Tense, nervous headache ... exams are upon us
Reach for your medication – it’s silly season again. Entrance exams are around the corner, and entrance exams are big news, big business, and big bother.
Last year, the news was all about burgeoning sales of Kit-Kats. By eating these evil, waist-expanding chocolate bars, good luck was sure to come your way. Why? Because in local parlance the beloved two-fingered bar is rendered “kitto katsu”. And in Japanese, this means something akin to “You are sure to win”.
Digression warning: All foreigners have their own favourite stories of Japanese pronunciation of English. Mine is the story of the man in an English class who revealed he'd had "cockrash" at the weekend. The English teacher, astounded, asked him to repeat himself. He insisted he'd had "cockrash". The teacher then advised him that in North America it was better to use the term "jock itch", and, turning to the class, asked them all to repeat after her - "jock itch". She was met with a large chorus of very satisfying "jock itch". Only later did she realise that the student had been in a car crash.
This year's big news is about the introduction of an English listening element to the university entrance exam. This morning’s NHK news featured a special section all about this and we were treated to some interesting pronunciation. The presenters "did their best" to show how it should be done by both greeting us, and signing off, in English. The words were fine, but the sounds were not.
I have a feeling this was deliberate. I’d wager that the hosts’ English is pretty close to top notch. To work for NHK, you must have had to score well in entrance exams, as well as be pretty bright. Why the faux-awkward pronunciation? Who knows? Harmony? Not wanting to put off too many viewers? Another trite reason?
The NHK show introduced a new electronic gadget to help students negotiate their new hurdle – the need to actually understand spoken English. Some sort of glorified tape recorder I think. No price was mentioned, but the new entrance exam was described as a great business opportunity. And boy is business booming when it comes to entrance exams.
Take cram schools as an example. They run on “entrance examination” fuel. There are reportedly fifty thousand or so cram schools in the country and it is a ten trillion yen business. Ten trillion yen! The mind boggles.
Here's another. Rumour has it that some popular Japanese universities make as much as thirty-five million dollars from their entrance exams. Not yen, not lira, but thirty-five million bucks.
So exams are big news and big business, and for the students and their parents they are obviously big bother.
But spare a thought for those that make the exams. They are sworn to secrecy, are reduced to speaking in hushed tones, and creep around surreptitiously in small groups with collars raised. They glance nervously over their shoulders which sag with their heavy burden. These poor creatures have spent a large amount of the year in clandestine meetings dotting i's and crossing t's. They then change their minds, deciding to cross the i's and dot the t's. Next they argue over whether the changes made in the last meeting should be reversed. This continues ad nauseam.
Why is the burden so great for these modern day heroes?
Well, precisely because the entrance exams are big news, big business and big bother.
The single biggest crime that can be committed at this time of year is to dot your t's when it should have been your i's. If mistakes are found in entrance exam questions then the world knows about it. There is uproar, and the press, the bean-counters and the students' parents want to know why - they want their pound of flesh. The perpetrators of this heinous crime are duly hung and drawn by their employers, before being wheeled out for the ritual quartering by the waiting media.
Spare a thought for whoever is next for the dreaded drop, disembowlment, and chop.
And all in public too!
Last year, the news was all about burgeoning sales of Kit-Kats. By eating these evil, waist-expanding chocolate bars, good luck was sure to come your way. Why? Because in local parlance the beloved two-fingered bar is rendered “kitto katsu”. And in Japanese, this means something akin to “You are sure to win”.
Digression warning: All foreigners have their own favourite stories of Japanese pronunciation of English. Mine is the story of the man in an English class who revealed he'd had "cockrash" at the weekend. The English teacher, astounded, asked him to repeat himself. He insisted he'd had "cockrash". The teacher then advised him that in North America it was better to use the term "jock itch", and, turning to the class, asked them all to repeat after her - "jock itch". She was met with a large chorus of very satisfying "jock itch". Only later did she realise that the student had been in a car crash.
This year's big news is about the introduction of an English listening element to the university entrance exam. This morning’s NHK news featured a special section all about this and we were treated to some interesting pronunciation. The presenters "did their best" to show how it should be done by both greeting us, and signing off, in English. The words were fine, but the sounds were not.
I have a feeling this was deliberate. I’d wager that the hosts’ English is pretty close to top notch. To work for NHK, you must have had to score well in entrance exams, as well as be pretty bright. Why the faux-awkward pronunciation? Who knows? Harmony? Not wanting to put off too many viewers? Another trite reason?
The NHK show introduced a new electronic gadget to help students negotiate their new hurdle – the need to actually understand spoken English. Some sort of glorified tape recorder I think. No price was mentioned, but the new entrance exam was described as a great business opportunity. And boy is business booming when it comes to entrance exams.
Take cram schools as an example. They run on “entrance examination” fuel. There are reportedly fifty thousand or so cram schools in the country and it is a ten trillion yen business. Ten trillion yen! The mind boggles.
Here's another. Rumour has it that some popular Japanese universities make as much as thirty-five million dollars from their entrance exams. Not yen, not lira, but thirty-five million bucks.
So exams are big news and big business, and for the students and their parents they are obviously big bother.
But spare a thought for those that make the exams. They are sworn to secrecy, are reduced to speaking in hushed tones, and creep around surreptitiously in small groups with collars raised. They glance nervously over their shoulders which sag with their heavy burden. These poor creatures have spent a large amount of the year in clandestine meetings dotting i's and crossing t's. They then change their minds, deciding to cross the i's and dot the t's. Next they argue over whether the changes made in the last meeting should be reversed. This continues ad nauseam.
Why is the burden so great for these modern day heroes?
Well, precisely because the entrance exams are big news, big business and big bother.
The single biggest crime that can be committed at this time of year is to dot your t's when it should have been your i's. If mistakes are found in entrance exam questions then the world knows about it. There is uproar, and the press, the bean-counters and the students' parents want to know why - they want their pound of flesh. The perpetrators of this heinous crime are duly hung and drawn by their employers, before being wheeled out for the ritual quartering by the waiting media.
Spare a thought for whoever is next for the dreaded drop, disembowlment, and chop.
And all in public too!
posted by jh at 18.1.06
2 Comments:
You actually make it all sound a bit exciting, in a 'loose the wolves' kind of way. If you worked up a stage production you might sell tickets.
I didn't hear about the kit kats. My girls seem to restrict themselves to their magical pencils.
Mmmmm ..... a stage production with characters sitting around dotting i's and crossing t's.
A sure fire winner.
Reading a book to my eldest at the moment about a city in which test results determine which seat you sit in during class, your family's standing in society, your living conditions etc - The Wind Singer.
Hoping it won't cause her to rebel too much just yet.
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