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Essay : An Old Story: Memories of Café English Lessons near Tokyo

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  Please forgive this old person for indulging in a little reminiscence. It was more than twenty years ago.   For several years, due to ill health, there was a period when I was unable to work outside the home. Then, fortunately, I happened to find a good doctor, and I finally began to feel that I might be able to return to work.   If I were going to work again, I thought, it might be useful if I could speak at least a little English.   But in those days, there were no video-sharing sites, no social media, and not even internet radio. The only thing I could listen to, more or less, was what was then known as FEN, the radio service for American military personnel stationed in Japan. There were very few opportunities to come into contact with English at home.   So I started looking for somewhere near my home where I could practise speaking English. And that was when I found a teacher offering what was advertised as ‘500-yen English conversati...
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Short Novel : Japanese expat children in 70s - 80s (5.1): A Japanese school on the seaside (Chapter 3)

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  1979 — Family and University Entrance Exam Preparations   When I returned to the boarding school, another move was waiting for me. Third-year students were given single rooms.   I left the four-bed room I'd been sharing and moved into a single room for senior students in another wing of the residence. The old desk had clearly seen years of use. Its surface was covered with messages and doodles left behind by generations of former occupants.   I heard that two of my former roommates had gone back to Japan. For some reason, quite a number of students seemed to have gone back to Japan after the spring holidays. By the time the first term began, our year group had shrunk from twenty-eight students to just fifteen.   Even a few of the friends I'd grown close to had gone. It felt as though little holes had been left in my heart. I missed them.   Our university entrance preparation began in earnest. The school organised supplementary ...
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Short Novel : Japanese expat children in 70s - 80s (5.1): A Japanese school on the seaside (Chapter 2)

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  1978 — Life at the Boarding School   Monday morning. First period was Mathematics.   "Good morning, everyone. Right then, open your books to page eighteen..." I did as I was told, but several of my classmates still looked half asleep.   A month had slipped by since I'd arrived at the Japanese boarding school. I'd become quite used to eating in the dining hall. That morning, Maiko and I were chatting over scrambled eggs as usual. Before we knew it, the bell rang, ten minutes before lessons were due to begin. We grabbed our bags and ran to the classroom.   It didn't take me long to notice that, out of the twenty-eight students in our year, fewer than I'd expected paid much attention in lessons. It was the same in Mathematics as it was in Japanese. Some slept with their heads on their desks. Others didn't even bother to listen.   The moment the bell rang at the end of each lesson, a handful of students disappeared outside, ...
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Short Novel : Japanese expat children in 70s - 80s (5): A Japanese school on the seaside (Chapter 1)

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1978 – The Japanese Boarding School by the Sea "A Japanese school." I'd never heard the term before. It was only when Father was told he was being transferred to England for three years that it entered my life. In 1977, I was in my first year of high school, attending one of the city's top academic schools. If I worked hard enough, I believed I could sit the entrance exams for the university I wanted. Then came the news of Father’s transfer. The following year, in early summer 1978, my parents took me to England with my younger brother, who had only just started junior high school. Father had only one plan. He was determined to put both of us into British schools. I wanted nothing of the sort. I wanted to go to a Japanese high school. Even so, as soon as we arrived in England, Father dragged my brother and me from one school interview to another. Everywhere we went, the answer was the same. “You're already seventeen, and you don't speak English. I'm afraid...
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Short Novel : Japanese expat children in 70s - 80s (4) Chicago : Welcome Home　

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  I was an American.   I was seven years old when we went back to Chicago. I had been born in Japan, but America was home. I thought of myself as an American.   My parents were Japanese, but they'd both spent time in America back in the 1950s. In our family, it was just understood that someday we'd go back to America.   Dad was Japanese, but in his heart—and in the way he spoke—he was an American.   Even when we were still living in Japan, I spoke English with Dad. Inside our house, we spoke nothing but English. Whenever I said something to him, he'd stop me.   "Ken, that's not how an American says it." I'd try again. "Still not good enough." Sometimes I felt like crying.   I'd say it exactly the way Dad had said it. I'd roll my tongue. I'd try to get the sound just right. And then Dad's face would break into a huge grin. "Now that's American. Don't you forget it." ...
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