I passed the top level of the Japanese Language Proficiency Exam last winter. It felt good to have twenty years of intentional immersion in Japan validated in this way.\u00a0 The test, under the auspices of the Ministry of Education, is highly structured and authentically Japanese in its administration.\u00a0 Formally dressed proctors recited rules covering everything from the size of erasers and the number of pencils allowed on the desk to how many times we would be allowed to cough before we were expelled from the test. Intended to assess general linguistic competence needed to function in Japanese society, until a few years ago it was a requirement for foreigners wishing to enter Japanese universities. Of course, passing it doesn\u2019t mean my Japanese is perfect.\u00a0 Some aspects are still startlingly weak. Recently I had one of the most humiliating language experiences in memory which I share to keep myself honest.<\/p>\n
My husband and I needed to open a local bank account which would connect with a credit card. Tim usually takes care of banking because I dislike numbers and details, but we needed it in my name, so I went. I hummed as I rode my bicycle downtown, feeling pleased to have so many time consuming details related to our move to Tokyo accomplished.\u00a0 We\u2019d registered our new address at the city office, renewed drivers\u2019 licenses, bought cell phones, formally greeted our new neighbors with gifts, started the kids at their new school, rented a truck and hauled all our possessions out of storage. It felt really good to be back \u201chome\u201d in Japan and I chuckled to myself about how easy this transition was.<\/p>\n
The first question put to me at the bank startled me- What did I intend to use this account for? As an American, that felt like a rather private question to be asked\u00a0 while still standing in the lobby. Fighting back an urge to say something sarcastic about money laundering, instead I replied it was for ordinary day-to-day household expenses. Then came the forms to fill out, and my earlier happy mood began to slip away. I could read the forms well enough, but almost every line needed some information I hadn\u2019t brought with me or wasn\u2019t sure how to answer.\u00a0 What was<\/strong><\/em> the complete address and phone number of the university where I worked part time? In my work as a missionary, what was the address of my employer? Was it our home office in Chicago (which was moving to a new location that week)? Was it the local church we worked with most closely? (Coincidentally, they were also moving.) Was it the Japanese denominational office? (They weren\u2019t moving, but of course I didn\u2019t have that address with me.) I asked if it would be possible to take the forms home with me, but the clerk insisted I needed to fill them out there.\u00a0 I began to make calls to gather the needed information.<\/p>\n Two hours later all the required blanks on all the pages were filled, but the clerk tactfully suggested I should rewrite the forms since there were some crossed out characters and corrections. Who knows what my problem was- maybe hunger, maybe simple carelessness.\u00a0 One time, two times, three times\u2026like a jinx, I made mistakes on characters I\u2019d written correctly ten minutes before. The clerk audibly sucked in her breath, and her anxiety broke through the usual mask of politeness.\u00a0 Each time my palms became sweatier, my muscles tenser,\u00a0 and my head cloudier.\u00a0 After each error, out came the ruler, the red ink pen to draw one straight horizontal line through the mistake, and our official family seal to be stamped on each layer of carbon paper on top of each mistake. At one point I fought back tears as a wave of shame and embarrassment swept over me. Two hours to open a bank account? What adult in Japan besides me would have been so stupid as to come without bringing employer addresses? Why had I been so cocky as to assume I could fill it out easily? Due to carelessness and haste, I was wasting not only my own time but also the clerk\u2019s time. By now she had probably missed her lunch and would likely receive a scolding from her supervisor for having accomplished so little during her workday\u2026 Finally, the forms were finished, and I left, shaken.<\/p>\n I\u2019m a large person here in Japan. At 5\u20198\u201d, I\u2019m as tall as most men, taller if I wear heels. Yet I felt small and despicable. My cheeks burned and my pulse raced as I pumped the toxic emotions into sweat biking home.\u00a0 Perhaps the reason I\u2019ve learned so much, and can function here is because I try to fit in, to do what is expected of me. I\u2019m eager to show myself competent and able to pull my own weight. I don\u2019t want to ask people to fill in forms for me, and hate feeling and acting like a dumb foreigner. But the flip side of this is that I sometimes wrongly assess my abilities, and when things go poorly, I can spend hours, days, even weeks practically paralyzed because I worry that what I\u2019m doing isn\u2019t good enough. A strange perfectionism sets in, and I lose my freedom and get really small. So big and yet so small- that is one of the paradoxes of living as an outsider here.<\/p>\n Would it have been better to just say I couldn\u2019t write Japanese and ask to fill it out in English? My handwriting would certainly have been neater, which is very important in Japanese society. Would it have been better to look over every question carefully before I started writing, make a list of all the info I would need, go home to collect it, and then return another day? Probably so, but as an American raised to value content over form, and time efficiency over most other things, it never crossed my mind.\u00a0 I\u2019m still mulling it over because it\u2019s not a dead question. I just got my cash card in the mail, along with a polite letter of rejection from the credit card company. It depends on the day, but sometimes I can hardly bear to think about filling out forms again, and other times (especially after a power breakfast and a glance at the new addresses in my address book) it seems really doable.<\/p>\n