CODE IN TOKYO

The Many Shades of "Being Able to Speak English"

English Ability Is Not Binary

English education in Japan, and the general attitude toward English here, tends to treat the language as a binary: you either can speak it or you cannot.

The other day, someone said to me, “So you can speak English!” I had no idea how to respond.

The standard answer is to hedge: “Well, I can manage everyday conversation…”

But the ability to use a language should never have been a simple yes-or-no question. It has many more shades than that.

The Baseline for “Being Able To”: A Cook at a Chinese Restaurant

Think about a Chinese cook working at a neighborhood Chinese restaurant in Japan.

Their Japanese is often far from perfect. They may have a strong accent, and their grammar may be a little shaky.

Does that mean they cannot speak Japanese?

Of course not.

They handle orders in the kitchen, negotiate with suppliers, live in a foreign country, and run a viable business. They are using Japanese extremely effectively.

Customers do not think, “That person’s use of particles is a little off.”

If the order gets through and a delicious plate of fried rice comes out, that is enough.

That is what language is supposed to be.

It is not about scoring 100 percent on a grammar test. It is a tool for achieving a purpose.

Perhaps the true baseline for being able to use a language is simply being able to accomplish what you need to accomplish with it.

Where I Stand

That is why I struggle when someone says, “So you can speak English.”

I am beyond communicating in broken phrases by stringing words together.

But can I fully keep up with casual conversation among native speakers? I am not so sure.

When I watch a movie without subtitles, there is still more that I miss than understand.

I miss jokes. Sometimes I take them literally. There is a huge amount of slang I do not know.

Still, I have one reliable benchmark.

My English is more functional than the Japanese of the Chinese restaurant cook who uses it to do their job.

I can participate in business meetings. I can discuss technical subjects. I can communicate with engineers overseas. I can handle problems.

I actually use English to achieve real objectives.

So if someone asks whether I can speak English, “yes” is probably the correct answer.

Yet Japanese people often feel a strange pressure around saying that.

The Test That Begins the Moment You Say “I Can”

For some reason, the moment you say, “I can speak English” in Japan, the atmosphere seems to shift to: “So you speak it like a native, right?”

Of course, nobody has actually said that. But you feel as though they have.

So many people say, “I cannot speak it at all.”

They say it even after earning high scores on English exams. They say it even after traveling abroad for work. They say it even when they use English on the job.

What a waste.

Language ability is a spectrum.

There are at least that many stages.

Things become distorted when we compress all of them into the binary categories of “can” and “cannot.”

The Awkward Middle Is the Hardest Place to Be

Incidentally, the English published on this blog is also edited quite heavily by AI.

I can write. I can read technical articles in English. I can talk with people from other countries.

But I still make grammatical mistakes. I am still unsure about articles. And I still do not really understand prepositions.

People at this level face a particular kind of difficulty.

To English speakers, we already look like people who can speak English. So they talk to us normally, at full speed.

I understand the general meaning. But there are holes in the details.

An unfamiliar expression. A turn of phrase I have never heard. A piece of assumed cultural knowledge.

When those appear, my comprehension suddenly drops.

In practice, I often have to say:

If you cannot speak English at all, people slow down for you. If you are at a native level, you naturally have no problem.

The most awkward place is somewhere in between.

The other person speaks on the assumption that you understand. You desperately try to keep up.

It feels like entering a dungeon with a recommended level of 100 when you are only around level 70.

You can clear it, but even the ordinary enemies are genuinely tough.

If You Can Serve Great Fried Rice, That Is Enough

These days, when someone says, “So you can speak English,” I think the most accurate answer is:

“Well, I can use it at least a little better than a Chinese restaurant cook uses Japanese to do their job.”

And that cook probably feels the same way.

They can work in Japan. They can live here. They can talk with customers.

But every now and then, they still have to say, “Sorry, what did you just say?”

As long as the restaurant serves great fried rice, the customers will not complain.

After all, it is not their language ability that is being judged.