Mottainai

I'm sorry my blogs don't make any sense anymore. I wish I could have written them in a more logical order. It's just that things that didn't seem noteworthy at the time are coming back to me in sporadic memories. I write about them mostly for my own satisfaction, because maybe it will make them more permanent. Nevertheless, comments are always appreciated.

On the last day of class, my university held a farewell party for all the students who were returning to their countries. Many of them were returning home that same weekend, but I was going to Tokyo for two weeks first. The professors and other school dignitaries were there to congratulate us on a successful semester, and many students' host families came as well. That included my host mom with Whiney and Origami Boy in tow, the two boys wide-eyed at seeing so many foreigners in one room.

Spazzy Sensei, Blazer Sensei, and the other sensei proved their lack of affection for us by disappearing pretty quickly. I'm sure they were just as tired of us as we were of them. Maybe they celebrated our departure by going out and getting wasted.
But my favorite teacher, the writing professor, stuck around to chat. She was my favorite because, unlike the others, she wasn't ridiculously strict. One day I completely forgot to go to her class. Just completely forgot. When I ran to her office later, spouting apologies, she winked, told me all the homework assignments and said I could make up the late ones next week. It was a very, very welcome drop of mercy.
"So you're going home for the winter break, Kelley?" She asked me.
"Oh no, I'm going home for good." I replied.
"What? You're not coming back next semester?" She said, astonished.
"No."
"Just one semester? Mottainai desu ne."
I heard my heart bounce along the floor somewhere near my feet. I was so stunned no words came from my mouth.
"...You know what mottainai means, right?" My teacher asked. I nodded mutely. She seemed uncomfortable, and sort of found an excuse to walk away. And that was the last time I saw my favorite teacher.

I sank into a nearby seat. I had always understood mottainai to mean "what a waste." Surely she couldn't have meant that, could she? What a terrible thing to say to someone who just completed the most challenging 5 months of their entire life! How could she sum up my experience with mottainai?

I spent the rest of the evening with all the energy and cheer of a deflated balloon. I decided to ask my friend's host mom for a little clarification.
"What does mottainai mean?" I said.
"Oh, well, it's something you say when something is wasteful. Like when my son tries to throw away leftover food, I say, 'Don't do that! That's mottainai!' You see? Japanese people don't like waste, so we say that a lot."
I nodded, then attempted to explain:
"When I was talking to my professor...I said I was going back to America, and she said 'mottainai.' I was...um...I had...bad feelings."
"Ohhhhh," my friend's host mom said contemplatively. "Well, in that case...hm...I think she probably meant 'that's too bad.' She was sorry that you're not coming back."
"I see."

I don't know if that's what my professor really meant or if my friend's host mom was just trying to make me feel better. In any case, I departed the campus of Nanzan University for the last time feeling sad and confused. I walked with my host family down the narrow streets in the evening dark, my winter coat and scarf wrapped around me. In the train, Whiney and Origami Boy scampered noisily around the car as my host mom talked with my friend's host mom. I sat quietly on the seat, knowing that this was the last time I was going to ride through the stations whose order I had come to memorize.
"Kawana. Kawana. Odeguchi ga hidari gawa desu. This is Kawana. Please exit on the left side."