Anna Matsushita

  Permit me to indulge in a bit of nostalgic musing, a reminiscence from nearly forty years ago. At the time, my family had relocated to London due to my father’s work. As a result, I found myself attending an international school in the city, and, after a spell, transferring to another one. London, even then, was a vibrant mosaic of cultures, a veritable melting pot of peoples. Yet, these two schools, both ostensibly “international,” had strikingly different demographics. The first school I attended had only a sprinkling of British students. The rest of the cohort hailed predominantly from the Middle East, Asia, and Africa, with a significant number adhering to the Islamic faith. This was, of course, decades ago, and one imagines the mix has shifted since. At that time, however, it was clear: the school’s corridors echoed with a rich blend of accents and languages from these regions. What struck me most was how forthcoming everyone was about their origins. It was as if announcing ...

  Approximately 40 years ago. During my time at school in the UK, an incident occurred that has lingered vividly in my memory.  One day, as I sat reading a newspaper in the classroom, a senior student—a year above me—spotted me. Later that day, he approached me in the hallway and said, “Will you bring the newspaper of yours?” Without much thought, I responded, “Roger, wilco,” before heading off to fetch the newspaper, which I had left behind in the classroom. No sooner had I uttered the phrase than a Canadian teacher nearby interjected, visibly startled: “What did you just say?” I replied, slightly perplexed, “I said, ‘Roger, wilco.’” “And what does that mean?” he demanded. “It means the same as ‘Aye aye, sir,’” I explained, hoping to clarify. To my surprise, this only seemed to deepen his confusion. “If ‘Aye aye, sir’ is a naval term,” he pressed, “then ‘Roger, wilco’ must surely be an Air Force expression. Why would a Japanese student like you know military jargon?” I couldn...

     "Whoa, you can like, speak English? No way, like a native or something!" This was a catchphrase of a former supervisor during my time at a certain company. He seemed to believe that calling someone “native” just because they could use a bit of English would somehow flatter them. It struck me as shallow.   In the professional world, whether during meetings, business exchanges, or social dinners, I’ve had numerous opportunities to use English. Over time, I’ve observed two ideals emerge:   *Achieving near-native fluency in English is, of course, desirable.   *Yet, equally critical is the ability to communicate effectively with those for whom English is not their mother tongue.   These ideals reflect a challenging paradox.   The Challenge of Non-Native Communication   Having attended an international high school, one of the most valuable lessons I gained wasn’t just English proficiency—it was the ability to comm...

This is a fiction based on my personal experience at a university in Tokyo, back in early 1990's   ------------------------------------------------------   I first noticed her in October 1987, during the admissions interview at Zophia University in Tokyo.   The English department, my dream destination, had a rigorous selection process—both a written test and an interview. Having cleared the written test, I received the much-anticipated interview invitation.   I’d spent five years in the northwest of England during my secondary school years. This background gave me an advantage, but my motivations ran deeper than just fluency. I wanted to study linguistics, to truly understand the English language from every angle. My aspirations spanned teaching, translation, or even interpreting. I had a lot riding on this.   The interview was to last just ten minutes—a brief window to define my future. How it would go, I couldn’t predict, but I’d prepared myself as best I coul...