At the end of the school term, a gaggle of students
and teachers from Japanese school congregated at the usual restaurant-bar.
The vibes were good but the kitchen was understaffed. “Master,”
who ran the place, allowed me into his kitchen to lend a hand.
As the hungry crowds pressed in, my inexperience overshadowed my
enthusiasm. Master looked like a man having second thoughts as he
watched my wobbly handling of the knives. My “everything but
the kitchen sink” salad had him shaking his head, muttering
“American concoctions.”
Afterwards, wanting leave Master with a sense of my charm rather
than incompetence, I whispered to my teacher “Sensei, how
do you say in Japanese ‘thanks for letting me play in your
kitchen?’”
What he taught me was “Thank you (expressed in a form used
by a person of lower status to a person of higher status) for permitting
me to help (intransitive, causative tense).”
As I struggled to repeat the convoluted sentence, Sensei's eyes
bulged. “But I taught you the causative tense three months
ago. Chapter 48!”
I ran to Master with the broken bits of gratitude. A genuine expression
of appreciation was beyond me, but I hoped to at least score points
for effort.
Sensei behind me added a few words to Master “degimopuiaerfeqa…warui...
qiveweyureonisu.” Master nodded.
I spun around “What?!” The only word I caught was warui.
Warui meant bad.
“What did you tell him? Did you say I spoke badly? That I
was a bad student? That I was a bad cook? That I made a mess of
the kitchen? What BAD?”
“No! No, I didn’t! Well, yes, yes…okay. I did
say you were warui. But it is common in Japanese culture to put
down people you are close to.”
This particular teacher was not the most patient of teachers but
that night, he actually cared enough to shake me out of my hysterics.
He tried to convince me that insulting me was a good thing.
“It’s normal. Putting down someone from my group is
a way of deferring to someone out of respect. Parents do that all
the time. When I insult you, it’s like saying you are like
my daughter”
Once I’d calmed down, some of what he said started to make
sense. According to our textbooks, who you are and who you talk
to affects what is said and how it is delivered. In this case though,
what I heard was not simply what my teacher considered a harmless
comment. After a night of shaky self-confidence, it felt like a
confirmation of my own inadequacy.
“That comment had nothing to do with your real ability.”
Sensei paused. “Surely this doesn’t just exist in Japanese
culture. It’s Asian. Or maybe your own family is too Americanized?”
“Actually…” Maybe he had a point. “Yes,
my own mother called me stupid too. And at the time, it hurt.”
My teacher had heard enough. “What did I tell you? The real
problem is you. You are too American.” He crossed his arms
and smirked.
It was true. In that sense, I felt very American. I wanted Master
to tell me that it was a pleasure having me in the kitchen whether
or not he meant it. As for my mother, instead sitting around the
Mah Jong table with her friends complaining about her useless children,
I wanted her to tell them that I occasionally behaved myself. I
wanted Sensei to tell Master that even though I didn’t know
how to say thank you in a verb tense I’d learned three months
earlier, that really, I had the best intentions in mind.
On my own, I suffered no shortage of self doubts and put downs.
But in the self-help culture I sought inspiration from, I learned
that being successful had as much to do with reality as simply believing
in a delusional reality. I wanted gentle let downs if not outright
white lies. It’s a tough gig because clearly, self-delusion
for one requires a network of cooperation from many.
Tonight, the old message from my childhood expressed in a new context
told me something I should have heard years ago: that no one is
as obsessed with me as I am. Most people are busy maintaining good
relations, doing their part to make the world turn a little smoother.
For my teacher and my mother, the reality of a person’s abilities
is of little significance. What you really needed was to understand
your position in the grand scheme of the universe. That's all.
Somehow, it works. While my grammar skills did not improve, at
the end of that night, I finally got a grasp of the vague world
of group and rank and my place in it. I hoped that eventually, I
would be able to use it to bring a little sense into my own world.
In time, my moment will come. One day, I will be called upon to
witness a show of awkward self deprecation for my benefit. And with
that, with no need for actual self improvement, I will have finally
arrived at the position of the honored one. |
