Mouichido
When I applied to be an exchange student, it was at the suggestion of my French teacher. Mme. LaFrancis (and with that name, how could she have been anything but a French teacher) was one of the people in my life who believed in me enough to make me think that the world could be open for me in spite of the hurdles. I was in my third year of French at the time. The first year had been a normal classroom experience, but the second and third were independent study. Mme. LaFrancis saw enough promise in me that she arranged for me to continue in French despite schedule conflicts. We would meet for 15 minutes of each 30 minute lunch period for me to turn in assignments, ask questions or take tests. The rest was all on my own time. I was no expert, but I was comfortable with the language at that point. I wrote to a pen pal in French, entertained myself by taking notes for other classes in French, and even read an untranslated Balzac novel. So when I was assigned to a non-French-speaking country, we were all a little surprised. I was happy to be matched with a family in a small Japanese town, but at the time of that revelation, I had only a few months to add an entirely different language to my skills.
At that time, Japanese was not taught in my high school, or in any other nearby school that I knew of. There were no friends or relatives in the area who could teach me. Although one of my aunts was Japanese, she had remarried after my uncle's death, and I hadn't seen her since I was around seven. My public library didn't have much on the subject, so I ended up teaching myself from a sheaf of blurry photocopies I borrowed from a friend of a friend. The lessons were very basic, the sort of simple introductory phrases you learn in the first couple of chapters of an average language textbook. I memorized them and practiced them until I could say hello, tell people my name and where I was from, comment on the weather and ask for directions to the bathroom (which better not be too complicated.) Meticulously copying each of the hiragana symbols from the chart in my borrowed lessons did me no good. The reduced scale and poor print quality muddled them up, and even the clearer ones came out odd when I drew them. Without learning how to make the letters, which strokes came first and even which direction to draw them, they just didn't look right to anyone accustomed to reading them. This was pointed out quickly by my seven year old host sister when I arrived in the country. She promptly started playing school and teaching me the proper way, as I'm sure she had only recently learned herself. I have since just about given up on being able to read and write Japanese. If I managed to get hiragana down, there are katakana and kanji to learn, too.
Likewise, I discovered that learning a language without the benefit of hearing it doesn't work so well either. Fundamental things like accents or the way the sound drops off the end of "desu" had totally escaped my notice until I was in Japan listening to the words in use around me. Luckily, my host mother was an English tutor. She was very patient and helpful, both in correcting my flawed attempts and teaching me more of the basic words and phrases I'd need to know. I still clearly remember sitting accross from her at the kitchen table repeating "ryouri / cooking" until I got the pronunciation just right. I never was really good at speaking Japanese, but with her help and the constant immersion, I reached a point where I generally knew what people were talking about around me.
Of course, Japan is a good place to be a novice with the language. English is taught in school from the early grades; so although people have varying levels of fluency, almost everyone you meet knows at least a few words. Most Japanese are happy to work with you on communication, bridging the space between the imperfect vocabularies with smiles, drawings or gestures. Intention to understand goes a long way.
Now that I'm reviewing basic Japanese lessons in preparation for next year's trip, I know that I don't have to speak flawlessly, but I'm nervous anyway. I'll be the primary communicator since I've got some experience, and languages don't come easy to my husband. Still, a little experience serves to show you just how little you really know. In some ways, Japanese is simpler than English or any other language I've studied. There is generally only one way to write any given sound or syllable in the basic syllabaries, a consistent set of sounds and spelling. They don't have plural nouns as we know them. There are no tables of verb conjugation. On the other hand, there are particles to use in different situations, vocabulary rules that change depending on your relationship to the listener, and counting markers to attach to numbers based on the qualities of what's counted. There are more than enough ways to slip up and sound like an idiot. And I will. I will forget rules and discover holes in my vocabulary, pronounce things wrong and generally be a clumsy foreigner when I try to make myself understood. I can't hope to be good, only good enough. I'll be depending on the Japanese willingness to understand and politeness to strangers. Since a lifetime of study probably wouldn't help me absorb every rule, my focus will be on basic useful phrases, including the humbling ones to use when you just didn't learn enough. "Sumimasen, wakarimasen / excuse me, I don't understand."
There is one other word that comes in handy when you're trying hard to communicate. "Mouichido" means "one more time." You can use it to ask someone to repeat themselves while you try to absorb what they've said. "Mouichido, kudasai / again, please." Right now, it's lingering in my thoughts as I play and replay the lessons, as I greet each word like an old friend I haven't seen in a decade. The phrases are familiar, but I am unaccustomed to saying them, unaccustomed to thinking in the language. So, I repeat. And I repeat, in the hopes that they'll be there ready to use when speaking or listening in Japanese is required. Again and again.
One more time.
Mouichido.
At that time, Japanese was not taught in my high school, or in any other nearby school that I knew of. There were no friends or relatives in the area who could teach me. Although one of my aunts was Japanese, she had remarried after my uncle's death, and I hadn't seen her since I was around seven. My public library didn't have much on the subject, so I ended up teaching myself from a sheaf of blurry photocopies I borrowed from a friend of a friend. The lessons were very basic, the sort of simple introductory phrases you learn in the first couple of chapters of an average language textbook. I memorized them and practiced them until I could say hello, tell people my name and where I was from, comment on the weather and ask for directions to the bathroom (which better not be too complicated.) Meticulously copying each of the hiragana symbols from the chart in my borrowed lessons did me no good. The reduced scale and poor print quality muddled them up, and even the clearer ones came out odd when I drew them. Without learning how to make the letters, which strokes came first and even which direction to draw them, they just didn't look right to anyone accustomed to reading them. This was pointed out quickly by my seven year old host sister when I arrived in the country. She promptly started playing school and teaching me the proper way, as I'm sure she had only recently learned herself. I have since just about given up on being able to read and write Japanese. If I managed to get hiragana down, there are katakana and kanji to learn, too.
Likewise, I discovered that learning a language without the benefit of hearing it doesn't work so well either. Fundamental things like accents or the way the sound drops off the end of "desu" had totally escaped my notice until I was in Japan listening to the words in use around me. Luckily, my host mother was an English tutor. She was very patient and helpful, both in correcting my flawed attempts and teaching me more of the basic words and phrases I'd need to know. I still clearly remember sitting accross from her at the kitchen table repeating "ryouri / cooking" until I got the pronunciation just right. I never was really good at speaking Japanese, but with her help and the constant immersion, I reached a point where I generally knew what people were talking about around me.
Of course, Japan is a good place to be a novice with the language. English is taught in school from the early grades; so although people have varying levels of fluency, almost everyone you meet knows at least a few words. Most Japanese are happy to work with you on communication, bridging the space between the imperfect vocabularies with smiles, drawings or gestures. Intention to understand goes a long way.
Now that I'm reviewing basic Japanese lessons in preparation for next year's trip, I know that I don't have to speak flawlessly, but I'm nervous anyway. I'll be the primary communicator since I've got some experience, and languages don't come easy to my husband. Still, a little experience serves to show you just how little you really know. In some ways, Japanese is simpler than English or any other language I've studied. There is generally only one way to write any given sound or syllable in the basic syllabaries, a consistent set of sounds and spelling. They don't have plural nouns as we know them. There are no tables of verb conjugation. On the other hand, there are particles to use in different situations, vocabulary rules that change depending on your relationship to the listener, and counting markers to attach to numbers based on the qualities of what's counted. There are more than enough ways to slip up and sound like an idiot. And I will. I will forget rules and discover holes in my vocabulary, pronounce things wrong and generally be a clumsy foreigner when I try to make myself understood. I can't hope to be good, only good enough. I'll be depending on the Japanese willingness to understand and politeness to strangers. Since a lifetime of study probably wouldn't help me absorb every rule, my focus will be on basic useful phrases, including the humbling ones to use when you just didn't learn enough. "Sumimasen, wakarimasen / excuse me, I don't understand."
There is one other word that comes in handy when you're trying hard to communicate. "Mouichido" means "one more time." You can use it to ask someone to repeat themselves while you try to absorb what they've said. "Mouichido, kudasai / again, please." Right now, it's lingering in my thoughts as I play and replay the lessons, as I greet each word like an old friend I haven't seen in a decade. The phrases are familiar, but I am unaccustomed to saying them, unaccustomed to thinking in the language. So, I repeat. And I repeat, in the hopes that they'll be there ready to use when speaking or listening in Japanese is required. Again and again.
One more time.
Mouichido.
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