Free Something Like an Autobiography by Akira Kurosawa Page B

man’s grandson’s school was in our immediate area, I was greedy for fencing lessons and began going there right away. But the white-haired, white-bearded person who was called the grandson of Chiba Shŭsaku did nothing but occupy the highest-ranking position at the school. Never once did he deign to give me a lesson.
    The man who did give the lessons was the assistant to the master,and he had a shout that went “Chō, chō, yatta! Chō, yatta!” like a folk-dance refrain. Somehow this shout prevented me from respecting him very much. On top of that, the students were all neighborhood children who approached fencing as if it were a game of tag, and it was all very silly.
    Just as I was feeling all these frustrations, the head of the fencing school was hit by an automobile, still a rarity at the time. For me, this was like hearing that the famous feudal swordsman Miyamoto Musashi had been kicked by his own horse. All the respect I had for the grandson of Chiba Shŭsaku disappeared completely.
    Perhaps as a reaction to my experience with the Chiba school, I made up my mind to take lessons at the fencing school run by Takano Sazaburo, who had taken a whole generation by storm with his art. But my resolve proved to be no more than that of a “three-day monk.” I knew his reputation, but the reality of the violence of Takano’s lessons surpassed even my imagination.
    In the thrust-and-parry practice I called out “O-men!” and struck. The same instant I was thrown flying against the wainscot, and darkness descended before my eyes, interspersed with scatters of stars resembling a fireworks display. Like these stars, my confidence in my kendō ability—or rather my pride in it—went plummeting through an empty sky.
    A hundred proverbs and tag phrases come to mind. “The world is not an indulgent place.” “There is always something higher.” “The frog in his well.” “Looking at the ceiling through a hollow reed.” Once thrown against the wall, I gained a bitter understanding of how presumptuous I had been to ridicule my previous fencing master for being hit by an automobile. My long, smug “goblin’s nose” was summarily broken off, never to grow back again. But prior to my graduation from primary school it was not only kendō that shattered the pride of my goblin’s nose.
    I had hoped to attend Fourth Middle School. I failed the entrance examination. But my case was different from my brother’s when he failed the exam to enter First Middle School. It was an event that aroused no surprise. Even my record at Kuroda Primary School was something you would have to call representative of a frog in his well. I had applied myself only in the subjects I liked, such as grammar, history, composition, art and penmanship. In these areas no one could surpass me. But I couldn’t make myself like science and arithmetic, and only very reluctantly put enough energy into these subjects to stay a shade above disgrace. The result was obvious. Attempting todeal with the questions on science and arithmetic in the Fourth Middle School examination, I was at a complete loss.
    I still have the same strengths and weaknesses. It seems I am of a literary rather than a scientific turn. An example is the fact that I can’t write numbers properly. They end up looking like the decorative ancient cursive syllabary. Learning to drive a car is out of the question; I am incapable of operating an ordinary still camera or even putting fluid in a cigarette lighter. My son tells me that when I use the telephone it’s as if a chimpanzee were trying to place a call.
    When someone is told over and over again that he’s no good at something, he loses more and more confidence and eventually does become poor at it. Conversely, if he’s told he’s good at something, his confidence builds and he actually becomes better at it. While a person is born with strengths and weaknesses as part of his heredity, they can be greatly altered by later