Well, well, a tiny baby whose birth I witnessed (it seems only a few years ago) has grown. My niece Hoho is pursuing to become a next Japanese idol in a vocational high school in music. Most mothers would have talked her out of following the ridiculous dream, but her mother said to her, "If it's your dream, try it." Hoho, who could not bring herself to go to middle school for months, does not now miss a single day in high school. As she has to compete for leading roles with her classmates who already have years of vocal and dancing training, she practices at school every day until late. As it takes 2 hours to commute, she leaves at 6 AM and comes home past 10 PM. When I was visiting her family, she left home at 5 AM so that she could practice extra an hour before the class started. I was impressed by her efforts.

Initially I was not thrilled with her choice of high school as it seemed to limit her career options. I will take that back now. She is learning to work exceptionally hard, to take letdowns positively, and to be courteous and appreciative. With the positive attitude she is acquiring, anything could be possible for her.

Hoho's auntie is very proud of her and even a bit jealous of her having such an understandable supportive mother. I shall proudly share the photos taken during my last visit.

My niece Hoho, about whom I wrote in my last blog, is not coming to high school in the US. There were two possible ways. One was for her to immigrate here; and the other, to enter this country with a student visa. I will describe each option below.

I could have sponsored for Hoho ‘s permanent residency status. However, as a relative to an US citizen, she will be classified into the forth category and have to wait several years to acquire it. I could have adopted her, but neither her mother nor I inclined to do it. Here went the first option of her coming here as an immigrant.

A F-1 student visa is for those, who want to be enrolled in public high schools. Schools with a foreign student advisor in their staff members and ESL classes in their curriculums could issue documents for that visa. Central High School in Rapid City is not one of them. In addition, the length of possible enrollment is limited to one year. The F-1 visa holder is required to pay the entire school tuition. The US Law is making certain that the tax dollars would not be used for the education of foreign students.

A J-1 visa is for foreign exchange students. Central High School receives exchange students periodically. However, as far as Hoho’s mother has found out, they could choose countries to study in, but not schools. Students cannot live with their relatives. I thought we could still push in this option, but my sister chose not to.

The last option was a F-20 visa. Most private high schools issue it, and the foreign students are allowed to study in this country as long as their fundings last. It will cost approximately $30 grand per year. As Hoho will stay with me, the cost can be reduced significantly. However, the only private high school in Rapid City has not even been accredited yet.

My sister talked to Hoho. Her dream is to become a singer like Lady Gaga. That is why she wants to master English. Most of the teenagers would be too shy to voice such an outrageous dream to her teacher, but Hoho was not. Now, both the teacher and her mother wish to support her. She is going to be enrolled in a music institute in Japan.

The music institute is not a high school. Even if she decides later that vocal training is not for her, it will be difficult for her to transfer to a regular high school. I do not think it is a good idea to limit her future options to music at such a tender age, but I might be wrong. Time can only reveal the answer.

My sister and niece brought, from Japan, disaster-area products that I mentioned in the previous blog. The main purpose of their visit was to see if the 14-year-old niece, Hoho, would like American high school. She spent a whole day shadowing a student in middle school, and we had a tour of high school. We all were impressed by the freedom that American high school students enjoyed. The student teacher ratio was one half of that of Japan. The school facilities were too luxurious in my opinion. It scared me to imagine the world wanting five-star schools like the one we saw. The earth cannot sustain that.

Hoho, of course, fell in love with everything that she saw in the US. Anticipating her enrollment in American high school, we started her immigration paperwork. I am trying to do it without hiring an attorney, but it is like going through a maze in the darkness. If any of you have expertise in immigration or guardianship for the care of a minor, I will greatly appreciate your assist.

Four of us shared the 2-bedroom house for the last 12 days. As I have been accustomed to private living, my family's constant dependence on me as an interpreter was a little tiresome. I am telling myself that I have to be patient and understanding when Hoho comes to live with me next year. Although I feel happy for Hoho to have international experiences at such a tender age, I am scared to perform a mother's role for the teenager. I will take in any suggestions that you may have on how I should prepare myself for that.

Akita: Exaggerated gestures of welcome are seldom expressed in Japan. Instead of a hug, my mother's first words to me were penetratingly painful. Referring to my gray hair, she uttered, "You look like a grandma, like me." She was not disrespectful. She was just surprised and disappointed to see her daughter having aged. By the way, in order to shut the mouth of my family over my gray hair, I spent ¥3700 ($48) to make my hair more stylish. I hate the obsession in superficial beauty, but sometimes it is easier if I give in partially.

Another aspect that I continue to feel resentful is the clear division between the male and female roles. My step-father (center) brought back the two men after a meeting and a dinner party. They were drunk when they walked in, and they continued to drink. In between serving them, mother (second from the left) and I sat on chairs a little distance from the table and listened to their boasts and jokes. After the guests had left, mother asked me, "Weren't they fun?" I did not answer to the question. While she seemed to have enjoyed the unexpected visit, I had needed to restrain my desire to leave the obligation of accompanying the drunkards.

It is universal that love can be expressed in nutritional meals that mothers prepare. The above left is a breakfast that my mother made for me yesterday. The above right is my niece's "bento" box. I was happy that my sister made one for me as well.