So every day, I would sit down with a small notebook that I got just for that purpose and wrote down the same character over and over. Up to down, left to right, I would write rows upon rows of one kana until I was no longer thinking about the individual strokes and writing it became automatic. Then I moved on to the second. There was something intoxicatingly satisfying about looking back at the pages of the notebook filled to the brim with kana, almost like a visual representation of the progress I had made. Fast forward 15 months, and I was sitting in art class. My school did student exchanges with the town’s sister city in Japan, and one Japanese girl who did the exchange was in my art class. I had never spoken face to face with someone in Japanese before, and although I was confident enough in my ability at the time to have a conversation, my shyness prevented me from it. So instead, I wrote a small note in kana, and silently passed it to her. I don’t remember what it said, but I do remember the overwhelming feeling of pride I got when she wrote me a note back, also in kana, and that I was able to read it. Those 2 weeks I spent learning to write kana were the most critical two weeks in my now 3-year long endeavor of learning Japanese. Think of all the native material in history that has ever been, is being, and will be written in Japanese. Think of all the novels, the comics, the newspapers, the online articles, the movie subtitles, the street signs. The notes from a stranger who doesn’t speak your language.
So every day, I would sit down with a small notebook that I got just for that purpose and wrote down the same character over and over. Up to down, left to right, I would write rows upon rows of one kana until I was no longer thinking about the individual strokes and writing it became automatic. Then I moved on to the second. There was something intoxicatingly satisfying about looking back at the pages of the notebook filled to the brim with kana, almost like a visual representation of the progress I had made. Fast forward 15 months, and I was sitting in art class. My school did student exchanges with the town’s sister city in Japan, and one Japanese girl who did the exchange was in my art class. I had never spoken face to face with someone in Japanese before, and although I was confident enough in my ability at the time to have a conversation, my shyness prevented me from it. So instead, I wrote a small note in kana, and silently passed it to her. I don’t remember what it said, but I do remember the overwhelming feeling of pride I got when she wrote me a note back, also in kana, and that I was able to read it. Those 2 weeks I spent learning to write kana were the most critical two weeks in my now 3-year long endeavor of learning Japanese. Think of all the native material in history that has ever been, is being, and will be written in Japanese. Think of all the novels, the comics, the newspapers, the online articles, the movie subtitles, the street signs. The notes from a stranger who doesn’t speak your language.