I’m not sure how many miles I have biked around Japan over the past three years but I’d venture to say it’s several thousand.
I mean, I use my single-speed Tokyo Bike every day – going the short distance to and from school, picking up super-cheap sushi in Shibuya, biking to baseball games in all corners of the city, and occasionally dashing off to far-flung places like Yokohama, Kamakura or Rocco’s New York Style Pizza.
This bike has been my single greatest purchase since being in Japan, as it has afforded me the ability to explore. I ride and hear banging drums or cheering crowds and we change course to find the fun. Even with me always running late and having to fly as fast as possible all the time, I have seen so much because of that bike.
Life at 10 miles-per-hour has been an incredibly enjoyable way to experience Tokyo, and I will truly miss it.
Which is my roundabout way of saying that I’m leaving Japan … for now.
My contract as the associate dean for Temple University’s Japan Campus expires at the end of July and I’ve decided not to renew. It’s been an absolutely amazing experience but it’s time for something new.
The thing is, I didn’t really move here for the job. I never aspired to be an associate dean. Before I applied, I reached out to a friend to find out what exactly an associate dean does, and I met with a colleague to determine whether I qualified. I had no idea about either.
I applied to the job because I wanted to be in Japan, close to my family.
I’ve traveled to Sasebo, my ancestral home, all my life. When I was younger, my mother and I would visit every year for a month or so. As I got older, I visited much less frequently and for shorter visits.
Along the way, everyone grew up. With each visit, I’d find new cousins and new pets, and new furniture in the 500 year-old family home. Life in Sasebo constantly progressed without me, naturally.
My grandmother passed away in the early 2000s, as did one of my beloved cousins, Midori. During the summer of 2017, my uncle Noriyuki passed away and that just crushed me. He was a role model – an old school guy who had a defined set of principles, but he also had a great sense of humor. He had expectations for me (and others) and I always tried to live up to them.
I began to have great regret about not spending time with the people I love.
I had long talked about moving to Japan but never found the right opportunity. Two months after attending a memorial service for my uncle, I received the job posting for the associate dean position.
Ten days after arriving in Japan, I test rode the bike I wanted. It was way too small (see above), so they had to build a model my size. A few days after bicycle shopping, I flew to Kyushu to see my family. A week later, I joined a baseball team, the Tokyo Eagles.
Things fell into place that quickly.
The job, however, was surreal – Temple T logos everywhere but a completely different mindset. Everyone calls the place TUJ, not Temple, so it’s almost like it’s a completely different university. There were very few people who had actually been to the Philly campus, and many people bristled at the mention of the main campus (there’s no easier way to get a TUJ person’s back up than by saying, “On the main campus, they …”).
As a longtime main campus person, the disconnect was disorienting.
Before my first semester at TUJ began though, I met with a few students interested in media stuff. That made things feel normal. I went to a wrestling match with a few other students. And after work and on weekends, I began biking everywhere.
On my early adventures, I got lost on every excursion. Google Maps only just recently started giving bicycle directions in Tokyo, so I was previously using the walking routes. That had me biking through narrow neighborhood streets and running into steps every now and then.
Every time I got lost, however, was a new adventure. I’d see new things and find random stuff – a temple, park, stores, monuments, people, incredible views. etc.
Because of that bike, I know Tokyo in ways that I never could if I only rode the trains.
Here’s the thing: I like getting lost.
I like the constant exploration. I like finding new things, making new friends, talking to strangers, eating unusual stuff and otherwise living life to the fullest. Life is short and I want to enjoy every minute of it.
Someone once told me that work isn’t supposed to be fun. “That’s why they call it work,” the person said.
Yah, I’m not having that.
I have tried to approach my job at TUJ – which is insanely complex – with a sense of joy. Education doesn’t have to be fun but if it’s treated like, well, work, that message runs deep. It impacts students and their learning, and that’s a problem. Students need to feel engaged with the material. They shouldn’t be doing rote memorization in order to pass tests, and then forget everything to make space for the next test material.
Education needs to be an experience, something you get involved in, something you absorb. It should be something you get lost in, traveling down new pathways that you discover because you were made curious by a word or a phrase or an image.
Education is a personal journey, and that is not always a linear path.
I have harped on that message for the past three years and I think it has made a difference, maybe. I don’t know.
It’s hard to put 100 percent into everything you do, though. It’s hard to be that flexible all the time, to be that curious. It requires putting yourself out there, being vulnerable. And shoot, sometimes it’s just not worth putting in that much effort, especially when you aren’t getting the same in return.
But that’s the way I go through life. I am giving everything I got to everything in front of me, because I want to experience it all and absorb as much as possible.
I have one speed and it is turbo.
It is not an easy way to go through life.
I mean, I love hard. I am passionate, emotional, sentimental. I make connections and then it is hard to leave – everywhere, like parties, classes, AirBnBs, cities, countries. I don’t want things to end!
Operating at such a high single-speed comes at a price. Every deep connection ultimately has a deep sense of loss, and I have experienced a lot in recent years – my grandfather, Tiger, Mookie and Lucy.
And now Japan.
I have avoided telling people I was leaving. Many people probably still do not know. I only told my cousins a few days ago and I’m outta here in a few weeks. My baseball teammates kept talking about games next month and I said nothing, even though I knew I would not be here. It’s just too hard to discuss.
When I told the faculty a few weeks ago, I broke down. It’s on video. Me, a grown-ass man losing it. Nuts.
I now have to pack up the life Michelle and I built here in Tokyo, while trying to enjoy my remaining time. It’s melancholy mixed with excitement, and a world of anxiety.
I’m giving away everything but my bicycle. I’m keeping that, sending it to Sasebo so that it will be there for my return.
The beautiful thing about being a person who goes 100 percent into everything is that we already have life lined up for us back in Philly. New house. Sabbatical for the next academic year. Baby Kenzo on the way soon. So many friends to reconnect with. Doctoral dissertation to complete. Going back to teaching in a year, and maybe some other new work duties.
At the same time, we’re also thinking about the next chapter. There is a big world out there that needs exploration, whole new places to get lost in.
I have no idea what happens next. But we will approach everything with a lust for life, and I can’t wait.
G.W. Miller III 