#Non-native English teacher

[themoneysavvyblog]

Finding an ESL Teaching Job as a Non-Native English Speaker

If you’re a regular reader of my blog, you may remember that last year, I volunteered teaching ESL for 2 weeks in Guatemala. I also wanted to make a career switch to ESL teaching. However, it didn’t happen. A few people reached-out to me with questions on how to find an ESL teaching job as a non-native English speaker. My first language is French. I was born and raised in France before coming to…

[littlemizzlinguistics]

It’s very kind of people I speak other languages with to assume that my slow comprehension and endless requests for repetition are as a result of us not speaking my first language, when in reality, my auditory processing is just complete shit.

[shalom-iamcominghome]

English 🤝 Hebrew

Shortening words until they are unintelligible to outsiders

[chaoswillcalmusdown]

ahhhhhhh i love it when my swedish teacher pal asks me for tips on swedish rap songs she can use while teaching imagery bc and i quote "the stuff the kids listen to these days is a bit too flat" lmao

[msue0027]

I constantly forget that for some English teacher isn't a teacher of their (probably) first and most important foreign language without which you can do basically nothing in today's world. But it is a teacher of their first language ever, and they learn about vowels, words making, grammatic, orthography, literature, long dead authors (who have been writing in different speech tbh), what feelings we can see in that poem, how to write a letter and how to speak up wisely or something. All in English. Wow. For them English isn't lists of vocab or trying to understand those GODDAMN tenses.

That's wild.

[stubz]

Fenrir smiled as he watched his little love work. He came to surprise her with a dinner date after work but it seemed like there a few stragglers left. Not that Kim or the children minded too much, the little children giggled as they ran from a playfully roaring Kim.

Glyka he has had the honor of meeting before, the youngling truly lived up to his name for he was sweetness itself. Sasha and Rubi on the other hand were new so he had not yet been properly introduced.

"Run Sasha! Run or she'll get you!"

"Yesh!"

The little children ran as fast as they could, well as fast as Sasha could, Glyka and Rubi didn't want to leave their friend behind for the 'monster' to get. Just as any good warriors should do!

"Ra! I'll gobble you up-oh shoot!" Fenrir winced as he watched his little love slip on a stray toy and tumble backwards.

"I'm okay! Just uh, gonna take a moment. Friggin Legos..."

"Quick let's hide."

"Yesh." "Ye."

As far as Fenrir could tell, the two little humans were still learning how to speak. Which was surprising as they looked to be about 4 years old...he thinks. Human children are so much smaller than orc children so it's hard for Fenrir to accurately guess ages.

For the most part the two rarely said a word other than the handful that they could confidently say like 'ye(sh)' which was yes and 'no' which was obviously no. Despite this, Kim and Max managed just fine as did the other children. Never were the two excluded from games, always asked yes or no questions, they were treated like everyone else by both the younglings and teachers.

Said little children scurry over towards where Fenrir sits on the ground and hide behind him. The orc's massive frame easily hiding the three of them.

"Mister Fenrir, can we hide here?" Glyka whispered.

"Yes you may Glyka, actually, hold on." Taking out his folded up cloak, the orc puts it on and drapes it over the children behind him. "Stay still and Ki-Miss Kim won't find you." he shuffled to make sure everyone was covered.

"Thank you."

"Merci."

"Cпасибо."

"...Вы говорите на моем языке?" he peered under his cloak the children. "Je ne pensais pas qu'on enseignait la langue de la noblesse orque ici." he spoke to Rubi.

For a moment no one spoke until Sasha and Rubi began speaking non-stop at the same time.

"Vous parlez français!" the little girl beamed.

"Вы говорите по-русски!" the little boy giggled.

"Athea peut-elle venir à mon anniversaire?"

"Вы можете поднять машину?"

"Uh, wait, по очереди. Soulever une voiture?"

"You speak French and Russian?"

Finally Kim had gotten up from the floor and came to investigate the blanket orc fort.

"French and Russian? But this is orcish, Sasha speaks the common tongue and Rubi speaks the nobility tongue."

"Oh that's so cool! Are you sure our species never had contact with the other before? Cause French and Russian are the official languages in the countries they're from. Rubi is French and Sasha is Russian, they're still learning English."

"...I thought they just couldn't speak yet. I thought they might be toddlers still." he examined the two, lifting them up to his eye level. The children giggled and spoke to him in their respective languages.

"No hon," she laughed. "they're 4 years old. They just need to spend more time with the others and then they'll be talking in no time...but it seems like I'll be roping in Athea and the others to spend more time with them now. Do they also speak the nobility tongue?"

"Yes, titles mean little now but the language is still taught. Athea and the others would be happy to spend more time with Rubi and Sasha. I imagine they'll be quite happy to speak in our native tongue more with friends." he smiles.

.

When the children were picked up Sasha and Rubi eagerly dragged their respective parent to Fenrir. Kim fought back a laugh at the wide eyed looks on the moms when seeing the 8 foot tall orc speak fluent French and Russian.

Talk was made, numbers were exchanged, calls on speaker phone done, and now Athea is attending Rubi's birthday as her friend and as Sasha and Glyka's translator. The boys were already invited but this will make things easier for everyone, specifically the parents.

While Fenrir and Kim left for their late dinner date a thought came onto him.

"You don't speak French or Russian. Nor does Max."

"Yep, although he's learning Spanish and Japanese."

"But...how did you communicate so perfectly with them then? Not only the language barrier but they also just rarely spoke the few words they know."

"Body language and gut feeling. We have translators for human languages but most of them only work if you can type what you want to say meaning children their age can't use them. So me and Max mainly have to rely solely on body language sometimes feeling."

"I guess when you live in a world with thousands of languages you need to."

"Yep. Sometimes I wish we only had like 5, I could learn 5 languages."

"I like your diverse world though. So many cultures and stories. Each one unique and wonderful. Just like you." he grins leaning down to kiss the top of Kim's head.

"...well...I don't actually wish that. Specially now." she smiles.

[melonymint753]

think I jumped right into overexplaining in the tags so the short answer is, depending on how you count it, between 3-9:

English (?), Mandarin, Malay, Tamil, French, German, Japanese, Arabic, Spanish

*for non americans, that’s what you attend between the ages ~11-14 btw

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

tu sais que je t'aime bien, non? p2

pair: Fred Weasley x reader requested by anonymous

can you do a pt 2 to tu sais que je could you do a pt 2 to t’aime bien, non? where they’re at the order, and she’s still learning English, and Sirius know English so he knows what she’s saying when she makes small comments, whether about someone or about Fred. And they talk a lot in French, and she’s glad she can talk ‘normally’. she grew up without a dad, or a good father figure and that’s what Sirius was to her. And Fred learning bits of French, mainly just flirty stuff 😂

masterlist | navigation | p1

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Y/N had grown used to the bustling activity at the Order of the Phoenix. Grimmauld Place was a stark contrast to the serene halls of Beauxbatons, but it had its own charm. It was chaotic and loud, with people constantly coming and going. But in all the noise, Y/N found comfort in small moments.

One of those moments was her time with Sirius Black.

Sirius had taken an immediate liking to Y/N. He was quick to realize that she wasn’t comfortable speaking English all the time, and when he found out she spoke French, he effortlessly switched languages. It was a relief to Y/N, who felt her shoulders relax every time they chatted in her native tongue.

“Comment tu vas aujourd'hui, Y/N?” Sirius asked one afternoon, as they sat in the kitchen with mugs of tea.

Y/N smiled, feeling at ease. “Je vais bien, merci. C’est agréable de parler en français.”

“Je comprends,” Sirius replied, his voice warm. “C’est bien d’avoir quelqu’un à qui parler aussi. Cette maison peut être un peu trop parfois.”

Y/N nodded, looking around at the dark walls of Grimmauld Place. It wasn’t just the house that could be overwhelming; it was everything—the war, the uncertainty, and the fact that she was so far from home. But Sirius made it feel less lonely. He’d become like a father to her, something she never really had growing up.

“Merci, Sirius. Tu es vraiment comme un père pour moi,” Y/N said softly, her voice full of emotion.

Sirius paused, his expression softening as he looked at her. “Et tu es comme une fille pour moi, Y/N. Je serai toujours là pour toi.”

The sincerity in his voice made her heart swell. It was nice to have someone who cared, who understood her without needing translation. She had Fred, of course, but there was something special about her bond with Sirius. He filled a void in her life she didn’t even know was there.

As the weeks went on, Y/N spent more and more time with Sirius, talking in French about anything and everything. They’d sit together during Order meetings, exchanging comments about the others in the room.

“Regarde Fred, il a l’air tellement concentré,” Y/N whispered one evening, watching Fred from across the room as he listened to Moody talk about the latest mission.

Sirius chuckled, leaning in closer. “Il est toujours concentré quand il s’agit de toi.”

Y/N blushed, trying to hide her smile. “Tu crois?”

“Je le sais,” Sirius replied with a knowing grin. “Il n’arrête pas de te regarder quand tu ne fais pas attention.”

Y/N felt a warm flutter in her chest. Fred had been learning bits of French too, mainly picking up on the flirty things she would say. He was getting better at it, though his accent was still terrible, which she found adorable.

One evening, after everyone else had gone to bed, Y/N and Fred were sitting together in the living room, the fire crackling softly in the fireplace. Y/N was reading, and Fred was leaning against her, pretending to read but mostly just watching her.

“Tu es belle ce soir,” Fred whispered in clumsy French, a proud smile on his face.

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re getting better, Fred.”

“I had a good teacher,” he said, grinning as he laced his fingers with hers.

Y/N leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Je t'aime, Fred,” she murmured, feeling bold.

Fred’s eyes sparkled, and he responded with a mischievous smile, “Je t'aime aussi, Y/N. Did I say that right?”

She nodded, giggling. “Perfectly.”

Fred puffed up his chest in mock pride. “Maybe I’ll become fluent in French just so I can understand all the lovely things you say about me.”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Y/N teased, bumping her shoulder against his.

Fred smirked, leaning in closer. “I’d like it even more if you kissed me again.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t resist. She leaned in, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. Fred deepened it, pulling her closer as they both melted into the moment.

When they finally pulled away, Y/N rested her head on Fred’s shoulder, feeling content.

“Fred,” she started, “I’m really glad you’re learning French.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Fred asked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Because it means you understand me better,” Y/N said softly. “And I like that.”

Fred squeezed her hand, his voice full of affection. “I like it too, Y/N. But you know, even if I don’t understand everything you say, I think I get the important stuff.”

Y/N looked up at him, her heart full. “What’s that?”

“How much you care about me,” Fred replied, his voice serious for once. “And how much I care about you.”

Y/N felt tears prick her eyes, but they were happy tears. She knew that even with the language barrier, their feelings were clear. Love didn’t need translation.

“Je t'aime, Fred,” she said again, her voice barely above a whisper.

Fred kissed her forehead, his voice soft as he replied, “Je t'aime, Y/N.”

[olderthannetfic]

As a non-native English speaker, I'm having... acronym burnout. I see GNC and think it stands for "group chat", AFAB for "All Cops are Bad", comship for... think it's the same as "commie" and therefore it means "communist". But that's just the autofill in my head, I kinda get what they mean, but not exactly what they stand for. Until I found a random post spelling out the meaning, like the recent anon asking what comship stands for. I just don't care enough to Google the meaning and never used these acronyms or reply to anyone who did. Does anyone else also scroll through posts and not stop to Google the acronyms? I know this is such a weird question, but maybe anyone out there has similar experience or maybe this is a universal experience.

--

A Spanish teacher of mine told me that the worst part of passing some exam or other for English was the tome of three-letter acronyms she had to memorize. "Why is English like this???" was her comment.

[crimson-and-clover-1717]

Seriously. What is with Izzy’s pronunciation of ‘Edward’, twice, in this scene!? He replaces the schwa /ə/ (‘Edwuhd’) with /ar/ (‘Edw/ar/d’).

No native English speaker pronounces the name ‘Edward’ in this way. I teach English as a foreign language, and do a lot of work on pronouncing the schwa. A non-native speaker might understandably pronounce forward as ‘for-w/ar/d, emphasising the ‘ar’, and placing the stress on the second syllable. We practise ‘forwuhd’ instead.

Izzy’s just pissing about with Ed’s name. It really jars when you hear Roach (a non-native speaker) pronounce his name correctly in between. I can’t help thinking it’s partly linked to this:

It’s a microaggression out of earshot to make himself feel better after being corrected publicly. Izzy thinks he’s the only one allowed to use or hear this name. It’s their ‘special name’. He’s affronted that Ed has done this. So he thinks, I will use ‘Edward’ with the crew, but you can’t make me say it correctly. Oh, it’s so passive aggression.

But it’s a mocking of Ed too. Especially when he follows up with the idea that Jim is with Edward discussing ‘feelings or something’. ‘Edward’ doesn’t deserve his respect for being such a ‘namby-pamby’. Only Blackbeard deserves that. ‘Edward’ is being erased now, and one option is screwing around with the sound of the name. Izzy knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s power-play. It’s ownership.

The pronunciation of bipoc people’s names as accurately as possible is really important. I come across difficult names on a daily basis, and spend a good few minutes explaining name challenges for anglosphere teachers, and trying so, so hard to get the students’ names correct. I tell a student to correct me if I get their name repeatedly or significantly wrong.

And Edward isn’t even a traditional bipoc name! It’s Anglo-Saxon in origin. I just can’t with a deliberate mispronunciation of a name Izzy knows only too well. It’s dehumanising and deliberately so.

“Ed-w/ar/d…”

Piss off, Izzy.

[ofpd]

a large part of what inspired this is speaking a gendered language way more often than previously lmao. i feel legit insulted every time the teacher tells a student to address a sentence to me as a way of telling them to formulate the sentence with a female addressee

i think im gonna start going by they them

[sharksupermacy]

wave

wave - non-idol! danielle marsh x non-idol! reader

synopsis: you and danielle didn't talk to each other in school.. but will that change when you you were forced to do a project together?

genre: fluff, mutual pining, english project, orange bowl being doing the most , non-idol! dani x non-idol! reader

it was nice to get away from the busy city of seoul and go to a quieter place like new castle.

you were new to australia. new to the culture, place, and people. your parents decided it was the best decision to send you abroad to australia during middle school to further improve your english.

the best word you could describe your time 2 year stay in australia so far was with was peculiar. you could never find something predictable while staying there, the variety of native animals and bugs, the people in your school, sometimes what street you were going down, and which beach was busy on what days.

however, there were things you found very predictable, what time shops would open, relatively what time the buses would arrive, and what time the convince shop open that you bought breakfast from.

then there was danielle, the girl in your english class. she fit into both of these categories. it was always easy to predict what people were going to say about her or how she was swarmed every day, but in contrast, you could never figure out her actions.

despite being the most popular person in the school, she always sat right next to you in english class. there were people clamming around you who would gladly have danielle sit next to themselves, but she always chose to sit next to you. the highlight of your day was when you could always see all her cute doodles in her notebooks and colorful highlighters spread out on her desk. both of you didn't talk that much in class or outside of class due to you both being in different groups.

she preferred to hang around her soccer teammates, and you tended to hang around art kids. never having the chance to see another. expect in class, where all you two shared was a quick glance and a smile at each other. however, that was all about to change one day with one fateful assignment.

"okay class! we're going to do partner assignments, and guess what we're doing by lotto! so everyone put your name down on a slip of paper and put it into this lovely orange bowl," your teacher stated.

she ripped a stack of sticky notes in half and told a student to distribute them as she looked back to her computer. as the sticky notes were being passed out, you could hear a couple of rows down a bunch of your classmates whispering about wanting to be with danielle for this project as they slowly walked up to the bowl, tossing the paper into the bowl. when you got your sheet of paper, you wished that danielle was your partner so you could finally muster the courage to talk to her.

slowly but surely, once the orange bowl of fate had filled out, soon the names were filed out along with reactions from students. what types of reactions were varied—some disappointment, happiness, maybe even confusion. but that all had stopped when danielle name was pulled out of the bowl. all the class was ever so curious of name that would be pulled out the bowl even you . imagine the shock when it was you who was pulled out of that fateful bowl. she had looked over you with a surprised face, reaching for your hands as she pulled them up and exclaimed, she exclaims out, "omg, y/n, my desk buddies, we get to be project buddies!!"

those six words, you were hooked. the rest of english class flew by as both of you exchanged numbers, promising that you would both text each other when you got home. you reassured your loudly beating hearts that this was purely for the project and not for any other reason.

when you arrived home, you received a small ding from your phone when setting it down to take off your shoes. you picked your phone up off the ground and set it, only to see that the notification was from no one other than dani.

danielle from english: hi, y/n!!! about the english project, is it ok that we meet up after school tmr so we can work on the project at my house

cutie from english: hi danielle!! yea tmr work just fine!! does meeting you at the front of school work?

danielle from english: you can call me dani! (if your comfortable) yep front of school work just fine!!

cutie from english: ok dani!! see you tmr!!

danielle from english: you too y/n!!

with that, you had returned to your aunt's apartment in melbourne, which she had graciously let you use during your stay for the past two years. plugging in your phone as you finished your other assignments on your laptop, looking up at the time from the living room floor where papers had been laid out. 8:00 p.m., deciding to make yourself dinner before passing out.

the day has passed sooner than expected, and now you are out front of the school, waiting for dani to come pick you up. scrolling on your phone while waiting near the school tree for her to come. 

"BOO!" a figure behind you said as you jumped, scared from the surprise attack. when you turned around, all you were met with was a smiling dani. "Hi y/n!!!" she said exciditely. "sorry for the scare, but you were too cute to resist," she giggled out.

she called you cute. your heart was beating loudly in your ears due to being scared (and well, dani too), but you smiled at her. "shall we go?" you said, reaching your hand out to dani. 

"we shall," dani said. both you and her were off towards her house. who knows? maybe both of you confessed to each other, but that's a story for another time. for now, you were content with having danielle to share the now with.

a/n: ngl this was harder to write than i thought it be also the text colours legit just remind of macdonald as this point- i cant never not unsee it!!! (HELP!))

[cityzenshark]

Biology of Terrans (so far)

1 - Fuel & energy

Already explained in canon: water. However it's not clarified if they need specifically Emberstone-infused water or just water is enough. Judging by S1 part A, Twitch and Thrash goes about probably a week or two unfed before their body goes on automatic drive to find their energy source and can turn aggressive (like humans when we're tired and hungry). [edit: they do specifically need Emberstone water]

2 - Language

It's shown that the current Terrans immediately knows, speak and read in English. I think this is because the Maltos' mother tongue is English. Should a Terran is born, lets say, in Japan or linked to a Japanese person, their base language and literacy is Japanese. If the linked human is multi-cultural, the Terrans might be multilingual but it doesn't seem to be the case since the Malto kids are half-Filipino.

3 - Basic knowledge

Besides having literacy from the moment they're born, the Terrans absorb knowledge a lot faster without having to download them into their brains like a Cybertronian would. But they still require time, experience and teachers.

[Nightshade's high intelligence should've been enabled/recognized by Wheeljack first but they had to make NS super smart out of nowhere while their siblings took a few episodes. OR Nightshade is super smart because they're data(?) is influenced by Alex since he's present when the triplets are born]

What they need longer time to learn is emotional intelligence. They can't understand mixed feelings or read a situation unless someone explains it them.

4 - High adaptability to Earth conditions (HC)

Cybertronians hate Earth's nature not only because it's disgusting to them, because Earth is not friendly to metals. Rusting materials, temperature-based pressures, humidity, atmosphere, dirt, sand, and water -- the Terrans' life source.

In multiple shows, Cybertronians aren't adaptable to Earth's weather. Snow freezes their bodies, lightning can harm them, seawater rusts, etc.. What if the Terrans are immune to them?

Humans are adapted to the natural conditions of our native home. Ex. Tibetans thrive normally with the mountains' thin air while non-natives need oxygen masks. While Cybertronians have very limited time in frozen lands, Terrans can go about as long as they want. Cybertronians need to wash themselves off of seawater to prevent rust, meanwhile the Terrans are just fine.

[divaofmads]

TOM RIDDLE | DARK LADY 🖤💚

Part I: Gentleman | Part II

Warning: Toxic relationship, Dark Magic, Greed, Non-canon but does not affect Canon, There are historical inaccuracies, I wanted to write the character as an anti-hero but this is my first attempt. So please excuse me.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Ages are written according to the main movie. Due to the events in Rowling's universe not being fully established, McGonagall's age was determined according to the first books. I wrote McGonagall's youth by imagining Eva Green, and no matter what the main character's name is or what their physical features are, the main character is always you, I recommend you read it knowing this.

A/N 2: Each character's story will be stated as a season. Because I am writing too long to be a one-shot and too short to be a novel.

A/N 3: I apologize for the mistakes I made in English that is not my native language and I am trying to improve my writing skills.

Dividers by picsart

The classroom, surrounded by high windows, was trapped in deep silence. The students listened intently to Professor McGonagall. It was the third year of the Transfiguration class and advanced spells were being taught. They were aware of their responsibility to be good witches or wizards for their fates that were sinking deeper into darkness with each passing day.

The candlelight behind the teacher's desk had made the professor's presence before them seem ghostly, here and there in shadow. The grooves and protrusions in her skin now blatantly thrust their presence into the students' eyes. Ron realized how old she was, as her wrinkles were more pronounced than ever. He wondered what secrets, what memories she might be hiding behind those wrinkles, and for a moment it frightened him.

When McGonagall caught Ron's eye, she couldn't make sense of the meaningful look on the boy's face. She addressed the boy with her usual dominant expression.

"Mr. Weasly, you seem very interested in the lesson. Would you like to show us your interest by performing a successful Avifors spell?"

Ron nodded in rejection, afraid of McGonagall's stern look. His lips seemed locked, and he couldn't speak. His red hair trembled.

McGonagall looked down at the boy. "What happened, Mr. Weasly? Did the dragon catch your tongue? You can do that, check your knowledge from last year."

Harry moved to save his friend from the moment. "Sir, I don't think Ron can comply with your request. Well... his wand doesn't guarantee complete obedience."

McGonagall snorted. "Well, I hope you try to renew your wand soon, Mr. Weasly, otherwise you'll have a very hard time passing this course."

Hermione raised her hand as Ron pressed his lips together and hung his head in embarrassment. A question extracurricular had occurred to her regarding the incident. "Professor, I have a question about wands."

She turned his sharp eyes on Hermione and looked at her through his glasses. "I'm listening, Miss Granger."

"Can you tell us about the existence of wizards or witches who can cast spells without using a wand?"

After Harry met Sirius Black, who had been a prisoner in the treacherous arms of slander for twelve years, Hermione Granger had been deeply involved in research in the archives of the school library. For this, she was grateful to the invisibility cloak. While she was researching the Black family, a name caught her attention. A name that also closely interested Minerva Mcgonagall.

McGonagall took a deep breath and looked around the class. A memory hidden in her wrinkles that Ron found strange suddenly appeared in her expression, and she looked longingly. Except for a few students who were emotionally developed at an early age, like Hermione, no one could understand the compassion in her expression.

“Well,” she began. As she moved between the three rows of tables, she began to explain. “The wand is an important tool for a witch or wizard to channel their power.” Her eyes scanned the students one by one. “It allows a witch or wizard to learn more powerful spells and charms more easily and more quickly.” she placed his hand on the desk where Neville was sitting for support. “The most talented student I have ever seen at wandless magic,” Harry continued, whispering to himself under the impact of the experience. “Dumbledore.” The depth of admiration in his voice brought a faint smile to McGonagall’s face. Although he was nervous at being heard by the professor, especially by such a stern-looking witch, it did not last long.

"You are right, Mr. Potter. The Headmaster's power and intelligence are beyond question. However, as a student, the most talented witch I have ever seen at creating powerful wandless spells and charms was my peer, Ophelia Black."

Harry asked, adding substance to the other students' astonishment. "Ophelia Black? Is she from the Black family? Was she related to Sirius Black?"

McGonagall kept her stern expression. "Yes, she was Sirius' aunt. But she was no different from Sirius. Despite graduating from Slytherin, Ophelia shone not only with her intelligence and talent, but also with her character. She possessed a type of magical ability rarely seen in Hogwarts' history."

Ron said sarcastically, "It's not often we hear that someone from Slytherin is talented."

Ron was doing a good job of getting the attention of the Slytherin students in the class, but McGonagall continued to walk around the room, scowling at them both to shut them up. "I see you've got your tongue in the right place," the heels of her shoes echoed on the stone floor. "Mr. Weasley, I suggest you put your prejudices aside. Most Slytherin students are far more complex than you think. Ophelia was too."

Draco Malfoy interrupted the professor, imitating his father's arrogance from his seat. "My father used to say that Ophelia Black was a freak. A disgrace to her family."

McGonagall's face hardened even more, and a dead silence fell over the classroom. She turned her head towards Malfoy with chilling calm. She was firm against the shameless slander against her friend. "I wouldn't build my life on what your father said if I were you. Suffice it to say, Lucius Malfoy is not someone who can compete with Ophelia."

Draco began to feel a little uncomfortable, but he frowned and sat silently. His lips tightened into a tight line.

Meanwhile, McGonagall turned back to the class. "Ophelia was a powerful wizard who could have been the Dark Lord's favorite. She stood up to Voldemort with her courage, morality, and determination. Courage is not just for Gryffindor. Ophelia proved that."

As Hermione and the other students listened with curiosity, McGonagall continued, "Wandless magic is extremely rare. But Ophelia could perform extremely effective magic without even needing to use her wand." Harry was as interested in the subject as if he were listening to his godfather. It was amazing to hear of someone so similar to Sirius Black. He asked. It had only been a short time since he had met him, and it made him happy to hear about such an admired relative of Sirius Black. "Then why have we never heard of her before?"

McGonagall looked at Harry. "Because in history the heroes do not always shine brightly, Mr. Potter. Ophelia was ostracized by her own family, but that did not make her bow her head. She did the right thing. And for that, she will always be a friend I will be proud of."

Draco remained silent, embarrassed, eager to send his letter of complaint to his father after class.

McGonagall glanced around the class and said, "Now, back to our lesson. Perhaps one day one of you will become as unforgettable as Ophelia. But that depends on staying on the right path."

The question on Harry and the others' minds was: What happened to her? Despite Hermione's research, she couldn't find a source on the subject.

September 1952

Headmaster Armando Dippet's Office - Afternoon

Ophelia was walking quickly through the Gargoyle corridor, illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the windows. It had already become dark due to Slughorne extending the lesson and not allowing early dismissals, leaving its coldness blowing over the Hogwarts castle. The cold surface of the stone walls made the young witch's pale white skin shiver and her quince hairs stand on end.

Out of breath, she ran towards the bronze statue in front of her so she wouldn't be ten minutes late for her meeting with Headmaster Dippet. The skirt of her black robe was flying, the emerald green hair wrapped in it was slowly being released.

She was among the few students who knew the password the gargoyle asked. This must have been an indication of how much Dippet trusted her. She repeated the magic words without changing her proud stance on the spiral staircase steps. When the gargoyle accepted the password and started spinning around its axis, the stairs formed and took Ophelia to the second floor.

She tightened her hair clip as she walked down the steps and into the office. She looked at her reflection in the glass of the nearest window and smoothed the silver strand in front of her hair with the palm of her hand. After convincing herself that she looked formal enough, she knocked twice on the carved maple door. But there was no sound. She thought he might be distracted by his busy schedule with the Ministry of Magic. She knocked again. This time five times. She was sure there was someone inside, she could feel it. She could hear the paintings talking to someone. Curiosity insidiously wrapped itself around her heart and took over. She grabbed the door handle impatiently to see what was in the headmaster's office, opened it abruptly, and put her foot over the threshold.

The office glowed dimly with magical light. The bookcases were filled with centuries-old works, and the conversations of the portraits on the walls had diminished to a whisper - after Ophelia arrived. She had heard the portrait of Fytherley Undercliffe, a former headmaster, pronounce the name Tom Riddle. It was not unfamiliar. She remembered Professor Dumbledore mentioning the name several times before. It was the only thing that piqued her curiosity. She crept inside, looking carefully. She glanced at the headmaster's desk first, but Dippet was not there. She was certain that there was someone else in the room besides the moving pictures. She paused for a moment, then noticed movement. A young man had emerged from the shadow of the chair. Ophelia turned her head to the young man at the bottom of the stairs.

When he asked with a cool smile, "Are you waiting for the principal?" Ophelia's only thought was that the old figure in the painting was the person she was talking about. Another student who knew the Gargoyle's password! A former student who had not been forgotten since graduation. Was this the poison of jealousy pumping from her heart into her veins?

"Yes," Ophelia said in a calm but somewhat defiant voice. "But it looks like we won't be alone."

Tom leaned slowly against the edge of the table. His eyes scanned Ophelia from head to toe, an analytical, almost menacing gaze. He had never met anyone whose irises were as different as the sun and the moon. A wisp of gray in the front of his raven-black hair could be the cause of the storms raging inside her.

"Headmaster is usually not around at this time of day. So waiting here is sometimes a waste of time."

Ophelia looked at the young man with a confident smile. The candles in the office were shining brightly enough on his skin that she could see his face. She could easily see his dangerous eyes. "So why are you here?" she asked.

"You're curious. But curiosity can be dangerous sometimes, you know," he said with a subtle sarcasm.

Ophelia ignored the warning. She answered with determination, never taking her eyes off his. "We can't have knowledge without curiosity, can we? Someone as intelligent as you should understand that."

Tom's face showed a slight look of surprise, then he clearly expressed interest. His voice was softer but still mysterious.

"You're right. Curiosity is a powerful tool if channeled correctly. What are you so curious about, Miss...?"

He cleared his throat. "Black. Ophelia Black. And I think that's all you need to know. And you're Tom Riddle, aren't you? Slytherin's rising star."

Tom's eyes lit up, and he could hardly contain his pride. "Rumors spread fast, it seems. But yes, it's me."

Ophelia said with a slight sarcasm, "The nonsense of chattering paintings. Rumors are not always true." It was obvious that Ophelia did not want anyone but herself to be 'special'. She wanted to despise what was being said about him, and this effort caused a moment of silence. Tom studied Ophelia more carefully this time. He watched her irises, one holding the oceans, the other the earth, and he understood the passion and depth they had in common. He left the table and descended the marble steps slowly, savoring the moment, and approached the young witch.

"You're different. More... pointed than the others."

Ophelia raised her eyebrows slightly. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Is that a compliment or a warning?”

Tom's smile grew wider, but this time it had a darker tone. "Maybe both."

Ophelia swallowed, trying not to show any emotion on her face. Her emotions were intertwined like nesting dolls. Whichever emotion she mentioned, there were rooms inside her that opened up to a completely different emotion.

Suddenly there was a soft knock at the office door. Ophelia started, and Tom casually turned his gaze to the door. There was no sign of Dippet's return, even if it would have put an end to their wandering curiosity about why they were here. Still, the brief moment did not break the electricity between them. Ophelia barely managed to tear her gaze away from Tom. "I think I'll talk to Headmaster Dippet another time. Have a good time, Mr. Riddle," she said, and turned and headed for the door.

Tom watched Ophelia leave the office, moment by moment. Dark curiosity and a touch of admiration gleamed in his eyes. He whispered her name back. “Ophelia…”

The young witch turned her head to the man one last time as she closed the door. She thought she would steal a glance, but she caught Tom looking at her. A momentary pause. But she closed the door without saying anything and left. Maybe she didn't know, but this encounter would be her turning point. She didn't know that she had caught the attention of the dark lord whose name would be feared to be spoken in the future. She didn't know that her rosy life would be contaminated by another life that deserved her last name.

The morning silence that filtered between the stone walls of Hogwarts was broken only by the sound of students' footsteps echoing through the corridors. The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, as always, held a magical uneasiness beneath the Gothic ceilings. The smell of old wooden furniture mingled with the thick books that bore the deep marks of age.

Ophelia Black was sitting elegantly on the edge of the desk. The girl, who carried the arrogant pride of Slytherin, had a calm but slightly mocking expression on her face as she looked around the classroom with her eyes, one brown and the other blue. Her long black hair formed a perfect wave on the shoulders of her robes; she was reviewing her handwritten notes. Minerva McGonagall, who was sitting next to her, seemed to be in another world entirely. She was leaning on her notebook filled with ritual writings and drawings of cats, filled with a quiet but obvious ambition. Minerva's hair was combed with the discipline we were accustomed to from her; her face bore a determination that reflected the passion she felt with her dream of becoming an animagus.

“Becoming an Animagus is no easy task,” Ophelia said, her delicate fingers stroking her quill. The tone in her voice was more like the mocking warning of a rival than that of a friend. “Most wizards fail when they try to attain the form they desire. And a creature as mysterious and insidious as a cat… A creative but absurd idea.”

Minerva raised her head and looked into Ophelia's eyes defiantly. A slight smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Absurd? It may be absurd in the eyes of those who seek to preserve the boundaries of magic, Ophelia. But not to me."

Ophelia raised her eyebrows slightly. She bowed her head slightly, as if appreciating Minerva's ambition, but she did not waver in her haughty stance. "You will stumble as you try to transcend the limits of magic, and I will be there, Minerva. With a helping hand and a half-mocking smile, of course," she said mischievously.

Just then, a few Slytherin students entered the classroom, and especially the group leader, Abraxas Malfoy, cast a condescending look at the Gryffindor students in the room. Abraxas's arrogant walk caught Ophelia's attention, but she was not pleased. Abraxas sneered as he approached Minerva and Ophelia.

“Ophelia Black and a Gryffindor,” he said, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the classroom. “This was worth getting up early to see. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sight that would put the Black family to shame.”

Minerva straightened up quickly and turned a sharp gaze on Abraxas. "Who I sit with is none of your business, Abraxas. Perhaps if you studied your magic a little, you would be better off doing something useful."

Abraxas threw back his head with a mocking laugh. “The bravery of Gryffindor,” he said scornfully. “But that bravery will not save you from me.”

Ophelia leaned on the corner of the table and looked at the boy coolly. The arrogant expression on her face was like a withered tree, devoid of any emotion. She slowly took out her wand and placed it on the table. The bright, crystal-studded wand reflected the light and shone menacingly.

“Malfoy,” Ophelia said, her voice authoritative. “If I have to put up with your stupidity and ignorance any longer, I will teach you a lesson you will never forget. Do you think you are worth it?”

The mocking expression on Abraxas' face was gone. Despite Ophelia's threatening demeanor, he approached her, aware of the responsibility that came with being the leader of the group. However, when he saw Ophelia point her staff at him without a moment's hesitation, Abraxas' friends retreated.

Ophelia shouted "Expelliarmus!" and Abraxas dropped his wand, hitting one of the desks. The sound of it falling echoed through the classroom as everyone began to pick their side. Some were ovating 'Black', some were ovating 'Malfoy'.

Just then, the classroom door was thrown open. The person who entered was different from everyone else. A tall, elegant, yet menacing young man… Tom Riddle. His robes were perfectly fitted and neat, just like his. His hair had strands of coal black that shone in the darkness. His eyes stabbed cold daggers at the students who suddenly froze in the classroom.

“Sit down!” he said, his voice calm but authoritative.

Ophelia forgot to breathe for a moment. The fact that Tom Riddle was here, in this class, surprised her more than anyone else. They had met a few days ago in the office of Headmaster Armando Dippet. In fact, Dippet had praised Tom as a bright wizard of the future to Albus Dumbledore one year ago and expressed his pride in him. But at that time, she could not have imagined that Tom would appear before her as a professor in this class.

As she slowly sat down, Ophelia looked up at Tom’s cold, flawless face. She wasn’t sure whether to admire or fear his rise to such a powerful position at such a young age.

“My name is Tom Riddle,” he began, his voice echoing around the room. Every word was clear and weighty, as if they were being carved into the stone walls of Hogwarts. “I am the new professor of your Defense Against the Dark Arts class this year. But if you think we will be teaching this class in an ordinary way, you are mistaken.”

The students in the class listened intently, some staring in curiosity, others hanging on to Tom's every word without blinking. Tom's lips curved slightly upward, a smile that carried not warmth but a threatening warning.

“The Dark Arts,” he said, his voice growing deeper. “The subject that many of you fear, but are afraid to understand. This subject is not to fight the darkness, but to understand and embrace it.”

A murmur rose in the classroom, but a single look from Tom quickly quieted the murmur.

“The allure of the Dark Arts is great,” he continued. “I will teach you how not to fear them, but to master them.”

At this moment, a Hufflepuff student raised his hand shyly. His name was Taurus; he had a round face and light hair, and with an expression mixed with excitement and fear, he began to speak. “Professor Riddle… And what is the most effective defense against dark magic?”

Tom turned slowly toward Taurus, narrowing his eyes. The very movement made the student feel a lump in his throat. “An effective defense,” he said, his voice deep, “can only be mounted by one who understands the nature of darkness. Therefore, Taurus, you must concern yourself not only with spells, but with the minds of dark wizards. Grindelwald, perhaps.”

A Ravenclaw student raised her hand in deep thought. Her name was Claudia; her long pink hair fell around her shoulders, her eyes sharp with intelligence. “Professor,” she said in carefully chosen words, “Grindelwald’s place in the magical world is still debated. If dark magic is so powerful and effective, can we use it both defensively and offensively?”

Taking a few steps towards Claudia, he spoke. "It is the test of a true wizard not to be carried away by the temptation of dark magic," he began, and continued. Although he seemed to be scanning the class, it was nothing more than feigned glances to catch a glimpse of Ophelia.

Tom Riddle had meticulously answered the students' questions and had managed to captivate them with every word. The voice of this young man who dominated the room was etched into the stone walls of Hogwarts. His eyes were roaming over everyone like a snake, but it was clearly felt that his gaze frequently shifted to Ophelia. Ophelia could not feel comfortable under those gazes and tried to understand why Riddle was constantly paying attention to her. Ophelia had noticed Tom's furtive glances. Her heartbeat quickened with excitement. Every word in Tom's speech felt like it was addressed only to her. The darkness in Tom's eyes was both threatening and fascinating at the same time.

“Now…” said Tom, placing his hands gently on the podium. “This year, in addition to classes, I would like to start a club where you will all have the opportunity to showcase and develop your magical abilities. I am thinking of calling it the Dueling Club.”

A buzz went up in the classroom. Most of the students were looking at each other with excitement and curiosity. The idea was met with great interest among the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, while the Hufflepuffs seemed a little more cautious. The Slytherins, especially Abraxas and his group, were discussing the idea with sly grins on their faces.

But Ophelia reacted differently than the other students. Her face showed surprise. Her eyes widened. Because this was a plan she had brought up in Principal Dippet's office at the beginning of the year. Ophelia had thought that such a club would be a great opportunity to improve the students' abilities in defensive magic, and she had brought it up with the principal. However, Dippet had not given her a definitive answer. Now, it was both surprising and unnerving to see Tom Riddle express the same idea.

Tom’s eyes remained on Ophelia as he watched the students’ reactions. The expression in his eyes was one of challenge. It was as if he was deliberately trying to increase her surprise.

“This club will not only hone your Defense Against the Dark Arts skills,” Tom continued. “You will also learn how to strategize in real duels. For a wizard’s value lies not in his knowledge alone, but in his ability to use it.”

Many students were already eager to join the club. But Ophelia was confused. How had Tom Riddle found out about her idea? Apart from Headmaster Dippet and Minerva, she hadn't shared it with anyone. Of course, she was sure as hell that Minerva wasn't an incorrigible spy. A nagging suspicion suddenly rose in her heart.

Minerva nudged the young witch's arm and asked what was going on. She couldn't make sense of how an idea shared only between three of them could be included in a fourth person's mind. Ophelia looked at her friend and said, "I'll wait, Minerva." said "When I go to her after class, everything will come to light." But waiting for the class to end had the greatest effect on the young witch's mental torture.

After the lesson, the classroom emptied out, and students filed out, excitedly talking about the club Tom Riddle had just announced. But Ophelia decided to stay. With a mixture of anger and curiosity in her eyes, she walked to the front of the classroom, next to Tom. Tom was writing something on his notebook at the moment, but he remained calm, as if he knew Ophelia was approaching.

“Professor,” Ophelia said, her voice controlled but slightly shaky. “I want to ask you something.”

Tom looked up. The cold gleam in his eyes made Ophelia flinch. “Of course, Miss Black,” he said with a calm smile. “I’m all ears.”

Taking a deep breath, Ophelia spoke. “The Dueling Club idea… It was something I discussed with Headmaster Dippet. How did you find out about it? Did the Headmaster tell you about it?”

Tom paused for a moment, then his smile grew a little deeper. “The club idea?” he asked, his voice so natural and convincing that for a moment Ophelia thought she might be mistaken. “What an interesting coincidence. I had no idea you were talking to the principal. But it turns out that intelligent minds can think along similar lines.”

Ophelia looked into Tom's eyes. She searched for honesty in his every word, but she saw nothing more than a cold-blooded mask on the young professor's face. Her suspicions grew, but she could not figure out how Tom knew.

As Ophelia left the classroom, Tom silently stared after her, as if satisfied with her confusion. He hadn't given Ophelia any notice, but the truth was simple.

In fact, he had first heard of Ophelia at the beginning of the year from Albus Dumbledore. It was a moment when he had applied for the second time to the school for the DADA class, when he felt he had to strike up a satisfactory conversation to convince Dumbledore. The professor had praised Ophelia's intelligence and talents when he spoke of her. But this was a kind of red flag in Tom's eyes. Someone like him was always alert to potential threats.

When they met that night in Principal Dippet's office, he had already known that Ophelia would be there. Just before the young witch arrived, he had been examining the headmaster's desk and had found a notebook filled with Ophelia's ideas, which had intrigued him and inspired him to read the notes about her. A young witch with a strategic mind, determination, and leadership qualities. Tom saw this as both an opportunity and a challenge.

When Ophelia entered the office and met him, their ideas had come together. Riddle had not only read the notes Ophelia had left on Dippet's desk, but had also cast a light Legilimency spell on her during their conversation. It wasn't exactly mind reading. He had simply noticed her thoughts and feelings on the surface.

His ultimate goal was to identify students who might be prone to the dark arts and recruit them into his plans. However, Ophelia Black was a special case that caught Riddle's attention. Riddle knew that Ophelia was a clever and powerful witch. But before he could fully win her over, he had to test her loyalty and her aptitude for the dark arts. Dueling Club was not just a game. It was the first step in Riddle's selection of potential allies and enemies. And Ophelia was at the center of this game.

[tixdixl]

I need my 日本語を話せられない TWST friends (non-Japanese speaking) to know that my buddy who is an L2 Japanese language teacher (with an MA in East Asian Studies) and I (who is an L2 Japanese learner with an MA in Sociolinguistics) have been dying over this colloquial grammatical construction that we keep seeing in the voice lines of History/Flight and Alchemy lessons: 朝から (asa kara)

Neither of us can figure out how to properly translate this construction, and every time TWST adds a new line with it, or we come across a line we hadn't see before, we immediately message one another in our confusion and have a conniption over it. We had questioned whether or not it was an example of "anime dialect", but after finding plenty of examples of it being used on Japanese twitter, we realized that it is definitely a colloquialism that's used in everyday speech.

For discussion purposes, keep in mind 朝 (asa) means "morning" and から (kara) is the particle causing the translation issues.

The thing you have to understand is that in Japanese classrooms and in Japanese grammar books - including Japanese grammar books FOR native speakers the particle construction ____から (kara)____ま��(made) functions like "from ___ until ____" in English.

Except that's not how its being used in TWST. The まで portion of the particle construction never shows up in any of the examples that I've pulled from TWST.

Examples include (but are not limited to):

Cater (History): 朝からいい感じ (asa kara ii kanji)

いい = "good"

感じ = "feeling" (like a vibe or emotion)

Official Localization: "Off to a good start today!"

Cater (History): 朝から頑張らね (asa kara ganbara ne)

頑張らね ≈ "let's do well"

Official Localization: "Early bird gets the worm, I guess."*

*Footnote: While the translation here isn't literal, this line makes me openly question if 朝から is actually a set up for an idiomatic phrase in Japanese but I will discuss more later...

Jade (History): 朝から元気でそね (asa kara genki desu ne)

元気 = "in good health" or "well"

です= formal, present tense of the closest equivalent of "to be"

ね = equivalent tag is "right?" or "yeah?"

Official Localization: "You have a lot of energy in the morning."**

**Footnote: This localization is just painfully off from the intended meaning? But we're keeping it here to prove a point.

Malleus (History): 朝から退屈だ

退屈 = Tedium or boredom

だ = informal past tense of です

Official Localization: "It's early, and I'm already bored."

(A fun side note: This exact quote was found verbatim on Japanese twitter when we were searching for language samples.)

Sebek (Alchemy): 朝から再ないこだな

再ない ≈ not again

再ないこだな ≈ its the same again /its repeating (with a declarative verb conjugation, implying that the audience already understands and agrees)***

***Footnote: I kind of get the sense that he's basically saying "It's another morning and it's the same shit again", but not literally. Because he is clearly using a negative declaration here and the implication of the repetition "from the morning, its the same again" kind of gives me the reading similar to "Not this shit again".

Official Localization: "Someone awoke in a foul mood."

Additional translator's note: Because the subject is repeatedly dropped from each example here, and the only ones that indicate any inclusion of an outside party are Cater's second example and Jade's example because of the inclusion of the pragmatic tag, I am operating under the assumption that each student is likely speaking about themselves. This creates a bit of conflict in my understanding when compared to the localizations, because the localizers keep making a referential to an outside party ("someone").

You can tell from the official localizations that they are localized in such a way that its seamless for English speakers, but the translations often aren't or can't be literal. The localizers also repeatedly use idiomatic phrases in their translations where contrastingly, the predicate of the sentence (after the time placement) don't necessarily use phrases that I recognize as being used in idiomatic contexts. This creates an issue since we can't use them as a reference for being able to figure out what から does/how it functions in the sentence as a grammatical element that also changes the meaning of the sentence. The closest thing we've been able to guess about the use of から in these lines is that it might mean "From" or "Because of", which we pulled from one of the Grammar Books that she uses to help teach. The chart can be seen here:

But if that's the case, Cater's second line doesn't exactly make sense? Nor does Sebek's line? And for that reason, I have to wonder whether or not 朝から is used as a formulaic set up and if that set up is idiomatic in nature.

Both of us for literal months have been scrounging the internet in hopes that we can find any sort of clue as to how to understand this construction and/or to identify whether or not its specifically a colloquial usage to signify an idiomatic phrase is being used. One of the big flaws though is we haven't exactly been able to find any evidence on sites like Word Reference forums of the use of から in any potentially idiomatic way, and the localizations suggest that it could either be idiomatic or literal. We also haven't found any other site that uses or references から without まで.

At this point, it's entirely possible I'm overthinking it? But I'm genuinely confused and want to better understand it so I can improve my overall Japanese comprehension.

I honestly just wanted to share this because it's been both a fun and also frustrating learning journey, and also because I'm hoping maybe there's another person out here who 日本語と英語を話せまそ that might also recognize or know this construction and helps us understand it better. ^^;

[haru-dipthong]

How I feel about formal speech in Japanese, as a halfie 🇦🇺🇯🇵

How much are one’s values and philosophy forced to be tied to the language you speak? Having grown up in Australia, I live in a culture where there’s no hierarchy-based formality built into the language. Our service workers never call us “sir” or “ma’am” (in fact it feels very off-putting whenever you get a usamerican waiter who does). Calling out to a perfect stranger on the street is done with a “hey, mate” or “hey, excuse me!”. Our speech patterns don’t change too much depending on our familiarity with whoever we’re talking to - and we certainly don’t have separate verb conjugations depending on formality.

Contrast this with Japanese which has several different speech registers depending on familiarity and hierarchy of the person you’re talking to.

Red: Keigo. Used by service staff. Used by low ranking staff to high ranking bosses in workplace situations.

Orange: Formal speech (sentence ending ます, です, ません, etc). Used by younger people when speaking to older people. Used by almost everyone when speaking to a stranger off the street.

Green: Semi-formal speech (sentence ending っす, しないです, etc). Used by people around the same age when speaking to someone they have only recently met, or to work acquaintances and similar.

Blue: Casual speech (sentence ending naked adjectives and nouns, だ, plain form verbs). Used by everyone to their own family. Used between good friends, even if one is a fair amount older. Used by bosses to their employees, teachers to their students.

(Please note this is graph was made by a me, a non-native japanese speaker, and is not backed up by any research. It’s based purely on vibes and its primary purpose is to assist in the explanation of my feelings about being australian-japanese. Also note that in reality there are not hard lines between each of these registers or strict definitions. If this were more accurate it would be more like a gradient)

I don’t want to be seen as rude, so when I’m in Japan I make an effort to speak in a formal register in certain situations (e.g. speaking to service workers, strangers on the street). I’m ok with the far left side of the graph. However, the purple dotted section is the part I have the hardest time with: people around my age who I am not (yet) friends with. As an Australian, I immediately want to speak in a casual register with anyone who has friend-potential — in my culture it’s polite and respectful to treat people like a friend from the start. Unfortunately, this has the reverse meaning in Japanese culture - it’s polite to keep people at arm’s length until you know they’re comfortable being closer with you. To use casual speech with an acquaintance carries an undertone of imposing a friendship on them that they may not want.

Culture and language are intimately linked, but is it possible to speak a language while being informed by a different cultural worldview? Is it possible to speak Japanese with both feet firmly planted in Australian culture? Does doing such a thing transform it into a different language altogether?

It’s certainly possible to speak English with my feet in Australian culture, and I would say that Australian English is a different dialect (with respect to formality registers) when compared to British English or US English. In fact I think US English is more similar to Japanese than it is to Australian English, if we’re just looking at formality.

A lot of what makes this a hard question is how homogenous Japan is, and how people in the Japanese diaspora (e.g. me and my family) don’t have a meaningfully different culture from mainland Japan, unlike other diasporas like Italian Americans. Since basically everyone who speaks Japanese is culturally and ethnically Japanese, the question of separating some of the cultural aspects from the language becomes almost unthinkable, and I would like to shake this unthinkable foundation of thought a bit.

Also, language is a collaborative thing. If I’m the only one speaking single-formality-register Japanese, I’m not speaking a new dialect, I’m just speaking normal Japanese in a weird way. It would take multiple people to understand the nuance of what I mean (not rude, just casual) for my single-register manner of speech to go from speaking normal Japanese rudely to speaking Australian Japanese normally. If I was to somehow assemble a bunch of Japanese-Australians raised in Australia, who learned Japanese with their family as their only input source (casual register only), would we be speak Japanese or some kind of new thing - Australian Japanese?

I wanna speak how I would normally speak in English, when I’m speaking in Japanese. But to do so carries subtext that I’m not trying to convey. If I want to speak without loading my speech with additional subtext I have to conform to the norms. But to do that would be to temporarily cast aside my cultural values on egalitarianism and respect!

So what’s more important - being true to myself and culture when speaking Japanese, or conveying the meaning I intend? Is it the responsibility of Japanese people to understand that people of different cultural backgrounds will speak their language, or is it my responsibility to conform to the way the language is spoken?