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If you are a freshman, chances are, you belong to one of the following four groups. The first group is the “definite” group which consists of those who are definite about pledging for a greek organization (fraternities and sororities with greek letters). You do not know who to pledge for, but you feel that college life is only four years (or five or six depending on how much fun you want to have) and it would not be complete without joining one.

The next group is the “curious” group. Those who belong in this group are curious as to what fraternities and sororities are all about, but aren’t totally hooked on the idea of pledging. I personally believe this to be the largest group, but unfortunately, most that belong here usually wind up deciding not to pledge. This is mostly due to the fact that they were never really sure why they should undergo with the pledging process or the concept of being a part of these organizations.

The next group is the “definitely NOT!” group. If you belong in this group, you do not understand why anyone would want to be in one of these organizations. You do not believe there is such a thing as brotherhood/sisterhood that can be developed in a semester worth of pledging. The idea of pledging is also preposterous. Why would anyone have to go through that abuse to “prove” themselves worthy? Chances are, they are harassed and hazed and you want no part of it. You believe yourself to be social enough to make your own friends and not have to do any of those things to make friends. If you belong to this group, I hope this article bumps you up to the “curious” group.

The last group is the smallest. This group is known as the “already decided” group, meaning they already know which organization to pledge for. This usually occurs when they have a close friend or relative who belongs to the organization and, after hearing so much about it, they began to desire the same experience. If you belong in this group, I hope this article pushes you to the “definite” group.

Why shouldn’t those in the last group pledge for the organization they are already sure about? It is for the simple reason that despite all the similarities between those who are interested and the friend or family member who is already in the organization, everyone is different. They should be not be pledging for any particular organization, but instead, check out each group and see which one offers them what they are looking for.

So how should you begin to choose which organization to pledge for? The best way is to attend rush events. “Rush” are a series of events where you get to meet the members of the various fraternities. It gives you the chance for them to get to know you and for you to get to know them. Even though rush events are catered to get you more interested in pledging for them, you should be skeptical with an open mind. Understand that there is a whole process and as much as you have the power to choose which organization to pledge for, they also have the power to decide whether or not they want you as a pledge.

The best thing to do is to attend a variety of these events, most importantly, their general interest meetings (GIMs). This is where they introduce themselves to you, talk about their organization and tell you what they can offer you. For some people, all these organizations appear to be the same on the outside. However, if you analyze each one, you will be able to see huge differences.

Here are a few things you should look for:

Size of organization. There are large organizations with an extraordinary amount of chapters and members. There are also those who only have a few chapters with a lot less members. Each has its own advantages and disadvantages. Large organizations tend to be well-known. The chance of networking is greater. Smaller organizations have the advantage of being more close-knit. Thus, there is a greater chance that the members get to know each other more intimately.

Type of organization. There are many different kinds to choose from. The major categories are social, academic, professional, cultural and community service. There are others as well. Some are a combination of a few categories.

List of events. It’s a good idea to find out what type of events the organization participates in. Doing community service for example, might be something you are interested in doing.

Length of pledging. Though most will not tell you how long or what pledging consists of, I can tell you that it can take anywhere between 6-14 weeks. However, it is possible to get a good idea of how long the pledging process is by asking some of the members to give you a ballpark figure. Average would be about 8-12 weeks.

Dues and fees. Make sure you know how much dues and fees are before you do anything. You need to be willing to pay, and afford, them. Some organizations also have pledge dues/fees which means you will need to pay in order to pledge. Usually, these dues are to cover your pledging expenses. After you cross (become a member), you will most likely have to pay a membership fee every semester. It is a good idea to know how much it is and what would be the money used for. Dues can range anywhere from $30 to $2000 a semester.

These are just some of the things to look for. Ask questions if you have any. Don’t be shy and be as informed as possible. After rush, there will no chance to ask questions. This may be the organization you pledge for and it’s for life. Once you become a member, it is too late for regrets so find out as much as you can before making a decision.

Artist: Ken Oak
Format: CD
Release Date: February 17, 2005
Label: jd8 Records, LLC

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An Interview with Ken Oak

It’s been about ten years since the last time I went to the Korean Street Festival in Chicago and not much has changed since then. It’s still small, noisy and dirty. All of the booths seem to have been thrown together pretty haphazardly. Aside from the exhibitions that are scattered throughout the weekend there really isn’t a large display of Korean culture; unless you count the various array of food stalls that make up the majority of the booths lining the street.

The yearly festival is located near Chicago’s K-town on Bryn Mawr in between Kedzie and Kimball. The middle portion is where the booths and the Korean wrestling exhibition site are located while stages flank the outside. Small stores and cafes line the street on either side. The larger stage is the traditional stage where the, well, traditional performances are held, which includes Korean drumming exhibitions and even karaoke contests. The smaller stage on the opposite side is the contemporary stage where there are shows and musical performances geared towards younger audiences. This is where Ken Oak performed on Sunday as the final act of the Korean Street Festival.

It was a good night to be out. The heat wave that had enveloped Chicago earlier this summer had more or less dissipated and the evening was cool with a light zephyr occasionally running through the street. Earlier that day, I picked up a friend of mine who had attended Ken’s performance in New York City a couple of weeks prior to the Street Festival. Since I had only heard recordings, she assured me that he sounded much better live and you know what? She was right.

The event organizers had scheduled performances almost back-to-back on Saturday and Sunday for the contemporary stage. As the adolescent fangirls of the hip-hop group, IBU, filed away from the seating area, Korean young adults suddenly appeared to claim the vacant seats. A little before 8:30 p.m., Ken came out on stage and began tuning his cello and guitar. At exactly 8:30, he launched into “Analog Girl” and the performance was underway.

During the one hour solo set, Ken interacted with the audience, alternating between self-deprecating humor and explanations of the origins of his songs. I don’t know what the audience looked like from his vantage point, but from where I was sitting, we seemed pretty dead. Sorry, man. We’re Koreans from the Midwest and thus, we’re pretty inhibited. However, Ken forged on, accompanied by the quiet foot tapping and head bobbing in the audience.

Most of the songs in the set were from his first CD though he played a couple of new ones, one which was actually written just a few days prior to the Festival. Although he laughingly admitted that he may get some of the chords wrong because of its “new-ness,” there was no great hesitation in his playing. Around 9:30 p.m., Ken ended his set with his instrumental piece, “Soma.” Afterwards, Ken stayed around to sign autographs and have his picture taken with a few of his Chicago fans, including me.

Though the stage was small and the audience pretty undemonstrative, the performance was still highly enjoyable. I, for one, am looking forward to seeing him perform again when he swings by Chicago on his campus tour later this year.

A. Kim is the Halfway Senior Editor

AK: How did you get started or interested in writing?

DY: I started writing stories about midway through college. One Saturday, I felt like writing a story on my computer and I liked it, and that was it for me. When I wrote stories, I was trying to figure out my major and I wasn’t interested in my classes.
Growing up, I always told stories. I wasn’t one of those writers who kept diaries or journals, though. I also lied a lot when I was younger, which, in retrospect, is pretty useful as a writer.

AK: What did you end up majoring in?

DY: Government. I also majored in English with a concentration creative writing.

Author: David Yoo
Format: Hardcover, 294 pages
Pub. Date: May 2005
Publisher: Random House Children’s Books

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“Girls For Breakfast” Book Review

AK: And where did you go to school?

DY: For undergrad, I went to Skidmore in upstate New York and I went to the University of Colorado in Boulder for graduate school.

AK: When you wrote Girls for Breakfast, did you have a specific purpose or audience in mind?

DY: In terms of purpose, I don’t write with any kind of mission in mind. That one (Girls for Breakfast), especially, is emotionally very autobiographical. It’s loosely, or tightly, based on the area I grew up in. In terms of mission, if there is one, I would say, that as fiction, I’m trying to give voice to a sorely underrepresented demographic, the below average teenager. For example, in the movies, there’s a lack of below average characters and the same goes for literature and I thought it would be interesting to write about a kid who isn’t excelling. I don’t know, I guess I wanted a lot of different people to relate. I don’t know if I do this, but I was hoping to show some sides of an Asian American teen boy that aren’t shown very often. I try to be as honest as possible. Even though it’s fiction, I want to tray and show everything, warts and all.

AK: You already mentioned that this novel is emotionally autobiographical, but other than that, are you writing from your own experiences?

DY: Not much of it has actually happened. I tried to fill it in with little touches and references to places I’ve grown up in. I guess that makes it autobiographical. I wasn’t this kid growing up. But in his worst and best elements, I guess I show some flashes of myself. I mean, I never taught anybody martial arts.

AK: But I bet you were asked if you knew any.

DY: Yeah.

AK: Are you working on anything new right now?

DY: I’m actually working on the next one. This one deals more with family, which horrifies my mom. This one is more about two siblings. I guess the main character can be described as a choke artist; a kid who is failing to live up to his expectations. I guess what I wanted to do was, my first book was called Girls for Breakfast, and my second book, I would write about anything but girls.

AK: When is this novel’s projected release date?

DY: I think it’ll come out sometime in the spring of 2007. I’ll be finishing a rough draft sometime next week and I’ll be finding out how bad it is from my editor. Most of the main work comes after I turn in the rough draft.

AK: Is there a core audience that you write for? For example, on the book jacket of Girls for Breakfast, it says that this is a young adult/teen novel. Even after I read it, I couldn’t help but think that maybe, teen boys could relate to this novel more than teen girls or even older adults.

DY: Core audience, I don’t consider it just for teen boys. I feel there’s a universal theme for anyone who’s grown up feeling like an outsider. This character just happens to project his feelings of wanting to fit in onto girls.
That’s what drives some people to excel in sports or musically: They want to fit in.

AK: Since this is your first book and you’re a new author, not too many people are familiar with you. So, how would you describe yourself?

DY: Myself. As a writer or generally?

AK: Either, it doesn’t matter.

DY: This is really hard. I don’t know, it’s kind of a kiss of death to label yourself as a comic writer. Some of my favorite writers make me laugh. I want to write something funny but substantive. I don’t know, I like humor.
As a person, formerly but increasingly dedicated to work.

AK: As of now, what do you consider your greatest achievement? And you can’t say your book.

DY: My greatest achievement? Hmm…I know this answer…can I give two?

AK: I guess…

DY: My greatest is, I quit smoking. My second one is that I was a great cat owner. I think I may have achieved something better than that, though. There has to be something else…greatest achievement…I don’t have a real great achievement.

AK: How about for the future? What would you like to achieve, or what goals do you have?

DY: Is there some other goal? Well, in terms of goals I set for myself, I guess they’re related to writing. I want to keep writing, I want to write what I want to write and keep improving. And also, I want to learn how to play drums. Oh yeah, I have one other goal in life, to become a professional pool player. I’m painting a portrait of a bum who wrote a book.

AK: Who are your favorite authors?

DY: I should probably say my favorite books, because I could say, Laughter in the Dark by Nabokov instead of just Nabokov when I’ve only read the one book and not any of the others. So, books I read every year: Laughter in the Dark by Nabokov; Mildred Pierce by James M. Cain; The Last Picture Show by Larry McMurty; and a teacher of mine, Lucia Berlin, she was the best short story writer I ever read.
I just realized, I think every summer, I read Rosemary’s Baby. I don’t know why.

AK: How about humor writers?

DY: Salinger is funny because I like Catcher in the Rye. I like Dave Sedaris and all those famous guys. Hmm….I need to be looking at my bookshelf.
You know what I found funny recently? There’s this one show that was on for one season, Freaks and Geeks. That’s really funny.

AK: Have you heard of Arrested Development?

DY: Yeah! That show’s really funny. Election was also very funny.

AK: It was slyly funny.

DY: Yeah, slyly funny, that’s a good way to put it. Portnoy’s Complaint by Philip Roth is also pretty good.

AK: Would you ever release a collection of short stories, or do you see yourself primarily as a novelist?

DY: I started out writing short stories. When I was in college, I wrote stories. IN graduate school, I started writing a novel, but I kept working on short stories. Even now, I have a hard drive full of short stories. I also write screenplays and I’ve written a lot of non-fiction essays. And by a lot, I mean three.

AK: At the end of your life, how would you like to be remembered?

DY: At the end of my life, how would I like to be remembered? Well, I guess I would like to be remembered as a writer, preferably a good one. I’d also like to be remembered as someone who didn’t waste his life.

A. Kim is the Halfway Senior Editor

When I was growing up, I didn’t have any Asian-American celebrities to look up to, unless I was to idolize the occasional Asian extra in a movie or quintessential “Asian man with accent” in a minor role. Caucasians in America have numerous people to admire, as do African-Americans. To Hollywood: We don’t all walk around with hats made of bamboo. Some of us do, but that doesn’t mean we want to idolize bamboo.

John Cho (actor, White Castle), Margaret Cho (comedian), Michelle Kwan (gold medal winning figure skater), Yo-Yo-Ma (internationally renowned cellist), Jerry Yang (CEO, Yahoo), Rick Yune (actor, Die Another Day), Amy Tan (author, The Joy Luck Club), Tia Carrere (actress, model), and Lucy Liu (actress, Kill Bill 1) are prominent Asian-Americans in the US spotlight. Did you know that Keanu Reeves is part Hawaiian, part-Chinese, part-English? Michelle Branch is part French/Dutch/Indonesian. Even Rob Schneider is half-Filipino. Seem like a lot? Well, it is, but to list the number of mainstream celebrities within other ethnicities would be ridiculous. Does this seem like whining? It is, but deservingly so. Asians have been under-represented for so long in the US media and mainstream that by listing the above, twelve suddenly seems like a lot.

Here’s the problem: to the major media outlets there aren’t, apparently, enough Asian’s or Asian-American’s spending enough money to warrant producing more feature films with an Asian actor or actress in a leading role. However, as of August, Hero, prominently featuring an Asian cast, when released in the US, grossed $53,710,019, with a production budget of $31 million. Rush Hour 1, starring Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker (production $33 million) grossed $244,386,864 internationally, and Rush Hour 2 (production $90 million) grossed $347,325,802 internationally. I’m not just talking about Asian-American’s in Hollywood films; it’s about the upper-handedness of Hollywood. If you listen closely you can hear fat Caucasian producers gasp in horror at the thought of backing a predominantly Asian motion picture. I’m talking to you fat balding guy. Oh, that was stereotyping. Not all Hollywood producers are in their fifties, overweight and balding right? Want me to stop stereotyping you? Me too.

According to an August 18, 2005 article from the Associated Press, “The majority of residents in Texas, California, New Mexico, Hawaii and Washington, D.C., are some ethnicity other than non-Hispanic whites, according to Census Bureau population estimates released last week. Five other states, including New York and Georgia, could make that shift by 2010.” When you look at the numbers, in the short term, catering to the largest, most proven demographic is easiest, but in doing so they will easily get into a rut. Hollywood studios are crying because their terrible movies aren’t making enough money. Why whine when you use the same damn formula over and over again? Produce something original!

Let’s, however put this into perspective: while Asians are becoming more prominent within US borders, they are not by any means the driving force behind the GDP. They have a large contributing role, but are still a “minority.” As a result, the mainstream media might deem (and rightfully so) this portion of their demographic less possible to bring in the big money. I’ll explain. It’s about the bottom line, right? If Asians aren’t producing the dollar figure hoped for, why market to them?

In a movie theatre, the theatre company itself makes most of its profits from concessions. The company only gets a small portion of the actual cost of a ticket. Asians, just like other ethnicities, go in, buy the ticket, and then in turn purchase popcorn that costs five-hundred dollars (if you want a soda, sell your car and walk to the theatre.)

Is Hollywood afraid of the Asian demographic? Are they unwilling to allow Asians in because, perhaps, they’ll bring in more money? Conversely: Is there enough solid Asian talent in the vast pool of wannabe actors and actresses? Let’s take a quick glace at the current US box office as of mid-August, 2005.

Based upon this information, if the independent film companies are included, the numbers add up remarkably well with the US Census report. However, look at the number when it’s necessary to utilize a more independent film company or branch. Those numbers do not add up; why would the big Hollywood film companies offer up more than 275% less than the US Asian population?

I have a feeling it will take a very strong Asian-American actor or actress to break into the Hollywood ethnicity vault. Emphasis on American though. That’s not meant to be derogatory; it’s simply how much of the US operates. While America is a country based on opportunity and dreams, it’s also a country which, in the beginning separated from England, and most likely does not want to be invaded anytime in the near future, be it economically or culturally.

Here’s a revelation of sorts for you, Hollywood: If you stop churning out absolute rubbish movies that require an IQ of 2.5, and stop dumbing-down America, then perhaps you might find that the numbers can and will work to your favour. The American film industry is pumping out movie after movie about a monkey who can’t find his way with a quirky Lemur sidekick. This, in itself wouldn’t be terrible but, for the love of film, push your limits. Create something new and innovative. Everyone needs heroes, idols, and impossible feats to live up to, even Asians. Mr. Hollywood, tear down this wall. And while you’re at it, make popcorn free.

Tyler is the Halfway Editor-in-Chief

* Numbers are based upon a sample conducted in mid-August, from the respective company’s website listings.

Author: David Yoo
Format: Hardcover, 294 pages
Pub. Date: May 2005
Publisher: Random House Children’s Books

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An Interview with David Yoo

Nick Park is your average teenaged boy. He plays sports, goes to school and is obsessed with girls. David Yoo’s debut, Girls for Breakfast, tells the life of a Korean-American boy stuck in the white suburban hell of Connecticut. At first reading, Nick appears to be nothing more than a colossal pervert with a preternatural precocity for female breasts. Truth to tell, I almost gave up on this book thinking that there was no way I could empathize with the character. It’s been a long time since I’ve been a teenager and the male obsession with breasts is incomprehensible. However, for whatever reason, I persevered and to my surprise, there was a hidden depth to Nick’s character. This novel is not so much about a boy’s fascination with sex as it is about coming to terms with your identity and your place in this world.

Growing up in the suburbs is a difficult experience for anybody, let alone a lone yellow face in the sea of white. Nick’s unique dilemma is that, despite his best efforts, he can never fully belong in the popular crowd that he desperately wants to be in while, at the same time, the other Korean American kids at church reject him for being too “white.” However, the sting of rejection is lessened as Nick finds himself identifying more with his friends from school, so much so that even he views the Korean Americans as foreign. As he realizes, with horror, that he is not white, he tries to hide his Korean features while congratulating himself for not being as ugly as the others.

Nick eventually comes to the realization that his obsession with white girls stems from an unconscious desire to fit in or to belong with the crowd. In his mind, if he had a white girlfriend, then he could be accepted by the rest of the popular group. Most of this novel is centered on Nick’s desperate, and often humorous, attempts to find the perfect girlfriend, or at least a girl who is attracted to him. Ironically, the harder he tries to fit in, the less he is accepted. After repeated humiliation, however, he later discovers that his attitude towards dating is the result of a lifetime of self-loathing and self-hate. It’s only when he learns to accept his identity and place in the world that the pieces finally fall into place. Nick Park, the insecure jester, is replaced by Nick Park, the confident young man.

The negatives: It’s great that this is a book for young adults, however, only a specific subset of teens will appreciate it and possibly empathize with the protagonist: boys. Also, some Asian American readers who do not have Nick’s problems with identity may find themselves offended by the negative portrayal they receive in the book. The Asians are characterized, through Nick’s eyes, as ugly and losers. The only time one is described as being even remotely attractive is when one of Nick’s friends is trying to convince him to go after a fellow Asian rather than a white girl. Even when Nick has his epiphany, there is nothing that repairs the image of Asian Americans, except Nick confesses that he becomes turned on by a glimpse of a Korean girl’s breasts, which is a perverse compliment.

The positives: This novel addresses the covert (and sometimes overt) racism Asian Americans face in the white suburbs. In a way, it offers a humorous explanation for why some kids end up being “whitewashed” while others remain more balanced biculturally. Since this is a novel geared towards young adults, it may strike a chord with teen readers who are also searching for their identity, especially if they happen to be, like Nick, the one Asian American in the white suburbs.

Verdict: Even though I felt I couldn’t identify or empathize with Nick, I found myself unable to stop reading until the very end. This is a novel for anyone who’s struggled to find his/her place in the world.

A. Kim is the Halfway Senior Editor

I went to my mentor in undergrad this summer to ask her to write me a recommendation letter. I was applying to my undergraduate course’s graduate studies program. The minute she found out I was going to resign from work to study, she said “What? You found out those Philistines don’t read Austen so you’re going back to school?” It was meant as a joke, of course, but it made me stop and think. Was I one of those people who couldn’t handle the real world and, therefore, needed to hide out in the academe, the bubble of “academic freedom” that is UP (University of the Philippines) in particular? Why did the words, “further studies,” sound dirty all of a sudden?

The assumption is if you go to grad school, especially with a program as fancy-sounding (useless) as Anglo-American Literature, you must want to teach. In my case, that couldn’t be further from the truth. When I answer the question, “You want to teach?” with a negative, the already creased foreheads of the people asking the question develops even deeper ridges and with a totally confused look, they follow up with, “So what do you plan to do (with a Masters in Anglo-American Literature)?”

This always leaves me stumped. Not because I don’t have an answer, but because half of me doesn’t know where to begin the explanation (and suspecting that the explanation will satisfy no one, including–and probably most of all–me), while the other half is surprised that there’s a need to explain at all. People do a lot of pointless things in their lives; can’t going to grad school be one of them? Why the utilitarianism? Will anyone ever accept an answer like, “I have this blank space on my wall and I think a framed MA certificate in AAL is just the thing it needs”? Whatever happened to knowledge for knowledge’s sake?

Then there are the people who have attacked me with statements like, “Well, I can’t afford it. I don’t have parents willing to pay for my schooling like you do,” as if my decision to go back to school is a judgment upon them. My father and I made a deal long ago, before I realized what an extremely good deal I was making, that he would support my studies for as long as I wanted to study. He must have either sensed that I will have absolutely no interest in being a member of the 9-5 workforce, or had misguided romantic visions of me as an erudite. Or both. But whatever his reasons were for striking that deal with me, the fact is, the deal exists. And while I’m young with the notion that I want to go to school lodged in my head, I’m going to milk that deal for everything it’s worth. I’d be crazy not to.

A masters in Literature isn’t even my main goal. It’s just a stepping stone to a masters degree in media or graphic arts (something “artsy-fartsy and useless”), and possibly film school abroad. My choices may doom my chance of ever being a certified yuppy, but what the hell. I only live once, may as well occupy myself doing things I like. If there was anything I learned about my stint as an office worker, it’s that I’m not cut out to be a pencil pusher. Give me anything but a desk job, or give me death. So maybe my aspirations to yuppiehood were doomed from the start and my going to grad school was just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

I don’t plan on going to school forever. I’m no “professional student” wannabe. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.) As early as this semester I’ve already decided that while class discussions are a joy, schoolwork sucks. The point (if there’s any need for a point at all) is experiencing new things, exploring possibilities, maximizing potential–knowledge for knowledge’s sake, as trite as that sounds. Who cares what I do with it after? I’m sure I’ll figure out how all my learning will play a part in my life eventually. My decisions now may appear naive and just a little bit escapist to me someday, but as long as I’m spending my time getting an education, I strongly doubt I’ll ever consider it as a complete waste of time.

For now, seize the day and hit the books!

Mela is a Halfway Staff Writer

Almost sixty-one years ago, the Zero, a Japanese fighter plane, strapped with a bomb with its sole intent of mass destruction, flew straight into the USS St. Lo, causing fire and other explosions. Though this may or may not have been the first kamikaze attack (there were previous incidents of planes flying into ships, but possibly accidental), this was the first to sink a ship and intentionally.

Immediately following the events of September 11th, there were numerous comparisons between the acts of the ‘tokkō’ (special attack) pilots who crashed their planes into their enemy and the terrorists who crashed their hijacked planes into their enemy. Their acts and their intentions to kill and destroy were similar; however those are the only parallels between the Japanese tokkō pilots and the terrorists. These similarities are not important. What are important are the differences. The difference of attitude, mentality, and reasons behind their motive should serve as the primary point that distinguishes the horrific acts of the terrorists and the terrifying, but heroic acts of the tokkō pilots.

Many believe that the Japanese soldiers who fought in World War II courageously fought and died for their emperor and their country (actually, the emperor and the country are one and the same in Japanese ideology since the post-Meiji era). This idea was carried over and used as a reason as to why the Japanese were willing to sacrifice their life, by piloting their planes or submarines into their enemy. However the real reason behind this courage had nothing to do with the emperor. In fact, according to many survivors of the tokubetsu kōgeki-tai (Special Attack Unit) or tokkō-tai for short, they volunteered because they wanted to end the war. They wanted to protect their family and their loved ones. They hoped that by sacrificing their life, they would be able to save Japan from the enemy.

Immediately after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, the Japanese knew they would be fighting the Americans. They were confident in defeating them. However, as the tide was taking a turn, the Japanese military needed to raise morale and fighting spirit. Propaganda was normal and the civilians were led to believe that the Japanese were in fact winning the war effort and that their fathers and sons, husbands and brothers were serving their country honorably. Even if they died, their death would make their family proud and they would be honored as gods.

Air power proved to be an important factor in the war. Though the Japanese were probably equal or perhaps even stronger than the United States in terms of airpower at the beginning of the war, things took a turn as the war progressed. Their planes were being shot down one after another and their production could not keep up with the amount of planes they were losing. The Japanese just could not match the industrial power of the United States who appeared to have a virtually unlimited amount of resources. Not only were they greatly outnumbered eventually, but they proved to be outmatched and outclassed by their American counterparts.

The Japanese navy was once one of the greatest in the world. Many of the Japanese ships were some of the most advanced ships when they were built. However, by World War II, many were outdated and obsolete. As the war progressed, many ships were sunk and their navy was dwindling in force. The Japanese military needed a way to level the playing ground against their enemy. By sinking enemy ships, the Japanese had a chance. This was how the tokubetsu kōgeki-tai was developed. The idea, championed by Vice-Admiral Takijiro Onishi, was to strap a 250kg (approximately 550lbs) bomb on a Zero plane and crash it into an enemy ship. That was the birth of the kamikaze attack that sacrificed thousands of lives of a generation of Japanese males as young as fifteen years old.

One of the most surprising aspects of the tokkō-tai is the amount of volunteers that lined up to participate in these missions. By the end of the war, it was calculated that the amount of volunteers was double that of the available planes. Restrictions such as prohibiting first and only sons affected the overall numbers of participants, even though that number only comprised a small fraction of those who actually volunteered. Even though many of these volunteers did not initially know what their missions were, very few changed their minds when they eventually found out. They all knew was that the missions were dangerous and they would be risking their lives. They also knew that death was certain and when the exact description of their jobs was explained, they courageously accepted. The idea of being able to end the war and protecting their family from an invasion proved to be enough of a reason.

Some of these volunteers were straight from high school. Actually within a few months of the commencement of the tokkō missions, most of the pilots that were trained and recruited were fifteen and sixteen year olds. As Japan began to lose the war, they began lowering the standards for enlistment into the military and to become a pilot. Unemployment was at its highest ever and when schools began to close down, these teenagers had nowhere to go and nothing to do. All the propaganda films of the glory of the Japanese forces as well as the heroics of the Japanese military fueled their wants further in making a career serving the country.

During the pre-Meiji era, only those born into the samurai class were allowed to be samurais. Though some exceptions were made for some commoners, not everyone was capable of becoming one. However, after the Meiji Restoration (1868), the military became conscripted to mirror the styles of the West. Almost anyone who was physically and mentally capable was free to choose their career as a military man and serve either in the Imperial Japanese Army (IJA) or Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN).

Teenagers were giving up their lives for their country in a way totally different kind of way. In the west, it is unheard of. The Americans who experienced or saw it first hand could not believe their eyes. They thought the Japanese were insane. In fact, these acts were more desperate attempts by the Japanese to level the playing field. If they sunk more ships, they would still be in the game. This was the intention, however, only at the start of the war. As the battle progressed, many of the higher-ups knew Japan would lose. Without regard to this knowledge, they had a mentality of not surrendering and not giving up. This act was disgraceful and they would rather die than disgrace their family. One of the ideas of “bushido” (way of the warrior) was to preserve one’s honor. By sacrificing yourself, you are preserving the honor of your family. Takijiro Onishi (creator of the tokkō-tai) did just this at the end of the war.

At the height of the tokkō missions, the pilots themselves understood Japan’s position. They could not produce materials of war fast enough to balance out all the tanks, ships, and planes they were losing. Most importantly, their oil reserves were dwindling. There wasn’t enough material to prevail in the war and they needed to acquire a fuel source. One of the main reasons for Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor was to prevent the Americans from entering the war so quickly. An attack like that would push back their efforts by another year or two, giving Japan enough time to control the Dutch East Indies (Malaysia) and enough time to acquire the necessary fuel. Food was becoming scarce though the military and tokkō pilots did in fact eat better than the civilians. These pilots were treated like everyday was their last day with abundant amounts of food and sake. It was the least the military could do for them in return for making such a sacrifice.

These pilots only had hope. They were ready for death and many were actually relieved to know how they would die and that their death would in some way help their family. They hoped that their crash would have a large number of fatalities and that it would sink a ship. They hoped that their trips were successful and that they weren’t shot down before hitting their targets. These pilots pledged their life to preserve their country’s honor and protect their family from the enemy. To compare these heroes to terrorist is a clear sign of complete ignorance. Just because the two groups performed the same action does not mean they are the same. The quote “One man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter,” does not fit in this case. It does not fit because the Japanese weren’t terrorists. They sacrificed themselves because of love. They sacrificed themselves to protect their loved ones and their country, unlike the terrorist who killed because of hate.

Hide Nakata is a Halfway Contributor

I was never a very angsty teen. High school, as an overall experience, was neither good nor bad. I went to a pretty decent school in the suburbs where I fit the stereotype of the model minority almost perfectly (Math and Science classes were my Achilles Heel). To tell the truth, I was the quintessential nerd. Not only was I in band, but I was also a member of the National Honor Society and the captain of the Academic Team. I wish I could say that I’m embarrassed at my dorkiness, but because of the great relationships that arose from being a part of these groups, I have no regrets.

College, though, was a very different experience. For the first time in my life, I was going to a school with other Asians. Sadly enough, most of them were in the College of Engineering so I didn’t see too many of them in my English and Psychology classes. Initially, I had applied as a Psychology major and after a year, I decided I liked English so I picked that up as a minor. Soon, I decided to upgrade that into a major and then made it my primary major. After four and a half years, three summers on campus, and thirty extra hours, I graduated with a Bachelor of Art degree, and Distinction, in English along with a Bachelor of Science degree in Psychology. But anyway, back to my first day of school.

For us, classes didn’t begin until the middle of the week. The first couple of days consisted of stragglers moving into their dorms, students mobbing the bookstores, and various clubs ranged around the Quad trying to entice people into joining. During these couple of days, I would go out with my class schedule and a discreet map and memorize the locations of all the buildings my classes were in. That way, I wouldn’t be tagged as the newbie the following day. The next day, as I scurried from class to class, I saw various anxious looking students wandering around the Quad with their maps pulled out in front of them. Whenever I saw them, I gave a knowing smirk and hurried on my way. Every year, I smirked and even now, I’m smirking just thinking about all those poor lost little freshmen meandering around campus with their maps.

I didn’t enjoy college because I got to laugh at freshmen. What really made college a vastly different experience from high school were the classes. In high school, one basically has to take a core set of classes (history, math, science and English/literature). The classes are, more or less, chosen by the guidance counselor with very little input from the student. In college, aside from the few general education requirements, students are free to choose their classes. Admittedly, even these choices must be made within the limits of what’s required for their majors. Most schools, however, usually offer a range of classes even within the required electives.

A friend of mine once admitted to me that he thought that English majors probably enjoyed their school years more than other students because they have so much to choose from. I mean, think about it, there are so many authors and genres and time periods one can choose from. Compared to other majors, there is a broad range of topics to focus on in English. Personally, I have a fondness for Victorian literature and an especial interest in the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins.

But towards the end of my college career, I took a modern American poetry class as an honors seminar. That class was influential in opening my eyes to minority literature and poetry in the U.S. There are tons of fantastic poetry written by black, Latino and Asian poets and yet, they aren’t being taught in general English classes in high school or even college. Knowing this, I finally knew what I wanted to do: I was going to be an English teacher.

I have to admit, this decision was made somewhat subconsciously. Sometime my junior year, I had made up my mind to teach. However, I was never completely satisfied as to why I wanted to teach. You see, in high school, friends and family had suggested I become a teacher and I had always resisted. Rather vehemently, as a matter of fact. Now, I wanted to become a teacher. It was all very disconcerting. For awhile, after I had made my decision, when people asked me why I wanted to teach high school English, I would laugh and say, “I don’t like stupid people and I want to teach kids how to think.” This is still partly my reason for wanting to become an educator. But I still wasn’t completely satisfied with that as my motive. It seems very petty and selfish and egotistical.

Currently, I’m a second year graduate student studying for a masters degree in education and social policy at a school that’s ranked in the top ten for education. Though I can’t help feeling more loyal to the school I went during undergrad, I don’t hate this school, either. The campus is completely different since it’s in a more urban/suburban location than my alma mater. But what I like most about this school is that this is where I finally realized my real purpose for teaching. When I took the modern American poetry class, the seeds had been planted and they germinated and bloomed only recently. I want to teach, not only so I can teach students how to think, but so that I could expose them to literature they may not have read before. I mentioned earlier that I prefer Victorian literature/poetry over other genres. At the same time, I have this strong conviction regarding the importance of minority literature and I will gladly teach Gish Jen over Christina Rossetti.

School was never a horrible experience for me. Like I said, I was/am a nerd. Halfway through undergrad, I jokingly told a friend that I wouldn’t mind being a lifetime scholar. In my mind, going to school for the rest of my life wasn’t a form of torture, I would probably enjoy. Even now, I look back upon my days as an undergrad with more fondness than bitterness. With my career choice, it seems as if my dream of being a professional student will be realized. True, I’ll be a teacher, but if I want to be an innovative educator, I’ll also need to constantly study. At the same time, there is the distinct possibility of that I may attempt a Ph.D in English literature. But that’s all in the future. Regardless of whether I remain a high school English teacher or become a college professor, I know that I’m doing what I want. I’m going to be an educator and researcher, but most of all, I’ll be a scholar.

A. Kim is the Halfway Senior Editor