HAWAI'I WAYS, HAWAI'I DAYS
Real-world speech lesson worked best
By Michael Okihiro
Special to The Advertiser
When I attended the University of Hawai'i in the 1940s, one of the most dreaded courses was Speech 100, the beginner course in spoken English. If you graduated from Punahou or the so-called "English Standard Schools" like Roosevelt, you didn't have to worry about Speech 100, but for those of us who had gone to ordinary public schools, we had no chance. Had to take the course.
First, the teachers gave us a short oral examination. "What is your name?" "Masaru, but everybody call me Mike." "Where do you live?" "Kane'ohe." "Tell us a little about yourself." "I wen go to Ben Pahkah in Kane'ohe till high school. Heeia Japanis School, too. Den my maddah wen sen me do MPI because she no like me come a fishaman like my faddah." "Alright. Thank you. Speech 100."
Now Speech 100 wasn't bad, because there was nothing to study. We read poems and short stories. I got acquainted with Edgar Allen Poe's "Raven" and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's "Song of Hiawatha," and stuff like that.
Every day, someone had to recite in front of the class, and every day, the teacher would try to have us say "this," not "dis," and "when and where," not "wen an we-ya." But it was hard to talk like that when we were with friends sitting under the tree in front of Hemenway Hall, and worse yet when I went home to Kane'ohe. I had never heard of pidgin until then. I thought they were saying that I talking "pigeon" like the birds my uncle raised.
As I was saying, Speech 100 not too bad because no need study, and I had plenty enough to do with my pre-med courses. Second semester I was promoted to Speech 101 and my sophomore year, Speech 102. By then, I was talking like a typical UH student, or so I thought. But at the end of the year, I got a kick in the pants. Mrs. Wong told me I flunked Speech 102 and had to repeat it. First time ever I flunked something since first grade at Ben Parker. And she reminded me of something we all knew by then. If you don't pass Speech 102, you don't graduate!!
In 1945, I turned 18 and was drafted into the Army a few months later. The second atom bomb was dropped on Nagasaki on the very day that I was inducted, so I always tell my friends that Hirohito quit when he saw me coming.
For the next two years, I led the life of an Army buck private with haole soldiers at Fort Lewis, Wash. And — you know something? — insidiously, unknowingly and effortlessly, I began to talk like my haole buddies.
In 1947, I came back to UH and back to Speech 102. After the first semester, Miss Margaret Awamura said I passed! Can you imagine that? After 2 1/2 years of college, the noose around my neck was gone. I was free. I could graduate from college. I was one of Maggie's first — although admittedly small — success stories, even before she became Mrs. Daniel Inouye.
Well, that was a long time ago. Some of you may think that I'm exaggerating, but passing the speech classes was really one big headache for many of us. It changed some lives.
A 442nd vet friend started at UH after the war but transferred to the University of Kansas City because the same Mrs. Wong flunked him in Speech 100 and told him he probably wouldn't graduate. He's now a successful dentist. Another friend was going to become a teacher but couldn't get into the College of Education when he flunked the speech test. He transferred out of education to become an accounting major and eventually became the chief financial officer at UH.
And nowadays, I hear that pidgin English is not that bad a thing after all.
This is a funny world.
Michael Okihiro still lives in Kane'ohe.
Hawai'i Ways, Hawai'i Days is a column of essays by readers on what makes Hawai'i unique. Articles and photos submitted to The Advertiser may be published or distributed in print, electronic or other forms.
