Lesson Four: Advanced English

I draw a stick figure of Yoko!

I include her comfortable shoes, the Mario Kart wheel she used for the first time, her ever-present water bottle, and the purse she always carries diagonally across her chest.

Yoko is delighted. She begins to get out her camera to take a picture of it, and is very excited when I tell her she can have it.

"It's a caricature," the DNB explains. "Do you know caricature?"

I look at him. Are you kidding me?

"Um, caricature?" Yoko repeats. She puts the tips of her fingers under her jaw, which she does when she's thinking. "I don't know it."

"It's a drawing that emphasizes an easily-identifiable characteristic of a person." He speaks slowly, waving his hands in the air with his words.

Yoko stares blankly at him.

"Characteristic," he says again.

"Dude. Seriously." I step in. "She doesn't understand a thing you said."

"Yes she does!" the DNB insists. His basis for this is, nothing.

"Right, because every important word in that sentence had more than 4 syllables," I point out.

The DNB begins to protest.

"And the fact that you yelled it at her while gesturing wildly doesn't mean she understands."

He pauses. "You don't know..."

Lesson Three: Communication

We go ice skating!

We are with a group of Yoko's Japanese classmates, and I am drafted to help them get their skates from the rental counter. I quickly figure out the rough conversions, as well as the fact that most of the boys have feet only slightly larger than my own. It's not like I thought I was a dainty flower or anything, but MAN UP, Japan.

One boy returns to the counter and holds his skates out to me. "Not right," he says.

"Oh, okay. Are they too long or too short?" I ask.

"Not right," he repeats. Yoko speaks English pretty well, but I know some of her classmates are not as advanced.

"Too long or too short?" I ask again, slowly and with hand gestures. I speak loudly on the off chance he can't understand me because he's going deaf. C'MON KID, WORK WITH ME.

"No," he insists, taking the skates back from me. He turns them upside down and shows me that he has been given two left feet. "See? Not right."

Lesson Two: Math

We watch American TV!

I try to find something that will be easy for Yoko to understand. I forgo Cribs, and knowing how much the Japanese love their quiz shows, pick Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?

I quickly realize that I'm going to need to explain Jeff Foxworthy. "Do you know what a redneck is?" I start. "I think every country pretty much has them. Like they talk funny and don't have teeth? They have lots of cars in their yards? They've been married three times and still have the same in-laws?"

Yoko clearly isn't getting it, but she keeps saying, "Okay. Okay."

It's a lost cause, so I pause the show when the 5th grade math question appears on screen. "What is the cubed root of 8?" I read aloud.

Yoko looks at me questioningly. I draw the square root symbol with my finger, and her face lights up. "But it's the cubed root," I explain. "Cubed is like 3 of something."

Yoko does some math quickly out loud in Japanese, while I try to figure out what the root of 8 is so I can multiply it times 3.

"How do you figure out what the root is?" I ask no one in particular. I know what a square root is, but what's a plain root?

"Two," says Yoko. "Answer is two."

"Are you sure?" I reply. Seems unlikely that a foreigner who barely even understands the words in the problem would be able to do the calculation.

I press play. Jeff Foxworthy reveals that the 5th grader has gotten the question correct. So has the contestant. So has Yoko.

"Are you kidding me?" I shout. "Asians are now good at math in ANY LANGUAGE! I'm TOTALLY IMPRESSED."

Yoko beams.

Lesson One: Traditional American Male-Female Roles

Our exchange student arrives!

To those of you wondering if there is ANY sort of host-family criteria/background check/mental health evaluation, the answer is: screw you. I am very nurturing and motherly, especially after I've been drinking.

Our student is in high school, and because even the DNB hates being mentioned on this blog, I'm going to omit any other particularly identifying information about her. The DNB can't for the life of him remember how to pronounce her name, so he's been privately referring to her as Yoko for months.

"Is that the only...?"

"The only Japanese name I can think of?" he interjects. "Yes."

We decide to have hamburgers for her first night in America. This is the DNB's specialty, so he grills while I sit at the table and try to get Yoko to sit also. She seems to do a lot of standing.

During dinner, I realize that because Kirby and Madeline are only a wish and a prayer in their grandparents' hearts, and because our lives really aren't that interesting, Yoko is basically the center of attention. Which is pretty much exactly the opposite of what she's comfortable with. I decide to break the ice with a pressing question.

"So, do you play Nintendo?" I ask.

She looks up from her potato salad. "No."

The DNB is horrified with me, as if calling her Yoko makes him any better. I wanted to know, I mouth at him.

"Other high school students play Wii," Yoko offers. "I can't. I'm too busy."

Everyone relaxes, faux pas avoided for the time being. We discuss her hobbies and the DNB's job. I tell her I work at home. After dinner, the DNB hops up to put the dishes in the dishwasher, while I put away the leftovers.

"What would you like to do tonight?" I ask.

"I'm tired," Yoko answers.

"Okay, well you can go to your room and settle in if you'd like, or we can play cards or chat," I tell her. "Whatever you'd like."

"Is it sleepytime?" she asks.

"Sure," I reply. There's a long pause, and no one moves. "Okay, well you can go to your room," I tell her.

She gathers her things and heads to the guest room.

"Did you just send her to bed?" the DNB hisses at me.

"I wasn't trying to! I wanted her to do whatever she wanted to!"

The next morning, I get up at 6:45am to pack her lunch and take her to school. I don't know how you moms do this every day, it's horrible. And the lunch thing has been weighing heavily on my mind. What do kids these days take for lunch?

"Is a Lunchable too, like, 7-year-old kid?" I ask the DNB.

"Um, YES," he says emphatically.

I call my mother to ask what my high school aged brother takes for lunch. She gives a long list of very specific food items.

No one is being the slightest bit helpful, so I make a chicken and ham sandwich on a roll and include a Nutri-Grain bar for good measure. Then I decide she needs dessert, so I pack Animal Crackers because they are delicious. Finally, I throw in some carrots because, I don't know, isn't that what people have in sack lunches? I wouldn't eat them, but I'm pretty sure some people do.

I am going to drop the DNB off at work after we take Yoko to school, so he climbs in the back seat and lets her take the front. I chatter on the way to school, and when we get there, she spots a fellow Japanese classmate and runs off.

The DNB and I take a deep breath as I drive off. "I wonder what she thinks of us," I say.

"Well, we're really screwing with her understanding of gender roles," the DNB comments.

"Oh-em-gee you're right," I reply, thinking back through the last 18 hours. The DNB cooked dinner and helped cleaned up, and we discussed his long work hours. Then I said I work at home. And I drove the car and the DNB sat in the back seat.

"Am I ..." I ask, "a kept woman or a dude?"