants but as fluid and communicatively constructed in linguistic interaction
(Blackledge & Pavlenko, 2001; Gumperz, 1982; Le Page & Tabouret-Keller, 1985;
Pavlenko & Blackledge, 2004; Weedon, 1987). In the past years, such identity in a more
ethnographically-oriented sociolinguistic approach has been examined in the context of
second language acquisition processes (Atkinson, 2007; Haneda, 2005; Menard-Warwick,
2005, 2008, in press; Norton, 1993, 1995; Ochs, 1993; Ogulnick, 1998; Siegal, 1996).
These studies illustrate how language is used in interactions to create individual’s
identities, and how identities play a role in second language acquisition and learning.
51
A few Japanese researchers have explored the relationship between identity and
second language acquisition. Researchers claim that identity has a great influence on
bilingual language use, and consequently influences second language development and
L1 maintenance. Oketani (1999) interviewed 42 Japanese newcomer children at 20 to 30
years of age in Canada. They are categorized into four bilingual groups: additive
bilingual, English dominant bilingual, Japanese dominant bilingual, and double-limited
bilingual. She reports that the form of identity differs according to their bilingual type,
with additive bilinguals and Japanese dominant bilinguals maintaining a stronger sense of
Japanese or Japanese origin than other groups. And those are the ones who possessed
higher Japanese language proficiency at the expense of lower English proficiency. She
concludes that her results support previous reports on second language acquisition and
identity. However, “identity” in her view is a belief and attitude possessed by oneself,
rather than communicatively constructed.
Long (1998) also claims that how immigrants acquire local language and how the
next generation preserves their ancestral language depend largely on identity issues.
Speaking one’s ancestral language is not only a simple act of choosing a language but
also a means of revealing one’s identity. Especially in the case of people of Asian descent
in Japan, if speakers do not reveal their identity, they might be able to pass as Japanese.
Therefore, language choice is believed to be an important indicator of one’s ethnic
belonging and identity. Long also believes speakers develop their identities in a specific
social environment. However, he believes that identity is constructed through self. As
such, even though the prominent view of identity is a construct of self image, it is
52
expected that research will continue to examine whether strength of linguistic identity is a
factor for language maintenance of linguistic minorities in Japan.
Similarly, defining “national identity” as “a self image reflecting the
understanding of one’s relationship with the nation and social system which one resides
in” (p.84; original in Japanese), Miyata (1995) investigates how families of Chinese war
orphans balance Chinese identity and their new Japanese identity and suggests
pedagogical implications for Japanese as a second language (JSL) instruction. Through
her interviews, she senses that they are struggling to balance their national identity
between Japan and China, especially because it is difficult for them to construct their new
identity as Japanese. Even though they want to settle down in Japan, acquire Japanese,
and obtain citizenship, they also wish to live as people who possess two languages and
two cultures. She suggests that educators should tackle with individual identity issues and
language problems in the long term rather than trying to solve the problems in the short
term, which often seems to be the case. Similarly, research needs to employ a
longitudinal method in order to explore these issues more deeply.
Some classroom interaction research employs a longitudinal observation method
to explore social identity in the classroom. Shimazu (2003) employs Ochs’ (1993) notion
of ‘social identity construction’ to analyze discourse and examine the teacher’s and
students’ identity construction in a Japanese language class. Collecting data for one
semester of Japanese class, her analysis shows that classroom identity possesses
multiplicity not only as “teacher” and “student” but also as other roles played out actively
by students. In some cases, students take their turn to play a role as “speaker” and give
responses unexpected in the normal classroom routine, or take the floor actively and
53
create opportunities for their own turn. In this sense, her notion of “identity” as well as
Ochs’, is different from those mentioned above where they view “identity” as subjective
such as “how I view myself.” Ochs like Shimazu understands “identity” as something
which is constructed within social interaction.
Another researcher whose work, in Japan, converges with the theoretical construct
of identity as linked to conversational interactions is Siegal (1996). In her paper, she
examines the role of language learner “subjectivity”17 in the acquisition of sociolinguistic
competency in Japanese. The case is of a “white” professional woman in her mid-40s
learning, studying, and using the target language in Japan. The conversation data between
“Mary” and her professor examined shows that she attempted to create an image
appropriate to her desire to be polite, without displaying an understanding of the modal
deshō, which contributed to inappropriate language use. However, her pragmatic
inappropriateness was not necessarily viewed as failure by her professor. Therefore,
Siegal makes a point that learners should develop a “critical cultural literacy (Kramsch,
1993, cited in Siegal, 1996)” which knowledge includes “both a conceptualization of
their position in the society where the language is spoken and an understanding of how
language can be used in interactions to co-construct individuals’ subjectivity” (Siegal,
1996, p.377).
While viewing identities as fluid and constructed in linguistic and social
interactions, “Negotiation of identities” theory proposed by Blackledge & Pavlenko
(2001; 2003) emphasizes the role of power in the process of categorization. Especially in
17
Siegel (1996) uses the term “subjectivity” as well as “identity” in her paper, and cites Weedon (1987) for
the definition as “the conscious and unconscious thoughts and emotions of the individual, her sense of
herself and her ways of understanding her relation to the world’ (p.32). See Menard-Warwick (2005) for
theoretical discussions on this term.
54
multilingual settings, groups and individuals “(re)negotiate their identities in response to
hegemonic language ideologies which demand homogeneity (2001, p. 5).” In such cases,
some practices may position individuals in particular ways, even when individuals choose
to position themselves differently (Davies & Harré, 1990). Davies & Harré’s (1990)
“positioning theory” sees this phenomenon as “the discursive process whereby selves are
located in conversations as observably and subjectively coherent participants in jointly
produced storylines” (p. 48). There can be interactive positioning, whereby others attempt
to position or reposition particular individuals or groups, and reflexive positioning, which
is self representation. As such, individuals negotiate their identities by performing their
self-chosen identities and rejecting others’ attempts to position them differently. In
addition, none of the identities are stable entities, and people are continuously involved in
the processes of positioning selves and others. And when they do so, language plays an
important role especially in multilingual contexts. By adopting Davies & Harré’s
positioning theory, negotiation of identity framework differentiates between three types
of identities: “imposed identities,” which are not negotiable in a particular time and place,
“assumed identities,” which are accepted and not negotiated, and “negotiable identities,”
which are resisted by groups and individuals (Blackledge & Pavlenko, 2003). In this
dissertation project, such a view of identity as negotiated (Blackledge & Pavlenko, 2001;
2003), as positionings (Davies & Harré, 1990) located in discourses and discursive
practices, and therefore, as multiple, as a site of struggle, and as changing over time
(Norton, 1993; 1995; Weedon, 1987), is taken.
2.5 Language attitude and ideology studies
55
Language attitudes refer to “the ways individuals locate language-related
concepts-- for instance, languages themselves, bilingualism, language varieties, and so
on-- on different dimensions of judgment such as good or bad, beautiful or ugly, useful or
useless” (Martinez, 2006, p. 20). Language attitudes have also been explored in relation
to language ideologies. Language ideologies have been defined as “sets of beliefs about
language articulated by users as a rationalization or justification of perceived language
structure and use” (Silverstein, 1979, p. 193). As these definitions indicate, in a sense,
when language ideologies are discussed language attitudes are also discussed. However,
Martinez (2006) argues some important differences between the concepts of language
ideology and attitude.
First of all, language ideology serves a particular function in the language
community of the speakers. The same is not always true for language attitude, and if it
does not serve the interests of one group over another, then it is probably not ideological.
The second difference is that language ideology is a structured combination of attitudes
about different aspects of language that promote and legitimize particular power relations
in a society. Therefore, language attitudes can be considered as building blocks of
language ideology. In other words, an attitude is normally individual and an ideology is
collective. In sum, “the relationship between language attitudes and language ideologies
makes language attitude studies an important site for the investigation of language
ideologies” (Martinez, 2006, p.21).
Irvine & Gal (2000) identify three processes to discuss language ideology in
which people connect language with their lived experiences. These processes are
56
“iconicity,” “fractal recursivity,”18 and “erasure.” By identifying these processes, the
authors focus on the ideological aspects of linguistic differentiation illustrating examples
from Africa and southeastern Europe. One of these ideological processes, erasure is a
useful concept to discuss language attitudes in Japan where similar process can be
observed. Erasure is the process in which facts, persons or activities that are inconsistent
with the ideological scheme go invisible. For example, the Japanese social group or the
language is imagined as homogeneous on the expense of its internal variation which is
disregarded or erased.
Such ideologies contribute to shaping certain discourses, and they are generated,
sustained, and reproduced by communities of practices as parts of “thought-collectives”
(Ramanathan, 2002). Therefore, discourse as an ideological practice in power relations
provides a view for investigating ideologies. In this sense, the term ‘discourse’ is
proposed as a form of social practice, as a mode of action, which has a dialectal
relationship with social structure (Fairclough, 1992), and may be seen as a “semiotic
instantiation of ideologies,” which may otherwise remain unrepresented (MenardWarwick, in press). As such, Fairclough (1992) defines “ideology” as “significations
generated within power relations as a dimension of the exercise of power and struggle
over power (p.67),” and approaches ideological issues with discourse analysis. In so
doing, he indicates the forms and meanings of ‘discursive practices’ as processes of
production, distribution, and consumption where ideologies are built into.
Further, scholars have addressed how some ideologies are linked to politics and
language policies (Ricento, 2000), and how these impact local practices of teaching and
18
“Iconicity” involves indexing linguistic features to social groups or activities. “Fractal recursivity” is the
reproduction of an opposition at one level of relationship onto other levels.
57
learning (Ramanathan, 2005; Timm, 2005). Circulated as “thought-collectives,” a shared
thought structure “generates similar ways of being, thinking, behaving, and believing and
includes…conceptualizing of, teaching, and learning vernacular languages” (Ramanathan,
2005, p. 48). Contrary to Ramanathan’s article on how pro-vernacular ideologies impact
choices of teaching in India, Timm (2005) explores language ideologies underlying the
construction of “standardized” variety of the stigmatized vernaculars, and its positive and
negative impacts on teaching, learning, and use of the language in the schools and in
wider society in Brittany.
Language variation has also been a site of investigation on ideological issues as
well as social identities in previous language attitude studies. In the United States alone
there are many English language varieties linked to geography and social identities
(Lippi-Green, 1997). If you look around the world, the second language speakers of
English outnumber those for whom it is the mother tongue (Jenkins, 2000). The language
ideology that underlies many people’s myth about “Standard English” is believed to
enable, even encourage, people to discriminate against minorities who speak with a “nonstandard” accent. Arnett, Dailey-O’Cain, Lippi-Green, and Simpson (1994) claim that the
children in the US are “taught” how to discriminate through media such as Disney’s
cartoons. In this study, 371 characters in all released versions of full-length animated
Disney films were analyzed in terms of their accent and dialect. The study indicates that
these animated films provide material that links language varieties associated with
specific origins, ethnicities, and races with social norms and characteristics in non-factual
and overtly discriminatory ways. Those characters who have the widest variety of life
choices and possibilities available to them were male speakers of a non-stigmatized
58
variety of British English. On the other hand, for females and for those who mark their
culture and places in terms of stigmatized language, the world provides fewer choices and
possibilities. As such, not all foreign accents, but only accent linked to skin color or
which signals a third-world homeland, evokes negative reactions (Rubin, 1992).
Kanno (2003) tells the story of four students who moved between North America
and Japan, their homeland. The story is about kikokushijo “returnee” (teenage Japanese
students who spend several years abroad and then return to Japan), who are often isolated
from peer groups at school settings due to their differences in behavior and speech. In her
story too, one student discovers that she had become alienated from Japanese language
and culture when she returned to Japan and entered university. She was accused by the
members of the club she joined of being too self-centered, too direct, too childish, and of
being ignorant of the “Japanese common sense.” Her refusal to use honorific expressions
(keigo) with senior members of the club was another area of their intolerance. However,
as she gradually came to terms with her kikokushijo identity, she had also acquired some
skills for communicating more smoothly with her Japanese peers. Her story shows the
bilingual “struggling to claim identities that do not fit with the dominant ideologies of
monolingualism and monoculturalism” (p. 4) in Japan.
As can be seen from the previous story, language use and learning is an intricate
process which involves not only linguistic aspects such as pronunciation but also social
and cultural factors. The learning of languages is “strongly affected by a variety of social
and cultural factors, such as the size and cohesiveness of a language minority group, the
dominant culture’s attitude toward speakers of a particular language, and the attitude of a
language minority group toward its own language and culture as well as toward the host
59
country” (McKay, 1988, p.338). Kanno’s (2008) study exemplifies this case by showing
that Japanese and English bilinguals possess more linguistic and cultural capital than
bilinguals of other languages. Norton’s (1995) study shows how power relations affect
interaction between language learners and target language speakers. Similarly, Siegal
(1996) argues that “a learner’s position in society plays an important role in how she will
be viewed in that society, and what kind of language interactions will occur” (p. 362). In
sum, language attitudes as well as ideologies have been argued to affect language
learning and use, and I aim to investigate this relationship in the context of current
diversity in Japan.
2.5 Summary
In summary, the prior academic research on newcomer foreign students in the
Japanese public school, consisting of questionnaire-based studies, has provided
discussions about their issues. Especially, the strong mindset of Japanese schools and
society’s failure to accept multicultural children dominates the results. On the contrary, a
few ethnographic studies taken place in schools have focused more on “active human
agency” (Morita, 2002) of the minority students, rather than as absolutely oppressed
under the homogenizing pressure. The theoretical rationale of this study considers this
stance as important for providing clear understanding of the ethnic-minority students’
real lives and offering practical options for their successful integration into the society.
The purpose of this study is to illustrate the story of multicultural children’s experience in
multi-dimensions of life at home and at school in their primary school period. The focal
children are all born in Japan, second generation immigrants, which present different
challenges compared to the 1.5 generation (Rumbaut & Ima, 1988) newcomer children.
60
By providing these individual stories and scrutinizing them, this study makes
contributions to the theories of intersection between language use and identity within the
language socialization framework.
61
CHAPTER THREE
RESEARCH METHODOLOGY
This ethnographic study investigates multicultural children’s multiple language
use and identities expressed in the multiple dimensions of their life in Japan. I examine
how their Japanese and home language use with their volunteer tutors at home and in
their community, and with their classmates and teachers in the elementary school life
intersect with their construction of multilingual identities. In this chapter, I specify the
objectives of the study and articulate research questions. Subsequently, I introduce my
research site and the process of negotiating access to the program, the families, and the
schools. I then characterize my socio-cultural positioning in the site and my personal
relationships with the families. The last two sections will be devoted to the description of
data collection and analysis.
3.1 Objectives of the Study and Research Questions
One of the significant aspects of this study is its method of inquiry, namely,
ethnographic research. The theoretical rationale is, by applying ethnographic methods, to
shed light on multicultural children’s linguistic experiences and daily lives in Japan,
which the prevailing prior academic research on newcomer foreign students in the
Japanese public schools, consisting of questionnaire-based studies did not aim to do.
Such previous studies offered only general criticism. In order to offer practical options
for helping multicultural children, balanced multi-perspectives will be taken in this study.
This study follows the new lines of a few full-scale intensive ethnographic studies on
multicultural children’s comprehensive school life in Japan and conducts in-depth
analysis of the human subjects, integrating abundant contextualization. Particular
62
significance of this project is its focus on children’s homes, potentially contributing to
bridging school and home contexts.
The purpose of this study is to illustrate the story of multicultural children’s
language socialization in multiple dimensions of their lives in Japan, to comprehend their
identity constructions, and to seek the relationships between language and identity. In
order to understand multicultural children’s multiple experiences, I selected three
families with different linguistic, cultural, and historical backgrounds, and I focused on
three multicultural children of different ages, whom I followed throughout my eight
months field work period. I primarily look at their Japanese and home language use, and
examine their constructions of multiple identities. In parallel, I explore these aspects in
their participation in the “Volunteer Home Tutoring” program, and the roles Japanese
tutors can play in the children’s language and identity development.
Broadly, four fundamental questions are to be investigated regarding each
multicultural child’s language use and identity.
1) How and to what extent do multicultural children construct, display, and negotiate
their multiple identities when using Japanese? Are there opportunities for children
to express their multicultural identities in Japanese society?
2) How and to what extent do children construct, display, and negotiate their
multiple identities when using their home language? Do they have opportunities
to express their multilingual identities and use their home language daily?
3) How do opportunities to negotiate their identities influence children’s language
development and home language use?
63
4) How do volunteer home tutors play a role in multicultural children’s language and
identity development?
3.2 Research Site Selection and Negotiating Entrance
Kanagawa prefecture, where Kanagawa Junior College19 is located, is an ideal
place to find diversity. Kanagawa is located in the south of Tokyo. The capital is
Yokohama, and the prefecture is considered part of the greater Tokyo area. After the war,
the prefecture faced rapid urbanization and increasing population, and it became the
second largest inhabited prefecture in Japan. Its capital, Yokohama houses the largest
Chinatown in Japan, contributing to its diversity. Since the Resettlement Promotion
Center (closed down in 1998) for Indo-Chinese refugees was in Yamato city, Kanagawa,
many refugees from Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos settled in the neighboring cities.
Recently, South Americans of Japanese descent have grown in number, being attracted to
contract factory jobs.
Kanagawa Junior College is a Jesuit higher education institution located in Higa
city, founded in 1973. This two year women’s college has only one department, English
studies. Surrounded by mountain range including Mount Fuji, the nation’s highest
mountain, the campus is green and spacious by Japanese standards. To Higa station, the
closest train station to the campus, it is approximately an hour train ride from the center
of Tokyo. From the station, students take a 10 minute school bus ride, or walk for 20
minutes to the campus. The ride or the walk takes you through some vegetable fields.
This city has the fourth largest population of foreign residents in the prefecture, and the
19
All names from this chapter, including city names (except Tokyo, Yokohama, Mount Fuji, and prefecture
names), are pseudonyms.
64
“Volunteer Home Tutoring” program run by the college serves over hundred foreign
residents in Higa city, as well as the neighboring cities.
3.2.1 Negotiating entrance to the Volunteer Home Tutoring program
In order to negotiate entrance and establish my constant access to the Volunteer
Home Tutoring program and a few participating foreign families, starting from the fall
2007, continuing for over six months, I initiated contact in March, 2007. As a matter of
fact, it was my old friend from graduate school, Kyoko, who initiated contact for me. I
had started looking for possible research sites in January, 2007, employing every contact
I had in Japan. Kyoko who is a graduate of Kanagawa Junior College, informed me about
the volunteer activity run by the college. We both personally knew the chair of the
department, one English professor, and a Japanese professor (Professor Murakami), who
taught at the college. Two of them were graduates from Sophia University Graduate
School, including Kyoko, and myself. Kyoko had worked with Professor Murakami in
the past, and I had met her before at a Japanese linguistics conference held in San
Francisco. Kyoko was a Spanish student of Professor Chaves, who is a director of the
volunteer program. It looked like a good possibility, having these numerous personal
connections. However, I was not too optimistic, having had difficulties finding other
possible research sites. Kyoko and I exchanged numerous emails between January and
February to discuss negotiation of entry to the volunteer activity program run by
Kanagawa Junior College.
Kyoko kindly offered to take my proposal to a conference held in Hawaii that
March, where two professors from Kanagawa Junior College were also attending. After
receiving positive results from Kyoko, I personally emailed both professors regarding the
65
possibility of meeting in April, my one week planned trip back to Japan, to discuss my
research request. Unfortunately, spring was the busiest time of the year for the program
staff members, visiting homes of foreign families every day and matching them with the
student volunteers, and I received a negative answer on the possibility of meeting in April
from Professor Murakami. However, I was advised to contact Professor Chaves at this
point, and I followed her advice, sending her three consecutive emails, without any
response. It was about a month later, when I had almost given up on the idea of
conducting research at Kanagawa Junior College, when Professor Murakami informed
me of the fact that Professor Chaves had not been receiving my numerous emails. I
panicked, but at the same time, I was delighted to hear back again. With Professor
Murakami’s advice, I emailed Professor Chaves again, using two of my different email
accounts, to her two different email accounts.
Within two weeks, I received a positive answer from Professor Murakami, and it
seemed like I had my first step into the entrance of the program. However, soon after, I
received another email from Professor Murakami who listed five of Professor Chaves’
concerns about having a researcher entering the families’ homes, and questions regarding
my research design. First of all, she was concerned about introducing an individual’s
home to a researcher. In this case, the families’ permissions had to be obtained (second
concern). Thirdly, she indicated some anxiety towards a researcher recording the tutoring
sessions. Fourthly, she was skeptical on how I could make any generalizations with six
months of observing four families. Lastly, Professor Chaves had some concerns about the
questionnaire I planned to distribute to the students at college. I had requested to
distribute the questionnaire to the volunteer students as well as the non-volunteer students,
66
and Professor Chaves felt she had no control over the students who were not participating
in the program. These were all reasonable and sincere concerns from someone who had
the responsibility to protect the families, and who was a researcher herself. I felt like I
was back to the start line of negotiation.
With Professor Murakami’s suggestion and Kyoko’s kind offer, I decided to ask
Kyoko to visit Professor Chaves during her return back to Japan for a conference. Within
the next two weeks, Kyoko and I strategized by email on how to respond to her concerns,
and Kyoko took my response to her meeting with Professor Chaves on May 30, 2007.
Kyoko emailed me the following day saying that Professor Chaves’ response was not
very clear. Kyoko sensed that as long as I did not disturb the harmony of the program,
she would agree to my research request. I was informed that Professor Chaves was
preparing a formal letter of response, and I awaited that letter. Within a few days, I
received the letter from her reiterating her concerns, and her offer to meet with me when I
returned to Japan in the fall. From here it was a smooth ride. Professor Chaves started
calling this project “our project” and when I visited her and the program coordinators on
campus in September, I was treated with the utmost welcome. Overall, the negotiation
process was a rough jet coaster ride (at my computer), and without Professor Murakami
and Kyoko’s endless sincere help, my negotiation of entry to the program would not have
been successful. They had the greatest sympathy towards me, having been in the same
shoes themselves, conducting their Ph.D. dissertation research recently.
At the first meeting with Professor Chaves and the two coordinators, they
immediately came up with four families which they thought might be of interest to me. A
Peruvian family, a Cambodian family, a Brazilian/Peruvian family, and a Vietnamese
67
family. Their criteria for choosing these families were issues of language,
representativeness, ease of entry and communication, a certain length of participation in
the program, diversity of language and ethnic backgrounds, and family composition with
multiple generations. These were all thoughtful criteria, and nicely matched with my own
ideas of the families, except one. I had thought I would research children born in other
countries, and have migrated to Japan recently. However, most of the children in the
families were second generation, and were born in Japan. This meant that the children’s
Japanese as a “second language” proficiency and development was going to be different
than those who had just migrated to Japan. However, these were the typical children the
program was serving, and who consisted the majority of foreign students in the public
schools nowadays. Therefore, these were the children I needed to study, and I had to shift
my focus and mentality towards a different paradigm: from children learning Japanese as
a second language to children of Japanese as a stronger language maintaining their home
language.
3.2.2 Negotiating entrance to the families
My first visits to the families’ homes were with the student tutors or the program
staff. The three families, Peruvian, Cambodian, and Vietnamese, happily accepted my
research request and my offer of tutoring. They did not object to the idea of receiving
extra tutoring from me, and above all, they were happy to open up their homes to a
researcher and share their stories. The Brazilian/Peruvian family rejected my request for
various reasons, including language anxiety of communication. They also had some
personal issues which they did not wish to expose to an outsider like myself. Instead, in
November, 2007, the program staff introduced me to another delightful Peruvian family,
68
with whom I still keep in touch. However, I had to make the difficult decision of
excluding their data from this study, for two reasons. First of all, the length of their
observation was not as long as the other three families. Secondly, it is safe to say that
their family history and experience was somewhat similar to the other Peruvian family,
and I chose the first family as a representative of Japanese descent Peruvian family. In
Table 3-1, participants’ ages and family compositions are shown.
Table 3-1: Participants’ Ages and Family Compositions (*Focal participants)
Pseudonyms
Country
Relations
Cambodia
Father
Mother
Daughter
Daughter’s
husband
Daughter
Daughter
Son
Forties
Forties
Twenties
Twenties
Father
Fifties
Calista
Yoko
Mother
Daughter
*Rokuro
Son
Forties
19/ college
freshman
7/ grade 1
Ryo
Botum
Mealea
Sann
Tevy
Reina
*Taro
Vasco
Chinh
Thi
Cam
*Ngoc
Thanh
No
pseudonyms
20
Peru
Vietnam
Peru
Age/ Grade
Twenties
19/ HS senior
6/ preschooler
Nationality/
Place of birth
Japanese
Cambodian
Japanese
Japanese
Japanese
Japanese/
Born in Japan
Japanese
Peruvian
Peruvian
Born in Peru
Born in Japan
Father
Mother
Mother’s
cousin
Daughter
Son
Father
Thirties
Thirties
17
Vietnamese
Vietnamese
Vietnamese
8/ grade 2
7/ grade 1
Forties
Mother
Son
Daughter
Forties
15/ JHS
senior
6/ preschooler
Born in Japan
Born in Japan
Japanese
Peruvian
Peruvian
Born in Japan
Born in Japan
Tutoring
subjects
Japanese
Kokugo20
Math
Kokugo
Math
Kokugo
Math
English
Kokugo
Math
Kokugo, its literal translation ‘national language,’ is a Japanese language academic subject in school.
69
3.2.3 Negotiating entrance to the schools
In February, 2008, after I felt more confidence in my relationships with the
program staff members and the families, I started negotiation of entrance to the public
schools the children attended. First, I consulted the program staff members on how to
approach the schools. Professor Murakami had suggested me that I ask the program
coordinator, Ms. Maekawa, to introduce me to the schools, since she had some contacts
with children’s Japanese teachers at school. However, Ms. Maekawa advised me to seek
permission from the “authority” first; the City Board of Education. Therefore, I visited
three cities’ Boards of Education, where the three families lived, with my research
proposal in hand, and received permission and contacts of school principals. At this point,
one junior high school principal rejected my request since it was getting close to the end
of the school year and they were busy with school events. Then, I contacted the school
principals of four elementary schools where the children attended, and met with them to
discuss my research proposal. They all kindly agreed to my request, and I started school
visitations and classroom observations in March, 2008. It was absolutely the appropriate
order to approach the Board of Education first, since once I got the permission from the
“authority”, the school principals treated me well and the rest went quite smoothly.
3.3 Researcher’s Sociocultural Positioning in the Site
Entering the Kanagawa Junior College as a graduate student and researcher from
the US was somewhat unusual, and presented me as an outsider initially. Before starting
graduate school I had many years of Japanese teaching experience, and with my major in
linguistics, researching educational issues, the program staff treated me as a qualified
researcher, rather than a graduate student. However, once I started participating in the
70
Volunteer Home Tutoring program as a tutor with the other students, I felt more
comfortable walking into the Kate-bora (short for 家庭教師ボランティア“Kateikyōshi
borantia” [Home tutor volunteer]) office to borrow teaching materials. Sometimes, the
staff and the college students saw me as an expert in Japanese language teaching,
linguistics or US education. For instance, when students came in to ask advice for which
teaching materials to use, and if I happened to be there, the staff directed their attention to
me, and I happily gave them advice. Other times, Ms. Maekawa asked me about
linguistic theory and US education, and we engaged in lengthy discussions. Students who
were interested in studying abroad asked me for information on schools in the US. There
was a student interested in bilingualism, and another student interested in code-switching
whom I had the opportunity to share our data and she continued to collect data for me up
until January, 2009 (with the family’s permission). I was privileged to have these
encounters and opportunities, and happily gave out my meishi [business card] I had
prepared for this research project, and offered any further assistance I might be able to
give. Therefore, the student volunteers certainly did not perceive me as one of them even
if I was participating in the program as a volunteer tutor. I was a graduate researcher from
the US, and above all, I was quite older than them, being in my thirties.
Age was certainly an issue to the families and children too. When Ms. Maekawa
initially mentioned my interest in tutoring the children and my research interest to the
Vietnamese family, the mother hesitated by saying “I don’t mind, but my child might say
student teachers are okay but not an adult teacher, so I will ask her.” After all, the student
tutors were teenagers, or in their early twenties, from one of the most prestigious
women’s colleges in Japan. I certainly did not fit in that kind of category any more.
71
However, once I met the families and children, they were happy to have me. Even though
they were curious to know my age, they did not ask me directly right away, conforming
to the cultural rule of being sensitive about requesting a woman’s age. In December, 2007
two months after meeting the families, the Cambodian mother asked my age and whether
I had children. The neighbor pointed at my gray hair which was starting to show, saying
“same as me” commenting on her own. In April, 2008, the Peruvian family asked my
marital status and whether I had children. They had noticed the ring on my finger, but the
daughter said, “Dad thought you might not be married because you are a grad student.”
From their perspective, I was a little unusual “grad student,” in my late thirties, without
children, married but living temporarily apart from my husband. When the Cambodian
boy found out that I was married and lived separately, he exclaimed “(Your husband)
lives in the US, isn’t that strange?”
The peculiarity of my existence was more prominent to the children, especially
because I was different from the other student tutors. First of all, the other tutors came in
groups, and I generally came by myself. The Peruvian boy asked me a few times in the
beginning, “Why did you come alone?” Secondly, the student tutors came only on
weekdays, and I came on weekends too. When I made my research request to the
Peruvian family, the father had suggested me to come on Saturdays, so that I can see how
their daily lives are and have meals together, and sleep over if I wanted to. Even if I did
not take those offers to the fullest extent, visiting on Saturdays gave me extra time to
spend with the boy such as playing outside after studying. Thirdly, the student tutors
stayed for one hour, whereas I stayed at their homes as long as possible. My first visit to
the Vietnamese home which lasted for only ten minutes was extended to a regular two
72
hours and a half tutoring sessions by November, 2007. Lastly, the student tutors came on
school days only, whereas I came on holidays and during school breaks too. I explained
to the children with my sincerest intention not to “expect the same from the other tutors,
because they are full time students, and cannot afford the time even if they wanted to.”
I was most cautious not to present myself as a “professional tutor.” The program
was providing volunteer tutors, and I was a participant observer. Besides, it would not be
fair for the other student tutors to be compared to someone like myself who had the full
time and commitment to pour on these families and children. Therefore, I limited my
preparation time for the tutoring sessions to the minimum, and I certainly did not write
lesson plans, which I would normally do for paid private tutoring. I did not prepare many
teaching materials myself, but made the most out of the resources at the Kate-bora office,
books at home, and online resources. This is not to say that the student tutors did not
spend any time preparing for their tutoring sessions. Some wrote detailed professional
lesson plans in their journal reports, and prepared custom-made teaching materials to
meet the learners’ individual needs. However, they were not the norm, and I did not want
to make a habit of it.
Overall, it was a struggle for me to balance my position as a volunteer tutor and a
researcher. As a caring tutor to the children, I wanted to devote all my efforts so that they
would do well academically. At the same time, I wanted to encourage them to be
multicultural and multilingual. As I saw them struggling to answer my interview
questions, I wanted to tell them “It is okay to be Peruvian and Japanese at the same time.
You don’t have to choose one over the other!” However, as a researcher, I wanted to
observe how tutors are affecting their language learning and identity constructions, and I
73
certainly could not lead their interview responses. In either case, consequences of my
dual participation in the program as a tutor and a researcher are inevitable, and the data
must be interpreted cautiously.
My relationships with each family were very good, but slightly different from
family to family. The Cambodian family accepted me as one of the many student tutors
they already had. The program coordinator requested me to participate together with
another student tutor, and I got to know the other tutors well. Since I visited the family
more often than the other tutors, on holidays and during school breaks as well, the family
saw me as a communication line to the whole group. When they wanted to throw a dinner
party for all their tutors, the father asked me to contact the tutors and ask their availability.
After consulting the program coordinators and contacting the tutors, I suggested a day,
and five of us were able to make it to the dinner party. Since I mainly tutored the mother
for her Japanese learning, I had a close relationship especially with her.
The Peruvian family was the most prepared to accept me as a researcher. They
have had similar requests before, where a researcher repeatedly visited for approximately
two months. However, the visits were not as intense as my weekly visits which lasted for
a total of eight months. On October 18, 2007, at my third visit to their home, I met the
daughter who was fluent in both Japanese and Spanish. She openly told me about her
background of being born in Peru, and when she came to Japan as a two year old. On the
same day, the father joined our conversation, and as he eagerly told me about his
daughter’s language in Spanish, the bilingual daughter translated his speech into Japanese
for me. Even though my actual tutoring did not start until the following week, I became
the closest to the son whom I tutored one on one for approximately eight months.
74
The Vietnamese parents were the most difficult to communicate with, since they
were rarely home. Therefore, I had to depend on the eight-year-old daughter, and most of
the decisions were made by her, such as the tutoring days and times. She also made the
decision to invite her neighbor friends to the tutoring sessions without asking me, or the
program coordinators. Since the program policy was to provide one on one tutoring, they
preferred to know who needed tutoring so that they could provide enough volunteers.
However, the fact that I or the daughter did not abide to their policy made me somewhat
uncomfortable. In the end, I had to trust my own evaluation that it was not causing any
harm to the family or the program. Above all, the daughter and her friends enjoyed
studying together, and the girls trusted me as a reliable tutor.
Lastly, visiting the children’s schools presented me with a challenging task of
positioning myself appropriately in front of their classmates and teachers. My first
priority was not to make my participants feel uncomfortable or embarrassed by my visit.
On the first day of my visits, I requested the teachers to introduce me simply as a
“graduate student from the US,” and not to associate me directly with the participants I
came to observe. However, this message was not always conveyed successfully to the
classroom teachers, and even if it did, the classmates soon found out that I was their
“private Japanese tutor.” In contrast to my expectations, in the end my participants did
not mind having me around at school. One of them proudly told their classmate that I was
from the US, and he was studying English with me, which was true. During my second
visit to Japan, I started teaching English to the children, with their request. In either case,
I carefully positioned myself in the classrooms, trying not to be too close to my
participants physically and mentally.
75
3.4 Data Collection
Data collected for this ethnographic research extends to various sources from my
fieldnotes to student journals. The following data sources numbered (1) to (9) were
employed for analysis to maintain the focus of this project. The remaining sources were
occasionally referred to confirm information. However, detailed analysis is left for future
discussions to answer additional research questions.
1) Fieldnotes and transcribed audio recordings based on participant observations of four
families’ tutoring sessions from October 2007 to April 2008-- the last few sessions were
recorded in April, a total of 12 recorded observations. This process is further discussed in
section 3.4.1 below.
2) Study materials and writings produced during the tutoring sessions by six children-these are displayed in Chapter Five.
3) Audio recordings and transcripts of interviews with 19 family participants and friends,
all in their homes, on their background and participation in the Volunteer Home Tutoring
program, conducted between February and April 2008-- one to two interviews were
conducted with each family member, each interview averaging half an hour to two hours.
This is further discussed in section 3.4.2 below. See Appendix One for interview
questions.
4) Fieldnotes of children’s schools and classroom observations, four schools visited in
March and April, 2008-- two to three visits were paid to each school, including the first
meeting with the principal, vice principal, and the teachers, in some cases. Most of the
school observations were for a full day, except one visit of 2 class periods observation,
and teacher interviews. This is further discussed in section 3.4.3 below.
76
5) Audio recordings and transcripts of interviews with 10 school teachers, at school, at a
restaurant, and in a car, on multicultural children, conducted in March and April 2008-out of the 10, two interviews were not audio recorded by request of the teachers. One to
two interviews were conducted with each teacher, each ranging in length between half an
hour and an hour and a half, a total of approximately six hours. The findings from these
interviews will be discussed in Chapter Six. See Appendix Two for interview questions.
6) Audio recordings and transcripts of interviews with four Volunteer Home Tutoring
program staff members, at college and at a restaurant, about the program, conducted
between November 2007 and February 2008-- one to two interviews were conducted with
each staff member, each lasting for approximately half an hour to an hour and a half, a
total of nearly six hours. Information from these interviews is summarized in Chapter
Four. See Appendix Three for interview questions.
7) Literature and primary source documents on the program guidelines and history-information summarized in Chapter Four.
8) Primary source documents from participants’ schools and teachers on multicultural
children-- information integrated in Chapter Six.
9) Nearly 70 photos taken at school, around the neighborhood, and at special events-these are displayed in Chapters Four and Seven.
10) Audio recordings and transcripts of interviews with nine student volunteers, at the
college, at Kate-bora office, and at a restaurant, about the program and the families they
tutored, conducted in January and February 2008-- one interview was conducted with
each or a pair of two tutors, approximately half an hour long each, a total of over two and
77
a half hours of recording. These interviews were not analyzed for discussion to maintain
focus of this study. See Appendix Four for interview questions.
11) Student journals written and submitted to the program by student volunteers who
tutored the four participant families between the years 1998 to 2008-- after each tutoring,
students wrote their journals on the computer, and submitted them online. These journals
were not analyzed for discussion. Detailed analysis is left for future study on student
volunteers’ attitudes toward the participants.
12) Language attitude survey distributed and collected from 113 students, out of which
30 were volunteer tutors-- the survey asked to agree or disagree on 10 language related
statements on the scale of seven, and provided spaces to write in optional comments.
They were distributed in one of the professor’s lecture classes on linguistics, as well as to
volunteer tutors who participated in my interviews. This survey was not analyzed for
discussion. Again, to maintain focus of this study, detailed analysis on language attitudes
of the students will be left for future study. See Appendix Five for the survey.
Table 3-2 summarizes the types of data collected on the four families, with three focal
participants marked with an asterisk.
78
Table 3-2: Focal Participants and Their Data
Fieldnotes
/Tutoring
duration
Ryo
Botum21
Mealea
Sann
Tevy
Reina
Taro*
Vasco
Calista
Yoko22
Rokuro*
Chinh
Thi
Cam
Ngoc*
Thanh23
Father
Mother
Son
Daughter
10/07-4/08
10/07-4/08
10/07-4/08
# of
recorded
sessions/
Interviews
0/1
3/1
0/1
0/1
3/2
0/2
0/2
0/2
2/1
School
visits
2
2
Teacher
interviews
Tutor
interviews
Tutor
journal
3
‘04-‘08
2
‘06-‘08
1
‘06-‘08
2
2
0/1
10/07-4/08
10/07-4/08
11/07-4/08
11/07-4/08
3/1
2/1
0/1
0/1
4/1
4/0
‘98-‘04
2
2
2
2
2
2
’05-‘08
’07-‘08
2
1
’06-‘08
’00-‘08
’07-‘08
3.4.1 Participant observation of tutoring sessions
During the tutoring sessions, I was the tutor fully committed to study with the
children. Therefore, I was a participant observer and I did not take any fieldnotes during
the sessions. The fieldnotes were written on the train ride back to my home, a total of
approximately two hours train ride. The first long train ride was usually a pleasant one,
being able to sit, since it was late, it was an inbound train, and the stations were so far out
from the center of Tokyo. I spent this one hour concentrated on typing frantically on my
21
Botum’s neighbor, Samnang and her daughter, Kolab were occasionally included in the data.
Yoko’s friend from her previous part-time job was also interviewed.
23
Thanh did not always participate in the tutoring sessions. However, he appears in my fieldnotes every
day.
22
79
“palm pilot” in English using my two thumbs. It was an old device, but conveniently
small, and communicated with my old computer at home. The second train ride was a
nightmare, a typical crowded Tokyo train which I had to stand, having to hold my device
in my left hand typing with one thumb, and the other hand holding on to anything
available attached to the train. The third train took me further to outside the suburbs of
Tokyo, to my home. By that time, I had full two files of fieldnotes, and I always stopped
there. I kept the fieldnotes in “palm pilot” for a week, and downloaded them onto my
computer on weekends. I also made a copy of backups on a removable memory stick.
However, once I made a mistake of erasing one of the fieldnotes in the process of moving
the files. Once was enough, and I never made the same mistake again, making sure to
backup often.
The recordings of the tutoring sessions did not take place until April 2008, as
noted above. The reasons for this was because the program staff members showed great
concern about the tutoring sessions being recorded, for the possibility of losing the trust
among the families which was cultivated over the years of their participation in the
program. In addition, I simply considered the recordings to be supplementary data, if any.
However, when I interviewed the family and the children using a small digital recorder,
the children were quite amused with this device. They wanted to learn how to use the
device, they recorded funny voices, and they requested to listen to the recordings over
and over again. Seeing that the children did not show any anxiety over the fact that this
recorder was turned on during the interviews, on the contrary showing great curiosity, I
decided to consult the program staff for the possibility of recording the final few tutoring
sessions in April, 2008. By that time, I had gained substantial trust from the program staff
80
members, and they kindly agreed to my request, as long as I was able to obtain
permissions from the families. All the families had already agreed to my research request
and signed the consent forms, which stated my recordings of their tutoring sessions in the
procedures section, and upon my consecutive requests, they agreed without reluctance.
The digital recorder was taken out of my bag at the start of the tutoring sessions,
and I always asked for verbal permission from the parents, if they were home, and from
the children, every time before I turned on the recorder. I usually put the recorder
between them and myself on the table, if there was space. When the table was too small, I
put it on the floor close to myself. I let the device record until I left the home. Sometimes,
the interviews turned into tutoring sessions, and the device kept on recording through the
sessions. At other times, the recorder kept on running through our meal conversations, at
homes where they invited me to join them for lunch or dinner. In either case, this small
and quiet device was almost unnoticeable to the participants, except when the children
wanted to play with it. One participant who showed reluctance of being recorded was the
Cambodian mother. Or rather, she was showing her lack of confidence in her Japanese
saying, “I can’t talk.” What she meant was “I can’t answer your interview questions in
Japanese.” I assured her that I just wanted to record our studying sessions, and I will talk
to her son later about the interview questions. She finally agreed. In sum, the recording
device gave minimum interruptions to the tutoring sessions.
3.4.2 Family Interviews
I patiently waited until I felt close rapport with the families to conduct the
interviews, so that they felt comfortable to tell me their stories and opinions. In February,
I conducted the first interview with the Peruvian daughter who was the most capable and
81
readily available to tell me her experiences in Japanese. Next, I attempted to schedule
interviews with the parents on weekends, since they were not available on weekdays. I
interviewed the mother and the father together, except the Vietnamese parents, whose
father was too busy to make time for my interview. The Peruvian parents were
accompanied by their daughter who played the role of a language broker translating
Japanese to Spanish, Spanish to Japanese back and forth. The Cambodian father
translated partially for the mother whose Japanese was not as fluent as his. The children’s
interviews were typically conducted before or after the tutoring sessions.
The interviews were semi-structured with a list of topics and questions, so they
gave me a degree of control over the course of the interview, a great deal of flexibility,
and privileged access to the families’ lives (Nunan, 1992). The children were asked about
their language use, attitudes, identities, and about their tutors and studying. The parents
were asked about their backgrounds, language use, attitudes, children’s identities, and
about their participation in the Volunteer Home Tutoring program. Occasionally, due to
time constraint or to the necessity of revising my interview questions, second follow-up
interviews were conducted. As mentioned above, a small digital recorder was used for the
interviews, and gave minimum disruption to the course of the conversations.
Although my sociocultural positioning as a tutor and a researcher inevitably
presented inequitable relationships with the tutored participants, my unique status as an
outsider US-based graduate student gave the families enough curiosity and willingness to
converse with me openly. First of all, they had truly remarkable life histories and
interesting stories they wanted to share with me. The Cambodian father told me about his
experience at the Refugee Center, and took this opportunity to express his opinion on
82
how Japanese people should accept refugees as resources, not as burdens. Secondly, the
families showed sincere appreciation toward my dedication to teach their children and my
genuine interest in their lives. The Peruvian family said that they wanted to show their
appreciation for my tutoring their child by helping me out with my project, and kindly
offered their time and stories to me. Therefore, the bias and negative effects of our
relationships on the content of the interviews were minimal.
3.4.3 School and Classroom Observations
Visiting schools and observing children’s classes provided me with more
challenging tasks than my weekly visits to the children’s homes. Since I waited until the
last minute to visit their schools, for the same reason I waited to conduct my interviews, I
only managed to visit each school twice. Therefore, there was no time to build rapport
with the teachers and students. Most of the times my first visitation to their class turned
out to be the first time for me to meet the teachers, and I was a complete outsider to them.
As I mentioned above, I tried not to position myself too close to my participants, unless
they wanted me to notice them. After the teacher had briefly introduced me to class, I
usually positioned myself at the back of the classroom, seated on an extra chair which
was not used by other students. Whenever possible, I tried to walk around the classroom
to get a better view of my participants and the surrounding students. I took notes on my
“palm pilot,” and the students quickly noticed the device they had never seen before.
They asked me with curiosity, “Is it a telephone? Are you writing in English?” Since they
could not read English, I did not hesitate to show the device to the children. Besides, I did
not want them to be suspicious of what I was writing, and hiding the device would have
aroused more suspicion. However, the teachers were concerned that they might break my
83
device, and told the students not to touch it. In this type of way, my presence created a
small amount of disturbance in the classroom, but minimal impact to my participants
whom I was extremely careful about.
The school principals were open to having me as an ‘authorized’ visitor from a
university in the US, researching students of foreign descent. They were very much
aware of the growing number of such students in their schools, and shared the same
concerns as mine. They agreed without reluctance to my request of observing a whole
day of regular classes as well as kokusai classes [international classes, equivalent to JSL
classes] my participants attended. They also understood the longitudinal nature of my
research design, and welcomed me back the second time. I left the schools with a formal
“I will see you again” greetings, sent them a thank you note, and hoped that the
occasional district personnel reshuffling will not affect the principals’ school assignments.
I liked all the principals I met, and felt that they will welcome me back again.
My full day visitations allowed me to observe the school rituals starting with
morning assemblies until students lined up outside to go home as a group. After the
morning assembly, first period starts at 8:50. After the second period, there is a twenty
minute break when the students can go outside and play. Third and forth periods are
followed by lunch at 12:30. After lunch, students clean the assigned area in groups before
the afternoon classes start at 1:55. Including lunch time, there is a long break between the
forth period and fifth period. The students are dismissed after a class meeting called
“good-bye assembly.” The time and how many periods on a day depend on the weekdays
as well as schools. I followed my participants to kokusai class, which they were pulled
84
out periodically from their regular class. At the end of the school day, I interviewed the
teachers, thanked the principal, and left.
Table 3-3 is a timetable of the study. Readers should keep in mind that the
observation started in 2007 and continued onto 2008.
Table 3-3: Timeframe of the Study
Sept. 2007
Oct. 2007
Oct. 2007April 2008
Negotiation Negotiation Tutorings
of entry to of entry to
the
the families
program
Feb.-April Mar.-April
2008
2008
April
2008
Interviews School
with
visits
family
members
New
school
year
starts
Sept.Oct.
2008
Followup
study
3.5 Data Analysis
Following principles and guidelines of ethnographic research (Agar, 1980;
Merriam, 2001; Spindler, 1988; Spradley, 1980; Watson-Gegeo, 1988), I focused on a
few individuals’ behavior as representatives of a group (multicultural children in Japan).
Secondly, their behavior in micro contexts was seen as embedded in larger macro
contexts. Thirdly, although my data collection was guided by a theoretical framework
directing my attention to certain kinds of research questions, each situation investigated
was understood in its own terms. Data analysis was also governed by the principles of
ethnography, namely emic analysis, grounded theory (Strauss, 1987), and triangulation.
Emic refers to ‘culturally based perspectives, interpretations, and categories used by
members of the group under study to conceptualize and encode knowledge and to guide
their own behavior (Watson-Gegeo, 1988, p.580), and I aimed to build my analysis on
emic terms, concepts, and categories functionally relevant to the behavior of the
participants.
85
In order to generate theory, I conducted theoretical sampling, made constant
comparisons and used a coding paradigm. “Theoretical sampling” is “seeking samples of
population, events, activities guided by his or her emerging (if still primitive) theory
(Strauss, 1987, p.16).” This process is further discussed in section 3.5.1 below. I
triangulated my analysis by putting together information from different data sources and
data collected through different research methods. This is further discussed in section
3.5.2 below. For the audio-recorded interviews, I selected significant excerpts led by my
previous analysis, and I approached these data with discourse analysis. Interview analysis
is discussed further in section 3.5.3 below.
3.5.1 Coding Paradigm
I began creating a coding paradigm in November, 2007, when information from
different data sources started to accumulate. Intensive coding started in June, 2008, after I
had completed my follow-up visits back to Japan. I utilized ATLAS.ti, a qualitative
analysis software program, to organize and code all relevant data. Based on my research
questions, I made a list of basic thematic coding on “languages,” “identities,” and
“ideologies.” First, I began open coding on low-level codes which fall “close to the
primary record and requires little abstraction” (Carspecken, 1996, p. 146). I did so by
selecting “language related episodes.” A language related episode is defined as any part
of a dialogue where people “talk about the language they are producing, question their
language use, or correct themselves or others” (Swain & Lapkin, 1998, p.212). Here I use
this concept to code not only dialogues but also my fieldnotes where I wrote about the
language my participants were producing. For example, a passage in my fieldnote
“Calista used a little Spanish when scolding Rokuro” was coded as a language related
86
episode. High-level coding (ibid.) on identity issues and language ideologies took place
after low-level codes were developed. High-level codes are “dependent on greater
amounts of abstraction” (ibid, p. 148), and were used to select segments of field notes for
intensive analysis. For example, an utterance by one participant “I don’t have any foreign
friends” was coded as high-level “identity” issue to analyze the construction of this
participant’s self identification. Theoretical memos were taken to keep track of ideas
which were out of the scope of my research questions, but were relevant to the behavior
of the participants. Based on groundedness, I found themes such as children’s tutoring
activities reflected in the data. Groundedness was determined by the number of
associated quotations.
Low-level coding on language related episodes were categorized into “Japanese”
and “non-Japanese” interactions. Japanese episodes were further subcategorized into
“tutoring activities,” “proficiency,” and “use.” This allowed me to find the most salient
studying themes, and children’s strength and weaknesses in four skills; “reading,”
“writing,” “speaking,” and “listening”. The family members’ Japanese proficiency and
use were coded under these categories as well. Similarly, non-Japanese episodes were
subcategorized into “proficiency” and “use.” “Proficiency” of the participants’ home
language was not evaluated by the researcher, but was coded within language related
episodes, when they talked about their language proficiency. Non-Japanese use was
coded based on from whom to whom the utterance was directed, where it took place, and
for what purpose. This gave me a picture of to what extent children and the family
members spoke their home language, and for what purpose. Low-level coding aimed to
reference mainly objective features of the fieldnotes (Carspecken, 1996).
87
High-level coding was developed to match mainly children’s identity issues and
language ideologies in statements made by participants during the interviews
(Carspecken, 1996). Similar to language sub-categorization, sub-codes for identities were
constructed, “Japanese” and “non-Japanese.” Children expressed their identities in
various ways, and the coding scheme needed to capture their multiplicity. Their
multilingual identities were expressed through use of language and their cultural
identities were displayed in their participation in conversations as well as communityrelated activities. Culture was distinguished into “achievement culture,” “information
culture,” and “behavioral culture” (Hammerly, 1985). Achievement culture refers to the
various accomplishments of a given culture; buildings, highways, and arts, for example.
Information culture is the information about the culture; names of presidents and
descriptions of education are examples. Behavioral culture is behavior acquired, for the
most part, through daily socialization. Language ideology codes were generated into
monolingualism and multilingualism, occurring mainly in teachers’ interview responses.
For example, when one teacher said that she wanted her student “to acquire Vietnamese
well too,” this comment was coded as “multilingual ideology.” For coding purposes, I
define ideology as “sets of beliefs about language articulated by users” (Silverstein, 1979,
p. 193).
3.5.2 Triangulation
I felt triangulation was particularly an important strategy for arriving at valid
findings (Diesing, 1971) in my ethnographic work. Although my time frame was limited
to approximately eight months, I was able to collect various data sources through
different research methods. Findings in Chapter Five and Chapter Six on children at
88
home mainly drew upon fieldnotes from participant-observation of tutoring sessions. The
analysis of the fieldnotes was further developed from associated segments of interview
transcripts. My observed interactions were supported by explicit data elicited from
interviews with children and family members. For example, children’s attitudes toward
studying the Japanese language was observed, and then confirmed with their interview
responses. Children’s home language proficiency was evaluated by observation, and soon
after checked with parents’ evaluations. My analysis in these chapters was informed by
language socialization theory which brought my focus on interactional routines.
Findings in Chapter Seven on children at school were developed from fieldnotes
of school and classroom observations. The analysis was drawn upon teacher interviews,
photos, and documentations. Teacher interview data served the purpose of checking
suppositions developed during classroom observations. For instance, the non-use or rare
use of children’s home languages in school settings was confirmed in teachers’ interview
responses. Interview data was also referred to discuss school teachers’ ideas and
ideologies of multiculturalism. The photos supported my analysis in constructing the
level of multiculturalism in each school. The placement of items shown in photos was
also an indicator of how wide spread multiculturalism was in each school. Finally, school
documents triangulated my data by comparisons with my fieldnotes giving me answers to
questions on preliminary constructions.
Findings in Chapter Eight on children’s identities were written up by choosing
analytical emphasis on high-level coding. Emphasis was chosen by using children’s
interview analysis. Family members’ as well as teachers’ interviews were also helpful in
my decision making. For example, children’s identities were expressed in multiple ways,
89
by use of language, by engaging in conversations about cultural topics, and by
participating in cultural activities, such as the New Year’s Day party. These categories
were chosen by organizing my codes hierarchically and by matching the interview data.
The children’s interview responses on their identities were closely considered when
discussing their multiplicity. In fact, the interview process itself affected the way children
thought of themselves, and had to be interpreted with careful discourse analysis, which
will be discussed next.
3.5.3 Interview Analysis
To sum up, interview data collected for this study includes interviews with
children, family members, school teachers, program staffs, and volunteer students. As
mentioned in previous section, information from program staffs is summarized in Chapter
Four, and volunteer students’ interviews were not analyzed for discussions. Therefore,
interview data employed for discourse analysis was children’s interviews, family
members’ interviews, and school teachers’ interviews. Children’s interview responses
were particularly relevant to understand their identities. As mentioned above, the process
itself affected the way children talked about themselves. Some questions positioned them
in particular ways they had never thought of, and forced them to respond and position
themselves as they wished to be viewed. In order to capture these positionings, I adopted
the analytical concept of “positioning” proposed by Davies & Harré (1990). This process
is understood as two processes, one of which is “interactive positioning” which assumes
one individual positioning the other, and the other “reflexive positioning” which is the
process of positioning oneself (Blackledge & Pavlenko, 2001, 2004; Davies & Harré,
1990) (see Chapter Two, page 55).
90
Similarly, family members’ interview responses positioned the children in
specific ways, and their influence is inevitable, especially when the children were present
at the time of the interview, listening attentively to their family members talking about
the children. At the same time, children were socialized into the negotiation practices of
their own positioning. At times, children negotiated the “interactive positioning” assumed
by their parents, and reflexively positioned themselves in accordance with their own
beliefs about themselves. Later, this became a topic of discussion in one family, when
they realized that the child was constructing identities they had not expected. In other
cases, the parents were very much aware of their child’s identities, even though they
wished for different choices for their child. Therefore, family members’ interview
responses are integrated into the discussion of children’s multiple identities.
Teacher’s interview responses were analyzed for their ideas and ideologies of
multiculturalism, some of which reflected the ideologies of the school, and ultimately of
the Board of Education as a whole. In order to discuss language ideologies, Irvine &
Gal’s (2000) ideological process in which people connect language with their lived
experiences, will be adopted where applicable. The process erasure is discussed in
Chapter Two, pages 56 and 57.
3.6 Summary
Volunteer Home Tutoring program at Kanagawa Junior College turned out to be
an ideal place to examine children’s language, identity issues, and multiculturalism. Even
though the program staffs were reluctant to accept my research request in the beginning,
my (and Kyoko’s) perseverance, my sincere interest, and my willingness to fully
participate in the program as a volunteer tutor eventually got me through the entry. Once
91
I was inside the door, and after making every effort to earn their trust, the staffs kindly
cooperated with my request to the fullest extent. They were thoughtful in introducing me
to four multicultural families whose backgrounds were diverse, interesting, and
worthwhile to document. The four families welcomed me, and the children enjoyed my
tutoring sessions which resulted in trustworthy successful relationships.
In many ways, my approach worked well. I was successful in building rapport
with the program staff and the families, in conducting interviews, and in negotiating entry
to multiple schools. I was able to collect various data employing different research
methods to ensure triangulation. In all, careful research procedures along with my
position as a home tutor having access to the children’s homes created productive data
collection circumstances. While my interview method resulted in dependence on audio
recordings, it contributed to maximize opportunities of accurately documenting children’s
natural voices. In addition, my longitudinal approach helped build stronger relationships
with the families. It was extremely important that the families did not feel pressured to
participate in my research study. The strength of my research study lies in the maximal
accessibility to every day lives of the families on a long-term basis, as well as availability
of various data sources for multi-perspectives.
However, my presence as a participant observer, being both insider and outsider
simultaneously inevitably affected some aspects of data. As an insider tutor, I had control
of what can be done during tutoring sessions. As an outsider researcher interested in
children’s language and identity development, I inevitably directed interviewees’
attentions to these topics. For example, family members might have been compelled to
speak their home language more in front of me. Some program staff members were
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extremely careful to protect privacy of the families, and revealed less when the recording
device was turned on. Some school teachers were apologetic when responding to some of
my interview questions which asked how they treated multicultural students in their class.
Therefore, my positioning as a participant observer and a researcher is cautiously
integrated into data analysis.
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CHAPTER FOUR
THE PROGRAM AND THE PARTICIPANTS
In this chapter, I introduce the Volunteer Home Tutoring program which the
families of my research participated in, and the focal participants. In the first section, I
describe the program and the important personnel of the program. In the second section, I
introduce the participants in the order of their age, which will be kept constant throughout
my dissertation. This order suggests the developmental stages of multicultural children
through nursery school to lower grades in elementary school. For each focal child, I give
an overview of the family members, life histories of their migration, current living
situations, and their participation in the Volunteer Home Tutoring program. I start by
writing about Taro, the Cambodian boy who was in nursery school in the fall of 2007 and
winter of 2008, and entered elementary school in the spring of 2008. Taro’s description is
followed by Rokuro, the Japanese Peruvian boy in first grade elementary school
advancing to second grade. Finally is Ngoc, the Vietnamese girl in her second grade
moving onto grade three in the spring of 2008.
4.1 The Volunteer Home Tutoring program run by Kanagawa Junior College
The Volunteer Home Tutoring program by Kanagawa Junior College, a two year
woman’s college, started with students being baby-sitters or volunteer teachers at Sunday
classes serving Indochinese refugees in the community. After a while, students
participating in these classes proposed providing night classes at the Catholic Church.
However, children could not attend at the times when adults who work overtime can
attend, and the volunteer students could not get home until late. Therefore, this plan had
to be canceled, and finally the students came up with a new idea where they would stop
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by the refugees’ homes after their classes on the way home and help the children with
homework and studying for school as well as teaching Japanese to their family members.
In May 1988, 10 members from three Cambodian families living in the city where the
College is located participated, and since then applications increased every year. Recently
(December 2005) 157 families, a total of 291 members, participated in this program. In
addition, currently they are serving families who live outside of the city, as long as the
commute is on the students’ way home. Countries of origin of the participating families
in the program reflect the recent immigration policy amendments of accepting foreign
workers and refugees: Peru, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Brazil, other countries, Bolivia,
and China, in descending order (Kanagawa Junior College Website, 2007).
Junior college students are the main participants of the program, as graduating
students have been replaced by continuing and incoming students. The program
emphasizes the importance of personal and reliable relationships between the tutors and
the family, and that students are to take initiative in teaching Japanese with creativity.
Tutoring is available from Monday to Friday, in one hour sessions between 5 pm and
7pm to be arranged by consultation. Each one year term is for 9 months with the first
semester from April to July and second semester from September to January. One family
may have tutoring one to five times a week. One to one tutoring is the program’s
principle teaching method, and therefore one family has more than one tutor. In 2004 the
program was chosen as a “Distinguished Supporting Program for College Education” by
the Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology (Guide to Volunteer
Home Tutoring, 2006).
95
The main players of the program are the director and two coordinators. The
director and the founder of the program, Professor Chaves, or Sister Chaves, is a citizen
of Spain who came to Japan in 1962. She was born in Badajoz, a city on the border of
Spain and Portugal in 1940. In Spain, she went into a convent when she was 17 years old.
She was in the second year of college when she was sent to Japan to study abroad. When
she completed her graduate studies in theology in 1973, Kanagawa Junior College, a
Christian institution had just started. She has been teaching at the College ever since then.
When she came back from two years of leave in the Philippines, a tragic incident
happened in the same city where the college was located in. In her article titled “25 years
of Volunteer Activities in Kanagawa Junior College” Professor Chaves writes about the
tragedy as follows:
On February 8, 1987, a 36 year-old Cambodian refugee living in Higa, Bouy
Mouem, killed his two daughters (8 and 4), his son (6) and his wife (26). The
tragedy shook everyone living in Higa, and many other people throughout Japan.
Until that day, we were not aware of the existence of refugees living so close to us.
None of us knew of their hardships, their problems in trying to adjust to an
unknown country and culture, and the struggle they underwent in their daily lives
not being able to master a language they needed so much at all levels. But above
all, they had been cut off from other foreigners living in the same city of Higa.
Except perhaps for their neighbors, and the City Hall where they were registered,
nobody had any knowledge of them (Chaves, 1999, p.6).24
This incident triggered the creation of a citizen’s volunteer group to offer necessary help
to all refugees in the area. The Volunteer Home Tutoring program was born from this
volunteer group. Professor Chaves insists on not giving college credits to the students for
24
Bouy Mouem was sentenced to 12 years of imprisonment at hard labor, after a trial which had lasted for
four years and six months. Professor Chaves writes “The judge stressed in his sentence that, although
recognizing that the crimes deserved the death penalty, consideration should be given to the fact that Bouy
Mouen was in a weak psychological state of mind at the time of the murders. This situation was the result
of the problems existing in Japan when they accepted Indochinese refugees and failed to offer them proper
treatment and care. These events should provide cause for deep reflection on Japanese society’s attitudes
regarding refugees (XXX, 1999, p.8).” Bouy Mouen is currently in Cambodia, after completing eleven
years and ten months of imprisonment in Fuchu International Prison (Tokyo), being deported in 1998.
96
participating in this program, collecting pros and cons. She strongly believes that the
students must volunteer purely because they want to, and not because they want the
benefit of receiving units towards graduation, while others are open to the idea of
granting credits to the students for participating in the volunteer activity.
The first coordinator of the program, Ms. Maekawa, in her forties, has been
working in the program since spring 2006. She is a mother of two, a college student and a
junior high school student. Her husband works in Kyoto and is 単身赴任 tanshinfunin
[lives there apart from the family]. The family had lived in Florida, USA, 16 years ago,
where Ms. Maekawa attended an English class taught by volunteers at a community
church. This experience naturally connected her to this volunteer program, having much
sympathy for such immigrants who want to learn the language to express themselves. She
works part-time on Thursdays and Fridays from 12:30 to 5:30. Her responsibilities run
across all domains from student advising to budgetary concerns, writing responses to
student journals, email communications with the students, advising students’ teaching,
communications with schools, preparing paperwork for receiving funding from
foundations, equipping necessary materials for the program, and many more. Ms.
Maekawa evaluates the program’s success as both college students and children maturing
together, as follows.
学生さんの成長にはすごく役に立っているっていうのがひとつと、でもそ
れは対象者のためにやってることなので、学生の成長だけではね意味がな
いと思うんですけども、でもその学生たちの成長に従って学習者を見たと
きに特に私は子ども、親なものですから子どもの方に目が私も行くんです
けども、成人の日本の学習者よりも日本語の問題を抱えた子ども見たとき
に学生が成長することで、明らかに子どもが成長するんですね。その子ど
も達は、おそらく学校では能力があっても日本の教育システムの中ではほ
んとに隙間に落ち込んでしまう危険がある子ども達だと思うんですね。学
生たちが関わることで、変わっていく。
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Gakusei-san no seichō ni wa sugoku yaku ni tatte iru tte iu no ga hitotsu to, demo
sore wa taishōsha no tame ni yatte ru koto nanode, gakusei no seichō dake de wa
ne imi ga nai to omou n desu kedomo, demo sono gakuseitachi no seichō ni
shitagatte gakushūsha o mita toki ni toku ni watashi wa kodomo, oya na mono
desu kara kodomo no hō ni me ga watashi mo iku n desu kedomo, seijin no nihon
no gakushūsha yori mo nihongo no mondai o kakaeta kodomo mita toki ni gakusei
ga seichō suru koto de, akiraka ni kodomo ga seichō suru n desu ne. Sono
kodomotachi wa, osoraku gakkō de wa nōryoku ga atte mo nihon no kyōiku
shisutemu no naka de wa honto ni sukima ni ochikonde shimau kiken ga aru
kodomotachi da to omou n desu ne. Gakuseitachi ga kakawaru koto de, kawatte
iku.
[One point is that it plays a significant role in students’ growth, but (the program)
is doing it for the participants, so I think there is no meaning if it were just
students’ growth, but along with the students’ growth when you look at the
learners expecially I look at children, since I am a parent I look at children who
have problems with Japanese more than adult Japanese learners, along with the
students’ growth, the children clearly mature too. These children, probably at
school even if they are capable in a Japanese education system I think they are
really in danger of falling between the cracks. With the student’s involvement,
they start to change.]
The second coordinator, Ms. Adachi, in her thirties, is a graduate of Kanagawa
Junior College herself. After completing graduate school, she had spent 5-6 years abroad,
a few years of which she spent in South America where she acquired Spanish. Spanish
became handy in communicating with families from Peru, Bolivia and other South
American countries. She joined the program last spring on a one year part time contract.
She is in the office three days a week, Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays when Ms.
Maekawa is not in. Her main responsibility is student advising, including program
orientations at the start of each semester. Ms. Adachi repeats a similar evaluation of the
programs success, almost identical to Ms. Maekawa’s who sees college students’ growth
along with the families they tutor in this program.
この１年間関わってきていて、学生のその成長っていうのはほとんど報告
書で見るんですけれども、学生が成長すると、ほとんど同時にその学生に
関わっている家庭、子どもたち、大人も変わってるんですね。どちらがど
ちらを変えるとかではないと思うんですけれども、関わりの中で生まれる
絆や、関わりの中で生まれるその経験というものが、両方を育てていくも
98
のだと思ってますから、悪い良い関係なく、その中での成長っていうのが、
生徒、それから学生どっちも変えて、それである意味、崖っぷちにあって
もそこから落ちない。
Kono ichinenkan kakawatte kite ite, gakusei no sono seichō tte iu no wa hotondo
hōkokusho de miru n desu keredomo, gakusei ga seichō suru to, hotondo dōji ni
sono gakusei ni kakawatte iru katei, kodomotachi, otona mo kawatte ru n desu ne.
Dochira ga dochira o kaeru toka de wa nai to omou n desu keredomo, kakawari
no naka de umareru kizuna ya, kakawari no naka de umareru sono keiken to iu
mono ga, ryōhō o sodatete iku mono da to omotte masu kara, warui yoi kankei
naku, sono naka de no seichō tte iu no ga, seito, sorekara gakusei docchi mo
kaete, sore de aru imi, gakeppuchi ni atte mo soko kara ochinai.
[In this one year I was involved in this program, I see (evidence of) students’
growth mostly in the journals. Almost at the same time when the students grow,
the family- the children, the adults- who are tutored by the students also change. I
think it’s not the matter of which changes which, but I think the bonds which
emerged from the relationships, and the experiences which emerged from the
relationships nurture both. So whether bad or good, growth within them changes
both the students and the learners, and in a sense, even if they are on the edge of a
cliff they will not fall off.]
Another important supporter of the program is Professor Murakami who teaches
Japanese pedagogy related subjects at the College. She had joined the faculty in 2005
after the program was selected as the “Distinguished Supporting Program for College
Education,” responding to the needs for a Japanese education expert. She advises students
on how to teach Japanese, and consults with them on individual questions they might
have. During the first semester, she held a weekly consultation lunch hour, where a group
of students came to talk about the families they were tutoring. She also consulted students
who were in her Japanese pedagogy class, many of whom participated in the tutoring
program. However, she stresses the gap between what she teaches in her class and the
needs of the children being tutored. Most of these children do not need Japanese as a
Second Language (JSL) instruction, such as knowing the te form (conjugated verb form)
which is an example of the grammatical knowledge taught in her Japanese pedagogy
class. Therefore, she advises the students as follows.
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私が相談を受けたときにいつも言っているのは、逆の立場で考えてみなさ
いとか、自分が外国に行って、そのうちの家庭のように、親が仕事をして
いて、xxx こういう状況にあって、そういうときに、そこの国の大学生の
お姉さんが自分のうちに来てくれて、そういう時間を持つっていうことが、
どんな意味があるかなっていうことを考えなさいという言葉を言ってます。
Watashi ga sōdan o uketa toki ni itsumo itte iru no wa, gyaku no tachiba de
kangaete minasai toka, jibun ga gaikoku ni itte, sono uchi no katei no yō ni, oya
ga shigoto o shite ite, xxx kō iu jyōkyō ni atte, sō iu toki ni, soko no kuni no
daigakusei no onē-san ga jibun no uchi ni kite kurete, sō iu jikan o motsu tte iu
koto ga, donna imi ga aru kana tte iu koto o kangaenasai to iu kotoba o itte masu.
[When I am asked for advice I always tell them: “Think from their perspectives. If
you go to a foreign country, like the family (you are tutoring) where the parents
are working: if you were in such situation, and a college student “big sister” of
that country came to your home, and spent time with you, think about what kind
of meaning that would have for you.” That is what I tell them.]
Living in the US with her newly born son for three and a half years almost as a “single
mother” (her husband had returned to Japan) while finishing up her Ph.D., Professor
Murakami had great sympathy for such children who lacked parental support on
educational needs.
Professor Chaves along with Ms. Maekawa and Ms. Adachi works extremely hard
to run this program effectively. Ms. Maekawa and Ms. Adachi work overtime outside of
their office hours daily, and their extra hours are not paid. At the start of the school year,
Professor Chaves and Ms. Maekawa visit most of the families to check the location of
their homes to confirm that students can safely commute, and talk to the family to
determine their needs and availability. Once they meet the families and have a feel of
what kind of tutor would be a best match, they assign the students according to their class
schedules in the evening and location of their homes. This is the busiest time of the
school year at the Volunteer Home Tutoring office which is located on the second floor at
the end of the corridor at Kanagawa Junior College. Without these dedicated staff
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members’ sacrifice of their time, this program would not have grown to the extent it has
today.
The Kate-bora office, an abbreviation of 家庭教師ボランティア Kateikyōshi
borantia [Home tutor volunteer], was visited by student tutors daily. Students came in to
find teaching materials, to pick up announcements and information for the families, to
consult the coordinators with any issues they might have, or just to chat with them. The
office held a library of teaching materials, school textbooks, and academic books on
multiculturalism. There was abundance of teaching materials for children to adults. There
were karuta card games, picture books, and music CDs for children, and JSL textbooks
for adults. These materials were purchased using the “Distinguished Supporting Program
for College Education” grant the program received in 2004. Before I turn to the three
main participants of my research, I will explain the Japanese writing system, which is a
part of my research context.
There are three (or four) writing systems in Japanese: hiragana, katakana, and
kanji (and rōmaji, which is the use of the Roman alphabet to write the Japanese language).
Japanese literacy is taught in elementary school starting from grade one in an academic
subject class called kokugo, its literal translation, “national language.” Hiragana, which
is used for function words and inflectional endings as well as words of Japanese origin,
and katakana, which is used mainly for words borrowed from other languages and words
for sounds, are taught during the first semester of grade one. However, Japanese children
typically learn these two types of characters prior to their entry to elementary school at
home or in kindergarten. Each hiragana and katakana character represents one mora,
bringing up the total count to 92. On the other hand, Kanji, or Chinese characters
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represent meanings, and are used for content words. They are introduced around the
second semester, and students learn 80 characters by the end of grade one. An additional
160 are introduced by the end of grade two, a total of 1,006 characters by elementary
school graduation. Japanese students continue their learning of kanji through high school
education to reach 1945, a list announced officially by the Japanese Ministry of
Education, viewed as being necessary for daily functions such as reading newspapers.
Now I turn to the three main participants of my research, who were introduced by
the staff members after careful selection. A table of participants’ ages and family
compositions is shown in Chapter Three.
4.2 Participants
4.2.1 Taro
Taro, a six-year-old Cambodian boy, a naturalized Japanese citizen, was born in
Kanagawa, Japan in the fall of 2001. He had a Japanese family name and a Cambodian
first name, which in its shortened form could be a Japanese name. Cambodian first names
are shortened into a few last syllables to be used as a nickname, and “Taro” was the last
two syllables of his Cambodian name. Therefore, his name was written in several
different ways, in hiragana, katakana, or kanji. Taro started going to nursery school
when he was one year old. He was at school from 8:00 in the morning until 6:00 in the
evening most week days, and he liked to play on the swings and slides. At the time of the
research, he liked to play with his toys and Game Boy, a handheld video game, and watch
anime, animated cartoons, on TV. He was a social boy who enjoyed the company of the
neighbors and tutors in his home. When he grew up, Taro wanted to become a dancer
who could do「なんかかっこいいダンス、かっこいーなんかロボットみたいでも
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いいし、普通の早い***ダンスでもいいし」“Nanka kakkoii dansu, kakkoī nanka
robotto mitai demo ii shi, futsū no ano hayai***dansu demo ii shi.” 25 [Like cool dance,
cool like a robot is also okay, or regular fast***dance is okay too.]26 Perhaps break dance,
a hip hop dance style, was what he meant.
Taro’s father, Ryo, now in his forties, came to Japan in 1990 through a refugee
camp in Thailand. Back in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, in 1981, Ryo was a sophomore in
college27 studying literature, when he transferred to a teacher training program to fill in
the shortage of highly educated teachers who vanished under the Pol Pot dictatorship.
After six months of training, he became a science and physics teacher at a junior high
school. When he was teaching his class, he happened to compare foreign aid trucks from
Japan and France, to those made in East Germany and former Soviet Union which they
had been using. He made a point that capitalism allows competition and produces good
quality trucks, whereas communism does not allow competition, and therefore
technology will not develop. Listening in to his lecture, the school principal urged him to
flee for his life, worrying that their communist children might inform their parents.
When Ryo was in the refugee camp in Thailand, he chose to come to Japan and
took an interview test and passed. The reason he chose Japan was because he thought
since Japanese are Asians they are no different from Cambodians, and therefore there will
be less bullying compared to western countries. On the contrary, he had experienced
bullying and discrimination in stores and at work since coming to Japan. At a department
25
Multicultural children and family members’ quotes are rough transcription and some filler words are
omitted. Non-native sounds are edited to Japanese sounds to the extent of comprehensibility with the best
judgement of the author.
26
Quotes are translated by the author to retain fragmentary nature of the original utterances to reflect the
level of Japanese proficiency of the speakers.
27
At that time in Cambodia, primary education was for six years, secondary education, seven years, and
then higher education was pursued.
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store, he was followed by a shop clerk as if he was going to shop lift not even receiving
an exchange of greetings, which would usually happen with a polite Japanese shop clerk.
At work, he was stared at, and received verbal bullying such as「お前は日本語わから
ないからかえろ***国へかえろ」 “Omae wa Nihongo wakaranai kara kaero *** kuni
e kaero.” [You don’t understand Japanese so go home, *** go home to your country.]
The biggest disappointment and regret for choosing Japan as a country of destination
came when his future dream for pursuing further studying and developing his Japanese
language ability by going to college was shattered. When he came to Japan in 1990, he
first spent nine months at International Refugee Assistance Center in Shinagawa, Tokyo,
to prepare for settlement and to learn Japanese. When leaving the center, he wanted to go
back to college and study, and he asked the center for assistance to seek such future paths.
However, the staff responded that「いま日本の政府はあなたたちを受けられるのは
勉強のためじゃなくて仕事のためですよ」“Ima Nihon no seifu wa anatatachi o
ukerareru no wa benkyō no tame ja nakute shigoto no tame desu yo.” [At this point the
Japanese government can accept you not for studying but (only) for work.] Even then, he
did not give up but pursued his studies through a correspondence course to earn a
Japanese high school diploma, while working at an automobile company in Kanagawa.
Currently, he works at a lathe machinery company where he programs the machine to cut
plastic and rubber. Ryo also serves as a chief of social section of Cambodian Community
in Japan, where he organizes gatherings, concerts, and fund-raisings for the Cambodian
communities in need.
Once Ryo settled down in Japan, he invited his family over from Cambodia, and
his wife, Botum, and his three daughters came to Japan in 1995. Botum, now in her
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forties, had graduated secondary school in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, and became an
elementary school teacher. Because of the shortage of teachers, a secondary school
graduate could become an elementary school teacher. After coming to Japan, she had
worked part-time at various companies, changing jobs time to time: First at a company
where they make post-it notes, then Aiwa electronics company, Akiyama steel company,
silk fabric company, and finally at Kanebo Cosmetics. After quitting work unhappily
because she never received a raise in salary, she stays home to take care of Taro and runs
her own business of renting and selling Cambodian DVDs and international telephone
cards to their neighbors. The family has some other side income by assembling pens at
home which their neighbors also help when they visit.
Ryo and Botum’s three daughters, Mealea, Tevy, and Reina, were thirteen, twelve,
and four respectively, when they came to Japan with their mother in 1995. Mealea and
Tevy were both placed in elementary school grade six. Mealea was old enough to be in
junior high school, but started from elementary school to compensate for her lack of
knowledge in Japanese. Reina was placed in a nursery school before starting Yamamoto
elementary school in 1996, the same school Taro attends now. Mealea, now in her
twenties, graduated a four year college in 2007, and worked at an automobile company as
an accountant. Mealea was married to a Cambodian man, Sann, which was according to
her, a「政略結婚」“seiryaku kekkon” [political marriage]. I asked her if it was an 「お
見合い結婚」“omiai kekkon” [arranged marriage]. She responded,「私がいやだって
言っても断れない***それってお見合いじゃないですよね？」“Watashi ga iya da
tte itte mo kotowarenai *** sore tte omiai ja nai desu yo ne? [Even if I did not want to I
105
cannot turn it down. *** That’s not arranged marriage, is it?]”28 At the time of the
research they were pregnant with their first child, due in December 2008. Tevy, also in
her twenties, completed a vocational college, and worked as a beautician. Reina, a
nineteen-year-old, was a senior in a part-time high school aspiring to become a manicure
nailist after graduation. In 2006, all the family members, except Botum, received
Japanese citizenship. Botum’s Japanese was still「下手」“heta” [poor], and she had not
passed the exam to be naturalized yet.
The family had lived at Yamamoto 団地 Danchi29, a public housing complex,
where a large number of Cambodian refugee families live, before buying a house a few
blocks away from the housing complex. The three-story house built on approximately
100 square meter land was occupied by seven residents, until Mealea and Sann moved
out of the house by the end of 2008 to prepare for their baby due in December. The
family living room was on the first floor (see Figure 4-1), and they studied there with the
tutors, ate their meals, and watched TV. Next to the living room was the kitchen where
Botum went in and out to serve tea and snacks for the tutors. From the living room, the
family could access the shower room where they took a bath after coming home from
work. The bedrooms were upstairs, where I had been up once to conduct an interview
with the sisters.
The living room had a large TV which occupied the whole wall of one side of the
room. It was the most noticeable object in the room, and was often times turned on when
28
Omiai is a Japanese custom in which individuals are introduced to each other to consider the possibility
of marriage. There are standard provisions to turn down a proposal with relatively little loss of face on the
part of the party refused.
29
Danchi were built starting in the late 1950s in order to fill in the housing shortage caused by
concentration of population in the urban areas. During the post-war economic growth, salaryman (whitecollar businessman) longed to live in these public housing complexes. Nowadays, they are occupied more
by elderly, single residents, and foreign residents (Kinkōzan, 2008).
106
I arrived at the house. There was another small TV on the other corner of the room,
which was not often used. On the same side of the wall was a shelf full of Cambodian
DVDs and videos for Botum’s business of rentals and selling. The telephone in the corner
made a loud music when someone called. The clock on the wall made an even louder
sound when playing music every hour. I actually was never able to tell which sound came
from which object. The rest of the wall was filled with family photos and paintings of
Cambodia. One blown up photo was a wedding picture of Mealea and Sann, which I was
not able to recognize their faces. Another family picture of Ryo and Botum’s parents
standing in front of Angkor Wat. Now Ryo’s parents were living in the US, and Botum’s
parents still lived in Cambodia.
This lively and rather small living room (for a big group of people) served as a
classroom for our tutoring sessions. This Cambodian home attracted a number of their
neighbors to come and study with the Japanese tutors. However, it was not suited for a
large group of adult learners and a child to sit and study. First of all, there were no table
and chairs for us to sit. When the tutors came, Botum took out a small folded table to be
placed in the middle of the living room. On a crowded day, there were four learners and
four tutors (and myself), and we could not all sit around the small table. On such
occasions, the tutors randomly sat on the floor paired up with their assigned student. For
a couple of weeks, Botum did not take out this table, but instead used a box as a table. At
other times, her neighbor friends used a short stool as a table to write on. One classroom
related object was a small whiteboard usually placed under the clock with Cambodian
writings on it, and it was not used for Japanese tutoring.
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Figure 4-1: Taro’s House
Cambodia (Taro) Family: 1st Floor
Parking
Clock
Phone
Table
Sofa
TV
Stairs to
2nd floor
Toilet
DVD
Bath
Shelf
DVD
TV
Kitchen
Stove
& Water
The Cambodian family had a few books sitting around in the living room, usually
piled up against the wall. They possessed a few Japanese textbooks, Cambodian-Japanese
dictionary, a book on refugees in Japanese, a picture book, and Botum’s notebooks.
These books were not always in the same place, ready to be used for the tutoring sessions,
and I often did not find the same book which I had used the week before. In any case, the
tutors brought teaching materials of their own to be used with the learners. Example
materials are hiragana practice, kanji practice, and particle markers exercises, etc. Two to
four tutors visited this Cambodian home three days a week, Mondays, Thursdays, and
Fridays, for one hour. Botum asked me to come on Wednesdays, since she wanted to
study Japanese every day. That way she will「忘れないね」“wasurenai ne” [not forget].
Later, I was asked to team up with a tutor on Thursday, in place of another student who
was not able to come for a few weeks.
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To get to this Cambodian home for a 6:00 pm tutoring session, the students took a
5:00 pm shuttle from the college to the train station. After taking the train three stops
inbound, it was another 20 minute, 300 yen (approximately $3.00) bus ride which left at
5:40, arriving at their bus stop around 6:00. The family’s house was located a few blocks
from the bus station, after turning into a dark unpaved alley with a few dim street lights at
night. When it was raining, the road got wet and muddy. After approximately an hour of
tutoring, the students left the house to take the 7:25 bus back to the train station, and
another long train ride back to their homes. For those like myself who commuted from
Saitama prefecture, it was close to 10:00 by the time we reached home. The bus only ran
every half an hour, and on a cold December winter night when three of us missed one bus
by a second, I was desperate to get home as early as possible, and offered to pay for a taxi
ride. The students kept the receipt of 2,000 yen (approximately $20.00) just in case, and
later the college program paid me back for the taxi ride.
Even after the other Thursday tutor started participating again, I always arrived
half an hour earlier than the other two tutors, and I was teamed up with Botum, and in the
beginning I tried to use the books she had at home. I believed that will allow her to make
the most out of resources she possessed herself. However, as I mentioned above, Botum
could not always find the same book we had used the week before. Therefore, I started to
bring my own textbook「新日本語の基礎Ｉ」“SHIN NIHONGO NO KISO I” [New
Japanese Basics I], a commonly used textbook for foreign trainees in Japan. On a typical
day, Botum served the tutors a cup of green tea and some snacks or sweets, such as
Cambodian coconut flavored bananas, fried sweet potatoes, spring rolls, etc. And then,
Botum and I chatted for a while about her past week before reviewing what we had
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studied the previous week. Botum usually liked to read the example sentences and
dialogues in the textbook, and practice the exercises together. Occasionally there was a
vocabulary she did not understand, and I explained it in simpler words, and showed it on
her Cambodian dictionary if it was around. On motivated days, Botum wrote down the
vocabulary, and sometimes even the whole sentences in her notebook.
The second tutor, Kobayashi-san30 arrived half an hour after me by the time
Botum’s neighbor friend Samnang arrived with her daughter, Kolab. Ms. Kobayashi
typically brought a handout of kanji practice for Samnang, and they practiced reading and
writing together. Kolab usually just sat in the living room with us, and took care of Taro
while we were studying. Taro called Kolab “Mama,” which confused us tutors a great
deal in the beginning. However, soon we discovered that he calls Botum “Ma” and
differentiates that from “Mama.” This is because Kolab is the one who goes to nursery
school to pick up Taro, and everyone called her “Mama.” Taro was surely very close to
Kolab, as if she was his real mother. He was always present during the tutoring sessions,
and he did study with the tutors when they were available. Taro studied hiragana,
katakana, kanji, math, and read picture books.
Ryo and Botum started to participate in the volunteer home tutoring program in
2005, and this year they accepted more tutors than they had in the previous years. They
hoped to understand Japanese to better communicate with the people and improve their
relationships. Ryo believed that the tutoring was effective, and gave them opportunities to
hear Japanese and get used to the sounds. Botum especially appreciated the fact that she
30
In Japan, it is customarly to address each other by their family name followed by an honorific “–san” and
this does not translate well into English, as “Miss.,” “Mr.,” “Mrs.” or “Ms.,” particulary addressing college
students. Therefore, I chose to address the student tutors by “-san” in this dissertation, just as the way I
called them in real life.
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could study at home, since going to school was difficult with their busy lives. Ryo
additionally hoped that the people could better understand each others’ cultures and
beliefs through participation in this program. He regretted that「よく日本人の方はです
ね、外国人の顔を見ると怖いという気持ちとか結構いるんですね」“yoku Nihonjin
no kata wa desu ne, gaikokujin no kao o miru to kowai to iu kimochi toka kekkō iru n
desu ne.” [often times Japanese people are afraid when they see foreign faces-- there are
many (Japanese like that)], and believes that「もし皆さんもですね、私たちと近くに
なるとわかってくると思いますね、人間は気持ちとしてはそんなに違わないと」
“moshi mina-san mo desu ne, watashitachi to chikaku ni naru to, wakatte kuru to
omoimasu ne, ningen no kimochi to shite wa sonna ni chigawanai to.” [if you (tutors)
become close to us, you will understand that as human beings our feelings are not that
different.] Ryo hoped that the Japanese students would learn from participating in this
program, and visiting his Cambodian home regularly.
4.2.2 Rokuro
Rokuro was a seven-year-old Japanese Peruvian boy who was born in Kanagawa,
Japan in the spring of 2000. Even though he had a Japanese family name taking it after
his Japanese descent father, and a Japanese first name, he was a Peruvian citizen. He
attended nursery school before entering elementary school, and at the time of the research
was a first grade student. He was a member of a local soccer club, and attended practices
and games on weekends. He was the best player in his team, and his mother would tell
me in the way Rokuro told her,「僕行かないね、ほんとまけちゃうよ」“boku ikanai
ne, honto makechau yo.” [if I don’t go, they will lose.] He was an excellent athlete and
enjoyed physical education the most at school. He attended an after school program
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called “Community” at his school, and came home in the evening. At home, he liked to
play with his dog, Pancho, and with his newly bought Wii, a home video game released
by Nintendo, on TV. He also liked to take Pancho to the neighborhood park, and play
soccer with his friends. Rokuro was a kind boy who at times offered to me to take some
food home from his refrigerator, and who gave me a gift of origami crafts before I left
Japan.
Rokuro’s father, Vasco, now in his forties, came to Japan as a trainee in 1989.
Growing up in Lima, Peru, and after finishing secondary school31, he went to an army
school. He joined the navy, and fought in several wars, including the war with Ecuador in
1981 and the war between Argentina and United Kingdom in 1982. After that, he worked
at a European company to develop colors, for cosmetics for instance, where he used his
business administration qualification he acquired at a vocational school. He had a good
job at a good company. However, with rising problems in Peru, such as terrorism and
inflation, his job was taken away. At that point, he decided to come to Japan. Being a
Japanese descendant and having a Japanese family name made it easy for him to acquire
a trainee visa to come to Japan.
Vasco’s grandfather had migrated to Lima, Peru from Kagoshima, southern Japan
in 1908, the year of the first official Japanese mass migration to Brazil in history. After
experiencing significant discrimination, he moved from place to place in the countryside,
and married a Peruvian woman, hoping that having a Peruvian wife would improve his
life in Peru. However, Peru continued to suffer from conflicts and wars. In 1926, their
son, Vasco’s half Japanese, half Peruvian father, was born. Being born during the
31
In Peru, primary education is for six years, and secondary school for five years. After that, postsecondary education, which varies in length, is pursued.
112
reconstruction of the country, he was unable to create a birth certificate and register as a
Japanese citizen. However, he married a Japanese woman from Okinawa, southern Japan.
Therefore, Vasco calls himself a Nisei, second generation Japanese, and takes both
Japanese family names from his parents. However, his grandfather and his mother spoke
a southern dialect, and Vasco did not learn to speak Japanese.
Vasco came to Japan by himself, leaving his Peruvian wife Calista, and their 10
month old daughter, Yoko, behind in Peru. After working as a trainee for one year, he
changed his visa status to a regular working visa. He had several different jobs until he
found his current job. First, he worked at a rubber product company, then an automobile
parts company, and a few others. At the time of the research, he worked as a welder at a
company that made pipes. All of his colleagues were Japanese, and he occasionally had
language problems such as reading a map plan written in Japanese. He loved his current
job, and he was a handy man around the house, too. He had built a large griller which can
cook 26 chickens at once on his small deck, to start a side business of selling Peruvian
chicken. He used a bicycle chain to rotate the grill, and it was quite a masterpiece.
Vasco’s wife, Calista, grew up in the suburbs of Lima, and went to a vocational
school to acquire a beautician certification and worked at a beauty parlor in Lima. She
continued on with her schooling in health-care. However, she got pregnant with their
daughter, Yoko, and dropped out of school. Calista came to Japan with Yoko in 1990 to
be with Vasco. Since living in Japan, she has had a couple of different jobs, just like
Vasco. First, she worked at factories of Andersen bakery and Fujiya confectionery store
both at the same time, working late and long hours. She also had worked at one of the
factories Vasco had worked at. In 2007 when I had met the family for the first time, she
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was working at a dry cleaning business. At the time of the research, she worked at a
confectionary store factory where she inspected the food quality. She worked night shifts,
from 10:00 pm to 7:30 am, to save up for their planned trip back to Peru in February
2009. The family had not gone back to Peru for over 10 years. Once the family achieved
the goal of visiting Peru, she wanted to switch back to day shifts. Calista was not of
Japanese descent, and had self studied Japanese from a book.
Vasco and Calista’s daughter, Yoko, was born in Lima, Peru in 1989, and was
taken to Japan when she was two years old. She quickly learned Japanese at the expense
of Spanish, and the parents took her back to Peru when she was four. Once she was back
in her country, she started speaking Spanish within three to four months. She attended
elementary school for two years, and then returned to Japan when she was seven. When
she returned to Japan, she only spoke Spanish. However, she quickly remembered
Japanese, and caught up in school. When she was in elementary school a decade ago, she
was the only foreign descent student in school. There was no such thing as kokusai
[international] class to receive JSL instruction in the beginning. When she was in third
grade, kokusai class was finally offered. Being a true minority in school, she had received
some serious bullying all the way up to her senior year in junior high school. However,
she never gave in and continued attending school, an achievement which not all bullied
students are able to do. She did well academically in high school, and succeeded in
advancing to a four year college to major in law. She aspired to become a bilingual
lawyer who could help not only Japanese people but also foreign residents who suffer
from discrimination working in Japan. Her parents pushed her to acquire English too,
believing in the linguistic capital it possesses, and talked about sending her to Australia to
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study English. To them, Australia was closer than the US, application easier, and they
had a close Japanese family friend who lived there. However, Yoko hated English
because it was difficult for her, and it was the only subject she did not do very well.
Yoko’s strong motivation for her career path to become a lawyer was determined
by an incident which occurred when she was still in junior high school. Her uncle had
been in an accident working at a factory, injuring his arm while operating a machine.
Even though he had insurance from the company, the company refused to pay his
medical bills. She was mortified, and took action herself. She looked up the laws, called
up lawyer’s offices and asked for advice, visited and talked to the lawyers, and finally
won the case by having the company pay her uncle’s medical bills. This incident pushed
her to study harder, and pursue her advanced degree in law. At the time of the research,
she was a freshman in college. Yoko was certainly a role model and a strict mentor for
Rokuro, and she disciplined him sternly with his studying. She did not wish him to
experience the same kind of humiliation she had suffered by being bullied, and believed
that not knowing Japanese well would make them vulnerable as a “gaijin” [foreigner].
Yoko also mentored a Peruvian neighbor’s daughter, Iliana, a junior in high
school, who went to the same high school she had graduated from. Iliana sometimes
stayed at Yoko’s apartment to be tutored. By April 2008, she was living with the family,
since her mother worked night shifts, and the family did not feel that it was safe for her to
stay home by herself. Her mother was separated from her Japanese-descent father, and
Calista felt sorry for Iliana. She wanted to go to college in Japan, and was studying hard
to prepare for the entrance examinations. Vasco disciplined her strictly like he did with
Yoko, and helped her study for her tests at school. Vasco could not leave these children
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as the way they were, and by the time I visited the family in the fall 2008, the family had
“adopted” another boy who was Vasco’s cousin’s son. Ken was a senior in junior high
school, and was studying to prepare for the high school entrance examinations.
The Peruvian family had a dog named Pancho which had joined the family in the
spring of 2007. He was very much loved by the family, especially Yoko, and was a part
of their daily conversations. He played with Rokuro in the apartment, and was taken out
for walks by him too. When the tutors arrived at their apartment, Pancho was the first one
to answer the door by barking. He soon became to know me well, and welcomed me
when I arrived. In the beginning during the tutoring sessions, he was usually kept in his
“house” which was in the living room. However, he was sometimes let out by Rokuro
who got bored of studying. Once he was out, he wanted to play with us and disrupted our
studying. He had to be pushed back several times, and then he gave up. He was a smart
dog, and understood both Japanese and Spanish, responding to commands in both
languages, according to Yoko. Iliana brought her dog, Diaz, and at the time of the
research Pancho and Diaz were buddies.
Vasco and Calista had bought the apartment “for Yoko and Rokuro so that they
have a place to come home in Japan any time.” Their place was on the fifth floor of an
apartment complex. The place was a decent size by Japanese apartment standards, with a
dining living room, a kitchen, three bedrooms, a shower bath room, a bathroom, and two
decks, one of which was occupied by the big chicken roaster assembled by Vasco (see
Figure 4-2). The entrance was decorated with religious objects such as a cross and a
picture of Jesus Christ. Yoko and Rokuro each had their own bedroom. The living room
served as the classroom for tutoring sessions. Calista and Rokuro were the ones who
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studied with the tutors, and they all sat at the dining table to study. Pancho’s “house” was
next to the dining table, and he was put in there when he misbehaved. There was a TV
next to Pancho’s “house,” and Rokuro played Wii on it. A sofa was on the other side of
the table where Rokuro went over to rest during the tutoring sessions, or where Yoko
took a nap. There was a big freezer in the living room, where they kept the chicken for
their business. The kitchen was next to the living room, and Calista served drinks and
sometimes snacks for the tutors from the kitchen.
Figure 4-2: Rokuro’s Home
Peru (Rokuro) Family’s apartment
Chicken roaster
Bath
Deck
Toilet
Kitchen
Sofa
Yoko’s room
Rokuro’s room
Table
Shelf
TV
Freezer
Dog’s
house
Parents’
room
Deck
The Peruvian family’s apartment was located at the same train station as the tutors
would get off to go to Taro’s house. However, Taro’s house was another bus ride from
the South exit, and Rokuro’s apartment was approximately 20 minutes walk from the
North exit. Therefore, their homes were located in different neighboring cities. It was an
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easy flat walk, first through a narrow alley of small stores, and then a long straight street
which led to Japan national route 246. After turning off 246 into a small alley, it changed
to a quieter residential area where the family’s apartment was. The most difficult part of
the walk was the climb up the stairs to the fifth floor, since the building did not have an
elevator. However, on a rainy typhoon day in October, it was quite a long 20 minute walk,
and I was soaked by the time I got to their apartment. Even on that day, Vasco was on the
deck roasting chickens to deliver the following day.
The family had started participating in the volunteer home tutoring program when
Rokuro was in upper grade nursery school. They were told about this program from a
sister at the church they attend. In the first year, Calista and Rokuro received tutoring
once a week for one and a half hours. Even though Vasco strictly disciplined Yoko to
study both Japanese and Spanish, and Rokuro to study Japanese, Vasco himself did not
study Japanese. According to Calista, “he is strict to his children, but not to himself.”
Calista studied hiragana and katakana, since she could not write at all. This year, they
increased their tutoring to twice a week, three hours total per week. Now she could read
hiragana well, had started studying kanji, and further wanted to be able to write
sentences. Rokuro had mainly worked on reading and writing hiragana in the first year.
This year, he studied katakana, kanji, reading comprehension, and math with the tutors.
Rokuro owns a few Japanese books and textbooks from school. However, the tutors
usually brought materials of their own from the program office at college. They brought
hiragana, katakana, kanji practices for Calista and Rokuro, and reading comprehension
exercises for Rokuro. Calista and Rokuro had their own notebook to practice writing
Japanese. Rokuro practiced writing hiragana many times in this notebook, and Calista
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did the same once she started learning kanji. She had very neat handwriting, and proudly
showed me rows of kanji she had practiced in her notebook. However, she admitted that
when she did not practice writing regularly she easily forgot them. Calista appreciated the
fact that the tutors were so patient and were willing to teach the same thing over and over
again. The family continued to participate in this program, and the tutors came regularly
to this Peruvian home every week.
4.2.3 Ngoc
Ngoc was a Vietnamese girl who was born in Kanagawa, Japan in the fall of 1999,
and remained a citizen of Vietnam. She attended nursery school before entering
elementary school, and at the time of research, was in the second grade. Even though she
disliked getting up early in the morning to go to school, she enjoyed music and math
classes at school. At home, she watched anime on the computer with her younger brother
or her Vietnamese girl friends. On weekends, she went out with her Vietnamese friends
to the game arcade and McDonald’s to snack. She was a rather shy girl who did not want
to have the tutoring sessions all by herself. However, when her friends gathered to study
together, she became lively. In a collection of kokusai class students’ compositions, she
wrote in the column “future dreams,”「セブンイレブンのレジ」 “sebun irebun no
reji” [cashier at 7-Eleven]. There was a 7-Eleven store within a few blocks from where
Ngoc lived.
Ngoc’s mother, Thi, in her thirties now, was one of the boat people from Vietnam
who came to Japan in 1990. It was during the summer break after finishing elementary
school32 when her father had put her and her older brother on a small boat with other
32
In Vietnam, primary education lasts for five years, followed by intermediate education for four years, and
then secondary education for three years. Higher education may be pursued after that.
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children “to go visit Grandma in the countryside.” They were on the boat for about 10
days, and when hit by a big typhoon, she「８０パーセントぐらい死ぬと思ったんで
す」“hachijuppāsento gurai shinu to omotta n desu.” [thought (she had an) 80% (chance
of) dying.] Luckily, a British ship rescued this boat full of children, and they lived on the
ship for about two weeks. The ship stopped at Hong Kong where there is a refugee center.
However, they chose to go to the next destination, Japan, and remained on the ship for
another three days. They arrived in Nagasaki, southern Japan, and were placed in the
Refugee Reception Center in Omura city. However, her brother did not pass the interview
test, and was sent back to Vietnam. Thi was 12 years old at that time. When Thi was 14
years old, she moved to the International Refugee Assistance Center in Shinagawa,
Tokyo, where she studied some Japanese. She was only 15 years old when she left the
center to work in Murayama city, Shizuoka. After working in the countryside for a year,
she got lonely and moved to live with a friend. This was when she met her current
Vietnamese husband, and got married. She was 18 years old. Therefore, she did not
receive any education in Japan. She was 21 years old, and her husband 25 when their first
child, Ngoc was born. After they got married, they visited Vietnam to introduce each
others’ parents. In 2000, Thi turned in her application to invite her parents over to Japan.
It took three years for the application to be approved, and now her parents are living in
the same public housing complex, two stories down from their apartment. At the time of
the research, Thi worked at Fujiya confectionery factory where she operated the
machines and inspected the food quality.
Ngoc’s father, Chinh, also in his thirties, was a hard working man who worked as
a welder. He worked long hours every day, and worked on Saturdays as well. He was an
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earnest and kind father who took each of our encounters and conversations very seriously.
On my first visit to meet this Vietnamese family, I was driven to this home by the
program staff member who left the place before me. Therefore, I did not know my way
back to the closest train station. Chinh explained to me how to walk back in Japanese,
and drew me a map as well. On my second visit, I invited the family and Ngoc’s friend to
a festival held at the college which was coming up the following weekend. Since Thi was
not home, he answered with utmost sincerity that he cannot come on Saturday because he
works, and would ask the mother if they could come on Sunday. Unfortunately, these
were the only few encounters I had with Chinh.
Ngoc’s younger brother, Thanh, was also born in Kanagawa, Japan, and at the
time of the research, was a first grader, one year younger than his sister, attending the
same elementary school after going to nursery school. He liked math period at school,
especially third and fourth period, because he「すぐに帰れる」 “sugu ni kaereru.” [can
go home soon after]. At home, he liked to play with Pokemon (animation, abbreviated
from “Pocket Monsters”) game on his handheld video game, and watch Doraemon
(animation made from manga) on his computer. When he grew up, he wanted to become
a sumo wrestler, and to his advantage, he was rather chubby, like a sumo wrestler. Ngoc
and Thanh did not get along very well, and they were fighting all the time. She called him
「デブ」“debu” [fatty (slang)] when she was mad at him. Ngoc was especially upset
when Thanh did not turn off the computer watching anime when they were studying.
Cam was Thi’s cousin who was living with the family, and I was utterly surprised
when Ngoc told me that she was only 17 years old. First of all, she did not look or behave
like a teenager, secondly, she did not seem to be going to school, and mostly Ngoc called
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her「おばさん」“oba-san” [aunt] which made me think that she was closer to Thi’s age,
in her thirties. The family had visited Vietnam recently, and had brought Cam back with
them. Therefore, she spoke very little Japanese, and Thi asked me to tutor her. However,
I was not in the position to offer her help, so I suggested Thi to contact the program staff.
Unfortunately, the tutoring never started while I was there. Cam came home at 6:30 pm
every day,33 and the first thing she did was to clean the apartment, sweeping and
scrubbing the floors. She also did laundry, and came in and out of the room where we
were studying to get to the deck where she hung clothes to dry. The family also took on
an extra job to assemble pens, like the Cambodian family, and Cam helped to work on
this side job.
Thi’s parents and her brother and sister were living two stories down from their
apartment. Her mother cooked for the family, and the food was always prepared on the
table ready to be eaten. Ngoc and Thanh sometimes went downstairs to eat dinner at their
grandparents’ apartment. There were abundant of food to eat, a rice cooker full of rice for
seconds, soup, fish chips, spring rolls, grilled fish, stir fried shrimp, marinated meat,
sautéed green beans, sticky rice, and spicy sauce to put on any dish. It seemed that
Grandma must be cooking all day to feed two families. In the other room, Ngoc’s
grandfather sat in front of the computer all day to watch the world news in Vietnamese.
Ngoc’s grandparents did not speak much Japanese, and Thi hoped her children would
keep up with their Vietnamese so that they could communicate with their grandparents.
The Vietnamese family lived in Higa public housing complex where many
foreign residents occupied the apartments. There was a sign on the side of the housing
33
Unfortunately, I did not have a chance to ask whether she had a job or what she did.
122
complex listing six rules for living in the complex in six different languages; Japanese,
Chinese, Lao, Vietnamese, Spanish, and Cambodian (see Figure 4-3). The sign said 「住
まいのルールを守りましょう」 “Sumai no rūru o mamorimashō” [Let’s follow the
rules of living]. The rules were regarding pets, noise, parking, use of stairs and decks,
garbage, and neighborhood council activities. The first rule said “Let’s not keep pets such
as dogs and cats.” The second one was, “Let’s be careful about noise pollution.” The
third, “Let’s not park illegally and inconvenience other people.” Fourth, “Let’s not put
objects on the stairs and decks.” Fifth, “Let’s recycle and take out garbage on the
assigned days.” And finally, “Let’s participate in neighborhood council activities.” These
were rules which sometimes came up as problematic when having foreign neighbors,
from the Japanese people’s perspectives, simply because the foreign residents did not
know or understand the rules.
Figure 4-3: Rules of Living
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The family lived on the fifth floor of the building in a modest sized apartment
room typical of public housing with two small rooms with a dining kitchen, a shower
bath room, and a bathroom (see Figure 4-4). There was a low small table in the kitchen
which was usually covered with food. In the bigger room were two desks, one of which
had a TV on it. There was only one stool to sit at the desk, or in front of the TV. This
room had an oshiire, a Japanese style closet, where their futon and clothes were kept. The
smaller room contained a computer and a chair, a TV, and a sofa. The children usually
watched animation programs on the computer, and the TV was never used. When the
children watched anime, they sat or stood right in front of the computer and did not sit on
the sofa. This room led to a small deck where Cam hung laundry to be dried.
Figure 4-4: Ngoc’s Home
Vietnam (Ngoc) Family’s apartment
Desk
Closet
Chair
Desk
TV
Sofa
Shelf
Bath
Clock
Shelf
Kitchen
Table
Table
Toilet
Chair
Stove & water
Deck
Phone Computer
TV
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In the beginning, the smaller room was used for the tutoring sessions. The small
table was brought into the room from the kitchen, and was used as a desk for studying.
The table usually had food on it, so transferring the food to the kitchen counter and
wiping the table with a wet cloth to clean it became my daily routine once I arrived at this
apartment. The children sat on the floor around the table for studying. However, this tiny
table was certainly not big enough for all children to sit and write comfortably on it, and
they fought for spaces with their elbows. I usually sat besides or behind them. As the
number of children attending my tutoring sessions increased, we moved to the bigger
room to study. Even then, there was only the one small table to study on, so some
children ended up studying on the floor.
Higa public housing complex was located conveniently for the college students to
commute. The college was in the same city, Higa, and it was approximately 20 minutes
walk from their campus. Therefore, the program served a large number of families in the
complex. It was about the same distance to the nearest train station from their apartment.
The first time I walked back to the station, I walked on the main road. However, the
program staff member told me a short cut which was closer, but went through some dark
narrow alleys, especially at night. I chose to take the short cut, and the next time I walked
from the station to the apartment, I walked by the riverside through the narrow alley.
Once passed the narrow alley, there was a road with a traffic light which had to be
crossed. When the button was pushed, the light went green, and the pedestrians could
cross the road. On this road was the 7-Eleven on the corner, where I turned to walk into
the housing complex. After passing the sign of rules in multiple languages was the
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family’s building. There was no elevator in the building and I had to walk up the stairs to
the fifth floor.
The family had started participating in the Volunteer Home Tutoring program a
decade ago. It was Thi who actively sought information about this program, and started
studying with the tutors. She was the first Vietnamese student to start this program in the
Higa public housing complex, and since then many families in the complex has been
introduced through her. Back then, Thi still did not have any children and aspired to go to
school. She studied Japanese and kanji with a tutor once a week for one hour. Although
her dream to attend school never came true, she appreciated the tutors who taught her
diligently. Now, her children, Ngoc and Thanh receive tutoring twice a week for a total of
three hours (including my tutoring). Before meeting the family, I was warned by the
program staff that Ngoc often canceled the tutoring without giving advance notice.
My first visit to this Vietnamese home on October 19, 2007 lasted for only 10
minutes. The program staff had brought me and introduced me to the family and soon
after left the apartment. I asked Ngoc how much time she had, and she said “five
minutes.” On the contrary to my anticipation, the following tutoring session on October
24th, lasted for an hour and 45 minutes. Ngoc’s neighbor friend, Thuy, in second grade,
joined the tutoring and three of them, including Thanh, studied together. Thuy lived in
the same building, two stairs down the building. Ngoc and Thuy went to the same
elementary school, but were in different classes. Thuy had a little brother, Tho, a
preschooler, who visited Thanh sometimes. He was curious what we were doing, and
occasionally stuck his head in the room while we were studying.
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On November 21, Nhu, a first grader, joined the group. She also went to the same
school as Ngoc and Thuy. However, since she was still in grade one, she could not study
the same material as Ngoc and Thuy. Therefore, I usually gave her different assignments
to complete. By that time, Thanh had gradually stopped studying together, and the main
participants settled down to three girls. The girls studied mainly kanji and math with the
tutors. In the beginning, Cam occasionally sat in the room together when we were playing
games. In April 2008, they all proceeded to the next grade in school, and Linh, a fourth
grader, joined the last few tutoring sessions. Linh also went to the same school as the
other girls, and had an older sister who was entering junior high school this spring.
Apparently, all of these girls had Volunteer Home tutors in the past. However, their
tutoring did not last as long as Ngoc for various reasons. Ngoc matured immensely over
the past seven months of my observation, and she never canceled our tutoring sessions,
and the family continued to participate in the program.
4.3 Summary
The Volunteer Home Tutoring program provided opportunities for the college
students to help foreign descent families, and to learn about a different culture by visiting
their homes weekly. It provided opportunities for the foreign descent families to study
Japanese, and for children to receive help studying various academic subjects at school.
The young, energetic, college female students were warmly welcomed at their homes.
The program was well intentioned, well organized, and well funded (except the part time
coordinators), and continued to evolve, which will be briefly introduced in Chapter Nine.
The families who participated in this program were highly motivated citizens who made
their best efforts to make their lives in Japan better. The three families of this study were
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no exception, and the parents of the focal children took their education seriously.
However, having different cultural background and family history, each child’s
development was truly unique. Even though Taro’s father came to Japan as a refugee, he
was highly educated, both parents working as a teacher back in Cambodia, and the family
was relatively well-off financially, owning a three story house in Kanagawa, Japan. Taro
received the benefit of these resources, and was a highly motivated and talented
individual himself. Rokuro’s father came to Japan taking advantage of his Japanese
ancestry. His parents were hardworking people, who had purchased a decent apartment
home for Rokuro and his older sister, Yoko to live in. The caring father and the strict
sister would not allow Rokuro to fail in any aspects of his life. Ngoc’s mother, in sharp
contrast to Taro’s highly educated father who was also an Indochina refugee, gave up
attending school after elementary school. The family lived in a modest public housing
complex, and both parents worked long hours to make ends meet. Even though Ngoc and
her younger brother, Thanh did not have the daily attention of their parents, Ngoc had a
Vietnamese girls’ support group of her own. The common feature of these three children
was that even though they were all born in Japan, they needed and benefited from
receiving tutoring in academic subjects such as kokugo [Japanese language, its literal
translation “national language”] and math taught at school.
Next I will turn to the findings chapters where I discuss multicultural children’s
Japanese as an academic subject, their home languages, and their multiple identities. The
readers are urged to keep the program and the families’ background information written
in this chapter in mind when they read the following chapters. First of all, my
participation as a home tutor to these children must be embedded in the macro context of
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the Volunteer Home Tutoring program. Secondly, my analysis of data must be read and
interpreted with each family’s socio-historical background in mind in order to understand
where they came from, where they stand, and where they are going. Finally, my detailed
descriptions of their homes and visual layouts, where the tutoring sessions took place,
becomes relevant when understanding the participants’ physical and spatial movements.
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CHAPTER FIVE
MULTICULTURAL CHILDREN’S JAPANESE LANGUAGE
This study investigates multicultural children’s language use and identity
negotiation at home, in the neighborhood and community, and in their Japanese public
elementary school life. In Chapters Five, Six, Seven, and Eight, I analyze the findings to
my research questions. In this chapter, I introduce the children’s Japanese language and
literacy during the tutoring sessions at home. In each section, I explain a specific tutoring
activity to describe the children’s Japanese language skills, the ways children learn
Japanese literacy, and their attitudes toward learning. These activities are kanji studying,
book reading, and game playing. Subsequently, I characterize the significance to the
multicultural children of these activities and interactions which emerge from them, by the
analysis of language socialization practices (Bayley & Schecter, 2003).
Being raised in Japan and going to Japanese schools, multicultural children in this
study speak Japanese more fluently than their home languages. They have no problems
communicating in Japanese with the volunteer home tutors during tutoring sessions at
home. Rarely speaking their home languages in front of the volunteer tutors, they seemed
to speak and behave just like any other Japanese children. When I observed the children
outside of home, they were using Japanese only. Even at community-related gatherings,
such as celebration of New Years, children spoke Japanese to friends of their age, who
were all growing up as fluent Japanese speakers and less so of their home language. It
was easier, and made more sense to talk to each other in their dominant language
Japanese. Participation in such community-related activities did not seem to encourage
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them to use their home languages, even though it certainly helped them to maintain their
cultural identities.
Therefore, looking closely at their language use and learning, unique features and
multiple identities can be observed within these multicultural children. During the
tutoring sessions, three studying activities emerged as the most frequent and significant
for various reasons. Kanji studying, book reading, and game playing were particularly
significant for the children, since they had fewer or no opportunities for every day
literacy practices which could be observed regularly in mainstream Japanese homes.
Perhaps the families did not have home literacy practices in their home languages either,
since the children were not literate in their home languages. Besides, there were no
studying materials, books, or games in their home languages found in their homes. The
children lacked home literacy practices in their home language as well as Japanese. In
some cases, a common Japanese card game, karuta, was introduced for the first time into
the multicultural children’s homes by the Japanese tutors. The descriptions of these three
activities below will include the children’s Japanese literacy skills, the way they study the
language, and their attitudes toward studying Japanese.
5.1 Kanji studying during tutoring sessions at home
As introduced in Chapter Four, Japanese writing has three main systems including
kanji, Chinese characters. Kanji learning is a major literacy practice and critical skill
Japanese students must acquire starting in elementary school, and continuing throughout
their lives. Even Japanese children struggle through acquiring such complex literacy, and
each and every child’s developmental process is different. However, kanji studying
presented unique challenges to multicultural children, since they were not provided with
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daily literacy practices in Japanese, such as reading Japanese books and comics, or
simply seeing characters on advertisements and newspapers at home. They also did not
have the luxury of their parents helping them with kanji learning, since in most cases, the
parents were not fully literate in Japanese. Recognizing kanji learning as a ‘weakness,’
the tutors and children naturally concentrated on kanji learning activities during the
tutoring sessions. In the following sections, these activities will be introduced to examine
how children were socialized into this Japanese literacy practice where they were able to
co-construct with the tutors (and study-mates) their own effective way of learning and
dealing with kanji.
5.1.1 Taro「僕も漢字、勉強したい！」“Boku mo kanji, benkyō shitai!”
[I want to study kanji too!]
Being in nursery school, Taro did not have to start learning kanji quite yet until he
started elementary school in the spring. It was on December 13, 2007 when finally two
student volunteer tutors came to this Cambodian home. Until then, only one tutor (and I)
was able to come to this crowded house with two to five learners who wanted to study
Japanese on any given day. This day was no exception. By the time the other tutors
arrived, there were Botum (Taro’s mother), Samnang (neighbor friend), Kolab
(Samnang’s daughter), a baby boy (at this point I could not identify who this boy
belonged to), and Taro. When Taro saw two tutors at the door, he shouted with
excitement 「二人、来た！」“Futari kita!” [Two (tutors) came]! Therefore, there were
three tutors to four students, and a baby to take care of. Kolab wanted to study kanji
today, and the tutors took out a kanji exercise sheet for her. When Taro saw that, he
enthusiastically said「僕も漢字、勉強したい！」“Boku mo kanji benkyō shitai!” [I
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want to study kanji too!] One of the tutors, Ms. Kobayashi had brought a hiragana
exercise for Taro, and he joyfully jumped up and down with his hands gripped tightly and
exclaimed 「面白そう！」“Omoshiro sō!” [(This) looks interesting!] Before he started
learning kanji, Taro still needed practice in learning hiragana. He asked for assistance;
「『と』って、どう書くんだっけ？」“‘To’tte dō kakun dakke?” [How do you write
‘to’?] Ms. Kobayashi encouraged him to find the appropriate letter himself by showing
the hiragana chart, and he successfully found it on the chart.
This fieldnote excerpt illustrates how, with the Japanese tutor’s help, Taro eagerly
practiced hiragana, even showing interests in learning kanji which his neighbor adults
and his mother were studying regularly at his home in front of him. These tutoring
sessions between the adult learners and the tutors aroused Taro’s curiosity in studying
Japanese reading and writing, and more importantly, exposed him to learning hiragana at
home, just like other Japanese children would do prior to entering elementary school. In
addition, Taro watched the adult learners diligently engaging in literacy practices of
reading and writing kanji, and socialized himself in such practices. He also learned the
challenge as well as the importance his neighbors and his mother put on being literate in
Japanese to be able to survive in this society. In this encouraging studying environment,
Taro quickly learned hiragana and katakana.
Three months later, in March 2008, I felt Taro was ready to be introduced to kanji,
and he was going to start elementary school in less than a month. On March 20, Spring
Equinox Day, a national holiday when graves are visited during the week, I brought a
kanji practice sheet. First, Taro and I read a translated short story from “Days with Frog
and Toad” by Arnold Lobel as we usual do, and then I asked him about kanji. I asked him
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if he knew what words can be written in kanji. Taro answered「み？」“Mi?” with a
rising intonation as if he was not so sure about this. I thought he meant 「耳」“ear
(pronounced ‘mimi’)” and agreed with him “Yes! There is a kanji for ‘ear’.” To my
surprise, Taro tried to clarify what he had said;「『み』って言ったんだよ」“‘Mi’ tte
ittan da yo.” [I said ‘mi’.] I was not sure what he was referring to. Kolab who was sitting
in the living room with us as usual helped me interpret his intention. She understood his
word of choice as; 「『みる』の『み』？」“‘Miru no ‘mi’?” [‘Mi’ as in ‘to see’?] and
wrote the kanji 「見」“‘Mi’” [to see] on the carpet with her finger. Now I drew their
attention back to the book, and encouraged them to find words that can be written in kanji.
Taro chose a part of the word「がまがえる」“gamaga” [toad];「がまが？」
“Gamaga?”, again with a rising intonation exhibiting uncertainty. I asked him back if he
thought there was such kanji as “gamaga.” This time he said「ううん」“Uun.” [No.]
Kolab was now actively participating in this discussion; 「『あしたするよ』も漢字」
“‘Ashita suru yo’ mo kanji.” [‘Tomorrow’ (title of the story) in kanji too.] Taro wanted to
understand what can be written in kanji;「『あ』って漢字？」“‘A’ tte kanji?” [Is ‘a’ in
kanji?] However, he seemed to understand kanji as all being written with the combination
of hiragana. I told him that 「明日」“ashita” [tomorrow] as well as 「目」“me” [eye]
can be written in kanji, drawing their attention on the words in the text. This exemplifies
Taro’s unfamiliarity of kanji as something he is not socialized to daily, and he jointly
constructs his understanding of its use with the guidance of the tutor and Kolab.
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Figure 5-1: Taro’s Kanji Practice Sheet
Now Taro was ready to actually practice writing kanji in Figure 5-1.34 He knew
one of the kanji on the practice sheet;「あ、これ知ってる！『くち』でしょ？」“ A,
kore shitteru! ‘Kuchi’ desho?” [Oh, I know this! ‘Mouth,’ right?] He was excited to know
the first one, and practiced its stroke order eagerly;「１，２，３，４」“Ichi, ni, san,
shi.” It took him a while to get the idea that the kanji「口」“kuchi” [mouth] only had
three strokes. I encouraged him to try the stroke order for the next kanji「目」“me”
[eye]; 「１，２，３，４，５」 “Ichi, ni, san, shi, go.” It was correct.「やった！」
34
Japanese is written from right to left in vertical columns. Therefore, the first kanji is the one in the upper
right corner.
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“Yatta!” [Hurray!] He was excited to get it right, and continued on to the next one. He
completed the first five on the front page, and I asked him if he wanted to proceed to the
back;「折り紙、やる」“Origami yaru.” [(I want to) make origami.] You cannot expect
a six-year-old’s attention span to last longer than that after all.
This example shows that this was the kanji “honeymoon” phase for Taro, and he
enjoyed learning them, and did well. As a matter of fact, his curiosity about learning kanji
came from observing his mother and neighbors diligently practicing them with the other
tutors. He was excited that now he also had the opportunity to learn kanji just like the
other adults, and he benefited from the company of his favorite neighbor, Kolab. As a
JSL learner, Kolab contributed to Taro’s understanding of the use of kanji introduced by
the tutor. Even though Kolab did not speak Japanese as native-like as Taro, she had more
experience learning kanji in school. As such, Taro started to participate and be socialized
in kanji learning literacy practices, which he used to just observe the adult learners
engaging in. In this manner, Taro was socialized in “interactional norms in order to
understand the structure and meaning of the event for participants” (Schieffelin & Ochs,
1986a, p. 181). From a macro point of view, such a rigid literacy practice as writing kanji
in correct stroke orders and in small boxes reflected the structuring principle of social life.
With the help of other participants, learning and writing kanji started as a luxurious
novelty for Taro, and something he could ask for help at home if he needed to. This was
not the case with Rokuro who was in the midst of first grade elementary school.
5.1.2 Rokuro「国語はだいっ嫌い。漢字ができないから」“Kokugo wa daikkirai.
Kanji ga dekinai kara.” [I really hate kokugo. Because I can’t do kanji.]
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October 2, 2007 was my first visit to the Peruvian family’s apartment, and I
accompanied the two volunteer tutors. Rokuro’s tutor, Kato-san had a reading exercise
handout for him to practice comprehension. The first thing he did was to scan through the
text to make sure there were no kanji he could not read, and he refused to read it if there
were any difficult ones. He identified one kanji he could not read;「出る」“deru” [to
leave]. Kato-san assured him that she would help him with that kanji. Rokuro started
reading aloud, and when he got to the kanji Kato-san taught him how to read it. As I
started tutoring him myself, I realized that Kanji was not his only weakness in kokugo. In
fact, he still had difficulty reading some hiragana combinations, and had not mastered
katakana yet. When I asked Calista, Rokuro’s mother, what she wanted me to assist him
with, she said「先生がたくさん読んでって」“Sensei ga takusan yonde tte.” [The
teacher told (him) to read a lot.] He needed help in reading in general, not only kanji but
also including hiragana and katakana. The tutors engaged and socialized Rokuro into a
much needed literacy practice for him. However, Rokuro did not accept his positioning as
a learner of hiragana, the basic script, in the same manner he admitted his kanji weakness,
as will be discussed below.
On the same day Calista asked me to assist Rokuro with reading, I had brought
the book ‘Frog and Toad are Friends’ by Arnold Lobel. The first page and sentence read
「かえるくんは、おおいそぎではしって、がまがえるくんのいえをたずねまし
た。」“Kaeru-kun wa, ooisogi de hashitte, gamagaeru-kun no ie o tazunemashita.”
[Frog ran up the path to Toad’s house.35] Rokuro started reading aloud, but when Rokuro
35
English from original text.
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got to the yō-on36, in the following sentence, he slowed down and could not read fluently.
「ゆきなんかとけち・や・つ・て．．．」 “Yuki nanka tokechi…ya…tsu…te…”
[The snow is melting…] Calista listening to his reading commented,「それもよくでき
ないって、先生が．．．」“Sore mo yoku dekinai tte, sensei ga…” [The teacher said
he also can’t (read yo-on) very well…] Since then, I had been carrying the yō-on practice
handouts for a few weeks, and I finally had the opportunity to present them to Rokuro on
November 26. I had him practice reading the yō-on, and then tracing and writing the
letters as he read. He missed a few diacritics, two dots and a small circle in his writing
and when I read aloud what he wrote, he realized his careless mistake right away and
added them. He also miswrote some「ゃ」“ya” as「ぅ」“u” commenting;「だって、
似てるんだもん」“Datte, niteru n da mon.” [Because they look alike.] I continued this
exercise with Rokuro into December, and on the 20th, he questioned me;「先生、どう
してこういうの持ってくるの？僕、カタカナと漢字が書けないのがある」“Sensei,
dōshite kō iu no motte kuru no? Boku, katakana to kanji ga kakenai no ga aru.” [Teacher,
why do you bring such things (hiragana practice sheets)? I have some katakana and kanji
I can’t write.] He believed that he had already mastered hiragana, but he was very much
aware that he still had difficulties with katakana and kanji. Here, Rokuro finally decided
to negotiate his positioning as a katakana and kanji learner, rather than a novice learner
of hiragana. This explains his careless mistakes in “easy” hiragana (see Figure 5-2),
which he probably did not take very seriously, thinking that it was not his appropriate
level of challenge.
36
Yō-on, glide or palatalized consonant (Tsujimura, 2007), is a contracted sound which is formed with a [j]
sound. In the above example, the yō-on is included in the sequence “cha.”
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Figure 5-2: Rokuro’s Hiragana Practice Sheet
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On January 14, Rokuro had katakana homework to convert hiragana bolded in a
text into katakana. He wrote all the ones he knew and asked me;「分からないの書い
て」“Wakaranai no kaite.” [Write the ones I don’t know.] I made a chart of katakana he
could not write (see Figure 5-3), and he chose the appropriate ones from the list to copy.
It was difficult for him to distinguish some letters which looked similar to other letters.
For instance, he wrote kanji「手」“hand” instead of katakana「チ」 “chi”. He also had
difficulties distinguishing such letters as 「ク」“ku” from「ワ」“wa,”「シ」“shi” from
「ツ」“tsu,” and「ソ」“so” from「ン」“n.” He still had some work to do to learn all
katakana. I continued practicing katakana reading and writing with him for another two
months, along with studying kanji. Here, Rokuro fully engaged in his positioning as a
katakana learner, and explicitly indicated the ones he had not mastered yet to the tutor.
As a result, he was able to copy the corresponding katakana written by the tutor
efficiently to complete his homework and enhance his learning. Once Rokuro mastered
katakana, his ultimate challenge in kanji would be awaiting him.
Figure 5-3: Katakana Written for Rokuro
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It was a few weeks before spring break, on March 10, when I tested Rokuro on all
80 kanji he had learned in grade one. I said the hiragana readings of each kanji, and he
wrote each of them down on a sheet of boxes (below). He got 60 percent of them written
down. He was impressed and exclaimed;「こんなにできちゃった」“Konna ni
dekichatta.” [I was able (to write) this much.] Starting from this day, it was our mutual
goal for Rokuro to master all grade one kanji by the time of my return to the US. He
started grade two in April. On April 19, my last visitation to this Peruvian family’s home,
I tested him on the last nine kanji he still had not memorized from grade one. After
several tries and practices, he was finally ready to challenge the last test as in the
following excerpt.
六郎：よし！オッケイ！
Rokuro: Yoshi! Okkei!
[Rokuro: Yes! OK!]
先生：オッケイ？じゃ、最初に「やすむ」書いてください、送り仮名もね。
Sensei: Okkei? Ja, saisho ni ”yasumu” kaite kudasai, okurigana mo ne.
[Tutor: OK? Then, first please write “to rest,” okurigana (hiragana which comes
after the kanji) too, okay.]
六郎：やすむ（（書く））。
Rokuro: Yasumu ((kaku)).
[Rokuro: To rest. ((writes)).]
先生：はい、もうひとつが「むら」。
Sensei: Hai, mō hitotsu ga “mura.”
[Tutor: Yes, one more is “village.”
六郎：（（書く））．．．できた（（ささやき））．．．
Rokuro: ((Kaku))…Dekita ((sasayaki))…
[Rokuro: ((Writes)) …I did it ((whispering))…
先生：できました！はーい。
Sensei: Dekimashita! Haai.
[Tutor: You did it! Yeees.]
六郎：ママ、できた、1 年生、漢字！
Rokuro: Mama, dekita, ichinensei, kanji!
[Rokuro: Mom, I did it, grade one kanji!]
先生：1 年生の漢字、全部覚えました。
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Sensei: Ichi-nensei no kanji, zenbu oboemashita.
[Tutor: First grade kanji, (you) memorized them all.]
六郎・先生：イエーイ！（（笑））
Rokuro & Sensei: Ieei! ((laugh))
[Rokuro & Tutor: Yay! ((laugh))]
六郎：これ、なんか黒板みたいだね。
Rokuro: Kore, nanka kokuban mitai da ne.
[Rokuro: This, like, looks like a blackboard, doesn’t it?]
When he finally wrote the last two kanji correctly (see Figure 5-4), he whispered as if he
could not believe it; “I did it…,” and shouted to Calista in the kitchen; “Mom, I did it,
grade one kanji!’ I had been putting Pokemon (Rokuro’s favorite Japanese anime
characters) stickers on the kanji he had learned, and now the list was filled with them.
This was a great accomplishment which he could clearly see for himself, and a literacy
practice which he associated with school practice during kokugo class where the teacher
asked the students to write kanji on the “blackboard” to test their knowledge. However,
this simple test did not guarantee his long term learning, and also understanding them in
different contexts and academics, and constantly learning new kanji remained as his
challenge. In the interview37 when asked about kokugo, Rokuro responded without
hesitation「国語はだいっ嫌い。漢字ができないから」“Kokugo wa daikkirai. Kanji
ga dekinai kara.” [I really hate kokugo. Because I can’t do kanji.]
Figure 5-4: Kanji Written by Rokuro
37
Dated March 29, 2008.
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As the previous response indicates, the academic subject kokugo meant learning
kanji for Rokuro. However, in the beginning, he still had not mastered hiragana and
katakana which are critical to know in first grade kokugo class. In addition, his kanjiphobia prevented him from fully engaging in literacy activities. With the help of the
tutors, he gradually started to face the challenge of learning all kanji necessary for his
academic success in grade one. In the meantime, he refused to be positioned as a novice
hiragana learner, and eventually mastered them. He regularly engaged in kanji learning
literacy practices during the tutoring sessions. Kanji writing he practiced at home was in
parallel with the school practices he experienced in kokugo class. Through these “literacy
events” (Heath, 1982) he recognized his weaknesses in kanji skills and learned to deal
with them. Similarly, kokugo was not Ngoc’s forte.
5.1.2 Ngoc「国語、苦手なんだ」“Kokugo, nigate nan da. [I am bad at kokugo.]”
On the first tutoring session with the Vietnamese children in October, I asked
them what they wanted to study. Second graders Ngoc and Thuy requested math and
kanji. Math and kokugo were the two main academic subjects they studied in grade two,
and kokugo meant kanji for them. From the second meeting, I brought a grade two kanji
drill book-- not an ordinary drill book, but a book designed with a character called
“Shizuku -chan,” which I had found out the week before that they liked. They exclaimed
with excitement;「わあ、しずくちゃんだ！書きたい！」“Waa, Shizuku-chan da!
Kakitai!” [Wow, Shizuku-chan! I want to write (in it)!] The book consisted of eight
sections, each section starting with an introduction manga. They both wanted to read
Shizuku-chan’s lines, and they decided who could read them by playing rock, paper, and
scissors. Each section contained two to six chapters, and each chapter introduced four to
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six kanji, followed by reading and writing drills. For each chapter, they copied all kanji
with readings, and then copied answers to the exercises in their notebooks (see Figure 55). Since this tutoring session, we worked on a few pages every session so that the book
will be completed by the end of my stay in Japan. However, Ngoc and Thuy’s enthusiasm
engagement with this literacy practice did not last very long.
Figure 5-5: A page from Ngoc’s Notebook
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Shizuku-chan was not very successful in maintaining Ngoc and Thuy’s interest in
continuing kanji practice. From the next tutoring session, this exercise became「めんど
くさい」“mendo kusai” [a hassle] for them. They repeatedly said “it’s a hassle”
whenever I gave instructions to copy, read, or write kanji from the book. The one
incentive for them was the Shizuku-chan sticker they received after completing each
chapter. However, Ngoc’s attitude started to change by March. Now her ‘hassle’ became
‘a lack of confidence’. She stopped saying “it’s a hassle,” but instead occasionally
expressed her lack of confidence by saying;「国語、苦手なんだ」“Kokugo, nigate nan
da.” [I’m bad at kokugo.] She expressed her anxiety during kanji reading and writing
exercises, when she did not want to read difficult kanji or when she could not write a
specific kanji. In a way, ‘a hassle’ uttered by these girls in the beginnings were their way
of positioning themselves as a ‘capable but just lazy’ kanji learners. Gradually, Ngoc
opened up to the tutor to display her honest feelings toward kokugo, or kanji as her weak
subject.
In grade two, the challenge of learning kanji was doubled by the number of kanji
the children had to master, and the multiple readings of each kanji they had to learn; 訓読
み kun yomi [(Japanese) readings] and 音読み on yomi [(Chinese) readings]. For example,
they knew how to read「交番」“kōban” [police station] which is in on reading, but did
not know how to read「交わる」‘majiwaru” [to cross] which is in kun reading. In
addition, not knowing the meaning of some phrases tripled their challenges. For instance,
they did not understand what「ごとう」“go-tō” [five heads (a classifier used to count
big animals)] in the sentence「馬が（ごとう）いる」“Uma ga (go-tō) iru.” [There are
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five (heads of) horses.] meant, and could not guess its kanji. However, after they were
told what it meant, they knew which kanji to use. Therefore, understanding these phrases
and kanji in context was a critical skill these second graders had to acquire.
For Ngoc and Thuy, kanji was the main component of kokugo, just as Rokuro
considered kokugo as learning kanji. During the tutoring sessions, the Vietnamese girls
eventually admitted the fact that they needed help to practice and learn kanji, at the same
time, expressing their reluctance to deal with something they are not good at. In the
beginning, they fed on each other’s comments by expressing the same resistance toward
practicing kanji as a ‘hassle,’ positioning themselves as ‘capable but simply lazy’ learners.
They co-constructed the challenge of learning kanji in context by expressing the same
confusion of interpreting a specific word, “five heads of horses” in the above example. In
this manner, the Vietnamese girls were socialized through kanji studying practice with
their study-mates and the tutor at home, where Ngoc started to feel comfortable about
showing her lack of confidence in kokugo and kanji. This was how Ngoc dealt with
practicing and learning kanji: she complained but never gave up.
Kanji reading and writing is a critical literacy skill for Japanese school children to
acquire in the early years of their elementary school, and the multicultural children and
the tutors took this matter very seriously. Preschooler Taro was fascinated by the idea of
learning kanji, and engaged in such literacy practices with enthusiasm. First grader
Rokuro struggled to keep up with learning new kanji regularly in his least favorite subject
kokugo, trying to master hiragana and katakana at the same time. Ngoc in her second
grade was already applying her basic kanji literacy skills to learn multiple readings of one
kanji, showing lack of confidence in interpreting them in context. Even though the
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children started to show reluctance and lack of confidence toward learning kanji as it
became more challenging, they recognized the importance of learning them and engaged
in such literacy activities wishfully positioning themselves during the tutoring sessions at
home, which at times intersected with language socialization practices at school. As such,
the learning of language uses at home prepared children to cope with characteristics of
strategies used in classrooms (Heath, 1988).
5.2 Book reading during tutoring sessions at home
Book reading was introduced in my tutoring sessions both in response to a request
and as a tool for me to measure children’s Japanese literacy skills and development.
Some mothers were advised by a school teacher or a reliable source to have their children
read a lot in Japanese, and asked me as their tutor to do the same. In addition, having the
children read Japanese books gave me a good sense of their Japanese literacy, how much
hiragana, katakana, and kanji they could read, how fluently they could read, and how
much they understood the text. The books were chosen on the basis of availability at my
home, as well as books borrowed from a local library by my mother who worked as a
volunteer at a book reading club for children. Table 5-1 is a list of picture books used in
the tutoring sessions.
Table 5-1: List of Books
1
2
3
「ふたりはともだち」アーノルド・ローベル作、三木卓訳
“Futari wa tomodachi” Anorudo Rōberu saku, Miki Taku yaku
[“Frog and Toad are Friends” by Arnold Lobel, translated by Taku Miki]
「ふたりはいつも」アーノルド・ローベル作、三木卓訳
“Futari wa itsumo” Anorudo Rōberu saku, Miki Taku yaku
[“Frog and Toad All Year” by Arnold Lobel, translated by Taku Miki]
「ふたりはきょうも」アーノルド・ローベル作、三木卓訳
“Futari wa kyō mo” Anorudo Rōberu saku, Miki Taku yaku
[“Days with Frog and Toad” by Arnold Lobel, translated by Taku Miki]
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4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
「ハリネズミかあさんのふゆじたく」エヴァ・ビロウ作、佐伯 愛子訳
“Harinezumi kā-san no fuyujitaku” Eva Birou saku, Aiko Saeki yaku
[“Hedgehog Mother’s Winter Preparation” by Eva Billow, drawings by Aiko
Saeki]
「ともだちひきとりや」内田麟太郎作、降矢なな絵
“Tomodachi hikitoriya” Uchida Rintaro saku, Furuya Nana e
[“Friend Claimer” by Rintaro Uchida, drawings by Nana Furuya]
「おむすびころりん」（おとぎ話）
“Omusubi kororin” (Otogibanashi)
[“Rice Ball Rolling” (Fairy tale)]
「子ども版声に出して読みたい日本語（５）－ややこしや寿限無寿限無
／言葉あそび」斎藤孝作
“Kodomoban koe ni dashite yomitai Nihongo (5) – Yayakoshiya jugemu jugemu/
kotoba asobi” Saito Takashi saku
[“Children’s Version Read Aloud Japanese (5) – Complicated jugemu jugemu/
word play” by Takashi Saito
「100 万回生きたねこ」佐野洋子作
“Hyakumankai ikita neko” Sano Yoko saku
[“A Cat Who Lived One Million Times” by Yoko Sano
「しゃべる詩あそぶ詩きこえる詩」はせみつこ編、飯野和好絵
“Shaberu shi asobu shi kikoeru shi” Hase Mitsuko hen, Iino Kazuyoshi e
[“Poem Speaking Poem Playing Poem Heard” edited by Mitsuko Hase, drawings
by Kazuyoshi Iino
「つるのおんがえし」（おとぎ話）
“Tsuru no ongaeshi” (Otobibanashi)
[“The Grateful Crane” (Fairy tale)
「あらしのよるに」木村裕一作、あべ弘士絵
“Arashi no yoru ni” Kimura Yuichi saku, Abe Hiroshi e
[“On a stormy night” by Yuichi Kimura, drawings by Hiroshi Abe
「へっこきあねさ」長谷川摂子作、荒井良二絵
“Hekkoki anesa” Hasegawa Setsuko saku, Arai Ryoji e
[“A Woman Breaking Wind” by Setsuko Hasegawa, drawings by Ryoji Arai
Book reading emerged as a significant literacy practice where multicultural
children were socialized with other participants through this event (Heath, 1982). In the
beginning, every new practice was a novelty to them, since such experience was not
provided regularly by the adults at home who were not literate enough to read with them.
Gradually, the challenge of having to decipher a complex script and the association of
book reading as a repeated literacy practice at school distanced the children from wanting
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to read. During the book reading, children learned to listen, take turns reading, and
negotiate their turns as they were socialized into this literacy practice. This pattern of
book reading was rather unique to these tutoring sessions, since children did not have the
option of negotiating their turns (not) to read at school. In the beginning, the tutor read
books to the children, and gradually children took initiative in reading a part of the book
by choosing pages which were shorter and easier to read.
5.2.1 Taro「かえるの本は？」“Kaeru no hon wa?” [(Where is) the frog book?]
On the second visit to the Cambodian family’s home, I asked Taro if he wanted to
hear a story, after I finished tutoring Botum, Samnang, and Nobuko (a neighbor friend).
He said “yes,” so I took out the book “Frog and Toad are friends” by Arnold Lobel, and
read the first story, titled “Spring.” I quickly finished reading the short story, and Taro
showed his dissatisfaction;「えー、短い！」“E---, mijikai!” [Huh? (So) short!] I
promised him that we would continue reading the book at our next meeting, and this is
how our routine reading sessions began. Next week while I was tutoring Botum and
Samnang, Taro asked me if I brought the frog book. I did indeed, and I told him to wait
until I finished studying with his mother and Samnang. When it was time for Taro’s book
reading session, I read the second story in the same book, titled “The Story.” After I
finished reading, I asked him to read the same story by himself. This book was written all
in hiragana, but I was not sure how much he could read. He read a few sentences, and
then stopped. I encouraged him to continue reading until the end of the page, and he did.
That was enough reading for that day for him. However, these two initial book reading
sessions proved Taro’s ability to play a quiet listener role and an obedient reader role.
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Next week, Taro was joined by the baby I had met a few weeks ago. By then I had
identified him as a neighbor’s son, Raiden, who was only two years old. Raiden was
sometimes left with Taro’s family, because his mother worked every night. I read the
fourth story in the book “Frog and Toad are friends,” titled “The Swim” to them. The
story was about the Toad going for a swim in a funny bathing suit, and when the Toad
appeared with the funny bathing suit, we all laughed. Again, I encouraged Taro to read by
himself, the last story titled “The Letter.” This time, he read a few pages and then asked
me;「次、読んで」“Tsugi, yonde.”[Next, read.] We took turns to read the rest of the
story. He read well for a preschool student. When there was a word he did not understand,
he asked me;「『土手』っていうの？『土』かと思った」“‘Dote’ tte iu no? ‘Tsuchi’
ka to omotta.” [(It is) called a ‘bank (along the river)’? (I) thought (it was) ‘soil’.] As
such, Taro actively engages in book reading practices, and asks questions when he does
not fully understand the content. However, this was when Taro started to negotiate who
reads the next page.
「かえるの本は？」“Kaeru no hon wa?” [(Where is) the frog book?]: the next
time Taro asked me this question when I was tutoring Botum, I handed the book to him
so that he could read while waiting. On that day, Ryo, Taro’s father was home earlier
than usual, and was sitting in the living room with us. I suggested that Taro read the book
with his father. Taro chose a short story from the table of contents, and had the page
opened;「先生、『クリスマス・イブ』って、どこから？」“Sensei, ‘Kurisumasu
Ibu’ tte, doko kara?” [Teacher, where does ‘Christmas Eve’ start?] I told him that he had
the right page open, and he started reading while Ryo listened to him. After a while, they
switched roles and Ryo read while Taro listened. Ryo’s reading was quite smooth, and it
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sounded quite good. Another time, Taro read the book with Kolab, Samnang’s daughter
while Botum and Samnang studied. Once Taro got a feel of how this literacy practice
worked, he had other people besides the tutor to engage this activity with.
It was in March, a month before Taro began elementary school, when he started to
show less interest in reading. Now, he wanted to do rock, scissors, and paper to decide
who reads first. He tried to choose the shorter pages to read, and he tried to negotiate to
avoid reading longer pages. We were reading a book titled「ハリネズミかあさんのふ
ゆじたく」“Harinezumi kā-san no fuyujitaku” [Hedgehog Mother’s Winter
Preparation],” when Samnang came to study. Taro took this opportunity to stop reading
and said;「僕、聞いてる」“Boku, kii teru.” [I’ll listen.] I tried to convince him by
asking, “When you start elementary school, and the teacher asks you, ‘Taro, please read’
what will you do?” He immediately answered,「読む！」“Yomu!” [(I’ll) read!] I told
him that it was the same thing, but he was not convinced and still tried to negotiate with
Samnang, now that she was the one reading the book with him.
Taro was eager to start elementary school, and I was certain that he would follow
the teachers’ directions well, and he was capable of doing so. He had completely
mastered hiragana, and he read well. Having been socialized in the group tutoring of his
mother and neighbors, he knew what he was supposed to do when the tutors were present
in his home. He knew that all the adults were engaged in some literacy activities such as
studying kanji or reading a textbook with the tutors. Therefore, he searched for the book
the tutor brought to read with him, and read with his neighbor friend or his father, who
was capable of doing so, or read by himself while waiting for the tutor to finish studying
with the adults. In this manner, he was socialized through the book reading practice, and
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even learned to negotiate with the adults, in a similar manner as a preschooler from one
community in Heath’s (1982) study became familiarized with “group literacy events in
which several community members orally negotiate the meaning of a written text” (p. 72).
Taro, as a preschooler, seemed to be having a much better start than Rokuro, who was
struggling to develop the Japanese literacy in general.
5.2.2 Rokuro「疲れた」“Tsukareta.” [(I’m) tired (during book reading).]
Rokuro was in the midst of first grade in elementary school. However, he did not
read as well as Taro did. When I first brought the book ‘Frog and Toad are Friends’ for
him to read, he had difficulty reading some hiragana, yō-on (glides) as mentioned in
previous section, and he occasionally skipped some lines. I had to point to the lines he
skipped, and he did not want to reread the lines following the ones he skipped. He did not
seem to understand the whole story either. When I checked for understanding by trying to
elicit agreement, “Frog is a bad friend, isn’t he?,” he said with a curious face,「え？」
“E?” [What?], and I had to explain to him that Frog deceived Toad by ripping the
calendar months so that his friend will believe spring has come. While he was reading, he
said「疲れる」“Tsukareru.” [(I’m) getting tired.] He often said「疲れた」“Tsukareta.”
[(I’m) tired.] after reading a story, or even after reading one line or one letter. When he
was tired he lay down on the sofa next to the table and listened to me read. However,
Rokuro believed in the benefit of reading books saying,「本、読むと頭がよくなるか
らね！」“Hon, yomu to atama ga yoku naru kara ne!” [If you read books, you will
become smart!] In this manner, Rokuro seemed to be forcing himself to participate in this
literacy activity, unable to hide his reluctance by physically moving away from the book.
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Rokuro did have a preference for what kind of books to read, and he liked reading
stories that he already knew. One day, he showed me a book he got from Santa Claus at
school titled「ともだちひきとりや」“Tomodachi hikitori-ya” [Friend Claimer], and
recommended it to me;「面白いよ」“Omoshiroi yo” [(This is) interesting.] He
announced that he would read up to page seven, and started reading from the title. He
wanted to understand the story better and asked me;「『いたち』って何？」“‘Itachi’
tte nani?” [What is a ‘weasel’?] However, he still did not read very smoothly, reading
letter by letter in monotonous accent and intonation. Another book he eagerly read was
titled「おむすびころりん」“Omusubi kororin” [Rice Ball Rolling]. When I showed
him the book, he exclaimed;「知ってる！」“Shitteru!” [I know!] and recited the
rhythmical line he remembered from the book;「おむすびころりん、すっとんと
ん！」“Omusubi kororin, sutton ton!” [Rice ball rolling, down the hole!] He was able to
read this simple story quite well, except yō-on (glides) such as「こりゃ」”korya,” a
contracted form of「これは」“kore wa” [this is]. As such, it seemed like Rokuro picked
up momentum in engaging in this literacy practice.
However, Rokuro’s book reading continued to be a battle, and we usually took
turns to read each page. Even then, he did not want to read the long pages and tried to
negotiate with me. As a result, he sometimes ended up just reading the short pages and
then listening to me read the rest. However, to understand the details was as challenging
as reading the letters accurately for him. After reading the book「ハリネズミかあさん
のふゆじたく」“Harinezumi kā-san no fuyu-jitaku” [Hedgehog Mother’s Winter
Preparation], I asked him when hedgehogs start hibernation. He could not answer that
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question, and I encouraged him to read the relevant sentence again. After that, he
understood the answer as “winter.” Reading the text smoothly and understanding the
story in detail remained to be Rokuro’s challenge. However, he started to say「面白かっ
た」“Omoshirokatta.” [(It) was interesting] after reading these new stories.
As such, Rokuro had a great mood swing when he engaged in book reading
activities. In the beginning, he got ‘tired’ just reading a letter or a word and had to
physically lie down on the sofa. Therefore, he engaged in the negotiation of turn taking at
home with the tutor, a teacher-figure, who would have the authority to command him to
read, if it was at school. As a matter of fact, for him, it was not simply the challenge of
deciphering the codes, but also interpreting the story as he listened to the tutor reading.
However, when he and the tutor chose the book he already knew and liked, the reading
went more smoothly. At least, he knew the story lines, and did not have to interpret them.
Even though his book reading events did not display methods of mainstream schooloriented bookreading (Heath, 1982), Rokuro’s book reading interactions illustrate
language socialization practices through language with the tutor at home. When he did
not want to read, he negotiated and refused to read certain parts of the text, and instead
listened to the tutor read, a luxury and freedom he would not have at school. Similarly,
Ngoc did not have a great interest in book reading.
5.2.3 Ngoc「本、読むの嫌い」 “Hon, yomu no kirai.” [(I) hate reading books.]
I had a successful introduction of reading books with the Vietnamese girls on the
second visit. I brought two books, the frog book, and a collection of short poems, stories,
and tongue twisters. The girls knew the frog story and chose the other book. I started with
the “Jugemu” story, which is a comical short story about a boy who had a ridiculously
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long name. When I read it, Ngoc and Thuy remembered that they had heard it in first
grade. This short story was actually in their first grade kokugo textbook. However, they
both had not understood the story as a boy having such a long name. When I explained
that, and asked what they would do if they had such long names, Ngoc was at a loss for
answer. They liked it so much that they read it together twice, and again on another visit.
As simple as it might sound, it seemed like the girls experienced the joy of book reading
once they understood the meaning of the story, which did not happen when they read the
same story at school in first grade.
However, reading books did not become a routine activity with these girls. We
usually ran out of time, and when we had extra time we read books. One day, at the end
of the tutoring session when the girls were eating tangerines, I took out the book titled
「１００万回生きたねこ」“Hyakumankai ikita neko” [A Cat Who Lived One Million
Times]. I started reading, and Ngoc and Thuy took over after they finished eating. They
took turns, and read page by page eagerly. However, they did not let Nhu, a first grader
who had joined us by then, read because she read slowly. Another time, at the end of the
session when the girls were eating their favorite tangerines, I took out a book about apple
trees. I started reading, and Ngoc and Thuy continued after finishing their tangerines.
After a few pages, they decided that they did not like the book, and stopped reading.
Reading books proved to be quite a difficult activity among a group of friends, who read
in different speed, and who could directly express their negative feelings toward the
books and the girl who read slowly.
Therefore, book reading did not become one of their favorite activities, and we
did not read any books for the rest of the tutoring sessions, even though I had always
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brought a book in case they changed their mind. One time, when Ngoc’s first grade
brother, Thanh came in the room muttering;「つまんない」“Tsumannai” [(I’m) bored.],
I asked him if he wanted to read a book. I handed him the book I had brought that day,
and he looked at the pictures quietly. After a while, he burst into laughter. I was hoping
that the girls will show interest, and wanted to read that book. However, Ngoc did not
even look at him and murmured;「本、読むの嫌い。学校でたくさん読んでるか
ら」“Hon, yomu no kirai. Gakko de takusan yonderu kara.” [(I) hate reading books.
Because (I) read a lot at school.] Ngoc associated reading books with instructional
readings she had to do repeatedly at school.
For Ngoc, book reading was not something fun to do, but something which was
done in school during kokugo class, or kokusai class she attended. When the tutor brought
an entertaining book including the popular ‘Jugemu’ story, Ngoc and the girls liked it so
much that they read it over and over again. However, when they read it at school in first
grade, they did not fully understand the story. With a little bit of help from the tutor, the
girls were able to better interpret and enjoy the story. On the contrary, when the tutor
brought a book they did not like, they strongly refused to read it. (Perhaps, the tutor failed
to provide content and grade appropriate books for the girls.) Ngoc and the girls had the
strong say in what was covered in a tutoring session, since it was usually two or three
girls against one tutor. As such, when Ngoc engaged in book reading practices during the
tutoring sessions, she had the accompaniment of her study-mates and the tutor, and was
therefore a different kind of literacy practice than she engaged in at school. In kokusai
class, Ngoc read alone while the teacher listened to her reading, and she certainly did not
have the right to refuse to read.
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Book reading was a literacy practice multicultural children engaged in eagerly
during the tutoring sessions, but only when they liked the particular book they read. Taro
listened to the tutor reading a story to him attentively in the beginning, and gradually
started to take turns in reading a book. Rokuro liked reading his favorite book and books
which were easy for him to read. However, when it became a challenging task for him, he
negotiated his turn with the tutor and tried to avoid reading as much as possible. Ngoc
enjoyed reading certain books as a social activity with her study-mates, by reading
together in chorus, or by taking turns. Their active engagement with certain books and
their refusal to read other books showed sharp contradiction in their attitudes toward
reading. However, she confesses that she did not like the kind of reading she did at school,
and at home she had a choice of what kind of reading she wanted to engage in. This book
reading as a home literacy practice during the tutoring sessions was a unique opportunity
for multicultural children to be socialized into playing the roles of the audience and the
reader, and negotiating their turns and meaning in a “group as a whole” (Heath, 1982, p.
69).
5.3 Game playing during tutoring sessions at home
Game playing was incorporated into tutoring sessions for a couple of good
strategic reasons. First and most of all, the children loved playing games. Secondly and
most importantly, all game plays involved language and they were educational. In
particular, karuta, traditional Japanese playing cards are developed into various
educational materials for learning hiragana, katakana, and even kanji. An additional
benefit of using karuta during tutoring sessions was that it could involve the whole
family to participate. As such, karuta, as well as other game playing, was a social activity
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involving language and other participants where multicultural children were socialized
through patterned routines such as winning and losing to participate effectively “in ways
that enable one to locate oneself strategically and flexibly in respect to currently ongoing
interactions and activities as well as group boundaries and the identities” (Garrett &
Baquedano-López, 2002). Karuta was one of the favorite literacy-based game activities
played by the children, and it is a word game using two sets of card decks. One set has
pictures and letters to be scattered on a flat surface, and the other has a poem or a
sentence to be read. The reader reads the card, and the players find the corresponding
card scattered on a flat surface. Whoever gets the most number of cards is the winner of
the game.
5.3.1 Taro「（カルタ）やる！」“(Karuta) Yaru!” [(I) will play (karuta)!]
Game playing was by far the favorite activity among the children during my
tutoring sessions. However, with Taro I did not have any opportunities to play games
until in February when Botum returned to Cambodia for a few weeks. Now I had the
whole tutoring session time for him. When I asked him if he wanted to play the card
game karuta, he exclaimed with excitement;「やる！」“Yaru!” [(I) will play!] The
karuta cards I had brought were in the form of a question, and whoever found the
appropriate card had to answer the question correctly to receive the card. Samnang had
joined our tutoring session that day, and played karuta with us. Usually one person reads
all the cards, but they wanted to take turns. The card read;「『さ』ばくのなかでいち
ばんあるけるのは？」“‘Sa’baku no naka de ichiban arukeru no wa?” [ What can walk
the most distance in a desert?] Taro took the card which had the hiragana「さ」“sa,”
which started the question sentence, and answered;「馬だと思う」“Uma da to omou.”
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[(I) think it is a horse.] I gave him a second chance, and asked, ‘What lives in the desert?’,
and he shouted;「らくだだ！」“Rakuda da!” [(It) is a camel!] As such, karuta allows
multiple participants to be engaged in reading, listening, and finding the appropriate card
with hiragana on it, requiring “anticipation and recognition of cues for upcoming
behaviors” (Heath, 1982, p. 66).
With all children, I made playing games a reward for working hard on practicing
kanji, reading a book, or solving a math problem. After Taro and Samnang finished
reading a story from the frog book with a bit of effort, I suggested playing a game using
karuta cards. He exclaimed with joy;「カルタ？！」“Karuta?!” This time, I introduced
a different game using the same cards. All the cards were scattered on the floor just like
playing karuta, but each player had to make up a word using the letters. I invited Kolab
who was doing some part-time work to assemble and label pens, to join. Mealea, Taro’s
oldest sister had come home by then and was sitting in the living room. She said「面白
そう」 “Omoshirosō.” [(It) looks interesting], and joined us. Taro was excited and
wanted to go first saying;「俺から」“Ore kara.” [Me (casual) first], switching to the
casual form of masculine pronoun to call himself (instead of boku, formal masculine
pronoun). No one argued with him. He chose two cards,「ぬ」“nu” and「る」“ru,”
making the word「ぬる」“nuru” [to color]. Five of us took turns to try to get as many
cards as possible. It became more difficult as the cards began to disappear in each of our
hands. We started to look for one letter words, such as「め」“me” [eye],「よ」“yo
[night], and「と」“to [door]. The best and the longest word created was by Taro;「どう
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ぶつ」“dōbutsu [animal]. When we counted the cards, taro had 13 cards and the winner
exclaimed with joy;「やった！」“Yatta!” [I did it!]
The karuta game was something the student tutors had brought to this Cambodian
home before, and it was not the first time Taro played it. Therefore, they had created their
own rule of taking turns to read the cards. Normally, one person is assigned to read the
cards. However, taking turns was a good way to provide everyone the opportunities to
practice reading Japanese. After all, everyone gathered at Taro’s home was there to study
Japanese. In this group of JSL adults, Taro happily helped them to read the cards, and at
the same time, happily won the games. He was quick to find the appropriate cards on the
floor, as fast as the other adults, and was capable of answering the questions on the cards,
better than the other adults, and knew more Japanese words than the other adults. As such,
Taro was socialized through the karuta game playing practice with the JSL adults and the
tutor, playing the role of a Japanese language expert and the game expert at the same time,
strategically and flexibly locating himself in the interactions (Garrett & BaquedanoLópez, 2002). Similarly, karuta was Rokuro’s favorite activity which he engaged in
occasionally with his tutors and his mother.
5.3.2 Rokuro「（カルタして）楽しかった人？！」
“(Karuta shite) Tanoshikatta hito?!” [Who had fun (playing karuta)?!]
Rokuro loved playing the karuta game. On my first visit with the other two tutors,
after studying with Ms. Kato, he had brought out his hiragana karuta cards and played,
including Calista, Rokuro’s mother. By my fourth visit, he had gotten used to me as his
tutor, and wanted to play karuta with me after studying. He called,「ママ！」 “Mama!”
[Mom!], and started scattering the cards on the table. I invited Vasco, Rokuro’s father to
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join us. However, he responded,「できません」“Dekimasen.” [(I) can’t]. I tried to
encourage him by asking if he knew a little hiragana such as「あ」“A,” the first letter of
the hiragana chart. Again, his reply was negative,「ぜんぜんだめです」“Zenzen dame
desu.” [(I) can’t at all]. So it was Rokuro, Calista, and myself. I suggested Calista to read,
for her practice. Rokuro was fast in finding the cards. He had memorized the pictures to
the cards rather than looking for the appropriate letters. For instance, he looked for a
picture of a pencil for「えんぴつ」“empitsu” [pencil], rather than the letter「え」“E.”
Rokuro won the game easily by getting twice as many cards as I did. He was quite
satisfied and asked;「楽しかった人？！」“Tanoshikatta hito?!” [Who had fun?!], and
Calista and I raised our hands with agreement. At Rokuro’s home, Calista was the only
one who would participate in his favorite game, unlike Taro’s home.
Rokuro did not sit still in his seat during the one hour tutoring sessions.
Integrating game playing was a way to keep his attention, and to keep him interested in
studying. I introduced to him games like hangman, bingo, amidakuji¸ a diagram usually
used for matching one component to the other, and “sentence game,” a game to construct
sentences word by word. I also played shiritori, a game to come up with a word which
starts with the last syllable of the word the previous person said, and origami pakkun,
using origami paper folded into a box-like figure which you can open and close. As I
started to introduce him to new games, he became creative and made his own. He called
it as a “kanji game,” and explained the rules to me. We had a piece of paper to write, and
since I did not understand the procedures very clearly, I wrote a few kanji problems. He
had his own idea of this game, and said that he already had 14 kanji written down. Now I
was supposed to choose a kanji, and I said「田んぼの田」“Tanbo no ta” [Ta of rice
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field]. He exclaimed with joy,「ありません！」“Arimasen!” [Not here!] After I looked
at what he wrote, I realized that he invented this game with the idea of hangman and
bingo.
With Rokuro, playing games was an integral and necessary part of the tutoring
sessions. However, unlike Taro’s home or Ngoc’s case where they have other participants
in their tutoring sessions, Rokuro’s case was a little different. Actually, playing karuta in
a group of more than three people was a rare occasion, especially after his mother, Calista
changed her work to night shift, and had to rest and sleep during the day when the tutors
visited their home. In addition, his father did not have the literacy skills to participate in
this activity. Game playing, especially, a card game such as karuta, is more enjoyable
with multiple participants. Therefore, Rokuro and the tutor had to be a little creative in
enjoying these games by themselves, and learning from them. Rokuro always enjoyed
playing games, and enthusiastically engaged in literacy activities related to these games.
If he had to write nine kanji characters in a chart of nine boxes to play a bingo game, he
did without reluctance. As such, Rokuro was socialized through literacy related game
playing activities with the tutor, learning to be creative and inventing a game himself. In
this manner, he took initiative in his learning and exhibited agency in his socialization
process (Bayley & Schecter, 2003; Garrett & Baquedano-López, 2002). Game playing
was how I caught the hearts of the Vietnamese girls, ‘allowing’ me to come to tutor them
every week.
5.3.3 Ngoc「カルタやって、文章ゲームね」
“Karuta yatte, bunshō gēmu ne.” [After karuta, sentence game, okay?]
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The Vietnamese children also loved playing karuta game, and Ngoc owned
karuta cards with Shizuku-chan design, their favorite anime character. On my second
visit to her home, we played the game three times, taking turns to read the cards. Karuta
game became a serious activity as the number of children participating in my tutoring
sessions increased. By spring, Linh, a third grader had joined our group, and when Ngoc,
Thuy, Nhu, and Linh played karuta, it became a battle, especially when we played the
karuta with questions on the cards.「『か』ぎをかけてお金を入れておく箱は？」
“‘Ka’gi o kakete okane o irete oku hako wa?” [What is a box where you put money and
lock?] Ngoc got the card「か」 “ka,” and said;「貯金箱？宝箱？」“Chokinbako?
Takarabako?” [Piggy bank? Treasure box?] We had played this game before, but she did
not remember the word「金庫」“Kinko” [safety box]. Ngoc could not get the card
because she did not answer the question correctly. Three other competitive players were
happy to see her failure, because it meant more chances for them to win the game.
I introduced other games to these children: bingo, amidakuji¸ hangman, and
sentence game. Ngoc;「カルタやって、文章ゲームね」“Karuta yatte, bunshō gēmu
ne.” [After karuta, sentence game, okay?] These two activities became her favorite
activities ever since I introduced sentence game to her during other children’s absence.
The sentence consisted of five components; topic followed by particle「は」“wa,” time
expression followed by「に」“ni,” place followed by「で」“de,” object followed by
「を」“o,” and finally verb in past tense. The game procedure was to prepare a long
sheet of paper folded in six compartments, and write in each component in each box,
taking turns. As you write, you will fold the paper so that the next person cannot see what
you wrote. In the end, you have co-constructed funny sentences which do not always
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make sense. With Ngoc, I made up an advanced rule that whoever has more kanji in the
sentence is the winner of the game. She made every effort to make the sentences long
with many kanji included as possible, and asked how to write some characters she could
not remember;「『きょうか』って、どう書く？」“‘Kyoka’ tte, dō kaku?” [How do
you write ‘subject’?] (See Figure 5-6). In the end, it became a very creative and effective
way to practice kanji. It was also a good way to practice writing in sentence level with
embedded phrases. This was how the “sentence game” became a special game for Ngoc
and me, since two of us were the only participants co-constructing the sentences.
Figure 5-6: Sentence Game with Ngoc
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Ngoc and I played the sentence game many times when the other girls happened
to be absent from the tutoring sessions a few consecutive weeks. Ngoc seemed to like the
thrill of not knowing what was written underneath the folded paper, and sometimes could
not resist taking a peek. She also liked the randomness of the completed sentences, and
we both laughed out loud when we read the sentences together. However, Ngoc and I did
not have a very successful introduction of this game to the other girls when they returned
to the tutoring sessions. I encouraged Ngoc to explain the game to the girls, and during
her clumsy explanation Thuy had already decided that she did not like the game.
Therefore, this game was only played once with the other girls who ended up not liking it
so much as Ngoc, and was never played again. On the contrary, karuta game could not be
avoided once the girls found out that I had them with me. As such, the choice of game
playing activities during the tutoring sessions with the Vietnamese girls was a political
matter. Ngoc’s attempt to introduce one of her favorite games, the sentence game, to the
girls was unsuccessful and because her strong political opponent did not like the game, it
was never played again. Game playing itself was political among these highly
competitive girls, and Ngoc socialized herself through such activities to merge herself
into peer politics (Morita, 2002).
Multicultural children enjoyed playing games during the tutoring sessions, and
learned and became socialized through language play as a literacy practice. All three of
them loved playing karuta and enthusiastically engaged in this literacy practice which
involved reading, listening, and answering questions. At Taro’s home, his mother, sister,
and his neighbors participated in this activity, where they have created their own
procedures for playing the game for the JSL learners. Rokuro became creative and made
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up his own game, eagerly writing kanji, which he would normally dread to do. Similarly,
Ngoc made every effort to win the ‘sentence game’ by writing as many kanji words as
possible. As such, game playing provided multicultural children with the opportunities to
be socialized in literacy practices, having to compete with their opponents and trying to
win the games, which are routine actions in this social and linguistic organization (Ochs,
2000).
5.4 Conclusion
Multicultural children in this study spoke Japanese most comfortably with the
tutors, family members, and friends at home and around their neighborhood in the
community. However, children started to show difficulty and reluctance in Japanese
literacy activities as they began learning the complex writing system of kanji. Taro had
an advantage of having his mother staying at home and studying Japanese with the home
tutors every week. He was able to read hiragana and katakana fluently, and had started to
learn a few kanji in grade one. On the contrary, Rokuro was still learning to write and
read hiragana and katakana fluently in grade one. On top of that, being in the midst of
first grade he was burdened with the task of learning a certain number of kanji regularly.
Ngoc showed lack of confidence in kokugo and worked hard to catch up with her
academics which had only gotten more difficult in grade two. In sum, multicultural
children raised in Japan speak Japanese most comfortably in their every day lives.
However, as they began elementary school, they started to show lack of confidence in
Japanese literacy, especially kanji, and showed reluctance toward reading in general.
Therefore, the literacy practices introduced during the tutoring sessions have
special implications for multicultural children’s literacy and language socialization,
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especially because they were not naturally introduced to their homes without the
participation of the Japanese tutors, and in some cases, children were introduced to such
activities for the first time. Kanji learning and practices which became an integral part of
the tutoring sessions mirrored the same kinds of literacy activities practiced in kokugo
class at school. Book reading activity during the tutoring sessions at home gave more
freedom to the children compared to the version at school, and made space for them to
negotiate their turn taking. Game playing motivated the children to achieve the goal of
winning against their opponents, and as a result, provided opportunities for the children
to engage in literacy practices. As such, children appropriately and strategically
positioned themselves as legitimate kanji learners, as book readers and listeners, and as
game players by fully engaging in tutoring practices. Many of these discursive practices
involved multiple interactions with multiple participants, and the children were not just
objects of language socialization, but also its agents (Bayley & Schecter, 2003; Garrett &
Baquedano-López, 2002), influencing the choice of activities and routines of practices.
Children actively chose which activity they wanted to be engaged in, and in some cases,
improvised the rules of game playing to benefit their own learning. Next, I move on to
analyze multicultural children’s use of home languages in Chapter Six.
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CHAPTER SIX
MULTICULTURAL CHILDREN’S HOME LANGUAGES
Children’s home language use is limited compared to their Japanese use both at
home and outside of home. Especially in front of Japanese tutors, it cannot be expected
that the children will actively speak their home languages. Moreover, for all three
children, Japanese has become the stronger language, and their home language
production was limited, to different degrees. Even though that is the case, the following
section describes their home language use in daily life. From the data, it is clear that
children have opportunities to use their home languages, whether they take the
opportunity or not. Their family members actively use the home languages to the children
at home, having limited Japanese language proficiency. In response, children may or may
not use their home language. Contemporary ethnographic studies in the western bilingual
communities have provided evidence for the argument that the use of home language was
necessary to foster development in both languages. They also argue that the ways in
which families have chosen to pursue the goal of maintenance of their home language
vary widely (Schecter & Bayley, 2002; Zentella, 1997), and similar observations will be
revealed in the homes of multicultural children in this study. In this chapter, I describe
children’s home language use and their family members’, particularly their parents’
linguistic repertoires.
6.1 Multicultural Children’s home languages
Observing multicultural children speaking their home language was a rather rare
occasion. However, this did not mean that the children did not want to speak the language
or learn it. In some cases, they did not have the ability to speak it, or did not have the
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opportunities to learn it. The children’s parents desire for them to learn and maintain their
home language and the amount they spoke it at home varied to different degrees.
Therefore, these moments were precious input (and output) for the children, and they
responded in various manners, in some cases in Japanese or their home language,
depending on the context. With Japanese tutors present in their homes, multicultural
children engaged in language socialization practices by and through the use of two
languages creating a small multilingual community (Bayley & Schecter, 2003).
6.1.1 Taro「（カンボジア語）大好きで、だけどしゃべれない」“(Kambojia-go)
Daisukide, dakedo shaberenai.” [I love Cambodian, but I can’t speak it.]
When asked how important Cambodian is to him, Taro responded,「大好きで、
だけどしゃべれない。だから、寝る時いっつも泣いてる」 “Daisuki de, dakedo
shaberenai. Dakara, neru toki ittsumo naiteru.” [I love it. But I can’t speak it. So when
I’m in bed I always cry.] In this response, he indicated his desire to speak Cambodian,
and he made every effort to practice Cambodian, and found opportunities to speak the
language. On October 25, I was tutoring Botum, Taro’s mother, and Sann, Taro’s
brother-in-law (Mealea’s husband), while Taro practiced Cambodian with Kolab, their
neighbor using an animal picture book. After I finished tutoring Botum and Sann, I read
the book ‘Frog and Toad are Friends’ with Taro. He remembered that there was a picture
of a toad in the animal picture book, and showed it to me. I asked him how to say ‘toad’
in Cambodian. With Kolab’s help, he pronounced the Cambodian word. When I said I
wanted to learn Cambodian too, he suggested that I come on Saturday mornings when
Botum teaches Cambodian to him and other children in the neighborhood. Ryo, Taro’s
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father explained this Cambodian language maintenance class to me as follows, in an
interview dated April 5, 2008.
難民事業本部の***母国***は、支援制度があるんですよ。で、今年はまだ
返事してくれない***山本のあたりの子ども達、カンボジアの子ども達を
教えるんですよ、カンボジア語で***（先生は）結構友達のほうはセンタ
ーの***近所の、特にカンボジア人結構団地***山本団地は大きいですので
***少なくてもカンボジア人は***ひとつ家族がいるんですね***多いとき
は五家族がいるんです。結構みんないるんですので、子ども達誰か勉強し
たい、カンボジアを勉強したいの子ども達を受け入れて、それでやってい
る***支援は一年ぐらいごとは決めるんですよ***一年支援して、またニ年
三年はもうないでまたニ年三年後でまた***ほんとにですね、毎年ですね、
やりたいですね。子ども達でも、例えば長く休みになると忘れちゃう。
Nanminjigyōhonbu no *** bokoku *** wa, shien seido ga aru n desu yo. De,
kotoshi wa mada henji o shite kurenai *** Yamamoto no atari no kodomotachi,
Kambojia no kodomotachi o oshieru n desu yo, Kambojiago de *** (Sensei wa)
kekkō tomodachi no hō wa sentā no *** kinjo no, toku ni Kambojiajin kekkō
danchi *** Yamamoto danchi wa ōkii desu node *** sukunakutemo Kambojiajin
wa hitotsu katei ga iru n desu ne *** ōi toki wa gokazoku ga iru n desu. Kekkō
minna iru n desu node, kodomotachi dareka benkyō shitai, Kambojia o benkyō
shitai no kodomotachi o ukeirete, sorede yatte iru *** shien wa ichinen gurai
goto wa kimeru n desu yo *** ichinen shien shite, mata ninen sannen wa mō nai
de mata ninen sannengo de mata *** honto ni desu ne, maitoshi desu ne, yaritai
desu ne. Kodomotachi demo, tatoeba nagaku yasumi ni naru to wasurechau.
[Refugee Assistance Headquarters *** home country *** there is an aid system.
But this year they haven’t responded yet *** children in the vicinity of
Yamamoto, teach Cambodian children in Cambodian *** (Teachers are) some
friends from the center, neighboring, especially some Cambodians in danchi
housing *** Yamamoto housing complex is big so *** at least there is one
Cambodian family *** when there are many, there are as many as five families.
Because there are fairly many, children who want to study, children who want to
study Cambodian are accepted, and that’s how it is done *** The aid is decided
about every year *** One year aid, and then already two, three years without it,
another two, three years later again *** We really want to do it every year. Even
children forget when there are long breaks, for example.]
Taro considered this sporadic Cambodian language maintenance class to be appropriate
not only for him to maintain his home language, but also for the tutor to learn Cambodian
as a second language. I was curious to observe this class, but it was not offered in the
months of my observations.
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According to Ryo, one day Taro came home from nursery school and said to him,
「カンボジア語、話したくない」“Kambojia-go, hanashitakunai.” [I don’t want to
speak Cambodian.] Ryo evaluates his Japanese as being better than Cambodian, and
regrets that Taro speaks less Cambodian than before. Mealea, Taro’s oldest sister makes
the same observations as follows.
忘れてきてますね。母と話すときはカンボジア語ですけど、私たちと話す
ときは日本語なので、もっとカンボジア語を話さなきゃと思いますね。一
番下の妹は完全に日本語なので。でも、一番下の妹よりいい。妹はもっと
忘れてる。
Wasurete kite masu ne. Haha to hanasu toki wa Kambojiago desu kedo,
watashitachi to hanasu toki wa Nihongo na node, motto Kambojiago o
hanasanakya to omoimasu ne. Ichiban shita no imōto wa kanzen ni Nihongo na
node. Demo, ichiban shita no imōto yori ii. Imōto wa motto wasureteru.
[He is starting to forget (Cambodian). When talking to mother, Cambodian is used,
but when talking to us it is Japanese, so I think we should speak more Cambodian.
Because my youngest sister speaks completely in Japanese. But he is better than
the youngest sister. Sister has forgotten more.]
Even though that was their evaluation, I started to hear him speaking Cambodian in
longer phrases in the last few months, than in my first few months of observations. On
January 24, 2008, I was tutoring Botum when a word she did not understand appeared in
「新日本語の基礎Ｉ」“SHIN NIHONGO NO KISO I” [Beginner Japanese I], the
textbook we were studying from. The word was「庭」“niwa” [garden, yard]. I was
trying to explain it in Japanese as “a place outside your home, and there are trees and
flowers…,” when Taro who was playing Game Boy until then, put the game on the floor
and stood up. He suddenly started speaking Cambodian, trying to explain “garden,
yard”38 to his mother. I had never heard him speaking Cambodian in such a long stretch
of discourse. I was so surprised and praised him for helping his mother in Cambodian. He
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I later learned that the Cambodian word for「庭」“niwa” [garden, yard] and「公園」“kōen” [park] are
the same. Therefore, there was a little confusion when Botum looked this word up in her dictionary.
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looked very proud of himself, and Botum had the biggest smile on her face. On such
occasions when Botum and I could not communicate clearly with each other, Taro felt
encouraged to speak Cambodian to help his mother and the tutor.
Taro had good receptive skills in Cambodian, and he seemed to understand
everything his parents were saying to each other, and to him. When Botum and Ryo were
talking in Cambodian, Taro sometimes translated what they were saying in Japanese for
me. When Botum commanded him in Cambodian, to put away his toys, to pick up the
phone, to call someone, to turn off the TV, etc., he followed her directions. Other people
who spoke Cambodian to him were Sann, Samnang, Kolab, and other neighbors. He was
learning to read and write in Cambodian, and sometimes there were Cambodian letters
written on the small whiteboard they had in the living room. When I asked him if he
could write Cambodian he answered,「１から３までね」 “Ichi kara san made ne.” [(I
can write) From 1 to 3] (from an interview dated April 17, 2008). However, he was
concerned about his home language maintenance. He said on February 12, 2008, 「小学
校に入ったら、カンボジア語忘れちゃう」“Shōgakko ni haittara, Kanbojiago
wasure chau.” [When I start elementary school, I will forget Cambodian (with regret).]
As such, even though now Taro was willing to maintain Cambodian, he was
feeling as if he was on the verge of forgetting the language. Without being able to rely
too much on the Cambodian maintenance program provided by the Refugee Assistance
Headquarters, he had to make an effort to use the language at home as much as possible.
In fact, the tutoring sessions provided him with unique opportunities to speak Cambodian.
The tutor actively asked him to teach Cambodian words, and showed interest in learning
the language. Therefore, he started to speak more Cambodian in the presence of the tutor,
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playing the role of a language mediator between the tutor and his mother, when there was
a misunderstanding. Even when there was no need for such mediation, he voluntarily
translated what his father and mother were saying to each other in Cambodian to
Japanese for me. In this manner, Taro was socialized through two languages in these
multilingual interactions to play a significant role as a language broker (Lotherington,
2003). Rokuro had fewer opportunities to participate in these kinds of interactions.
6.1.2 Rokuro「（スペイン語を）話したいけど話せない」
“(Supein-go o) Hanashitai kedo hanasenai.” [ I want to speak (Spanish) but I can’t.]
From my observation, Rokuro spoke less Spanish than Taro spoke his home
language. Even if I heard him speak (or count in) Spanish the first day of my visit to his
home, that was not his routine behavior. It was on October 2nd, when I visited his home
with two volunteer tutors, Matsumoto-san and Kato-san. I watched them playing the
karuta card game, and at the end of the game they all counted together to determine the
winner who has obtained the most number of cards. First in Japanese, and then Kato-san
encouraged him to count in Spanish. “Uno, dos, tres…,” with his mother, Calista’s help,
he slowly counted up to ten. According to him, he「（スペイン語を）話したいけど
話せない」“(Supein-go o) Hanashitai kedo hanasenai.” [wants to speak (Spanish), but
he can’t.] Calista recognized him as speaking a little Spanish mixed in Japanese sentences,
such as「Agua、頂戴」“Give me water.” However, when comparing Rokuro to her
daughter, Yoko, who was more balanced bilingually but had a difficult transition from
one language to another, Calista praised Rokuro for his willingness to speak both
languages at the same time. Even though Rokuro’s Spanish was as elementary as needing
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Calista’s help to simply count in Spanish, the mother did not push him to speak the
language at home.
As such, contrary to Rokuro’s family’s supportive comments regarding his
Spanish acquisition, I never had an opportunity to hear him speak Spanish in phrases or
sentences. His Spanish production I observed throughout the seven months was limited to
vocabulary, such as counting, saying and calling names, swearing, and saying food names.
On October 27 when I visited his home, everyone was working on their family business,
to make and deliver Peruvian chicken. Rokuro’s father, Vasco was roasting the chicken
on the grill he built himself. Calista, Rokuro, and their relatives, Taichi and Minoru, were
all putting chili mayonnaise sauce they made into small and big containers to go with the
chicken. Taichi was in his twenties and lived in Tokyo by himself. Minoru was 18 years
old and was visiting Japan for a short period of time. I helped with the task, and we
prepared 160 small containers and about 20 big containers filled with this sauce. While
working on this task, there were a few Spanish exchanges between Rokuro, Taichi, and
Minoru. Taichi did not speak Japanese as well as Rokuro, and Minoru did not speak at all.
When Minoru misplaced the sauce which was difficult to put in the small container,
Rokuro said “¡Ojo!” [Watch out!] I asked him what he said, and he translated it into
Japanese as「何やってるんだ！」“Nani yatteru n da!” [What are you doing!] He also
called him “Cucaracha” [cockroach]. Taichi then told me that there is a cockroach song
in Spanish. I asked them to sing, but nobody wanted to sing. Taichi encouraged Rokuro
to sing, and he said “Tú!” [You!] to his brother. This was the most meaningful interaction
in Spanish I had observed Rokuro engage in, in the whole eight months of observations.
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Even if Rokuro had opportunities to speak Spanish outside of home, he did not
take advantage of those moments. On March 10, Rokuro and I went to the park after
studying. When we walked out of the apartment building, we ran into a couple, one of
whom noticed Rokuro. The man spoke to him in Spanish, “¿Adónde vas?” [Where are
you going?], and Rokuro responded in Japanese「公園」“Kōen.” [Park.] The Japanese
woman who had her arms around the man’s, introduced herself and him in Japanese, “I’m
Hanako. (And) Alejandro. We are getting married.” I congratulated them, and Alejandro
asked Rokuro’s name. Rokuro remained silent, so I told him to introduce himself. The
woman encouraged him too by asking,「お名前は？」“O-namae wa?” [Your name?]
Now he responded like a model student,「寺内六郎です」“Terauchi Rokuro desu.” [I
am Terauchi Rokuro.] Afterwards, Rokuro told me that Alejandro knew his name, and
perhaps he was confused when Alejandro asked him his name.
The above fieldnote excerpts illustrate Rokuro’s limited productive abilities in
Spanish. However, he claimed that he wanted to speak Spanish, and showed willingness
to use the language at home. When he was surrounded by speakers of Spanish, his
relatives, he engaged in meaningful interactions with them. When the tutor asked him
what he had said, he appropriately translated his utterance into Japanese. However, once
he was a step outside of his home, Spanish did not naturally come out of his mouth. Even
to answer a simple question in Spanish as “Where are you going?,” he responded in
Japanese. This was a pattern often observed at home too, when his parents spoke to him
in Spanish. For now, Rokuro’s parents were happy if he was able to comprehend their
Spanish, and did not insist on being answered in Spanish (Zentella, 1997).
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Rokuro did have receptive skills in Spanish, and could translate adult
conversation into Japanese for me. One day, their acquaintance came to pick up the
Peruvian chicken order, and waited for them to roast on the grill. While they waited,
Rokuro’s mother, Calista, and her friend chatted in Spanish in the kitchen. Listening in to
their lively conversation, Rokuro could not resist but to explain to me what they were
talking about. Apparently, Calista’s friend was picked up by the police when she was
driving, and the story was scandalous enough that he wanted to share with me. At other
times, Rokuro refused to translate Calista’s Spanish even if he was asked to do so. Since
his mother started to work night shifts, she would go back to bed right after she greeted
me and served me some tea and food. On this day, Calista whispered into Rokuro’s ear in
Spanish and then said in Japanese「先生に．．．」 “Sensei ni…” [To Teacher…] He
immediately responded「ええー、自分でいいなよ！」 “Ee---, jibun de ii na yo!”
[Whaaat, tell (her) yourself!] Calista wanted to excuse herself and go back to sleep.
Rokuro clearly understood what Calista had requested him to say, but perhaps felt
reluctant to pass on this rather embarrassing message. These examples illustrate Rokuro’s
receptive skills in Spanish, and his capability of translating Spanish to Japanese to engage
in brokering (Lotherington, 2003).
Rokuro could not read or write in Spanish. When I asked him if he could, he
answered,「まだやったことない」“Mada yatta koto nai.” [I haven’t tried it yet.]
Vasco comments on how he changed his ways of educating Rokuro, learning from Yoko,
their daughter’s experience, in the interview dated March 29, 2008.
Vasco: (In Spanish)
Yoko: (Translates Vasco’s Spanish) 私の場合はペルーの学校も通って、日本
でもそういうペルーのなんか通信教育じゃないんですけど、そういうの受
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けてたんですよ。やっぱいろいろごちゃ混ぜになってくるんですよね、両
方やってると。で、やっぱ問題とかもいろいろあったので六郎の場合はも
うほんとに日本にxxxだから、日本語だけってなってるんですよ。だから
やり方を変えた。
Watashi no bāi wa Perū no gakkō mo kayotte, Nihon demo sō iu Perū no nanka
tsūshin kyōiku ja nai n desu kedo, sō iu no uketeta n desu yo. Yappa iroiro gocha
maze ni natte kuru n desu yo ne, ryōhō yatteru to. De, yappa mondai toka mo
iroiro atta node, Rokuro no bāi wa mō honto ni Nihon ni xxx dakara, Nihongo
dake tte natteru n desu yo. Dakara yarikata o kaeta.
[In my case, I went to school in Peru, and in Japan also I took such like
correspondence course in Peru. Obviously things were mixed up, when I did both
(Japanese and Spanish). So, obviously there were various problems, so for Rokuro,
really Japan xxx so, it has become only Japanese. So we changed our ways.]
Calista is also worried more about his Japanese language development than Spanish, and
the complexities of requiring him to speak both languages at the same time, as in the
following comments in the interview dated April 5, 2008.
Calista: (In Spanish)
Yoko: (Translates Calista’s Spanish) 春に六郎８歳ですし、やっぱちっちゃい
ころから家ではスペイン語、保育園行ったら日本語っていってなんかやっ
ぱ日本語もまともにすべてちゃんと話せないのに、その中でスペイン語も
言われてるから、やっぱどっかで複雑なんでしょうね、六郎。たまに日本
語、話してても私も「違うでしょ」っていって「こうでしょ」ってちゃん
とことば一つ一つ教えてあげたりとかしないといけないときもあるので。
Haru ni Rokuro hassai desu shi, yappa chicchai koro kara ie de wa Supeingo,
hoikuen ittara Nihongo tte itte nanka yappa Nihongo mo matomo ni subete chanto
hanasenai noni, sono naka de Supeingo mo iwareteru kara, yappa dokka de
fukuzatsu na n deshō ne, Rokuro. Tama ni Nihongo, hanashitetemo watashi mo
“chigau desho” tte itte “kō desho” tte chanto kotoba hitotsu hitotsu oshiete
agetari toka shinai to ikenai toki mo aru node.
[In Spring Rokuro will be 8 years old, and obviously since he was small at home
Spanish, in preschool Japanese, like obviously, he can not even speak completely
all Japanese properly, in such situation, he is told Spanish, so obviously
somewhere he probably has complex feelings. Sometimes even when he is
speaking Japanese, there are times when I have to tell him “That’s not right” or “It
‘s such and such” and teach him word by word properly.]
Every child’s bilingual developmental process is different, and Rokuro’s case is
no exception. Particularly, his experience is in sharp contrast with his older sister, Yoko,
who was born in Peru, came to Japan, and then returned to Peru in her childhood.
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Understanding and experiencing the complexity of learning two languages at the same
time, Rokuro’s parents and Yoko creates a supportive multilingual environment for him
at home. They speak to him in Spanish, and praise him for his willingness to speak in the
language. This is an indication that he perhaps uses Spanish more often without the
presence of the tutor at home. However, with a curious tutor who wants to understand
everything which was said in Spanish in his home, Rokuro is socialized into playing the
role of a Spanish-Japanese translator, and perhaps choosing to speak Japanese, rather than
Spanish, in the presence of a Japanese tutor. Ngoc played her multilingual roles more
openly.
6.1.3 Ngoc「（ベトナム語）できるけど、日本語のほうが得意」
“(Betonamu-go) Dekiru kedo, Nihon-go no hō ga tokui.” [I can do Vietnamese, but
I’m better in Japanese.]
Ngoc did not hesitate to speak Vietnamese at home in front of me, and unlike
Taro and Rokuro, she was capable of speaking her home language. She spoke
Vietnamese to scold her younger brother, Thanh, to count and say numbers when
working on math problems, to talk to her aunt and uncle who do not speak Japanese, to
answer phone calls, to talk to Vietnamese visitors, her friends and their parents, and
occasionally to translate my Japanese into Vietnamese for her family members. However,
unlike Yoko, Rokuro’s sister, she did not always happily translate Japanese to
Vietnamese for me. When I offered her aunt, Cam, Japanese tutoring, I asked Ngoc to
translate what I said. However, she refused and responded with hesitation,「分かんない。
『日本語』っていうのは、ベトナム語で分かるけど．．．」“Wakannai, ‘Nihongo’ tte iu no wa, Betonamu-go de wakaru kedo…” [I don’t know. I know how to say
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‘Japanese’ in Vietnamese, but…] Therefore, I simply asked her to convey my message
that I will come at six o’clock next week. Ngoc happily translated that message into
Vietnamese, and Cam looked at me with astonishment, her big eyes wide open. I could
tell that my message was successfully conveyed. When I asked Ngoc if she could speak
Vietnamese in the group interview dated April 2, 2008, she had responded that she could
but was better in Japanese. Ngoc was aware that her Japanese was better than Vietnamese,
and unlike Yoko who was trained as a language broker by her father, she was unable to
literally translate my Japanese into Vietnamese.
Ngoc mother, Thi’s observations made in the interview dated April 12, 2008, was
as follows.
今はね、たぶん日本語ほうが好きと思うけどベトナム語はあまりいやと思
うなんですけど、私は絶対できればね、ベトナム語話したほうがいい。お
ばあちゃんとおじいちゃんがいるから、もし自分の言葉ね、分かんないか
ら大変。xxx てもベトナム語話してください。ほとんど日本語大好きと思
う。話したいとかね。なんか学校いってるから xxx 日本語言ったらね、す
ぐできるけど、ベトナム語遅い。わからないから xxx ときは遅い。私は、
絶対できればね、分かるところまでベトナム語のほうが話してください。
Ima wan e, tabun Nihongo hō ga suki to omou kedo Betonamugo wa amari iya to
omou na n desu kedo, watashi wa zettai dekireba ne, Betonamugo hanashita hō
ga ii. Obā-chan to ojii-chan ga iru kara, moshi jibun no kotoba ne, wakannai
kara taihen. xxx temo Betonamugo hanashite kudasai. Hotondo Nihongo daisuki
to omou. Hanashitai toka ne. Nanka gakkō itteru kara xxx Nihongo ittara ne, sugu
dekiru kedo, Betonamugo osoi. Wakaranai kara xxx toki wa osoi. Watashi wa
zettai dekireba ne, wakaru tokoro made Betonamugo no hō ga hanashite kudasai.
[Now I think probably they like Japanese better, but I think they don’t like
Vietnamese that much, but I definitely if possible they should speak Vietnamese.
Because they have grandma and grandpa, if they don’t understand their language,
that would be terrible. Even xxx please speak Vietnamese. I think they practically
love Japanese. Like they want to speak it. Because like they go to school xxx
when speaking Japanese they can be fast, but Vietnamese is slow. Because they
don’t know when xxx slow. I definitely if possible, say what they can in
Vietnamese.]
Similar to Rokuro’s parents, Ngoc’s mother did not push her children to speak their home
language all the time, but simply expected them to “say what they can in Vietnamese,”
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speculating that “they don’t like Vietnamese.” Therefore, Thi did not insist on being
answererd in their home language (Zentella, 1997).
On February 11, 2008, I brought a comic book “Doraemon” translated in
Vietnamese. Doraemon was one of Ngoc and Thanh’s favorite anime to watch on their
computer, and often times I had trouble having Thanh turn off the computer during the
tutoring sessions. I was hoping that Thanh would show interest, and handed him the
comic book. Thanh asked with confusion,「え？英語？」“E? Eigo?” [Huh? (Is this)
English?] I told him it was not English, and asked what language it could be. Ngoc had
an answer for that question,「ベトナム語だよ。でも、読めませーん。日本生まれ
ですから」“Betonamugo da yo. Demo, yomemase---n. Nihon umare desu kara.” [It’s
Vietnamese. But we CAN’T read (polite). Because we were born in Japan (polite)]. Ngoc
suddenly changed her speech style to polite forms39, as if she was officially claiming the
right not to be able to read Vietnamese. Thanh put the book on the sofa and left the room.
Thi did not seem to be very observant on their reading and writing skills of her children’s
home language. When I asked her if they can read and write, her response was “probably
not,” as in the following response.
たぶんできない、できないです。***いまのほうですね、１年生のベトナ
ム本送ってくるけど、私の妹さんも教えるから。ベトナム語のほうはロー
マ字ですけどたぶん字が、ほうが、ほうが簡単と思うからね。A、Eとかね。
A、B、Cとかね。それは、日本語は漢字とひらがながいっぱいあるからち
ょっとね。でも、子供たちはほとんど日本語大好きと思うけどね。
Tabun dekinai, dekinai desu. *** ima no hō desu ne, ichinensei no Betonamu hon
okutte kuru kedo, watashi no imōto-san mo oshieru kara. Betonamugo no hō wa
rōmaji desu kedo tabun ji ga, hō ga, hō ga kantan to omou kara ne. A toka E toka
39
Japanese children are socialized into the different styles of politeness in the early years of their childhood
(Clancy, 1985). They start using polite forms regularly in junior high school in the interactions with the
teachers and 先輩 “sempai” [senior peers]. Multicultural children in this study appropriately used casual
forms with the tutors during the tutoring sessions. Therefore, here the use of polite forms signaled a special
meaning, as if Ngoc was reading out of a formal document.
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ne. A, B, C toka ne. Sore wa, Nihongo wa kanji to hiragana ga ippai aru kara
chotto ne. Demo, kodomotachi wa hotondo Nihongo daisuki to omou kedo ne.
[Probably not, they can’t. *** Now, first grade Vietnamese book is being sent,
because my sister teaches too. Vietnamese is in Roman letters, so I think letters
are easier-- A, E, and such. A, B, C, and such. That, Japanese has a lot of kanji
and hiragana so a little (difficult). But I think children practically love Japanese.]
For now, Thi seemed to be optimistic about her children eventually learning the writing
system of Vietnamese, but was more concerned about them learning hiragana and kanji,
which exceeded in number compared to Roman letters in Vietnamese, just like Calista
being concerned about Rokuro’s Japanese development. Calista and Thi believed that it
was necessary for their children to learn to function fluently in Japanese; the medium of
communication at school (Schecter & Bayley, 2002).
Unlike Taro or Rokuro, Ngoc was capable of holding a conversation in her home
language. During the tutoring sessions, she sometimes spoke in Vietnamese to her study
mates, and yelled at her younger brother in Vietnamese. However, she had fewer
opportunities to mediate between her parents and the tutors, simply because her parents
were always at work and rarely home to interact with the tutors. When she was asked to
convey the tutor’s message into Vietnamese for her relative, Cam who did not understand
Japanese, she refused, or could not do it. Until now, most of Ngoc’s interactions seemed
to be split into Japanese or Vietnamese monolingual ones. Since her parents were
functional in Japanese, it is suspected that she had not been trained to provide translation
help. However, she was gradually being socialized into more dynamic multilingual
interactions by being asked to play the role of a Vietnamese-Japanese translator.
Multicultural children in this study used their home languages to different degrees
at home. Regardless of his bitter experience in nursery school, Taro now actively spoke
Cambodian whenever the opportunity arose, and was eager to learn and maintain his
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language. Rokuro’s use of Spanish was minimal, and the language only came out of his
mouth as a one word utterance. Ngoc strategically navigated two languages in order to
participate in interactions in both Japanese and Vietnamese. As such, no matter how
limited their home language abilities were, children used their languages as resources to
position themselves as a language broker, or as a member of the language community. As
a matter of fact, their comprehension ability, which did not match with their production
ability, was good enough to be considered a member of the community (Zentella, 1997).
These opportunities to use their home languages in production or comprehension and to
participate in multilingual interactions depended upon the family members’ attitudes,
involvement, and their linguistic repertoire.
6.2 Family members
Family members’ language use at home and their Japanese language proficiency
had a great impact on multicultural children’s use of their home language. In particular,
the parents speaking their language was the major input for the children, since the
siblings usually talk to each other in Japanese. In addition, the parents’ Japanese language
proficiency impacted the children’s language use in a rather complex manner. Parents are
the role model of children, and as they navigated two languages children were socialized
into such multilingual practices at the same time. On the other hand, parents’ lack of the
Japanese language proficiency provided opportunities for the children to play a language
expert role during the tutoring sessions. In either case, parents’ high Japanese language
proficiency or their efforts to learn the language seemed to give a positive impact on their
children. Siblings were certainly an integral part of their interactions at home, and in
some cases, played an important role in the children’s language exposure.
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6.2.1 Parents speaking the home language at home and their Japanese proficiency
First, the children’s mother, and then the father’s linguistic repertoire will be
discussed. The parents’ language use at home and their Japanese language proficiency
had a great impact on children’s use of their home language.
Taro’s mother, Botum
Botum spoke to Taro in Cambodian most of the time. She commanded him in
Cambodian, to put away his toys, to get the phone, to call someone on the phone, to turn
down the TV volume, to go get her daughter upstairs, to ask something to her daughter,
and to shoo him off while studying Japanese. She also asked for assistance in Cambodian
while studying Japanese, to ask for a word in Japanese, and to explain a word so that he
could find the translation in Japanese. On March 27, 2008, she was telling me about the
two younger brothers who died during Pol Pot’s power. Botum used her minimum
Japanese grammar and vocabulary to try to explain how they died from malnutrition,「大
きい手．．．太ってじゃない．．．やせて．．．栄養がない」“Ōkii te…futotte
janai…yasete…eiyō ga nai.” [Big hands…not fat…skinny…no nutrition.] Now she
needed Taro’s assistance, and she explained the symptoms in Cambodian. However, Taro,
not surprisingly, did not seem to know the equivalent word in Japanese. I suggested「む
くみ？」“Mukumi?” [Swelling?], and Taro agreed excitedly,「そう！」“Sō!” [That’s
right!] I am still not certain if that word was what Botum was looking for. However, these
tutoring sessions proved to provide a significant amount of opportunities for Taro to be
exposed to the mother’s use of Cambodian, and then translating into Japanese.
In addition to speaking to her husband, her three daughters, and son-in-law,
Botum did not lack friends and neighbors to speak Cambodian to. She spoke to her good
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friend, Samnang, in Cambodian during our tutoring sessions. It was a rare occasion when
she did not receive any phone calls during the tutoring, and it was not unusual for her to
receive multiple calls during the one to two hour sessions. She always spoke Cambodian
on the phone. She had her own business renting and selling Cambodian DVDs and
international telephone cards. Therefore, there were constant visitors, or customers, with
whom she would speak Cambodian. Taro was usually sitting in the living room while
Botum was studying with me. Therefore, he was exposed to all of these occasions of
Botum and others speaking Cambodian. Taro certainly benefited from his mother staying
and working at home in terms of his Cambodian language input, compared to Rokuro or
Ngoc.
Even though Botum had lived in Japan for over ten years, she had not developed
her Japanese skills as much as she would like. She told me in the interview dated April 5,
2008,「日本語だけね、分からないから楽しくないの、どこに（行っても）」
“Nihongo dake ne, wakaranai kara tanoshikunai no, doko ni (ittemo).” [Because I don’t
know just Japanese, it’s no fun, wherever (I go).] When studying with Botum, I always
asked Taro if he wanted to read a book or study. Botum would say,「太郎はいいの」
“Taro wa ii no.” [Taro is fine.] She believed that she was the one who needed to study
Japanese, and not Taro. Taro understood that Japanese was difficult for his parents and
comments in the interview dated April 17, 2008,「ちょっと聞けるんだけどある、聞
けないときもある」“Chotto kikeru n da kedo, kikenai toki no aru.” [They can
understand a little, but there are also times when they can’t understand.] He often
corrected Botum’s pronunciation when she was studying Japanese with me. He even
helped Botum with verb conjugation when she mistakenly conjugated「急ぎます」
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“isogimasu” [to hurry (masu-form)] to「急ぎて」“isogite” [to hurry (incorrect te-form)],
he corrected to「急いで」“isoide” [to hurry (correct te-form)], listening into our metalinguistic practice of converting masu-form to te-form. Ryo completely understood her
difficulties of learning Japanese as follows.
日本の基本があまり分からないですので、話すときはですね xxx 難しい
のはカンボジア語と日本語違うの。カンボジア語で話すと、例えば名詞、
動詞とか並んでるんですね。日本語、逆ですよ。例えばカンボジア、日本
語は「私は学校行く」「私は学校行く」動詞は、一番最後ですね。カンボ
ジア語は、違うですよ。だから、逆になるところが一番難しいのかな。そ
れで動詞の変わり、例えば行く、行きます、行った。それはあまりわから
ないですよ xxx 話したいときにどうすれば、過去形とか現在形とか、あれ
はわからないの、一番何とか困ってるみたい。基本的の日本語基礎があま
り分からないですので何とかうまくできないんじゃないかな、自分でもわ
かってる。私も、そう思います。
Nihon no kiso ga amari wakaranai desu node, hanasu toki wa desu ne xxx
muzukashii no wa Kambojiago to Nihongo chigau no. Kambojiago de hanasu to,
tatoeba, meishi, dōshi toka naranderu n desu ne. Nihongo, gyaku desu yo.
Tatoeba, Kambojia, Nihongo wa “watashi wa gakkō iku” “watashi wa gakkō
iku” dōshi wa, ichiban saigo desu ne. Kambojiago wa, chigau desu yo. Dakara,
gyaku ni naru tokoro ga ichiban muzukashii no ka na. Sore de dōshi no owari,
tatoeba, iku, ikimasu, itta. Sore wa amari wakaranai desu yo xxx hanashitai toki
ni dō sureba, kakokei toka genzaikei toka, are wa wakaranai no, ichiban nantoka
komatteru mitai. Kihonteki no Nihongo kiso ga amari wakaranai desu node
nantoka umaku dekinai n ja nai ka na, jibun demo wakatteru. Watashi mo, sō
omoimasu.
[She doesn’t understand Japanese basics very well, so when speaking xxx what is
difficult is the difference between Cambodian and Japanese. When speaking in
Cambodian, for example, noun, verb, and such are lined up. Japanese is the
opposite. For example, Cambodian, in Japanese “I school go” “I school go” the
verb is at the end. Cambodian is different. So the fact that it is in the opposite
order is probably the most difficult. Also, verb conjugation, for example go, go
(polite), went. This she does not know very well xxx when she wants to talk, how
to make past, present, and such, she does not know, it seems to be the most
troublesome. Since she does not understand the fundamental basics of Japanese
very well, somehow she can’t do very well, she also knows. I also think so.]
Ryo’s observation was accurate, and Botum had difficulties remembering to conjugate
verbs into past tense when talking about past events.
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Now that Botum did not work, she had fewer opportunities to use Japanese
compared to when she was working. When asked whether she speaks Japanese daily, she
responded,「仕事だけ使う。買い物とかね。うちはぜんぜん、ぜんぜん使わな
い」“Shigoto dake tsukau. Kaimono toka ne. Uchi wa zenzen, zenzen tsukawanai.” [I use
(Japanese) only at work. And shopping and such. At home, I don’t use it at all, not at all.]
However, she had learned how to read and write hiragana, katakana, and a few kanji,
which helped her in studying Japanese, using textbooks written in the language.
Observing her enthusiasm to study Japanese regularly with the tutors and her challenges
to learn such a different language from hers, Taro nurtured great sympathy toward her
learning Japanese as a second language, and voluntarily helped her during the tutoring
sessions. In this manner, Taro exhibited considerable agency in the reciprocal and
dialectical processes of socialization (Bayley & Schecter, 2003; Garrett & BaquedanoLópez, 2002).
Taro’s father, Ryo
Ryo was quite fluent in Japanese, and he usually spoke Japanese to Taro when I
was around. On January 17, 2008, Botum wrapped up some spring rolls for me to take
home. I told her that I would have them with my parents at home. Taro was surprised to
hear this and said,「先生の？いるの？先生がお母さんかと思った」“Sensei no? Iru
no? Sensei ga okā-san ka to omotta.” [Yours? You have (parents)? I thought you were
the mother.] Ryo explained to him in Japanese,「まだ子ども、いない」“Mada
kodomo, inai.” [(She) doesn’t have children yet.] As such, he could comfortabley
converse in Japanese with Taro, unlike Botum. When asked whether he speaks
Cambodian to his children, his response was「そうです」“Sō desu.” [Yes.] However,
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he regretted in particular that his third daughter did not speak much Cambodian, and
worried that Taro would become the same way, as in the following comment about his
children.
カンボジア語もあまりできてもたぶんですねーー日本来たときに小さいで
すから、日本来たときに、４歳だったんですよ。それで、保育園行ってず
っと日本語だけをしゃべってるですので、それでカンボジア語嫌いみたい
ですよ。だから、なんかカンボジア語できなかった。それ、一番残念。そ
の経験があったですので、いま太郎のほうはできる限りもっともっとカン
ボジア語 xxx 教えて xxx なと。もし教えないと、またお姉さんと同じのこ
となっちゃうから、そのことも結構心配。
Kambojiago mo amari dekitemo tabun desu ne-- Nihon kita toki ni chīsai desu
kara, Nihon kita toki ni, yonsai datta n desu yo. Sore de, hoikuen itte zutto
Nihongo dake o shabetteru desu node, sore de Kambojiago kirai mitai desu yo.
Dakara, nanka Kambojiago dekinakatta. Sore, ichiban zannen. Sono keiken ga
atta desu node, ima Taro no hō wa dekiru kagiri motto motto Kambojiago xxx
oshiete xxx na to. Moshi oshienai to, mata onē-san to onaji no koto nacchau kara,
sono koto mo kekkō shimpai.
[Even if she can, probably not much Cambodian-- because when she came to
Japan, she was small, when she came to Japan, she was (only) four years old. So
she went to nursery school and spoke only Japanese all along, so she seems to
dislike Cambodian. So, somehow she could not learn Cambodian. That is most
sad. Because of this experience, now for Taro as much as possible xxx teach xxx
more and more Cambodian. If not taught, I am worried Taro will become like his
sister.]
It was unknown why Ryo’s third daughter lost Cambodian to the extent that he regretted
it. However, contrary to his understanding, this daughter did not dislike Cambodian, and
saw the benefit of speaking two languages, as will be introduced below.
Ryo naturally spoke Cambodian to his wife, Botum. When Ryo was home, he
occasionally sat in the living room and Botum asked questions to him in Cambodian. On
October 30, 2007, Botum and I were reading Taro’s children’s book in Japanese, since
she could not find the book we had started reading the week before. Books disappeared in
this living room quite often. Occasionally, Botum stopped reading and asked questions to
Ryo in Cambodian. He responded in Cambodian explaining the Japanese grammar, or
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translating the sentences. Eventually, he became a little frustrated and passed on the task
to me,「その文が分からないって」“Sono bun ga wakaranai tte.” [She doesn’t
understand that sentence.] This was perfectly appropriate, but perhaps Botum needed
direct translation to understand some sentences. As such, Ryo’s multiple linguistic
resources were tremendous, and often times he was available and capable of helping
Botum and even Taro studying Japanese. Ryo’s language proficiency was sufficient
enough to give Taro the head start in school if they desired (Schecter & Bayley, 2002).
Just like Botum, Ryo had plenty of his own family members to whom he could
speak Cambodian, as well as their neighbors. On February 1, 2008, Ryo and Botum
invited the volunteer tutors for dinner. Seven of us visited their home for a traditional
Cambodian meal. As the food started piling up on the table, family and neighbors started
to gather in the living room. Before I knew who came in when, there were a total of 17
people gathered around the table in several rows. Seven of them were their neighbor
friends, and the conversation soon turned into all Cambodian. Ryo said to us in the crowd,
「みんなカンボジア語だから、分からないでしょ？」“Minna Kambojiago dakara,
wakaranai de sho?” [Everyone’s speaking Cambodian, so perhaps you don’t
understand?] We were quite used to such environment, since it was not unusual for this
kind of Cambodian-only conversations to be held in this household without being
translated for us tutors. Therefore, the tutors comfortably positioned themselves in this
multilingual context, where the language sometimes shifted to Japanese.
Ryo started studying Japanese when he was in the refugee camp in Thailand,
where he studied for about three months. When he arrived in Japan, he learned Japanese
at the Refugee Support Center for a total of about six months. After leaving the Center,
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he took correspondence courses while working to earn a Japanese high school diploma in
five years. Therefore, he could read and write in Japanese, and had the highest Japanese
proficiency by far, among all the parents of my participants. He evaluated his literacy
skills as follows in the interview conducted on April 5, 2008.
大体分かってるですね xxx 読み書きのほうは結構忘れてるんです xxx 読む
のは大体分かってる。書きはちょっとね、あまり使ってない言葉だと結構
難しい。
Daitai wakatteru desu ne xxx yomi kaki no hō wa kekkō wasureteru n desu xxx
yomu no wa daitai wakatteru. Kaki wa chotto ne, amari tsukattenai kotoba da to
kekkō muzukashii.
I mostly understand. As for reading and writing, I have forgotten quite a bit xxx
reading, I mostly understand. Writing, a little (difficult) for words not frequently
used, it’s quite difficult.
Having a father who was functional in Japanese, Taro’s sisters did not have to play a
language brokering role growing up. Perhaps, Ryo did not encounter situations where he
needed translation help (Lotherington, 2003).
Taro’s parents were both educated in Cambodia, and they were both teachers
there. His father was particularly well educated and continued his education in Japan to
acquire a high level of proficiency in Japanese. As a result, he was capable of helping his
wife with her Japanese language learning, as well as engaging in Japanese literacy
practices with his son. In fact, all interview questions addressed in Japanese directly to
him were responded with fluent Japanese, as can be seen in the above excerpts. In
addition, he was capable of taking advantage of the resources provided to them by the
Refugee Assistance Headquarters, and played a leading role in the Cambodian
community. Contrary to Ryo’s Japanese proficiency, Taro’s mother did not communicate
in Japanese as fluently as she wished to. However, her diligent attitude toward learning
Japanese gained Taro’s sympathy, and he became a supportive and, at the same time, a
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strict mentor of his mother as a JSL learner. This was how Taro engaged in JSL learning
discourse where he could also use his Cambodian to help his mother learn Japanese.
Rokuro’s mother, Calista
Calista spoke to Rokuro in Spanish when scolding him (not to feed snacks to the
dog, not to play around with his pencil or phone) to command him (to pass the homework
to her, to wait for the hot tea to cool down, to tell me something, to stop playing games),
to respond to his request in Japanese (when he asked for tea), and to translate a word I
said in Japanese. On December 3, 2007, Rokuro and I were working on a kokugo test
which he got 55 points out of 100. I asked him to read the text about a rabbit postman and
mice again, and asked him all the questions orally. He was able to answer all the
questions correctly, even the ones he got incorrectly, except the word「襟巻き」
“erimaki” [scarf]. I asked him if he had one, and then he called Calista,「ママ、襟巻き
ある？」“Mama, erimaki aru?” [Mom, do (I) have a scarf?] Calista asked back,「『襟
巻き』って何？」“‘Erimaki’ tte nani?” [What is a ‘scarf’?] I showed the scarf I had,
and she translated the word in Spanish. This simple word to word translation seemed to
be a routine practice for Rokuro’s parents to teach Spanish to him, as his father’s example
will be introduced below.
I also observed Calista communicating in Spanish with Vasco, her husband, Yoko,
her daughter, a neighbor friend and her daughter. On November 10, 2007, a neighbor
friend and her daughter were waiting for the Peruvian chicken to roast on the grill. While
they waited, Calista and the mother chatted in Spanish. Rokuro eavesdropped on their
conversation, and translated what they were saying in Japanese for me even though I did
not ask for it. However, unlike Botum’s home, visitors to this household were rare
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occasions. Especially, since Calista started working night shifts to save up for a family
trip back to Peru next February, I started to encounter fewer outsiders in the home, to see
less of Calista, and hear less Spanish at home. Even if Calista was not actively creating a
Spanish environment for Rokuro at home, she did hope him to acquire it as in the
following response in an interview on April 5, 2008.
Calista: (In Spanish)
Yoko: (Translates Calista’s Spanish) 結局、六郎は日本語もスペイン語もち
ゃんと覚えてもらわないとだめだ。じゃないと親が、親とコミュニ
ケーションが取れないから。私たちがよう子、よう子や六郎君みた
いに日本語を覚えてはっきり話すことは、たぶんこっから何年かか
ってもないから。
Kekkyoku, Rokuro wa Nihongo mo Supeingo mo chanto oboete
morawanai to dame da. Ja nai to oya ga, oya to komyunikēshon ga torenai
kara. Watashitachi ga Yoko, Yoko ya Rokuro-kun mitai ni Nihongo o
oboete hakkiri hanasu koto wa, tabun kokkara nannen kakattemo nai kara.
[In the end, Rokuro must learn both Japanese and Spanish properly.
Otherwise, parents, he cannot communicate with his parents. We will
never learn and speak Japanese clearly like Yoko, Yoko or Rokuro,
probably no matter how many years we spend (in Japan).]
This is a rather common problem among multicultural families in Japan where the
parents and children are unable to communicate to each other. This is also believed to
lead to children’s identity crisis due to their communication problems, unable to respect
their parents, their parent’s home country, their language, and eventually their own self
identity (Nakajima, 1998).
Unlike Botum who spoke mainly their home language to her son, Calista
occasionally spoke Japanese to Rokuro to scold (「六郎君、だめ！」“Rokuro-kun,
dame!” [Rokuro, no!]) and to give commands (「先生と勉強して。宿題は？」“Sensei
to benkyō shite. Shukudai wa?” [Study with Teacher. (Where is your) Homework?]).
However, even though she had lived in Japan longer than Botum, she was unhappy with
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her Japanese, just like Botum, as in the following response when asked to evaluate her
own Japanese skills.
Calista: (In Spanish) まだまだ、まだまだです。(In Spanish)
(In Spanish) Madamada, madamada desu. (In Spanish)
(In Spanish) [Not good yet, not yet.] (Spanish)
Yoko: (Translates Calista’s Spanish) やっぱ、本当ならいまお母さんが自分
で言ってるように「まだまだだ」って言ってるんですけど、ほんと
ならもう私のことももっと相手に伝えたいし、ペルーがどんな国か
も教えたいし、私がどういう生活を送ってるのかとか、ほかの人と
もいっぱいコミュニケーション取りたいのに、それが取れないって
言って、悔しさを感じるときも自分にある。ほんとなら、いっぱい
話したいのに、それができない。
Yappa, hontō nara ima okā-san ga jibun de itteru yō ni “mada mada da”
tte itteru n desu kedo, honto nara mō watashi no koto mo motto aite ni
tsutaetai shi, Perū ga donna kuni ka mo oshietai shi, watashi ga dō iu
seikatsu o okutteru no ka toka, hoka no hito to mo ippai komyunikēshon
toritai noni, sore ga torenai tte itte, kuyashisa o kanjiru toki mo jibun ni
aru. Honto nara, ippai hanashitai noni, sore ga dekinai.
[Obviously, really as mother is saying herself now that “not good yet,” she
says that she truly wants to convey herself to others more, to teach what
kind of country Peru is, or what kind of life I live, to communicate a lot
with other people, but she can’t, and there are times when I myself feel
frustrated. Actually, I want to talk a lot, but I can’t.]
Calista’s response indicates that she has opportunities to talk about Peru in Japanese, but
she is not capable to do so. During one of my long interviews and conversations when
Yoko was not at home to translate for her, Calista expressed her frustration in Japanese as
follows.
Calista: 何て言うかな。日本語、難しいよ。先生、スペイン語がんばって
（（笑））*** スペイン語の話、いっぱい話せる。一日、いっぱい話せる
よ。日本語は、難しい。
Nan te iu ka na. Nihongo, muzukashii yo. Sensei, Supeingo gambatte ((warai))
*** Supeingo no hanashi, ippai hanaseru. Ichinichi, ippai hanaseru yo. Nihongo
wa, muzukashii.
[How do I say this. Japanese is difficult. Teacher, learn Spanish ((laugh)) *** In
Spanish, I can talk a lot. I can talk a lot, all day. Japanese is difficult.]
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As I had expressed my wish that I could speak Spanish, Calista and I would have
conversed much more if I could speak her language.
As with Botum, Calista had learned reading and writing hiragana, katakana, and
a few kanji. She was capable of, and made an effort to be engaged in Rokuro’s literacy
practices, and occasionally reprimanded his messy handwriting when she was present
during the tutoring sessions. One time when she said「だめ！」“Dame!” [No!] to his
slanted 「コ」“ko” [katakana], Rokuro rebelled back and said,「ママだって『コ』書
いたら．．．？」 “Mama datte, ‘ko’ kaitara…?” [Why don’t you write ‘ko (katakana)’
too…?]
Rokuro’s father, Vasco
When Calista, Rokuro’s mother was not around, Vasco took on the responsibility
to make sure Rokuro was on task. When he was not, he immediately scolded him in
Spanish. On March 8, 2008, Rokuro was playing around with Vasco’s lighter, and Vasco
quickly spotted his misbehavior and scolded him in Spanish from the kitchen. Rokuro
behaved fairly well for the rest of the tutoring session that day. Vasco had as much
opportunity to speak Spanish at home as Calista had. He spoke Spanish to Calista and
Yoko, their daughter at home. He also spoke a little Japanese to Rokuro, mainly to give
commands. On October 27, 2008 when the whole family was frantically working on the
chicken catering service, Vasco had told Rokuro who had a soccer game tomorrow,「明
日試合だから、今日はやく寝なさい」“Ashita shiai dakara, kyō hayaku nenasai.”
[Tomorrow is the game, so go to bed early.] He certainly had acquired how to give
simple commands in Japanese. This was the most complex sentence structure, using
“because” clause, I had heard from Vasco. He describes his use of Japanese to Rokuro as
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in the following response when asked about their language use. On April 12, 2008, Yoko
was not present to translate, and Vasco makes every effort to convey his message in short
fragmented sentences.
私の六郎くん、スペイン語ね。後、私の日本語***六郎くんのスペイン語
ちょっと分からない、私分かる日本語入れてある。日本語、スペイン語ね。
後、六郎くんスペイン語これ、日本語これ。***例えば、本、それ
「libro」。例えば、後、めがね、それ「lente」。後、六郎くん***後、六
郎君の話ある、日本語あってスペイン語入れてある。
Watashi no Rokuro-kun, Supeingo ne. Ato, watashi no Nihongo *** Rokuro-ku no
Supeingo chotto wakaranai, watashi wakaru Nihongo irete aru. Nihongo,
Supeingo ne. Ato, Rokuro-kun Supeingo kore, Nihongo kore. *** Tatoeba, hon,
sore “libro.” Tatoeba, ato, megane, sore “lente.” Ato, Rokuro-kun *** ato,
Rokuro-kun no hanashi aru, nihongo atte Supeingo irete aru.
[I (speak to) Rokuro (in) Spanish. And my Japanese *** Rokuro’s Spanish do not
understand a little, I understand and put Japanese. Japanese, Spanish. And Rokuro
Spanish this, Japanese this. *** For example, book, that “libro,” glasses, that
“lentes.” And Rokuro *** and, Rokuro talk, there is Japanese and put Spanish in.]
As such, Vasco taught Rokuro some Spanish words in a word to word translation practice,
like Calista did.
Even though Rokuro does not respond to Vasco’s Spanish in Spanish, at least in
front of me, Vasco is optimistic about him acquiring Spanish in the future as in the
following comment, comparing Rokuro to Yoko who refused to speak Spanish when she
was Rokuro’s age.
六郎くん、一番早い。よう子ちゃん小さいの、ほんといっぱい問題ある。
よう子ちゃん、一番問題ある。スペイン語いやだ、いやだ、いやだxxxス
ペイン語、閉めた。後、私たちペルー行きます。いつも奥さん、私、よう
子ちゃん小さい、五歳。スペイン語。後、よう子ちゃん日本語だけ。コミ
ュニケーションいない。後、いつも友達のスペイン語分かる。お願い、言
ってください。いつもxxxよう子ちゃんの手伝って。***たぶん六郎くん、
三ヶ月だけ、ペルー行きます。スペイン語、全部分かる。全部、早い。早
い。三ヶ月だけで、分かる。
Rokuro-kun, ichiban hayai. Yoko-chan chīsai no, honto ippai mondai aru. Yokochan, ichiban mondai aru. Supeingo iyada, iyada, iyada xxx Supeingo, shimeta.
Ato, watashitachi Perū ikimasu. Itsumo oku-san, watashi, Yoko-chan chīsai, gosai.
Supeingo. Ato, Yoko-chan Nihongo dake. Komyunikēshon inai. Ato, itsumo
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tomodachi no Supeingo wakaru. Onegai, itte kudasai. Itsumo xxx Yoko-chan no
tetsudatte. *** Tabun Rokuro-kun, sankagetsu dake Perū ikimasu. Supeingo,
zenbu wakaru. Zenbu, hayai. Hayai. Sankagetsu dake de, wakaru.
[Rokuro is the fastest. (When) Yoko is small, really has many problems. Yoko has
the most problems. Spanish no, no, no xxx She closed (herself from) Spanish.
And we go to Peru. Always wife, I, Yoko is small, five years old. Spanish. And
Yoko only Japanese. No communication. And always friend’s Spanish understand.
Please, please say. Always xxx help Yoko. *** Probably Rokuro go to Peru only
three months. Spanish, understand all. All, fast. Fast. Only in three months,
understand].
Vasco saw Yoko’s bilingual developmental process as not desirable for Rokuro, and
wished him to lead a different path.
Vasco’s Japanese grandfather who immigrated to Peru from Kagoshima
prefecture (Southern Japan) spoke a dialect, and Vasco never learned to speak Japanese
in Peru. Now he speaks Japanese at work, since he is the only one who speaks Spanish.
However, he could not read (even the simplest hiragana on karta cards as mentioned in
the previous chapter) or write, and he expressed some difficulties he faced at work when
reading a map plan as follows:
ちょっと、私ちょっと問題あるね。例えば、みんなの日本人日本語だけ。
後、仕事のあるね。図面？図面？図面？***それの見える。後、作ってあ
るね。ちょっと分からない「お願いします。教えてください」これ、いつ
も、それあるね。
Chotto, watashi chotto mondai aru ne. Tatoeba, minna no Nihonjin Nihongo dake.
Ato, shigoto no aru ne. Zumen? Zumen? Zumen? *** Sore no mieru. Ato, tsukutte
aru ne. Chotto wakaranai “Onegai shimasu. Oshiete kudasai” Kore, itsumo, sore
aru ne.
[A little, I have a little problem. For example, everyone (is) Japanese, Japanese
language only. And there’s work. Map plan? Map plan? Map plan? *** I see. And
make. I don’t understand a little “Please. Teach me” This always, it happens.]
It is easily imaginable that Vasco’s approachable and friendly nature helps him with his
lack of language proficiency in a Japanese only environment. However, Rokuro is not
very sympathetic to his father speaking Japanese, and makes a negative comment;「ねえ、
パパ、日本語へたくそだよ」“Nē, Papa, Nihongo hetakuso day o.” [Hey, Dad, your
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Japanese is terrible], as Vasco enthusiastically answers my interview questions in his own
words.
Unlike Taro’s parents, Rokuro’s parents’ Japanese proficiency seemed to be
reversed; his mother spoke slightly better than his father. This might seem rather
unexpected, since Calista did not have any Japanese ancestry, unlike Vasco. However,
being a Nikkeijin did not mean being fluent in Japanese, a common misconception people
in Japan might have. Vasco’s not having even the simplest Japanese literacy such as
reading hiragana, limited himself from engaging in literacy practices with Rokuro, and
failed to gain linguistic respect from Rokuro. To Rokuro’s ears, his father’s speaking
Japanese as a Second Language sounded clumsy. On the contrary, Calista had a better say
on Rokuro’s studying Japanese. As a matter of fact, she did study with another tutor on
different days, side-by-side with Rokuro. When she was around in the kitchen during my
tutoring sessions, Rokuro involved her in our conversations, and she played karta games
with us. For now, Rokuro’s parents kept close attention to his Japanese language
development, and left some room for his Spanish learning, focused on their son’s
assimilation into mainstream school society (Schecter & Bayley, 2002).
Ngoc’s Mother, Thi
Unlike Botum and Calista, Thi was rarely home when I visited to tutor Ngoc and
her friends. She worked until late every night, and according to Ngoc, Thi did not come
home until around 10:00 at night every day. On January 16, 2007, on a rare occasion
when Thi and Chinh, her husband was home, Ngoc announced as follows,「先生、今日
６時までね」“Sensei, kyō roku-ji made ne.” [Teacher, today is until 6:00, okay?] I had
arrived at 5:00, and that would give us only one hour of studying. Thuy, Ngoc’s study-
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mate, put on an unhappy face and said,「やだ！」“Yada!” [No!], now her mouth tightly
closed. Thi came in our room with Ngoc’s kokugo textbooks. However, Ngoc did not
take them since we usually did not use textbooks from school. Instead, she spoke to her in
Vietnamese about Thuy. Thi responded in Vietnamese, and after she left the room, Ngoc
made correction to her previous announcement,「じゃ、７時までね」“Ja, shichiji
made ne.” [Well then until 7:00, okay?] This was one of the rare occasions when Thi
tried to control the time and content of Ngoc’s tutoring session.
Even though Thi’s small apartment could not accommodate as many people as
Botum’s living room, Thi had more family members and neighbors to talk to in her home
language than Calista had. Thi spoke Vietnamese to her husband, Chinh, and her cousin,
Cam who was living with them. Two stairs down their apartment was Thi’s parents, who
did not speak any Japanese, and her second sister, and her brother. Ngoc’s friends and
family all lived in the same apartment complex. On February 11, 2008 Ngoc told me
about their Christmas party. She lively explained to me how the room where we studied
in was filled with adults playing games, in the other room were all the children, and the
rest were in the kitchen cooking. When Thi was home, it was not unusual to see other
visitors, and to hear them speaking in Vietnamese. Thi did believe it was important for
her children to maintain their heritage language as in the following response in the
interview, dated April 12, 2008.
子供たちのほうからね、自分の言葉ね、絶対忘れないほうがいいと思う。
***いつでもね、例えば母と一緒に食べるときにどうやってもね、がんば
ってベトナム語話してくださいとか、できればできるところまでにベトナ
ム語を話してくださいとか、日本、学校行ったら日本語いいけどうちの中
のほうね、できればまたベトナムへ遊んでおじいちゃんとおばあちゃんが
xxx 行くときね、ぜんぜん話せないから向こうのおじいちゃんとおばあち
ゃんがさびしいなっちゃうんですよ。***だんなさんのおじいちゃんとお
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ばあちゃん。***だんなさんの。いまは私のお母さんとお父さん、自分の
家族。
Kodomotachi no hō kara ne, jibun no kotoba ne, zettai wasurenai hō ga ii to
omou. *** Itsudemo ne, tatoeba haha to issho ni taberu toki ni dō yattemo ne,
gambatte Betonamugo hanashite kudasai toka, dekireba dekiru tokoro made ni
Betonamugo o hanashite kudasai toka, Nihon, gakkō ittara Nihongo ii kedo uchi
no naka no hō ne, dekireba mata Betonamu e asonde ojī-chan to obā-chan ga xxx
iku toki ne, zenzen hanasenai kara mukō no ojī-chan to obā-chan ga sabishii
nacchau n desu yo. *** Danna-san no ojī-chan to obā-chan. *** Danna-san no.
Ima wa watashi no okā-san to otō-san, jibun no kazoku.
[I think children should never forget their language. *** Always, for example,
when eating together with mother somehow, do your best and please speak
Vietnamese, or if possible as much as possible, please speak Vietnamese and such,
Japan, when they go to school Japanese is okay, but at home, if possible, also
when going to Vietnam to play xxx grandpa and grandma *** grandpa and
grandma over there cannot speak at all, so they become sad. *** My husband’s
grandpa and grandma. *** My husband’s. Now my father and my mother, my
family.]
Unlike Rokuro’s parents who want him to maintain Spanish for themselves, Thi’s hope
that her children would maintain Vietnamese was for generational communication. She
wished them to be able to communicate with their grandparents in Japan and in Vietnam.
Thi spoke Japanese to Ngoc and Thanh as well. On February 27, 2008, Thi was
home to open the door for me. She called Ngoc and spoke Japanese,「ゴック、日本語
のお勉強」“Ngoc, Nihon-go no o-benkyō.” [Ngoc, Japanese studying]. In the interview,
when asked what languages she spoke to her children, she responded “sometimes
Japanese” as follows.
子供のほうはですね、いまベトナム語の全部意味分かんないんで時々日本
語の話し。ベトナム語できればね、ベトナムも話したい。
Kodomo no hō wa desu ne, ima Betonamugo no, zenbu imi waiannai nde tokidoki
Nihongo no hanashi. Betonamugo dekireba ne, Betonamugo mo hanashitai.
[My children, now don’t understand all Vietnamese meanings so sometimes
Japanese talk. If possible Vietnamese, I want to speak Vietnamese too.]
Thi was capable of communicating with her children in Japanese, but wished to be able to
converse in Vietnamese too. As her children get older and become in need of more
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abstract advice in their lives, it would be harder for her to explain clearly in Japanese her
judgments and opinions (Nakajima, 1998).
Coming to Japan at the age of 12, Thi’s Japanese speaking skill was better than
Botum and Calista’s. However, since she did not attend school in Japan, she never fully
acquired reading and writing abilities in Japanese as in the following interview response
when asked about her literacy skills.
少し、ひらがな、カタカナは大丈夫けど、漢字のほうはちょっと．．．。
Sukoshi, hiragana, katakana wa daijōbu kedo, kanji no hō wa chotto…
[A little, hiragana, katakana are okay, but kanji is a little (difficult)...]
Having a mother who did not graduate junior high school and high school, let alone
college, Ngoc did not seem to aspire to pursue higher education, a rather delimited
“imagined communities” envisioned for her (Anderson, 1991; Kanno, 2008).
Ngoc’s father, Chinh
Like Thi, it was a rare occasion to see Chinh at home. On January 16th, 2008,
Chinh was home with Thi, Ngoc’s mother, and they were talking in the kitchen in
Vietnamese. I was tutoring Ngoc and Thuy in the other room, when Ngoc stretched and
banged the wall by mistake. Chinh spoke to Ngoc in Vietnamese, and she responded back
in Vietnamese. I was worried that he was mad at us making such noise, and asked Ngoc
what he had said. Ngoc explained calmly,「何してるのって」 “Nani shiteru no tte.”
[He said ‘what are you doing?’] Chinh had the same set of family and neighbors he
would talk to as Thi, and they were usually home together with a few visitors on those
rare occasions. Unfortunately, I never had an opportunity to interview Chinh. When I
asked him, he politely declined my request by saying that Thi would be better, because he
was too busy, working on weekends as well. Next time I saw him he said to me,「あの
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意見、お母さんが考えます」 “Ano iken okā-san ga kangaemasu.” [That opinion
(request), mother will think about it].
Unlike Taro and Rokuro’s mothers, Ngoc’s parents were not present at home on a
regular basis. In fact, they were not involved in her daughter’s tutoring sessions at all.
Ngoc’s mother, Thi had no idea what her daughter was studying during the sessions, and
unknowingly brought her school textbook, which we never used. This does not mean that
she did not care about her daughter’s Japanese language learning and her own for that
matter. It was Thi who first sought for help from the home tutors to pursue the dream of
going back to school, an opportunity she was never offered, and it was her who
introduced this tutoring activity to the Vietnamese community. However, she, and the
father Chinh, simply did not have the luxury of time, now that they were working long
hours every day. As a consequence, Ngoc usually had to be the time planner of her own
tutoring sessions, except the one time when Thi was home to tell her to end the tutoring at
6:00 pm, against the girls’ will. However, the lack of her parents being at home during
the weekdays did not hinder Ngoc from acquiring Vietnamese. The fact that her
grandparents who did not speak any Japanese lived two stories down from their
apartment room, and her frequent interactions with her strongly knit Vietnamese girls’
network seemed to help her maintain her home language.
Multicultural parents provided different quantity and quality of home language
exposure to their children, and their Japanese language ability impacted their children’s
attitudes in an intricate manner. Taro’s well-educated father and a full-time mother are
valuable resources for their son in terms of using both Japanese and Cambodian.
Watching his mother studying Japanese diligently, Taro engaged in teaching JSL
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practices, developing sympathy towards her learning. Rokuro, on the other hand, had
parents who were much more concerned about his Japanese language development, and
expected him magically to suddenly speak Spanish when they visit Peru in the near future.
However, Rokuro’s parents do not have a strong say on his Japanese studying, failing to
be a role model as a JSL learner. Ngoc’s parents’ lack of presence and involvement in her
life did not hinder her from engaging in her own Vietnamese communities, making her an
independent agent of her own learning. As such, the language environment created by the
parents and their family members was an important factor for multicultural children’s
multilingualism. Their siblings will be discussed next.
6.2.2 Siblings speaking the home language at home and their Japanese use
All multicultural children in this study had one or more siblings living with them
in their homes. Some of them were more than ten years older, and had different kinds of
relationships with those who are only one year apart, for instance. Their language use and
multilingualism certainly reflected their parents’ backgrounds, and therefore, had an
impact on the language use and ability of the participants of this study. In addition, birth
order as a potential influential variable for bilingualism (Noguchi, 2001) seemed to be
played out with these children as well. In other words, the first child tends to become
active bilingual, whereas the second child remains passive bilingual, and as the order
descends, not bilingual at all. Such factors and the importance of the language
environment created by siblings will be discussed below.
Taro’s three older sisters, Mealea, Tevy, and Reina
Since Taro’s oldest sister, Mealea, came to Japan when she was thirteen years old,
her stronger language was still Cambodian (from interview on April 5, 2008). After she
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got married to her husband who did not speak much Japanese, her Cambodian use at
home increased to「７対３」”Nana tai san” [70 percent (Cambodian) to 30 percent
(Japanese)]. She also spoke Cambodian to her parents and neighbor friends. However,
she and Taro mainly spoke Japanese. Even though she was fluent, she had a slight accent
in Japanese. With her Cambodian and Japanese language abilities, Mealea could certainly
play a language brokering role. When the coordinators from the Volunteer Home
Tutoring Program visited to ask the family and neighbors their intentions to continue
participation, she translated their questions, and the neighbors’ answers to them. Mealea
was also literate in both Cambodian and Japanese.
Taro’s second older sister Tevy worked as a beautician, and was rarely home
when I visited. I had met her a few times before I saw her again at the New Year’s Party
on April 20, 2008. I was asking Mealea where her second sister was, and she was
standing right next to her. On this celebratory event, they were dressed in traditional
Cambodian dress with beautiful make-up, and I did not recognize her. She invited me to
join the circle of dance, which had been going on ever since I had arrived to the party,
and taught me how to move my hands and body to the Cambodian music. Ryo, their
father evaluates her Cambodian as「問題ないですよ。カンボジア語、完璧話せる」
“Mondai nai desu yo. Kambojiago, kampeki hanaseru.” [No problem. Can Speak perfect
Cambodian], and her Japanese as「私よりうまい」“Watashi yori umai.” [Better than
mine]” (from interview on April 5, 2008). From the few encounters and conversations I
had with Tevy, I could not detect any foreign trace in her spoken Japanese.
Since Taro’s third older sister, Reina attended part-time high school in the
evenings, she usually left home to go to school as I arrived for the tutoring. As her oldest
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sister, Mealea evaluated her Cambodian as being forgotten. Ryo’s observation is the same
as follows:「三番目のは、あまりカンボジア語は太郎より下手ですよ」
“Sambanme no wa, amari Kambojiago wa Taro yori heta desu yo.” [Third (sister) is
Cambodian is not very, worse than Taro’s]. However, contrary to Ryo’s assumption that
「カンボジア語、嫌いみたい」“Kambojiago, kirai mitai.” [(She) seems to dislike
Cambodian], Reina used her language tactically to her Cambodian friends so that「日本
人がいっぱいいるところで、カンボジア語しゃべると分からない」“Nihonjin ga
ippai iru tokoro de, Kambojiago shaberu to wakaranai.” [at places where there are many
Japanese, if we speak Cambodian (people) will not understand]. For her, Cambodian was
something「すごい便利、すごいーーみんな、得してる感じがするんですよ。み
んな、ひとつしかしゃべれないじゃないですか。でも、自分ニヶ国語しゃべれ
る」
“Sugoi benri, sugoi-- minna, toku shiteru kanji ga suru n desu yo. Minna, hitotsu
shika shaberenai ja nai desu ka. Demo, jibun nikakokugo shabereru.” [really useful,
really-- everyone, (I) feel like benefiting. Everyone can speak only one. But I can speak
two languages]. However, she estimates her Cambodian use as「２対８」“Ni tai hachi.”
[20 percent (Cambodian), 80 percent (Japanese)], and admits her loss. When asked
“What will you do if you forget Cambodian?,” Reina responds,「私、結構危ないんで
すよ、いま。結構、いま混じっちゃってるんで、結構忘れちゃってるんですよ
ね」“Watashi, kekkō abunai n desu yo, ima. Kekkō ima majicchatteru n de, kekkō
wasurechatteru n desu yo ne.” [I am quite in danger, now. (They are) now pretty mixed,
so I have forgotten quite a bit].” Coming to Japan at the age of four, Reina never learned
to read and write in Cambodian, and Japanese was clearly her stronger language.
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Having three sisters who are more than ten years older than him, Taro was like a
first child, rather than a first son among four siblings. Therefore, the birth order effect did
not seem to clearly apply to these siblings, at least to Taro. The oldest sister, Mealea was
a balanced user of both Cambodian and Japanese, also bi-literate. The second older sister,
Tevy, was perhaps balanced in both use of Japanese and Cambodian, and the third older
sister, Reina, was dominant in Japanese but spoke Cambodian. Taro, the youngest, was
also dominant in Japanese, but according to his family members, he spoke Cambodian
better than Reina. This is a rather unusual circumstance, considering the fact that the
sisters spoke mostly in Japanese to Taro. However, as Taro feared loosing Cambodian
once he started elementary school, maintaining and developing his home language was a
challenging task, and needed to be tackled from different angles for language
maintenance to be effective (Zentella, 1997).
Rokuro’s older sister, Yoko
Even though Yoko is now the most balanced bilingual of all siblings in this study,
her childhood was clearly split into a Spanish speaking phase and a Japanese speaking
phase. She came to Japan at the age of two, and by the age of four she only spoke
Japanese. One day Vasco, the father came home from work, and unexpectedly found that
Calista, the mother, crying instead of the baby. She could not understand what Yoko was
saying in Japanese. They decided to take Yoko back to Peru, and after two years when
they came back to Japan, Yoko only spoke Spanish. One incident snapped her back into
speaking Japanese. One day, she got lost in a big department store, and she cried for
Calista「ママ、いない“Mama, inai.” [Mommy’s gone.] Before she knew it, she was
speaking Japanese, and ever since then both languages co-existed in her mind. Since her
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childhood, she was trained by her strict father, Vasco, to play a language brokering role at
city hall, hospital, etc. Vasco also had her read documents in Japanese to translate into
Spanish, and Spanish newspapers to translate into Japanese. Therefore, she was highly
literate in Spanish. Even though she spoke mainly Spanish to all family members
including Rokuro at home, her strong emotions toward her beloved dog, Pancho were
expressed in her now stronger language, Japanese.
Yoko was also more than ten years older than Rokuro. It is not difficult to
imagine that for families such as Taro’s and Rokuro’s, family planning gets interrupted
by separations and the timing of relocations. Even though Yoko is now navigating both
Japanese and Spanish successfully in her daily life, the path and experience she had to
endure was too painful to be repeated by Rokuro. Therefore, their parents chose to raise
Rokuro in a different manner: to focus on his Japanese language development which
seemed to lag behind his peers at school, and they believed that his Spanish will come
along naturally once he has the opportunity to visit Peru. His father, Vasco, does not
expect Rokuro to play a language mediator role, nor does he try to teach him to read and
translate newspapers in Spanish, like he did with Yoko. In this family, birth order seemed
to be playing a role in how each of them was raised. However, this was not because the
parents paid less attention to Rokuro, but because they learned from the first child’s
experience, and chose a different method of raising him multilingual. They understood
that each of them was different and follow a unique process of development. There is
“diversity in language practices and skills…sometimes within one family” (Schecter &
Bayley, 2002, p. xi).
Ngoc’s younger brother, Thanh
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There were a handful of people who would speak Vietnamese to Thanh; Ngoc, his
parents, his aunt and uncle, his grandparents, and neighbor friends. However, I could not
identify any occasions when he responded in Vietnamese. Instead, he usually responded
in Japanese. Even though he claims that he can speak Vietnamese, he could not read or
write the language, like Ngoc. It was certainly Thi, the mother’s, wish that he learn
Vietnamese. However, Thanh had more immediate and serious academic issues to worry
about. His first grade classroom teacher’s evaluation is harsh, but perhaps accurate.
According to her, ‘he recently received 0 points in an academic achievement test. He
does not have reading comprehension skills. He cannot write essays at all, unless the
teacher stays right next to him and ask questions. If the teacher leaves him, he completely
freezes and stops writing’. Among all the children in my study, Thanh seemed to need
help with his studying the most. However, he did not ask for help.
Somehow, birth order seemed to be playing a role in Ngoc and Thanh’s language
developmental difference. Even if they were only one year apart, Thanh did not seem to
be receiving the attention he deserved and needed, neither from his parents nor the tutors,
nor from Ngoc. Often times, he would sit in the corner of the apartment room and play
Poke-mon Game Boy all by himself, while the girls gathered to study with the tutor.
Ironically, his presence provided Ngoc with a unique opportunity for her to use
Vietnamese: to yell and scold at him when he did not listen to her. Another favorite thing
for Thanh to do was to watch anime on the computer located in the same room where
Ngoc used for studying, annoying her by refusing to turn off the anime on the computer
while she was studying in the same room. Thanh negotiated and fought back in Japanese.
However, having no means to win the battle (except his heavy weight by which he tried
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to ground himself deeply onto his seat), he was eventually pushed aside, stubbornly
refusing my invitation to study together.
Multicultural children’s siblings played a role in creating a certain language
environment in their homes. Taro’s much older sisters were all fluent in Japanese, and
spoke to him in Japanese when they were home. One of them, Mealea, was also
sometimes available to participate in Japanese literacy practices during the tutoring
sessions. Rokuro’s older sister, Yoko, also fluent in Japanese, made efforts to speak to
him in Spanish. However, she and the parents’ relaxed attitudes toward his Spanish
language development did not push him to respond back in Spanish. Ngoc’s younger
brother, Thanh, was a source of problem for her, and she used Vietnamese to strategically
position him as an inferior younger brother. As such, each child was exposed to different
kinds of language environments depending on their relationship with their siblings,
including the order of birth (Noguchi, 2001). The older sibling clearly had more leverage
to choose their means of communication, whereas, the younger ones depended more on
Japanese.
6.3 Conclusion
The extent to which multicultural children speak their home language in the safe
environment of their home and community depends on internal factors such as their
ability, as well as external factors such as their parents’ attitudes, parents’ Japanese
proficiency, and siblings’ language use. Taro had a desire to maintain Cambodian,
perhaps due to the family’s strongly knit tie to the Cambodian community and
participation in cultural activities. He also attempted to play a language brokering role by
translating the mother and the Japanese tutors’ messages to the extent of his ability.
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However, he and his father regretted that he has forgotten much of his Cambodian and
made every effort to maintain it. Based on the experience of Yoko’s suffering between
the two languages, Rokuro’s parents did not push him to use and acquire Spanish. As a
result, Rokuro spoke his home language much less than Taro, and showed less
enthusiasm toward it. Ngoc was similar to Taro, having grown up in a tightly knit
community of Vietnamese. She maintained her home language speaking ability, and used
it mostly out of necessity: to communicate with her family members who did not speak
Japanese fluently, and to reprimand her younger brother for his misbehavior. She
occasionally played the language brokering role by conveying messages between her
family members and the Japanese tutor, rather reluctantly.
In sum, multicultural children in this study had opportunities to speak their home
languages to different degrees due to the diversity in discursive language practices, such
as language brokering (Lotherington, 2003), and skills of the family members (Schecter
& Bayley, 2002, Zentella, 1997), including the influence of their siblings (Noguchi,
2001). Even if their abilities limited them from fully engaging in such circumstances,
their interactions showed successful language use, which can be defined as language use
in a meaningful manner for the participants in its specific context. For the children in this
study, socialization into multilingual settings occurred in the home contexts, where
children practiced their positioning as a student, as a mentor, as a translator, as a
“bilingual,” and constructed their multicultural identities. As soon as the children step a
foot outside their doors, just like crossing national borders, they step into a different kind
of society. Next, I move on to analyze multicultural children’s language use at school in
Chapter Seven.
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CHAPTER SEVEN
MULTICULTURAL CHILDREN AT SCHOOL
In this chapter, I introduce children’s language use at school and teachers’
language attitudes and ideologies. There are two main settings that are of interest in
analyzing children’s language use and proficiency, namely regular class and kokusai class.
The regular class is the classroom each student is assigned to, and they spend most of the
day with classmates from that class. 国際教室 Kokusai class, literally translated as
“International class,” is equivalent to a pull-out Japanese as a Second Language (JSL)
class. Foreign descent students are pulled out of their regular class one to three periods a
week to receive assistance in studying Japanese, math, or any other subjects they need
help. Even though children rarely speak their home language at school, neither in their
regular classroom nor kokusai classroom, in my observations they behave differently in
those two spaces. Lastly, children’s language use is explained through the teachers’
attitudes and ideologies which are built into discursive practices as various forms of
discourse (Fairclough, 1992). The impact of these attitudes and ideologies on teaching
policies (Ricento, 2000) and teaching practices (Ramanathan, 2005; Timm, 2005) will be
examined.
7.1 Introduction of schools
Elementary schools in Japan consist of six years of compulsory education, and the
school year starts in April in the spring. The student population of the children’s schools
ranges from 499 to 800. Each school consists of 19 to approximately 25 classes. In the
three elementary schools my focal participants attended, the population size of foreign
descent students ranged from as small as 1 percent (Rokuro’s school) to as large as 16
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percent (Taro’s school). Depending on the size of the foreign descent population, each
school and district had a different amount and type of assistance for those students. In the
children’s school districts, if a school had five or more foreign descent students, kokusai
class was offered and a Japanese language assistance teacher was provided. However, the
teachers were not necessarily experts on teaching languages but simply classroom
teachers rotating to be assigned to teach for a few years. Students were pulled out from
their regular class one to three times a week according to each student and teacher’s
schedule. Some schools have one-on-one tutoring, whereas others have a small group of
two to three students in one period class. In this class, activities varied from studying
kokugo and math to playing games when they did not have any particular assignments
from their regular class.
7.1.1 Demographics of students of foreign descent and school landscape
In this section, I introduce three public elementary schools children attended with
different population of students of foreign descent, therefore, with different level of
multiculturalism displayed.
Taro’s school, Yamamoto Public Elementary School
Taro’s school was located in Hayashi city where the population of foreign
residents was 4,906, 1.89 percent of the total city population of 260,260 (2007).
Comparing this ratio to the national percentage of foreign residents, 1.69, it is a slightly
larger number. However, his school had a much higher percentage of foreign students, 16
percent of total student population. The total student population is 499 students, out of
which approximately 80 are of foreign descent. In his class, out of 31 students, there were
four students of foreign descent; one Brazilian, one Laotian, and two students of
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Cambodian descent, including Taro. The other Cambodian descent student was Taro’s
female friend, Aimi who lived in his neighborhood. She had a Japanese father and a
Cambodian mother, and according to Taro, Aimi speaks Cambodian. However, they were
not observed to speak Cambodian to each other at school. Taro knew when and when not
to speak Cambodian.「（愛美とはカンボジア語で）話す。***だって日本人カンボ
ジア語分かんないもん」“(Aimi to wa Kambojiago de) Hanasu. *** Datte Nihonjin
Kambojiago wakannai mon.” [(With Aimi, Cambodian) I speak. *** Cus, Japanese don’t
understand Cambodian.] Taro’s family used to live in the Yamamoto apartment complex
owned by the prefecture, a few blocks away from where his family bought a house. The
Yamamoto apartment complex has a large proportion of foreign residents, and has
attracted much public attention from researchers like myself.40 Taro’s house and the
apartment complex are approximately 20 minutes walk from the school, which
contributed to the high composition of foreign students in the school. In fact, there were
five elementary schools and two junior high schools with kokusai classes in Hayashi city.
Taro’s school shows its multi-nationality at the entrance of its school. There are a
number of national flags displayed on the walls of the entrance. The countries include
Japan, the Philippines, China, Peru, Bolivia, Brazil, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam.
Under the flag41 is written ‘Hello’ in each language with katakana readings beside them
(Figure 7-1).
40
From personal communication with Professor Murakami dated October 16, 2008. The reason for this
attention is unknown. My interpretation was that researcher like myself was starting to pay attention to such
concentrated community of foreign residents.
41
It was commented that the presence of these flags implies that the children are temporary sojourners, and
not immigrants. It is doubtful that a US school would fly flags from different countries in this manner,
because of the emphasis on immigration, which implies the abandonment of previous political loyalties.
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Figure 7-1: Display of Flags
The last frame reads “Everyone is a friend: There are children from nine countries
studying at Yamamoto elementary school,” and has a picture of a globe surrounded by
children dressed in their national costumes (Figure 7-2).
Figure 7-2: Globe Surrounded by Children
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Teaching kokusai class in the previous year, Ms. Usui, Taro’s classroom teacher who was
showing me around the school mentioned that one of the mothers requested the former
South Vietnamese flag to be displayed as well. The school followed her request and flew
a South Vietnamese flag at their next event. Remembering that Ngoc’s father was from
what was formerly North Vietnam, and her mother from the South, I wondered how they
would think about this flag issue42. Ms. Usui added that they always display all national
flags on school wide events.
The rest of the school had no signs of such a high ratio of foreign descent students,
except around the kokusai classroom at the end of the hallway on the second floor. There
were two kokusai classrooms, numbered 1 and 2. Kokusai classroom 1 was used more
often than 2, since the second classroom had smaller windows for earthquake resistance
and it was very dark. The door to the classroom 2 was locked. Around the classroom 1
door, there were nine national flags with “Thank you” written in each language, again
with katakana readings beside them. Here, I noticed that the Vietnamese flag was a
Southern one, instead of the one in the entrance hall (Figure 7-3).
Figure 7-3: “Thank you” in Different Languages
42
During the Vietnam War (1959-1975), North Vietnam fought the United States for control over South
Vietnam. At the end of the war, the North Vietnamese state defeated South Vietnam. The two states, with
two different flags, were merged in 1976 as a Social Republic of Vietnam. It was commented that the fact
Ngoc’s father had left Vietnam implies that he was not sympathetic to the Communist government based in
Hanoi, and it is doubtful that he had any attachment to their flag.
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On the hallway walls, there were photos of events planned for foreign students and
families. On one side were photos from 各国週間 kakkoku shūkan [international week]
when students grouped together to learn their home languages. One of the photos showed
karuta cards with numbers in their languages. On the other side of the wall were photos
from 国際料理週間 kokusai ryōri shūkan [international cooking week], when the
mothers gathered to cook their heritage food, such as Laotian and Cambodian. A
Cambodian teacher (Ms. Higaki, who will be introduced later) was in the picture too. The
Japanese teachers made お好み焼き okonomiyaki [meat/seafood and vegetable pancakes].
However, none of the Japanese students nor families were involved in these two cultural
events. This kind of deliberate “internationalization” collects criticism (Takahashi &
Vaipae 1996, cited in Morita 2002), and will be discussed in Chapter Nine.
Inside the kokusai classroom 2 were desks and chairs for the students, many
books and teaching materials, and nicely decorated walls. The walls were again filled
with pictures of students and teachers. The photos of each student standing in front of
their national flag will be given to them when they graduate. Again, the Vietnamese
students were photographed in front of the Southern Vietnamese flag. Ms. Usui
questioned the appropriateness of using that flag, wondering if some parents would have
preferred the official Vietnamese flag. She questioned the use of flags all together, and
was thinking about replacing it with a world map. The photos of kokusai class teachers
were displayed on the other wall. Including the Cambodian teacher, there was a photo of
a Spanish teacher who was a graduate from this elementary school and had been in
kokusai class herself. The kokusai class had been in place for over ten years, and the
school had accumulated an abundance of books and teaching materials, including
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Japanese language books and sugoroku [Japanese backgammon] game boards to learn
hiragana. Taro’s kokusai classroom is comparable to the JSL classroom described by
Kanno (2008): a list of hiragana and katakana, a large map of South America, and
bilingual lists of basic greetings in Portuguese and Spanish. The only difference is that
the greetings at Taro’s school were written in the students’ home language, whereas in
one of the school studied by Kanno (2008), they were written in katakana script,
“suggesting that these signs are meant for Japanese teachers, students, and visitors like
myself, rather than for JSL students” (p. 169). The level of multiculturalism displayed at
Taro’s school was one step above the one described by Kanno (2008).
Rokuro’s school, Ito Public Elementary School
Rokuro’s school is located in Ito city, where there are 1,532 foreign residents,
1.52 percent of total city population of 100,733, a smaller ratio than the city Taro’s
school is located in, and smaller than the national ratio. Rokuro’s school population of
800 students is bigger than Taro’s school’s. However, the ratio of foreign descent
students is much smaller, approximately 1.75 percent, a ratio still larger than the city and
national number. At the beginning of the school year, there were 14 foreign descent
students in school, and half of them were in grade 1. Out of the seven first graders, more
than half, four, were in Rokuro’s class, and their countries of origin were Bangladesh, the
Dominican Republic, Peru, and the Philippines. However, by the second semester in
October the Dominican boy had transferred out, and close to the end of the school year in
February the Bangladeshi student transferred out as well. This is a common phenomenon
among foreign descent students, and it does not come as a surprise to the teachers and
students. Rokuro lived in a small apartment complex approximately 20 minutes walk to
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school, and there was no inexpensive prefecture-owned apartment complex, like the one
Taro’s family used to live in, and the one Ngoc’s family now lived in, and the city did not
have a large population of foreign residents.
Having only two percent foreign descent students, Rokuro’s school showed no
signs of being a multicultural community. There were no flags or languages displayed in
the hallways. The teacher’s awareness of multiculturalism did not seem to be as high as
Taro’s teacher’s. Even if Rokuro’s classroom teacher, Ms. Ochi, was assigned to teach
the most diverse class of all first grade classes, she did not know the school’s foreign
descent student population. As a matter of fact, Rokuro’s school did not have a kokusai
class even if there were more than five foreign descent students in his school. The school
principal mentions short term stay as a reason for not being able to offer a kokusai class.
The 14 students they had were not all long term residents like Rokuro. Instead, the school
had a Japanese language instructor who worked in several different schools in the district.
The Japanese instructor would come in a few times a week, but did not have a specific
classroom in which to work in. In the interview on March 28, 2008, Rokuro’s Japanese
teacher Ms. Abe comments on how inconveniently the classroom was located from
Rokuro’s classroom.
私がいる教室と彼の教室は、いちばん遠い所にあるので、１年生が来るの
は、とっても時間的にーーうん、遅くなりそう。
Watashi ga iru kyōshitsu to kare no kyōshitsu wa, ichiban tōi tokoro ni aru node,
ichinensei ga kuru no wa, tottemo jikanteki ni-- un, tōkunarisō.
[The classroom I am in and his classroom, is at the farthest place, so (it takes a lot
of) time for first graders to come-- yeah, (they) tend to be late.]
As the location where Ms. Abe taught indicates, JSL instruction was a rather
marginalized practice at Rokuro’s school. Sometimes Ms. Abe had to change the
classroom at the last minute due to other schedule changes as in the following response.
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当該児童の担任は、児童会室で日本語教室をやっていることを知っていま
すが、一般の教員は知らない・・というか・・・忘れちゃうので、臨時で
図工などの作業的な授業の場所として使ったり、お楽しみ会の会場にしち
ゃったり・・・かち合うこともしばしば。そのたびに、私と子どもは図書
室へ移動したり、あっちこっちと場所探ししました。
Tōgai jidō no tantō wa, jidōkaishitsu de nihongo kyōshitsu o yatteiru koto o shitte
imasu ga, ippan no kyōin wa shiranai…to iu ka…wasurechau node, rinji de zukō
nado no sagyōteki na jugyō no basho to shite tsukattari, otanshimikai no kaijō ni
shichattari…kachiau koto mo shibashiba. Sono tabi ni, watashi to kodomo wa
toshokan e idō shitari, acchi kocchi to basho sagashi shimashita.
[Homeroom teachers of the children know that the Japanese language class takes
place in the Children’ Assembly room, but other teachers do not
know…or…forget, so sometimes they use the room for art class when conducting
manual activities, or for parties…such conflict happened occasionally. In such
occasions, I and the children moved to the library, or searched for a place here
and there.]
As such, Ms. Abe’s legitimate activity did not have a legitimate classroom, and she often
had to give up her space and time to look for an alternative location so that such trivial
events like a party could take place in the room. Similarly to what Ōta (2000) reports in
his study, there were the secretive or shameful connotations associated with JSL
instruction in his study and other teachers at Rokuro’s school did not know (or forgot)
about the class. The school’s lack of support was reflected in the unreliable location of
the classroom. This situation was worse than one of the schools observed by Kanno
(2008), where she felt going into the bilingual JSL classroom in another wing, through a
hallway, was “as if one were stepping out of the regular part of the school” (p. 147). No
photographs were taken at Rokuro’s school because there was no multiculturalism
displayed.
Ngoc’s school, Saito Public Elementary School
Ngoc’s school is located in Higa city where Kanagawa Junior College is located.
The city population of 169,067 includes 3,576 foreign residents, 2.12 percent of the total
city population. This ratio is the largest among the three cities where the schools are
217
located, and larger than the national ratio. Her school population is 746, out of which 33
were of foreign descent, 4.42 percent of the total school population, less than Taro’s
school, but more than Rokuro’s school. Out of the 33 foreign descent students, 22 were
enrolled in kokusai class, one student transferring out at the end of February. Out of the
original 22 students, 11 were of Vietnamese descent, 6 of Laotian, 3 Peruvian, 1 Brazilian,
and 1 Chinese. Vietnamese descent students comprise 50 percent of the total kokusai
class students. Accorrding to Ngoc,「ベトナム人***多いけど、国際入ってない人が
たくさんいるんだもん。」“Betonamujin *** ōi kedo, kokusai haitte nai hito ga
takusan irun da mon. [Vietnamese *** there are a lot, but there many people who are not
in kokusai (class).] The school was located near the Ito apartment complex owned by the
prefecture where many Vietnamese families, including Ngoc’s, lived, hence the large
population of Vietnamese students in this school. In Higa city, there were six public
elementary schools with kokusai class, and two junior high schools.
At Ngoc’s school, signs of multiculturalism were contained in and around kokusai
classroom, which was on the third floor at the end of the corridor. On the walls of the
hallway, there were words displayed such as ‘Hello’ and ‘Thank you’ written in the
students’ home languages, Chinese, Laotian, Spanish, and Vietnamese in katakana
pronunciations. Photos and posters introduced their countries’ flags, cultures, and school
systems (Figure 7-4).
Figure 7-4: Students’ Languages and Cultures
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Inside the classroom was a poster introducing the word “Thank you” in Chinese,
Vietnamese, Laotian, Cambodian, Spanish, and Portuguese both in the writing of those
languages and katakana readings (Figure 7-5).
Figure 7-5: Students’ Multiple Languages
A world map indicated students’ country of origin with arrows on Peru, China, Laos,
Cambodia, Vietnam, and Japan. Next to the map was a picture of twelve animal signs of
the Vietnamese zodiac year (Figure 7-6).
Figure 7-6: World Map and Vietanamese Zodiac Year
219
A wooden pole displayed various national flags, including India, Sweden, Vietnam,
Finland, Bangladesh, Panama, Holland, Chile, and Indonesia (Figure 7-7).
Figure 7-7: National Flags
More displays on the wall showed national flags with the origins of the design. The
Vietnamese flag read “A country which was split between North and South was united in
1976. The red represents the blood shed in the revolution, and the yellow star, unification
of all people including workers, farmers, and so forth.”43 (Figure 7-8)
Figure 7-8: National Flags with Their Origins
43
It was pointed out that this appears to support the communist point of view, which would conflict with
the politics of most Vietnamese in Japan. If the students’ parents could read it, they would find it offensive.
220
Paintings of villages, people, and monuments in Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia
emphasize the nature and simplicity of developing countries (Figure 7-9).
Figure 7-9: Paintings of Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia
Folders contain school information on health, attendance, consultation, home visits,
emergency, sports event, lunch, expense, etc., translated into Vietnamese, Cambodian,
Spanish, Portuguese, and Laotian. The folders included a booklet titled「外国人児童・
生徒の支援のために」‘Gaikokujin jidō/ seito no shien no tame ni” [For Foreign
Children / Students’ Assistance] compiled by Higa City Institute for Educational
Rresearch in 2003, translated into Vietnamese, Spanish, Portuguese, Laotian, and
Cambodian (Figure 7-10).
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Figure 7-10: Booklet Translated into Vietnamese
The booklet included such school information as kokusai class, registration procedures,
and attendance. Such abundance of materials and displays were not achieved in a day,
and Ngoc’s school had the longest history of having a kokusai class among schools in
Higa city. Ngoc’s kokusai classroom was similar to Taro’s school’s or Kanno’s (2008)
description of the JSL classroom in her study, displaying flags, maps, and greetings in
students’ languages. The only difference was the abundant information of booklets
translated into students’ languages. Below is a summary of three schools’
multiculturalism on the surface.
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Table 7-1: Summary of School Information
Participant/
School
Names.
Student
pop.
Foreign Particip. Class
students Grade
size
(%)
(Foreign
students)
App. 80 1
31
(16%)
(4)
Taro/
Yamamoto
499
Rokuro/
Ito
800
14
1
(1.75%)
33
(4)
Ngoc/
Saito
746
33
2
(4.42%)
33
(2)
Kokusai
Class
Multicultural
display
Yes, but
Taro not
attending
No, but
teacher
comes in
Yes
Yes
No
Yes, around
kokusai
class
7.1.3 Kokusai class teachers and regular class teachers
Kokusai class teachers’ and JSL teacher’s background and teaching experience
differed widely person by person. First of all, there are two kinds of kokusai class
teachers: one is a Japanese teacher who gives monolingual instructions, and the other is a
bilingual teacher who can give instructions in students’ home languages. If a school did
not have many students of foreign descent, as Rokuro’s school, a part-time JSL teacher
was sent weekly from the district. In contrast, kokusai class teachers at Ngoc’s school
were full-time employee at the school district, and were considered to be on equal basis
with all the other regular class teachers. In fact, a regular class teacher were rotated and
assigned to teach kokusai class, as was the case of Taro’s classroom teacher who taught
kokusai class in the previous year.
Taro’s teachers: Cambodian teacher, Ms. Hidaka and regular class teacher, Ms.
Usui
The Cambodian teacher, Ms.Hidaka visited Taro’s class when I was observing. I
met with this Cambodian teacher, in her thirties, later at a restaurant to learn her life
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history and educational background. She was a war refugee herself who fled from
Cambodia in 1980 when she was ten years old. She was in the first group of Cambodian
refugees admitted to the Yamato refugee center in Kanagawa prefecture which was
opened that year in February. She had lost her parents in the war, and when I asked her
how many siblings she had, she responded, ‘about two’. I could not decipher this
response until she told me that she had separated from her younger sister in the turmoil of
the war. Now she was happily married to a Cambodian man with four adopted
Cambodian children, two boys in their twenties, and two teenage girls. She had adopted
them from her acquaintance who lacked the financial resources to raise them. Now she
was a naturalized Japanese citizen, and according to her, her Japanese was stronger than
her Cambodian. In Cambodia, she did not go to school because of the war, and had never
learned to read and write in Cambodian. Therefore, when she came to Japan, she went to
school for the first time in her life. She was placed in a grade two years younger, and into
a special education class. There was no kokusai class for students like her back then. Not
surprisingly, she did not have a fond memory of her childhood and school experience.
Now she was back in the school scene, helping children of the parents who went through
the same hardships as she did almost three decades ago. She had been teaching kokusai
class for a while, and since last year she had started teaching at Taro’s school and
Yamamoto junior high school, once a week for two hours at each school. However, she
wished the district budget allowed her to teach these children more intensively as in the
following interview response on April 21, 2008.
学校でも、今、週に１回しか行ってないんですけど、それじゃ全然ほんと
にサポートできない状態なので、時間的にこうなんだろう。集中してね、
教えてあげられたりすると、ほんとはいいんですけど。短期間でもいいか
ら集中型がいいんですけど、今は、逆に今は、林市だと山本に団地がある
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おかげもあるんでしょうけど、ちょっと充実してるんですよね。それでも
外国人が多いので、週に１回ぐらいしか予算が組めなくなってます。
Gakkō demo, ima, shū ni ikkai shika ittenai n desu kedo, sore ja zenzen honto ni
sapōto dekinai jōtai na node, jikanteki ni kō na n darō. Shūchū shite ne, oshiete
ageraretaru siru to, honto wa iin desu kedo. Tankikan demo ii kara shūchūgata ga
iin desu kedo, ima wa, gyaku ni ima wa, Hayashi-shi da to Yamamoto ni danchi
ga aru okage mo arun de shō kedo, chotto jūjitsu shiterun desu yo ne. Sore demo
gaikokujin ga ōi node, shū ni ikkai gurai shika yosan ga kumenakunattemasu.
[At school, now, I only go once a week, and that situation cannot support (what’s
needed) at all, in terms of time. If I can teach intensively, it is better. Even if for a
short period of time intensive is better, but now, on the contrary, now, with the
Yamamoto housing complex in Hayashi city, (the support) is quite substantial. But
there are many foreigners, so the budget only allows once a week.]
Ms. Hidaka had another part time job in her neighborhood to make ends meet.
Taro’s regular classroom teacher, Ms. Usui had over 16 years of teaching
experience at public elementary schools. She had been teaching at Yamamoto school for
five years, and last year she taught kokusai class. In her long teaching experience, it was
her third time to teach first graders. She was a gentle and fair teacher who treated all
students on equal basis, as in the following interview response when asked about the
benefits of having students of foreign descent in her class.
この学校の子たちって外国籍の子はあんまり自分が外国籍であるっていう
ことを隠したりとか、それからなにかそのことに対してマイナスにってい
うことはあんまり思ってないみたいなんですね。
Kono gakkō no kotachi tte gaikokuseki no ko wa ammari jibun ga gaikokuseki de
aru tte iu koto o kakushitari toka, sore kara nani ka sono koto ni taishite mainasu
ni tte iu koto wa ammari omottenai mitai na n desu ne.
[Children in this school, the foreign nationality children do not seem to try to hide
that they are of foreign nationality very much, nor think anything negatively about
(being foreign).]
Ms. Usui created a comfortable atmosphere in her class for her students to participate
actively, including Taro.
Taro’s school had a kokusai class where there were both Japanese teachers who
gave monolingual instructions and teachers who spoke the students’ home languages.
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This is a similar case to one of the schools in Kanno’s (2008) study where the JSL class
had a lead teacher and a bilingual aide. Taro’s regular class teachers rotated to be in
charge of kokusai class, as in one of the schools in Kanno’s (2008) study.
Rokuro’s teachers: Ms. Abe, kokusai class teacher and Ms. Ochi, regular class
teacher
Rokuro’s kokusai class teacher, Ms. Abe in her forties was an exceptional woman
and has had various responsibilities at any point of her lifetime. After finishing her
college degree, she worked at a company and was assigned to the Beijing office in China.
While learning Chinese, she taught Japanese to the Chinese staff in the company. It was
not until she came back to Japan and got married that she started to teach in educational
settings in 1999. Initially, while raising her children, she taught exchange students and
students preparing for entrance examinations. In 2000, she started to teach at elementary
and junior high schools while she managed to obtain her master’s degree in Japanese
language teaching. At the time of the research, she was involved with seven elementary,
junior and senior high schools teaching Japanese or working on various projects,
including Rokuro’ school. Next year, that number would increase to nine schools. Besides
teaching Japanese, one of her projects was to deliver ‘international understanding
education’ to schools and districts. She gave demonstrations and lectures to students and
district administrators to raise awareness of multiculturalism. She did not fail to receive
media attention for her projects, and her activities were reported in local newspapers. She
had given conference presentation on her experiences as well.
Lastly but certainly not the least, Ms. Abe’s biggest current project was to gather
materials for a journalist who was preparing a book on life history of a Vietnamese
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immigrant family who were separated in Japan because of legal issues. She and the
journalist traveled through the footsteps of the family from Vietnam, two refugee camps
in Hong Kong, the sea of Macao where the family fell in and sank into the sea, and the
hospital where they were rescued. She had met the Vietnamese girl and the family
through teaching Japanese, when she found out that the girl was taken away from the
mother and was kept in a foster home of a Japanese family. When she found out that her
Vietnamese name was stripped away from her, and she had to take on a Japanese name,
Ms. Abe took action to help her regain her identity and to reunite the family. Based on
this experience, she published a picture book in 2008. Now the family lived happily in
Melbourne, Australia, and Ms. Abe traveled back and forth with the journalist. She
aspired to live close to the family in Australia for a few years to collect data for the
journalist to complete the book. Knowing all of her projects, teaching Rokuro once a
week for one hour seemed like just a tip of an iceberg. Having to prioritize her
assignments (and having budgetary restrictions), she admitted that his assistance might
not continue next year, commenting on another students’ progress as follows.
まあもちろんね、日本語教育という観点から行けば、もちろん教えたいこ
とは山々ですけど、緊急性の高い子どもからっていうことになったら、も
う真っ先にはずさなければいけない。
Mā mochiron ne, nihongo kyōiku to iu kanten kara ikeba, mochiron oshietai koto
wa yamayama desu kedo, kinkyūsei no takai kodomo kara tte iu koto ni nattara,
mō massaki ni hazusanakereba ikenai.
[Well of course, from the point of view of Japanese language education, of course
there is a lot I want to teach, but if we prioritized towards the children (who need
assistance) the most urgently, (Rokuro and the other student) must be excluded
(from assistance) right away.]
Rokuro’s regular classroom teacher, Ms. Ochi had 11 years of elementary school
teaching experience, five years at a former school and six years at Rokuro’s school. At
this school she had been teaching mainly upper grades, and last year she taught sixth
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grade. This was the first year she taught the first graders in the lower grades. She was in
charge of Rokuro’s class which possessed the most diversity in school. Out of seven
foreign origin first graders, she had four of them in her class even though two transferred
out by the end of the school year. Their countries of origin were Bangladesh, the
Dominican Republic, Peru, and the Philippines. When asked about the intention of
having four of them put together in her class, she explains as follows.
クラス替えのときの、まあ意図的にしたことと聞いてるんですけれども、
クラス替えは私たち１年担任が行ったんではなくて、幼稚園のほうに行っ
ていろいろなお話をこう、聞き取りしてきた者が、クラス替えを行うんで
すけれども、で、どうもここは日本語があまり得意ではない外国籍の子が
多い学年らしいということで、それを１人１人違うクラスにするんじゃな
くて、いっしょのクラスにしたほうが、最初は大変かもしれないけれども、
これからいっしょに勉強していく上でも、本人たちもいいだろうし、で、
担任の先生は最初は大変かもしれないけれども、まあ何人かまとめてしま
ったほうがいいんじゃないかっていうような・・・。
Kurasu gae no toki no, mā itoteki ni shita koto to kiiteru n desu keredomo,
kurasugae wa watashitachi ichinen tan-nin ga ittan de wa nakute, yōchien no hō
ni itte iroiro na ohanashi o kō, kikitori shite kita mono ga, kurasugae o okonaun
desu keredomo, de, dōmo koko wa nihongo ga amar tokui de wa nai gaikokuseki
no ko ga ōi rashii to iu koto de, sore o hitori hitori chigau kurasu ni surun ja
nakute, issho no kurasu ni shita hō ga, saisho wa taihen kamo shirenai keredomo,
kore kara issho ni benkyō shite iku ue demo, hon-nin tachi mo ii darōshi, de,
tannin no sensei wa saisho wa taihen kamo shirenai keredomo, mā nan-nin ka
matomete shimatta hō ga iin janaika tte iu yō na…
[When deciding classes-- well I hear it was intentional, but classes were not
decided by the grade one teachers, but by a staff member who went to
kindergarten to ask some questions, and then decide classes, and since this grade
had many foreign origin children who are not very good at Japanese, rather than
putting each of them in different classes, (it was decided that) putting them
together, even though it might be difficult in the beginning, would be good for
them since they can study together, and it might be difficult for the teachers in the
beginning, but maybe it is the right thing to put several of them together…]
Perhaps, Rokuro did benefit from having them together in the same class, and his best
friend was the Dominican boy, until he moved out of school.
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Even though Rokuro’s school did have more than ten foreign origin students,
because of their temporary nature, the school was not assigned a full-time teachcer to run
a pull-out program for Japanese language instruction. Instead, a qualified JSL teacher
came in every week for a pull-out instruction, unlike many cases where teachers had little
or no JSL training or guidance (Vaipae, 2001). In regular class, Ms. Ochi had to manage
the most diverse class in school, depending almost entirely upon her own initiatives.
Ngoc’s teachers: Ms. Tanaka, regular class teacher, and Ms. Sato, kokusai class
teacher
Ms. Tanaka, a classroom teacher of class 2 in grade 2 had been teaching at Saito
school for seven years. At this school, the kokusai class teachers served as contact
persons for my research request, and Ms. Tanaka did not expect to be one of my
participants. Therefore, when I asked her permission to interview her and audio record
our conversation, she politely rejected my request. She said that recording would be
problematic since that was not her expectation, and it was a sudden request. The
interview was conducted right after school in the teacher’s room where all the other
teachers sat in several rows facing each other. I tried to conduct my interview in a way
sensitive to her concerns, taking notes, and trying not to get into too much detail of her
background. Her interview response and my classroom observation suggest that she
creates a comfortable and equal atmosphere in her classroom. When asked if there are
any benefits for having foreign descent students in her class, she stated that there was
nothing to comment on the fact that she has those students in her class. In other words, it
appears that she did not feel anything out of the ordinary about having them.
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It was Ms. Sato’s, Ngoc’s kokusai class teacher, first year of experience to teach
the class. She had been to Peru, and had a “good cosmopolitan outlook,” as in the
principal’s words「国際感覚豊かな人じゃないと」 “kokusai kankaku yutaka na hito
ja nai to” [(teacher) has to be someone with good cosmopolitan outlook]. There was a
second kokusai class teacher who was teaching at Ngoc’s school. Ms. Inoue, who had
taught kokusai class for three years, once left the scene for two years and then came back.
They taught in the same kokusai classroom desks arranged next to each other. Therefore,
they could consult each other when they needed to ask questions. For example, when Ms.
Sato saw four pages of kanji handouts Thanh, Ngoc’s brother, had brought, she showed
Ms. Inoue those handouts and asked her opinion: “This is too much, isn’t it?”
Ngoc’s regular class teacher, Ms. Tanaka, seemed to treat foreign origin students
the same way as any other students, as “there is no difference in enrolling foreign
students…Teaching should be done according to the Japanese curriculum” (Ministry of
Education Study Group, 1996, cited in Vaipae, 2001). On the other hand, her kokusai
class teachers were a little more sensitive to students’, such as Ngoc’s needs. Even though
they were not trained in JSL instruction, the experience of having lived or traveled in a
foreign country was viewed as a plus (Vaipae, 2001). Table 7-2 is a summary of the
teachers’ background.
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Table 7-2: Summary of Teacher Information
Participant’s Grade or
Teacher
pseudonym assignment pseudonym
Taro
1
Ms. Usui
Rokuro
Ngoc
Kokusai
class
Ms. Hidaka
1
Ms. Ochi
Japanese
teacher
Ms. Abe
2
Ms. Tanaka
Kokusai
class
Ms. Sato
Background & teaching experience
Over 16 years of teaching, five years at
Taro’s school, one year as kokusai class
teacher
Cambodian refugee, a part-time teacher for
Taro’s school and a junior high school
since last year
11 years of teaching, six years at Rokuro’s
school, mainly upper grades, until this year
teaching first grade class
Worked at a company in China, earned
M.A. in Japanese language teaching,
teaches Japanese at seven schools
Seven years at Ngoc’s school (very brief
interview)
Traveled to Peru, first year teaching
kokusai class, with another teacher, Ms.
Inoue
7.2 Children’s Japanese at school
On the surface, most foreign origin students did not stand out in class. Southeast
Asian students have black hair and black eyes, just like Japanese students. South
American students with Japanese descent may have a slightly darker skin color and curly
hair, but have a hint of Asian features in their facial expressions. Above all, they spoke
fluent Japanese. When I observed their classes, I could not tell which students were of
foreign descent, since their physiognomic similarity (Kanno, 2004) made them well
‘assimilated’ into the crowd. The only hint was their names in katakana which were
written on their desks or on the back of their seats. Like Ngoc, many were identifiable by
their names. That was not true for some students who had naturalized as Japanese citizens
and had taken Japanese names, or those Japanese descent South Americans who naturally
had a Japanese name, like Rokuro. Taro’s case was a little unique, since the shortened
231
form of his Cambodian name sounded like a Japanese name, and it could be written in
kanji or hiragana for that matter. Whether their name was Japanese or not, they all
possessed multicultural identities, they all spoke their home language to different degrees,
and they showed some difficulties in academics at school. Ōta (2000) reports that most of
the newcomer students had fallen far behind Japanese students in regular class, and the
pull-out JSL class functioned as a sanctuary for language minority students. The JSL
class observed by Kanno’s (2008) study served a similar function, and the students
actively used their home languages in JSL classroom. This was not the case for students
in this study who were born and raised in Japan.
7.2.1 Multicultural students in regular class
Japanese classrooms are orderly arranged inside, and students are seated in
assigned seats, usually a boy and a girl next to each other (see layout below). They follow
a patterned participation practice, where the teacher poses a question, student raises hand,
teacher calls on student, student stands up and answers the question, and teacher gives
evaluation, or asks class for evaluation. This kind of IRE sequence in Japanese
classrooms, which is common in many US schools (Mehan, 1979) has one significant
difference. As Cook (1999) demonstrated in her study where students were encouraged to
be active listeners and to provide reactions to peers, students observed in this study were
also encouraged to provide evaluation after listening to their peers’ response.
Multicultural students’ participation in such practices differed in quantity and quality
depending on the students’ willingness and the teacher’s way of generating participation.
For some classes, there were more opportunities for all students to participate, whereas
some other classes provided fewer opportunities for such practices. The following
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examples show the students’ participation or non-participation, and the teachers’
reactions to them.
Taro「先生、やりたい！」“Sensei, yaritai!” [Teacher, I want to do it!]
Taro started Yamamoto Public Elementary School in April, 2008, the last month
of my stay in Japan. 31 students in Taro’s first grade class, including four foreign descent
students were seated orderly. Even though he was sitting in the very back seat of the
classroom, Taro was an active participant in class, and he raised his hand often to answer
the classroom teacher, Ms. Usui’s, questions. It was during math class, when she asked a
few questions about a picture in the textbook to class.
Teacher:
何がいますか？
Nani ga imasu ka?
Students including Taro raise hands: はーい！
Ha---i!
Teacher calls on Taro:
太郎さん。
Taro-san.
Taro stands up and gives answer:
狸がいます。
Tanuki ga imasu.
[What is there?]
[Yes! (I can answer.)]
[Taro-san.]
[There is a raccoon.]
Ms. Usui praised him for the way he answered the question in a complete sentence, rather
than just saying「狸」“tanuki” [raccoon], like some other students did. He certainly did
not fail to receive her attention. When she invited a few students to come up to the board
to post a magnet to indicate the number of animals, Taro raised his hand and said out loud,
「先生、やりたい！」“Sensei, yaritai!” [Teacher, I want to do it!]
Taro was able to actively participate in classroom practice to answer basic
questions posed by the teacher. He followed the pattern of raising his hand, waiting for
the teacher to call on him, standing up and answering, as well as, or even better than other
students, answering in a complete sentence. When he was overly excited to participate in
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the posting a magnet on the board activity, he could not contain himself but shouted out
loud even if the teacher did not call on him like some of the other students. At other times,
he lost concentration, and chatted with a boy sitting left to him, or took out a piece of
paper from his desk and played with it, similarly to some of his classmates. As such, he
not only successfully participated in classroom discourse, but also interacted with other
classmates. Such equalized participation would help Taro to develop “interpersonal
identity and achiev[ing] the pivotal educational goal” (Morita, 2002, p. 567). Multiple
opportunities for successful demonstration could empower their social proficiency and
motivation to perform well. In this environment, Taro was able to participate in the same
“imagined communities” (Anderson, 1991; Kanno, 2008) as with any other students. In
contrast, Rokuro was only comfortable participating actively in his favorite class,
Physical Education (P.E.).
Rokuro「（好きな時間は）体育と図工と算数」“(Suki na jikan wa) Taiiku to zukō
to sansū.” [(My favorite classes are) P.E. and art and math]
Rokuro’s first grade class started out as being the most highly populated class
with foreign descent students in school. In the beginning of the school year, there were
four students with foreign descent, the Dominican Republic, the Philippines, Peru, and
Bangladesh. However, by the time I visited his class on Monday in March 2008, two of
them, Dominican and Bangladeshi student had transferred out of school. The Bangladesh
student had just transferred out the Friday before in February, and the student’s desk was
still placed in the classroom.
I observed Rokuro in his least favorite class, kokugo, on the day when Ms. Ochi
was reviewing kanji, his least confident, with the class. As expected, he did not
234
participate actively, and hid underneath the teacher, sitting right in front of her. He did not
raise his hand to answer a question or to volunteer even once, while many of his
classmates raised their hands with enthusiasm. However, when he was directed to write
some kanji which is written in three strokes on the blackboard with a group of other
students, he went up to the board and wrote「上」“ue” [above], and tried to quickly go
back to his seat. Before he got to his seat, he remembered that he had to write the
hiragana reading on the kanji, and came back to the board. He wrote it very rapidly, and
looked very uncomfortable to be at the blackboard. Ms. Ochi evaluated Rokuro’s kokugo
skills as under average.
（国語のほうはまだ平均では）ないです。読解のテストが特にだめです。
文章が上にたくさん書いてあって、下に設問がいくつかあって、「これこ
れをしたのは何という所ですか？」とか、「だれだれがこう言ったのはど
うしてですか？」とかいうと、その「どうしてですか？」とか「どんなと
ころ？」って聞かれてるものが何かというのが分からないので、うん。国
語に関してはまだまだだなと思いますね。
(Kokugo no hō wa mada heikin de wa) Nai desu. Dokkai no tesuto ga toku ni
dame desu. Bunshō ga ue ni takusan kaite atte, shita ni setsumon ga ikutsu ka atte,
‘kore kore o shita no wa nan to iu tokoro desu ka?’ toka, ‘dare dare ga kō itta no
wa dōshite desu ka?’ toka iu to, so ‘dōshite desu ka?’ toka ‘donna tokoro?’ tte
kikareteru mono ga nani ka to iu no ga wakaranai node, un. Kokugo ni kanshite
wa mada mada da na to omoimasu ne.
[(His kokugo skill is still) below average. He especially does not do well on
reading comprehension tests. When there is a long text on the top of the page, and
a few questions on the bottom, for example “What is the place where this
happened called?” or “Why did someone say so and so?”, then he does not
understand what is being asked in “Why?” or “What kind of place?” questions. As
for kokugo, I think he still has a lot to catch up.]
However, Ms. Ochi sees some progress in Rokuro’s reading skills too, thanks to the hard
work of the home tutors.
２学期の10月ぐらいから感じたんですけれども、それまでは言葉の意味
を分からずに、「た・ぬ・き・さ・ん」って読んじゃうんですね。「たぬ
きさん」っていう１つの言葉として読むんじゃなくて、ただ文字をなぞっ
ていくっていう形で読んでたのが、そういう意味を考えながら *** 読め
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るようになったので、「ああ、ちゃんと意味が分かって読めるようになっ
たのかな」と思いました *** お家で音読の宿題を出すときもあって、１
回この物語を読んでお家の人にサインをもらってくるっていうようなこと
もよくやっていました *** サインを忘れちゃうときもけっこうあったん
ですけど、でもサインを忘れたとしてもお家で家庭教師の先生やお姉ちゃ
んと読んでいることがあるようだったので *** お家での練習がとても効
果があったんじゃないかと思います。
Nigakki no jūgatsu gurai kara kanjita n desu keredomo, sore made wa kotoba no
imi o wakarazu ni, ‘ta/nu/ki/sa/n’ tte yonjau n desu ne. ‘Tanuki-san’ tte iu hitotsu
no kotoba to shite yomu n ja nakute, tada moji o nazotte iku tte iu katachi de
yondeta no ga, sō iu imi o kangae nagara *** yomeru yō ni natta node, ‘aa,
chanto imi ga wakatte yomeru yō ni natta no ka na’ to omoimashita. *** O-uchi
de ondoku no shukudai o dasu toki mo ate, ikkai kono monogatari o yonde o-uchi
no hito ni sain o moratte kuru tte iu yō na koto mo yoku yatte imashita. *** Sain o
wasurechau toki mo kekkō atta n desu kedo, demo saain o wasureta to shite mo ouchi de katei kyōshi no sensei ya o-nei-chan to yonde iru koto ga aru yō datta
node *** ouchi de no renshū ga totemo kōka ga atta n ja nai ka to omoimasu.
[I noticed (the change) from around second semester in October, and until then
without understanding the meaning of the word, he read “ta/nu/ki/sa/n (Mr.
Racoon)”. He didn’tt read “tanukisan” as one word, but rather just traced it letter
by letter, however, now he thinks through the meaning *** So, I thought “Oh,
now he understands the meaning properly and can read”. *** There are times
when I give homework to read aloud, and I often had them read the story once
and get signature from someone at home. *** There were times when he forgot
the signature, but even when he forgot it, it seemed like he read with his home
tutor or his sister at home *** So, I think his practice at home has been very
effective for him.]
When asked what Rokuro’s favorite subject was, he answered「体育と図工と算
数」“taiiku to zukō to sansū” [P.E. and art and math], because「体育さ、なんかやる
でしょ、ドッチボールとか、で後図工が遊ぶでしょ、なんか作るでしょ、で算数
は勉強の時間でしょ、で算数は得意なんだけど、どんどんどんどん練習してる」
“Taiiku sa, nanka yaru desho, docchibōru toka, de ato zukō ga asobu desho, nanka
tsukuru desho, de sansū wa benkyō no jikan desho, de sansū wa tokui na n dakedo,
dondon dondon renshū shiteru.” [in P.E. I do stuff like dodge ball, and then in art play,
and make stuff, and math is study time, and I am good at math, but I practice over and
over.] There was a clear contrast to Rokuro’s performance in kokugo and P.E. class.
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When the teacher announced the break time, and instructed students to change clothes for
P.E. class next period, Rokuro was the first one to get the work done, and proudly
shouted out loud,「先生、終わった！」“Sensei, owatta!” [Teacher, I’m done!] The
teacher gave instructions in the classroom to set up the vaulting horse in the gym, and
then took the class there. The class ran around the gym a few times, and then lined up in
front of the teacher. The teacher instructed the class to spread out to stretch their bodies.
Rokuro ran far out of the group, turning round and around. The teacher shouted,「六郎
君！」“Rokuro-kun!” [Rokuro!] to call him back to the group. He let off steam by
running around. Then, the teacher instructed the students to line up in front of six
vaulting horses in six groups. The teacher called on Rokuro to give a demonstration how
to jump the horse, and he gracefully jumped it in front of the whole class. His active
behavior in P.E. is nothing like his passive participation in other classes in the classroom.
In fact, Rokuro’s superior athleticism proved easy access to peer groups, and he
often had a handful of girls chasing him and running around him during break. Therefore,
there was a sharp contrast between his active involvement in athletic activities and break
time, and his non-participation in kokugo class. During kokugo class, he simply looked
anxious and uncomfortable, looking back occasionally, or peeking into other student’s
desk. Rokuro wasn’t alone in this class with this behavior, but other students also raised
their hands to participate when they can. However, he successfully responded to the
teacher when he was called upon, to read a passage, or write a kanji on the blackboard,
even though he did not look very confident in front of the class, and quickly returned to
his seat. According to Morita (2002), “equal weight on academics, non-academics, and
all ‘extracurricular’ activities provided the language minority students with multiple
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opportunities for demonstrating various non-verbal potentials” (p. 567). Similarly,
Rokuro could demonstrate his potentials in non-academic subject such as P.E. and
athletic activities during break time. His next challenge was to translate this satisfaction
to an aspiration for success in academics.
Ngoc「先生、知らんぷりだよ」
“Sensei, shiranpuri day o.” [Teacher, pretend not knowing (me), okay?]
Unlike Rokuro’s school where foreign origin students were unevenly placed in
each class, at Ngoc’s school, they were placed evenly across classes. In her grade, second
grade, a total of five students were distributed evenly across classes, one in each three
classes, and two in Ngoc’s class of 33 students total. Ngoc’s foreign descent classmate
was a boy from Laos with a Japanese name, and even thoug I had met him previously in
kokusai class, I was unable to find him in this classroom. That was how much these
students were integrated into class. Having an Asian feature and a Japanese name made it
almost impossible to point them out in class.
In class, Ngoc was rather quiet, almost unnoticeable in the back seat row together
with two other classmates, a major contrast with her energetic participation during the
tutoring sessions at home. When I told her that I would be visiting her class, she said to
me,「今日はゴックちゃんの先生が来てるから、いいところを見せましょう、何
て言ったら死んじゃう！」“Kyō wa Gokku-chan no sensei ga kiteru kara, ii tokoro o
misemashō, nan te ittara shinjau!” [If (the teacher) said something like, ‘Today Ngoc’s
teacher has come, so let’s show her good behaviors,’ I will die!] I promised her that I
would pretend not to know her. After the classroom teacher, Ms. Tanaka, introduced me
in front of class as simply a visitor, not mentioning Ngoc’s name, I passed by her seat to
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move myself to the back of the classroom. To my surprise, she whispered to me,「先生、
知らんぷりだよ」“Sensei, shiranpuri da yo.” [Teacher, pretend not knowing, okay?], as
if she wanted the students around her to know that we had a big secret. Ms. Tanaka
started a ‘name calling game’ while she went out to get the music teacher, which was the
next period class. “Name calling game” was a game to call one’s name as you clap your
hands rhythmically, and the one who was called had to choose the next name to call
without breaking the rhythmical beat of the hands. Someone called my name “Ms.
Miyamoto”, and I panicked. The only one I knew in this class was Ngoc, but I was not
supposed to know her. I quickly chose a name that had been called a few times in the
game and I remembered, “Noriko-chan!.” Ngoc misheard me, or perhaps expected me to
call her, and looked at me with a bright smile,「あたし？！」“Atashi?!” [Me?!]. It did
not take long for her to realize her misunderstanding, as Noriko quickly responded to me
and the game kept on going. Nobody called on Ngoc.
Ngoc studied hard to keep up with her academics. Ms. Tanaka comments on her
academic skills as follows; “She is diligent, but learning takes time. She was a steady and
hard worker, so even if she lags behind in both kanji and calculation in the beginning,
eventually she will catch up.” Ms. Tanaka found that many foreign descent students start
to lag behind as they move on to higher grades. She believed that if they do not try harder
than the Japanese students, studying would become very difficult. Therefore, she believed
Ngoc should continue kokusai class participation, unlike some other students who
graduate out of it in earlier years of elementary school. Even if Ms. Tanaka evaluated
Ngoc’s Japanese proficiency as ‘no problem with daily conversations’, she worried that
the path in front of her would be a difficult one.
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Ngoc had adapted into her class well, and her modest behavior was almost
unnoticeable. In fact, she did not wish to be the center of attention in class, making me
pretend not to know her when I visited her class. However, her mixed feelings showed up
when she whispered to me as if we shared an important secret. Even though she had
plenty of Vietnamese friends to hang out with in her neighborhood, she seemed to be a
loner at school. In fact, her study-mate, Thuy, was in the classroom just down the hallway,
but they did not meet during the break time. Interestingly, when I asked the Vietnamese
girls who their good friends were, they did not name each other, but told me Japanese
girls’ names, which I assumed were their classmates. Just like her modest and submissive
demeanor among her classmates during break time, there was nothing particular to note
about her academic behavior during class either. However, according to her classroom
teacher, she lagged behind other classmates, and positioned Ngoc as a kokusai class
participant, in other words, a JSL learner, and saw her academic progress as a challenging
task. Since the imagined communities the teachers envisioned for Ngoc positioned her as
a permanent resident of Japan, rather than, for example, as transnational Chinese for
students at a Chinese ethnic school in Kanno’s (2008) study, she was “seen as in need of
fast assimilation to the Japanese language and the Japanese education system” (p. 94).
Multicultural students in this study were adapted well into their regular classes at
school, and are barely identifiable due to their physiognomic similarities (Kanno, 2004)
with the rest of the Japanese students. Taro followed the classroom practices of
participation by raising his hand, and actively engaging in answering the teacher’s
questions. Rokuro was not as active in his least confident class, kokugo. However, he
followed the teacher’s instructions by reading a passage, or writing a kanji on the
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blackboard. Ngoc worked on her own, and followed the teacher’s instruction as a group.
As such, students successfully engaged in classroom practices understanding all the
teacher’s commands. However, teachers’ evaluations indicated their underachievement in
academics, and in some cases, it seemed to be attributed to their kokusai class status as a
JSL learner, rather than understanding their learning process as different as any other
Japanese students as individual difference (Morita, 2002).
7.2.2 Multicultural students in pull-out kokusai class
Not all multicultural students’ schools had a kokusai class, and when they did,
they had different criteria to assign the students. Taro’s school did have one, and the
decision was made based on the parents’ request, as well as the student’s necessity.
Rokuro’s school did not have a kokusai class, but instead, a Japanese teacher came in
several times a week and pulled him out of his regular class. Ngoc’s school had a long
history of kokusai class operation, and foreign origin students were enrolled in the
beginning with the expectation of exiting the class when they were believed to be able to
be mainstreamed with the rest of the Japanese students. Here, Taro and Rokuro were
being evaluated whether they needed extra assistance or not, whereas Ngoc was in the
midst of her kokusai class literacy negotiations with the teacher.
Taro: evaluated as not needing kokusai class assistance
When I visited Taro’s school in the spring, 2008, kokusai class assignment had
not started yet. On the day I visited his class, the kokusai class teacher, Ms. Hidaka came
in to evaluate the Cambodian students. After school, I asked her what she thought about
Taro. Her evaluation was that he would not need her assistance, or even if he wanted her
assistance, he would not receive it.
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たぶん（国際教室に）入らないんじゃないですかね。***分からないんで
すけど。しっかりしてるので、ほかに必要な子もいますし、***週に１回
ですので、たまにこう入ったり、あとはほかの日も、２年の子が今まで教
えてた子が２人いるんですけど、どの子が今必要でっていうようなこと
を、たぶん話し合って・・・。でもほんとにカンボジアの子で国際教室に
通ってくる子は、10 何人いるんですけど、私が担当しなくても、***私だ
けじゃなくて、私の時間も少ないので、日本の先生がこうサポートしてく
れたりするんです。はい。で、たぶん今いらっしゃる国際の先生、２人い
らっしゃるんですけど、てんてこまいして、生徒がいっぱいいて。
Tabun (kokusai kyōshitsu ni) hairanai n ja nai desu ka ne. *** Wakaranai n desu
kedo. Shikkari shiteru node, hoka ni hitsuyō na ko mo imasu shi, *** Shū ni i-kkai
desu node, tama ni kō haittari, ato wa hoka no hi mo, ni-nen no ko ga ima made
oshieteta ko ga futari iru n desu kedo, dono ko ga ima hitsuyō de tte iu yō na koto
o, tabum hanashi atte... Demo honto ni Kambojia no ko de kokusai kyōsitsu ni
kayotte kuru ko wa, jūnannin iru n desu kedo, watashi ga tantō shinakutemo, ***
watashi dake ja nakute, watashi no jikan mo sukunai node, Nihon no sensei ga kō
sapōto shite kuretari suru n desu. Hai. De, tabun ima irassharu kokusai no sensei,
futari irassharu n desu kedo, tentekomai shite, seito ga ippai ite.
[Probably he will not be (in kokusai class). *** I don’t know. He is capable, and
there are other children in need, *** it is once a week, so sometimes they come,
and besides on other days, there are two second graders who I used to teach, so
who needs (assistance) now, will probably be discussed… But really, there are
about 10 Cambodian children who come to kokusai class, but even if I don’t
become in charge, *** my time is limited too, so not only myself but also
Japanese teachers support them too. Yes. Howver, probably kokusai teachers right
now, there are two, but they are chaotically busy, there are many students.]
Taro’s classroom teacher commented on budgetary restrictions, which did not allow Ms.
Hidaka to come in more often.
できればもっと回数を増やしてほしいんですが、なかなかそれも林市とし
ては予算に限りがありますので、難しいんですけども、精一杯来ていただ
くっていう形ですね。始めは、去年は４月５月は週に１回で４回来て、そ
れからだんだん減ってきて、２月３月は２回ずつでしたね。
Dekireba motto kaisū o fuyashite hoshii n desu ga, nakanaka sore mo Hayashishi
to shite wa yosan ni kagiri ga arimasu node, muzukashii n desu kedomo, seiippai
kite itadaku tte iu katachi desu ne. Hajime wa, kyonen wa shigatsu gogatsu wa
shū ni ikkai de yonkai kite, sorekara dandan hette kite, nigatsu sangatsu wa ni-kai
zutsu deshita ne.
[If possible, I want her to come in more often, but realistically there is a limit to
Hayashi city’s budget, so it’s difficult, but we take full advantage of her as much
as she can come. In the beginning, last year in April and May she came once a
week, a total of 4 times, and then this gradually reduced in February and March to
twice each month.]
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It was unlikely that Taro will receive extra assistance from Ms. Hidaka in such a difficult
situation.
As such, Taro was evaluated as not being “urgent” enough to receive Ms.
Hidaka’s assistance, which became so scarce towards the end of the previous school year,
reduced to only twice a month. Her time was so limited that she seemed to be unable to
take advantage of her Cambodian language resources, as can be inferred from her
interview response. She said that ‘even if I don’t become in charge,’ Japanese teachers
could, and did support the Cambodian students too. In other words, she was only able to
do what other Japanese teachers were also capable of doing, and was replaceable by other
Japanese teachers. She was not able to bring her resources into play. In such a tightly
operated system, it was no big surprise that students such as Taro, who was ‘capable,’
following most of the directions given by the classroom teacher as well as the other
Japanese students, got filtered through. Such orally-capable children “were very
frequently assumed to be ready for instruction similar to that given to native speakers of
Japanese” (Vaipae, 2001, P. 206).
Rokuro: liking the pull-out JSL (Japanese as a Second Language) class
Even if Rokuro did not like the kokugo subject and kanji, he did not dislike his
pullout JSL class where he got assistance with learning kanji, hiragana, and katakana.
His JSL teacher, Ms. Abe’s, evaluation of Rokuro was similar to Ms. Ochi.
あの子は文字と音が結びつきにくいかな。お話は上手にできます。それか
ら順序立てて、意味の分かる話をきちんとします。それからあんまり活用
も間違うこともないし、お話は上手なんですけど、ただ文字と言葉が結び
つかないかな。例えば「今日はいいお天気です」なんていう、例えばね、
そういうことを言い、言うことはできるんです。***「じゃそれ書いてご
らん」って言うと、文字ができない。***ただ外国籍の子どもっていうこ
とでくくっていくと、***もう日本語指導の対象者ではないんですよね。
243
正直なところ。で、やっぱり今も国語の教科書を持ってきて、小学校１年
生の国語の教科書を持ってきて、どんどん読めますから・・・。ある意味
もう日本語が母語になってるわけなので、あとは学力の問題。
Ano ko wa moji to oto ga musubi tsuki nikui ka na. Ohanashi wa jōzu ni dekimasu.
Sore kara junjō datete, imi no wakaru hanashi o kichin to shimasu. Sore kara
ammari katsuyō mo machigau koto mo nai shi, ohanashi wa jōzu nan desu kedo,
tada moji to kotoba ga musubi tsukanai ka na. Tatoeba, ‘kyo wa ii o-tenki desu’
nante iu, tatoeba ne, sō iu koto o ii, iu koto wa dekiru n desu. *** ‘Ja sore kaite
goran’ tte iu to, moji ga dekinai. *** Tada gaikokuseki no kodomo tte iu koto de
kukutte iku to, *** mō Nihon-go shidō no taishōsha de wa nai n desu yo ne.
Shōjiki na tokoro. De, yappari ima mo kokugo no kyōkasho o motte kite, shōgakkō
ichinensei no kokugo no kyōkasho o motte kite, dondon yomemasu kara... Aru imi
mō Nihongo ga bogo ni natteru wake na node, ato wa gakuryoku no mondai.
[That boy perhaps has difficulties making connections between letters and sounds.
He speaks well. And he tells stories in a coherent and comprehensible manner.
And he does not make mistakes in conjugations, so he speaks well, but perhaps he
cannot make the connection between letters and words. For example, “Today is
good weather”, or some similar sentence, for example, he can say. *** If I tell
him, “Well, write it down”, he cannot write. *** He is grouped with foreign
children, *** but he does not need Japanese language instruction anymore, to be
honest. Well, he always brings (to class) his kokugo textbook, his first grade
kokugo textbook, and he can read fluently… In a sense Japanese has become his
mother language already, so the rest of the problem is his academic skills.]
Even if Rokuro still had difficulties writing, he had made progress in reading, and Ms.
Abe felt that he was not urgent enough to be subject to her JSL instruction. After all, Ms.
Abe was commuting to seven schools a week, and did not have the luxury of helping
students like Rokuro.
As such, multicultural students such as Taro and Rokuro were not “urgent”
enough to receive assistance. Ms. Abe’s similar evaluation of Rokuro to Ms. Ochi’s took
on a slightly different perspective as a JSL teacher. She evaluated his speech as if judging
a second language learner, describing that “he does not make any mistakes in
conjugations.” In the course of this evaluation, she realized that Rokuro’s “Japanese has
become his mother language already,” and “does not need Japanese language instruction
anymore.” Here, she was inferring that because “he is grouped with foreign children,” he
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had been receiving her assistance. However, he was not the typical “foreign student” who
deserved her instruction and busy time. Therefore, even if Ms. Abe saw a “problem” in
his academic skills, Rokuro would not benefit from the kind of Japanese language
instruction she was providing to other foreign students. This implies that Ms. Abe’s
instruction was rather basic, such as reading aloud textbooks, copying down passages,
playing games with hiragana and katakana flash cards, as observed in Kanno’s (2008)
study, or practicing basic communication skills, as in Vaipae’s (2001) study.
Ngoc「国際、やだな」“Kokusai, yada na.” [I don’t like kokusai (class).]
On the day I visited Ms. Sato and Ngoc’s kokusai class, they were working on
compound words consisting of four kanji, such as「東西南北」“east, west, south,
north.” Even if her Laotian classmate was in the same kokusai classroom during the same
period, she was facing Ms. Sato, one-on-one, receiving her full attention.
Teacher:
下は、何だっけ？
[What was below?]
Shita wa, nan dakke?
Ngoc writes four kanji: こっちは、東。
[This way is east.]
Kocchi wa, higashi.
Teacher:
すごいなあ。読み方は、とうざいなんぼく。言ってみて。
Sugoi naa. Yomikata wa, tōzainanboku. Itte mite.
[Great. Reading is “east, west, south, north”. Try saying it.]
Ngoc:
とう．．．ちょっとまって．．．[East…wait a sec…]
Tō...chotto matte...
Teacher:
とう、ざい、なん、ぼく。
[East, west, south, north]
Tō, zai, nan, boku.
***
Ngoc:
学校生．．．あれ？ヒント。
[School “sei”...huh? Hint?]
Gakko sei…are? Hinto.
Teacher:
お勉強の中にある。
[It is one of the subjects.]
O-benkyō no naka ni aru.
Ngoc:
国語、算数、生活、学校ようじ。
Kokugo, sansū, seikatsu, gakko yōji.
[Kokugo, math, life, school “yoji”.]
Teacher:
学校ぎょうじ、ようじじゃなくて。[School “gyoji” not “yoji”.]
Gakkō gyōji, yōji ja nakute.
245
Ngoc:
Teacher:
聞いたことない。
Kiita koto nai.
聞いたことない？
Kiita koto nai?
[I’ve never heard of it.]
[You’ve never heard of it?]
Here Ngoc tackled challenging compound words not part of her daily repertoire, and
struggled to repeat the readings after the teacher. In order to position herself as a capable
student, she negotiated with her teacher to give her a “hint” rather than a direct answer.
When she was corrected on her answer, she justified her error by saying that she had
“never heard of it,” rejecting to be positioned as a forgetful learner. Below, she continued
to be engaged in this challenging task.
Teacher:
１０月に図書館で本を読みましょう。[In October let’s read
books in the library.]
Jūgatsu ni toshokan de hon o yomimashō.
Ngoc:
読書。
[Reading books.]
Dokusho.
Teacher:
何回ぐらいやったっけ？[About how many times did we do it?]
Nankai gurai yatta kke?
Ngoc:
忘れた。
[I forgot.]
Wasureta.
Teacher:
月曜日、火曜日．．．
[Monday, Tuesday…]
Getsuyōbi, kayōbi...
Ngoc:
一週間。
[One week.]
Isshūkan.
Teacher:
そう、読書週間。絵を書くこと。図．．．
Sō, dokusho shūkan. E o kaku koto. Zu…
[That’s right, reading books week. To draw pictures. “Zu”…]
Ngoc:
ヒント。
[Hint.]
Hinto.
Teacher:
これの下につく漢字。
[Kanji that comes after this.]
Kore no shita ni tsuku kanji.
Ngoc:
が？
[Ga?]
Ga?
Teacher:
うん。
[Yeah.]
Un.
Ngoc:
がってどんな漢字だっけ？
[What was “ga” kanji like?]
Ga tte donna kanji dakke?
((Ngoc puts her head on the desk to think of the appropriate kanji.))
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As illustrated above, kanji compound words such as「東西南北」“tōzainanboku” [east,
west, south, north],「学校行事」“gakkō gyōji” [school events], and「読書週間」
“dokusho shūkan” [book reading week] were not easy for Ngoc. Nevertheless, she did not
give up and took full advantage of kokusai class. However, she did not always like going
to kokusai class. She murmured during our tutoring session one day,「国際、やだな」
“Kokusai, yada na.” [I don’t like kokusai (class).] In order to go to kokusai class, she had
to miss some activities in her regular class, such as arts and craft activity.
Her kokusai class teacher, Ms. Sato evaluated Ngoc in the same manner as Ms.
Tanaka, her classroom teacher.
ゴックちゃんのほうは、もう一生懸命ね、努力家ですしね、やればやった
だけのことは返ってきます。ただやっぱり難しいことを聞いたりすると、
ちょっと言葉もだいぶね、まあいろんなことで、ほかの子どもたちともよ
く話もできるようなんで、ちょこっとこう生意気なことも言いますけれど
も。こないだもそこの場面を想像するのに、「どうしてこうだと思う
の？」って言ったら、「だからお勉強してるんでしょ」っていうようなね。
「だからここに来てるんでしょ」っていうような言い方をね、しますので、
「でもそうじゃなくって、やっぱり自分で考えないと、そういうふうなこ
と読み取れないんだよ」っていうお話をしてね、ちょっと強く言ったら、
まあ考え直してまたやりましたけども。
Ngoc-chan no hō wa, mō isshōkenmei ne, doryokuka desu shi ne, yareba yatta
dake no koto wa kaette kimasu. Tada yappari muzukashii koto o kiitari suru to,
chotto kotoba mo daibu ne, maa ironna koto de, hoka no kodomotachi to mo yoku
hanashi mo dekiru yō na n de, choko tto kō namaiki na koto mo iimasu keredomo.
Konaida mo soko no bamen o sōzō suru noni, ’dōshite kō da to omou no?’ tte
ittara, ‘dakara o-benkyō shiteru n de sho’ tte iu yō na ne. ‘Dakara koko ni kiteru
n de sho’ tte iu yō na iikata o ne, shimasu node, ’demo sō ja naku tte, yappari
jibun de kangaenai to, sō iu fō na koto yomitorenai n da yo’ tte iu o-hanashi o
shite ne, chotto tsuyoku ittara, maa kangae naoshite mata yarimashita kedomo.
[Ngoc does her best and is a hard worker, and the more she tries the better results
she gets. But obviously if I ask something difficult, her response, well regarding
various things, because she can probably speak well with other children, she also
says something a little impertinent. The other day when imagining a scene, I
asked “Why do you think so?”, she responded like, “That’s why we study”.
Something like, “That’s why I come here”, so I told her in a little stern manner,
“But that’s not right, and after all you have to think yourself, otherwise you
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cannot comprehend such things”, and, well, she reconsidered and worked on it.]
As can be seen from the teachers’ evaluation of Ngoc, she was a diligent student
and took kokusai class very seriously. However, she did not like the fact that she had to
attend kokusai class, and miss some interesting activities in regular class. With the
frustration of having to deal with difficult topics, face-to-face with the teacher having no
place to escape, unlike in her regular class where she can be one of the many, she fired
back one day. As Ms. Sato recounted, when she asked Ngoc a challenging question, she
accused her of not telling her the answer, saying ‘that’s why I come here’ to receive the
correct answers to the questions. In fact, when she worked on kanji problems, she tried to
negotiate in the same manner. She repeatedly asked the teacher for a ‘hint,’ not directly
for the correct answer, and tried to negotiate with the teacher to give out the final answer.
Contrary to Vaipae’s (2001) and Kanno’s (2008) observation of JSL instruction focusing
on basic skills, Ngoc engaged in intellectually stimulating tasks in her kokusai class.
Teachers’ evaluations of multicultural students’ Japanese language determined
whether they needed to attend kokusai class and whether they needed the special
assistance of a Japanese language teacher. Taro and Rokuro were categorized as “foreign
students,” but did not fit with the stereotype of JSL learners, and therefore, were not
“urgent” enough for further assistance. On the other hand, Ngoc took full advantage of
the kokusai class curriculum well established at her school. As the kokusai class teachers
evaluated the students’ Japanese language, they realized that Japanese is their dominant
language. However, as the students were already framed in the “foreign students”
category, it did not come natural to treat their Japanese as their “mother language,” and
viewed their academic skills as a “problem,” or “language as problem” (Ruiz, 1984).
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Next, multicultural students’ use of home language at school will be discussed.
7.3 Children’s home language at school
Children generally did not speak their home language at school, even if there were
opportunities to do so. In the same classroom, there may be another foreign student who
spoke the same language. In the kokusai class, the teachers would be happy to hear them
speak their home languages. In the school, there may be ten other students who spoke the
same language, besides Japanese. The school provided opportunities for the students to
be immersed in the home language and culture through events such as “International
event week,” and to introduce their language and culture to other Japanese students
through events such as “International week presentations.” However, children did not
take full advantage of these events, but rather experienced these as “uncomfortable”
moments to have to “perform” their home language.
7.3.1 In regular class
Multicultural students in this study were not the only foreign descent students in
their regular class. However, the origins of country and the languages they spoke may or
may not be the same. In some cases, students were not aware of the other students’
origins and linguistic background. Even if they knew that they shared a common
language besides Japanese, they chose not to speak the language in regular class in front
of other Japanese students. This may be due to their awareness of the context of the
classroom situation, due to their lack of confidence in speaking the language fluently, or
simply due to embarrassment. Here, such multicultural students’ attitudes toward
speaking their home languages at school, in regular class in the presence of other
Japanese students will be discussed.
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Taro speaking Cambodian in regular class to Ms. Hidaka
Contrary to what Ryo said about Taro not wanting to speak Cambodian at nursery
school to his friends, he did not mind speaking Cambodian to Ms. Hidaka, the
Cambodian teacher, who visited his regular class one day. After her observation of Taro
on April 21, she commented on him as an exceptional child in terms of his attitudes
toward speaking Cambodian. When she tried to talk to other Cambodian children in their
language, normally they would respond in Japanese just by saying「あ、そのことば知
ってる」“A, sono kotoba shitteru.” [Oh, I know that word.], whereas, Taro actually
responded to her in Cambodian in class. During that kokugo class, he actively engaged in
communication with her (without interrupting the class or Ms. Usui, the classroom
teacher). After she was introduced as a Cambodian teacher and when she came next to
him, he asked her directly,「カンボジア語、話せるの？」“Kambojiago, hanaseru
no?” [You can speak Cambodian?] When she nodded quietly, he assured her by saying,
「大丈夫だよ。俺、分かってるから」 “Daijōbu da yo. Ore, wakatteru kara.” [It’s
okay. I understand (Cambodian).] Later, again, he proudly repeated to her,「俺ね、カン
ボジア語、しゃべれるよ」“Ore ne, Kambojiago, shabereru yo.” [I can speak
Cambodian.]
As mentioned earlier, Taro claimed that he spoke his home language to his
Cambodian-Japanese classmate, Aimi, in class and also spoke to the Cambodian teacher,
Ms. Hidaka, not hesitating to interact in his home language. In this context, he did not
worry about other Japanese classmates not understanding them. In addition, by
announcing that he ‘understands Cambodian and can speak the language’ in Japanese, he
positioned himself as a capable Japanese-Cambodian user, not needing Ms. Hidaka’s
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assistance. In his mind, a Cambodian teacher was there to help Taro with his home
language, not Japanese. This was precisely his father’s hope, signing Taro up for kokusai
class. However, as mentioned earlier, Ms. Hidaka evaluated Taro as not needing
attendance in kokusai class. Not only was he judged as not requring Japanese language
instruction, but also not needing home language instruction, unlike newcomer students
who received bilingual instruction in the JSL class in Kanno’s (2008) study.
Rokuro not speaking Spanish in class
Unlike Taro, Rokuro did not speak Spanish in class, even if his best friend in class
was from Dominican Republic. In fact, the Dominican boy had come to Japan a year ago,
and could not speak Japanese well. Ms. Ochi, Rokuro’s classroom teacher recalls that
they were always fighting, Rokuro complaining,「秀雄君、意味が分かってくれない
からやだ」“Hideo-kun, imi ga wakatte kurenai kara yada.” [Hideo wouldn’t understand
the meaning, so it’s annoying.] Ms. Ochi had never heard them speaking in Spanish, and
understands Rokuro’s reluctance to speak the language as follows.
あんまり上手じゃないっていうのもあるのと、あと恥ずかしがって、みん
なの前では絶対しゃべらないですね。
Ammari jōzu ja nai tte iu no mo aru no to, ato hazukashigatte, minna no mae de
wa zettai shaberanai desu ne.
[The fact is he is not very good at it, and also he is embarrassed, and so he never
speaks (Spanish) in front of anyone.]
However, perhaps Rokuro did not know where his best friend was from and what
language he spoke. When asked about the origin of another classmate of foreign descent,
Rokuro responded,「まだ聞いてない」“Mada kiite nai.” [I haven’t asked yet.]
At Rokuro’s school where monoculturalism was the absolute norm, he did not
even know the background of other foreign descent students, and their languages. He did
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not even speak Spanish to Hideo, his best friend from the Dominican Republic who could
not speak Japanese well in the beginning of this arrival to Japan. Instead, he blamed
Hideo for not understanding Japanese, claiming absolute superiority over him as a fluent
Japanese speaker. Perhaps, if he spoke in Spanish, he would have lost the many fights
they were engaged in. After all, the only thing they shared in the Japanese regular class
was their minority status, and Japan-born Rokuro who had no confidence in Spanish
could not have effectively played a language mentor role to newcomer Hideo, which he
would have much appreciated. Rokuro survived the dynamics of being a minroity by two
contrasting strategies: “the one is mutual-aid cohesion by homogenizing and the other is
self protective-protective compensation by differentiation” (Morita, 2002, p. 555).
Ngoc not wanting to speak Vietnamese at school
Even if Ngoc’s school has the largest percentage of Vietnamese students out of all
foreign descent students, she did not actively speak her language with her friends at
school. As a matter of fact, she felt a little uncomfortable when she had to say a few
words in Vietnamese at the annual International week presentation, where kokusai class
students were put on stage to perform plays and give presentations, and commented on
the experience as「ちょっと、それ、やだったよね」 “Chotto, sore, ya datta yo ne.”
[It was a little unpleasant, wasn’t it?] According to her, when she spoke Vietnamese at
school, it was a slip of the tongue;「間違えて日本語しゃべるときにベトナム語」
“Machigaete Nihon-go shaberu toki ni Betonamugo” [By mistake, when speaking
Japanese, Vietnamese.] However, her classroom teacher, Ms. Tanaka had not heard Ngoc
speak the language. Unlike Taro or Rokuro, she did not have any classmates who would
understand Vietnamese.
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Ngoc did not completely admit that she did not speak much Vietnamese at school,
and explained that sometimes she spoke her home language by mistake, but not
intentionally. However, there was no sign of her speaking the language in her regular
class or even outside of class during break. Contrary to her close involvement with her
Vietnamese peers at home, she did not hang out with the same peers during break at
school. The only time when they were seen together was during the International week
presentation when they had to stand on stage together to say a few words in Vietnamese
in front of the whole school crowd. This was certainly an uncomfortable moment for
Ngoc who does not have the custom of speaking her home language regularly at school.
Ironically, this well intentioned International presentation was the official occasion, the
only occasion, when the foreign origin students were encouraged to speak their home
languages at school. It is no surprise that this deliberate “internationalization” method
“raises complaints and objections from foreign students [and their parents]” (Takahashi
& Vaipae, 1996, cited in Morita, 2002).
Multicultural students in this study generally did not speak their home languages
actively at school and in their regular class period, unless special occasions arose. For
Taro, Ms. Hidaka’s presence was a perfect occasion for his Cambodian interaction, and
he did not hesitate to converse in his home language in the regular class environment.
Rokuro did not take advantage of his opportunity to speak Spanish to his closest
classmate from the Dominican Republic, reserving the right as a fluent Japanese speaker.
Ngoc’s close Vietnamese peers were unseen around her at school, and the only official
occasion when she was seen speaking Vietnamese was at the presentation during the
International week. As such, students indicated different attitudes toward speaking their
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home languages at school and in their regular classroom environment. However, they
showed great sensitivity towards choosing (or not choosing) the appropriate moments to
do so. Overall, students “have only limited chances to use their native languages in
schools” (Ōta, 2000, p. 7).
7.3.2 Home language in pull-out kokusai class
One might imagine that multicultural students speak their home languages more
in pull-out kokusai class than their regular class. However, their opportunities seemed to
be as limited as in their regular class context. Even if some schools provide kokusai class
teachers who can speak the students’ home languages, their role was simply to assist
‘urgent’ students who could not speak, read, and write very well in Japanese. Once these
students were mainstreamed into the regular class, their responsibility was fulfilled.
However, these teachers who speak the students’ home languages and share the cultural
heritage of the students can potentially play a significant role, as some parents hoped
them to do. The attitudes of one parent and teachers’ interview responses on multicultural
students’ use of home languages will be discussed below.
As mentioned above, new grade one students at Taro’s school had not started
kokusai class assignments yet when I visited his school in April. They would start in May
after students became accustomed to their class environments. Ms. Hidaka, the
Cambodian teacher evaluated him as not needing kokusai class assistance. However, the
student and the parents can make a request. Taro’s father, Ryo sees this opportunity as a
home language maintenance class and wishes him to be in kokusai class because「カン
ボジア語を勉強してもらいたい」“Kambojiago o benkyō shite moraitai.” [I want him
to study Cambodian.] He knew that there was a Cambodian teacher at his school, and he
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wanted Taro to study Cambodian there so that he will not forget it. If such a choice was
available to him, it is easy to imagine Taro taking full advantage of this opportunity.
Even though I did not have an opportunity to observe Rokuro’s Japanese tutoring
sessions at his school, Ms. Abe, his Japanese teacher, stated that he did not speak much
Spanish in her class. She understood that he「できる」“dekiru” [can do] Spanish.
However, when asked whether she had heard him speak the language, she responded as
follows.
なんかね、ときどき一言二言ですけど、でも聞いたら分かるとかって言っ
てましたけど、あんまりしゃべらないんで。
Nanka ne, toki doki hito-koto futa-koto desu kedo, demo kiitara wkaru toka tte
ittemashita kedo, ammari shaberanai n de.
[Well, sometimes one or two words, but he said he understands if he heard
(Spanish), but he does not speak much.]
After his best friend, the Dominican boy, and the Bangladesh student had transferred out
of school, Rokuro had attended the Japanese tutoring sessions with a Filipino student.
Therefore, he did not have the opportunity to speak Spanish even in the comfortable
boundaries of Japanese tutoring sessions. Moreover, Rokuro did not have the intention or
desire to do so, claiming to not know his classmate’s national origin.
Ngoc seemed to have even less opportunity to speak her home language in
kokusai class. She attended the class with her classmate who was Laotian, and they were
tutored separately. Therefore, her teacher, Ms. Sato, has never heard her speak the
language, and only Japanese was spoken in class. Even though there are kokusai class
teachers who speak students’ home languages, including Vietnamese, these teachers were
only for students who were lagging behind, as in the following interview response.
でも全部のお子さんがその先生にお会いするっていうことはなくてね、や
っぱりまあ授業やってた中でちょっと遅れてるかなっていうお子さんで、
お家が全部、お家に帰ったらベトナム語っていうお家の場合には、やはり
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そちらの先生にいっしょに付いてもらったほうが理解できるかなっていう
ことで、一応その時間に子どもさんに来てもらってるっていう感じなんで
す。
Demo zenbu no oko-san ga sono sensei ni oai suru tte iu koto wa nakute ne,
yappari maa jugyō yatteta naka de chotto okureteru kana tte iu oko-san de, ouchi
ga zenbu, ouchi ni kaettara Betonamu-go tte iu ouchi no baai ni wa, yahari
sochira no sensei ni issho nit suite moratta hō ga rikai dekiru kana tte iu koto de,
ichiō sono jikan ni kodomo-san ni kite motratteru tte iu kanji nan desu.
[But not all children meet with these teachers, and obviously well those children
who seem to be a little behind in class, and those homes who speak all
Vietnamese when they go home, obviously they can understand better with those
teachers, so (we) have the children come on those times.]
Ngoc was evaluated as not needing such home language instruction, since she did not
have academic skills in Vietnamese.
Multicultural students in this study had very limited opportunity to use their home
language in kokusai class. At Taro’s school, the only person with whom Taro felt
comfortable interacting in Cambodian, Ms. Hidaka, was reserved for students with more
urgent needs. In other words, she was supposed to focus more on the newly arrived
students who did not navigate Japanese as well as them. Rokuro’s Japanese teacher, Ms.
Abe, had heard him speak only a few words of Spanish, similar to my observation at his
home. Ngoc attended her kokusai class with a Laotian boy, and did not meet with the
Vietnamese teacher who is in charge of instructing other students with higher home
language ability. Therefore, seemingly a potential scene for multicultural students’ home
language use, kokusai class remained to be a monolingual environment for these students.
This is in sharp contrast with Kanno’s (2008) observation of active use of “L1” in JSL
classroom at a school where language minority students were expected to return home
one day.
7.3 Language ideologies and attitudes observed in teachers’ interview responses
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School teachers had awareness and understandings towards foreign descent
children’s languages and cultures to different degrees. Most of them believed that mother
language maintenance was important, and in some cases made an effort to provide
opportunities for the students to speak their languages at school as in the following
excerpt from an interview response by Ms. Usui, Taro’s classroom teacher, when asked
about home language use in school.
はい、あまり。で、「話してね」ってお願いしたり、１回、各国集会って
いう集会を年に２回、それぞれの国ごとに、１年生から６年生までを集め
て、簡単に母国の文化に触れるっていう機会を持っているんですが、その
ときに「話していいんだよ」って言ったり***。なんかそういうふうな機
会があると話をしますが、会話はみんな日本語ですね。１度だけペルー集
会をやったときに、ペルーからほんと来たばっかりの子が参加したんです
ね。そのときには、ペルーのその日本語が話せない子と、日本語指導の先
生がスペイン語で話をしていると、周りの子たちも少しずつスペイン語を
使うっていうことありましたが、そうでない限りは、もうほんと日本語ば
かりですね。
Hai, amari. De, “hanashite ne” tte onegai shitari, ikkai, kakkoku shūkai tte iu
shūkai o nen ni nikai, sorezore no kuni goto ni, ichinensei kara rokunensei made o
atsumete, kantan ni bokoku no bunka ni fureru tte iu kikai o motte iru n desu ga,
sono toki ni “hanashite ii n da yo” tte ittari ***. Nanka sō iu fū na kikai ga aru to
hanashi o shimasu ga, kaiwa wa minna Nihongo desu ne. ichido dake Perū shūkai
o yatta toki ni, Perū kara honto kita bakkari no ko ga sanka shitan desu ne. Sono
toki ni wa, Perū no sono Nihongo ga hanasenai ko to, Nihon-go shidō no sensei
ga Supeingo de hanashi o shiteiru to, mawari no kotachi mo sukoshi zutsu
Supeingo o tsukau tte iu koto arimashita ga, sō de nai kagiri wa, mō honto
Nihongo bakari desu ne.
[No, not much (mother languages heard). And we ask them, “Please speak,” and
once, there is an assembly called International Assembly twice a year, and
according to each country, first graders to sixth graders gather, and (everyone) has
an opportunity to experience mother country culture briefly, and at that time we
tell them, “You can speak (your mother language)” ***. If there are opportunities
like that they will speak, but conversations are all in Japanese. One time when we
had a Peruvian gathering, a child who really had just come from Peru participated.
That time, the Peruvian child who could not speak Japanese, and the Japanese
assistance teacher were speaking in Spanish, and then children around them also
used a little Spanish, however, unless there are occasions like that, (everyone)
really (speaks) all (in) Japanese.]
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Here the teacher’s belief that if you gather children with the same country of origin
together, they would start speaking their mother language at school was simply disproved.
Even with the teacher’s encouragement「話してね」“Hanashite ne.” [Speak] or
permission 「話していいんだよ」“Hanashite ii n da yo.” [You can (are allowed to)
speak], students did not speak their languages freely.
The school event and the teachers’ well intended attitudes to encourage students
to speak their home languages at school are noteworthy, and the discourse of the
importance of their language maintenance was repeatedly generated. However, Ms.
Usui’s responses display her ideology of Japanese school as a place where Japanese is the
only language spoken, and other languages are not “permitted.” She gave “permission” to
the students to speak their home languages on this special occasion called “International
Assembly.” However, educated daily in a monolingual environment where they were not
encouraged or “allowed” to speak their home languages, students could not easily switch
their means of communication just because they were assembled in one room, segregated
from all the other Japanese students. Against the teachers’ expectation, such artificial
context did not succeed in creating a multilingual environment, and promote
“internationalization” (Morita, 2002) in their school.
This seems to be the case at Ngoc’s school as well, where they had a similar event
called “International Week.” During this week, kokusai class students prepared a
presentation for the school, and taught some words in their home languages in front of the
audience. In the collected works of kokusai class students, there were a few photos from
this event one of which depicts the students holding posters with their languages written
in katakana. Under the photo it said,「ちょっと恥ずかしかったかな」“Chotto
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hazukashikatta kana.” [Was it a little embarrassing?], indicating that the audience and the
teachers sensed them feeling that way. In this manner, the teachers produced the
discourse of speaking their home language as an embarrassment, and reproduced it by
printing and distributing the collected works to students and teachers.
At Rokuro’s school where there were not enough foreign descent students to have
a kokusai class and there were no events to nurture students’ languages and cultures, Ms.
Ochi saw the advantages of having these students in her class through their progress in
the Japanese language as in the following except.
字も書けなかったのが書けるようになって、教科書もスラスラ読めるよう
になって、日直のスピーチもできるようになってっていうのを、やっぱり
見ていくと、「すごいね、がんばってるね」っていうふうになるので、子
どもたちも認めていますし、逆に日本人としてがんばろうっていう、「が
んばんないとやばいね」っていうようなところもあったと思うので、特に
彼らが文字を書けるようになってくると、あせりみたいなのがちょっと見
えてきて、いい意味で刺激になっていたと思います。
Ji mo kakenakatta no ga kakeru yō ni natte, kyōkasho mo surasura yomeru yō ni
natte, nicchoku no supīchi mo dekiru yō ni natte tte iu no o, yappari mite iku to,
“sugoi ne, gambatteru ne” tte iu fū ni naru node, kodomotachi mo mitomete
imasu shi, gyaku ni Nihonjin to shite gambarō tte iu, “gambannai to yabai ne” tte
iu yō na tokoro mo atta to omou node, toku ni karera ga moji o kakeru yō ni natte
kuru to, aseri mitai na no ga chotto miete kite, ii imi de shigeki ni natte ita to
omoimasu.
[(In the beginning,) they could not even write letters but now they can, they can
read the textbook fluently, and they can do the day duty speech (to announce the
beginning and end of a class), and obviously (other students) notice, and think
“Wow, amazing, they are working hard,” and so children recognize that, and on
the contrary, do their best as Japanese, and the Japanese students think “If we
don’t work hard we’ll be in trouble,” so especially when they started writing
letters, (Japanese students) start to show a kind of anxiety, so I think in a good
sense, they were stimulated.]
Ms. Ochi celebrated with the other Japanese students the progress these foreign descent
students had made with the Japanese language, without showing any concerns about their
home language maintenance.
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Ms. Ochi was genuinely happy to see Rokuro and other foreign descent students
making progress in Japanese, which the other Japanese students recognized as well. In
describing how the Japanese students felt about their progress, she seemed to be
displaying an ideology that the Japanese language belonged only to the Japanese people.
She explained that the students must do their best “as Japanese,” otherwise they would
“be in trouble.” In this case, “trouble” meant being surpassed by the foreign origin
students who did not own the Japanese language. She believed that the students were
feeling anxiety towards such power shift, where the foreign descent students did better
academically than themselves. As such, at Rokuro’s school, foreign descent students’
minority status was set, and they were not expected to do as well as the Japanese students.
In such a monolingual environment, their Japanese language development was the school
and the teachers’ only concern. Rokuro’s school was far from providing minority
language support (Vaipae, 2001).
On the other hand, Ngoc’s classroom teacher Ms. Tanaka saw both sides of the
coin. She believed that foreign descent students like Ngoc should continue kokusai class,
understanding the difficulties they would face as they get older in grade. At the same time,
“But I want them to acquire Vietnamese too. It is not good to be halfway. Many children
give up along the way.” Having experience with such children, Ms. Tanaka believed that
if they didn’t “give up” they would acquire their mother language, having no familiarity
with the difficulties of maintaining minority languages (Zentella, 1997). However,
kokusai class teachers sympathized more closely with these children. Especially, Taro’s
kokusai class teacher, Ms. Hidaka, could speak from her own experience of acquiring
Japanese as a second language on top of her mother language, Cambodian, as in the
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following excerpt from an interview response when asked about Taro’s Cambodian on
April 21, 2008.
だいじょうぶでしたね。ただまあ私が心配なのは、いっしょうけんめいカ
ンボジア語で家でしようとすると、逆に外でね、こうなんだろう、日本語
が分かんない部分も出てきたりするし、でも、ほっとくとほんとにカンボ
ジア語は、聞くだけで話せなくなっちゃう家庭が多いんですよ。だからほ
んとに両方とも、どれかを主にはっきりしてから、もう１つの言葉として、
どっちをメインにするかということですね。
Daijōbu deshita ne. Tada maa watashiga shimpai na no wa, isshōkenmei
Kambojiago de uchi de shiyō to suru to, gyaku ni soto de ne, kō nan darō, Nihongo ga wakannai bubun mo dete kitari suru shi, demo, hottoku to honto ni
Kambojiago wa, kiku dake de hanasenakunacchau katei ga ooin desu yo. Dakara
honto ni ryōhō tomo, doreka o omo ni hakkiri shite kara, mō hitotsu no kotoba to
shite, docchi o mein ni suru ka to iu koto desu ne.
[(His Cambodian) was okay. However, well what I worry is that if (they) try hard
(to use ) Cambodian at home, on the contrary outside (the home), like well, there
will be parts not understood in Japanese, however, if nothing is really done at
home, they will only be able to listen Cambodian and cannot speak. So really for
both (languages), (it’s important to) make it clear which is the main, and then as
another language (learn the second one), so it comes to which is the main.]
As a bilingual who had acquired Japanese as a second language to become the ‘main’
language, Ms. Hidaka understood the complexities of maintaining Cambodian while
surviving school in Japanese. Fortunately, children usually had their parents speaking the
mother language to them at home in Japan, the luxury Ms. Hidaka never had, losing her
parents in the war.
Ms. Hidaka’s language ideology most closely resonates with the recent theories of
second language acquisition and development, that the first language ability is important
for the second language development (Cummins, 1986). However, she indicated that
there is a choice of which language becomes the “main.” For the multicultural students,
the main language could be Japanese or their home language. She understood this process
of making one language the main one as a complex negotiation. If the parents “try
Cambodian hard at home,” the children will not understand Japanese fully. If “nothing is
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done,” they will “only listen and cannot speak,” in other words, become “passive
bilinguals.” In any case, this Cambodian teacher is indicating that this language decision
is a responsibility of the parents at home.
As in the following excerpt from an interview response by Ms. Abe, she imagined
how children acquired receptive skills of two languages from their parents at home.
こういうふうに両親がそういう会話状態なので、子どもは自然とその両方
を覚える。で、両方を聞いて分かる。ただ自分が話せない。書けない。で、
日本語となるとやはり、しゃべれてもまたなかなか書けないとかね、そう
いういろんな・・・。それを全部マイナスと考えるか、そこをどうにかプ
ラスにね、持っていければなって。だから六郎君のね、せっかくそのご両
親がスペイン語で話をしてくれる、彼はまだ今んとこあんまりしゃべれな
くても、そういう環境にいるということを、今度どうプラスに向けるか、
それも１つ大きい課題かなっていう。神奈川では母語保持っていうのを少
しずつ考え始めてはいるらしいですけど、うん。まだまだ。
Kō iu fū ni ryōshin ga sō iu kaiwa jōtai na node, kodomo wa shizen to sono ryōhō
o oboeru. De, ryōhō o kiite wakaru. Tada jibun ga hanasenai. Kakenai. De,
Nihon-go to naru to yahari, shaberetemo mata nakanaka kakenai toka ne, sō iu
iron na… Sore o zenbu mainasu to kangaeru ka, soko o dōnika purasu ni ne,
motte ikereba na tte. Dakara Rokuro-kun no ne, sekkaku sono go-ryōshin ga
Supein-go de hanashi o shite kureru, kare wa mada imantoko ammari
shaberenakutemo, sō iu kankyō ni iru to iu koto o, kondo dō purasu ni mukeru ka,
sore mo hitotsu ōkii kadai kana tte iu. Kanagawa de wa bogo hoji tte iu no o
sukoshi zutsu kangae hajimete wa iru rashii desu kedo, un. Mada mada.
[Parents’ conversations are like that (include two languages), so children naturally
learn both. And can understand both when heard. But they cannot speak
themselves. And (they) cannot write. And Japanese obviously, even if they can
speak, cannot easily write and such, so such various… You can consider all of
this negative, or try to make it somehow positive. So in the case of Rokuro, his
parents speak to him in Spanish, and even though he cannot speak it much now,
the fact that he is in such environment raises the question of how (we) can make
that positive, and that is one of the important questions. In Kanagawa, it seems
like they are starting to consider mother tongue maintenance little by little, but
yeah, (there’s) a long way (to go).]
Here, Ms. Abe stated that whether the fact that children learn two languages to some
degree at home was turned into a “negative” or a “positive” factor was her or the school’s
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responsibility, referring to a mother language maintenance effort being established in the
prefecture, which had not been conducted systematically in Japan (Yamamoto, 2000).
As Ms. Hidaka described multicultural children’s passive bilingualism, Ms. Abe
also understood her students only possessing receptive skills in their home language, and
described different levels of bilingualism in Japanese and another language, imagining
her own students. In explaining her and the school’s attempted to “make that positive,”
she displays her ideology that, in fact, they were negative aspects but must be regarded as
an asset. Next, she made a big leap by considering “mother tongue maintenance,” since
“mother tongue” ability which the students did not possess could not be maintained.
Therefore, “mother tongue maintenance” was a multilingual ideological prospect, and
what these children need was, perhaps, closer in function to a “home language as a
second language instruction,” or “heritage language” in traditional foreign language
classes (Kondo-Brown & Brown, 2008).
At Ngoc’s kokusai class, a different kind of effort was being provided by teachers
who speak the students’ mother languages. As in the following excerpt from an interview
response by the second kokusai class teacher at Ngoc’s school, the purpose of having
students’ mother language speakers was to translate academics into their languages for
those students whose Japanese was not proficient enough to understand the subjects,
taking on the characteristics of transitional bilingual education (Kanno, 2008).
母語で、向こうの言葉でこう訳して、できるまではね、やっぱりそのほう
が早いですよね。でもだんだん向こうの言葉も忘れちゃいますよね。当然。
だから中国語の子も、話はできるけど、もう辞書、日中辞典っていうのあ
りますよね。日本語と中国、もう読めなくなってきちゃうんですよね。日
本語が入る、もちろんそうですよね。バイリンガルにならないんです、う
まくね。どっちかにやっぱり偏って、入ってくれば向こう側に行っちゃう
っていう感じで。
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Bogo de, mukō no kotoba de kō yaku shite, dekiru made wa ne, yappari sono hō
ga hayai desu yo ne. Demo dandan mukō no kotoba mo wasurechaimasu yo ne.
Tōzen. Dakara Chūgokugo no ko mo, hanashi wa dekiru kedo, mō jisho,
Nicchūjiten tte iu no arimasu yo ne. Nihongo to Chūgoku, mō yomenakunatte
kichaun desu yo ne. Nihongo ga hairu, mochiron sō desu yo ne. Bairingaru ni
naranain desu, umaku ne. Docchi ka ni yappari katayotte, haitte kureba
mukōgawa ni icchau tte iu kanji de.
[In mother language, (they) translate in their language, until (they) can, and
obviously it is faster that way. But gradually their language will be forgotten, of
course. So the Chinese child also can speak, but already dictionary, there is a
Japanese-Chinese dictionary. Japanese and Chinese, (they) cannot read any more.
Japanese comes in, of course, it is the case (that they will forget how to read in
Chinese). (They) do not become bilinguals easily. Obviously one or the other is
unbalanced, like if one comes in, the other goes out from the other side.]
Here, clearly, having students’ mother language speakers as teachers was not for their
language maintenance but to aide their learning of the subjects. However, she admitted
that this gradually became difficult as the students started to forget their mother language.
In her evaluation, they did not become bilinguals because they “cannot read any more.”
To resolve this problem, she asked the parents for cooperation as in the following excerpt.
そうです。で、今親御さんがやってるのは、家では母語で話しかけるって
いうことをね、お願いしてるんですよね。でも子どもがたぶん拒否してる
んですね。分からないから。じゃないと文化も忘れていっちゃうし、やっ
ぱり母語は大切なので、できれば母語でってお願いしてるんですけど、そ
のへんがね。ゴックちゃんちがどうなんだか分からないんですけど。
Sō desu. De, ima oyago-san ga yatteru no wa, uchi de wa bogo de hanashikakeru
tte iu koto o ne, onegai shiteru n desu yo ne. Demo kodomo ga tabun kyohi
shiterun desu ne. Wakaranai kara. Janai to bunka mo wasurete icchau shi,
yappari bogo wa taisetsu na node, dekireba bogo de tte onegai shiterun desu kedo,
sono hen ga ne. Gokku-chan chi ga dō nan da ka wakaranain desu kedo.
[That’s right. And now what the parents do is, we encourage them to speak in
their mother language at home. However children perhaps refuse to do that.
Because (they) don’t understand. Otherwise (if they don’t speak their mother
language), their culture also will be forgotten, and obviously their mother
language is important, so if possible (we) ask them to speak in their mother
language, but that is… I’m not sure how Ngoc’s home is...]
Even though she did not have a clear idea of how much mother language children spoke
at home, as in the word「たぶん（拒否してる）」“tabun (kyohi shiteru)” [perhaps
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(refuse)] indicates, and as she admitted she did not know how it was at Ngoc’s home, she
relied and reproduced the “mother language is important” discourse (Cummins, 1986),
and recommended that they spoke the language at their homes.
Compared to Taro’s Cambodian teacher, Ms. Hidaka, who understood the
complexities of developing a home language different from the language of instruction at
school, Ngoc’s school teacher was a little too optimistic about children’s “mother
language” maintenance at home. She believed that if the parents “speak in mother
language” at home, children will learn the language, and perhaps become “bilingual.”
However, her ideology of bilingualism was a challenging concept to aim for. She
displayed her belief of a “bilingual” as someone who could speak and read two languages
equally well. She described how “Japanese comes in,” and the other language “goes out
from the other side.” In her idea of bilingualism, these students’ languages are
“unbalanced,” and they “do not become bilinguals,” developing subtractive bilingualism
(Lambert, 1975).
From the above teacher’s interview responses on foreign origin students’
languages, different shades of grey can be observed in their beliefs and ideologies about
monolingualism, multilingualism, and language learning. Their attitudes and beliefs was
a reflection of their personal experiences, school policies, and urgencies. At Taro’s
school, from their own experiences, as a kokusai class teacher and as a Cambodian
refugee, they valued the maintenance of the students’ mother languages. At Rokuro’s
school where foreign descent students were the true minorities, his classroom teacher
celebrated the students’ progress in Japanese, but showed no concern about their mother
language development. At Ngoc’s school, the teachers’ belief in mother languages was
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for the benefit of learning the academic subjects. On the contrary to their well intentioned
beliefs, the reality was not as easy as it seemed. Taro’s school teacher struggled to
encourage their students to speak their mother languages. Ngoc’s school provided mother
language translations for those students who were starting to forget their languages.
Especially for students such as Rokuro who were not proficient in their mother language,
the question arose as to what role his mother language can play on his overall
developments. From her experience, Ms. Abe raised awareness of such students as
follows.
よく、もう話せるとか聞けるとかね、そういうことでもうこの子はまった
く日本人と変わらないんだっていうふうに思ってしまいがち。だけどそう
ではなくて、あとアイデンティティの問題もありますから、やっぱりペル
ーっていう国を大事にする気持ちも、彼の中で持ち続けてほしいから、や
はり日常接する担任なり学年の先生方が、やっぱりそこはずっと意識して
持っていてほしいなと思います。
Yoku, mō hanaseru toka kikeru toka ne, sō iu koto de mō kono ko wa mattaku
Nihonjin to kawaranain da tte iu fū ni omotte shimai gachi. Dakedo sō de wa
nakute, ato aidentitī no mondai mo arimasu kara, yappari Perū tte iu kuni o daiji
ni suru kimochi mo, kare no naka de mochi tsuzukete hoshii kara, yahari nichijō
sessuru tannin nari gakunen no sensei-gata ga, yappari soko wa zutto ishiki shite
motte ite hoshii na to omoimasu.
[One tends to think that when a child can speak or understand well, then the child
is exactly the same as the Japanese. But that is not the case, and there is an issue
of identity, and so of course I want him to keep on valuing the country Peru,
within himself, so of course for the classroom grade teachers who have contact
daily, of course I want them to be aware of that all the time.]
As such, teachers’ respects toward students’ languages and cultures was apparent in most
cases. However, their idea of multilingualism was surrounded by the hard reality of
monolingualism, and it surely was a difficult shell to break---a shell of “hegemonic
language ideologies which demand homogeneity” (Pavlenko & Blackledge, 2003, p. 27).
7.4 Conclusion
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Multicultural children in this study were adjusted into Japanese public elementary
schools fairly well, even though they showed some difficulties in academics such as
kokugo. Rokuro and Ngoc were adapted so well that they did not seek opportunities to
speak their home languages at school. In fact, they would rather not speak their languages
there. On the other hand, Taro, eager to maintain his Cambodian, tried to take full
advantage of having a Cambodian teacher in his classroom. Teacher’s attitudes toward
children’s languages varied depending on their beliefs, experiences, and the size of
foreign origin students in their school. Rokuro’s school, where foreign origin students
were clearly a small minority, celebrated their Japanese language development with no
concern of their home language maintenance. Ngoc’s school provided students’ home
language assistance for the purpose of keeping up with academics. Taro’s school, with
the largest population of foreign origin students, organized events to promote home
language use and maintenance. In such environments with different degree of
multiculturalism, students appropriately positioned themselves by taking on their
“imposed identity” (Pavlenko & Blackledge, 2003) as expected in their respective
schools and classroom community.
The discourse of minority students’ mother tongue being important for their L2
literacy or identity development was commonly heard from teachers. Therefore, no
teacher would advise their parents to speak to their children in Japanese at home, for
instance. On the contrary, kokusai class teachers advised the parents and children to
speak their own languages at home for maintenance, so that they don’t have to struggle
with their identity issues (Nakajima, 1998). However, this well intentioned advice and
assistance did not go beyond the framework of monolingualism, and teachers had no
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choice but to evaluate these students as “half-way, and not bilinguals.” In this manner,
school and teachers’ ideologies were produced in such discursive practices in the form of
discourses (Fairclough, 1992), and shaped language policies (Ricento, 2000) of
multicultural students, and impacted teaching and school practices (Ramanathan, 2005;
Timm, 2005).
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CHAPTER EIGHT
MULTICULTURAL CHILDREN’S IDENTITIES
Multicultural children who were born in Japan had a strong affiliation with Japan,
and they all spoke Japanese comfortably as their own language. However, this did not
mean that they did not possess multiple identities, as all speakers have multiple identities.
In fact, they all expressed their multicultural identities to different degrees, especially at
home. In addition, children struggled to come to terms with their identities when they had
to choose one over the other. Being involved in my research study and being asked about
their identities provoked them to think critically about themselves. They had never been
asked such questions, and had never thought about who they were. The question of
identity is difficult to answer even for upper grade students in elementary school
(Schecter & Bayley, 1997). Lastly, their identities change and develop over time. In this
chapter, I exemplify negotiation of identities (Pavlenko & Blackledge, 2004) that takes
place every day in the children’s multilingual contexts, and show that the children’s
identities are multiple, sites of struggle, and change over time (Weedon, 1987), focusing
on specific issues they face as children of foreign origin.
8.1 Heritage and Japanese (Multiple)
The children in this study were happy to express their multiple identities, when
they were capable of doing so. There were three ways in which they displayed
multilingual and multicultural identities. Firstly, they spoke their home languages,
Cambodian, Spanish, and Vietnamese, to show their multilingual identities. Secondly,
they talked about their (parents’) country of origin to express their multicultural identities.
The topics of these conversations about their culture ranged from food and music to
269
animals. Since the families showed their gratitude to the volunteer tutors by providing
food, food was a frequently discussed topic. In addition, the children enjoyed their
heritage cuisine in a regular basis. Thirdly, some of them showed their multiple identities
by participation in community-related events and by their behavior.
8.1.1 Multicultural children’s identities and their home languages
The children in this study used their home languages minimally, but when they
did so, they chose “negotiable identities” (Pavlenko & Blackledge, 2004), which were
negotiated or resisted by reflexive positioning (Davies & Harré, 1990). When the
Japanese tutors entered their homes, opportunities were provided to use their home
languages to negotiate a language expert role. Without the Japanese tutors at home, such
multilingual identity was an “assumed identity” (Pavlenko & Blackledge, 2004), which
was accepted and not negotiated among the family members. At other times, they resisted
using their home languages when they were interactively positioned (Davies & Harré,
1990) as a foreigner who spoke a “foreign” language. Therefore, options that are
acceptable for and not negotiated by one individual may be resisted by another or even
the same individual at a different point in time. As the children repeatedly engaged in
such negotiation of identities, their negotiable identities settled as assumed identities as
the group or the child began to accept their positioning. Here, such negotiation by the use
(or non-use) of their home languages will be discussed.
As described in Chapters Five, Six, and Seven, Taro did not hesitate to express his
Cambodian identity by speaking the language in front of Japanese people at home or at
school. His Cambodian proficiency was not fully developed, and he was observed to have
receptive skills and speaking in one word utterance, or in a few stretches of sentences.
270
When I was tutoring Botum, Taro’s mother, he played the role of a language broker by
trying to explain in Cambodian a word his mother did not understand in Japanese. He
also expressed his understanding of Cambodian by translating what his parents had said
into Japanese for me. He was eager to teach me Cambodian too. On January 24, 2008,
Botum served me a steamed bun with meat inside. Taro taught me how to say it in
Cambodian. He suggested that I take note of this and said,「ノートに書けば？」“Nōto
ni kakeba?” [Why don’t you write in your notebook?], as they were discussing what to
cook for us for dinner. Most exceptionally, he openly spoke Cambodian at school to his
kokusai class teacher, Ms. Hidaka. Taro’s father, Ryo, fully encouraged his language
maintenance, and considered the Cambodian language an important part of his children’s
identities. When asked what they would lose if they forgot Cambodian, he responded
immediately, 「アイデンティティ」“aidentitī” [identity]. Taro’s sister, Mealea,
resonated with their father in the importance of Cambodian, and described losing their
language as 「この世の終わり」“kono yo no owari” [the end of the world]. As such,
Taro is encouraged and is expected to display an “assumed identity” as a Cambodian
speaker at home. However, when the Japanese tutor enters his home, or when he is at
school, he additionally feels the need to, or wants to negotiate his identities by reflexively
positioning himself as a user of the Cambodian language.
Rokuro was less eager to display his Peruvian identity by speaking Spanish in
front of the Japanese tutors at home or at school. His Spanish proficiency was at the
minimal level. However, he was observed to have receptive skills and uttered single
words in Spanish. He felt most comfortable speaking his home language to his family and
friends who spoke very little Japanese or no Japanese at all. When his relatives visited to
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help the family with their chicken catering business, Rokuro used offensive names to call
them in a few different manners in Spanish while working on filling up the small bottles
with chili mayonnaise sauce. He also called his mother, Calista, using a few different
Spanish expressions, when he was angry at her. When I asked him what he had said, he
did not want to explain it to me, and instead passed on the task to Calista,「ママ、説明
したら？」“Mama, setsumei shitara?” [Mom, why don’t you explain?] Calista ignored
him. However, at school, he did not reveal his multilingual identity even to his best friend
from the Dominican Republic by speaking Spanish to him. Even if Rokuro’s seemingly
monolingual identity was multiple and negotiated, sometimes by the non-use of his home
language, his father, Vasco, hoped Rokuro would see Peru for himself and then choose
one identity, or “imposed identity,” as will be discussed further below.
Among the three, Ngoc was most capable of expressing her Vietnamese identity
by speaking the language. Her Vietnamese was functional, and she was often observed to
interact with her family members in her home language. However, she was not as
enthusiastic about her home language as Taro, who eagerly tried to teach me Cambodian.
When I asked her to teach me Vietnamese, she responded without hesitation,「やだ！」
“Yada!” [No way!] However, she did not refrain from speaking Vietnamese during the
tutoring sessions at home. When her friend, Nhu did not understand math, she tried to
help her by saying numbers in Vietnamese. This did not help Nhu and she said
desperately,「わかんない！」“Wakannai!” [I don’t understand!] Ngoc’s other friend,
Thuy was surprised, 「え、ベトナム語、わかんない？ベトナム人じゃないの？」
“E? Betonamu-go, wakannai? Betonamu-jin ja nai no?” [What, you don’t understand
Vietnamese? You’re not Vietnamese?] This was quite a harsh accusation. However, for
272
them, being Vietnamese meant speaking the language. However, similar to Taro’s case,
Ngoc’s “assumed identity” as a Vietnamese speaker becomes negotiable once the
Japanese tutor entered her peer community. The only difference compared to Taro is that
she refused to position herself as a Vietnamese language expert who was willing teach
the language to the Japanese tutor, a similar reflexive positioning Rokuro chose for
himself.
As such, multicultural children’s “assumed identities” become negotiable through
language in multilingual contexts. Taro’s assumed identity as a Cambodian speaker in
front of his family must be negotiated during the Japanese tutoring sessions or at school
when he is positioned as a novice language learner. Rokuro’s assumed identity as a
Spanish speaker in the realm of his family and acquaintance is negotiated into the other
direction in front of the Japanese tutor, rejecting to be positioned as a language mediator.
Ngoc similarly refused to play a language expert role to the Japanese tutor, and
negotiated her positioning. Therefore, children’s assumed identities at one point of time
and circumstance, turned into “negotiable identities” once they were involved in
multilingual contexts (Pavlenko & Blackledge, 2004).
8.1.2 Multicultural children’s cultural identities
In addition to displaying their identities through use or non-use of their home
languages, the children in this study expressed their cultural identities by talking about
their (parents’) country of origin. The topics of these conversations about their country
and culture ranged from food and music to animals. Since the families’ way of showing
appreciation to the volunteer tutors was to serve meals or snacks, food was the most often
discussed topic. In fact, the children routinely ate their heritage cuisine daily and they
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loved it. Finally, some of them showed their multiple identities by participating in
community-related cultural events and by their behavior. Particularly, events such as the
New Year’s party provided opportunity for the children to be immersed in their cultural
traditions and behaviors. In this section, such cultural behaviors and identities displayed
by the children will be discussed.
Taro’s cultural identities
Taro ate Cambodian food daily, and he had taught me,「くさくないと、おいし
くない」 “Kusakunai to, oishikunai.” [If it’s not stinky, it’s not tasty.] Often times when
I arrived at his home in the evening, he was finishing up his dinner in front of the TV in
the living room. Therefore, the strong fishy smell of Cambodian food filled the room.
Taro’s mother, Botum was apologetic,「先生、くさいでしょ？」“Sensei, kusai
desho?” [Teacher, isn’t it smelly?] However, Taro did not care if it was unpleasant for
me. When I asked Ryo, Taro’s father for an interview, he also invited me to stay for
dinner,「じゃ、食事、一緒にしましょう。おいしいかどうか分かりませんが」
“Ja, shokuji, issho ni shimashō. Oishii ka dō ka wakarimasen ga.” [Then, let’s have a
meal together. I don’t know if it’s tasty or not, but…] As I was telling him I am sure it
would be delicious, Taro made his ultimate request, 「くさいの作って」“Kusai no
tsukutte.” [Make something stinky.] Here, Taro negotiated his ‘stinky Cambodian food
lover’ as a positive one, rather than a negative one his mother and father tried to portray.
He also believed that food had something to do with the languages they spoke, as
in the following excerpt.
太郎：
お父さん、フランスのご飯食べてるからしゃべれる。フラン
スの料理とか食べれない。カンボジアの料理しか食べれない。
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[Taro:
筆者：
Hissha:
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
Otō-san, Furansu no gohan tabeteru kara shabereru. Furansu no
ryōri toka taberenai. Kambojia no ryōri shika taberenai.
Dad eats French meals, so he can speak (French). I can’t eat
French food. I can only eat Cambodian food.]
日本料理は？
Nihon ryōri wa?
How about Japanese food?]
食べれる。
Tabereru.
I can eat.]
Here, Taro pays his respect toward his father who speaks French, in addition to
Cambodian, Japanese, and English, and nicely positions himself as a Cambodian and
Japanese food consumer who has the potential of being able to speak two languages.
Taro certainly enjoyed talking about Cambodian food, and actively participated in
our conversations between Botum and myself on food. Botum usually served a cup of tea
and some sweets or Cambodian food for snacks for the tutors. On January 17, she served
some spring rolls. They were delicious, and I asked her what was in the roll. Botum could
not remember how to say it in Japanese, and asked Taro in Cambodian. Taro translated as,
「そうめん」“sōmen” [(Japanese) thin wheat noodles]. However, Botum disagreed,
「違う。ビーフン、ジャガイモ」 “Chigau. Bīfun, jagaimo.” [No. (Chinese) Rice
noodles, and potatoes.] Taro continued to list the ingredients,「にんじん！」“Ninjin!”
[Carrots!] Botum needed help to name another ingredient in Cambodian. Taro translated
eagerly,「豚の耳！」“Buta no mimi!” [Pig’s ears!] As soon as he found out that it was
not the equivalent, he shouted,「豚のおへそ！」“Buta no oheso!” [Pig’s belly!] and
rolled up his shirt to showed his own belly. Now it had become a game for him to find the
appropriate Japanese word. Botum laughed and explained to me,「カンボジア語で『ね
ずみの耳』。でも、野菜。先生、知ってる？」“Kambojiago de ‘nezumi no mimi.’
275
Demo, yasai. Sensei, shitteru?” [In Cambodian it is ‘Mouse’s ears.’ But, vegetable.
Teacher, do you know?] She went in the kitchen and took out a big bag out of the
cupboard to show me what they looked like. They looked like dried shiitake mushrooms
to me. In this manner, Taro engaged in food conversation between the mother and the
tutor, positioning himself as a Cambodian food expert, at the same time, enjoying his
game-like language brokering role. This became a routine social practice (Schecter &
Bayley, 2002), since now it had become Taro’s obligation to introduce Cambodian food
and cultures to the Japanese tutor.
The next week, on January 24, their neighbor visited to borrow Cambodian
karaoke DVDs from Botum’s rental collections. After he left with seven DVDs, I asked
Botum about all the new DVDs that her mother in Cambodia sent. She showed me a few
DVDs with various pictures on the cover, and explained to me what they were. There
were pictures of Cambodian food, noodles, crabs, eggs, and fruits and sweets I had never
seen before. There was also a picture of a black pepper tree, and as we were pointing that
out, Taro ran into the kitchen and brought back a bottle of black pepper to show me.
When Botum saw that, she exclaimed,「先生、知ってる！」“Sensei, shitteru!”
[Teacher knows!] However, for Taro ‘mouse’s ears’ and ‘black pepper’ which were both
used in his mother’s cooking were Cambodian food and ingredients a Japanese tutor was
not familiar with. And of course, he had to teach her what they were. As such, Taro
started to practice his Cambodian connoseiur identity, as an accepted and assumed one, to
educate the Japanese tutor on his culture.
Taro also had opportunities to express his Cambodian identity by participating in
parties and events organized for their community. At the ‘Gathering of Japan Resident
276
Refugees’ and at the New Year’s party, Taro wore a traditional Cambodian suit. He was
put on the stage to represent the Cambodian community, and to dance to the music. At
the New Year’s party, he helped to sell the Cambodian goods displayed on the table. He
also attended a sporadically offered Cambodian language maintenance class which was
taught by his mother, Botum. When Botum showed me a DVD about Cambodian
festivals, Taro watched together and participated in our conversations. The family also
sold Cambodian food at the train station on Saturdays, and Taro participated in this
business also, as in the following conversation when Botum asked me what I wanted to
eat for dinner.
筆者：
Hissha:
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
ボトム：
[Botum:
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
太郎君、何がおいしい。
Taro-kun, nani ga oishii?
Taro, what is good?]
コイティーュ、ノンチュンチュル。すごいおいしい。
Koitīyu, nonchunchru. Sugoi oishii.
Koitīyu, nonchunchru. Really good.]
土曜日の。
Doyōbi no.
On Saturdays…]
土曜日に売ってるんですか。
Doyōbi ni utterun desu ka?
Do you sell on Saturdays?]
俺たちが作って。駅の広場みたいなところあるじゃん。
Ore-tachi ga tsukutte. Eki no hiroba mitai na kotoro aru jan.
We make, and there is a square in front of the station.]
Again, Taro confidently gives his delicious Cambodian food recommendation to the tutor,
and positions himself as one of the chef who makes them, addressing himself and the
family as「俺たち」“ore-tachi” [we (casual)]. Here his choice of casual pronoun “ore”
gives an impression of him as a ‘grown up adult who can cook and sell Cambodian food.’
Through these food conversations, Taro became confident in displaying his now
277
“assumed identity” as a Cambodian food expert, and even claims the credits for making
them.
Rokuro’s cultural identities
Rokuro had told me on November 26, 2007,「僕日本で生まれたから、ペルー、
行ったことない」 “Boku Nihon de umareta kara, Perū itta koto nai.” [I was born in
Japan, so I’ve never been to Peru.] Therefore, his information on Peruvian culture was
mostly secondhand. On this day, Calista, Rokuro’s mother had served me a cup of tea and
panna cotta cake. She told me that they eat this cake for Christmas. Rokuro chipped in
and said,「ペルーでみんな好き」 “Perū de minna suki.” [In Peru, everybody likes it.]
I asked him where he got the cake, and that was when he told me he had never been to
Peru, and that he got it as a gift. However, Rokuro did not participate in food
conversations I had with his parents, Vasco and Calista, to the extent Taro did. Even
when Vasco showed us tutors his giant chicken grill he assembled on his deck, and when
Calista explained to me how to make the chili mayonnaise sauce to put on the chicken,
and when they invited me for a Peruvian lunch and dinner, Rokuro did not make any
contributions to this topic. As such, Rokuro negotiated his “assumed identity” to the
opposite direction to Taro. He did not claim any expertise in these food topics, on the
contrary, positioned himself reflexively as a “Japanese-born, who has no experience
living in Peru.”
Rokuro was more eager to talk about animals in Peru, namely the condors. On
March 29, 2008, when we read a Japanese folktale「鶴の恩返し」“Tsuru no ongaeshi”
[The Grateful Crane], he told me about a bird in Peru. Later, I realized that he was telling
me about the condors which inhabit in the Andes in South America. On April 12, 2008,
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we played katakana karuta game after studying. One card read,「コンドル、コンドル、
どこを飛ぶ？」‘Kondoru, kondoru, doko o tobu?” [Condor, condor, where do you fly?]
The matching card said,「コンドル飛ぶ国コロンビア」“Kondoru tobu kuni
Korombia.” [Condors fly in the country, Colombia.] However, Rokuro believed that
condors only existed in Peru, as in the following exchange.
六郎：
[Rokuro:
著者：
[Author:
六郎：
[Rokuro:
著者：
[Autor:
六郎：
[Rokuro:
コンドル見せて。コンドルってペルーしかいないところだよ。
Kondoru misete. Kondoru tte Perū shika inai tokoro day o.
Show me the condor. Condors are only in Peru.]
コロンビアにもいるんじゃない。
Korombia ni mo irun ja nai?
Aren’t they in Colombia too?]
コロンビアちっちゃいよ。ペルーのコンドル、こっからここ
のさ、切れてるところから、ここの外まで。
Korombia chiccai yo. Perū no kondoru, kokkara koko no sa,
kireteru tokoro kara, koko no soto made.
In Colombia, they are small. Peruvian condors (are big like) from
here, where it is cut, to out here.]
みた？
Mita?
Did you see them?]
みてないけど写真見た。見に行くんだ、岩の中で、すっごい
でかいやつがいるんだよ。何十年とか殺されたんだって、ち
っちゃいのは取れたけど、あれのほうがすごいよ。
Mitenai kedo shashin mita. Mi ni ikun da, iwa no naka de, suggoi
dekai yatsu ga irun day o. Nanjūnen toka korowaretan date,
chicchai no wa toreta kedo, are no hō ga sugoi yo.
I haven’t seen them, but I saw pictures. I’m gonna go see them. In
the rocks, there are really huge ones. For decades they’ve been
killed, I heard, little ones could be caught, but those were better.]
Even if they existed in Colombia, Rokuro believed the ones in Peru were bigger and
better. He repeated the same conversation when the same card appeared again, as in the
following short excerpt.
著者：
[Author:
コンドル、コンドル、どこを飛ぶ？まだ読みおわってないよ。
Kondoru, kondoru, doko o tobu? Mada yomi owatte nai yo.
“Condor, condor, where do you fly? I haven’t finished reading yet.]
279
六郎：
[Rokuro:
いくよ。コンドル飛ぶ国コロンビア。は、コロンビア？ペル
ーもいるんだって。ペルーすごいでかいんだよ。
Iku yo, Kondoru tobu kuni Korombia. Ha, Korombia? Perū mo
irun datte. Perū sugoi dekain day o.
Ready? “Condors fly in the country, Colombia.” Huh? Colombia?
They are in Peru too, I heard. In Peru they are really huge.]
In the first excerpt, Rokuro reflexively positions himself as an expert on condors which
only exists in Peru. His legitimacy as an expert is questioned by the tutor who asks, “did
you see them (with your own eyes)?” Even if he hasn’t seen them in real life, he attempts
to legitimatize his expertise by explaining that he has seen their pictures and he will go
see them in Peru, and avoids being interactively positioned as a novice in Peruvian
culture. In the second excerpt on the same day, he is not as confident as in the first
occasion, and levels him down admitting that his knowledge is second-hand, by saying “I
heard.”
Unlike Taro, Rokuro did not seem to have any opportunities to participate in
cultural events from his parents’ homeland. Therefore, he did not have chances to express
his multicultural identities in the way Taro did. Even in his behavior, there was no trace
of him having a Peruvian background. Ms. Ochi, Rokuro’s classroom teacher observed
her foreign origin students’ behaviors in her class as follows.
「ドミニカはこうなんだよ」とか、そういう感じではなかったんですけど、
ちょっとしたしぐさや叫び声などに向こうの性質が混じっていたというか。
*** 六郎君はいちばん話さないですね。ただ「ペルーは、ペルーは」って
言うんですけど、実際ペルーに住んだことがないので、大した情報じゃな
いんで、「そうなの？」みたいな。あんまり六郎君自体もペルーのことを
よく知らないようですし、うん。「お姉ちゃんはペルーで生まれたんだ
よ」とか、ペルーという単語を発音するんですけど、ペルーという国の情
報とかではない、うん。「ペルーにおばあちゃんがいるんだよ」とか、六
郎君自体もなんか聞いたことで、ほんとうに実際の体験とかではないこと
が多かったですね。
“Dominika wa kō nan da yo” toka, sō iu kanji de wa nakattan desu kedo, chotto
shigusa ya sakebigoe nado ni mukō no seishitsu ga majitte ita to iu ka. ***
280
Rokuro-kun wa ichiban hanasanai desu ne. Tada “Perū wa, Perū wa” tte iun desu
kedo, jissai Perū ni sunda koto ga nai node, taishita jōhō ja nai n de, “sō na no?”
mitai na. Ammari Rokuro-kun jitai mo Perū no koto o yoku shiranai yō desu shi,
un. “Onē-chan wa Perū de umareta n da yo” toka, Perū to iu tango o hatsuon
surun desu kedo, Perū to iu kuni no jōhō toka de wa nai, un. “Perū ni obā-chan
ga irun da yo” toka, Rokuro-kun jitai mo nanka kiita koto de, hontō ni jissai no
taiken toka de wa nai koto ga ōkatta desu ne.
[(The Dominican boy) “Dominica is this and that,” it was not like that, but in his
little behavior or shouting voice, foreign characteristics were mixed. *** Rokuro
talks the least. Even if he says “Peru is this…Peru is that…”, in reality he has
never lived in Peru, so they are not real information, so it’s like “Oh, really?”
Rokuro himself does not seem to know about Peru very well. “My sister was born
in Peru” or, he does say the word “Peru,” but it is not information on the country
Peru. “Grandma is in Peru” (is something he’d say) or something Rokuro himself
has heard, and they are mostly not his real experiences.]
At school, Rokuro seemed to have even less opportunities to express his cultural
identities, and perhaps, was less confident about his multiplicity. This could be speculated
from this teacher’s excerpt above, that he does not talk much about Peru, and even when
he does, his information on Peru is secondhand and “not his real experiences,” and was
considered “not real” and trivial by the teacher. If Rokuro’s teacher does not take his
personal knowledge seriously, he will be more inclined to display an “imposed”
monocultural identity at school. In this manner, Rokuro’s multiplicity became invisible
(Irvine & Gal, 2000) to others as he assimilated to the norm.
Ngoc’s cultural identities
Like Rokuro, Ngoc was not particularly interested in talking much about her
country. However, she had been to Vietnam twice, once when she was a baby, and
second time, when she was in kindergarten. And Vietnamese food was certainly a part of
her daily diet. Her grandmother who lived on the third floor cooked dinner every day for
the family, and when I visited the grandmother down stairs, the table was full of
Vietnamese food. On November 14, 2007, after we finished studying, Ngoc’s aunt, Cam
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brought out a Vietnamese noodle soup for me and the children. I asked Ngoc what the
dish was called. She responded in one word,「ファ」 “Pha” [Phở] without any further
explanations. Next week, after studying, Cam prepared a wonton soup, and Ngoc brought
it out for me. Unfortunately, I did not have time to stay and I just had a sip of the soup,
and left. From the following week, nothing was served. When the occasion arose, Ngoc
did say a few words on Vietnamese culture with Thuy. On October 24, 2007, we read a
book with a list of twelve animal signs from the Chinese and Japanese zodiac year. Ngoc
and Thuy were both born in the year of the rabbit, and they told me that in Vietnam, it
was a cat instead of a rabbit. As such, Ngoc’s engagement in topics about Vietnamese
culture is minimal, and she does not strongly display her multicultural identity, which is
her “assumed identity” in these cases, and does not have to be negotiated.
Ngoc had an opportunity to perform her Vietnamese identity at the International
week presentation at school. In this presentation, foreign descent students from kokusai
class performed a play, and introduced their languages on a stage in the gym. When I
asked the girls about this event in the interview on April 2, Ngoc, Thuy, Nhu, and Linh
commented on their experiences as follows.
筆者：
[Author:
ヌー：
[Nhu:
トイ：
[Thuy:
ゴック：
[Ngoc:
***
ヌー：
聞いた、その話、国際週間の話。
Kiita, sono hanashi, kokusai shūkan no hanashi.
I heard about it, about International week.]
誰に？
Dare ni?
From who?]
で、うちたちは、ベトナム語話したの。(（ささやき）)
De, uchitachi wa, Betonamugo hanashita no. ((Sasayaki))
And, we spoke Vietnamese. ((Whispers))]
ちょっと、ちょっと、それ、やだったよね。
Chotto, chotto, sore, ya datta yo ne.
A little, a little, it was unpleasant, wasn’t it.]
たぶん声が小さいんじゃない。
282
[Nhu:
トイ：
[Thuy:
筆者：
[Author:
ゴック：
[Ngoc:
筆者：
[Author:
リン：
[Linh:
ゴック：
[Ngoc:
Tabun koe ga chiisain ja nai.
Perhaps your voice is soft.]
違う！だったらゴックと一緒にしてるよ。
Chigau! Dattara Gokku to issho ni shiteru yo.
No! Then I would do it with Ngoc.]
やだった？
Ya datta?
It was unpleasant?]
一人でや。一人で。
Hitori de ya. Hitori de.
Unpleasant by myself, by myself.]
ゴックちゃん、一人でやったんだ。
Gokku-chan, hitori de yatta n da.
Ngoc, you did it alone.]
一人ずつだけど。
Hitori zutsu dakedo.
One by one, but.]
あの、多いから、ベトナム人、だから。
Ano, ōi kara, Betonamujin, dakara.
Um, there are many, Vietnamese, so.]
When I told the girls that I had heard about the International week, Nhu wanted to know
from who I heard about this “secretive” event. Before I had a chance to explain that I had
heard it from the kokusai class teacher, Thuy reveals that they spoke Vietnamese in a
whispering voice as if they had done something embarrassing. Ngoc enforces that
negative feeling by explicitly commenting it as an unpleasant experience. Even though
this was a group presentation with many other fellow Vietnamese students, it was a rather
“embarrassing” experience for these girls, and perhaps they could not articulate well, as
Nhu commented on Thuy’s voice being “soft.” As discussed in the previous chapter, this
event was documented in the collected works of kokusai class students. In the collection,
these students are depicted as “embarrassed” speakers of their home languages. This
“imposed identity” at school becomes a little more negotiable at home as in the following
excerpt during an interview with Thanh, Ngoc’s younger brother.
283
筆者：
[Author:
タン：
[Thanh:
ゴック:
[Ngoc:
筆者：
[Author:
タン：
[Thanh:
ゴック：
[Ngoc:
筆者：
[Author:
ゴック：
[Ngoc:
筆者：
[Author:
ゴック:
[Ngoc:
日本人の前でベトナム語、話すこともある？
Nihonjin no mae de Betonamugo, hanasu koto mo aru?
Do you have occasions when you speak Vietnamese in front of
Japanese people?]
あるよ。
Aru yo.
Yes, I do.]
うちも xxx 。
Uchi mo xxx.
Me too xxx.]
あ、ゴックちゃんもあるの？
A, Ngoc-chan mo aru no?
Oh, you too, Ngoc?]
僕もある。
Boku mo aru.
Me too.]
この前、言ったでしょうが。
Kono mae, itta de shō ga.
I told you before.]
そうだったっけ。でも、恥ずかしいとか言ってなかった？
Sō dattakke. Demo, hazukashii toka itte nakatta?
Did you? But didn’t you say you were embarrassed?]
ううん。
Uun.
No.]
そんなことない？
Sonna koto nai?
That’s not the case?]
((無言))
((Silence))]
Here, Ngoc chips in during my interview with her younger brother, Thanh, and positions
herself in the same manner Thanh responded to my question. I took this opportunity to
clarify whether she felt ‘embarrassed’ to speak her home language at school, and she
attempts to position herself as a confident Vietnamese speaker in front of her brother. In
this manner, Ngoc had some room to negotiate her positioning at home, which seems to
be “imposed” at school.
8.2 Heritage or Japanese (Struggle)
284
As in the previous example, it became a struggle for the children when they were
singled out as “kokusai class students” at school, or when they had to choose one identity
over the other. Especially, some struggled to accept the other’s positioning as a
“foreigner” since the word「外人」“gaijin” [foreigner] has a negative connotation.
Sometimes, other people’s expectation of them as a ‘home language speaker’ became a
heavy burden for these children who are not proficient in these languages. In some cases,
they worked to negotiate their positioning to correct misconceived labeling. In addition,
being born and raised in a developed country like Japan, it was not easy for the children
to carry a positive image of their native countries, besides the fact that some of them had
little or no first hand experience of living in those countries. It was likely that they had
heard some negative things about their parents’ homelands, given the fact that they had
left all three countries under difficult circumstances.
8.2.1 Reflecting on their own positionings
Children’s struggles of choosing one identity over another were particularly
reflected in their interview responses on questions related to their identities. When I
asked the first simple question「国籍は？」“Kokuseki wa?” [What is your citizenship?],
I had intended it to be interpreted as a matter of fact, whether they had obtained Japanese
citizenship or not. However, not knowing what “citizenship” meant, they tried to answer
this question by choosing “Cambodian/Peruvian/Vietnamese” or “Japanese” as their
affiliation toward the country. Not having other means to describe their belongings
through the use of such terms as a hyphenated “Cambodian/Peruvian/ VietnameseJapanese,” they tried to choose one descriptor for themselves. These interview responses
are discussed in this section.
285
Taro’s interview responses
Even though my interview questions were interpreted as “A or B” questions, Taro
did not hesitate in making his choice, which was perhaps already made before I asked the
questions on April 3, 2008 below.
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
{Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
国籍って何？
Kokuseki tte nani?
What is “citizenship”?]
太郎君は、何人？
Taro-kun wa, nanijin?
What is your nationality?]
あー、カンボジア人。
A---, Kambojiajin.
Oh, Cambodian.]
カンボジア人なんだ。将来は？
Kambojiajin nan da. Shōrai wa?
You are Cambodian. What about in the future?]
将来って何？
Shōrai tte nani?
What is “future”?]
んー、太郎君が大人になったらどうなる？
N---, Taro-kun ga otona ni nattara dō naru?
Um, when you become an adult what will happen?]
どうなるってゆっても、ダンス、ダンス、すっごいダンスを
したい。
Dō naru tte yuttemo, dansu, dansu, suggoi dansu o shitai.
What will happen? Dance, dance, I really want to dance.]
あ、ダンスをする人になりたいの？でも、国籍は？
A, dansu o suru hito ni naritai no? Demo, kokuseki wa?
Oh, you want to become a dancer? But what about your
citizenship?]
国籍、カンボジア人。
Kokuseki, Kambojiajin.
Citizenship, Cambodian.]
All children did not understand the word or the concept「国籍」“kokuseki” [citizenship],
and a quick and easy way for me to rephrase the questions was to ask「何人？」
“nanijin?” what nationality?, even if they did not mean the same thing. Therefore, even
though Taro is a Japanese citizen, he said that he was Cambodian. Similarly, Taro’s
286
father, Ryo had obtained Japanese citizenship, but remained Cambodian in heart, as in the
following interview response on April 5, 2008.
（国籍は日本だけど、カンボジア人、外国人だと）そう思ってますよ。そ
うです。xxx 日本人と言っても認めてくれないと思います。日本語もあま
りうまくないし、顔を見ても、その、日本人じゃないと思いますね。話す
とすぐ分かるから、電話しても、自分もほんとに日本人だと、正式は、あ
の、書類の上は日本人だけれども、心のほうは自分のほうも xxx てないで
すよ。ええ。たとえば、あの xxx 日本人になれないですね。日本語も xxx
わかんないし、日本の文化とか、いろんな日本の社会とか xxx 日本文化と、
何とか、日本ということは分かんないですので恥ずかしいじゃないですか。
正式にはね、あの、書類のほうは日本人だけれども xxx。
(Kokuseki wa Nihon da kedo, Kambojiajin, gaikokujin da to) sō omottemasu yo.
Sō desu. xxx Nihonjin to ittemo mitomete kurenai to omoimasu. Nihongo mo
amari umaku nai shi, kao o mitemo, sono, Nihonjin ja nai to omoimasu ne.
Hanasu to sugu wakaru kara, denwa shitemo, jibun mo honto ni Nihonjin da to,
seishiki wa, ano, shorui no ue wa Nihonjin da keredomo, kokoro no hō wa jibun
no hō mo xxx tenai desu yo. Ee. Tatoeba, ano xxx Nihonjin ni narenai desu ne.
Nihon-go mo xxx wakannai shi, Nihon no bunka toka, iron na Nihon no shakai
toka xxx Nihon bunka to, nan toka, Nihon to iu koto wa wakannai desu node
hazukashii janai desu ka. Seishiki ni wa ne, ano, shorui no hō wa Nihonjin da
keredomo xxx.
[(Citizenship is Japan, but Cambodian, foreigner) I think. Yes. xxx even if I say
Japanese I think that will not be accepted. My Japanese is not very good, and
looking at my face, um, not Japanese.44 When I speak I’m identified quickly, even
when telephoning, (that) I’m really not Japanese, and officially, um, on
documents (I am) Japanese, but my heart myself is not xxx. For example, um xxx
cannot be Japanese. (I) don’t understand Japanese, and Japanese culture, and
various Japanese society, and xxx Japanese culture, as such, I don’t understand
about Japan so it is embarrassing. Officially, um, on documents Japanese, but
xxx.]
Ryo took the matter of claiming one’s nationality very seriously, and refused to accept
Japanese nationality in heart. Even his fluent Japanese was not good enough for him, and
he felt that not knowing Japan and the culture was “embarrassing,” the same word he
used to describe his children forgetting Cambodian, as “embarrassing.” Similarly, Taro
44
Ryo’s experience seems to contradict with my observation that Asians can pass as Japanese because of
their physiometric similarity (Kanno, 2004). In my view, his appearance could pass as Japanese, even
though his face is somewhat darker or deeper-featured, since so are many Japanese faces. Perhaps, his
experience of being discriminated in Japan made him more aware of his differences rather than his
similarities to the Japanese people.
287
positions himself as Cambodian, his “assumed identity” at home, but with a slight
hesitation because of his guilt of not being able to speak much Cambodian, as in the
following interview response from April 17, 2008, when asked about his nationality again
on a different day.
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
[Author:
カンボジア。
Kambojia.
Cambodia.]
カンボジア人。太郎君は外国人？
Kambojiajin. Taro-kun wa gaikokujin?
Cambodian. Taro, are you a foreigner?]
うん。だけど俺、日本で生まれた。
Un. Dakedo, ore, Nihon de umareta.
Yeah. But I was born in Japan.]
日本生まれの外国人なんだ。
Nihon umare no gaikokujin nan da.
You are a foreigner born in Japan.]
カンボジア、あまりしゃべれないけどね。
Kambojia, amari shaberenai ked one.
Cambodia, I can’t speak much, but.]
カンボジア語？
Kambojiago?
Cambodian?]
うん。だってママがさ、いっつも休むんだもん。
Un. Datte mama ga sa, ittsumo yasumu n da mon.
Yeah. Because mom, always cancels it.]
何を？
Nani o?
What?]
カンボジアの勉強。
Kambojia no benkyō.
Cambodian studying.]
あー、そっか。
A---, sokka.
Oh, I see.]
Even though he is naturalized as a Japanese citizen and has a name that can be Japanese,
he considers himself as Cambodian. When I interactively positioned him as “a foreigner,
but born in Japan,” he did not agree or disagree. Instead, his thoughts were on his being a
288
Cambodian, but one who “can’t speak much of the language.” As if questioning his
reliability of being Cambodian, he blames his mother for not holding the language
maintenance class regularly.
Rokuro’s interview responses
When asked about his nationality, Rokuro answers that he is “Peruvian” and he
wants to remain Peruvian, as in the following interview responses on March 29, 2008.
When I asked the question,「（国籍は）将来はどうなる？」 “(Kokuseki wa) Shōrai
dō naru?” [What will happen (to your nationality) in the future?], Rokuro does not
understand the word「将来」“shōrai” [future], and Yoko, his sister clarifies the meaning
for him.
よう子：
[Yoko:
筆者：
[Author:
よう子：
[Yoko:
六郎:
[Rokuro:
よう子：
[Yoko:
筆者：
[Author:
六郎：
[Rokuro:
筆者：
この先。
Kono saki.
From now on.]
うん。
Un.
Yes.]
これから、六郎君は日本人になりたいの、ペルー人になりた
いのって。
Kore kara, Rokuro-kun wa Nihonjin ni naritai no, Perūjin ni
naritai no tte.
From now, do you want to be a Japanese, or Peruvian?]
んー、ペルー人になりたい。
N---, Perūjin ni naritai.
Um…I want to be a Peruvian.]
ペルー人？へー((笑))。
Perūjin? He--- ((warai)).
Peruvian? Really ((laugh)).]
六郎君は、ずっとペルー人でいたいんだ。
Rokuro-kun wa, zutto Perūjin de itain da.
Rokuro, you want to be Peruvian forever.]
うん。
Un.
Yeah.]
ふーん。で。
Fu---n. De.
289
[Author:
バスコ：
[Vasco:
六郎：
[Rokuro:
Really. And.]
本当ですか？
Hontō desu ka?
Is that right?]
うん((笑))。
Un ((warai)).
Yeah ((laugh)).]
Perhaps, Rokuro had never thought of what would happen to him in the future, and had to
think for a moment,「んー」“N--- [Um…]” before answering clearly「ペルー人にな
りたい」“Perū-jin ni naritai.” [I want to be a Peruvian]. Yoko, who wants to change her
nationality to Japanese is surprised, and laughs with astonishment. Vasco, Rokuro’s
father, who also wishes him to become Japanese just like his sister, is also surprised to his
unexpected response. To Vasco’s clarification question, Rokuro insists on his decision
with an embarrassed laugh. Since my question rephrased by Yoko only gave Rokuro a
choice of being Japanese or Peruvian, he was forced to choose one identity over the other.
Soon Rokuro will learn that Japanese is the “imposed identity” his father and sister
expect him to take.
On April 5, Calista, Rokuro’s mother and Yoko explains to me why they think
Rokuro responded in the way he did above.
Calista:
よう子：
(In Spanish)
(Translates Calista’s Spanish) あたしは自分のことを日本人と
思ってて、六郎はこの前外国人、ペルー人っていったじゃな
いですか。親がそう教えてるんですよね。自分では日本人だ
と思ってるんだろうけど。ただなんか、いろんな子が日本で
生まれて自分のこと日本人だと思い続けてきて、学校いって
外国人って言われてショック受けた子がたくさんいるんです
よ。そういうショックに耐えられるように。
Atashi wa jibun no koto o Nihonjin to omottete, Rokuro wa kono
mae gaikokujin, Perūjin tte itta ja nai desu ka. Oya ga sō
oshieterun desu yo ne. Jibun de wa Nihonjin da to omotterun da rō
kedo. Tada nanka, ironna ko ga Nihon de umarete jibun no koto
Nihon-jin da to omoi tsuzukete kite, gakkō ni itte gaikokujin tte
290
iwarete shokku uketa ko ga takusan irun desu yo. Sō iu shokku ni
taerareru yō ni.
[Yoko:
I regard myself Japanese, but Rokuro said foreigner, Peruvian the
other day. Our parents are teaching that. He probably thinks
himself as Japanese. But many children born in Japan continue to
think themselves as Japanese, and when they go to school they are
called foreigners, and many of them are shocked. So that he can
resist such shock…]
筆者：
あ、そっか、なるほどね。
A, sokka, naruhodo ne.
[Author:
Oh, really, I see.]
カリスタ： それも問題ですね。
Sore mo mondai desu ne.
[Calista:
That is a problem too, isn’t it?]
Calista regards such Japanese children’s attitudes as problematic, claimed that they had
imposed a foreign Peruvian identity on Rokuro. She has one of her own family friends’
experiences to share and continued below.
Calista:
よう子：
[Yoko:
(In Spanish)
(Translates Calista’s Spanish)（知り合いの）大和が最初日本で
生まれて日本人だって自分のことずっと思いつづけてきたん
ですよ。小学校入って何年かして、外国人って言われるよう
になってショック受けて学校いかなくなっちゃったんですよ。
ずっと何日間だけですけど、でもやっぱショックがとても大
きかったようで、友達にそんなこと言われて、それをみてき
たから．．．。
(Shiriai no) Yamato ga saisho Nihon de umarete Nihonjin da tte
jibun no koto zutto omoi tsuzukete kitan desu yo. Shōgakkō ni
haitte nannen ka shite, gaikokujin tte iwareru yō ni natte shokku
ukete gakkō ikanakunacchattan desu yo. Zutto nannichikan dake
desu kedo, demo yappa shokku ga totemo ōkikatta yō de,
tomodachi ni sonna koto iwarete, sore o mite kita kara…
(Our acquaintance) Yamato was first born in Japan and he always
regarded himself as Japanese. When he started elementary school,
after a few years, he was started to be called a foreigner and he was
shocked, and he avoided going to school. This lasted just a few
days, but obviously he was deeply hurt, by being told such a thing
by his friend(s). So since we’ve seen that…]
Calista wanted Rokuro to avoid such experience as Yamato, who was positioned by his
school friends as someone he did not believe himself to be, a “foreigner.” If Rokuro
291
accepted the interactive positioning as a “foreigner,” an “imposed identity” at school, he
will not be shocked by such incidents. At least, that was what Calista wanted, to prepare
Rokuro for being attacked on his vulnerable identity.
Ngoc’s interview responses
The group interview conducted on April 2, 2008 with the Vietnamese girls
reflects their tight and large community. Ngoc, Thuy, Nhu, and Linh all responded to my
interview questions, taking turns, sometimes in chorus, influencing each others behaviors.
筆者：
[Author:
トイ：
[Thuy:
みんな：
Minna:
[All:
筆者：
[Author:
みんな：
[All:
筆者：
[Author:
みんな：
[All:
筆者：
[Author:
トイ：
[Thuy:
筆者：
[Author:
みんな日本生まれ？
Minna Nihon umare?
You were all born in Japan?]
でもベトナム人なんだよね。
Demo Betonamujin nan da yo ne.
But Vietnamese, right?]
うん。
Un.
Yeah.]
国籍はベトナムなんだ。
Kokuseki wa Betonamu nan da.
Your nationality is Vietnam.]
ベトナム。
Betonamu.
Vietnam.]
みんなそうなの？
Minna sō na no?
All of you are Vietnamese?]
うん。
Un.
Yeah.]
ふーん。
Fu---n.
I see.]
うちのママだってベトナムだもん。
Uchi no mama datte Betonamu da mon.
‘Cus my mom is Vietnam too.]
ママも国籍はベトナムなの。
Mama mo kokuseki wa Betonamu na no.
Your mom’s country of citizenzship is Vietnam too?]
292
They all had the same background of being born in Japan, but were still citizens of
Vietnam. In this situation, it is easy for them to co-construct their “assumed identity” as
Vietnamese. However, when asked「将来、国籍はどうする？」“Shōrai, kokuseki wa
dō suru?” [In the future, what will you do with your citizenship?] the girls did not
understand the question, except Linh who was the oldest of the four, and explained the
concept to everyone in her own words and understanding.
リン：
[Linh:
トイ：
[Thuy:
リン：
[Linh:
ヌ：
[Nhu:
リン：
[Linh:
ゴック：
[Ngoc:
リン：
[Linh:
トイ：
[Thuy:
リン：
[Linh:
ゴック：
[Ngoc:
あのね、苗字とか名前とかを日本にするの。
Ano ne, myōji toka namae toka o Nihon ni suru no.
Well, you change your surname or name to Japanese.]
うち、したい。
Uchi, shitai.
I want to do that.]
いまは、いまは、あれ、ガオだけど。
Ima wa, ima wa, are, Gao dakedo.
For now, for now, um, Gao, but.]
ガオ・ゴック((笑))。
Gao Gokku ((warai)).
Gao Ngoc ((laugh)).]
だけど、あの、将来。
Dakedo, ano shōrai.
But, um, in the future.]
日本！
Nihon!
Japan!]
日本？日本だと、あの、なんか、変えるの、変えるの名前
を？
Nihon? Nihon da to, ano, nanka, kaeru no, kaeru no namae o?
Japan? If Japan, um, like, change, change your name?]
うち、変える。
Uchi, kaeru.
I will change.]
なんか、どっかに行って、どっかに行って。
Nanka, dokka ni itte, dokka ni itte.
Like, go somewhere, go somewhere.]
いい、ベトナムで、ベトナムでいい。
Ii, Betonamu de, Betonamu de ii.
No, Vietnamese, Vietnamese is fine.]
293
Linh understands getting a Japanese citizenship as changing one’s name, and she herself
「とるかもしんないし、とんないかもしんない」“toru kamo shinnai shi, tonnai
kamo sinnai.” [might or might not get] Japanese citizenship. Linh takes Ngoc’s name as
an example, and Nhu pronounces Ngoc’s full name, and laughs. Ngoc decides at that
moment that she will change her name to Japanese. However, when Linh further explains
that you had to “go somewhere” for the process, she immediately changes her mind and
decides to “settle” with a Vietnamese name, “Vietnamese is fine.” In this particular short
exchange, Ngoc was challenged to negotiate her future identity as someone holding a
Japanese name or a Vietnamese name, using Linh’s interpretation. Without knowing that
nowadays one does not have to change one’s name to a Japanese sounding one in order to
obtain citizenship, even Ngoc’s future identity becomes “negotiable” in this situation.
As their country of citizenship did not mean anything to them, they could not
articulate what it means to be “Vietnamese.”
筆者：
[Author:
ゴック：
[Ngoc:
リン：
[Linh:
みんな：
[All:
筆者：
[Author:
みんな：
[All:
リン：
ベトナム人ってなに？
Betonamujin tte nani?
What is Vietnamese?]
えーわかんない、リンちゃん、どうぞ。
E---wakan nai, Lin-chan, dōzo.
Huh? I don’t know. Linh, go ahead.]
ベトナム人って何？普通の国。
Betonamujin tte nani? Futsū no kuni.
What is Vietnamese? Regular country.]
((笑))国だよ、普通の。
((warai)) Kuni da yo, futsū no.
((Laugh)) Country, regular.]
じゃ、外国人って何？
Ja, gaikokujin tte nani?
Then, what is a foreigner?]
え？なにそれ？がいこく？((笑))
E? Nani sore? Gaikoku? ((warai))
What? What is that? “Foreign”? ((laugh))]
外国人は違う国とか。
294
[Linh:
筆者：
[Author:
リン：
[Linh:
筆者：
[Author:
リン：
[Linh:
Gaikokujin wa chigau kuni toka.
Foreigner is different country, and…]
違う国に住んでる人？
Chigau kuni ni sunderu hito?
Who lives in a different country?]
いろんな国があるから、その。
Iron na kuni ga aru kara, sono.
There are various countries, and…]
じゃ、日本人は？
Ja, Nihonjin wa?
Then, how about Japanese?]
え？日本人もうちらにとっては、外国人。
E? Nihonjin mo uchira ni totte wa, gaikokujin.
What? Japanese are also for us, foreigners.]
Ngoc immediately gives up the task, and passes it onto Linh who had proved to be the
most mature of the four by giving a definition of what it means to change citizenships.
For Linh, “Vietnamese” is related to the country “Vietnam,” where none of these girls,
including herself had never lived in. She gives a rather clear cut definition of the
terminology without any emotional or personal experiences attached to it. Similarly, she
explains that “Japanese are foreigners to us,” as if in the equal basis as “Vietnamese are
foreigners to Japanese.” Unlike being the only foreigner in a community, these girls were
a part of a tightly knit Vietnamese community in the apartment complex where they can
perhaps feel as a large significant minority group, if not the majority. In such
environment, Ngoc and the girls nuture their multiplicity and they openly negotiate their
positionality through my interview questions which could be considered as “underpinned
by implicit monolingual ideologies” (Pavlenko & Blackledge, 2004, p.27).
8.2.2 Interactive positioning
The above interview questions interactively positioned the children, and in
response, they responded reflexively. However, the staged nature of the interview
sessions created a completely different kind of interactions to the ones the children
295
encountered in every day lives. In the interviews, they were expected to give responses
reflecting on their own understandings of their positioning. In real life, interactions could
position one in an unexpected manner, and one could fail to exhibit agency to challenge
the interactive positioning. In this section, Taro’s experience of being positioned
interactively among his peers, and how that influenced his home language use is
introduced. Such significant instances were not observed and recorded in Rokuro and
Ngoc’s data.
Taro was disappointed when his friends in nursery school did not understand the
language he used with them. Ryo and Botum, Taro’s parents recall the days when he
came home and said「カンボジア語、話したくない」“Kambojiago, hanashitakunai.”
[I don’t want to speak Cambodian]’ as follows from the interview response on April 5,
2008.
リョウ：
[Ryo:
ボトム：
[Botum:
筆者：
[Author:
リョウ：
よくあるのは保育園に行ったときにたとえば、カンボジア語
話すと、子どもに、友達はえ？お前、何しゃべるの？わかん
ないよ。***
Yoku aru no wa hoikuen ni itta toki ni tatoeba, Kambojiago hanasu
to, kodomo ni, tomodachi wa e? omae, nani shaberu no? Wakan
nai yo. ***
Often times when he went to nursery school, for example, when he
spoke Cambodian, children, his friends, “What? What are you
speaking? I don’t understand”. ***]
xxxたらxxxカンボジア語のしゃべるから、でもね友達、何で
お前英語しゃべるの？((笑))
xxx tara xxx Kambojiago no shaberu kara, demo ne tomodachi,
nan de o-mae Ei-go shaberu no? ((warai))
xxx if xxx he speaks Cambodian, but his friends, “Why are you
speaking English?” ((laugh))]
子ども達は、外国語は英語だと思っているから。
Kodomotachi wa, gaikokugo wa Eigo da to omotte iru kara.
Because children think any foreign language is English.]
そう、だから結構友達が言われると恥ずかしいなるんです
ね。あまり話さないみたいですよ、カンボジア語。結構、こ
のことは（衝撃を）うけたらしいですよ、これは。
296
[Ryo:
Sō, dakara kekkō tomodachi ga iwareru to hazukashii narun desu
ne. Amari hanasanai mitai desu yo, Kambojiago. Kekkō, kono koto
wa (shōgeki o) uketa rashii desu yo, kore wa.
Yes, so really when told by his friends, he becomes embarrassed.
He does not seem to speak much Cambodian. It seems like this
was really shocking.]
Not only did Taro’s friends question his multilingual identity by asking “Why?,” but they
asked the wrong question “Why are you speaking English?” By being interactively
positioned as an “uncomprehensible English speaker,” he had no power to negotiate his
positioning. This incident discouraged Taro to further speak Cambodian and express his
identity. After he started elementary school, on April 17, 2008 I asked him if he speaks
the language at school. He responds as follows.
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
いつも学校で日本語で話す？
Itsumo gakkō de Nihon-go de hanasu?
Do you always speak Japanese at school?]
うん。
Un.
Yeah.]
学校でカンボジア語で話すこともある？
Gakkō de Kambojiago de hanasu koto mo aru?
Are there times when you speak Cambodian at school too?]
えー、話さないよ。
E---, hanasanai yo.
Whaat, I don’t speak (it).]
愛美ちゃんとは？
Aimi-chan to wa?
What about with Aimi?]
えー、話す。
E---, hanasu.
Well, I speak it.]
何語で？
Nanigo de?
In what language?]
カンボジア語で。
Kambojiago de.
In Cambodian.]
学校で？
Gakkō de?
297
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
At school?]
うん。***だって日本人カンボジア語わかんないもん。
Un. *** Datte Nihon-jin Kambojia-go wakan nai mon.
Yeah. *** ‘cause Japanese people don’t understand Cambodian.]
From his bitter incident in nursery school, he was socialized into a monolingual norm of
speaking only Japanese at school where students “don’t understand Cambodian.”
However, he acknowledged the right to speak Cambodian, and displayed his “assumed
identity” as Cambodian, to Aimi who was his Cambodian-Japanese classmate, although
their interaction was never observed at school when I visited.
8.2.3 Reflexive positioning as a “Japanese citizen”
Children’s “assumed identities” became subject to negotiation when they did not
want to be associated with the negative images of their parents’ home country, and they
reflexively positioned themselves away from such association. They had little or no
experience of seeing the parents’ home country with their own eyes, and when they did,
unpleasant aspects contrasted sharply with the convenient living in Japan. Parents’
description of their home country where they had fled enforced their negative images.
Even when they had fond memories of visiting their home country, they positioned
themselves as if they were going on a vacation as a “Japanese tourist,” rather than going
“home” to their country. In this section, such reflexive positioning as a “Japanese
resident” is discussed.
Taro’s reflexive positioning
Even though Taro had been to Cambodia a few times, and he「国とか大好き」
“kuni toka daisuki” [loved the country], he did not talk much about his experience there.
Perhaps he was too young to remember, and his memories were fragmented and short.
Heavy rain, many mosquitoes, noisy neighborhood, etc. On January 17, 2008, Botum was
298
telling me about her hometown Phnom Penh. She lived in a neighborhood surrounded by
karaoke bars, and it got very noisy in the evenings. Her neighborhood did not quiet down
until around 11:30, and「太郎がうるさいって」“Taro ga urusai tte” [Taro would say
‘noisy’]. On January 24, 2008, Botum was showing me one of the DVDs of her
hometown and the big festival on the Mekong River in November. She mentioned how
drastically her hometown has changed and she did not recognize many of the scenes.
Taro was watching the DVD together, and I made a comment that they did not have to go
home to Cambodia with these DVDs. Taro responded right away;「日本に住んでるん
だよ」“Nihon ni sunderun day o.” [(We) live in Japan.] For him, Japan was home, and
Cambodia was not the place for him to “go home.” Here, Taro claimed his legitimacy as
a resident of Japan, and negotiated his belonging to Japan. When asked where he wanted
to live in the future and why, Taro responded as follows in the interview on April 17,
2008.
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
将来は、どっちに住みたい？
Shōrai wa, docchi ni sumitai?
In the future, which do you want to live in?]
日本？
Nihon?
Japan?]
どうして？
Dōshite?
Why?]
え、おもちゃいっぱいあるから、お菓子とか。
E, omocha ippai aru kara, okashi toka.
Well, because there are a lot of toys, and snacks, and stuff.]
Taro imagined a comfortable and luxurious future in Japan with plenty of toys to play
with and snacks to eat, whereas his short experiences in Cambodia did not give him a
positive image for him to want to go back and live there in the future. However, he did
299
not speak ill of the home country of his parents, until he was asked about “Cambodian
people,” as in the following excerpt.
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
筆者：
[Author:
太郎：
[Taro:
どんな人？カンボジア人て言う？
Donna hito? Kambojiajin te iu?
What kind of people? Are called Cambodian?]
ひどい人。
Hidoi hito?
Horrible people.]
ひどい人？じゃ、日本人は？
Hidoi hito? Ja, Nihonjin wa?
Horrible people? Well, what about Japanese people?]
日本人は大丈夫。
Nihonjin wa daijōbu.
Japanese people are okay.]
じゃ、外国人は？
Ja, gaikokujin wa?
Well, what about foreign people?]
外国、ちょーひどい。
Gaikoku, chō--- hidoi.
Foreign countries, are suuuper bad.]
そうなんだ。
Sō na n da.
Oh, really.]
戦争とかするから。
Sensō toka suru kara.
Because they do war and stuff.]
あ、そういう意味ね。
A, sō iu imi ne.
Oh, that’s what you mean.]
だけどカンボジアは耐えれるぐらいの、あれ、ぐらいのひど
さ、がんばれる。え、カンボジア、ひどくないよ。
Dakedo Kambojia wa taereru gurai no, are, gurai no hidosa,
gambareru. E, Kambojia, hidokunai yo.
But Cambodia can be tolerated, um, can try harder. Well,
Cambodia is not bad.]
At first, he referred to Cambodian as “horrible people,” and foreign countries as worse
because “they do war.” However, in the end he changed his mind to try to defend his
country and said that “Cambodia is not bad.” Even if he loved his country, language, and
300
culture, he had very little means to defend his country in the above exchange. In this
manner, Taro reflexively positioned himself as a resident of Japan.
Rokuro’s reflexive positioning
On February 9, 2008, I brought a rather challenging kanji exercise sheet, and
Rokuro was sick of studying kanji. He said to himself,「はやくペルーに行きたいな」
“Hayaku Perū ni ikitai na.” [I want to go to Peru soon.] Then I would stop coming, and
he did not have to study kanji with me. This was when I found out about the family’s
planned visit back to Peru next February in 2009. As in the following interview responses
on March 29, 2008, in a way, Rokuro’s identity was already decided by his father Vasco.
筆者：
[Author:
六郎：
[Rokuro:
筆者：
[Author:
バスコ：
[Vasco:
筆者：
[Author:
バスコ：
[Vasco:
よう子：
[Yoko:
Vasco:
よう子：
行く、ペルー？
Iku, Perū?
Are you going, to Peru?]
行くよ。
Iku yo.
I’m going.]
いつ行くか知ってる？
Itsu iku ka shitteru?
Do you know when you are going?]
たぶん、来年ね。
Tabun, rainen ne.
Probably, next year.]
来年、行くんですか？
Rainen, iku n desu ka?
Next year, you will go?]
うん、たぶんいま私たちがんばりますね、来年、来年。
Un, tabun ima watashitachi gambarimasu ne, rainen, rainen.
Yeah, probably now we work hard, next year, next year.]
来年の２月、３月の２ヶ月間みんなで向こうに戻ろうと。
Rainen no nigatsu, sangatsu no nikagetsukan minna de mukō ni
modorō to.
Next year in February, March, for two month we all will return
over there.]
(In Spanish)
(Translates Vasco’s Spanish) ちょうどもう８歳になりますし、
もうたぶんペルー行っても日本のこと忘れない時期でもある
し、いろいろ覚えさせることもありますし、まあ特にスペイ
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ン語もやっぱりちゃんと話せて日本に戻れるようなレベルぐ
らいのスペイン語には、しておきたいなって。
Chōdo mō ha-ssai ni narimasu shi, mō tabun Perū ittemo Nihon no
koto wasurenai jiki demo aru shi, iroiro oboesaseru koto mo
arimasu shi, maa toku ni Supeingo mo yappari chanto hanasete
Nihon ni modoreru yō na reberu gurai no Supein-go ni wa, shite
okitaina tte.
[Yoko:
(He) will turn just 8 years old, and probably even if he already
went to Peru he will not forget about Japan at this period, and there
are various things for him to learn, well especially Spanish also
obviously can properly speak and return to Japan like the level that
he can speak Spanish.]
バスコ： それでちょっと勉強のスペイン語、後六郎くんペルー見える。
いろいろ見える。後たぶん六郎くん考えてペルー人、日本人、
どうする。例えばよう子ちゃんのこのぐらい、ペルー人、い
やだ。日本人、ほしい。問題たぶんペルー、南アメリカ、い
っぱいの問題ね。見える。日本、それ問題ないね。どうする。
一番後自分でペルー人、日本人後それと私教えてあげます。
***どこのアイデンティティフィケーション、ペルー、日本、
六郎くんの後自分で日本アイデンティティフィケーション、
自分で考える。後、私教えてあげます。xxx後、頭ぐちゃぐ
ちゃ。
Sore de chotto benkyō no Supeingo, ato Rokuro-kun Perū mieru.
Iroiro mieru. Ato tabu Rokuro-kun kangaete Perūjin, Nihonjin, dō
suru. Tatoeba Yoko-chan no kono gurai, Perūjin, iya da. Nihonjin,
hoshii. Mondai tabun Perū, Minami Amerika, ippai no mondai ne.
Mieru. Nihon, sore mondai nai ne. Dō suru. Ichiban ato jibun de
Perūjin, Nihonjin ato sore to watashi oshiete agemasu. *** Doko
no aidentifikēshon, Perū, Nihon, Rokuro-kun no ato jibun de Nihon
aidentifikēshon, jibun de kangaeru. Ato, watashi oshiete agemasu.
xxx ato, atama guchagucha.
[Vasco:
And a little study of Spanish, and then Rokuro will see Peru. (He)
will see various things. And then probably Rokuro will think
Peruvian, Japanese, what to do. For example, Yoko about this
(age), Peruvian, hate. Japanese, want. Problems probably Peru,
South America, a lot of problems. (You) can see. Japan, that
problem is not here. What to do. First and then by himself Peruvian,
Japanese, and then I will teach (him). *** Where to identify, Peru,
Japan, Rokuro and then by himself Japan identification, think by
himself. And then I will teach (him). xxx and then, mind will mix.
Even though Vasco repeatedly said that “first Rokuro has to think for himself, and then I
will teach him,” his expectation, which will be clarified by Yoko’s translation below, was
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that once Rokuro faced the hard reality of problems in Peru and South America, he would
decide to identify himself as a Japanese, and not as a Peruvian. In this manner, Rokuro’s
future identity as a Japanese was chosen and imposed by his father. Rokuro’s sister,
Yoko’s accurate translation of Vasco’s intention clarified and only intensified their
choice of identity for Rokuro as a Japanese.
Vasco:
(In Spanish)
よう子： (Translates Vasco’s Spanish) やっぱりたぶんいま六郎くんペルー
見たことないんですよ、テレビとかでしか、でやっぱペルー行
ったらペルーがどんな国かやっと気づくと思うんですよ、そこ
で、でペルーはもう経済的にもほんとにだめだし、でそれが目
に見えてわかるんですよ。たぶん六郎はそれを見たらペルー人
はいやだって日本人になりたいって言うと思うんですね、だか
らそこでやっと自分で自分のアイデンティティをきめられるん
じゃないかなって。
Yappari tabun ima Rokuro-kun Perū mita koto nain desu yo, terebi
toka de shika, de yappa Perū ittara Perū ga donna kuni ka yatto
kizuku to omoun desu yo, soko de, de Perū wa mō keizaiteki ni mo
honto ni dame da shi, de sore ga me ni miete wakarun desu yo. Tabun
Rokuro wa sore o mitara Perūjin wa iya da tte Nihonjin ni naritai tte
iu to omoun desu ne, dakara soko de yatto jibun de jibun no aidentiti
o kimerarerun ja nai ka na tte.
[Yoko:
Obviously now probably Rokuro has never seen Peru, only on like
TV, and if he goes to Peru I think he will finally realize there what
kind of country Peru is, and Peru is already economically really bad
too, and you can see that with your own eyes. Probably if Rokuro
saw that I think he will say that he will not want to be Peruvian but
want to be Japanese, so there finally by himself he can decide his
own identity.]
For Rokuro whose parents and sister had experienced the hardships of living in an
economically disadvantaged country, it would not be an easy task for him to hold a
positive image of the home country of his parents. It only built up his anxiety to visit Peru
in the future, as he repeatedly said「行きたくない」‘ikitakunai” [don’t want to go] to
Peru.
Ngoc’s reflexive positioning
303
Unlike Rokuro, Ngoc had been to her home country twice, once when she was a
baby, and another time when she was in kindergarten for about a week each time. Even
though Ngoc never actively talked about her experience back in Vietnam, when
interviewed about Vietnam with a group of neighbor friends, she fondly talks about her
country.
ゴック：
[Ngoc:
リン：
[Linh:
トィ：
[Thuy:
ゴック：
[Ngoc:
リン：
[Linh:
トィ：
[Thuy:
リン：
[Linh:
ゴック：
[Ngoc:
ヌ：
[Nhu:
ベトナム行くとき楽しいけど、日本つまんないんだ。
Betonamu iku toki tanoshii kedo, Nihon tsuman nain da.
When (I) go to Vietnam it’s fun, but Japan is boring.]
だって遊びとかに行くと、学校とか行かないし、まあ普通い
っぱい遊ぶから。
Datte asobi toka ni iku to, gakkō toka ikanai shi, maa futsū ippai
asobu kara.
Cus if (we) go play, (we) don’t go to school, and like normally
(we) play a lot.]
でもうちやだよ。だって雨、晴れ、雨、晴れっていつもそう
なってんだもん。
Demo uchi yada yo. Datte ame, hare, ame, hare tte itsumo sō
natten da mon.
But I don’t like it. Cus rain, sunny, rain, sunny, always like that.]
うち、晴れ、晴れ、晴れ、１週間晴れ、土曜日が雨、後は晴
れ。
Uchi, hare, hare, hare, i-sshūkan hare, do-yōbi ga ame, ato wa
hare.
I (had) sunny, sunny, sunny, sunny one week, Saturday rain, the
rest was sunny.]
うちは晴れで、時々雨。
Uchi wa hare de, tokidoki ame.
I (had) sunny, and sometimes rain.]
ベトナムのおうちが隣がお菓子やさんなの。((ささやき))
Betonamu no o-uchi ga tonari ga okashiya-san na no ((sasayaki)).
My Vietnam home has a candy shop next door. ((whispers))]
うちも。
Uchi mo.
Me too.]
うちもある。
Uchi mo aru.
I have (one) too.]
うちもある。
Uchi mo aru.
I have (one) too.]
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トィ：
[Thuy:
ゴック：
しかも300円。
Shikamo sambyaku-en.
And (it’s) 300 yen.]
10円とか。***二歩、歩いたらすぐ。
[Ngoc:
Jūen toka. *** Niho, aruitara sugu.
Like 10 yen. *** Just two steps.]
Ngoc remembers how much fun she had in Vietnam, compared to her every day routine
life in Japan. Linh understands that it is because going to Vietnam is “vacation” for them,
and they did not have to go to school while visiting their home country. Thuy does not
forget to mention the rather unpleasant rainy weather there. However, Ngoc’s memory is
still positive, remembering more sunny days than rainy ones. Next, Thuy, as if making a
confession in a whispering voice, tells about a candy store next door. All girls, including
Ngoc chip in to indicate that they also have a candy shop next to their homes in Vietnam.
The candy shop is not only “just two steps” from Ngoc’s home, but also inexpensive ‘like
10 yen’. Compared to 7-Eleven which was located at the end of the block of Ngoc’s
housing complex where you had to pay at least 80 yen (approximately one dollar as of
January 2008) to purchase a pack of sweets, ‘10 yen’ was certainly cheaper, and ‘two
steps’, closer than a block. Despite many of these positive memories of Vietnam, when
asked where they want to live in the future, after a short pause they respond overlapping
each other,「日本」“Nihon” [Japan]. Ngoc still lingered on to her pleasant memories of
visiting Vietnam and repeated「ベトナムでもxxx楽しいから」 “Betonamu demo xxx
tanoshii kara.” [Vietnam is also xxx fun.] For these girls who have experiences of
visiting Vietnam and have common friends to re-live these fond memories, their home
country was a place where they visited on their vacation from school, as the Japanese
tourists would do, and Japan was their reality where they had to go to school every day.
305
Ngoc and the girls’ positive image of Vietnam is certain to help them display their
“assumed identity” as Vietnamese in their community, and to nurture their multiplicity.
8.3 Identities revisited (Change)
When I returned to the Cambodian home in the fall of 2008, Taro was attending
kokusai class in his school, even though he was evaluated as not needing such assistance
back in the spring. He told me that he liked kokusai class better than his regular class. He
also told me that there are two teachers plus Ms. Hidaka who came in once a week to
teach him Cambodian. Therefore, I asked him if his Cambodian has gotten better than
before. He responded with a bitter smile,「あんまり．．．」“Ammari…” [Not
really…] However, he was eager to tell me about various international classmates in his
kokusai class.「外国人多いから。ラオス、ベトナム、ブラジル、ボリビアもいる
よ」“Gaikokujin ooi kara. Raosu, Betonamu, burajiru, boribia mo iru yo.” [There are
many foreigners so. There are Laos, Vietnam, Brazil, Bolivia too.] He excitedly told me
all the different nationalities he learned from his classmates. Even though his Cambodian
language is not developing as much as he wishes, he takes on the kokusai class student
identity eagerly at school. I could easily imagine him fitting very well in kokusai class,
just like in regular class.
Unlike Taro’s rather stable state of mind for now, Rokuro had gone through a
drastic change in the six months of my absence. In the follow-up interview conducted in
the fall 2008 when asked about his nationality, he responds with confidence and pride
「日本人と思ってる」“Nihon-jin to omotteru.” [(I) consider myself Japanese.] as in
the following excerpt.
筆者： 前、ペルー人だって言ってなかった？
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Mae, Perūjin da tte itte nakata?
[Author: Before, didn’t you say Peruvian?]
六郎： 日本人って言ってたよ。
Nihonjin tte itteta yo.
[Rokuro: I said Japanese.]
筆者： あ、前から自分は日本人だと思ってたんだ。ふーん。
A, mae kara jibun wa Nihonjin da to omottetan da. Fu---n.
[Author: Oh, since before you considered yourself Japanese. I see.]
六郎： だって、日本に生まれたから日本人だもん。
Datte, Nihon ni umareta kara Nihonjin dam on.
Rokuro: Cus, I was born in Japan so I’m Japanese.]
筆者： そっか、日本で生まれたから？へー。でも。
Sokka, Nihon de umareta kara? He---. Demo.
[Author: I see, because you were born in Japan? I see. But…]
六郎： うん。それを言わなかったら俺ペルー人だと思ってたよ。
Un. Sore o iwanakattara ore Perūjin da to omotteta yo.
[Rokuro: Yeah. If (she) didn’t say that I thought I was Peruvian.]
筆者： あー誰が言ったの、それ？
A---dare ga itta no, sore?
[Author: Oh who said that?]
六郎： それ？ママに。
Sore? Mama ni.
[Rokuro: That? From mom.]
筆者： あ、ママにそう言われたんだ。へー。何て？
A, mama ni sō iwaretan da. He---. Nante?
[Author: Oh, you were told that from your mom. I see. What (did she say)?]
六郎： ん？あなたは日本人に生まれたよって、日本に。で、そっから
僕じゃ日本人に生まれたんだって思って、そっから日本人、お
友達に日本で生まれたんだって言ったら、じゃ日本人だねって
言われた。
N? Anata wa Nihonjin ni umareta yo tte, Nihon ni. De, sokkara boku
ja Nihonjin ni umaretan da tte omotte, sokkara Nihonjin, otomodachi
ni Nihon de umaretanda tte ittara, ja Nihonjin da ne tte iwareta.
[Rokuro: Huh? You were born Japanese, in Japan. And, then I thought well I
was born Japanese, and then Japanese, friends I told them I was born
in Japan, and I was told well then you are Japanese.]
Even if he had told me that he was Peruvian back in the interview in the spring, he argues
that he had always thought himself as a Japanese from the beginning. Soon after, he
admits that until his mother told him that he was born in Japan, therefore is Japanese, he
had considered himself to be Peruvian. This ‘fact’ was an eye-opener for him, and
307
something he wanted to share with me outside of his “official interview responses,” as
can be seen in his use of「俺」“ore” [I (masculine, more casual)], which he switches
back to「僕」“boku” [I (masculine, less casual)] in his response soon after. In addition,
his reflexive positioning had to be approved by his Japanese peer friends「じゃ日本人
だねって言われた」“Ja Nihonjin da ne tte iwareta.” [I was told well then you are
Japanese.] This indicates that before, Rokuro’s friends assumed him to be non-Japanese
(I doubt his friends knew his country of origin.), but now accepted his negotiated identity.
For now he was happy with his findings, and was determined to remain as Japanese when
he visits Peru in February 2009, as in the following excerpt.
筆者： あ、そうなんだ。でも今度、ペルーに行くんだよね。
A, sō nan da. Demo kondo, Perū ni ikun da yo ne.
[Author: Oh, I see. But you will go to Peru soon.]
六郎： うん、２月に。
Un, nigatsu ni.
[Rokuro: Yeah, in February.]
筆者： ２月に。そのときは？
Nigatsu ni. Sono toki wa?
[Author: In February. What about then?]
六郎： え？
E?
[Rokuro: Huh?]
筆者： 何人になるの？
Nanijin ni naru no?
[Author: What nationality will you be?]
六郎： ずっと日本人。日本、面白いもん。
Zutto Nihonjin. Nihon, omoshiroi mon.
[Rokuro: Japanese all the time. Cus Japan is fun.]
筆者： そっか。面白いもんね。でもさ、ペルーでさ、六郎君何人って
聞かれたら何て答えるの？
Sokka. Omoshiroi mon ne. Demo sa, Perū de sa, Rokuro-kun nanijin
tte kikaretara nan te kotaeru no?
[Author: I see. Cus fun. But, in Peru, if you were asked what nationality, how
will you answer?]
六郎： 日本人って言う。
Nihonjin tte iu.
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[Rokuro:
I will say Japanese.]
This time, he gave the reason for remaining Japanese as Japan being a fun place for him
to be. Perhaps, imagining himself in Peru he felt the need to justify himself choosing
Japan over Peru besides the fact that he was born there. As he imagined himself in Peru,
he realized the need to speak Spanish there, and he continued below.
六郎：
[Rokuro:
筆者：
[Author:
六郎：
[Rokuro:
筆者：
[Author:
六郎：
[Rokuro:
筆者：
[Author:
六郎：
[Rokuro:
日本、日本のスペイン語ってわかるけどね。
Nihon, nihon no Supeingo tte wakaru kedo ne.
Japan, I know Japan’s Spanish.]
日本で？
Nihon de?
In Japan?]
日本で、あんじゃん、日本って、ペルー語で僕、言えるよ。
Nihon de, an jan, Nihon tte, Perugo de boku, ieru yo.
Japan, you know, Japan, um, I can say in Peruvian.]
話せるでしょ？「日本」ってスペイン語で言えるの？何て言
うの？
Hanaseru desho? “Nihon” tte Supeingo de ieru no? Nan te iu no?
You can speak? You can say “Japan” in Spanish? How do you say
it?]
何で言わないとだめなの？
Nan de iwanai to dame na no?
Why do I have to say it?]
知りたい！
Shiritai!
I want to know!]
やだ！
Ya da!
No way!]
Rokuro was very much aware that in order to negotiate his identity in Peru, he must
speak to people in Spanish. He vividly imagined himself being asked this same question I
asked him in Japanese, and confidently announces that he could respond in Spanish, or in
“Peruvian,” using Rokuro’s words. Upon the Japanese tutor’s request to say Japan in
Spanish, Rokuro played the shy Japanese-Spanish bilingual, and refused to speak Spanish,
even if he knew how to say the word. During this exchange, Rokuro’s neighbor friend
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was sitting near by, so I asked him how to say Japan in Spanish. He kindly said the word
“Japón” to me, and I repeated the word, “Japón.” To give credit to Rokuro, I asked him if
that was right. He responded yes, and his positioning as a Japanese-Spanish bilingual was
confirmed.
When I visited Ngoc for the first time after my return to Japan in the fall 2008,
she was eager to study with me right away. I had just visited to confirm their willingness
to continue another month of tutoring, and I was going to leave soon after. However,
Ngoc said,「だめ！８時まで！」“Dame! Hachiji made!” [No! Until 8 o’clock!],
insisting on starting studying right away. On this day, she even wanted to study kanji.
Another change I noticed by my second visit was the growing number of Ngoc’s
neighbor friends who came to my tutoring sessions. Now there were Thuy, Nhu, Linh,
and Phuong who was in grade five, the oldest among the girls. On the next visit when I
saw Ngoc outside of their housing complex in front of 7-Eleven, she was with these girls
waiting for another Vietnamese sibling to join them. Ngoc’s Vietnamese network seemed
to be growing bigger and tighter. In my opinion, Ngoc matured the most, taking her
academics and the tutoring sessions more seriously than before, involving more friends in
her neighborhood. However, when I sought for opportunities to interview her all by
herself, she refused by saying that she was busy with her homework, positioning herself
as a “diligent student.”
8.4 Conclusion
The children in this study had opportunities to express their multiple identities in
their daily lives to different degrees. All of them had opportunities to speak their home
languages to their family members and express their multilingual identities at home. The
310
tutoring sessions gave ideal opportunities for the children to talk about their heritage
culture to their Japanese tutors. Some of them participated in community-related cultural
events with their family members. Others were provided opportunities to speak their
home languages during “International week” at school. However, whether they willingly
take or can take these opportunities is a different matter. Their home language ability
may not be sufficient enough for them to express their multilingual identities, or their
heritage cultural knowledge might not be accurate enough for them to talk about. Often
times, it was difficult for them to create a positive image of their home country, where
their parents had fled for a better life in Japan for their children.
Taro took full advantage of his opportunities to speak Cambodian and express
multiple identities. He tried to speak Cambodian at home to his mother and other family
members, and he actively displayed his cultural identities by engaging in conversations
with his mother and myself. He participated in community-related cultural activities such
as the Refugee gatherings and New Years party, where he was dressed in traditional
Cambodian outfit. When asked about his nationality, he responded without doubt or
hesitation that he is a Cambodian. However, Taro did not always happily reveal his
multiple identities and speak Cambodian in front of others. There was a time of struggle
when he came home from nursery school and told his father that he did not want to speak
Cambodian anymore. In addition, remembering positive experiences visiting Cambodia
did not come naturally, and he imagined himself living in a conveniently developed
country, Japan, surrounded by his favorite toys and sweets in the future.
Rokuro had less opportunity to speak his home language and express his multiple
identities than Taro. He had fewer family members and neighbors to speak Spanish to,
311
and no community-related activities which I observed him attending like Taro. When
asked about his nationality in the spring 2008, he responded with a little bit of hesitation
that he is Peruvian. However, his Spanish ability did not match to his wish to be able to
speak the language, and his cultural knowledge was limited to what he had heard, having
no experience of seeing Peru before. At school, his multiplicity is almost invisible, as his
trivial knowledge about Peru is not much appreciated. After six months, he changed his
mind, and this change was triggered by a talk with his mother who assured him that he
was a Japanese person. During my second visit in the fall 2008, he claimed with
confidence that he was Japanese and will remain Japanese「ずっと」”forever,” even
when he visits Peru in February 2009.
Ngoc had a close knit Vietnamese community of female friends in her public
housing complex, and did not lack opportunities to speak Vietnamese to her family
members and friends to express her multilingual identities. However, she did not actively
talk about her experience of visiting Vietnam, and express her cultural identities. The
only time when she eagerly displayed her cultural identity was during my interview
sessions with a group of Vietnamese girls, all of whom were Ngoc’s neighbor friends. In
such occasions, she fondly talked about her experience in Vietnam compared to her「つ
まんない」“tsumannai” [boring] school life in Japan. She comfortably participated in
co-constructing positive images of her home country Vietnam with her friends. When
asked about her nationality, she chorused together with the other girls that they are
Vietnamese. When asked about her future plans to change her citizenship and name, she
did not clearly understand what that meant, and negotiated and constructed her responses
along with other girls, joinly producing the lines. However, when asked to be interviewed
312
by herself, she refused by saying that she was busy. This Vietnamese peer community
was where Ngoc comfortably displayed her positive and “assumed identity,” and perhaps
she did not feel confident to be able to play the same role she wished to express when she
was by herself.
In sum, children in this study possessed multiple identities and expressed them to
different degrees by strategically negotiating their positioning (Pavlenko & Blackledge,
2004). They had different degrees of cultural and linguistic resources and different
amount of opportunities to display their multiple identities. When their “negotiable
identity” was accepted and perceived positively, they were more open about displaying
their multiplicity and to use their multiple linguistic resources. Perhaps, such ability to
negotiate their identities in various situations was the key for their multilingual
development. On the other hand, when they did not have the means to negotiate their
positioning, their multiplicity became “erased” (Irvine & Gal, 2000) as they started to be
assimilated into the monocultural norm. It was also inevitable that some identity choices
were not negotiable in some situations, even as children struggled to choose one identity
over another. In conducting my interviews, I felt the lack of terminologies in Japanese to
talk about multicultural children’s multiplicity. For instance, there is no vocabulary to
talk about Taro and Ngoc’s multiple identities as a “Japanese of Cambodian descent” or
Japanese of Vietnamese descent,” unlike in English terms such as Japanese Americans or
Chinese Americans. Nor is there a way to talk about Rokuro’s background as a child of
Nikkei (Japanese) Peruvian who has immigrated back to Japan. These children’s identities
will continue to change reflecting on the lack of appropriate labels, or perhaps they will
choose one or the other. In this chapter, I have described that multicultural children are
313
positioned in discursive practices, and their identities are multiple, become a site of
struggle, and will continue to change over time (Weedon, 1987).
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CHAPTER NINE
CONCLUSION AND IMPLICATIONS
This study is about multicultural children of Cambodian, Peruvian, and
Vietnamese parentage, who allegedly encounter difficulties in balancing multiple
languages and negotiating identities in Japan. The substance of the pioneering studies and
reports, mostly conducted by written questionnaires and structured interviews, explains
the problems of multicultural children as “semilinguals” with identity crisis (Nakajima,
1998; Ōta, 2000; Tomozawa, 2001). Very few individual success stories have been told
(McMahill, 2006; Morita, 2002) precisely because very few ethnographic studies have
been done on individual multicultural children. This longitudinal ethnographic study
investigates three multicultural children born in Japan, Taro, Rokuro, and Ngoc’s
multiple language use and identity negotiation in multi-dimensions of everyday life. My
intensive and extensive observations during home tutoring sessions and school visitations
explored their social interactions in multiple languages and situational positioning in
discursive practices in the process of their language development and identity
construction.
Following the description of each multicultural child, this final chapter
synthesizes the three cases by comparison and discusses major findings of this study in
response to my research questions and in review of relevant literature. Subsequently,
implications for educational practices and future research are suggested, referring to
realistic alternatives to enhance Japanese multiculturalism with ethnically diverse
populations. In so doing, a model educational program such as the Volunteer Home
Tutoring program is recommended to fill in the gap between multicultural children’s
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needs and the nation’s insufficient support and vision to promote multilingualism in
Japan. This chapter concludes with a snapshot of the current time and the future
trajectory of the three main characters of this dissertation.
9.1 Discussion of Three Multicultural Children
This study identifies multicultural children’s multiple identity negotiation by
taking advantage of their individual linguistic and cultural resources to successfully
position themselves in the community they belong to. Taro, Rokuro, and Ngoc
respectively took advantage of their specific linguistic characteristics and negotiated their
multiple positioning and interpersonal roles through daily interactions with others. While
experiencing sporadic social struggles and changes, they made an effort to become
multicultural citizens and achieved learning and personal growth through the families’
participation in the Volunteer Home Tutoring program. Furthermore, these children
voluntarily but selectively promoted their home languages and shared knowledge of their
home culture with the Japanese tutors in the comfortable environment of their homes. In
sum, this study verifies the essence of multicultural children’s effort and occasional
success of multiple language use and identity negotiation through constant socializing
practice and development of a positive self image.
A number of key factors appear to be influential in occasional successful language
use and identity negotiation of the three multicultural children. The first factor is their
home environment, including parental support, influence of siblings, and community
networks. The second factor is their school environment, i.e. level of multiculturalism,
availability of language support, peers’ and teachers’ attitudes and school ideologies.
Finally, the third factor is their involvement in the Volunteer Home Tutoring program.
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These three aspects seem interrelated in influencing the degree of language use and
negotiation of identity in their respective communities. In the following sections, three
multicultural children’s cases are summarized with the discussion of these three factors,
evaluating the most significant factors for each child.
9.1.1 Cambodian Japanese Taro
Taro’s home environment was supportive for him to learn and speak Cambodian,
and to construct a multicultural identity. His parents had a strong desire for him to
maintain Cambodian, and his mother provided Cambodian language maintenance classes
for the community when financial support was provided by the Foundation for the
Welfare and Education of the Asian People. Both of his parents were well educated in
Cambodia, and his father particularly had acquired advanced level Japanese proficiency
with his diligence. This parental resource was helpful for Taro’s Japanese language
development, since his father could help him with his academics. However, the fact that
his three older sisters were fluent in Japanese did not help Taro with his Cambodian
development. This was because they mainly communicated in Japanese among siblings,
and the effect of birth order on bilinguality (Noguchi, 2001) certainly seemed to take
presence in this family. However, this did not change the fact that Taro had the most
privileged involvement in Cambodian community and cultural activities. Their home was
the gathering place for the community members. Since the mother has a DVD rental and
international telephone card business, their Cambodian neighbors stopped by their home
frequently. Taro was taken to cultural activities such as the Refugee Gathering where he
wore a Cambodian outfit and greeted the audience on stage, the Cambodian New Years
party when everyone danced to Cambodian music, and the Cambodian market to sell
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Cambodian food. As a result, Taro loved Cambodian language and food, and actively
played a diplomatic role of promoting the language and sharing cultural knowledge of
Cambodia.
Therefore, Taro benefited from the family’s participation in the Volunteer Home
Tutoring program, where he had the opportunity to play this diplomatic role. While the
tutor studied with his mother, he voluntarily participated in the adult conversation about
Cambodian food and culture. In additiono, he also eagerly taught Cambodian words to
the tutor who was willing to learn his language. He also played a language brokering role
by helping his mother understand Japanese, and by translating Cambodian to Japanese for
the tutor. In this manner, he was able to maximally utilize his limited Cambodian
knowledge to position himself as a Cambodian-Japanese bilingual, which was much
appreciated by both his mother and the tutor. They both legitimatized Taro’s position as a
language expert.
Taro carried on his outgoing personality to his school as a confident CambodianJapanese bilingual. Taro’s school had the highest degree of multiculturalism, in terms of
the number of multicultural children enrolled as well as the school’s display of
multiculturalism. His school consisted of approximately 80 multicultural children, 16
percent of total school population, and Taro’s class had four multicultural children
attending. At his school where multiculturalism was celebrated, Taro comfortably
displayed his Cambodian identity in class in front of his peers by speaking Cambodian to
the language assistance teacher. As a matter of fact, Taro’s school had Japanese language
assistance teachers who could speak their home languages. To this teacher who spoke
Cambodian, Taro openly spoke Cambodian when she visited his classroom.
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Taro’s classroom teacher believed in the importance of multicultural children’s
home language maintenance, and encouraged them to speak their languages in kokusai
class, without much success. These particular students’ reluctance to speak their home
languages at school was unknown. However, it could be speculated that they were
embarrassed to do so because other Japanese students would not understand their
languages which has little value as cultural capital (Bourdieu, 1991) in Japan, or because
they did not know their languages well (Kanno, 2004). In either case, Taro just entering
elementary school did not feel this embarrassment, which seemed to be developed over
the years of participation in school. Taro’s school had the good intention to provide
teachers with students’ language background. However, the students who received their
assistance were the ones who couldnot participate in Japanese academic discourses
without help in their home languages. Therefore, their assistance was provided as a
transitional stage from L1 academic assistance to Japanese only academic assistance, and
once their Japanese was good enough to participate in regular class, their home language
assistance was no longer provided. In this manner, what seemed like a multilingual
community is sheltered by implicit monolingual ideology (Pavlenko & Blackledge, 2004).
In the end, all students were expected to participate in academic discourses only in
Japanese, and unless they were provided with a more supportive multilingual atmosphere,
it was not as easy for them to speak their home languages at school as teachers might
assume. This contradictory orientation “sends students mixed messages about what
identities are available for appropriation and which are particularly desirable” (Kanno,
2004, p. 321).
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In sum, Taro had a strong sense of Cambodian identity with his love of the
language and culture. However, being born and brought up in Japan, his home language
ability was limited, as well as his knowledge of his own culture. The bits and pieces of
knowledge about his country stemmed from his few short visits back home when he was
younger. His memories are fragmented and not all positive compared to his convenient
life in Japan. Even though that was the case, he utilized his Cambodian knowledge to the
fullest extent, and aspired to speak Cambodian better. He had full support of his family,
and his learning environment at home is optimal (except the small space for studying in
the living room). Taro’s full involvement in the home tutoring sessions had prepared him
for academics at school, and he had a good start in his elementary school period of his
life. At school, he was fortunate to have quite a large percentage of multicultural children
enrolled, and a Cambodian language assistance teacher with whom he could share his
heritage and speak his language. Therefore, Taro had opportunities to speak his limited
home language both at home and at school, and displayed his multiple identities in both
spheres. If I had an appropriate terminology in Japanese to express his identity, I would
identify him as “Cambodian Japanese.”
9.1.2 Japanese Peruvian Rokuro
Rokuro had considered himself Peruvian, until his parents had taught him that he
was born in Japan, therefore he is Japanese. After this realization, he seemed to be happy
with this positioning, and claimed his legitimacy as Japanese with confidence. His father
was a descendent of Japanese immigrants to Peru, and it seemed natural for him to teach
his children that “the country Japan, where you live and where you are a member of the
community is your home.” His teaching was most successful with his daughter who
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positions herself as Japanese, admitting that she does not know much about Peru.
However, she keeps her multiplicity by acquiring and maintaining Spanish as a fluent and
literate user. Growing up bilingual and advancing her studies to college to become a
lawyer, she is certainly a role model and a strict mentor for Rokuro. She disciplines him
with stern verbal behavior, wishing the best future for him. She and his parents believe
that now it is most important for Rokuro to acquire Japanese literacy and to do well
academically. Even if he did not speak much Spanish, they were optimistic since Rokuro
showed no reluctance to speaking the language, unlike his sister who resisted Spanish
when she was his age. As such, Rokuro had full support from his family, although his
community network was limited to few of their neighbors. In addition, the only cultural
activity participation mentioned was their church attendance.
With his limited language ability and no experience of seeing Peru with his own
eyes, Rokuro behaved just like any other Japanese children his age. However, the
family’s and his participation in the home tutoring proved his needs in keeping up with
academics at school. Being in the midst of elementary school first grade, he struggled to
develop his Japanese literacy skills comparable to his classmates. Having difficulties
deciphering the simplest writing system of Japanese, namely hiragana, reading activities
which are the core of the academic subject kokugo became a heavy burden. Especially,
having to learn new kanji one after another, when he still had not mastered another
simpler writing system, katakana, mounted his difficulties and lack of confidence in
academics. Therefore, Rokuro highly benefited from his private tutoring sessions,
receiving encouragement and support from his Japanese tutors. He slowly started to show
his multiplicity, and when the occasions arose he voluntarily shared his knowledge about
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Peru and Spanish at home to the tutors. However, Rokuro’s Spanish was limited, and
there was no evidence to attribute his difficulties in academics to his language
background, which is often too easily assumed (Schecter & Bayley, 2002).
At Rokuro’s school, multicultural children were still the minority and many of
them were put together in one class. His school had a multicultural population of
approximately 1.75 percent of the total population, and his class had four multicultural
children out of seven first graders. There were no signs of multiculturalism displayed at
school, and there was no Kokusai class offered. Even though there were more than five
multicultural children in need of JSL instruction, because of their temporary nature, the
school could not provide a Kokusai class. Instead, Rokuro and other multicultural
children were visited by a Japanese assistance teacher who rotated between multiple
schools within a week. However, they did not have an assigned classroom to study in,
and were often moved around due to schedule change. In this way, their pull-out Japanese
language instruction was not legitimatized but rather marginalized. However, Rokuro did
not dislike receiving the Japanese language teacher’s instruction, and his classroom
atmosphere was supportive in his learning. When he and other multicultural children
progressed in their Japanese reading ability, the teacher celebrated their efforts and
encouraged the whole class to work as hard as them. Thanks to their encouragement,
Rokuro gradually started to catch up with his classmates in terms of academic skills. On
the contrary, he never found opportunities to speak Spanish or express his multiple
identities at school. He felt embarrassed to speak his home language because he was not
good at it, according to his classroom teacher. Unfortunately, a classmate from the
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Dominican Republic did not receive any language support from his best friend, and the
Dominican boy transferred out of Rokuro’s class by the end of school year 2008.
In sum, Rokuro now identified himself as Japanese being born to this nation, and
had very limited use of Spanish language. From his older sister’s difficult experience of
learning two languages at the same time, his parents and older sister did not push him to
speak Spanish at home. He had never visited his parent’s home country Peru, and his
knowledge of the country was secondhand. Even though that was the case, he took a few
opportunities to speak Spanish at home to his extended family members. In fact, he
engaged his Japanese tutor into conversations about Peruian culture. However, his
expression of multicultural identities was contained in the safe environment of his home.
He did not feel comfortable speaking Spanish at school, with the burden of being
positioned as a fluent speaker. Even when he talked about his family in Peru at school,
his personal story was not equated to important knowledge about his country. Therefore,
Rokuro had opportunities to speak Spanish and express his multicultural identities at
home, but not as much at school. Having Japanese ancestry, Rokuro could be identified
as a Japanese Peruvian. However, he had not developed his Peruvian identity fully
outside of the realm of home, and he may never do so.
9.1.3 Vietnamese Ngoc
Ngoc had a strong knit Vietnamese peer group network in her neighborhood, and
together with her female friends, she identified herself as Vietnamese. When asked about
changing her name and nationality to Japanese in the future, she briefly thought about it
and after knowing that she had to go through a hassle of “going somewhere” to do so, she
decided to settle with being Vietnamese for now. Being the older sister to a brother who
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was one year younger, she spoke more Vietnamese than him to communicate with her
parents and grandparents who lived in the same apartment complex. Her young mother’s
highest education was elementary school in Vietnam, after which she was put on a boat to
escape the country. Her mother aspired to go back to school in Japan, but never had the
opportunity to do so. Both parents were hard working parents and not at home much to
care for their children’s educational needs.
Therefore, Ngoc’s parents relied on Japanese tutors to look after their academic
studying at home. Ngoc was a rather shy girl who did not want to study by herself with
the tutor in the beginning, and ended up inviting her whole female peer group in the
neighborhood by the end of the tutoring period. When the Vietnamese girls gathered in
one small apartment room to study, they sometimes switched to Vietnamese to secretly
chat among themselves. Ngoc specifically counted in Vietnamese to solve math problems,
and helped her younger peer by doing the same, which was not appreciated by her peer
who spoke less Vietnamese than Ngoc. They sometimes engaged in conversations about
Vietnamese culture. Having visited their home country a few times when they were
younger, they shared fond memories of spending holidays without having to go to school
in Vietnam, unlike their daily routine of attending school in Japan.
Ngoc behaved quite differently at school, being separated from her Vietnamese
peer groups. Even though her close friend Thuy was in a class next door, they did not
hang out together at school. Ngoc was in her class with another multicultural student
from Laos whom she attended Kokusai class together. The school provided opportunities
for the students to share their cultural heritage during a week called “International
Week.” During this time, the students gave a presentation to the whole school population,
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and spoke their home languages in front of their Japanese peers. However, this was a
rather embarrassing experience for Ngoc and the Vietnamese girls, where
multilingualism had to be displayed on stage to be noticed, rather than from their
everyday encounters. The school’s representation of multiculturalism was contained
around Kokusai classroom, and did not extend into the other Japanese students’ territories.
Having the longest history of providing Kokusai class in the city, Ngoc’s school had a
fairly established system of assisting multicultural children, and the Kokusai class
teachers were considerate and believed in the importance of children’s home language
maintenance. However, their non-literate home language ability did not count as
academic resources, and they were positioned as “chūtohanpa na [half-way incomplete]
bilinguals.”
In sum, Ngoc was comfortable with her positioning as belonging to a tightly knit
Vietnamese community for now. At home, being surrounded by her close peers, she
naturally spoke Vietnamese to her parents and extended family members. During the
tutoring sessions with the Japanese tutor, she and her friends exchanged secretive
remarks to each other in Vietnamese, and engaged the tutor in conversations about
Vietnamese culture. However, when positioned as a Vietnamese-Japanese bilingual, she
was reluctant to take on that role. At school, Ngoc behaved somewhat differently than at
home. She was more reserved and felt embarrassed to speak Vietnamese in front of her
Japanese peers. Therefore, Ngoc did have daily opportunities to speak Vietnamese and
express her multiple identities at home, but that did not extend beyond the boundaries of
her home, to her school community. However, her self identification as Vietnamese for
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now was fairly stable, and with a Vietnamese name written in katakana in Japanese, she
was easily identified as a non-Japanese girl among her peers at school.
I have summarized the cases of three children focusing on three factors which
appeared to be influential in occasional successful language use and identity negotiation:
their home environment, including parental support, influence of siblings, and
community networks: their school environment, i.e. level of multiculturalism, availability
of language support, peers’ and teachers’ attitudes and school ideologies: and their
involvement in the Volunteer Home Tutoring program. These three aspects were
interrelated in influencing the degree of language use and negotiation of identity in their
respective communities. In the next section, I turn my attention to answering the
fundamental research questions by synthesizing across the children and the families to
show how they compare.
9.2 Major Findings and Conclusion
The primary findings answer the two fundamental research questions: 1) How and
to what extent do multicultural children construct, display, and negotiate their multiple
identities when using Japanese? Are there opportunities for children to express their
multicultural identities in Japanese society? 2) How and to what extent do children
construct, display, and negotiate their multiple identities when using their home language?
Do they have opportunities to express their multilingual identities and use their home
language daily? As seen in each child’s case, and as I will discuss further below, this
study indicates that there are opportunities for them to express their multicultural
identities especially at home, and each child constructs, displays, and negotiates their
multiple identities in Japanese to different degrees. Similarly, they have opportunities to
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express their multilingual identities and use their language daily at home. Again, each
child’s home language ability is different, and their use is varied as well. Then the key
question is 3) How do opportunities to express and negotiate their identities influence
children’s language development and home language use? This is discussed in the
following sections, along with answering question 4) How do volunteer home tutors play
a role on multicultural children’s language and identity development?
9.2.1 Multicultural Children’s Japanese as the Dominant Language
In regards to the first research question, all three children in this study spoke
Japanese fluently as their dominant language. When it came to their Japanese as an
academic language at school, it is perhaps inevitable that they lagged behind their
Japanese peers. Compared to their peers from mainstream Japanese families who
normally acquire reading and writing hiragana and katakana prior to attending school,
multicultural children are immediately pressured to learn 92 letters upon entry to
elementary school. Once they are placed in Kokusai class, they are positioned as foreign
children in need of JSL instruction. In Kokusai class, children repeatedly practice writing
kanji and reading the textbook over and over again. In this process, children develop a
strong lack of confidence in the academic subject kokugo, and lose interest in reading in
general. In this situation, children’s “JSL” positioning is an “imposed” one, and children
do not try to negotiate their position as a student in need of pull-out kokusai class. Even
though they do not always enjoy or appreciate being pulled out from their regular class,
they try to take full advantage of this special assistance, and work hard to catch up with
their Japanese peers.
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During private tutoring sessions at home, multicultural children exhibit more
agency towards their own studying and learning. Children are aware of their weaknesses
in Japanese literacy skills, and ask for more challenging tasks when the exercises become
too repetitive. They show preference to what kind of books they want to read, and take
more initiative when they read the books they chose and like. They had a preference to
what kind of activities to be engaged in, and they requested the same activity when they
enjoyed it. In some cases, they have full control over when, what time, and how long
each tutoring session lasted. In this manner, children took responsibility for their learning
of Japanese literacy skills, being very much aware that they needed to work harder than
their peers to keep up with them.
On the other hand, Japanese was their everyday language, and the children
exhibited no difficulties in expressing themselves in the language. Specifically, they
displayed their multiple identities while using Japanese in two significant ways. First,
they talked about their home country to the Japanese tutor, and engaged in conversations
about their culture. This proved to them and the audience that they had the Japanese
linguistic resources to share their cultural knowledge to the tutor. Another case is when
they played the role of a language broker by translating their family members’ messages
into Japanese for the tutor. In case of a successful three way communication, children
were very much appreciated by both their family members and the tutor, and their
positioning as a bilingual translator was legitimatized. In this manner, multicultural
children were socialized through interactions in Japanese, where children played an
agentive role in positioning themselves during the tutoring practices at home.
9.2.2 Multicultural Children’s Home Languages
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In answer to my second research question, these Japanese-dominant children had
fewer opportunities to speak their home languages in the Japanese society. At home,
there seem to be three main factors influencing their use of languages. First, parents of
the children in this study did not force or strongly encourage the children to speak their
languages at home. They all understood the challenges and difficulties of their children
acquiring Japanese literacy skills, and believed that learning their home languages should
not be enforced at the same time. They also acknowledged their children’s strong
affiliation and favor towards the Japanese language and culture, and respected their
choice. Second, multicultural children in this study did not have a strong need to
communicate in their languages at home. Since all of their parents understood and spoke
Japanese to different degrees, they can get by speaking Japanese at home. Especially,
having older siblings fluent in both languages reinforced the convenience of
communicating in their more comfortable language, Japanese. Third, because the parents
did not have a strict policy of language use at home, and because there was no strong
incentive to do so, multicultural children’ s home language ability was limited to
everyday conversational level or even less. Even with their limited language ability,
children engaged in colorful, creative multilingual interactions at home with their family
members and Japanese tutor.
At school, multicultural children in this study had even fewer chances to speak
their home languages. Three main factors observed will be introduced to discuss this
issue. First is its legitimacy and usefulness as a communication tool among their
classmates at school. Children were very much aware that their home languages were not
understandable by their Japanese peers. Secondly, they were not always confident in
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speaking in their home languages, and felt increased burden by being positioned as a
fluent speaker. Thirdly, because their peers did not understand their home languages and
because some of them felt they were not good at it, they were embarrassed to speak it at
school. Therefore, even when multicultural children were provided with opportunities to
speak their home languages at school, they did not feel comfortable doing so. One
exception was when Taro was introduced to a kokusai teacher who speaks his language
face to face in his regular classroom, where he openly spoke Cambodian.
Their limited abilities and opportunities to use their home language do not mean
they did not express their multiple identities by speaking the languages. On the contrary,
multicultural children maximally used their limited languages to communicate with
extended family members who do not speak the Japanese language. They translated the
Japanese tutor’s utterance into their home languages so that they could get the messages
across to their family members. One of them helped his mother understand Japanese by
translating words and phrases into their home language. In this manner, they certainly
played the language brokering role using their home languages within their capabilities.
At times, they spoke their home languages among their peers to exclude the Japanese
tutor from understanding their secretive intentions. Other times, they tried to learn some
words in their home language or teach a certain word to the Japanese tutors. In such cases,
they positioned themselves both as a novice language learner and an expert who could
teach a few words to someone who did not know their languages.
9.2.3 Multicultural Children’s Multiple Identities
Next the key question to be answered here is 3) How do opportunities to display
and negotiate their identities influence children’s language development and home
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language use? This study shows that opportunities to negotiate their identities may
influence children’s language development and home language use. Multicultural
children in this study had opportunities to display their multiple identities in various ways
to the Japanese tutor. The Japanese tutors asked them to speak their home language, and
the children spoke their languages. The Japanese tutor complimented them on their home
language utterance, and the children were encouraged to speak more. The Japanese tutors
asked the children to teach their home languages to them, and even if some of them
showed reluctance to do so, it gave them an opportunity to think about what it means to
speak and teach their home languages to Japanese people. These example instances of
children’s display and negotiation of multilingual identities enables them to use their
home languages, and potentially promote language development or maintenance.
In addition, the realization that they must use language to negotiate their
positioning may encourage them to learn at least two languages. Growing up in a
multilingual environment, multicultural children became aware that once they are in a
different linguistic environment, for instance back in the home country of their parents,
they must use their home language to express their positioning as they wish to portray
themselves. This realization may encourage them to learn their language in order to
survive in a different environment, i.e. in preparation of their visit to the home country.
As such, visitations to their homeland seem to play a crucial role for multicultural
children’s language and identity development for those who do not have much experience
and knowledge of their home country.
However, the diversity and multiplicity of each child’s identity makes it difficult
to claim any positive or negative correlation between identities and language
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development, as it has been cleanly claimed by some previous research (Oketani, 1999).
A Peruvian girl who believed herself to be Japanese was the most balanced bilingual of
all children who successfully acquired Spanish. A Cambodian boy who had a strong
connection to his language and culture was struggling to maintain his language, but doing
well in academic Japanese. A Vietnamese girl had strong language skills but seemed to
be receiving less cultural socialization. These cases suggest that preservation of ethnic
identity need not be tied to the maintenance and continued use of the home language
(Pease-Alvarez, 2003). Rather, this study indicates that having an accepted and positive
image of oneself is a prerequisite for successful multilingual development, and being able
to negotiate desirable identities would help such development. However, that is not
enough. In order to grow up multilingual in an ideologically monolingual community,
much more extra effort must be made by themselves, not to mention the importance of
the parents’ having a strong intention to raise their children “bilingually” (Okita, 2002;
Sakamoto; 2000). Therefore, multilingualism must be looked at from numerous angles,
taking into consideration the social, educational, economic, and political factors at work
(Landry & Allard, 1991, cited in Sakamoto, 2000).
9.2.4 Volunteer Home Tutors’ Roles in Promoting Multiculturalism
In answering my research question 4) How do volunteer home tutors play a role
on multicultural children’s language and identity development?, this study shows that the
Japanese tutors play a role on children’s language and identity development by promoting
multiculturalism in their homes. The very existence of a Japanese person in their home
space creates a multicultural community in itself, and children are exposed to
multilingual interactions in Japanese and their home languages. Children’s family
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members naturally speak their home languages to each other, switching to Japanese when
addressing the Japanese tutors. When communication difficulties arise, children step in as
a mediator conveying each side’s message in Japanese or their home language. As such,
communications between the Japanese tutor and the family members provide a perfect
model of multilingualism for the children to learn how people communicate across
borders. In this manner, children are socialized into multilingual interactions,
occasionally providing help as a language broker.
The other significance of the Volunteer Home Tutoring program is the model
where the parents often study side by side with the children. The parents are their mirror,
and the more serious they take their learning of Japanese, the more serious their children
will be with their studying. If the parent were to reprimand the child’s messy handwriting,
the child will attack back, “Why don’t you practice writing, too…” In addition, watching
their parents making efforts to learn a challenging language at their age, children nurture
great sympathy and tolerance towards their spoken language. Finally, besides the obvious
benefit of their parent studying right next to their child so that they can watch over their
behavior, the parent, the tutor, and the child often times engaged in metalinguistic
discourses unexpectedly. While the parent was having difficulties understanding some
grammatical concepts, the child provided assistance. Even when the child did not know
any grammatical concepts, he knew the forms she was looking for having “native”
instincts in Japanese. Similarly, the child provided help in explaining vocabulary which
often times developed into interesting discussions and insights.
Thirdly, the Volunteer Home Tutoring activity provided genuine opportunities for
the family to build relationships and friendships with Japanese members of the
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community. The Japanese tutors were warmly welcomed into their homes, and were
treated as important guests. It was not uncommon for the family to provide meals for the
tutors who stayed late into the evening at their homes. Even though some student tutors
were unable to accept this sincere invitation because of their long commute home, when
they did accept and join their dinner table, another truly rich multicultural conversation
filled their homes. From my observation, conversations about culture around food were
the most accessible and frequent for all participants, since it was a part of everyone’s
daily routines, and it was truly cultural. Even if the tutors did not join their formal meals,
drinks and snacks were served during the tutoring sessions which also developed into
small cultural talks. As such, the Volunteer Home Tutoring program can provide an ideal
safe environment for the children to develop a multicultural identity by sending Japanese
tutors who hope for their best into their homes.
Lastly, the Volunteer Home Tutoring program served its purpose of contributing
to children’s academic language and literacy development, an area where these children
were mostly lagging behind at school. The tutors brought literacy related materials, such
as hiragana, katakana and kanji exercises, books, and educational games, which were not
sufficient in their homes. They engaged the children in multiple literacy practices, such as
kanji learning, book reading, and reading comprehension exercises. In fact, one teacher
commented on the student’s progress in reading aloud fluently after his participation in
the program. Even in cases where the childrern’s literacy development was not clearly
visible, they were socialized into Japanese literacy practices which interactions could be
applied to classroom practices at school.
9.2.5 Multiculturalism in the Japanese Schools
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In contrast to multiculturalism found in children’s homes with the participation of
Japanese tutors, multiculturalism in their schools seems to be a veneer on the surface,
permeated with the ideology of monoculturalism, and which can be easily peeled off.
Especially at a school where multicultural children are a small minority, their
multiculturalism was contained in one first grade class where the majority of them were
placed together. With the teacher’s best intention, multicultural children learn Japanese
slowly but successfully in class as well as by pull-out JSL instruction with a regularly
visiting teacher. At this school, multiculturalism was not celebrated at all and the students
were not encouraged to speak their home languages, even among those who shared the
same languages.
At schools where multicultural children were not an insignificant minority,
“hallway multiculturalism” (Hoffman, 1996) was evident, in and around Kokusai
classroom and even in the face of the school entrance. At some schools, the teachers
valued the students’ languages and cultures and provided opportunities for them to learn
and experience them right at school. However, these seemingly multicultural events were
not extended to Japanese students. At the other school, a multicultural event was planned
for the students to show their heritage and languages on stage in front of their peers. The
students felt uncomfortable being displayed on stage, precisely because it was an
unnatural setting of multiculturalism in the realm of monocultural audience. These are all
carefully planned and well intended events. However, unless the everyday events and
routines display diversity, true multiculturalism cannot be achieved in Japanese schools.
To give some credit to the Japanese schools and teachers genuine efforts, they
have had an efficient start in integrating multicultural students into their classrooms, and
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they are heading towards the right direction. Thanks to western literature on immigrant
children’s language and identity studies, it is common and accepted knowledge that
children’s home language is important for their academic language as well as their
identity development. Therefore, no teacher would advise their parents to speak to their
children in Japanese at home. On the contrary, Kokusai class teachers encouraged the
parents and children to speak their own languages at home for maintenance and identity
construction. However, not knowing their real home language use situation and
children’s language abilities, they were unable to give further advice. In sum,
multiculturalism in Japanese schools is too contained for children to fully take advantage
of it.
In contrast, Japanese schools did more to help children develop their Japanese
literacy. At a school where monolingualism was the norm, the teacher and the Japanese
students reinforced their multicultural peer’s integration into the classroom by celebrating
his Japanse literacy development. In kokusai class, teachers concentrated on the students’
Japanese language learning so that they could keep up with their classmates. When the
bilingual teachers who spoke the students’ home languages were available at school, their
sole responsibility was to assist students to make a quick transition to the mainstream
classroom, and they did not make the most out of their linguistic resources. It is no
surprise that these kokusai classrooms remained to be a monolingual environment.
Therefore, home was the only multilingual contexts where the children could nurture
their language and identities.
9.3 Implications of the Study for Educators and Researchers
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The creation of a mutually appreciating home ecology enabled the multicultural
children to speak their languages and express their multicultural identities in the presence
of the Japanese tutors, which led them to their multilingual socialization and learning
enrichment. Thus, the Volunteer Home Tutoring program can be seen to be successful in
helping students in their language and identity development. The examples presented
here imply the prospect of a model educational program for promoting multiculturalism
in the community. In addition, Japanese educators do not have to depend solely on such
volunteerism. Individual front line school teachers can take active roles as facilitators, as
fieldwork researchers, and as mediators between theory and practice to make this world a
better place for all diverse individuals. The following section discusses the implications
of my findings for theoretical, educational, and research practices and identifies
alternative ways to address multiculturalism in Japan and around the world.
9.3.1 Theoretical Implications of This Study
Language socialization and identities
As discussed in Chapter 2, the recent theoretical perspective of applying language
socialization theory to multilingual contexts (Bayley & Schecter, 2003) proved to be
fruitful in this study. Multicultural children were not just objects of language
socialization, but also its agents, influencing the speech of their parents, for instance.
Taro socialized himself into the Japanese tutoring practices by imitating the tutor
correcting his mother’s Japanese pronunciation. In other words, their socialization cannot
be accomplished without their active participation. Individuals engage in such multidirectional interactions in age-appropriate ways from a very young age throughout their
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lives. This perspective that socialization is a practice, rather than a developmental process,
is supported by this study.
Another premise of recent language socialization theory is that socialization
involves many socializing agents, rather than a one-on-one interaction (de la Piedra &
Romo, 2003). In this study, interactions were most dynamic and multi-directional when
multiple participants were present. Ngoc’s case exemplifies this claim. During the
tutoring sessions, the presence of her study-mates of different ages, along with the tutor,
positioned her in numerous ways. She asked for help to the tutor, to her study-mate, or
she offered help to her peers or students younger than her. In this manner, the novice and
the expert role dynamically switched back and forth, and the girls negotiated giving out
answers to each other. This goes back to the perspective that language socialization is
multi-directional and the novice can be the agent of socialization practices.
In addition to illustrating language socialization as a dynamic interactive practice,
identity became central to the discussions, particularly in contexts where more than one
language was used. When multicultural children had opportunities for choice, they chose
a bilingual persona in the multilingual interactions they were socialized into. When
Rokuro was surrounded by his Spanish speaker acquaintances, he intermittently threw a
Spanish word in here and there to interact with his community members, while
communicating in Japanese with the tutor. In such instances, the significance lies more
on the child being socialized through his identity choice, rather than the language he was
producing. No matter how basic and simple his Spanish was, the ways in which he
effectively switched his linguistic persona from one language to another is noteworthy.
This was the kind of opportunity for identity choice which many members of a
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multilingual community are socialized into. As such, this dissertation showed value in
incorporating recent discourse about identity into a language socialization framework
(Bayley & Schecter, 2003).
Identities and language learning
Negotiation of identities theory (Blackledge & Pavlenko, 2001; Pavlenko &
Blackledge, 2004) is a powerful tool to view individual’s positionings (Davies & Harré,
1990) as multiple, as a site of struggle, and as changing over time (Weedon, 1987).
Multicultural children in this study negotiated their identities in multiple ways by
reflexively positioning themselves. When they had to choose and negotiate one identity
over another, negotiation became a site of struggle. Even within a short period of time
and space, children changed their view of themselves. One incident could change their
positioning, as exemplified by Taro’s incident of his peers questioning his Cambodian as
English. After this incident, he came home not wanting to speak Cambodian. Another
example is Rokuro’s mother telling him of his place of birth as Japan. Before, he thought
he was Peruvian. However, his mother convinced him that he was Japanese because he
was born in Japan. As such, this study supports the understanding of identities as multiple
positionings negotiated through discursive practices, as a site of struggle, and subject to
change.
Even though this framework has been most effectively employed to examine
identities of adolescent to adult participants who can offer complex accounts of
negotiation of identities in specific contexts in writing (Kinginger, 2004; Pavlenko, 2004),
or construct identities in statements or interviews (Blackledge, 2004), this study showed
that this analysis also allowed investigating identities of participants of younger age.
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Some researchers question young participants’ ability to clearly articulate their thoughts.
However, I found from my research experience with children that the key is long-term
relationships so that they feel comfortable expressing their emotions. Children do not
have to be articulate narrators nor an autobiographer to express their identities. For
example, even if children sometimes found it difficult to answer identity related questions,
when asked again on different occasions, their response became more elaborate, and both
of these responses reflected their positioning. As such, this study contributes to the
understanding of younger individual’s identity issues.
In addition, understanding of identity negotiation has only been employed to
illuminate the relationship between language and identity. In this study, whether
children’s opportunities to negotiate their identities influence their language development
and home language use was examined. The findings suggest that at times, negotiation
allows children to use their home language, and in turn may facilitate language learning
or maintenance. Rokuro’s awarness of having to negotiate his Japanese identity in
Spanish when he visits Peru is a good example of his investment (Norton, 1993; 1995) in
learning the relevant expression in his home language. At other times, negotiation of
identities did not particularly facilitate language development. For example, many of
Taro’s multicultural practices could be carried out in Japanese only. Even though these
are two contradicting observations, this dissertation made a step toward examining a
relationship between negotiation of identities and language learning.
Language attitudes and ideologies
As previous studies have been conducted to understand how language attitudes
and ideologies are linked to language policies (Ricento, 2000) and local practices of
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teaching and learning (Ramanathan, 2005; Timm, 2005), this study has also reproduced
the same claim. By analyzing school teachers’ interview responses, their attitudes and
ideologies of monoculturalism were found to be embedded in their ideal vision of
multiculturalism. School teachers, especially kokusai class teachers, hoped for
multicultural students to be bilingual and value their cultural identities. However, they are
only able to measure their bilingualism with a monolingual yardstick, only knowing their
Japanese language proficiency, and failing to recognize such student as Ngoc’s ability to
function in a meaningful manner in two languages. As a result, her teacher gives
ineffective advice to such students’ parents to speak in their home languages at home,
without knowing that Ngoc does speak her home language to her parents at home.
This study also illustrated how these beliefs and ideologies are produced and
distributed in discursive practices (Fairclough, 1992). As mentioned above, the discourse
of “the importance of students L1 maintenance for identity development” was repeatedly
produced by the teachers. This is reflected in their school practices of organizing
“International assembly” and “International week” to provide opportunities for the
students to speak their home languages at school. However, without knowing, the
discourse of “speaking home languages at school as a embarrassment” is formalized in a
printed booklet of Ngoc’s kokusai class students’ work collection and distributed at the
end of the school year. Even more problematic was the way these kinds of assembly
exoticized multilingualism in a way that was embarrassing to the children. This attitude
toward multiculturalism is reproduced and reinforced at every “International event.”
As such, teachers’ unconscious ideologies impacted their school and teaching
practices, and in some cases, rendered multicultural children’s multiple identities
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invisible and “erased” (Irvine & Gal, 2000), and functioned toward children’s
assimilation into a monocultural society. Rokuro’s case is such example. Being a small
minority in his school, the classroom teacher simply encouraged and celebrated his
Japanese language development, without noticing his Peruvian identity. Therefore, at
school, Rokuro is assimilated into the Japanese norm, and home is the one place where he
can display his multiplicity. This dissertation illustrated how language attitudes and
ideologies are generated in discourses and how they influence every day practices of
school communities and society in the Japanese context.
9.3.2 Implications for Educational Practices
The fundamental question is how to secure multicultural student’s academic
success and well being in the Japanese educational system. First of all, teachers must
acknowledge that multicultural student’s development cannot be measured by the same
yardstick as other students. A multicultural child may not know how to say “cousin” in
Japanese, but he may know how to say it in Cambodian. Multicultural students may not
be able to spell「学校」“gakkō” [school] appropriately in grade one like the other
students, but he will be able to in grade two. Once teachers pay attention to what they can
do instead of what they cannot do, their developmental growth becomes visible. In order
to do so, teachers should know their student’s linguistic and cultural background.
Teachers can make an effort to find out about their student’s home language ability,
especially their literacy skills so that they can determine whether their language skills are
transferable to Japanese literacy skills.
In addition to developing different assessment tools to evaluate multicultural
children’s academic growth, opportunities for them to pursue secondary and post-
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secondary education must be widened in Japan. There are two major factors contributing
to multicultural students’ limited access to higher education. First, ethnic schools
attended by these students are not accredited by the Ministry of Education in Japan.
Therefore, even if they graduate ethnic junior or senior high school, they are not qualified
to take the entrance examinations for Japanese senior high schools or colleges. Secondly,
and more seriously, even if they were to take these entrance exams, it is extremely
difficult for them to pass the standardized and challenging exams in Japanese. This is
because there are no special measures taken for these students to take the exams. More
special admissions for such students and alternative ways to assess these students future
academic potential must be developed so that these multilingual citizens of Japan can
participate in secondary and higher education.
Along this line, the Japanese definition of a “bilingual” should be reconceptualized and the use of this term in Japanese educational settings should be reinvented, as it has gradually been expanded and refined in the field of bilingualism
(Noguchi, 2001). A current conceptual understanding of the term as “a speaker with a
rather good command of all four skills in Japanese and English” is too restrictive,
unrealistic, and completely inappropriate. According to this definition, none of the
multicultural children in this study will qualify as a bilingual. As a result, they are
positioned as double limited bilinguals, or semilinguals (Romaine, 1989/1995) who are
capable in neither of their languages. Again, this “bilingual” ideology is inappropriate
and impossible to reach, not only for multicultural children in this study but for many of
us. When the educators shift their focus on what the students can do in two languages,
rather than what they cannot do, they will soon realize this strict definition of “bilinguals”
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must be modified. If the definition was extended to include “the speakers who use two
languages in a meaningful manner,” not only multicultural children but also some
Japanese students who study English as a foreign language will be included in this
category. As such, this study arrives to the conclusion that every child is different and
possesses multicultural identities.
Regarding multilingual identities, this study has made similar observations to
previous research that students become more reluctant to display their home languages as
they get older and as they reach the upper grades (Kanno, 2004). In my study, students
show reluctance as they enter elementary school, even before reaching the upper grades.
This is also when children start to recognize the existence of other countries besides their
own (Lambert & Klineberg, 1967; Nakajima, 1998). If this is the time when multicultural
children become conscious of their identities and reject their home languages, this is also
the time when their languages can very quickly and very easily be lost (Yukawa, 1998).
Considering these timing issues, children must be educated about multiculturalism and
multilingualism in their early age of elementary school so that they can learn to be proud
of their own heritage and respect diversities of others.
In order to promote multiculturalism in schools, teachers initiate cultural
promotions such as “International week” and “L1 maintenance class.” However, as this
study indicated, this deliberate internationalization method in favor of the foreign
representatives raises complaints and objections from students themselves (Takahashi &
Vaipae, 1996, cited in Morita, 2002). Also, the unfamiliarity with special reinforcement
of racial and ethnic diversity perhaps only makes an artificial impression on Japanese
children. Providing opportunities for widening Japanese student’s cultural knowledge
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through ethnic performance and material exhibition is significant. However, without daily
basis efforts, cultural demonstrations can run counter to their original purpose. Perhaps, a
smaller scale cultural enrichment education conducted in each classroom would be more
beneficial and accessible to each student. “Kokusai rikai kyositsu (International
understanding class) is an education program initiated in some schools which could be
beneficial to this end. These programs aim “to provide students with global and
international perspectives in learning and thinking” and “to promote cross-cultural
understanding and communication between Japanese and newcomer students” (Ōta,
2000).
9.3.3 Promotion of Volunteer Home Tutoring program
In such a state of affairs, the Volunteer Home Tutoring program plays a
significant role in providing multicultural educational activity to the youth who grew up
in a predominantly monolingual community. First year and second year college students
in their late teens or early twenties learn about multiculturalism in their community and
Japanese language education before being sent to individual homes for tutoring. At first,
they exhibit anxieties toward visiting “foreign” homes and toward teaching Japanese to
“foreigners.” However, they soon recognize their racial prejudice and are amazed how
proficent the “foreigner’s” Japanese is. After one or two years of service in this activity,
college students seem to show significant attitudinal change towards multiculturalism. A
quick tallying a survey of students’ language attitude indicates that students who
participated in the program show greater awareness towards foreign residents, are more
welcoming, and are more willing to learn another language besides English, compared to
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those who have not participated in the activity. Empirical analysis of this survey along
with student interviews and journals is left for future writing.
In addition, volunteerism is a rather new concept in Japan, and was not always
encouraged, especially for female students. Volunteering participation was not
necessarily considered a positive experience, and in some cases hindered receiving job
offers when female students proudly spoke of their volunteering experience in the
program during a job interview (interview with Professor Chaves, November 9, 2007).
However, times have changed and Japanese society has started to see the merit of
volunteerism and its participation. Being the pioneer of providing volunteer activities for
female students and engaging in multiculturalism in Japan, there is much to learn from
this educational program. College years is an ideal period for such volunteer participation
when adolescents grow up as adults and become mature and responsible of their own
actions and choices.
Moreover, the Volunteer Home Tutoring program can play a role in bridging
multicultural children’s homes, schools, and the communities. School teachers are often
unfamiliar with what is going on in children’s homes and how their learning environment
is at home. Volunteer home tutors have opportunities to observe children closely at home
and understand their strengths and weaknesses in learning. They may possibly be able to
bridge the gap between teacher’s knowledge of the child and what the child is actually
able to do. In addition, home tutors are more likely to notice any personal issues children
might have at school such as bullying (Miyazaki, Miyamoto, & Arita, 2009). In worst
cases, school teachers may be completely unaware of children being bullied (Morita,
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2002). However, given the serious nature of bullying in schools, this issue must be taken
care of with great sensitivity.
Lastly, the program provides the benefit of home tutoring in developing children’s
academic literacy in Japanese. The tutors typically bring basic literacy materials to their
homes and assist the children to become engaged in novice literacy practices. I believe
they could do more to enhance their learning and to promote critical literacy skills. The
tutors could bring a Japanese book regularly and engage the children in book reading
practices. They should make sure that the books are age-appropriate and interesting to the
children. It would be beneficial for the children to be asked the same kinds of questions
that the teachers ask or ones that students regularly encounter in written tests at school.
Children should be provided opportunities to answer orally as well as in written form.
Most recently, the program has transformed its shape a great deal in the past year,
and currently they provide student assistance directly in multicultural student’s public
elementary schools. Since October 2008, the program has started to send college students
to three local elementary schools, including Ngoc’s school, all of which are located in the
vicinity of the college. The volunteers are placed either in regular class or Kokusai class,
depending on the needs of each school and student. In regular class, a tutor pulls over a
chair and sits right next to a student and assists the student with following the classroom
teacher’s instructions. When the teacher tells the class to read a certain passage in the
kokugo textbook, the tutor points to the line and reads the passage together with the child.
In Kokusai class where there are more students than the teachers, the student tutors assist
each child individually with their kanji practice writing, for instance. At another school, a
child receives private tutoring during “gakudō” [after school care] in an open classroom,
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instead of at home. There is much more potential for this program to build a cooperative
nurturing multicultural environment in their community, schools, and children’s homes.
9.3.4 Implications of Ethnographic Studies in Japan
This full scale ethnographic study illustrated the lives of multicultural children in
the Japanese society and unveils the realities they experience, which are virtually
unexplored in the questionnaire and interview based studies. My participant observation
of multicultural children’s everyday interactions in multiple dimensions at home and
school contexts and in-depth contextualized data analysis shed lights on their strategic
language use in multicultural socialization and identity construction, appearing as
developing multiple identities and surviving school academics. The three multicultural
children’s cases demonstrate their voluntary home language use and multiple identity
performance in the presence of a Japanese tutor to create a multicultural environment at
home. In such a comfortable environment, their social and academic enrichment through
tutoring is enhanced.
As the next step in promoting educational research on multicultural children,
intensive ethnographic study should be extended beyond their upper grade elementary
school to junior and senior high school experience. In fact, one of the multicultural
students I have encountered was in junior high school preparing to enter high school. A
rapid shift of academic contents to a more difficult level makes the transitional
adjustment from junior to high school education very challenging even for Japanese
students, much more for a multicultural student with a literacy handicap. The student
failed to pass the entrance exam for his first choice high school, and ended up in a second
tier private school where many “yankee” [delinquents] occupy the campus (according to
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the student). The escalating academic pressure and adolescent social anxiety have
produced a significant number of dropouts in junior and high schools. In order to foster
their continual school success, there is a pressing need for follow-up studies to examine
the daily experience of multicultural students in junior and senior high school.
Furthermore, intensively focused ethnographic research on a diversity of racial
and ethnic groups is highly recommended. Even though this study covering multicultural
children from three different ethnic backgrounds provided good means of comparison,
each child’s case in itself could have been a separate study. Other racial and ethnic
children most likely encounter different realities in their Japanese social attendance just
like the Cambodian, Peruvian, and Vietnamese children in this study. The fourth biggest
group participating in the Volunteer Home Tutoring program was the Laotian families.
Even though Cambodians, Vietnamese, and Laotians tend to be grouped as “Indochinese
refugees,” each carries different kinds of resources to Japan (Shimizu, 2006). Just as
“Asian” is not a homogeneous group category, these three independent nations have their
individualities. In order to find this out, the best method of inquiry is longitudinal
ethnographic study. A questionnaire or short term interview based studies will only
provide a homogeneous view of the group being investigated. One group which has
attracted much attention is Brazilians (Morita, 2002), and other groups deserving the
same attention and care are Bolivians and Chinese in this community where this study
was conducted.
In conclusion, I discuss my methodological and pragmatic perspectives to
promote ethnographic research in Japanese educational settings. First, in order to gain
credibility from educators in institutions, ethnographic fieldwork must be popularized as
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a scientifically regulated research method, and its benefits must be known. Many
educational institutions in Japan are still very reluctant to accept research requests,
especially longitudinally designed research, as if accepting such request means “selling
their students to the researchers.” Most recently, their biggest concern is confidentiality
of personal information. Therefore, it is critical for ethnographic researchers to explain its
beneficial methodology and the protocol of human subject research in order to gain
access to the schools and students in Japan.
Second, the findings of ethnographic research must be applied in everyday
teaching practice. Ethnographic fieldwork is not simply a fact-finding approach, but it has
the potential for problem solving. To realize the pragmatic goal of ethnographic research,
creating collaborative partnerships between researchers and practitioners is fundamental.
Once the practitioners see the applicability of the scholars’ educational theories to the
everyday realities of school, they will be more willing to lower their threshold towards
allowing outside researchers into their sites. Without a relationship of trusted teamwork
between teachers and researchers, educational reform cannot be expected.
In addition, practitioner’s research (Anderson et.al., 1994) or action research
(Nunan, 1992) can be conducted in schools by teachers as ethnographers. The defining
characteristics of action research are that it is carried out by practitioners rather than
outside researchers, that it can be collaborative, and that it can aim at changing things. A
distinctive feature of such research is that those who plan the changes have the primary
responsibility for deciding on courses of informed action which is expected to lead to
improvement. Therefore, another responsibility is to evaluate the results of strategies
tried out for change. On the other hand, practitioner’s research is not as strictly defined,
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and a descriptive case study of a particular classroom or a single learner counts as
practitioner’s research. Teachers who have access to the everyday lives of the children
can be the best ethnographers. Together, the most appropriate vision of multiculturalism
can be created and implemented in Japan.
9.4 Multicultural Children’s Roles in Transforming Japan into a Multilingual
Nation
Multicultural children in this study are multilinguals who use two languages
regularly in a meaningful manner in Japan. Their multicultural identities are multiple, a
site of struggle, and are subject to change (Weedon, 1987). With their family and a small
amount of encouragement from the Japanese tutors, children express and negotiate their
multiple identities at home. Their small space of multiculturalism at home must be
extended outside, to their schools and to their communities, so that they can nurture their
home languages and construct their own identities they choose as most comfortable for
them. In this manner, children can play a role in transforming Japan into a multilingual
nation. Finally, I conclude this story with children’s current state and their future,
envisioning the same multicultural world I mentioned in Chapter One.
In May 2009, when I visited the Cambodian home, Taro was playing with his
niece who was six months old. He said that when he played with her, he told her funny
stories and she made funny sounds. The mother, Botum spoke to him in Cambodian and
he responded in a mixture of Cambodian and Japanese. He ate his favorite Cambodian
food, and accompanied his father, Ryo on weekends to cultural activities to sell
Cambodian goods for fundraising for poor Cambodian communities back home. At
school, he was in grade two and was enrolled in the pull-out kokusai class. He attended
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the kokusai class with his favorite female friend, Aimi, the Cambodian-Japanese girl in
his regular class. He left his regular class a few times a week to study kokugo and math in
kokusai class and had several different teachers. One of them was Ms. Hidaka, the
Cambodian teacher, whom he openly spoke his home language to at school. However,
Ms. Hidaka was going on maternity leave soon. Contrary to my prediction that he would
do well academically at school, his first grades were not exceptionally good. He received
mostly triangles, and more circles only as the year progressed (Double circle is the best
grade). According to Ryo, Taro’s father, Taro does not like studying very much. When I
asked Taro if he had been practicing his dance moves, he was surprised that I knew his
future dream to become a dancer. He answered no, and he confessed to me about his new
dream of becoming a soccer player. Now he played soccer on weekends.
The Peruvian family had to postpone their planned visit back home to Peru in
February for a year due to the father, Vasco’s, work schedule. Rokuro still expressed his
anxiety of going and repeated “Peru ikitaku nai” [I don’t want to go to Peru.] When we
were talking about his older sister, Yoko’s, place of birth in Lima, Peru, and Rokuro’s
birth in Kanagawa, Japan, he negotiated his belonging to Japan by claiming “Yatta! Ja
Nihonjin da!” [Yay! Then (I am) Japanese!]. To this optimistic assumption, his mother,
Calista, softly commented “Chigau yo.” [That’s not right] At school, he was in grade
three, without having any pull-out Japanese instruction. His second year grades fluctuated
as his home environment changed drastically. He received mostly circles in the first
semester, then a lot more triangles in the second semester. His grades recovered back to
standard in the third semester. The family predicted that this was due to the fact that two
of their acquaintances, Iliana and Ken had stayed with them during the second semester,
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and he could not concentrate on studying at home. Now they had moved out (or were
kicked out) of their home, and Rokuro had a new family member, Taichi, who was
staying with them to prepare for college entrance exams. Rokuro changed his soccer club
due to some conflicts with his coach, and was happy with his new club and coach. His
aspiration to become a soccer player some day in the future remained intact.
The Vietnamese girl, Ngoc, was not home when I visited her apartment. Instead,
her friend Phuong opened the door. Phuong went out to get Ngoc who was at a nearby
park with Nhu, Linh, and two other Japanese friends. After a while, Phuong came back
all by herself explaining to me that the girls did not want to come to the apartment. I was
puzzled and as I prepared to leave the apartment to meet them at the park, Ngoc alone ran
up the stairs to meet us. She did not explain why the other girls did not want to come up
to the apartment. After eating together their favorite donuts I had bought from ‘Mister
Donuts,’ I took out a picture book about a Vietnamese girl who is bullied at school
because of her difference (Appendix Six). I asked them if they wanted to read it, and
Phuong volunteered to read aloud. After Phuong finished reading, I asked both of them
“What did you think?” Phuong had an opinion, and said she would not wear Vietnamese
clothes nor bring Vietnamese food to school because “hazukashii” [(it is) embarrassing].
Ngoc simply responded “futsū” [ordinary/normal]. This was a default word she used
when she did not have any opinion to express. When I asked them “What is your future
dream?,” Ngoc used that word again “futsū no hito” [(I want to be) an ordinary/normal
person]. As we started playing some games and were making loud noises, the other girls
came into the apartment. The girls did not look too happy and one of them said, “Benkyo
shite nai jan” [(They) are not studying]. They walked in the other room without greeting
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us, and Ngoc shut the door after talking to one of the girls. She mediated between us by
bringing some donuts I bought to the other girls, ignoring my yelling at them “If you
want my donuts, you have to come over here!” She was in the midst of girls’ peer politics,
and her peer group seemed to be growing bigger and more diverse, including some
Japanese girls. Ngoc was playing her multiple roles well, and I pictured her future, not as
an ordinary girl, but as an extraordinary individual.
Taro, Rokuro, and Ngoc’s multicultural adventures to be continued…
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Appendix One: Interview Questions for Family Participants
家族へのインタビュー
個人情報
• 年齢／出生地／国籍／学歴／家族構成
• 渡日の経緯
• 自国と日本での職業
• 言語使用
- 会話／読み書き
- いつ／どんなときにどの言語を使うか
- 言語能力の自己評価
言語態度
• あなたの子どもは、あなたと話すときに何語で話しますか？
• 子どもの母国語能力は、どうですか？
• 子どもがバイリンガルであることをどう思いますか？利点がありますか？
どんな利点ですか？
• 子どもが母国語を保持することは、あなたにとってどれほど大切なことで
すか？
• 子どもがもしその言語を忘れたら、何を失うことになりますか？
アイデンティティに関する質問
• 子どもは、日本語で話すときと母国語で話すときと、人格が同じですか？
[English translation]
Interview for family members
Personal information
• Age/Place of birth/Nationality/Education/Family composition
• History of migration
• Occupation in their home country and Japan
• Language use
-Speaking/ reading and writing
-When/ in what circumstances which language is used
-Self evaluation of languages
Language attitudes
• In what language do your children speak to you?
• How is your children’s mother language ability?
• What do you think about your children’s bilingualism? Are there advantages?
What are the advantages?
• How important is it for you that your children maintain the mother language?
• If your children forget the mother language, what will they lose?
Identity related question
• When your children speak in Japanese or in the mother language, are their
personality the same?
368
子どもたちへのインタビュー
個人情報
• 何歳？何年生？学校の名前は？
• どこで生まれた？国籍はどこ？家族は何人？
• 何語が話せる？どっちのほうが得意？
- 読み書きができる？どのぐらいできる？
- いつ、誰と日本語を使う？いつ、誰と母語を使う？
言語態度
• 母国語は何？どうしてそれが母国語だと思う？
• バイリンガル？いいこと？何がいいこと？
• 母語ができることはあなたにとって大切なこと？どのぐらい大切？
• もしその言語を忘れたら、どうなる？～人じゃなくなる？
• 学校で国際教室に入っている？
アイデンティティに関する質問
• 自分は何人？自分は外国人？～人ってどんな人？
• ほかの人に、自分は～人だっていったことある？
• 日本人の前で自分の母国語を話すこともある？
• 日本語で話すときと母国語で話すときと、同じ性格？
• 日本語と母語とどっちのほうがすき？
• 日本と母国とどっちのほうがすき？
[English translation]
Interview for children
Personal information
• How old are you? What grade are you in? What is the name of your school?
• Where were you born? What is your citizenship? How many family members?
• What language can you speak? Which are you better at?
-Can you read and write (in that language)? How much?
-When, to whom do you use Japanese or your home language?
Language attitudes
• What is your mother language? Why do you consider it your mother language?
• Are you bilingual? Is that a good thing? What is good about it?
• Is it important for you to be capable in your mother language? How important?
• What happens if you forget the language? Will you stop becoming that nationality?
• Are you in koksuai class at school?
Identity related questions
• What nationality are you? Are you a foreigner? What is (your nationality) like?
• Have you ever told other people that you are (your nationality)?
• Do you speak your mother language in front of Japanese people?
• Are you the same personality when you speak in Japanese or in your mother
language?
• Which do you like better, Japanese or your mother language?
• Which do you like better, Japan or your (parents) home country?
369
Appendix Two: Interview Questions for School Teachers
国際教室の先生へのインタビュー
国際教室の授業と生徒について
１． 国際教室の生徒の人数と国籍
２． 時間割
３． 授業内容
４． 役割
５． 改善点
調査対象の生徒たちについて
１． 日本語能力
２． 学力
３． 母国語
４． 母国
５． 将来像
[English translation]
Interview for kokusai class teachers
About kokusai classes and students
1. Number and nationality of kokusai class students
2. Class schedule
3. Class content
4. Role of kokusai class
5. Possible improvements
About focal students
1. Japanese ability
2. Academic ability
3. Mother language
4. Home country
5. Future projection
370
担任の先生へのインタビュー
先生について
外国籍児童達について
１． 生徒の人数と国籍
２．外国籍の生徒たちのクラスわけ
３．外国籍の生徒たちの日本語力・学力
４．外国籍の生徒たちへの配慮
５．外国籍の生徒たちがいてよい点、困る点
調査対象の生徒について
１． 日本語能力
２． 学力
３． 母国語
４．母国
５．将来像
＊日本語指導員について
[English translation]
Interview for regular class teachers
About the teacher
About students of foreign descent
1. Number and nationality of students
2. Class distibution of students of foreign descent
3. Japanese and academic abilitiy of students of foreign descent
4. Accomodations for students of foreign descent
5. Advantages and disadvantages of having students of foreign descent
About the focal student
1. Japanese ability
2. Academic ability
3. Mother language
4. Home country
5. Future projection
*About Japanese language instructors
371
Appendix Three: Interview Questions for Program Staff Members
家庭教師ボランティアプログラムコーディネーターへのインタビュー
家庭教師ボランティアプログラムへのかかわり
１． いつから？
２．どのような経緯で？
３．役割は？
４．週に何日、何時間ぐらい？
５．ほかの仕事、勉強との両立？海外生活？
６．プログラムの成果
７．プログラムの改善点
四家庭について
１．ペルーからの家庭、六郎
２．カンボジアからの家庭、太郎
３．ベトナムからの家庭、ゴック
４．ペルーからの家庭
５．アイデンティティとは？
[English translation]
Interview for Volunteer Home Tutoring progam coordinators
Involvement in Volunteer Home Tutoring program
1. Since when?
2. How did you become involved?
3. Your responsibilities?
4. How many times a week, how many hours of work?
5. What other jobs/studying do you have and how do you balance your time?
Experience of living abroad?
6. Program accomplishments
7. Program improvements
About the four families
1. Peruvian family, Rokuro
2. Cambodian family, Taro
3. Vietnamese family, Ngoc
4. Peruvian family
5. What is identity?
372
Appendix Four: Interview Questions for Student Volunteer Tutors
学生ボランティアへのインタビュー
家庭教師ボランティアプログラムへのかかわり
１．いつからいつまで何曜日に何時から何時まで誰の支援をしていたか？
２．どうしてボランティアプログラムに参加したか？
３．参加した感想は？よかった？よくなかった？何がよかった？何か学んだ？
４．プログラムをより良くするために提案があるか？
５．卒業後の予定は？進路は？将来の夢は？
家庭について
１．どんな活動をしていたか？何をどのように教えていたか？
２．何か変化・進歩（学力・日本語力・人間関係）が見られたか？
３．学習者の日本語をどう思うか？何ができなかったか？
４．学習者が母語を話しているのを聞いたことがあるか？どんなときだったか？
５．日本人と同じか？違うか？何が違う？
＊一番印象に残っている日
[English translation]
Interview for student volunteers
Involvement in Volunteer Home Tutoring program
1. Since when and until when, what day of the week, from what time to what time,
to whom?
2. Why did you participate in this volunteer program?
3. What did you think about it? Good? Not good? What was good? What did you
learn?
4. Do you have any recommendations to make the program even better?
5. What are your plans after graduation? Your paths? Your future dreams?
About the family
1. What kinds of activities did you do? What and how did you teach?
2. Did you see any changes/progress (academic abilities/Japanese language
abilities/relationships)?
3. What do you think about the learner’s Japanese? What could the learner not do?
4. Have you ever heard the learner speak the mother language? When was it?
5. Is the learner same as Japanese? What is different?
*The most memorable day
373
Appendix Five: Language Attitude Survey for Junior College Students
言語態度のアンケート
このアンケートは、日本人の外国人・外国語に対する態度の研究調査です。この
研究の参加に伴う身体的、心理的、社会的、法的危険はありません。この研究に
参加することで参加者が直接受ける恩恵はありません。このアンケートは匿名で
す。研究への参加を断っても、研究が始まってから中断してもかまいません。答
えたくない質問に対して答えなくてもかまいません。このアンケート記入を完成
することにより、あなたが研究の参加に同意したということを示します。
次の１番から１０番までの文の内容にどれほど賛成ですか？１から７の数字に１
つ丸をつけてください。コメントがある場合には、ご記入ください。
1. 日本に住む外国人は、増えている。
そう思う
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
そう思わない
コメント：
2. 日本に住む外国人は、大体、歓迎である。
そう思う
1
2
3
4
5
コメント：
6
3. 日本に住む外国人は、もっと増えたほうがいい。
そう思う
1
2
3
4
5
6
コメント：
7
そう思わない
7
そう思わない
4. 日本に住む外国人の話す日本語は、一般的に上手である。
そう思う
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
コメント：
そう思わない
5. 日本に住む外国人は、普段の生活で日本語を話したほうがいい。
そう思う
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
そう思わない
コメント：
6. 日本に住む外国人は、普段の生活で母国語を話したほうがいい。
そう思う
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
そう思わない
コメント：
7. 日本に住む外国人は、普段の生活で日本語も母国語も両方、話したほうが
いい。
そう思う
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
そう思わない
コメント：
374
8. 日本人は、英語を習ったほうがいい。
そう思う
1
2
3
4
コメント：
5
6
9. 日本人は、英語以外の外国語を習ったほうがいい。
そう思う
1
2
3
4
5
6
コメント：
7
そう思わない
7
そう思わない
10.日本は、もっと多言語、多文化社会になるべきである。
そう思う
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
コメント：
そう思わない
個人情報をご記入ください。
性別
年齢
出生地
国籍
人種
母国語
男
女
ほかに勉強した／できる言語
言語
言語
レベル
レベル
海外で生活した経験
国
国
ない
滞在期間
滞在期間
ある
外国人と定期的に接する機会
ある ない
ある場合、外国人の国籍／人種
外国人の母国語
あなたとの関係
＊ボランティア家庭教師の場合、その旨ご記入ください。
言語を教えた経験
言語
ある ない
教えた期間
ご協力ありがとうございました！
375
[English translation]
Language Attitude Questionnaire
This survey is for research to investigate Japanese people’s attitudes toward foreign
people/foreign languages. The possibility of physical, psychological, social or legal
injury from participating in this study is very low. It is possible that you will not benefit
directly from participating in this study. The survey is anonymous. You may refuse to
participate in this study. You may change your mind about being in the study and quit
after the study has started. You can also choose not to answer questions you don’t want to
answer. Completion of this survey indicates your consent to participate in this study.
How strongly do you agree with the content of the following statements numbered one
through ten? Please circle one number from one through seven. If you have any
comments, please write them down.
1. The number of foreign residents in Japan is increasing.
Strongly
1
2
3
4
5
6
Agree
Comments:
2. Foreign residents in Japan are generally welcomed.
Strongly
1
2
3
4
5
6
Agree
Comments:
3. There should be more foreign residents in Japan.
Strongly
1
2
3
4
5
Agree
Comments:
6
7
Strongly
Disagree
7
Strongly
Disagree
7
Strongly
Disagree
4. Foreign residents in Japan generally speak good Japanese.
Strongly
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
Agree
Comments:
Strongly
Disagree
5. Foreign residents in Japan should speak Japanese in their daily lives.
Strongly
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
Strongly
Agree
Disagree
Comments:
6. Foreign residents in Japan should speak their mother language in their daily lives.
Strongly
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
Strongly
Agree
Disagree
Comments:
376
7. Foreign residents in Japan should speak both Japanese and their mother language
in their daily lives.
Strongly
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
Strongly
Agree
Disagree
Comments:
8. Japanese people should learn English.
Strongly
1
2
3
4
Agree
Comments:
5
6
7
Strongly
Disagree
9. Japanese people should learn another language other than English.
Strongly
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
Strongly
Agree
Disagree
Comments:
10. Japan should become a more multilingual/multicultural society.
Strongly
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
Agree
Comments:
Please provide your personal information.
Sex
Age
Place of birth
Nationality
Ethnicity
Mother language
Male Female
Other languages studied/capable
Language
Language
Experiences living abroad
Country
Country
Yes
Level
Level
No
Duration
Duration
Opportunities to interact with foreign people regularly
Yes
If yes, citizenship/ethnicity of foreign person
Mother language of foreign person
Relationship
*If you are a volunteer home tutor, please indicate as such.
Thank you very much for your cooperation!
No
Strongly
Disagree
377
Appendix Six: Picture book read at Ngoc’s home
My country is on the other side of the ocean (English translation)
My country is on the other side of the ocean. I came to Japan from far away beyond the
ocean.
When I was wearing clothes from my country beyond the ocean, I was told ‘How
strange!’ I wanted to say ‘Why? I don’t think so. It’s nice.’ But everyone stared at me, so
from the next day, I wore Japanese clothes.
My country is on the other side of the ocean. I came to Japan from far away beyond the
ocean.
When I was eating food from my country beyond the ocean, I was told ‘How strange!’ I
wanted to say ‘Why? I don’t think so. It’s good.’ But everyone hated the smell, so from
the next day, I ate Japanese lunch.
My country is on the other side of the ocean. I came to Japan from far away beyond the
ocean.
When I was reading a book from my country beyond the ocean, I was told ‘How
strange!’ I wanted to say ‘Why? I don’t think so. It’s interesting.’ But everyone said they
were not letters and wrote black X’s in the book, so from the next day, I read Japanese
books.
My country is on the other side of the ocean. I came to Japan from far away beyond the
ocean.
When I was speaking the language from my country beyond the ocean, I was told ‘How
strange!’ I wanted to say ‘Why? I don’t think so. It’s a beautiful language.’ But everyone
ignored me, so from the next day, I spoke the Japanese language.
My country is on the other side of the ocean. I came to Japan from far away beyond the
ocean.
When I wrote my name from my country beyond the ocean, I was told ‘How strange!’ I
wanted to say ‘Why? I don’t think so. It has a great meaning.’ But everyone laughed out
loud, so from the next day, I decided to change my name into Japanese. But if I change
my name, what will happen…?
I felt like I will not be myself, and I was really afraid. I thought my face will look
different in the mirror, and I looked at the mirror with horror, in the morning, day, and
night.
‘Is my name that strange?’ I thought and thought, and cried, and felt tired.
I will forget about my country beyond the ocean. Yes! I will wear the same clothes, eat
the same food, read the same books, speak the same language as everyone else, and I will
say with pride. My name is a Japanese name. My father and mother gave me a great
name from my country beyond the ocean, but I don’t want it anymore.
Now, no one laughs at me. But I am still a little afraid of the mirror.
378
One day after a long time had passed, I turned on the TV and was surprised. The country
shown on TV. Somehow familiar to me, the clothes, the food, the books, and the
language. ‘Wow! I understand this language! But why? Why do I understand?’ And when
I heard the name of the child on TV, my heart beat fast and I suddenly started crying.
What is it? Why? Somebody tell me! When the tears dropped on my knees, I thought I
heard a familiar voice. Maybe, just maybe, I came to Japan from the other side of the
ocean… And I remembered everything.
My country is on the other side of the ocean. I came to Japan from far away beyond the
ocean.
The clothes, the food, the books, the language, and the child’s name, they are all from my
country. Why did I forget? I should not forget.
Japanese people have the country Japan, and everyone has their own country. I have my
own country too. Each of them is important, and even if there are differences, we must
understand each other.
People who laughed at my clothes, my food, my books, my language, and my name.
Would they still laugh at me? But I soon realized myself. When I was new to Japan, I
thought many things were strange, and I laughed. Japanese kimono, food, hiragana,
katakana, spoken language. And I heard many friends’ names, and laughed loudly in my
heart. As I remembered these things, I felt most guilty of all times. And I said it in a soft
voice, courageously. ‘Everyone, I am sorry.’
My country is on the other side of the ocean. I came to Japan from far away beyond the
ocean.
Make other people happy and be the most beautiful shining pearl. My mother’s and
father’s greatest hope is in my name, the only one name in the world. I should be the
person they hope I will be. That’s why they gave me this name.
From now on, I don’t need a Japanese name. I am not afraid of the mirror anymore. I can
proudly say, anytime, anywhere, to anyone.
My country is on the other side of the ocean. I came to Japan from far away beyond the
ocean.
My name is Ngoc. ‘Goc’ is the pronunciation. ‘Pearl’ is the meaning. Call me ‘Goc’. And
tell me your name. I want to hear more about Japan. I want to know more. And I want to
tell you more about my country.
Then, a bridge will be built between the two countries. Two becomes three, three
becomes four, and a bridge will be built around the world. A bridge like a beautiful long
necklace, connecting pearl by pearl. A bridge where kindness crosses every time when
people laugh and understand each other.
My country is on the other side of the ocean. I came from Japan from far away beyond
the ocean.