Learning from Experiences K. H. Doshisha International Jr/Sr High School, Kyoto, Japan

Adapting yourself in complete new circumstances is hard enough, but when you gained hopeless impression or could not feel any warm welcoming at the very beginning, it becomes more difficult for you to enjoy your new life. This is my story of failing in adjusting myself in a brand new world. Have you ever felt like a poor stray sheep looking for a way out from the thick woods? More you struggle to find your way more panicky you'll be and never reach to a goal. Well, that was what I felt when I was facing to Mr. Evans in his chemistry laboratory with 25 pairs of curious eyes starring at me. This happened in September 1994, the year I moved into a small town in Wales, Britain. It was my first day of attending to a junior high school in the town. I was not excited at all about going to school as I knew no one except my sister in school. In fact, the day had begun dreadfully, worse than what I had imagined the night before. "What's your name and address?" That was what Mr. Evans was saying to me in his lab. He had his register book open in front of him and was gazing at me from his chair. You may well imagine how I was nervous when I murmured, "my name is K. H.," the one of a few phrases that I was able to say in English, because there was complete silence in the lab and I could feel beams from 25 pairs of students' eyes which pierced my whole body and made me to fidget unconsciously and my cheeks to blush. It was so quiet, as if even a picture of a skeleton and alphabets on a poster of periodical tables on the wall were listening to my shattered voice.

"What? Pardon me?" Mr. Evans said so seriously, his voice sounded harsh and there seems to be no trace of warmth. I repeated myself but he did not understand it again. My mind was blank but when I saw Mr. Evans' goggle eyes I became more anxious. I later became to be aware that he looked exactly like a comedian who acts the role of Mr. Bean on T.V. In fact, he was a kind teacher who took a very good care of students. However, to me, at that moment he seemed like a mean wizard who was trying to cast a spell on me with his huge glaring eyes. Thankfully, the bell rang and Mr. Evans had to dismiss the class. The chemistry laboratory was our tutor room as he was our tutor and was a chemistry teacher. So, when everyone started to leave the room I didn't understand where they were going, because in Japan I took every lesson in my tutor room. I fetched my bag in a hurry and tried to follow others. I heard Mr. Evans sigh and slum his register book behind me. When I dashed out of the lab I realised that I could not identify anyone in my class. Everyone looked like aliens to me, with their bright colour of hair and eyes and pinkish white skin. Also they were wearing uniforms, white shirts with red ties and gray pleated skirts for girls and black trousers for boys. I felt hot in my stomach and cold in my spine from worry. It was only before noon and I was already finding myself lost in this unknown space. I did not have courage to ask anyone for help. I was occupied by my self-respect that I could not bear showing any of my weakness. 'What have I done wrong?' I was thinking as I wondered around school. 'Why do I deserve this cruelty? My father promised me that there would be someone to take care of me! Liar!' Then, suddenly, someone grabbed my arm, which made my breath halt. It was a middle-aged woman with gray short hair and sparkling blue eyes. She looked at me and said something. She surely looked relieved to find me. However, when she dragged me into a classroom, which was one of the rooms in English department, I froze in fear and embarrassment. There, all my classmates were sitting in groups by tables. They looked at my direction and all conversation stopped. I felt sick to see other students' faces because I thought they were like an audience waiting for a clown to make fun of itself. My heart started to beat faster and I could not breath normally. There were two men teachers in the room, one teacher was there to teach the rest of the class, and the other teacher was there to teach me. This idea of allowing me to have my own English teacher might sound wonderful, but to me at that moment it was just another torment that I had to suffer. The man was in his 50s and was chubby and very hairy; his cheeks were almost a colour of blue from shaved beard. I wasn't used to being near any British man yet so the thought of sitting close to him on my own was unpleasant and uncomfortable enough but to make things worse he was sitting by one of the table just in front of the blackboard. I could not see any reason why he had chosen to sit there but to make me more embarrassed.

The whole class seemed to be listening to the other teacher but I realised that their attention was on us. I hated being in the centre of the attention, rather cool, unfriendly attention and full of curiosity. I hunched my back as if to hide myself. I wished I could vanish or melt away like a snail which was sprinkled a pinch of salt. Hot tears swelled up in my eyes when he was showing me a picture of a family tree, saying, "Father, motherc" in a loud voice. My self-confidence was already stamped down but to keep my pride and dignity I didn't let my tears drop. I pinched my thigh so hard on more than a few spots under the table, which red marks remained for several days. It was a vain attempt however, and soon my vision blurred and my lips shivered. I didn't know whether the man realised it or not but he continued to do his job. I do not remember how I managed to get through other lessons but it was the lunch break when I, again, was in panic. "Can I go with you?" I said to a group of girls in the corridor near the dining hall. From their showy bags, I was able to tell those girls were in my class. I practiced this phrase with my sister the night before. She told me to say this whenever I was in trouble then people would help me. "Sure, come on", a girl said smiling but with wandering eyes. I followed them hesitatingly into the dining hall, but I was desperate to turn around and run back home. 'I am making a fool of myself here!' I was thinking. The girls were chatting together, turning their backs to me as we queued for take-away food. When it was our turn to order, I started practising the phrase "can I have chips please?" in my head. To think about it now, it was an appalling challenge to do everything perfectly. It was my silly pride that I did not want to degrade myself by acting helplessly. When I successfully bought a bag of chips, I looked around and found that girls were gone. I thought they went out side but they were not by the door. It took me a while to realise that they had disappeared and left me alone in the dining hall. I am sure that my face was expressionless, but inside sickening feeling of humiliation was growing larger and larger, it pressed my heart intensely. It was so miserable to admit that people were so much desperate to avoid my company. I was certainly out of the place and my existence was seemed to be nothing but an obstruction to everyone in the world. I felt as if I was a useless Christmas present. You receive it with gratitude but find it absolutely useless so you rather put it somewhere and forget that you had it. With tottering steps I drifted away outside. A bag of chips seemed like a hot steel and when I took out a chip and bit it, the greasy taste of potato spread in my mouth and the pungent smell stimulated my nostrils. I soon felt sick and full. From faraway, I heard other students' laughter. I remember gazing at the clear green colour of grass blankly, which reflected brightly onto my white shirt.

Until that day, no one had ever ignored my presence but gathered around me to become my friends. I had no trouble with communication and I was regarded as a funny and enjoyable girl to spend time with. However, after several weeks of being humiliated (or feeling humiliation) I changed into a shy, quiet girl who smiles and shows her expression on her face only sometimes. I am sure that you are thinking that I ought to have been friendlier and removed my entire armour, which I wore so tightly so people cannot see my true self who was helpless and insecure. I agree to you completely, but then, I was nervous and not brave enough to do that. I was hurt and neglected in many ways and was struggling to protect its most fragile dignity by shut itself from outside world. My failures on amending my haughty behaviour disturbed me from making friends and enjoy my school life. Also, some painful and miserable experiences I had in school became my traumatic memories, and still they scratch my old scars sometimes. Now, almost 4 years had passed since those harsh days in school. When I look back again, I realise the mistakes I made. Even how I felt worried or a situation that I was put into was against me, I shouldn't have turned away and cowered myself before the brand new situation. If I were able to make my first step more positively, then I think the forward-looking approach would have eventually cleared my way and had guided me into satisfaction. It required me greater efforts and strength to claw up from the distressful condition, which indeed is something I can be proud of, but I cannot help wondering what kind of life I could have led if I had a little courage to open up my heart. Hattori, Keiko (2000). Learning from Experiences. Retrieved January 5, 2001, from the Doshisha International Jr/Sr High School web site: http://www.intnl.doshisha.ac.jp/projects/3sa/2000/memoir/sa2/d6-keiko.html

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