My Four Weeks of Work and Socialization: A Summer in Global English Camp

by Samuel O’Brien, COOJ RETURNEE

Last year, I wrote a blog post in advance of the 2023 Global English Camp. Then, I was focused mostly on the program's transition back from online to in-person. I had spent the past two years giving up a couple of my summer weekends in order to spend time chatting with Japanese high schoolers, giving them the opportunity to use English to discuss their lives, their dreams, and their questions about the world. Now, instead of a couple of weekends, it's four weeks, and instead of a Zoom breakout room, it takes place in schools and conference rooms all over Japan. Participating in the program as a leader last year was edifying in numerous ways, many of which I wasn't expecting at all going in. More than anything, I learned the simple fact that being in the same room for five days really does have an effect on everyone involved. The transition also further proved to me why I chose to do this program in the first place: the people. I may have been surrounded by historic temples, arcades, cat cafés, museums, restaurants, bars, theaters, and multi-story malls, yet the memories that come back to me with the most force, the ones with the most vibrancy, are those of the people whom I was with, their smiles, their sighs, and their stories.

In lieu of a more traditional essay, one centered on a main idea that is then developed through successive paragraphs of elaboration, I'd like to offer something that comes a bit closer to the feeling I had last year: a deluge of different anecdotes and experiences rushing toward you with no indication of whether or not they're happy or sad, profound or meaningless, enlivening or exhausting.

A year is not long enough to make sense of my memory's wooly tangle, so while this does not cover everything, it touches on the areas that stood out most to me once I started to reflect. As I and others get ready to do it all once more this coming July, it's helpful to see where reality diverged from expectations, so that when it inevitably happens again, rather than cowering in fear from the stranger at the door, it'll be like greeting an old friend and inviting them in for tea.

Living in Japan

"Why did you decide to do this program?" is a very common question from friends, family members, and other program participants. A common and very understandable answer is that the program offers one the chance to travel in Japan for an extended period of time. It's not all expenses paid, but it's admittedly a pretty good deal, made even better by the fact that you only need to know English and have attended university in order to participate. However, I think that one's motivation for participating has an outsized impact on their overall GEC experience, and that the "vacation" drive is particularly damaging because it prioritizes the trip above the actual reason they are there, which is to do the job.

I think that one's motivation for participating has an outsized impact on their overall GEC experience.

I know it's unromantic to say it like that, but it's the truth, and it really shouldn't feel so repulsive. For me, someone with a Linguistics degree who is interested in teaching English as a second or foreign language professionally, this program was attractive as a way of gaining experience doing something that I was passionate about. Of course, I was quite happy that I got to do this job in Japan—a country I hold a deep respect for and have always wanted to visit—but I do think that I'd be just as happy doing this kind of work regardless of the location. I knew that this trip would be a dream come true, but I was well aware of why I was there, which was primarily to work. Plenty of times last summer, I had to ask myself, "Should I act like I am on vacation or like I just live here?" Most of the time, acting as if I just lived there rewarded me more than treating it like a vacation, both experientially and financially. Let's just look at the facts for a moment: As a participant in the Global English Camp, you work from morning to evening five days out of the week (for a total of around 30-35 hours), which leaves you with just two days off (only one if you are teaching in a different location because one of those days must be used for travel!). On top of the hours worked, you will also be spending plenty of time in transit, on trains or buses. All in all, a little more than half of your day will be spent working, and a little less than half of your day will be yours to spend as you see fit, though keep in mind that you will be tired from all that working. So why treat all of your leisure time like a vacation? It's only going to tire you out even more. You won't be able to do everything you planned to do, eat at every restaurant you read about, or see every temple on your list; it's just not possible, and that's okay.

Rather than fret over all the things you may miss out on, it's better to be content with the fact that for a month you are being given the chance to live in a completely different way than you are probably used to. It may be a life that prioritizes work, but that doesn't automatically make it dull or pointless, nor does it preclude you from sightseeing or going out in the evening. It's an opportunity to be employed in Japan. You are provided with a job, a commute, a place to live, and even a community of like-minded peers! You may look like a tourist, but you are not. For the brief duration of your stay in Japan, it's helpful to think of yourself as another working stiff, even if you don your tourist clothes while off the clock.

Doing this shifts your focus to the people around you—the people who actually live in Japan—rather than the places and things you want to see. Participating in this program meant meeting and talking with scores of complete strangers from the position of a foreigner, a role that requires maturity, a respectful attitude, and genuine curiosity. After the first week or so, the feeling of it being a trip becomes less and less prominent as you adapt to your new routine. You're taking the same buses and trains, walking the same streets, and becoming an inhabitant of the city. It's a bit easier if you don't have to move every week, but nonetheless, it's nicer to arrive in a new place and see it as a temporary home rather than just a hotel, even if it is a hotel.

Japan in the Summer

There may be no worse place to suffer from heat stroke than on a cot inside a daycare classroom that has been converted into a dorm for you and five other guys. That was my punishment for walking around Asakusa for a couple of hours in the middle of a summer afternoon, having only drunk an extremely strong cup of iced matcha for hydration. The lesson was very clear and quite easy to absorb: never underestimate how hot Japan gets in the summertime. This is the kind of heat that guarantees sweat-soaked shirts—whether that's from sweat or from dunking yourself in a body of cold water—so being prepared is essential. A fan (electric or acoustic) is necessary, as is some form of hydration, lest you suffer the same fate as me. . .

And I walked a lot more. I averaged around 12,000 steps a day during the month of the program; it's not egregious, but it's consistent. One of the pairs of shoes I brought, some On Clouds I bought off of an old coworker with connections, had fallen apart by the time I was flying home. Many of these walks were humid and felt like challenges, but they were all pleasant in the sense that I was always somewhere that accommodated foot traffic, I never got completely lost, and I was usually around people who were wonderful walking companions. Solo walks were also extremely helpful for maintaining a stable mental state. It didn't matter if it was just 10 minutes or over an hour; spending some time alone allowed me to recharge my social battery and center myself during a very erratic time. In such a new place, just walking around the city yields a bevy of hidden temples, interesting shops, and fashionable strangers. It was so engrossing that I often forgot to hydrate or reapply my sunscreen, hence my heat stroke.

“I'll say it over and over again: the best parts of Come On Out Japan's Global English Camp will forever be the people.”

The Students

There would be no Global English Camp at all without the students! They can be as old as rising college freshmen or as young as junior high students. Regardless of their age, though, they're all there for the same reason: to speak English. Nearly every student, as a result of their education, is a hard worker, but, for the same reasons, nearly every student lacks experience with more participation-based pedagogical methods. So, while the program is primarily about speaking English, it is also about letting students speak for themselves in order to figure out who they are and what they care about. While I never got to spend a week of the in-person program coaching a group of students myself, I did get to spend every week watching as 10 of these groups met and grew closer day after day.

I saw their faces light up as they learned that their coach watched the same anime as them or knew all the lyrics to that one K-Pop song; I saw them laugh as they learned the rules of some kooky American or British game; I saw them in deep contemplation, carefully choosing the words they were going to use to describe the club festival at their school. More than anything, it feels good to give this kind of space to adolescents, who are at an age where questions of identity and purpose become louder and more stress-inducing. Doing the program always makes me think of myself at their age and whether or not I was allowing myself to be as open as I was seeing them be. Often, I wasn't, so I see this as the chance to give the students something I know will help them later in life, regardless of the immediate impact it may have. Discussions of hometowns, hobbies, sports, universities, dreams, myths, foreign countries, global issues, silly jokes, majors, movies, group presentations, games, songs, poems, whiteboard drawings—all of these seem small in the moment, but they always come together to form an experience that is both memorable and motivating for everyone, both the students and the rest of the folks in the following sections.

Admin, Coaches, and Leaders

Never before have so many capable, diverse, and intelligent young adults been concentrated in such a small area, representing universities from all over the world and majors ranging from the hard sciences to the liberal arts! One of the main reasons why I've opted to be a leader rather than a coach these past couple of years has been that I just want to meet more coaches! While doing the program online as a coach, I was always fascinated by the 10 or so other peers in my homeroom, but I was always too busy working to get to know them more. Once I became a leader, my job's focus shifted to be almost exclusively about coaches. I got to have extended conversations with each of my team's members and learn all about their lives, their educational experience, and what they saw as their current life path; I got to watch them work with the kids and see how infectious their own passions were; I got to spend time with them and the members of other teams outside of the classroom and see all the unique ways in which they lived in the world.

I don't think I would have had nearly as good of a time without all of the kind and funny friends I ended up making (shout out Gwen, Krishiv, Hector, Vivienne, Tobias, Kristy, Maeve, Stef, every single Sam, and so many more!!!!). I would say that my coaches inspired me as much as, if not more than, they did their students. The same goes for the leaders and our small but powerful admin team, all of whom were coaches at one point or another, so they knew what it was like. Nothing was more reassuring to me than showing up in the morning to the Shinjuku office building where we were working and seeing all my fellow coaches and leaders eating breakfast and collecting themselves before another day of the program; somehow, for just that moment, I felt like we were all on the same page.

Toshin Staff and High School Faculty

This program would not function at all if not for all the work done by Toshin's staff—which during the program was comprised of mostly college students or young adults—and the myriad faculties of the various schools where the program was hosted. Every week, no matter where it was—Nara, Tokyo, Fukuoka—they did a wonderful job motivating the students to be more open and participatory, supplying important information and materials, and collaborating with the coaches and leaders to deal with problems as they arose. They were always extremely welcoming and willing to help. I am very grateful for the few times I got to speak or spend time with the staff or faculty outside of the context program because it was a different sort of cultural exchange from the students. Those moments were less frequent—a quick lunch break; a brief discussion of Osamu Dazai's work—but each of them meant a lot to me.

On Being a Leader

So, what does it take to be a good "leader" during GEC? I'd say the most important quality is humility, an understanding that the roles have names that imply a hierarchy but that in practice everyone is on the same level. Most of my coaches were around my age, and some were actually older than me, so being a leader was less about making sure they could do their job correctly and more about making sure they had the best possible environment in which to be themselves and do their job. This meant more than merely giving feedback; it was about being someone who they could come to for anything, someone who they knew had their back, someone whose sole concern was the team, not themselves. Just as I relied on them, I knew they were relying on me. The roles had different responsibilities, though neither of them was more important than the other because they were tied together. I found that I developed great relationships with my team members because I kept these things in mind. Shout out to Kyleigh, Isaac, Hailey, Oscar, Garret, Jacky, Ruxi, Dina, Tasha, and Angie!!!! Y'all are seriously some of the best people I've met in my life. It's also important to know just how much time you will be spending with your team. Clasroom time, transit, meals, sleeping—all of this is time spent together, so becoming comfortable around one another should be one of the top priorities for a team.

It's hard enough to build positive working relationships with 8 strangers, but it's even harder when you're a "leader" and they're all "coaches." In my role, I was not doing the actual work of the program, which to me was working directly with the kids and bonding with them over the course of those five days. Instead, I made sure my team members made it to the places where they needed to be—whether that was the school where they were teaching, the train station that would take them to the city in which they'd live for the next week, or that one place where they were led through a simulated earthquake in order to prepare them for a real one—and, once they were there, my job was to observe and use my prior experience in the program to help them through any new difficulties that may arise. I dealt with all of the turbulence outside of the actual program so that the coaches and students could have a smooth ride within it. Sometimes, this meant creating an entirely new schedule in response to an oncoming typhoon (which ended up being much milder than was projected); sometimes, it meant encouraging my team members in those first couple of days, telling them that flower buds never bloom instantly; and other times, it meant just popping down to the convenience store to buy snacks while everyone was working on group presentations.

On Feeling Limited

An issue that almost everyone in the program encountered was its inherent limitations. How much ground can really be covered in five days? How much of that ground can be covered if there is a barrier of reticence that must be overcome? How will that barrier be brought down, and how much time will that take? The third day would begin, and coaches would panic because their students were still, in their view, too nervous. Us leaders would smile and tell them just to wait a little bit longer, that this was the beginning of a larger shift, but they wouldn't believe us. We weren't the ones who had sat there for the past two days feeling like a dentist pulling teeth. But then the fourth day came around, and, lo and behold, the students were opening up, smiling, and participating much more than the day before.

The problem here lies not with the program itself but with our expectations of it. One wants to have made an impact so significant that there is a chance someone could approach them one day and say, "It's because of you that my father was able to follow his dream and bring bottle-cap baseball to the rest of the world. Thank you, and here is one million dollars in unmarked bills." But this is rare, and it is not what I saw as the goal of the program. To use the evergreen metaphors of cars and travel, it is less about seeing if you can get the car to start driving toward a specific destination and more about inspecting the car itself, looking at how it was made and what kind of lifestyle suits it

and eventually deciding on a direction for that car to go whenever that engine may be started. I suppose the coach is a car as well in this metaphor, which is fantastic because, even though they've gone a bit farther down their own road, they now get to pause for a spell and consider where they've come from and where they could go. These 5 days are about giving the students time and space for this kind of in(tro)spection, which has no set pace.

In Conclusion

The fifth day was always the last day of the program, but it was also another beginning, a place to mark your progress before setting off again. Naturally, everyone was sad to say goodbye after a week of fun, but there was also a certain joy in having achieved something together and being able to say goodbye on the other side. That's also how I saw this experience as a whole: it was a unique and challenging world, full of both comforting and distressing things, but it taught me lessons about myself that would help me move forward in whichever direction I chose. I'm excited to participate again this year—my last year—and have another chance to do that for myself and others.