Perfect

 

As a university student, I had a part-time job as a front-desk clerk in a bowling alley. Selecting lanes for the players was one of the clerk’s jobs. There were rules to decide the lanes. Couples could play on lanes near other couples, but groups should play on lanes far from couples to prevent players from disturbing each other.

The thing we had to be most careful about was selecting lanes for the regular advanced players. It was thirty years ago, and the bowling boom had already faded. But some players still came to the bowling alley almost every day. Of course, they had their own bowling balls, shoes, and protectors.

This could be different in other bowling alleys, but at my bowling alley, we let the regular advanced players play on the center lanes and we let beginners play on the outer lanes. Some beginners throw the bowling ball roughly, which damages the lane. This damage to the lane could affect the advanced players’ games and scores. Once I was scolded because I selected the center lane for a rough player. Our job included keeping the center lanes in good condition.

Sometimes regular advanced players treated us to soda. I thought they were cool.

One day, I came to the bowling alley after one day off. A regular advanced player came to me with a big smile on his face and said, “Please don’t mention that anymore. That is enough, enough. I was just lucky….”

I had no idea what he was talking about. I couldn’t say anything, and my face was expressionless. He looked disappointed in my reaction. I didn’t know why.

My co-worker told me later: The player bowled a perfect game the day before. A perfect game is very difficult to achieve, even for advanced players. I worked at the bowling alley for half a year, but I never saw a perfect game.

I heard that the day before everyone at the alley was so excited because there was a perfect game. I didn’t know because I was off that day. It is not something that should be written on a business communication note, but someone should have told me beforehand. I disappointed one of the best players.

I just imagined his final throw in the perfect game: The other regular advanced players in the center lane stopped their games to avoid disturbing him. The beginners, couples, and groups of players focused on him. When he got a strike with his final throw, everyone cheered.

I wish I had been one of them.

Picture by freehand

 

The White-Covered Book

 

When I was a graduate student, I met a unique professor. I found him interesting, and I often visited his office. When I visited him, he always made time to talk with me.

One day when I visited his office, he was reading a unique book and looked extremely focused on it. I was interested in the book. Its cover was completely white, with no letters or pictures. Nothing was printed on it, and I had never seen that kind of book. I tried to read the book from behind him. It looked like a high school textbook...

When the professor noticed I was reading the book, he hid it quickly. Then he stood up, bowed to me, and said, “Keep this matter secret, please.”

He always spoke to me in a friendly manner, but at that time, he asked me very politely.

Sniffing around someone’s secret is not good. I didn’t ask him any questions about the book. I had no idea what the book was.

About ten years later, I guessed the secret.

In Japan, the Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology officially approves the textbooks publishers produce, and a committee selects textbooks for public high schools. During this process, the Ministry and committee accept suggestions from experts. This is my theory: The Ministry asks the publishers to print books with white covers. Then the white-covered books are given to the experts to hide the publication details. The book might be printed without the publisher’s name, author’s name, and imprint. The Ministry and the committee should not give the experts any clues to avoid any corruption, bribery, and prejudice.

I guess my professor was one of these experts, and he needed keep this secret. He was a historian. History textbooks are always controversial. All publishers want printing permission and want to be selected to publish textbooks for public high schools. If his secret was revealed, it could be bothersome for him.

I assumed he was a not great professor because he always welcomed our conversations. I thought he was not busy. Furthermore, his office was always untidy, with many books lying around. But he could be a greater professor than I thought.

That was twenty years ago. He could have climbed the career ladder. Recently Japan decided the new name of an era. Experts suggested the candidates for the name; the names of those experts were kept secret. I suspect my professor could have been one of the experts.

Picture by Totallypic

When I First Met My Brother-in-law

 

My wife’s sister is married to a British man and lives in London. So my brother-in-law is a British gentleman.

When my wife was still my girlfriend, I was introduced to her sister and her brother-in-law. They were visiting Japan for a short time. We planned a one-day trip. My girlfriend’s parents, sister, and brother-in-law and my girlfriend and I gathered at a bus station one early morning. I was studying English. I tried to speak with my girlfriend’s brother-in-law in English and show off my English ability to her parents. Furthermore, I wanted her to find me attractive.

I was studying American English, and her brother-in-law spoke British English. There are differences between these varieties of English. But, somehow, I was still able to communicate with him. I assumed that my girlfriend and her parents thought better of me after hearing my English. I assumed I had made it.

I got onto the bus we were traveling on. My girlfriend followed me. When we sat down she whispered some words to me. I was expecting the sweetest whisper I had ever heard. But she actually said, “Your nose hair is waving at everyone.”

Apparently, whether or not we speak English is irrelevant. When we meet people, we should pay more attention to our appearance.

Picture by watcartoon

Two Professors and their Interpreters

 

When I was a graduate student, I attended a lecture meeting. The lecturers were two professors who were both English speakers. The venue was in Japan. Simultaneous interpreters assisted us.

There were big differences between the two professors. Professor A gave us the lecture very eloquently. It was as if he was talking to us directly. Professor B gave us the lecture with the interpreters. They got along very well with each other. Professor B spoke slowly and clearly. He talked in very short sentences. Sometimes he waited for the interpreter finish the translation.

If you asked me which professor’s lecture was easy to understand, I’d definitely say Professor B’s was. Professor A’s lecture was too eloquent. I felt the interpreters were confused. I could not understand Professor A’s lecture.

I guess Professor A had little experience giving a lecture abroad or didn’t know the difficulties involved in studying a foreign language. He didn’t seem to understand how interpreters worked.

A person who works as a simultaneous interpreter can think in two languages at the same time. This is a special ability. But the person is not psychic. He or she needs some breaks in order to translate a long lecture.

About fifteen years ago, I heard that first-rate simultaneous interpreters could get paid US$ 1,500 per hour. I can’t be a simultaneous interpreter. I am not even good at simple interpretation. I just want to get paid US$ 1,500 per hour. I wish I could work for just two hours a month. And I wish I could enjoy the time left, which would be plenty of free time.

Picture by TeraVector

The Two Professors and the Suit

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I was still a graduate student, I basically wore casual clothes and worn-out shirts and jeans in the university.

One day, Professor A scolded me. “You are a graduate student, not just a student. You should wear suit and tie!”

I didn’t have any particular interest in what I wear, so I bought suits and ties. I started to dress formally in the university.

However, one day, Professor B scolded me. “Don’t try to look good! If you have money to spend on the clothes, you should buy books and should study!”

 I could understand what Professor A and B said. I really respect both of them. As a result, I wore suit and tie when I met Professor A, and I wore worn-out casual clothes when I met Professor B.

 Professor A and B taught me a very interesting lesson: if an adult male, like me, is dressed formally or casually, the reactions of the people I have just met the first time are completely different, especially in daytime during weekdays. Sometimes, the results are good. Sometimes, they are not. If only I can balance formal and casual wear effectively, it would be very convenient.

Picture by maimu

Hiding in the Toilet and Studying

 

 When I was a child, I was a sickly boy. I often caught a cold. When I caught a cold, my mother took me to the hospital that my grandaunt runs. My grandaunt was a medical doctor. She always gave me an injection. Of course, I was scared of her and I hated her. She was a doctor. I had never felt any special feeling about that, but there were many stories about her life.

 This story is not about the grandaunt I mentioned before who had Alzheimer’s disease and who I took care of. This is a different person. This grandaunt is her sister.

 When my grandaunt was younger, she wanted to be a medical doctor, but her parents (my great-grandparents) objected to it. Even now, there are many barriers to female students becoming a doctor. Lately, it was reported that some medical university in Japan gave handicaps to female students when they took entrance exams. Those days there might be a lot of barriers to my grandaunt. She studied in the toilet to hide from her parents, and she broke through all the barriers. Finally, she became a doctor. She was the very first Western female medical doctor in Aichi Prefecture. There were a lot of female doctors in Chinese medical history, so we shouldn’t define her as the first female doctor. Anyway, she had been a general practitioner ever since I can remember.

I always wondered why my mother took me to the hospital where my grandaunt worked. That hospital was a little far away from our home. We needed to take a train to the hospital. It was hard for me because I had a cold. Recently, though, I solved the mystery. My mother was a famous feminist. She respected my grandaunt. My mother paid her a visit as a form of courtesy, and they exchanged information, and she supported the hospital.

 My grandaunt had four children. All of them became medical doctors. I heard my grandaunt planned to run a general hospital with her children. Unfortunately, the children works in different hospitals in different regions now. Just like how my grandaunt didn’t grow up as my great-grandparents wished, her children also didn’t grow up like she wished.

 I just dream too. If my grandaunt’s dreams had come true, then I could also work in a general hospital as a hospital clown.

Picture by akaishi

 

Hiding the Teacher’s Tears

 

 When I was a junior high school student, I was a member of the broadcasting club. Our main activities were broadcasting music and stories during lunchtime. Moreover, when our school had events, we prepared and took care of sound facilities.

 Ms. H was a musical teacher in our school, but she was once a professional classical singer. I heard she studied vocal music in Italy.

 One day, Ms. H produced an event. Every student in our school had soprano and alto recorders for music classes. She proposed we all play one tune in the gym at the same time. The tune was one of the most popular at that time—“Silk Road” composed by Kitaro. Ms. H taught how to play the composition in musical class. Sometimes she taught individually. Finally, she made all the students play “Silk Road.”

 At the day of the event, I didn’t take part in the performance because I was a member of the broadcasting club. One of the members had to take care of sound facilities in broadcasting room. That one was me.

 After the performance, someone rushed in the broadcasting room. It was Ms. H. She started to cry. I was surprised. But I hid myself because I thought I should not watch an adult who was crying. I remained hidden until Ms. H stopped crying, and I went out the broadcasting room. I didn’t tell this incident to anyone. At least I understood Ms. H wanted to hide her tears from her students.

 Now, I am the same age as Ms. H at that time. Lately I understood vaguely why she was crying.

 A musical teacher in a local junior high school where I commuted could not be in her position. She studied music in Italy. She might have aspired to be a successful and profitable singer. But if her dream came true, she would not be able to teach the junior high school students individually. She would not be able to listen to the group performance in the gym.

 In those days, there were hundreds of students in our school. That was before the birth rate decline. The masses of students playing “Silk Road” must be a spectacle.

 Ms. H also taught songs to a chorus club in the school. Our school became famous because the chorus club won many contests. Sometimes the chorus club sang songs in Latin.

 Now, I live a life which I didn’t dream of when I was young, but I enjoy my life. Sometimes happy events happen unexpectedly.

 In movies, we always watch dream-come-true stories, but a normal life could also be dramatic.

Picture by mr jun