Tonight was my first lesson with Aoyagi Sensei. I say lesson- what actually transpired was a crisp ironing-out of details and setting of rules. Aoyagi Sensei means business. I pressed the buzzer of the Yaponica Nihongo Academy, a two storey building that still somehow conspires to look like a tall portacabin, and heard a loud ‘Dozo!’ but no-one came to the door. Poor Aoyagi Sensei showed me a picture of the metal rod that now occupies her hip, and she spent the twenty minutes hobbling about between the table and the photocopier with a walking stick and without much haste.
There was an application form. There was an application fee too, but that’s been deferred until I make up my mind. Not much in the way of where froms, who bys, what nows. All that was taken care of by the form. Well, most of it. And when the end came I wasn’t really sure it was the end- thinking I’d come for a taster lesson. When what I got was a break-down of the rules and a pile of homework. Just like school.
Things used to be different. My mate Max has been yapping on about how great Ishikawa Sensei is for months so when my first teacher got sick and couldn’t tutor me anymore, I got in touch and had a couple of lessons with her. And it was great. It was in her house, in a room next to the kitchen filled with African art-work (she travels). Near the end of the lesson her husband would move from the living room through to the kitchen and start producing wonderful smells as dinner was prepared.
They were both young, hip, fun.
But now Ishikawa Sensei has moved to Singapore.
My first teacher, Suzuki Sensei, I stuck with for a long time. She was just like me- she was teaching her own language and, apparently, had no schooling in doing so. She made it up as she went along, did it on the fly, took me through the textbook and chatted lots. That’s why I liked her.
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