Curiosity

For some reason, there's something about seeing me whizzing by on my bike after school that drives Japanese elementary students wild. They're standing by the street with their friends, they turn, see me coming, and suddenly they're hopping up and down, waving their hands over their heads, and shouting, "Meghan Sensei! Meghan Sensei! Haro! Haro!" I won't pretend it's not a nice confidence booster for me. I wave back enthusiastically, shoot them a smile, and return their salutation, adding "Goodbye!" as I speed past.

But the other afternoon, as occasionally happens, a group of about six kids were standing in the middle of the sidewalk and I was obliged to slow down for them. Seizing the opportunity, they immediately began to drill me with questions in rapid-fire Japanese:

"Are you going home now?"

"Yes."

"To America?"

"No, I live in Japan."

"Really?! Where in Japan?"

"In Moka."

"Eh?!...no way."

"Yes, I live in Moka."

"Where in Moka?"

"In Namiki-cho. Do you know where that is?"

"...No. Do you understand Japanese? (asked, as have been all preceding questions, in Japanese)"

"Yes."

"Can you read hiragana [phonetic Japanese writing system used mostly to write the grammatical parts of sentences]?"

"Yes."

"Can you read kanji [Chinese characters]?"

"A little."

"Amazing. Are you married?"

"No."

"How old are you?"

"What do you think?"

"Fifty."

"Fifty?!" They all burst into hysterics.

"Do you like Japanese food?"

"Yes."

"Do you drive?"

"Not in Japan."

"Do you $#!*?"

"Um...what?"

"Do you $#!*?" The child who used the word I didn't know began to elaborately act out his meaning. My mind made the linguistic connection and it quickly became clear what he was trying to ask me:

"Do you poop?"

I was a bit taken aback; I had to answer him in English, "You're crazy."

He stared back in confusion. "Eh?"

"Crazy," I repeated. "Bye-bye."

So concludes another successful lesson on American culture.