My Japanese school closed and I don’t know how to feel

Kodomo no Ie was a small Japanese preschool and adjunct supplementary school located in San Gabriel, CA. The organization, founded in 1987 by Kazuko Umehata, has served as a space to celebrate Japanese language and culture for 37 years. In June 2024, Kodomo no Ie closed its doors permanently. As the San Gabriel Valley community bids farewell to a cultural epicenter for Shin-Nisei Japanese Americans, I reflect about the place that I dedicated my Saturday mornings to for nearly ten years.

My journey with Kodomo no Ie was an atypical one within my small community of Shin-Nisei Japanese Americans. My earliest attendance at the school was as an infant. My mother took me to a class where she was introduced to a community of other mothers who had immigrated from Japan to the United States. Many of my peers would continue to attend Kodomo no Ie’s well-established preschool program. I however, did not return to Kodomo no Ie until age eight, when I began supplemental Japanese schooling through the Saturday program.

The Saturday learning curriculum blended language and cultural activities to teach Japanese as a heritage language to students. The topic-based learning style offered me a unique and practical experience that bonded me to my Japanese-American identity and peers. From preparing takuan with the massive Daikon grown in the schoolyard garden, to celebrating every Setsubun with mamemaki, there were lessons dedicated to every Japanese custom one could think of, and colorful experiences to remember them by.

As a child and adolescent, I was always reluctant to go to Japanese school. I despised the extra homework, and was annoyed that class ate into time that I could have spent socializing with public school friends or participating in sports. At the time, the cultural activities and fun times spent playing with my peers during recess could not seem to outweigh the stress of studying. Learning Japanese was challenging, it required significantly more effort than my regular public school work. Stuttering during popcorn reading and struggling to recall Kanji during tests was frustrating. To add insult to injury, I was painfully aware that my Japanese would never reach the level it would be at if I was living in Japan. Japanese school felt like an extra unrewarding thing in my life that constantly ate away at my energy. I often questioned why my mother was so strict about my attendance and complained endlessly.

After leaving Japanese school and experiencing other aspects of my life, I now recognize how important the Saturdays that I spent learning at Kodomo no Ie were to my personal development. My heritage language education has had a profound effect on my cultural identity. Like many other multiethnic children, my earliest perceptions of cultural identity were confusing and often unpleasant. In public school, my ambiguous looks, unusual name, and cultural interests prompted questions from teachers and peers that I often struggled to justify. 

Attending Japanese school immersed me into a community of peers who, like me, wrote their multicultural names in Katakana, made summer pilgrimages to visit their obaachans, and cherished Japanese shows and games. Most importantly, there was a mutual understanding among students: we did not owe each other explanations. Learning to speak, read, and write Japanese within this environment, alongside Japanese-American peers, has afforded me a lifetime of practical language skills, the confidence to embrace my cultural identity, and a sense of belonging to the Japanese American community.

I understand now that the goal of heritage language education institutions like Kodomo no Ie is not to have students perfect their native tongue, but to keep culture alive in second-generation immigrant communities and beyond. My heritage language education was core to developing my cultural identity because language is the very essence of culture. Most people use language as our primary method of expression; conveying cultural values in conversation and simultaneously shaping the way that we process our surroundings. 

When I listen and speak in Japanese, I also think in Japanese, embracing unique values that do not underline American or English-speaking cultures in the same way. In Japanese, there are semantic nuances that signify respect for nature and elders, expressions that embody ikigai, and particles that indicate social awareness. By participating in the Japanese language, I also participate in uniquely Japanese forms of philosophy, spirituality, and social harmony–all of which are pillars of Japanese culture.

The preservation of language and other elements of culture holds unique significance in the Japanese American community due to the needs of our multi-generational makeup. Maintaining cultural spaces for Japanese Americans is essential due to the incarceration of Japanese Americans during World War II and the historical erasure of Japanese culture from the United States. Preserving culture is also important for newer generations of Japanese immigrants and their descendants. As the Japanese American community becomes increasingly multiethnic, nourishing our ever-complex identities is vital. Maintaining spaces for cultural enrichment gives individuals the opportunity to better understand themselves and engage with a community greater than themselves. For many Shin-Niseis like myself, partaking in Japanese culture through Japanese school is an essential part of our Japanese American experience.

Due to the reality that most Japanese Americans learn Japanese as a secondary or minority language, there is a precise need for heritage language education centers.  More established schools like campuses belonging to the Japanese government-subsidized Asahi Gakuen system seem to be more prominent in the community despite serving a different purpose for Japanese internationals and native speakers. To my knowledge, there are not many Japanese heritage education institutions in Southern California, making Kodomo no Ie one of the few of its kind. In a community where opportunities to learn Japanese as a heritage language are scant, the closure of one school can mean a closed opportunity for dozens of children who may otherwise have attended.

Kodomo no Ie’s closure brings me sadness and uncertainty. My studentship and volunteership at Japanese school were my only involvement in the Japanese American community. To see the space that hosted my cultural experiences become empty and dull is unsettling. I wonder how many children in the San Gabriel Valley and surrounding areas will go through life without experiencing Japanese school because they did not have access to an education center that fit their needs. I am realizing that spaces to celebrate Japanese culture are truly just as fragile as they are important. Perhaps Kodomo no Ie’s closure should be a lesson to us all, to support our cultural institutions and to cherish our community spaces while they are alive. If it’s daiji to us we must daiji ni suru!