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A couple of years ago, I had the privilege of being an exchange
student to Japan. After months of preparing for
life in a foreign country, our local Rotary Club told us
teenagers, bound for different destinations around the world, to each write a letter to
ourselves that we would open and read again a year later upon returning home.
I iterated how impressed I was with the level of fluency with which future me could
speak Japanese. And with this goal in mind, I embarked on my journey
confident that I would be able to overcome all challenges with hard work and perseverance.
Finally being in Japan was unlike anything
I had known before. I was awestruck by my surroundings.
The architecture. The people. The food. Even the plants. Ancient and modern,
nature and technology, were all jumbled together. Yet they all fit
perfectly somehow. As amazing as it was,
I struggled more than I ever thought I would. This new place
was so exciting. Almost perfect. But I was wrong.
I didn't fit. I grew frustrated and confused as I realized
how much of who I thought I was had been lost in translation.
I had considered myself outgoing, talkative.
Independent, smart, and excessively polite. But in a foreign
culture, these notions were contradicted daily.
I found myself alone as my classmates talked between periods with friends they had
grown up with. When people would talk with me, my capabilities
rather limited the topic of conversation to favorite colors. Hobbies.
And number of siblings. Being independent soon proved to be
unrealistic when I walked into the wrong changing room.
And another time, almost dangerous: 3 hours
into being lost when I couldn't even find where I lived. After a few months,
I realized that I hardly spoke. I spent hours every day
filling in notebook after notebook with vocab cards copied over and over.
But I had hardly improved.
I finally decided to stop trying to be perfect.
I hadn't come halfway around the world just to study by myself in my room.
I focused on truly immersing myself. I opened
up and took on a new perspective. When I couldn't understand someone, I no longer felt
defeated. I learned to apologize and lead the conversation
towards topics I was able to understand. Learning to accept
my weaknesses and depend on others made a dramatic difference.
By not letting my fear of failure hold me back anymore, my Japanese
improved by leaps and bounds. As I stepped out of my comfort zone,
I found that people wanted to talk with me.
As my year was coming to a close, I was still making mistakes. And still discovering
ways I had unwittingly been insulting people the entire time.
It was still embarrassing, but I used those times
as opportunities to discuss cultural differences and to explain that I wasn't, in fact, trying to be rude.
On my way home, I realized I had
ironically become more independent. My abilities
had improved to the point where I don't really find my way through Tokyo hotels and airports easily,
but I was even able to help out flustered tourists who couldn't read the Japanese signs
and were lost. But moreover, I had a new confidence in myself.
I feel so grateful to my Japanese counselor
When she saw that I was struggling, she told me,
"Don't push yourself too hard." At first, I thought she was wrong.
No, I need to push myself harder. But, looking back,
I understand what she meant. Now, if I find myself running in circles,
I step back and tell myself "Don't push yourself too hard" and I
am able to truly be my best. Thank you.