Arigato

The charming gentleman in this photo is my host father, Mr. Watari (Otou-san, preferably). He is the cheesiest and kindest person on the planet. He cherishes his wife and two daughters, and in his spare time he tends to his garden on a mountain three hours outside of Hiroshima. His preferred drink is beer, and he has a new fascination for TexJoy. Despite his quirks, Mr. Watari is extremely insecure with his English conversational skills. So much so, that for the first two days he and I essentially played charades--my slapshod Japanese would give him leeway, but then his "broken English" (his words) would take away that slack and we'd be back at square one, motioning to each other that we each wanted a napkin.

The prompt this week made me think about him—specifically the grand narrative that Japanese cannot “master” the English language in a short amount of time. Language acquisition is a rigorous process, and our studies of how narratives are constructed and spread across the globe is a testament to that. In order to communicate effectively, we have to have some hold on the language or medium we’re using to share the narrative/spread the message. Ikuko Tsuboya-Newell explores this struggle to develop English communication skills in his article "Why do Japanese have trouble learning English?" and illuminates a struggle that makes me (and most of my students) groan during Comp courses: navigating grammar.

“Usually, the poor achievement is blamed on the way English is taught in schools. It is said that there is too much classroom emphasis on grammar with very little time devoted to actual conversational practice. The emphasis is mainly on the silent skills of reading and writing. Listening is rather passive as opposed to being an active part of a conversation. The focus is on accuracy and avoiding grammatical mistakes” (The Japan Times, 2017).

The problem is that Mr. Watari isn’t a student anymore. He is a successfully retired middle-school Science teacher who taught at an institution that combined Japanese and English instruction. However, in our conversations at dinner or while watching TV he would always ask me grammar-oriented questions in the hopes that he would better his English while I lived with him and his family. The worries exhibited in The Japan Times article are still prevalent today for this man whose only wish was to have an open, enjoyable conversation with me in English. I found out that Mr. Watari was sometimes ridiculed for not being able to converse in English, as well as not being able to know the intricacies of English grammar. His daughter, Aki, told me she believed his insecurities were not stemming from his conception of English grammar, but more from his ability to converse and share stories. Some of his golfing buddies only spoke English, and as much as he tried to hold longer conversations in English, he only ended up embarrassed. He wanted to do more, but he didn't know where to start. So, she and I hatched a plan: they would give me informal Japanese lessons at home and I would in turn give them conversational English lessons.

At the end of my stay in Hiroshima, the Watari family hosted a tiny going away party at their house. My host parents spent hours on the dinner, and this was the result:

The food was delicious, as usual. Every single meal we shared in that house was homemade and incorporated different food items from various places in Japan. Mr. Watari even incorporated the TexJoy I brought him as a thank-you gift. But that wasn’t even the best part of the night. Right before we started eating, Mr. Watari said he had something he needed to tell me. He pulled out a piece of paper and began reading a letter/speech he wrote for me in English. There’s a video recording of him giving the speech and me crying like a baby because he “adopted” me into his family. In his letter, he explained that he was thankful for my visit to Japan and was surprised at my appetite. He also shared that he felt more confident in his English skills thanks to our mock-teaching lessons. It was a very tender moment for all of us.

The next day, I found out that Mr. Watari had spent hours writing, re-writing, and editing the letter so that he could tell his story/feelings to his family and me. The reason he spent so much time on it was not because of a fear of grammar or using the right terminology, but because he wanted to make a point. He wanted, in Aki’s words, to “break the idea that he couldn’t learn English well”. By taking a giant leap of faith, and a few drinks of sake, my host father decided to counter the grand narrative of disbelief with his own smaller, more honest narrative of due diligence. 

I hated leaving the Watari family. They are a lovely, helpful, and quirky group of people who I miss dearly. The last update I've had of my host father was that he had had a slight bout of pneumonia, but was doing better and back on the golf course. I am hopeful that one day, I'll make my way back to Hiroshima and be able to stay with them for a little while longer. And maybe, just maybe, I'll share a beer with my host dad while watching the sun set on the Land of the East.