I teach great students.

Teaching English in Japan is not always a walk in the park. Whatever difficulties there may be, motivating your students tends to be the most troubling. Teaching can be a joy, but the greatest threat to that joy is a class full of unresponsive, bored students who would rather not be there. Worse are those students who know they don’t have to try. Japanese universities are filled with students who come to class only to sleep, read comic books, chat with friends, or even use cell phones (though usually through typing, not talking).

I had a class like that once. It was when I was teaching at a YMCA up in the countryside, in Toyama Prefecture. They would rent me out to local schools, and the least liked of all was the Computer school. This was a “senmon gakkou,” or a trade school, where English Language was required on the curriculum. However, it was not really required; the students could come and sit and sleep if they wanted, and if they failed the tests, the teacher would simply be asked to have the failing students re-take the test until they passed–with an understanding that the second test would not be so hard (let’s not waste time unnecessarily, after all).

Since the students knew that they’d pass no matter what, and since it was not the core subject of their trade school, it tended to be a pretty horrible class. A teacher would be lucky if they got three minutes of the students being even halfway quiet. If the students just slept, read, or (as many of the girls were wont to do) pulled strands of hair before their eyes to inspect for loose ends, that was a good class. But usually, a class meant that students wanted to gab in Japanese, and that meant the teacher shouting for quiet every four or five minutes when the sound level of the students made it so the teacher could not be heard even in the first row–were there any students listening anyway. One of the other teachers from the Y also rented out to that school became so frustrated at one point, they actually threw an eraser at a group of chatting students. It is not a job you want to have, certainly not for any stretch of time.

So the students I have at my college today are more than just good; they are spectacular. Lakeland College is one of only two remaining U.S. colleges in Japan that have full accreditation from an American agency (the other is Temple University). Students who come to us do so because they want an American education, and they understand that this means actual work, and actual learning. These students want what the college offers. Most colleges in Japan are seen as standard diploma farms–plant yourself there for a few years, and you get a diploma. Students at Japanese institutions know they don’t have to excel too much, that many professors only read the first and last pages of their essays, and that their GPA won’t matter much.

Students at Lakeland, however, know that they must excel, and by the time they get through the pre-academic language program this has been well-established. But it’s more than just the fear of a failing grade–it’s in their hearts. they want to do well. And this was expressed better than I could otherwise describe, at a recent lecture event in Tokyo.

On November 30th, there was a speech by former Senator Nancy Kassebaum Baker (wife of US Ambassador to Japan Howard H. Baker), followed by a question-and-answer session, at the U.S. Embassy’s Tokyo American Center. After the Senator finished, students from around Tokyo were invited to step up to the microphones. The first person to do so was from Lakeland College. She stepped down, and another student stepped forward–and it was another Lakeland College student. After she finished, a young gentleman came up to the mic–and introduced himself as a student of Lakeland College before asking his question.

At this point, a moderator asked the students of Lakeland College to please give the students of other colleges and universities a chance to step up to the microphone. After all, the audience was full of students from such prestigious colleges as Tokyo University and Waseda (think of Stanford and Harvard). After that request, there was a prolonged silence. Nobody came up to the mic.

After about a minute had passed, a student finally stood up and walked to the microphone to ask a question. “Good evening,” she started. “My name is Shizuka Saito, and I’m from Lakeland College.” After that, they just let the Lakeland students come. And the questions were not softballs, either. One was, for example: “Senator Baker, in 1996 you voted against a bill that would recognize same-sex marriages. Could you please explain this vote?”

These are the students we have. In the writing class that I taught last semester, there was just supposed to be a simple review and strengthening of the students’ writing skills, but every chance they got, they reached for complex, difficult topics to cover, eager to achieve beyond their capabilities.

That’s the biggest reason why the job I have now is the best job I have ever had.