I enjoy teaching English as a Second Language privately, through one-on-one and small group meetings. With some students we've been going through the Polite Fictions - Why Japanese and Americans Seems Rude to Each Other. A Japanese and an American share the authorship, and its concepts are illustrated by poignant, often amusing, stories. The book was invaluable during my Japan stay.
Recenty I asked one of the two graduate students I tutor ("Kenji") what he had learned about American culture while in California. He said, "Americans are independent."
"How did you learn that?" I asked. I thought he would refer back to Polite Fictions. Afterall, it explains and contrasts the differences in the two cultures in this aspect.
But the personal is more powerful. Kenji spoke of the great impact of a simple interaction between he and me that's taken place repeatedly. I'll explain.
I tutor Kenji and "Taku" (both psyeudonyms) in their residences on the Stanford campus. Their lesson times are 15 minutes apart and their homes are a 7-10 minute walk from each other. This walk involves some confusing zig zagging through lawns and buildings with no names and few landmarks. (By car it would be more circuitous and take just as long!)
The first time I was to introduced to Kenji, it was through Taku, who offered to walk me to Kenji's home. Approaching Kenji's home, I told Taku, "I'm afraid I won't be able to find my way back to my car."
Once we arrived, Taku asked Kenji to walk me back at the lesson's end. He instantly replied "Of course," or something similar in Japanese.
I expected that after that first escort back, I'd be left on my own. It's a reasonable assumption that I would take care of myself after being lead on this route twice and they are busy guys. Often one look at their haggard faces tells me they've been sleeping very little.
Yet, they've kept offering. Whenever I need to walk from one home to the other, my host puts on his shoes and jacket and walks me to the next place. I often feel embarrased to be causing them to walk out in chilly night air in shorts, taking their time. I sometimes protest, "I think I can find my way now. Just point me in the right direction."
"I can take you there."
"You don't have to. Are you sure you want to do that?" I say.
"Yes." And the kind guy puts on his shoes and escorts me. Since I am directionally disabled, I've been quite grateful.
Taku or Kenji do this not because they want more English practice (which is fun for both of us), but because it's the Japanese way, to offer help, often repeatedly and at some cost of time or energy to the person giving.
I saw this in how school teachers or piano teacher treated my children when we lived there, going beyond what Americans in similar positions would consider their responsibility.
This interdependency and caring for people with whom one is related is a strength of Japanese culture, something I often miss here in California.
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