Keiko-sensei

So, my sensei back at Pitt, Keiko McDonald, died on the 14th of September. Obviously, since I spent a lot of time with her, I was quite sad. Paula, the secretary of the East Asian Languages department, asked me to write a blurb for the scrapbook they were going to give to Mr. McDonald. This is what I wrote:

I first met Keiko-sensei after my first semester at University of Pittsburgh. As I walked through the office door, my first impression was that she seemed a little confused about how to use a Mac computer. A very strange first impression, I know, but it has lasted me two years. I am currently in Kobe, Japan, right now; a place I could not possibly be in without her help in writing my recommendation letters for both the program and the numerous scholarships I applied for. By requesting to have Keiko-sensei write my recommendation letters, I had to take her Samurai Films class in order for her to judge me both as a student and as a Japanese major. I agreed, only to find that the class was full. Keiko-sensei, since it was her class, managed to slip me in by overriding the “Full” label during my registration. Though Westerns and Samurai films are by no means my favorite genres of film, and barring the fact I am much more adept at analyzing works of modern art than moving pictures, I found that I enjoyed the class to a great extent. In retrospect, it may have been the reward candy that she constantly brought in her little suitcase to class. Or the interesting ways she tried to scare people out of the class. For example, her explanation of a cheetah picture chasing a jeep (or was it a rabbit?) was that she was the cheetah, we were the jeep-rabbits, and she would catch us if we left class early. Chasing us until we, the weak little beings, were overpowered by her marathon skills, and upon being caught by the scruff returned to class. I never had the privilege of witnessing this phenomenon, but I sincerely wish I could have. Even with the numerous times I dropped in on her unannounced, I never saw her angry, let alone annoyed, at anyone or anything. But she always, always, looked puzzled as she clicked around on that Mac computer, a cheetah subdued by its own method of prowling about the prey’s academic records. Needless to say, I will regret not being able to walk into that office one last time and suppress a giggle at the sight. I wish I could be there for the funeral, but seeing as Keiko-sensei put me over here in Kobe in the first place, I think I would honor her memory more by just continuing what I am doing: studying Japanese.