For two weeks now, every Tuesday, I would wake up at 8 A.M. and take a quick breakfast, which usually consists of the previous night’s leftovers or a piece of sweet bread and cold lemon tea. Afterwards, I would enjoy my thirty-five-minute warm shower and by the time I finish, I would then have barely enough time to catch the 9:49 train for Demachiyanagi, where I would get off and hurriedly switch, after buying a pack of cigarettes from one of the vending machines, to the 10 o’clock express train heading for Tambabashi.
Seven minutes on foot from Tambabashi station is the Fushimi Youth Action Center, where in one of the conference rooms on the second floor, my four lovely obaasans would patiently wait in their respective seats, chatting in hushed, excited murmurs. Upon my arrival, we would exchange pleasantries and sometimes talk idly about the weather. Then at exactly 10:30, we would get down to business – our one-and-a-half-hour English class would officially begin.
When Hideo, a half-Japanese, half-Swiss friend, was talking about this arubaito that he was passing on to me, he particularly warned me about the obaasans. They’re not beginners anymore. Instead of the usual grammar and sentence construction lessons, Hideo advised me to bring to class newspaper articles for group discussion and analysis.
Indeed, my obaasans are way beyond your usual "Noh, noh… noh Ingrish" obaasans. Meg, who studies English to relearn long-forgotten expressions, speaks with almost impeccable grammar. She has lived in Belgium for four years and having been unable to speak French, she would converse in English to neighbors and non-Japanese friends throughout her stay, which explains her considerable fluency and distinct pronunciation. Plump and jolly Iku, on the other hand, attends the class "to keep my brain active and stimulated." For quiet yet genial Anne, who likes to be called after the main character of her favorite novel, Anne of Green Gables, little English expressions she picks from class usually come in handy whenever she’s playing host to her husband’s business partners from abroad. The fourth obaasan, whose name escapes me, is currently enjoying her holiday in Switzerland. She skipped this week’s class but promised to be back for the next one.
One thing I like about my obaasans, they don’t easily give up. Meg, for example, though fluent, is given to taking her time in choosing the right words and always trying to come up with grammatically correct sentences. Whenever Iku comes across a difficult expression, she would never let it go until a sufficient explanation has been given. When asked, Anne’s voice would sometimes trail off in the middle of her reply and just when I would begin to finish her sentence for her, she would start all over again and make her own revisions.
Sometimes I wonder where these obaasans get all their energy and motivation. What factors drive them to excel in something that many would shrug off as merely a pastime? Are there reasons beyond supposed sentimental recollection and so-called brain stimulation? Or is it just that as we get older, we tend to take things in earnest, trivial as they may seem?
Ordinary Thoughts of an Extraordinary Mind 