JET Streams – Issue #61 (Winter 2025)

Beyond JET Articles from former JETs

Threads that Connect

How Wearing Kimono Became a Way of Life

The First Thread:
I put a kimono on for the first time in 2012 after seeing one at a fashion show and immediately rushing out to an antique shop to buy one for myself. At first, I thought it would be easy. A kimono was simply a robe that I could slip my arms into and tie shut, right? To my dismay, I quickly learned that one full kimono “set” requires around fifteen different pieces and a lot of practice. What felt light and simple became heavy and unwieldy. But I was determined, if for no other reason than to avoid having to admit to my mother that the hundreds of dollars she lent me for a spontaneous kimono purchase had been wasted. So, I started to learn: First from YouTube, then from a kimono enthusiast in Boston, and eventually at a kimono school in Kumamoto while on the JET Programme.

Learning to Move:
Learning how to put on a kimono is not just about tying an obi or padding your waist into the proper marshmallow shape. It is also about relearning how to walk, how to sit, how to pick something up, and every other action you take throughout the day. I learned how to walk slowly, and in doing so I started to notice the trees and the flowers. I learned how to sit up straight, and suddenly my back did not hurt as much. I learned how to navigate doorknobs, running water from the sink, and the dreaded dirty park bench. Wearing a kimono teaches you to act with intentionality. You must think about everything you do before you do it. I went from rushing through tasks without a second thought to being present and aware. It became a quiet form of mindfulness woven into my day

The Weight of Fabric:
When I started taking kimono lessons in Kumamoto, I quickly learned that a kimono is not just a piece of clothing. Each time you put one on, you are physically wearing Japanese culture. Sometimes your kimono might be more than 100 years old, carrying the history of everyone who wore it before you. I felt that weight most clearly when I wore kimono to Kamoto High School’s graduation ceremony, my bright kimono standing out among the rows of dark uniforms. Students and teachers alike gathered around me afterward, taking photos and reverently touching the fabric. In that moment, I was acutely aware that, to them, I was not just wearing clothing but embodying a part of their cultural history. Sometimes, a kimono can be heavier than it feels. To a beginner, that weight may seem daunting. But with time, it becomes familiar. It reminds you that you are part of something that has been carried forward for a thousand years. It is a reminder that tradition survives because new hands choose to carry it.

Balancing the Traditional and Modern:
Kimono is my normal, everyday clothing, meaning I wear it all the time. Yes, even to work. But as you can imagine, this poses a problem in modern life. I do not always have time to take one small step after another with full intentionality. I learned that while a slow, mindful pace can be wonderful, you must also find a balance between smelling the roses and not getting fired from your job. That balance was tested most dramatically when a fellow JET showed me a poster advertising free kimono lessons for foreigners willing to compete in a kimono dressing contest. After months of intense practice, drilling movements until they became muscle memory, I stood on the national stage and somehow managed to put on a furisode in under 5 minutes. The experience taught me that even the most traditional practices can demand adaptation and efficiency.

I have since learned how to bend the tradition of kimono to fit a modern lifestyle. I figured out how to hike up the hem to allow for longer strides. I found ways to protect my kimono from rain and snow. I learned which shoes complement my kimono while still allowing me to be on my feet all day. Protecting tradition is a necessary part of wearing kimono, but you cannot protect something that is impossible to change. To protect traditions, we must make them flexible. This taught me to be flexible too, so that my kimono and I can continue to thrive in an increasingly fast-paced modern world.

Threads that Connect:
Just as a kimono is woven from many threads, those of us who wear kimono are also woven together. I have made so many dear friends through kimono that I cannot even count them. Anyone with a niche hobby knows what this is like: These hobbies bring people together and form an unbreakable bond among their adherents. Because of kimono, I have had beautiful conversations with little old Japanese ladies on the bus, a joyful smile lighting up their face when I say yes, I did dress myself. I’ve seen the twinkle in someone’s eye as they gasp, having finally found another kimono otaku. Or even just the curious questions from strangers who can’t help but be drawn towards my “unusual” outfits.

Without kimono, perhaps I would just be a normal person living a normal life. I will never know. But because of and through kimono, I have built a web of friendships with people around the world. Kimono links me in time to Heian court nobles writing poetry on scented paper, to my kimono school classmates in Kumamoto, to the vintage kimono shop owner I talked to for 2 hours in Kyoto, and to my client in Boston who cried after putting on her family’s heirloom kimono for the first time. Kimono links me to everyone who has ever put on a kimono and to everyone who ever will. So, if you have never worn a kimono, I encourage you to give it a try. You never know what threads might connect for you too.

About the Author

Ara Mahar

Kumamoto Prefecture ALT

Ara (they/them) was originally born in Upstate New York but moved to Boston to pursue a neuroscience degree. They work at a biomedical imaging facility in a research lab focused on improving MRI image processing, spending their days surrounded by brains in jars and very expensive magnets.
Outside the lab, Ara is a certified kimono instructor with Boston Kimono Academy Wagokoro, a PR and social media manager for Japan Festival Boston, and a chronic founder of community organizations. Ara’s hobbies include drinking fancy tea, collecting shrine and temple stamps, playing video games featuring Sengoku-era warlords, running Heian period Dungeons & Dragons campaigns, battling it out in competitive karuta, and convincing the entire world to start wearing kimono.

• ALT 2016–2018
  Kumamoto Prefecture

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Crossing Back, Moving Forward

How a Year in Gifu Sparked Two Decades of Global Learning

At my desk in Wanouchi, Gifu

In my first week as a JET in rural Gifu, I managed to make one of the most memorable mistakes of my life: I filled my tiny K-car I had inherited from my JET predecessor with diesel instead of gasoline, simply because I couldn’t yet read the kanji on the pump. I had barely arrived in Japan, still navigating inaka life and the unfamiliarity of everything around me, when the car began jerking and sputtering across the gas station parking area before stalling completely. My supervisor, who was my guardian angel throughout my year in Gifu, left work to pick me up and help sort out the mess. It was an early crash course in humility and cultural learning, and a clear sign that I needed to start learning Japanese quickly. Those early days were a whirlwind of small mistakes, generous people, and shared laughter with fellow new ALTs, some of whom remain close friends nearly twenty years later.

At the Gujo Hachiman Festival my first week in Japan

That blend of missteps, laughter, and early community set the tone for my entire JET experience and, as it turns out, for the next two decades of my professional life.

When I returned to Vancouver and began teaching at Handsworth Secondary School, I quickly discovered how directly my JET experience had prepared me for what would come next. Handsworth had a long-standing exchange partnership with Inage High School in Chiba, the sister-city of the City of North Vancouver. The program connected two communities with decades of shared history and cultural ties. When Handsworth needed a new coordinator for its Japan Exchange Program, stepping forward felt natural. It wasn’t just an administrative opportunity; it felt like a continuation of a story that had begun in Gifu.

My time as a JET had given me the cultural fluency, sensitivity, and adaptability needed to guide students through their first immersive experiences in Japan. More importantly, it had instilled in me a deep belief in the transformative power of international exchange. I had lived firsthand what it meant to be welcomed into a new community, to navigate language barriers, and to grow from cultural immersion. Now, I had the chance to help students experience something equally profound.

For the next decade, the Handsworth–Inage exchange became a defining part of my early teaching career. Each year, I traveled with groups of students from North Vancouver across Japan—visiting classrooms, participating in school events, meeting host families, and exploring the cultural and historical landmarks that make Japan so unique. In return, Japanese students visited North Vancouver, and our community welcomed them into local families. I witnessed students on both sides form friendships that endured well beyond the trips themselves, and I saw how those exchanges expanded their sense of self, culture, and possibility. These were not simply annual excursions; they were relationships that stretched across years and across oceans.

With a group of Inage students as part of the Handsworth-Inage Exchange

Being welcomed to Inage school as part of the Handsworth delegation one year

My work in international education expanded further when I spent almost 15 years as a lead instructor and curriculum developer with MEI Academy. Through MEI, I guided student study-abroad programs around the world, from New York to Florence, Sydney, the Swiss Alps, Beijing, Munich and beyond. While these destinations were far from Japan, everything I brought to the role—from my approach to cultural learning to the way I supported students through unfamiliar environments—was shaped by what I had learned as a JET. My experience as a JET had widened my worldview, and that worldview, in turn, helped me guide students as they built their own.

Teaching MEI Students in Tiananmen Square, Beijing

Teaching MEI Students in the Swiss Alps

　

Today, I am a Principal in the North Vancouver School District, and international education remains deeply embedded in my work. Our district welcomes hundreds of international students each year, and more than ten percent of the students at my current school come from abroad; a daily reminder of how global learning enriches our classrooms. While I no longer coordinate exchange programs directly, I support and help facilitate the many partnerships and visits that continue to define our district’s relationship with Japan. Over the last year, our community has hosted students from Yokohama Hayato High School, welcomed the mayor of Chiba and his delegation during an official sister-city visit, and received students from Chiba Kita and Chiba Isobe High Schools for a week of homestay and cultural learning within the wider North Vancouver community. 

In Kyoto as lead Coordinator of the Handsworth Japan Exchange

These experiences reaffirm for me that international exchanges are not merely school events; they are living partnerships built through decades of collaboration between students, teachers, families, and municipal leaders. They enrich our schools, strengthen our cultural understanding, and keep the connection between North Vancouver and Japan vibrant and meaningful.

Looking back, I often think about how that year in Gifu marked a turning point for me, and how crossing back to Japan and traveling abroad as often as I have has helped me keep moving forward in the work I continue today. JET gave me more than a teaching placement; it shaped my worldview. It taught me to be adaptable, humble, curious, and community minded. It revealed the power of cross-cultural connection and inspired a lifelong commitment to fostering global citizenship in the students I work with.

Even now, when I see Japanese students visiting our schools or Canadian students departing for their first exchange abroad, I am reminded of the same excitement and possibility I felt as a young ALT. And I know that none of my work - whether in classrooms, abroad with MEI, or as a school leader - would have unfolded the way it did without the JET Programme.

A single mistake at a gas station in rural Gifu may have been my first memorable moment in Japan, but the experience that followed shaped the direction of my career. JET was not simply a year abroad; it was the foundation of my professional identity and the spark that ignited twenty years of global education work. Its impact continues to grow and is reflected in the students, schools, and communities who remain connected through the bridges that JET helped build.

About the Author

Mark Barrett

Wanouchi, Gifu Prefecture ALT

Mark Barrett taught English on the JET Programme in 2005–06, an experience that sparked his lifelong connection to Japan and intercultural education. After returning to Canada, he spent many years as a lead instructor with MEI Academy, guiding dozens of high school study-abroad programs around the world. Mark is now a high school principal in North Vancouver, where he helps lead international partnerships and student exchanges with Japan. He is honoured to contribute to the JET Alumni newsletter and remain connected to a community that shaped his early career.

• ALT 2005–2006
  Wanouchi, Gifu Prefecture

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What I Wish I Had Known Before Coming to Japan

Your Authentic Self Belongs Here

There is something I wish I’d known before coming to Japan—something simple, but transformative. Here it is: authenticity, diversity, and courage. These three qualities matter more than anything else when in Japan (in addition to kindness, common sense, a solid work ethic, good teaching skills and a willingness to learn, of course.)

Authenticity begins with knowing who you are. And being good with that. I’ve often held myself back from voicing my thoughts. Waited for the other person to speak first. Then I made my words echo their own. This is very “Japanese.” Get along with people. Don’t rock the boat. But this can go too far. Especially when expressing your culture and identity. Do not mistake different opinions, culture or traditions with controversy. Do not equate it with something bad. Authenticity is not about being loud or bold; it’s about being honest.

Living out loud. I thought I needed to fit in with Japan. I was wrong.

Because diversity—of opinions, experiences, cultures, and identities—isn’t something to hide. It’s what makes us dynamic. Diversity equals good. The opposite of boring. Sharing who we are doesn’t disrupt harmony; it enhances connection. Sharing diversity with Japan is the greatest gift.

And then there is courage—the willingness to share our authentic selves. Courage is trusting ourself deeply enough to do something somebody has never seen before. Don’t be afraid to embarrass yourself or “mess up.”

I learned this slowly. I arrived in Esashi, Hokkaido, as a JET from 2014–2016, believing the best way to thrive was to blend in—to be polite, quiet, and culturally “appropriate.” I spent far too much time trying not to stand out, even though, being white, I obviously did. But I didn’t share my whole self with Japan.  What I wish I’d known then is that my uniqueness—my faith, my background, was the most valuable gift I had to offer.

Everything changed when I began showing up more fully: speaking more honestly, connecting more deeply, and allowing people to see who I was beyond a job title. That was the turning point. That’s when real friendships began.

I also saw this truth reflected in fellow JETs—especially a friend from Los Angeles, half Filipino and half Mexican, who embraced his cultures wholeheartedly. Rather than diluting who he was, he leaned in. Through food, music, language, and even fashion, he shared richness that many of his students and community members had never encountered before. Watching him taught me something essential: the best way to contribute to Japan is not to imitate it, but to　bring the fullness of yourself. Especially if your identity or heritage isn’t what people imagine when they hear the word “American.”

The irony is simple: even if you try to fit in, you’re going to stand out. So you might as well stand out as yourself. Because your authentic self belongs in Japan. Your holistic identity is your best gift.

My American ALT neighbor, who I spoke of. He organized potlucks, encouraging people to make food connected to their ancestors. He introduced our neighborhood to spicy foods. Once, his family sent him a giant box of different hot sauces of varying degrees of spice. He shared them. He brought a wooden tortilla press and made tortillas with everyone. Exposed as many as he could to his Mexican roots. Made Philipino food as well. Talked about his heritage and family lineage. Made it his mission to always full up as his best and real self.

I wish I had done this more. For instance, the Japanese are familiar with Western traditions like Christmas and Halloween. So it is easy to share about them. It fits into something they already know. I missed opportunities to share about my Jewish roots. Show how one lights a menorah for eight nights. Celebrate other holidays such as the Jewish New Year and a celebration we have for trees, and other parts of my identity. Cooked more traditional food I was raised with.

Here’s what I learned: in Japan, as in life, your authentic self is a beautiful thing. Living in Japan isn’t about becoming someone else; it’s about offering who you are. When you do that—when you live from a place of authenticity, diversity, and courage—you create a deeper, more meaningful exchange. And that exchange will stay with you, and with them, long after you leave.

About the Author

Paula Kaufman

Esashi, Hokkaido Prefecture ALT

Paula Kaufman is a writer, painter and teacher located in West Virginia. She was exposed to Japanese culture as a child, when a local Japanese chef taught her to make sushi. Her love for Japan was furthered in college at Brown University, when she took a course on ancient Japanese poetry in translation.
She currently writes a weekly column on socio-political issues and education for her state’s largest newspaper, The Charleston Gazette-Mail. She teaches ESL in a West Virginia college, ESL to public school children and is a published poet.
She previously taught in Palestine as a university professor and was an advocacy director and speech writer for an organization working to free Uyghurs from internment camps.
She is a big nature lover, cyclist and long-distance trail runner. She currently lives in a town of 7,000 (a similar size to that of Esashi) and enjoys the cohesion and comradery that stems from that little mountain town.

• ALT 2014–2016
  Esashi, Hokkaido Prefecture

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A Family’s Multigenerational Journey With JET

2^nd Generation JET

I think all JETs can agree that the Programme changes your life forever. However, in my case, it would not be an overstatement to say that I owe my very existence to the JET Programme. If my mom hadn’t decided to take a huge leap of faith and move from NYC to start a new life in rural Japan, I would have never been born.

Aya's Mother and Father in Tokyo in the 1990s

In her early 20s, after graduating college, my mom first heard about the brand-new JET Programme. She had been to Japan before and couldn’t resist this unique opportunity to return. And with that, almost on a whim, she decided to move halfway across the world to become an ALT in Tochigi Prefecture, unknowingly starting a chain of events that would make my family what it is today.

While my mom was only an ALT for one year, even as a child, it was clear to me how big an impact JET had on her. She would often paint vivid stories of her time in Tochigi; the quick bonds she made with her students, the group of local obaachan who adopted her into their weekly gossiping sessions at the neighborhood izakaya, and the simultaneous loneliness and beauty of the Japanese countryside.

She ended up moving to Tokyo a year later, where she worked in writing and movie translation for several years, including working with the Sundance film festival, and writing a column for Mainichi Shimbun. During this time, she met my Japanese father through mutual friends, got married, and I was born soon thereafter in Kichijoji, Tokyo.

However, faced with the tough decision all international families must eventually make, they decided to raise me in the US closer to my mom’s family. We moved to California when I was 2 years old, where I grew up and spent my entire childhood. However, even if I was California-raised, my Japanese heritage continued to be a central part of my identity, in large part thanks to my parents.

They made sure to bring me to Japan to visit my jiichan and baachan every spring, and these trips became vivid, core memories from my childhood. The intense face-puckering sourness of my baachan’s homemade umeboshi, the delicious feeling of running on the tatami floors in my grandparents’ house, and the beauty of Sakura in full bloom, are all memories as accessible to me as if they happened yesterday.

Aya Wearing a Yukata Made by Her Grandmother

My parents’ also showed up in their small everyday decisions, like when my mom would choose to drive the extra few miles past the generic supermarket to the local Japanese yaoyasan, or they would dress me in my yukata for special occasions, my chest puffing up with pride as I told all my friends how my baachan handmade it special just for me. I really appreciate them putting in extra energy and effort at the time to pass on to me this great gift.

Thanks to this, my Japanese American heritage has ended up becoming a central part of my identity, and a unifying theme I can trace throughout my life. This strong pull kept me returning to Japan in various ways; during my gap year, as a volunteer on tiny organic farms in the Okinawan islands, as a college student, to study abroad and intern in Chiba, as a researcher, to study linguistics throughout Japan, and ultimately, continuing my mom’s legacy as a JET participant.

I believe I would have returned to Japan as an adult, whether through JET or not. However, I strongly believe that deciding to come as a JET, thanks to the encouragement of my mom and Japanese professors, was one of the best decisions of my life.

Despite requesting Tokyo and Kanagawa to be close to my grandparents, to my initial disappointment, I was placed as a CIR in the Hiroshima Prefectural Government’s International Relations Division. However, I soon came to feel that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Aya Introducing Mom to her Coworkers

My work changed week to week, consisting of everything from translating the Governor’s speeches, doing school visits to special needs schools, and interpreting for the international residents’ consultation booth. I was simultaneously thrilled by the work, surprised at the amount of culture shock I initially felt, and exhilarated by all the connections I was making with my local Hiroshima community and fellow JETs. I also felt a deep sense of fulfillment to have finally, as an adult, embarked on my own journey to Japan, just as my mom had decades earlier.

Aya’s Grandmother Dressing Little Sister in Handmade Yukata

Throughout my 4 years in Hiroshima, I frequently thought of my mom when she was on her own JET journey. This shared experience has given me an even deeper connection and mutual understanding with her than I had before. Showing her around Hiroshima, the place that had become my second home, remains one of my favorite memories.

Our family’s story continues to evolve. My little sister, who is now 11 years old (wow!), has begun to develop her own relationship with Japan. It has been so rewarding to see the same wonder in her face that I had as a child, gazing up at the cherry blossoms in full bloom for the first time, having her first taste of kakigori on a humid summer day, and having our baachan carefully dress her in a handmade brightly printed yukata.

However, tracing back, the JET Programme has changed my family’s path not only once, but twice. The first time, when my 20-something year old mother, in an apartment in New York, decided to take a chance on a brand-new programme, and a second time, when I chose to follow her footsteps, and embark on my own journey.

I like to think of how every single one of the 79,000 plus JET alumni have a similar yet entirely unique story and path, that all led us to be a part of this special global community.

Who knows, my little sister might even become a JET one day, creating a 3rd generation legacy! Check back in 15 years and see if she has written an article.

About the Author

Aya Goto-Hirsig

Hiroshima Prefecture CIR

Aya was born in Tokyo, but grew up in Berkeley, California. After double majoring in Japanese and International Relations at the University of Puget Sound, she joined the JET Programme and worked as a CIR at the Hiroshima Prefectural Government for 4 years. Post-JET, she has maintained her connection with the Programme, going on to work as a programme coordinator at the Council of Local Authorities on International Relations (CLAIR), in the Department of JET Programme Management.

• CIR 2019–2023
  Hiroshima Prefecture

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