More words: “Is your child ready for communal life?”
There are lots of Japanese words I just plain don’t like. Many of them are related to children and learning and schools, so I haven’t had as much contact with them workwise as mothering-wise. The end result being that I don’t think about them so much as rebel against (and complain about) them.
I recently had work-related contact with one of my least favorite phrases: 集団生活 shuudan seikatsu, literally “life in a group.” Many mothers use it as a reason for putting their children into preschool as soon as they are eligible–they want the kids to get used to shuudan seikatsu early on. (My daughters went to preschool the instant they were old enough, but it was because I wanted someone else to play with them for part of the day!)
Anyway, shuudan seikatsu has been stuck in my craw for years–and I never understood exactly why until a few days ago when the word came up in an editing job. The translator had written about the notion of a five-year-old being “adapted for communal life.” I checked the original Japanese, and sure enough, there it was–”able to deal with shuudan seikatsu.” This was the aha moment!
I grew up in the 60s and 70s–during the glory days of, well, communal life in the United States. Although I never lived in a commune, I was on the fringes for several years and saw many people I loved and respected heading in that direction. Somehow, though, the notion of being unable to personally own anything was more than I could deal with. I had a good bike, a nice flute, the typewriter my dad took to college, and a few hundred dollars in the bank. The possibility of signing away even those was just too depressing.
So that was it! My brain read shuudan seikatsu as “communal life,” and I was terrified of the notion that my children, my only blood relatives on this side of the Pacific, would be ripped from my arms, and I would never see them except for short vacations in the summer or maybe at New Years. They would belong to someone else.
After years of living in the shadow of this menacing image, I could finally kill it off–and in plenty of time to apply it to any possible grandchildren. I carefully crossed out “adapted for communal life” and wrote in “capable of participating fully in group activities.”
Done!
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you are now ready to read any book by AYN RAND.
コメント by pamela — 2010/4/29 木曜日 @ 8:47:30
Now that is even MORE scary : )
コメント by admin — 2010/4/29 木曜日 @ 8:57:24
Hi Deb, excellent! So, now, translate into Japanese “stuck in my craw.” I know it isn’t crow, but I picture a crow flying out of your mouth when I read that.
Lovely epiphany. Don’t think you have to jump into Ayn Rand now, but there is an interesting novel called “Drop City” about communal life. It won’t change your mind.
コメント by Rebecca — 2010/4/29 木曜日 @ 11:48:05
Whew! Thanks! I waited all afternoon for someone to save me from Ayn Rand. And I just knew someone was going to mention the Japanese for “stuck in my craw.” Actually there is a similar phrase about getting something unpleasant “stuck in one’s throat,” AND when something goes well, one can say that “it went down well.”
コメント by admin — 2010/4/29 木曜日 @ 15:58:23