He sits in the back of the class that Japanese boy. He doesn’t know any English. Why does he come here; if he can’t understand? He has friends that speak Japanese, and they try to translate some things to him. His name is Richard. I just learned it today. We were assigned to be partners for our science experiments. He didn’t say much. I wonder if he understood what we were doing. Though I did most of the work, I tried to let him help. When he finally spoke to me, he told me that his favorite part of the experiment was the bright colors. I smiled and nodded. I was happy he tried to speak to me even though his English is broken. Sometimes when I sit behind him, I wonder what he hears and sees. To not be able to speak English and go to an American school must be straining. We speak to fast for him and it’s hard for him to understand our teachers. The teachers try to help by working with him one on one. Then they get frustrated when he doesn’t reply. It is not his fault he can’t understand. Our language is foreign to him. I ask myself question that I’ll probably never know the answer to. Do I look weird to him, the he does to me? Do the words I speak sound like gibberish, too? I can’t read his mind and like I said before, I’ll probably never know what goes on in the head. Of that Japanese boy.
That Japanese Boy
February 25, 2011