Under Japan’s national curriculum, pupils learn shosha, writing practice, with a brush in every grade from the third year of elementary school, with about 30 class hours a year.
In calligraphy, the student copies an otehon, a model. The teacher writes corrections and advice on each sheet in vermilion, shuhitsu. A calligraphy correspondence course of the company U-CAN returns every submission this way and sends the student models of his or her own name.
Seisha hitchū (正射必中): a correct shot always hits. A maxim of kyūdō, Japanese archery. A publication of Chuo University explains it: an arrow released with the correct shooting form will surely hit.
In February 2026, Shūeisha Online reported on elementary school tests that had drawn anger on social media. On a Japanese test, a pupil had matched three characters correctly with the games they wanted, but lost one point for each line, with the red-pen note “use a ruler.” On a science test, the answer “It lights up” lost points because it had no full stop.
An elementary school teacher in the Kanto region, in their thirties, explained the practice: “If something we mention in ordinary lessons is not done, we mark it with a triangle and a deduction, or with a cross.” The tests also teach the basics of working life: “Write carefully what others will look at, and use what you have learned.”
In 1958, a weekly magazine wrote that large companies now made more transistors than Sony, the company that had developed them. “So Sony is the guinea pig of the large companies.” One account attributes a similar jibe, casting Sony as Toshiba’s guinea pig, to the critic Ōya Sōichi in Shūkan Asahi. His own wording is not confirmed.
Sony was angry at being compared to a laboratory animal. Some years later, its founder Ibuka Masaru is reported to have said in an interview that there were still many things to create. If opening them up one by one and turning them into products was the guinea pig spirit, then the guinea pig spirit was a fine thing too. Employees gave him a golden guinea pig.
Suji o tōsu (筋を通す): to run the line through. To give a matter its correct line, as in hanashi no suji o tōsu, to keep a discussion on its proper line.
Sujichigai (筋違い): off the line. Against reason, or aimed at the wrong place, as in watashi ni kujō o iu no wa sujichigai da, complaining to me is the wrong address.
Atamagoshi (頭越し): over the head. An example from a bilingual dictionary: kare wa kachō no atamagoshi ni chokusetsu shachō ni sono teian o motte itta, he took the proposal straight to the president, over the section chief’s head.
A well-known story tells how Ishida Mitsunari entered the service of Toyotomi Hideyoshi. Hideyoshi stopped at a temple and asked for tea. A temple boy first served a cup almost full of lukewarm tea. Hideyoshi asked for more. The boy served less tea, a little hotter. The third time, he served a small amount of quite hot tea in a small cup. Hideyoshi was impressed by the boy’s attentiveness and asked the abbot for him.
The story is known as sanken no cha, the three offerings of tea. It first appears in Bushō kanjōki, published in 1716, and was later retold in Ehon Taikōki and Meishō genkōroku. It is most likely a later invention.
Seven-Eleven Japan tells its part-time staff that the weather and local events are important information when ordering. Its parent company calls this ordering by hypothesis: stock and sell according to a hypothesis built on data, check actual sales, and keep improving the accuracy of orders. For each item, staff work out why it sold or did not sell.
Seven rules for the tea ceremony are traditionally attributed to the tea master Sen no Rikyū. They are known as Rikyū shichisoku. Make tea so that it is good to drink. Lay the charcoal so that the water boils. Arrange flowers as they grow in the field. Make it cool in summer and warm in winter. Be early. Have an umbrella ready even when it is not raining. Be mindful of the other guests.
A children’s tea ceremony leaflet from the town of Chikujō in Fukuoka explains each rule. The first teaches kikubari, attentiveness. The rule on summer and winter teaches omoiyari, consideration for others.
Kayui tokoro ni te ga todoku (痒い所に手が届く): one’s hand reaches the itchy spot. Care that reaches every small detail, the mark of someone who is attentive.
Ki ga kiku (気が利く): one’s attention works. Noticing even small things, being thoughtful and quick to see what is needed.
In Makura no sōshi (The Pillow Book), Sei Shōnagon recalls a day of deep snow at court. Empress Teishi asks: Shōnagon yo, Kōrohō no yuki ika naramu. Shōnagon, how is the snow of Xianglu Peak? Sei Shōnagon has the lattice raised and lifts the blind high. The Empress smiles.
The question quotes a line by the Chinese poet Bai Juyi: the snow of Xianglu Peak, I lift the blind to see. The other ladies admit that they knew the line and had even used it in poems, but it had not occurred to them. The Empress had not asked for the blind to be raised.