The Path to Becoming a Demon Instructor Who Dodges Bamboo Shoots

Spring is the season of new beginnings. In Sweden, you can get a regular driver's license from the age of 18, just like in Japan. What's different from Japan is that you can start practicing driving from the age of 17. A person with a regular driver's license can accompany and supervise the driving practice of a person aiming to obtain a license on public roads. What a challenging system! For my 11th-grade son, who will soon turn 18, I attended a 3.5-hour intensive course for driving practice supervisors at a driving school. It seems that taking the written and practical tests while driving both at home and at the driving school is much more efficient in terms of both time and money. A mandatory test is also required: driving on ice, unique to northern countries. I wonder if they do it on something like an ice-skating rink. I'm very curious. At the driving school, I was also thoroughly taught the responsibilities of a supervisor. "Don't panic, don't yell, be patient. This is a collaborative effort with the learner driver!" Long ago, I also attended driving school and remember how I felt clutching the steering wheel nervously. I made sure to avoid becoming a mean, ogre-like instructor. I was also a beginner 🔰

As I was driving, wondering if the bamboo shoot season was over in Japan, suddenly, memories of my grandfather and bamboo shoots came flooding back. At that time, I was probably in the first or second grade of elementary school. My grandfather was a temple priest, a quiet man who had experienced internment in Siberia after the war. He often spent time alone in a corner room of the temple, and there was a bit of a distance between grandfather and grandchild, or rather, I felt I shouldn't disturb him. Only during the time for watching grand sumo in the evening and dinner did my grandfather descend to the bustling lower world where his family was. That's how it felt.

One spring evening at dinner, my grandfather said, "For some reason, a single bamboo shoot sprouted in a corner of the temple grounds quite far from the bamboo grove. I was so impressed that it grew there that I went to check on it every day, but today it was knocked down." He spoke sadly. My heart rate suddenly soared. I hid behind my mother, and after a while, I finally confessed to my mother that my cousins and I had been playing and had kicked down that bamboo shoot, which had grown to about one meter. My mother immediately said, "Oh, Grandpa, it seems Kumiko and the others did it." (My inner voice: Are you telling everyone now?! (# ﾟДﾟ))) My grandfather paused for a moment, then laughed and said gently, "Oh, was that it? It's okay, it's okay." At those words, I started sobbing and hiccuping. The adults around me were probably laughing. That's my bittersweet memory of bamboo shoots. My grandfather's heart, who visited every day and cherished the growth of the stray bamboo shoot. My past self had no way of knowing such a heart. …Ah, I was a beginner 🔰….

Indeed. Being taught with a smile and kindness resonated and remained with me more than being yelled at loudly or being blamed.

To avoid going down the path of becoming an ogre instructor, I always keep my grandfather's bamboo shoot in my heart. It's May, and it's time for "Let's Drive 🔰" with a beginner supervisor and a beginner driver 🚙🍃

I hope you all stay well and healthy!