An interview with Mizuho Ota, who attended an international school in Japan, went on to study at a university in the United States, and is now pursuing a doctoral degree researching bacteria. We spoke with her about her experiences receiving an English-based education while living in Japan, the relationship between language and identity, and her struggles with Japanese.
太田 みず穂 Mizuho Ota
Originally from Nisshin City, Aichi Prefecture, Mizuho Ota now lives in San Diego, California. She began attending Nagoya International School from preschool and graduated from the high school division in 2009. That same year, she moved to the United States to study at Amherst College in Massachusetts, where she earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in Biology in 2013. She then entered the PhD program in Biochemistry at the University of California, San Diego, where she continues her studies today.
Her doctoral research focuses on the ecology of cyanobacteria, photosynthetic bacteria. She investigates what traits enable cyanobacteria to escape predators such as amoebas living in the same environment, and which genes are responsible for those traits. Her post-graduate career path is still undecided, but she is exploring opportunities where she can make full use of her skills in English, science, and critical thinking. One of her personal goals is to overcome her lack of confidence in Japanese.
Mizuho Ota is currently a graduate student at the University of California, San Diego, where she researches cyanobacteria—commonly referred to as “algae.” Her decision to join this field was not driven by a deep prior passion for the subject but rather by the comfortable atmosphere of the lab. In her graduate program, students rotate through labs for about ten weeks before choosing where to stay, and she settled on cyanobacteria research. She notes that bacteria grow quickly, which suits her impatient personality, compared to slower models like mice.
Although she grew up in Japan, Mizuho’s life now is overwhelmingly in English—about 95%. She mostly uses Japanese only when speaking with her family in Japan. Even her thoughts are primarily in English, and switching back to Japanese when she visits home takes time. She recalls beginning English very young, with tutoring from an American connected to the international school she would later attend, starting around age three.
From preschool, Mizuho attended an international school in Nagoya. At first, rules about language use were loose—children would mix Japanese and English while playing—but by elementary school, they were instructed to use only English so that everyone could understand. Alongside English-medium education, she also took Japanese “kokugo” classes, similar to those in Japanese public schools, designed for native speakers.
At home, Japanese remained the family language, while English belonged to school. For her, it was less “two languages” than “home language vs. school language.”
Mizuho admits that she feels nervous using Japanese with people outside her family. Writing emails or speaking formally requires her to double-check with dictionaries or online searches. Her vocabulary in English far surpasses her Japanese, so when she has an idea, she often thinks of the English expression first and struggles to find the Japanese equivalent. Sometimes she manages with a substitute expression, and other times she prefers to stay silent.
Reading played a huge role in her English acquisition. As a child, she loved books—progressing from picture books to “chapter books” such as Roald Dahl or Goosebumps by early elementary school. She eagerly read large amounts, sometimes finishing books in a single day. Scholastic book fairs at school provided her access to popular American children’s literature. Unlike formal study, reading was something she enjoyed naturally, and she believes it was the most important factor in her English development.
In upper elementary grades, she often worked on creative projects with classmates—such as writing story continuations or making science-based dioramas. While she didn’t consciously notice cultural differences at the time, she now realizes many classmates’ behaviors reflected their family backgrounds, including children of diplomats. Looking back as an adult, she recognizes cultural differences she didn’t analyze as a child, but simply accepted as “normal.”
Her younger brother also attended the same international school, but their parents—Japanese speakers with no English ability—sometimes felt frustrated. Early on, the school provided Japanese translations of announcements, but later, Mizuho had to interpret English school documents herself, including uncomfortable ones like her own report cards. This responsibility created pressure, especially when negative comments had to be explained directly to her parents.
Most of Mizuho’s friends were from her international school. She occasionally met peers from Japanese schools through activities like ballet, but these interactions were limited. Growing up in Japan while speaking fluent English often meant being asked to “say something in English” or explain why she spoke it. To handle this, she prepared a set explanation: “I go to an international school, and classes are all in English.”
Although fluent in English, her cultural upbringing remained largely Japanese, shaped by her parents. It wasn’t until entering an American college that she strongly felt cultural differences—such as attitudes toward self-confidence, apologizing, and self-promotion. Compared to peers from Japanese schools who jumped straight into American universities, her transition was smoother thanks to her English background, yet she still recognized moments when she thought, “I really am Japanese.”
Over time, living in the U.S. for several years has shifted her behavior and communication style closer to American norms, though she continues to reflect on her Japanese roots.
Mizuho reflects on how growing up in Japan with Japanese parents influenced her to be less outspoken compared to peers in the U.S. She connects this to the broader contrast often drawn between individualism in the U.S. and collectivism in Japan. This raised deeper questions of belonging and identity: “Where do I fit in, and how am I seen by others?”
While in Japan she often felt isolated in her experience—being more fluent in English despite living in Japan—her world broadened in an American university. There she met many international students wrestling with similar identity questions. For the first time, she realized she was not alone in wondering, “Who am I in between cultures and languages?”
Mizuho notes that identity discussions are easier for her in English. Her exposure to books, lectures, and conversations about identity have been in English, making it the natural language for such reflections. In Japan, she rarely encountered people talking about identity in the same way. In fact, she says she “became Asian” for the first time in the U.S., where others saw her as part of a minority group—an experience not possible in Japan, where everyone around her had been Japanese.
In Japan, most people never need to think about their identity in relation to ethnicity. Mizuho sees this as both a limitation and a kind of happiness: the assumption of sameness avoids tension but also reduces opportunities for self-reflection. She emphasizes that living in the U.S. gave her unique experiences she could never have had in Japan, regardless of her English fluency.
For Mizuho, English was not just a communication tool but a gateway into new spaces where identity could be explored. Without it, she might never have sought answers to questions like “Where do I belong?” English gave her access to both the environment and the resources to think through those questions. She jokingly calls this dynamic a “Pandora’s box”—once opened, it can never be closed.
Despite her fluency in English, Mizuho continues to feel insecure about Japanese. She doesn’t want to lose the language, as it connects deeply to her upbringing and identity. She sees value in using both languages, hoping one day to serve as a bridge between Japanese and English speakers. For her, letting go of Japanese would mean shrinking her world.
When Japanese visitors come to her U.S. lab, she feels pressure to act fully Japanese—worrying they might think, “Is she really Japanese?” This expectation sometimes fuels her insecurity. At the same time, she approaches such encounters with kindness, wanting to ease the visitors’ anxieties.
Mizuho emphasizes that she didn’t need courage to move to the U.S.—her English fluency made it relatively easy. This makes her admire people who come without strong English skills, facing uncertainty head-on. She sees her role as providing support where she can, even if her own experiences are different from theirs.
Through living abroad, Mizuho feels her worldview and empathy have expanded. She recognizes that everyone faces their own challenges and hopes that her experiences allow her to be more understanding and supportive.
Mizuho concludes that her journey has been about more than just language—it has been about identity, belonging, and perspective. English gave her access to environments that reshaped how she saw herself and others, while Japanese remains a vital part of who she is. She wants to continue strengthening her Japanese to honor both sides of her identity and to act as a bridge across cultures.
