A Little Respect Goes a Long Way
By Stephanie Lin (Stuyvesant High School)
It’s intimidating, walking into a new school. You meet new people and make new friends, but it’s a
whole different atmosphere. Especially, if it’s high school. It’s all made worse by the fact that you’re also
taking a new language. For me, I was nervous, but at the same time, really excited by the prospect of
learning Japanese. It seemed like such an elegant language, with its complicated stroke order and many
different pronunciations. As I walked into my Japanese classroom, I was greeted by a graceful woman in a
cardigan with her hair slicked back into a ponytail. “Hajimemashite,” she said as she bowed. I looked
around nervously, hoping that the other pairs of eyes that were staring at me from the desks in the
classroom could help, but they all returned with blank stares. I blushed, gave a quick bow, and ran to sit
down in a seat.

It was later on that I learned that it was completely natural, what she did. It was a standard in Japan
for people to bow when meeting one another. It symbolized respect. We were taught how to bow properly,
and “Kiritsu, Rei, Ohayou Gozaimasu!” became part of everyday class. At first, it felt unnatural, but it
gradually became a routine I was proud to participate in. It was different from our New York lifestyle,
where people bump into you and walk away without apologizing. As I continued learning Japanese, I also
learned more and more about their culture. Respect is such a big part of their lifestyle. Whether it’s bowing
or taking off shoes before entering a building, it all goes back to respect. Punctuality is important,
prolonged eye contact is rude, nodding is imperative; my head swirled with all the formalities and customs
of their culture. But at the same time, it was remarkable. The culture puts so much emphasis on respect and
responsibility; it wasn’t shocking to find out that their crime rate is lower than the crime rate in all other
developed countries.

It really put things in perspective. How had I treated my mother that morning? It probably involved
yelling at her and complaining. In retrospect, I was ashamed. How could I have treated my own mother that
way? My mother, who moved from Taiwan just to give us a better life. My mother, who sacrificed
everything for my sister and me. I would do everything to make sure I treated her better from then on. I
would do everything to make sure I treated everyone better. I would come to school with a smile on my
face. I would respect my teachers. I would respect my family and friends. New Yorkers might be a little
rude, but if Japanese people could live with such an emphasis on respect, I could try it as well.

As I became immersed in the language during class, I also tried to incorporate more and more of their
customs into my life. Nodding is natural; it shows that you are paying attention to the speaker. I started to
listen to my friends and family more, instead of talking about myself. I took modesty and being humble
more seriously, as it is a polite response to a compliment in Japanese culture. Respecting personal space
became a must if I did not know a person well. Politeness and respect are very important to others, but in
the end, it is important to learn how to treat people nicely for your own benefit. I became happier, I felt that
my relationships with people became better, and ultimately, I felt more satisfied with life. It was amazing.

Every day as I say, “Kiritsu, Rei, Sayounara, mata ashita,” to my sensei, a wave of gratitude washes over
me. She introduced me to such an incredible lifestyle and culture.

As it is, a little respect here and there goes a long way.

Works Cited
“Japan - Cultural Etiquette - E Diplomat.” Japan - Cultural Etiquette - E Diplomat. EDiplomat, n.d. Web.

01 Jan. 2014.

“Social Conventions.” Japanese Manners & Cultural Norms. Inside Japan Tours, n.d. Web. 01 Jan. 2014.

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Effortless Grace: A Hero in Two Hemispheres
Charles Beers (Huntington High School)
There are a few moments in a baseball game that can’t be described as anything less than perfect: the
crack of the bat to hit that game-winning home run in the bottom of the ninth; the last-minute dive by a
runner to safely avoid the tag of a catcher at home plate. But perhaps the greatest and rarest of all of these is
robbing a batter of a homerun. Players have made their fortunes scaling outfield walls and taking long fly
balls away from the outfield bleachers with spectacular grace. If there was ever a player that had mastered
this sacred art of fielding, it was Ichiro.

Ichiro Suzuki was a name I frequently heard throughout my Little League career. As I sat in my
dugout eagerly anticipating my next at-bat, I occasionally got pieces of advice from my coach. “Hit it like
Ichiro.” Ichiro has never been known for his power. His speed, however, made any connection between ball
and bat a threat to the opposing team. A routine ground-ball to the pitcher’s mound could turn into a single
in the blink of an eye. No matter how bleak the outlook seemed, Ichiro had determination I had never seen
before and will likely never see again. His probable Hall of Fame career has featured some incredible
statistics: 10 dominant years with 200 or more hits which was deemed impossible by baseball experts
around the globe (www.baseball-reference.com) and 2001 Most Valuable Player award in his first year in
the Major Leagues. Every time I struck out in Little League, I always remembered how Ichiro would
always bounce back. With his perseverance in mind, I never gave up.

It was impossible to describe my excitement in 2012, when the front page of the newspaper
announced that Ichiro was becoming a Yankee. To me, it was a match made in heaven: one of my favorite
players on my favorite team. Ichiro was much more than simple statistics and awards. He served as a
symbol of perseverance and hope to both the United States and his home country of Japan. In 2011, Suzuki
donated 100 million yen to the Japanese Red Cross in order to aid earthquake relief efforts, motivating the
Mariners to donate profits from the first six home games (sports.espn.go.com). Additionally, when Ichiro
was traded to the Yankees, he signed his equipment and donated the proceeds to 26 different charities
across New York (kenthimmel.blogspot.com). I realized then that one of baseball’s greatest players was
also one of the world’s greatest international heroes.

Ichiro settled in well with the Yankees in 2012, leading the team to the postseason with his stellar
performance at the plate. However, my story with Ichiro didn’t end there. During the summer of 2013, I
was offered a chance to interview relief pitcher David Robertson for Newsday and explore Yankee Stadium
as a reporter. Words cannot describe my energy as I sprinted to the ballpark, took my stadium pass to the
stadium, and followed my guide through the maze of hallways that held endless secrets.

After hours of exploration, it was finally time to step onto the field. The entire team was out for
batting practice. Up at bat was none other than Ichiro himself, looking as confident as ever as he scattered
hits all over the ballpark.

I watched with bated breath as he walked back towards the dugout where I was sitting and looked me
in the eye with a smile on his face. He didn’t speak English well and he had never seen me before, but the
way he shook my hand and welcomed me into this unfamiliar place said enough. That same day, Ichiro hit
a monstrous home run that helped the Yankees win the game, and is a moment in my life I will never forget.

Ichiro’s kindness and compassion are inspiring. He is a symbol of Japan in more ways than one. He is
tranquil and patient at the plate, using precision and grace in every at-bat. His generosity has transcended
his native country and he has become the embodiment of international charity. Most of all, Ichiro is the
embodiment of perseverance, never giving up on or off the field. For this reason, Ichiro is an inspiration
and I try to emulate his effortless grace. When assignments seem insurmountable, when exams keep piling
up, and when I feel like caving in to the pressure, I think of #31 dashing to make the seemingly impossible
catch, and keep my eye on the ball.

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