It's not how they do it in America.

After two days of intense entrance examinations, here they stood. An auditorium full of parents--parents representing their sons and daughters, all 1000 of them who had just completed those exams vying for one of the only 200 available positions in Chiba's premiere middle school--all of them watching and waiting for the results.

It's not how they do it in America.

With a few quick words, the curtain was lifted from the stage and the mob surged forward--Tokyo's salary-men, office ladies, and housewives--all pushing toward the large white lists, hanging there much more solidly than paper is supposed to hang. Hopefully, their child's name was somewhere on this list.

It's not how they do it in America, I can guarantee. There they simply mail you your results, typically weeks later.

But here, it's instant gratification. Cries of joy came from many parents who could rest with the knowledge that the long and arduous road through Japan's private education system--ending, ultimately in acceptance to a top university--would continue; at least until it was time for high school entrance exams. Other parents sulked off quietly, back toward the wintery wind blowing in from the gaping auditorium doors.

And there I stood, in the background, unimportant, ignored, a fly on the stone wall.

But as I said, it's not how they do it in America, and a fly, I truly was not.

The dean of the entire Matsudo Junior High and High School system, a man I had never met, was also, in the midst of the chaos and tears, a fly on the wall. He was however, not observing the wave of human beings straining their eyes and adjusting their spectacles as they tried to spot their family name. No, he was observing me.

Quietly, John was pulled aside by the vice principal, who informed him that my collared shirt and tie, covered by a grey sweater, needed to be tucked in. The vice principal, of course, was informed by none other than the top dog himself, the dean, who had spotted me a mile away.

It's not how they do it in America.

I had made my formal introduction to the vice principal not but an hour prior, and yet he couldn't ask me himself--nay, couldn't tell me himself--to tuck in my shirt-tails. Which, excuse me, are worn out in this semi-formal style.

But, then again, it's not how they do it in America.

Truly, I can understand how some blacks must have felt, in a room surrounded by white men and women. Unsure if they are all staring at him, criticizing his clothing or his hair, perhaps it's his smile--not big enough, or too big--or the firmness of his handshake. Perhaps it's the way he's standing. Perhaps it's nothing at all. Perhaps it's simply him.

Perhaps he can't even stand there, alone, against a wall, doing nothing more than respectfully observing an event he was invited to, hands clasped behind his back, without being accosted for something he could never have anticipated.

What's next?

The unknown is what is the worst. Tomorrow it might be my earrings, or the bracelet on my left arm. Maybe tomorrow it will be the ongoing issue of my hair, unresolved as of yet, but of course "dirty" and unwanted. Cut it. You know you have to cut it, right?

Maybe Monday my jeans won't be blue enough, or they will be too blue.

Maybe I have no idea what will happen next, what they won't like about me.

It's the unexpected that has me tiptoeing around, and although being the minority is fun, at times, I can truly say I understand the feeling of being helpless in a society that has been rejecting every part of my being despite my best intentions, since the day I arrived. And though it's not everywhere in Japan, and by no means everyone, the few who have rejected me have made me feel quite unwelcome during my first week back in a foreign land.

"Youkoso Japan," my ass.

It's not how they do it in America, or at least, not how I do it.

Had this been my first trip to Japan, I would be back home, by now.

But after a while you learn to deal with these things, the unexpected and the uncontrollable, the cultural differences and the biased attitudes that radiate from those few needles in the haystack who happen to occupy the uppermost positions of authority.

You can only smile and do your best, and know that your character is hardening due to your efforts. That how I do it, in America, Japan, or elsewhere.