March 29, 2010: the Oregonian

Students adrift: Japanese phenomenon offers insights on inertia

Why do some students seem to simply not care? I am not necessarily referring to those that are disrespectful or defiant. As frustrating as such students can be, in many ways, their behaviors are often explicable.

Rather, I am more puzzled by the larger number of students who are often polite, but who otherwise exhibit not much more than a nonchalant attitude toward their grades and to the learning process in general. With little sense of initiative or concern about their future, these youngsters represent a cross section of the student population that is unable to meet basic academic standards, year after year.

Public debate on this matter often coalesces in one form or another around the idea of laziness -- referring either to the students or to their teachers. Such interpretations seem superficial and inadequate.

Recently, however, I have started reading about a phenomenon occurring in contemporary Japanese society that is so startling as to be almost unbelievable, but which has opened my eyes to the possibility of a more layered explanation for the indifference we see among children in our schools.

In "Shutting Out the Sun," author Michael Zielenziger writes about the disturbing social trend in Japan called hikikomori, which literally means "pulling away." Young people (mostly males) ranging from preteen kids to adults in their 20s and beyond are not only dropping out of school, they are literally dropping out of society by shutting themselves up in their bedrooms, for months and years at a time. The interactions between such children and their helpless parents (mostly mothers) are reduced to wordless exchanges of food trays, left at the entrance to their rooms.

In a culture so averse to shame, it is impossible to accurately measure the scope of the problem, but Zielenziger describes how in community after community where brave individuals have organized informal support seminars and gatherings, rooms have overflowed with desperate family members. He cites one survey that produces a conservative estimate of more than 400,000 Japanese families who suffer from the syndrome.

It is worth noting that the characteristics of hikikomori are not exactly the same as those of depression, autism or agoraphobia. Instead, in deeply personal conversations with Zielenziger, scores of hikikomori patients and therapists reveal three common threads that underscore the deeply societal nature of the condition.

First, intense bullying at the hands of school classmates frequently lies at the core of hikikomori. Second, in the face of such ostracism at school, hikikomori children receive little support from teachers or parents who are culturally inclined to let group dynamics determine the natural order. And third, hikikomori adolescents are often children of parents who are incapable of providing a nurturing home environment because they themselves are unable to cope with the oppressive realities of their adult lives.

Though this phenomenon is undeniably extreme and uniquely Japanese, there are universal insights we can take from it that might help us to better understand conditions we see in our own schools. If you imagine a context (in Japan, the United States or anywhere) in which a student feels inferior to his peers, receives no compassion from teachers and parents, and observes more despair than hope when he returns home, at least the decision to withdraw in some form begins to make some sense.

In such a scenario, there is no curriculum, teaching methodology, choice of school or material comfort that is likely to bring about academic success. Students who struggle, or worse, who have given up, have more basic needs. Teachers need to seek out simple connections with students that communicate compassion. Mothers and fathers need to continually assure children in words and actions that they are their first priority in life. And all of us need to teach and model behavior that is respectful of individual differences, regardless of the setting.

In that vein, we also need to find creative ways to overcome the natural barriers that arise between adults and children. As in the adage, "familiarity breeds contempt," sometimes those who see a troubled child the most cannot be expected to be the ones to reset her educational trajectory. That's why support from relatives is important in a family environment. It's also why teachers of electives and enrichment courses, and club advisers are so often the first to make that crucial connection that turns a troubled student around.

The most important point I've taken from my understanding of hikikomori is that we should give our children more credit and try to see the world through their eyes. As adults, we constantly make choices about how to spend our time by comparing costs and benefits. We ask ourselves, often at a subconscious level, "Is it worth it?" I don't believe it is too far-fetched to presume that similar processes occur in the minds of kids when it comes to school. Though it may not be true in all cases, perhaps there is more to perceive in underachieving students than indifference and laziness.