Month Two

(written in early September)

→ Expert: This notebook is made of special neutral paper which can be written with a smooth touch.

First day.

I don’t speak Japanese.

I don’t understand Japanese.

Many Japanese people in my area do not speak much English.

Leaving home in the morning, I panic. Will I remember the way to school? Turn left after the AU cell phone store. What if I pass it and don’t realize it? What if it’s farther down the road than I thought? What if I get lost and show up late? [a mortal embarrassment—there’s a hole in my head where “never be late in Japan” has been drilled through, next to the “never ever (get caught) speed (ing) or have a car accident” hole] I watch the streets and stores vigilantly, watch my speedometer, watch the traffic around me; I am alert in every direction.

I pass the AU store, I slow down and turn left. A short distance up the road on the right I see the soccer fields and the bland walls-and-windows construction of Hamawake Junior High School. I pull forward into a parking space, not yet having mastered the almost universal practice here of backing in. I would rather stand out than scrape the paint off of one of my new co-workers’ shiny Mitsubishis.

Now I have to choose the correct entrance from the three sets of glass doors at the front of the building. Two are for students; one is for teachers. If I choose the wrong one, not only will I be committing an embarrassing error, I will also not be at my locker. And then I will mess up the prescribed shoe-changing ritual of which my locker is an integral part.

1. While standing on the floor for outside shoes, right next to the platform or
below the ledge of the floor for inside shoes, reach into your locker and take out
your inside shoes.
2. Place your inside shoes on the platform or floor, whichever is closer.
3. Take off your outside shoes and step into your inside shoes in one motion.
4. Reach down, pick up your outside shoes, and place them in the locker.
5. If you are on the platform, walk along the platform until you reach the ledge,
step up onto the floor for inside shoes, and continue on your merry way.

Somehow I manage to find my way through the right door; I complete the shoe-changing ritual, albeit sloppily, since my arms are full of posters, papers, lunch, computer bag, water bottle, coffee mug, etc.; I navigate the school halls from memory and successfully arrive in the teachers’ room on the second floor; I call out “good morning” from the doorway and nod-bow (I have not yet perfected the art of full bowing without falling over); I walk in and sit down at my desk.

Relief. Part one (of who knows how many—it seems like there are an infinite number of firsts) accomplished.

As I lay out my things on my desk, Mr. M. comes up to greet me.

“Good morning, Catherine. Here is your schedule for today. Before classes begin, you will introduce yourself to all the teachers at the morning meeting and then to an assembly of all the students. In Japanese—is that okay?”

[Refer to the beginning:
I don’t speak Japanese.]

“Sure, of course it’s okay.”

“Good. The teachers’ meeting is in five minutes.”

I can’t remember the introduction speech that I wrote two weeks ago. And anyway, I found out after I had given it multiple times that some of my grammar was wrong. Even though I had asked a native speaker before giving it if it was correct. I don’t like to say things incorrectly in front of big groups of people, especially big groups of junior high school students.

More small panic. Oh well, I guess I’ll make a ten-second speech. Better than nothing.

Open with a nod-bow.

“
Ohayoo gozaimasu.
Watashi wa Catherine desu.
America no Indiana kara kimashita.
Nihon wa hajimete desu.
Doozo yoroshiku. Onegai shimasu.
”

[
Good morning.
I’m Catherine.
I’m from Indiana in America.
I’m in Japan for the first time.
I’m very pleased to meet you.
]

Close with a nod-bow.

Or something like that. I still don’t know if the Japanese is right. But nobody snickered or giggled, at least that I could hear.

After I gave my speech in front of the students, the class president came forward and spoke on behalf of the students. Before he began, he bowed deeply. Nervous and terrified of falling face forward and cracking my head open on the podium, I didn’t bow in response. When he finished, he bowed deeply again. Still nervous and terrified, I stood there stiffly.

In Japan, you should always bow. Whenever. Wherever. To whomever.

My life is replete with mistakes. Any time I’m not making a full-on mistake, I’m making a mini-mistake or an almost-mistake. Or I’m feeling like I’m making a mistake.

It’s okay. That’s how it goes at the start.

Shitsuree shimashita.
[Excuse me].

I say this often. I need to say it more. And bow a lot. Maybe bow a little deeper.

(And pray that I don’t fall forward. I have a tendency to crack my head open).