I Leaf Japanese Language Wo Learning Tight to Think.

The tiny room was stuffy. No breeze stirred the late afternoon air, heavy with humidity and pollen and expectations -- for the weekend, two days away; for finals, just around the corner. The converted laundry room on the back of the shabby Victorian house had no air conditioning, no fans, no insulation. A half-hearted attempt at a college classroom, it abutted a campus parking lot, and waves of heat rising from the asphalt outside pulsed through the room.

Shoichi-san, a grad student, guided the four students through the lesson as they fought sleep, or restlessness, or both. Each took his or her turn reading the romanized text aloud; it looked sort of like English but, if pronounced correctly, it sounded sort of like Japanese.

Watashi wa toshokan ni irasshaimasu. I go to the library.

Janet read a few tortuous sentences until Shoichi-san was satisfied. Paula plodded through her assigned paragraph. Laurie approached the words dully, as if trying to read underwater. The stagnant air was getting to her; she cracked a smile and tried not to giggle.

Enpitsu ga arimasu ka? Do you have a pencil?

Joe's turn. Joe's learning curve was flatter than those of his classmates. Japanese did not come easily to Joe, and the warm room and fidgety girls around him didn't make it any easier.

Joe looked at the page. The words swam before his eyes. Joe struggled through the sentence, syllable by syllable.

" . . . shi . . . ma . . . SHIT."

Shta. Joe had wanted to say shta, but it was too late. The word hung in the poisonous air with ponderous finality, daring any of the students to say a word. No words were needed.

I don't remember which of us started giggling first, but Janet and I were goners after that. Shoichi-san blinked at us through innocent eyes -- and ears.  "Eez ever'teeng . . . okayyy?" he asked. We assured him that we were just tired and punchy, that was all. Poor Joe was turning six shades of red and cursing the day he ever chose Japanese as an elective.

Class dismissed.

Comments

[Kathi D]

OMFG you're good.

[MomZombie]

Oh, the pain. Whenever I feel foolish for attempting to talk Mandarin to anyone Chinese, my teacher always reminds me of her first attempts at English, when she offered a glass of fresh, steamed pee to a guest in her home. She meant to say "steamed pear" as in pear juice. Needless to say, the guest declined.

[Da Goddess]

Not much has stayed with me from the time I had Japanese neighbors. Except for the admiration I had for Lisa, my best friend at the time, who could eat the tiniest crumb from the driest of cakes with chopsticks.

[Suz Broughton]

Oh, great story, beautifully told! and we've identified yet another talent of yours, writing in a Japanese accent. Does the genius ever stop?

[Bob Cleveland]

I also had to study British before I went to London on business.

Tough deal.

Just don't ever tell your waiter over there that your napkin is dirty and you need a clean one.

[Bob Cleveland]

I only know one Japanese word, the one for calf. A missionary friend taught it to me.

It's pronounced like "YUNG-KAH-OOOOH".

[Rick's Cafe]

So....
Does your Japanese have a Latin accent or does you Latin have a Japanese accent?

[Caution Flag]

This semester alone, I had one student reading aloud say, "Penis," instead of peanut. He walked out and NEVER came back. Another person in a different class read, "Orgasm," instead of organism. Unfortunately, the teacher can't really walk out and never come back. That teacher wanted to put that on her blog, but her elderly parents read it.

[Chesapeake Bay Woman]

You know Japanese too? What's the Japanese word for damn funny? Insert here in my comment.

My mother took Latin in high school. The teacher asked what "blah blah random Latin word blah" meant in English. My mother raised her hand, and the teacher called on her. Not able to decide whether the word meant town or city, she said titty.

And then proceeded to turn six shades of red, including one never before seen.