This is my second time moving to the U.S., and this simple question has always been the central point of my reflection on cultural differences - How are you?, which is Kumusta? in Filipino. I grew up in the Philippines responding to Kumusta? with details like where I’ve been, where I was going, or even what I ate for breakfast. When I first lived in the U.S. in 2007 for a graduate school scholarship, I quickly noticed I was answering the question with lengthy responses. I would share a little story, only to notice that the person I was talking to had already moved on.
I remember rushing to my class one Saturday morning, walking through Washington Square Park, and heading to Pless Hall at New York University, when my classmate on the other side of the street yelled, “Hey, Richie!” I quickly yelled back, “Good morning!” And yes, the question I dreaded came in between cars and people passing by: 'How are you?' While scurrying I said loudly, “I just grabbed coffee from the deli, and now I’m heading to storytelling class. I’m late! How about you?”
He shouted, “I’m fine!” and was gone.
Wait, what? I just gave you a mini-monologue, dude! Fine does not reciprocate. Then I laughed at myself. I realized that the question isn’t always an invitation for a story. It is even harder when I get a What’s up? because it translates to Ano’ng meron? (Any life updates?). My overthinking and oversharing self would take over, telling them about the book I was reading, my subway experience, or the project I was working on when I could’ve just said, “All good.”
It took me a while to adjust, but I found a way to control my linguistic reflex by using varied responses day by day: okay, good, fine, alright, great, amazing, fantastic, lovely, incredible, ecstatic, exhausted, distraught until my built-in thesaurus gave up, so good was good. Surprisingly, even though my answer was way shorter than I’d wanted, I did consistently, eventually feel that it was still a sincere gesture. People might not have expected a long response, but that didn’t mean they didn’t care.
Now, here in New Mexico, during this school year that I am teaching in Grants, we were having a lunch potluck in my classroom when I needed to go to the bathroom. I bumped into a colleague, and the question popped up again: “Ms. Richie, how are you?'
“We just ate pancit (rice noodles)!” I blurted out in my usual response mode.
I ended up giving my colleague a plate of pancit when I could’ve just said, “I’m good”. In hindsight, I realized that sometimes saying more can make the conversation feel authentic, just like how sharing pancit made it more personal.
At times, I’ve caught myself holding back carefully when asked, How are you? But I’ve understood people do want to listen. When I share a little more, some stop, tell me what they think, and show genuine interest. It’s taken time to unlearn my habit of keeping things to two words, but I’m slowly finding a balance between considering people’s time and extending small conversations.
Being a teacher, I’ve given much importance to listening to my students. Most of them would naturally give kilometric answers when asked. So, I’ve learned to approach questions with care. At first, I kept conversations brief, following the same practice I had developed before. But now, listening after asking has given me a different perspective, especially in the classroom. It’s not just about hearing words or getting answers or moving on to the next question. It’s about collectively creating a willing space where students feel comfortable enough to participate in the discussion. This insight has shown me how nurturing question-andanswer routines can help build real classroom conversations.
In Filipino culture, Kumusta? isn’t just a polite greeting. It’s an invitation to sit, chat, and catch up, sometimes with a cup of coffee or a full meal! Be it in New York, New Mexico or anywhere, How are you? can be a quick exchange, but what it means depends on the moment and the person. Some days, a simple I’m good is more than enough.
So, whenever someone asks How are you?, I remind myself that what matters most is not how much is said, but whether people who ask and answer this question gladly choose to pause, respond, and listen.