I was reminded of this story the other day while I was struggling to score my fifth graders' writing assessments. One girl wrote a very good story-she's a good little writer! Her story reminded me of something that happened to me once, and I shared it yesterday with my class. It's one of my favorite stories.
I was 15 and learning to drive. I don't remember Dad taking me out to drive too frequently; most of my driving happened during Driver's Ed. Dad made me nervous, and he wasn't the most patient of instructors when it came to his daughters and his car.
But on this day, he decided to let me drive to the town of Snohomish. To get there from our house, you crossed 132nd, and drove down a windy, steep hill into the Snohomish Flats. You then drove through the Flats to a stop light. Now, it is a major intersection, but in those days, it was a stop for cars going in my direction, but not a stop for the cars going on the highway. Therefore, I had to stop and watch for the break in traffic to cross the highway and continue on into Snohimish. The traffic on the highway traveled at high speeds, too, so it really was a dangerous spot.
We got to the light and stopped. I was watching traffic to my left and right, waiting for a break. So was Dad. In fact, as he saw a break in the traffic coming up, he said, "Ok. Get ready...get set...GO!"
I stomped on the gas pedal. My tires squealed and spun as I sped out of there. Dad clung to the seat. I'm sure he uttered some curse words as he yelled at me, "What do you think you're doing?"
I just smiled sweetly. "Dad," I said. "When you said ready, set, go, I assumed it was a race, and I wanted to win!"
I don't recall getting into trouble. I don't believe I did. Maybe at 15 I was able to score a point. But I never liked driving anywhere with Dad in the car.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Egg On My Face (And The Floor)
I wrote this story the other day in my class when I was having my students write about something that happened to them that they were reminded of when they thought of a particular place. I used my trip I took to Japan and Okinawa as an example, because many things happened on that trip. This is one of them:
"My flight had just arrived to Okinawa, and I got off the plane. The airplane I had ridden in to Japan was the largest plane I had ever been in-I remember wondering if it would even be able to get off the ground! Luckily it did, and after a 15 hour flight, I arrived in Okinawa. I had sat for so long that my feet felt like lead, but they still worked, so I got off the plane and went through customs. When I left customs, Colonel Graham, a long-time friend of my dad’s, was waiting for me on the other side of the gate. He took my picture as I came through the gate so that I could always remember my first few steps onto Japanese soil. I felt like a celebrity!
Our first task was to go to eat dinner somewhere. After a 15 hour flight, I was starved! I had wondered what kind of food was in store for me. We went to a small, local restaurant for dinner. Even though I certainly couldn’t read the menu with the Japanese characters, the menu had a picture of each dish offered, so I ordered what looked delicious to me. That happened to be a bowl of sukiyaki, which is a dish with meat and vegetables in a broth served in a bowl. It looked wonderful, and my stomach growled as my mouth watered just thinking about it.
After a bit of waiting, my food arrived. The waitress set my food down in front of me. Interestingly enough, there was this complete egg on the plate next to my bowl of sukiyaki. I asked Colonel Graham why an egg came with my dinner. He explained to me that it was the traditional Okinawan way to eat your food. The idea was to crack the raw egg, and let it sit on top of your hot food. The heat from the food would cook the egg, and then you could mix the cooked egg into your meal. He sort of discouraged me from trying it, as you can get sick from a raw egg. But, this trip was all about new experiences for me, so I decided to try the raw egg.
I picked up the egg, and lightly tapped it against my bowl. Nothing happened. I took the egg, and tapped it against my bowl again. Still, nothing happened. I tapped it a bit harder against the bowl. It still would not break. The chickens in Okinawa lay strong eggs, I thought.
This time I took the egg and hit it really hard against the edge of my sukiyaki bowl. I was not shy this time, or timid. I hit it hard. I wanted that thing to crack so that I could enjoy my meal. I was so hungry, and this egg was making me wait even longer to eat my meal that smelled so heavenly in front of me.
This time I was successful. The egg did break. But it’s funny about eggs-you can’t really control where they go. The shell broke, and the slimy egg slid out and ran out of the egg, and down the outside of the bowl. It continued to slide, letting gravity pull it downward. It was almost alive with the goal of getting away from my food. It slid down the side of the bowl and onto the table top. Still it continued to travel downward. It slid to the edge of the table, and down it went. Right onto the floor in a slimy, glumpy, shimmering mess.
I sat there in a stunned silence. Then I became so embarrassed as I realized what had happened. Colonel Graham began to laugh and laugh, which really made me feel even more embarrassed! I did wish I could just slide down and stay under that table, just like my egg. But I couldn’t. I realized just then that no one else in the whole restaurant was looking at me. Even the waitress did not rush over to clean up the mess, like they would in America. It dawned on me that this was a culture that doesn’t want anyone to be embarrassed. This was a culture that believed in showing respect to others. If the waitress had rushed over to clean up my egg, I would have had to apologize for my clumsiness, and my embarrassment would have increased. But since no one looked at me, I could almost pretend it didn’t happen."
This story is only lacking in a concluding sentence. Let's just say that when we got back to Col. Graham's house, and we related the story to his wife, who translated it to her Japanese mother, the idea of not laughing at someone to cause them embarrassment completely flew out the window. Yoshiko's mom laughed the hardest! So much for saving face!
"My flight had just arrived to Okinawa, and I got off the plane. The airplane I had ridden in to Japan was the largest plane I had ever been in-I remember wondering if it would even be able to get off the ground! Luckily it did, and after a 15 hour flight, I arrived in Okinawa. I had sat for so long that my feet felt like lead, but they still worked, so I got off the plane and went through customs. When I left customs, Colonel Graham, a long-time friend of my dad’s, was waiting for me on the other side of the gate. He took my picture as I came through the gate so that I could always remember my first few steps onto Japanese soil. I felt like a celebrity!
Our first task was to go to eat dinner somewhere. After a 15 hour flight, I was starved! I had wondered what kind of food was in store for me. We went to a small, local restaurant for dinner. Even though I certainly couldn’t read the menu with the Japanese characters, the menu had a picture of each dish offered, so I ordered what looked delicious to me. That happened to be a bowl of sukiyaki, which is a dish with meat and vegetables in a broth served in a bowl. It looked wonderful, and my stomach growled as my mouth watered just thinking about it.
After a bit of waiting, my food arrived. The waitress set my food down in front of me. Interestingly enough, there was this complete egg on the plate next to my bowl of sukiyaki. I asked Colonel Graham why an egg came with my dinner. He explained to me that it was the traditional Okinawan way to eat your food. The idea was to crack the raw egg, and let it sit on top of your hot food. The heat from the food would cook the egg, and then you could mix the cooked egg into your meal. He sort of discouraged me from trying it, as you can get sick from a raw egg. But, this trip was all about new experiences for me, so I decided to try the raw egg.
I picked up the egg, and lightly tapped it against my bowl. Nothing happened. I took the egg, and tapped it against my bowl again. Still, nothing happened. I tapped it a bit harder against the bowl. It still would not break. The chickens in Okinawa lay strong eggs, I thought.
This time I took the egg and hit it really hard against the edge of my sukiyaki bowl. I was not shy this time, or timid. I hit it hard. I wanted that thing to crack so that I could enjoy my meal. I was so hungry, and this egg was making me wait even longer to eat my meal that smelled so heavenly in front of me.
This time I was successful. The egg did break. But it’s funny about eggs-you can’t really control where they go. The shell broke, and the slimy egg slid out and ran out of the egg, and down the outside of the bowl. It continued to slide, letting gravity pull it downward. It was almost alive with the goal of getting away from my food. It slid down the side of the bowl and onto the table top. Still it continued to travel downward. It slid to the edge of the table, and down it went. Right onto the floor in a slimy, glumpy, shimmering mess.
I sat there in a stunned silence. Then I became so embarrassed as I realized what had happened. Colonel Graham began to laugh and laugh, which really made me feel even more embarrassed! I did wish I could just slide down and stay under that table, just like my egg. But I couldn’t. I realized just then that no one else in the whole restaurant was looking at me. Even the waitress did not rush over to clean up the mess, like they would in America. It dawned on me that this was a culture that doesn’t want anyone to be embarrassed. This was a culture that believed in showing respect to others. If the waitress had rushed over to clean up my egg, I would have had to apologize for my clumsiness, and my embarrassment would have increased. But since no one looked at me, I could almost pretend it didn’t happen."
This story is only lacking in a concluding sentence. Let's just say that when we got back to Col. Graham's house, and we related the story to his wife, who translated it to her Japanese mother, the idea of not laughing at someone to cause them embarrassment completely flew out the window. Yoshiko's mom laughed the hardest! So much for saving face!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)