ut there are four seasons in America too, Masahiro.” Marvin fought the urge to pound his head on the table. Several weeks had passed since Terry’s lecture. His sole student in his last class before break, Masahiro Matsuoka, had recently retired from his company after nearly sixty years on the job. Pushing eighty, he was still full of energy, and had decided that English lessons at STAR were an ideal way to spend a significant chunk of his suddenly increased free time, and had been coming in for lessons nearly every day for the past month. A staunch patriot, he was now trying to convey to Marvin the uniqueness of Japan, something, in fact, he had been doing the entire lesson. With about ten minutes remaining, the Level D student had latched on to the idea that Japan was the only country in the world that could possibly have four distinct seasons. Marvin was doing his best to show him otherwise. “Think about it,” he said to the elderly man. “Spring, summer, fall and winter. That’s four. Why would we have four names if we didn’t have four seasons?” You stupid old fool.
“But the Japan seasons are special,” Matsuoka insisted. “They can be only in Japan.”
“You know, I keep hearing this from other students too. Ok, so tell me. How are the seasons in Japan so special?” Matsuoka’s eyes lit up. Oh, crap. Too late, Marvin realized his mistake in inviting the man to explain his thoughts.
“It is very happy you have interest,” Matsuoka started. “First, spring is cool weather. It is very refresh. We can see many beautiful flowers, like cherry blossoms. Do you know Japanese cherry blossoms?”
“Look, we can see flowers in America too during spring,” Marvin countered. “Haven’t you ever heard, ‘April showers bring May flowers’?” From the look on the man’s face, the answer was obviously no, and even if he had, it was apparent he wasn’t about to let that interrupt his ode to Japan’s spring or the cherry blossoms the season brought with it.
“Cherry blossoms have special meaning to we Japanese. America has cherry blossoms too. In Washington, it is gift from Japan, and they are very popular to many Americans. You love Japanese cherry blossoms. But they are more important meaning to Japanese.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever—” Marvin started to respond, but Matsuoka had by now decided to move on to summer.
“Summer is very hot in Japan. Many Japanese like to eat kakigōri. Do you know kakigōri? It is little ice with many juice.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Nor do I want to know.
It was obviously of great importance to Matsuoka that Marvin be able to comprehend kakigōri. Finally, after repeated attempts to describe the dish, and a good deal of hand-gesturing, Marvin came to understand that the culinary treat Matsuoka was describing was shaved ice with syrup added to it.
It’s a fucking snowcone. Marvin looked at his watch, willing the minute and second hands to speed up. “We have that in America too,” he informed his student.
Matsuoka shook his head. “No. Only Japan.”
Marvin rubbed his forehead. Ok, only two more seasons to go. “All right, then. Tell me about fall.”
“Do you say fall? I think Americans always say autumn.”
“We say both.”
“No, I learn that Americans say autumn. Maybe you are different than many Americans.”
“Look, you’re wrong. You’re wrong, wrong, wrong. Anyway, go on about fall. Let’s get this over with.”
“In fall, we can enjoy beautiful turning colors on trees. It is very, uh, very . . .” With a frown, he muttered to himself, “sabishii wa nantoiu, eigode?” Looking at Marvin, he said, “Wait.” He quickly consulted his electronic dictionary he seemingly always carried with him (the beeping of which drove Marvin further to the edge). After a few moments, he found the word he was looking for. “It is very lonely.”
“Lonely?”
“Yes, lonely. It is lonely.”
“How can leaves be lonely?”
The old man smiled. “You do not understand. It is only Japanese can understand lonely feeling when leaves change colors.”
“All right, Masahiro. What about winter?”
“In winter, there is much snow in Hokkaido. You can play ski.”
“There’s snow in America too, Masahiro.” Marvin wondered how Matsuoka would counter.
“Japanese snow is special. We have powder snow. It is best kind for skiing.”
Marvin made one last effort. “Masahiro, everything you said about the four seasons in Japan, I could say about America. We really do have four seasons too. Really.”
“No. It is different in Japan.”
“No, it’s not different, you senile old goat!” Realizing what he’d said, Marvin gasped and covered his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that; it had just slipped out. He looked at the elderly man fearfully, holding his breath, trying to read the expression in his face. Please, please don’t make a scene.
Matsuoka stared at him quietly for a moment. Then he said, looking puzzled, “No, I don’t see old goat. Why do you talk about that? It is not about season.”
Marvin let out his breath. The old man hadn’t understood! Oh, thank God! But wait. If the students didn’t really understand what he was saying, did this mean he had free reign to insult them to his heart’s desire? This could be useful information.
“But Japanese goats are very strong,” Matsuoka interrupted Marvin’s musings.
The chimes rang at that moment, and Marvin was spared more observations about the uniqueness of Japan’s seasons and its goats. As he rose to leave, however, Matsuoka clasped his hands in his own, in a grip surprisingly strong for someone of his age. “Please enjoy your stay in our beautiful country,” he said.
Marvin looked at the man in disgust. “I’ve been here three months and it’s not happening yet. Fat chance of it happening now.”
“Fat?” Matsuoka looked at him. “No, you are not so fat. But maybe you gain weight. I think it is you must like Japanese beer.”
“Yeah, I could use one right this instant.” Marvin pried his hands from Matsuoka’s, and hurried back to the teachers’ room.
“You’re looking a little red there,” Michael said to him as Marvin returned his file to the shelves. “Just had a bad one?”
“The worst one possible.” His relief at have gotten away with his comment to Matsuoka gave way to anger as he remembered the reason he had said it in the first place. “Since he retired, Matsuoka is here every fucking day. Isn’t there somewhere else he can go to run out the clock?”
“You mean Masahiro? He’s nice.”
Marvin looked at Michael incredulously. “Nice? I just had to listen to him talk about how unique Japan is for an entire period! And he’s not the only one. All the students do is talk about Japan. What do we have to do to convince them that this country is not any more unique than anywhere else? I just want to shoot them sometimes.”
Brett, who was also in the teachers’ room, spoke up. “It can be frustrating, but listen to yourself. Shoot them? Don’t you think you’re getting a little bit too worked up about this? He’s an old man who just happens to be extremely fond of Japan. He’s no different from people in every country in the world who perhaps love their country to excess. Your own country certainly has no lack of those who claim to bleed red, white, and blue.”
“Yeah, well this is different. And like I said, it’s not just Matsuoka. It’s everybody here. Nobody else goes on about how special their country is as much as the Japanese.”
“Nobody else? What you’re saying then, is that Japan is unique after all.” Brett smiled, and several of the other teachers laughed.
“That’s not what I meant. What I’m trying to say is that—Oh, fuck you, Brett.”
Brett continued smiling. “Convincing argument.”
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