Though over a third of the international trainees are from Japan, only one is in my class. Her name is Mao. I admire her because she she always seems happy and willing to work, though she is facing far more linguistic isolation than myself or the two other international students in my class.
The three of us (myself and the two other international trainees) all speak English as either a first or second language. Because of this, we're never linguistically alone, and the fact that several of our Russian classmates know a significant bit of English helps us connect with them. Mao, though, speaks hardly any English or Russian, and nobody else knows any Japanese. Still, Mao is always smiling and waves hello enthusiastically to me every morning when we see each other before class.
Today, Mao arrived outside the studio and proceeded to pull many small, carefully wrapped packages from a bag that she was carrying. As each one of us sat down and began warming up, Mao came over to present us with one of these packages- a little gift, given purely out of kindness. I opened mine to find a pack of gummy bears, colorful hair clips, and a little homemade chocolate lava cake.
It was so unexpected and so genuine, and that is precisely why it made me extremely happy. I could see my feelings reflected in the surprised faces of my classmates, several of whom went over to Mao to hug her as a thank-you. By the beginning of our afternoon class, half of us (myself included) had pinned the clips from Mao into our hair.
It is OK if Mao didn't understand the literal meaning of every word that I said when I told her how much I appreciated the gift, because I am sure that she knows what I meant. Absolutely everyone understood Mao's kindness, and Mao could understand that she had made us happy and grateful. It ceased to matter that we didn't all speak the same language, for these ideas are universal and can be communicated without words.
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