Day 3

In Japan, people consider a baby as a treasure, something absolutely priceless. You treat a baby as if s/he is one of the deities. One of the biggest hit songs in the latest Japanese pop music scene is called “A God of the Toilet.” Which shows that there are so many gods and so many beliefs inherited by this culture that they make the nation feel less arrogant if not humbled.

A baby is one of the most troublesome and demanding gods of all, having two contrasting faces: Devil and Angel. She demands from you your full attention, absolute calmness and patience while she puts you on the most thrilling roller coaster ride of your life. You’ve got to learn to be Zen about all the sentiments emerged from your mind in the brand-new role, mom. Otherwise, the god will drive you absolutely crazy and make your motherhood miserable, despite of its inspiring potential.

Early motherhood was the most challenging yet the most wonderful stage in my entire life. Can you imagine holding a god in your arms and being obliged to be at her non-stop service, 24 hours of devoted duty every single day? Especially, this god that sent to me was one of the fussiest ones of all with excessive sensitivity to all my senses. Every single emotion I felt was conveyed directly to her and she screamed with displeasure if it was something negative like a bit of anger, stress or irritation from the extreme fatigue caused by so many sleepless nights. When she sensed any of them, she would cry out “ I don’t care at all what you feel right now. Come on! Make my day!” And I would try out every single solution I could possible come up with. And if none of them worked, I would walk around the house helplessly, with my eyes full of tears and great beads of sweat on my brow,  cradling the screaming god in my arms till she got tired of teaching me. What a lesson! I had to master the art of being, constantly loving and calm. Of course, I was the worst student in the field since “emotionally confused” is my trademark. She has never given me an A+ and still constantly offers me lessons on motherhood.

She doesn’t complain about the quality of my service or her nappies anymore. She doesn’t wake up, screaming her head off every two hours at night anymore. Yet she doesn’t offer me the miraculous bliss I felt as I fed her in my arms anymore, either. Instead of the god-like, perfectly beautiful smile, she has started throwing philosophical questions at me with the most intimidating look on her face. She often inflicts her philosophizing practices on me at the breakfast table. I hope I would receive some merciful pity from some of you if you could only imagine the scene: a mom in her 40’s with a hysterically busy schedule for the day, still in her PJs, with creatively messy hair and sleepy eyes, holding a mug of espresso from which she is sipping in an attempt to convince her aging body and brain to come up with a reasonably satisfying breakfast for her daughter. Those, who possess tender hearts, must be shedding a tear by now.

On the first day of the school, the day of her entrance ceremony, in one of  her best dresses, she suddenly fell silent at the breakfast table and threw out the questions: “What is life, mom? What’s the point of it?” These are not  totally innocent and adorable reflections of a first grader, are they? These big questions only occurred to me when I was in my early 20s, for god’s sake. How am I supposed to admit that it took this girl only 6 years of intense observation of grown-ups to come up with them? How is it possible to maintain the dignity of motherhood when faced with this little philosopher? On the spot, I got a really bad feeling that she would rock some of teachers’ worlds so badly that they would give her a hard time at school. At that time, I thought I had learned to put my ego aside and become as sincere as possible with her, as a “perfectly imperfect being”, to use her term. But it was quite tough to keep myself together and not scream some vicious lines hysterically. I held my breath for a while and managed to say, “Brilliant questions, girl.” And guess what she said! No it is unimaginable. She went, “You just don’t know, do you?” with one of the most daunting eye rolls on the planet. It is certainly not the most loving treatment for a mom who feels high on the anticipation of her daughter’s infinite possibilities, is it? But she certainly strengthens my capacity to listen beyond words.

This skill has been helpful in my teaching carrier. Because of her, I’m more sensitive to the facial expressions and body language of my kids. I have nearly 40 of them. They are not my biological children but they are all dear subjects of my affection. Together we explore the universe of our minds through learning English. Our little shack, the space that facilitates our shared learning process, has unexpectedly become a hideout for every one of us. And the moments I have the great fortune to share with them have been my main source of income and,of the air for my lungs. In other words: a source of life full of spontaneity and laughter. Providing an everlasting fun tour of the wonderland of English to the loveliest, the most intriguing, the most adorable and yet the most critical gods, children, is also one of my main motivations to becoming an M.A. Mama.

I’ve already announced to them all, including the most severe one, my biological daughter, that I plan to climb to the top of the hill of academia and report back to them on what the world looks like from there. Considering their reaction - a concert of eye rolls and L signs on their foreheads - I have no choice now but to just do it, haven’t I?

Day 2

To climb to the top of the hill of academia, there are many obstacles to deal with. These obstacles are not like awesome and cool characters like the dragons and vicious witches that you find in fairy-tales. The first obstacle for me to confront is called Tests, or to be more precise; The International English language Testing System. To be accepted at a Uk university, I must obtain an overall score of 6.5 out of 9.0, with a minimum of 6.0 in each component; reading, writing, listening and speaking. It doesn’t sound gentle like a gentle stroll in the forest, does it? And there will be no prince on a white horse come and rescue me from the coldhearted examiners. I won’t have any angels on my shoulder, either, to whisper all the answers into my ear.


The bitter reality is just page after page of a textbook to read and answer. The best resistance I can make is to glare at the textbook sitting on my desk in the corner of the kitchen, groaning, “How dare you TEST me, you bloody pieces of paper?” Pathetic indeed. And just imagining the depressingly tense and awkward air of the examination room and the nerve- wracking faces of the examiners drives my delusional mind crazy Don’t you wish they could be a little friendlier, and that air could be lighter? How can a human being with an average capacity of endurance confront such a massive stress?


Some IELTS candidates may believe “Practice makes perfect.” Some may hope for a supernatural power to save them. Some radical thinkers may opt for the superstitious belief that eating all the test pages will help to retain all the information on them. Well, I’m a romantic yet mediocre, everyday person, with faith in the good ol’ saying “A friend in need is a friend indeed.”
I don’t have an brilliant brain but I’ve got a brilliant team of cheerleaders on my side. They talk, walk and kick my butt on demand. They ain’t ordinary cheerleaders with microskirts and pompoms, though. Some have got big geeky glasses on. Some have the most sarcastic mouth on the planet. And the most enthusiastic one of all is my most intimidating critic, who gives me the best rolling eyes you could ever imagine. She is often called a daughter of mine. Yet both of us hardly believe the fact. We are the most role-reversed mom and daughter ever. I‘m often en-skewered by her sharp tongue than encouraged by it but she and all my other cheerleaders are on my side, always ready to get on the emotional rollercoaster with me.


In my cross-cultural communication class at university, the professor said, “The most valuable asset you can possibly have for your life is a friendship, that is non-judgmental to who you are, and that brings out the best of you. It is based on mutual respect and extreme enthusiasm to get to know each other. Such a friendship would last forever, enriching and fulfilling your precious life.” He was one of the coolest educators I have encountered. He was one of those little miracles that you sometimes have the good fortune to meet in the world of academia where power-hungry villains rule.


I used to hate those teachers, disguised behind their “ organically good man” masks and their biased moral speeches. I didn’t find any morality in mentally bruising children with their intentionally brutal comments like “I’m completely disappointed with your work. You are nothing but a trouble, aren’t you?” Oh, well, they may have tried to kill my curious nature in order to have a perfect and easy control of their classrooms, but they completely failed to achieve their goal. I’m still here, still climbing on the ladder of wisdom, still full of curiosity and I still have the deepest pity for them. I’ve realized that many teachers are also victims of a serious disease, called “Toxic Teacher Syndrome”.


I hope to show them how that little cheeky brat, who used to sit in the corner of their classroom with so much attitude has everything it takes to become a theoretical researcher in the academic field.

Day 1

2011 has started with a bang. Perhaps I will never forget this year. It
marks the end of one long journey and the beginning of a new journey towards a
Master's degree.

I'm a single mom, just graduated from a Japanese university. When I say
just, I mean yesterday: 25 March 2011. But I'm not one of those young and
beautiful teenage moms. I'm in my 40s. There are those who might think that
this puts me way past my prime. You need to look at me carefully: I imagine
that all my external signs of beauty have become internal now.

Graduating with a pretty awesome GPA of 3.65 was way harder than I had
expected. It was quite a bumpy ride. But I have somehow managed to do so,
thanks to the great support from friends and family. I'm so grateful for the
strength they gave me by being my cheer leaders. My daughter, Momo, my
11-year-old little philosopher, is the best cheer leader of all. And she is the
biggest motivation for me to continue with my uphill academic adventure.

This year, my plan is to score high enough in the International English
Language Testing System (IELTS) test to be accepted into a Master's degree
program at a British university. Next spring, I hope to enrol in a distance
learning course in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages (TESOL)
for Young Learners at Aston University in the UK.

Only 4 years ago, this would have appeared to be just a unrealistic dream.
But achieving a good GPA as an undergraduate student has made me realize
that I have the possibility of reaching my goal. M.A. Mama is what I'd love
to be. Of course it is to satisfy my intellectual curiosity, but it is also
to bring stability to my daughter's life. And perhaps it is the best way I
can show her how to live her life fully under any circumstances.

Especially now, when my country is in crisis after Japan's biggest
earthquake on March 11th. This is the best time to begin this journey to M.A. Mama.
My Motto is Carpe Diem. Going through so much ups and downs and
life-threatening experiences as well as the birth of my daughter has made me live with
more appreciation and excitement.

Today, this is my status: a single mom, with no partner, no well-paying job
and no promising future. All that I have got is a hopeful song in my head,
so bright and catchy that it light up my eyes.

Today, I set out on my journey!