Continued from the last post...
After entering the classroom, I divided the class into three teams, each of which received their own respective set of character cards. Although the teams are called 'Robots and Aliens,' 'Humans and Animals,' and 'Mythological Creatures' according to the Eigomon canon, I prefer to think of the groups as Studious Girls Squad (SGS), Le Corps Maussade, and Team Jackass.
To start, I called representatives from each team to select a character card from their collection and prepare to wage epic battle at my desk. The three students rock-paper-scissor-ed and the victor was given the opportunity to choose one question (involving the superlative, e.g. 'Which is the strongest?') according to the most advantageous traits of his character card (while the traits of the other two players' cards are unknown). The card featuring the highest number regarding the category in question (e.g. SPEED or STRENGTH) is the winner, and the holder of that card gets to collect the cards of the other two students. The goal is to end the class with the most total cards as a team.
Anyway, you may have heard interesting commentary about the Japanese decision making process, you know, how it is 'so different from the West,' and all about 'group consensus' and 'being non-confrontational.' Hah. Let's have a look at the teams.
SGS is composed of people from the overwhelmingly female right side of the classroom. I call them studious, but really they are only studious compared to the rest of the class. They are typically pretty good at English and play along with the activities I provide. Their decision making process involves them neatly spreading all thirty-two of their team's cards on their island of gathered desks. All remain seated as they pore over the cards and discuss which card to select and, infinitely more seriously, which of them is going to actually carry it to the front of the room.
Le Corps is made up of students from the center of the room. This group actually has the most talented student of English, but, in this random-ass game, she is of little benefit. Most of these students are pointedly unenthusiastic about anything. However, I detect that they are interested in the apparent complexity of the cards. One of the things I like about this game is that it appears to be worthy of thought and strategy. The students are confronted with a bewildering array of characters and statistics, and it sure looks exciting. Of course, I know what they don't: the game is a complete crapshoot.
My English major friends say this is dramatic irony.
Team Jackass is a real group of winners. Although they refuse to use any English outside of short phrases that they find amusing, they are the ones who make or break this activity. Fortunately, I know the catalyst for success: I give them an opportunity to freely pace around, compete, criticize, and kick the crap out of themselves. They've got a large, noisy insult-comedian guy who appears to call most of the shots, and he's followed by (1) an inattentive, rotund fellow who refuses to understand anything I ever say and (2) a short, obnoxious fellow who has the self-direction of a crash test dummy. There is a voice of reason at the back of the group, but he knows where this train is going. Team Jackass chooses which players and cards to field based on what they expect will result in someone suffering the most verbal and physical abuse possible.
Several rounds of play yield some memorable moments. Le Corps guys rotate players regularly and all of them maintain a poker face. That is, unless they win; then you may hear a low-register 'uuuueeeeeeaaaaayyyy.' SGS girls twirl with joy in victory and twirl with sorrow in defeat.
Crap, I forgot to explain. One cycle of gameplay actually has two stages of excitement: the RPS segment and the question-answers segment. Most of the student reactions occur after the RPS result because, most of the time, if you win the RPS and get your choice of question, you are going to win the round. That being said, there is a lot of pressure and focus on the RPS segment. Speaking of which, these kids are funny about RPS. Certain students (based on past experience, I suppose) are regarded as being strong RPS players, and others, conversely, think of themselves as weak RPS-ers. They bring confidence and anxiety to the table.
One student approached the table. He clenched his fist and furrowed his brow, closing his eyes in concentration. Then he relaxed and looked skyward-- 'yometa,' he said ['I read it (the other players' intentions)]. I laughed out loud, but he could have been being serious, comical, and unnerving to the other players all at the same time. When a student would lose the RPS, he would often look at his hand as if it were to blame.
Most of the teams would say either nothing or a few words of encouragement to the players they sent to the battle table. Not Team Jackass. Rather, it is 'Win, or don't come back.'
They sent up their ragdoll, punching bag short kid. I had some sympathy for him early on, but this dude really is unbelievably annoying. Apparently they had sent him up this time with a particularly valued card, and when he lost, the color ran from his face. The riot that was his team (standing behind him) roared. He winced. In the blink of an eye he was ripped from his position at the table and lynched.
After a series of painful losses and the sacking of half the team, the leader of Team Jackass decided that a restructuring was in order. He asked me something in Japanese that I didn't understand. I could tell that it was a request for permission for something, but I wasn't sure what. I'm the chaos-oriented type, so I said 'yeah, OK, go ahead' just to see what he was talking about.
Apparently the short guy hadn't gotten his shit together yet and was due for another beating. The big comedian judo threw the kid punched him a few times. The annoying kid didn't stop giggling thoughout the ordeal.
How obnoxious.
Signaling further reform, the big guy declared that he was going to be doing all of the RPS from then on. Not that he actually did. By that point his team was openly fighting, and card selection and RPS participation had fallen to whomever wasn't drop kicking or being drop kicked.
I think they have more fun losing than winning.
We played this game several times that week and had a good time. Since then, I have added new dynamics to the game, such as a card wagering system, and have used it in dozens of other classes. It's a nice piece of work-- the vast majority of students are motivated to play. Even the typically 'bad' students can have a good time.
But more interestingly, though, I like this game because it allows me, the ALT, to observe the interaction of personalities in the classroom-- I just run the game. This activity allows the students a large degree of freedom, which is in itself interesting, but it allows it in a way that doesn't cause them to seize up (as Japanese students often do). More human experiments to come...
Finally:
I hope you are wondering why I permitted the students to fight each other. Well, that is what they usually do in the 10 minutes between classes; they play ball or wrestle. And I don't hear a word about it from the teachers. I just chalk it up next to old goats standing on boxes and 3 meter gaps in brand new roads as normal features of Miyako-land.
以上です。
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