Can I Become "My Favorite Teacher"?: Okashira and the Graduates | Yasuo Takagi (Dean of the Graduate School of Health Management)

2011.09.22

In my line of work, I am often asked to write congratulatory messages on *shikishi* (autograph boards) for graduation ceremonies and weddings. I always write the same thing: the words of the Italian philosopher Triassi, "We have come from afar. And we will go far!" It is a convenient phrase that can be used for any occasion, meant to encourage the encounters and futures of teachers and students, or brides and grooms.

This is a story from my high school reunion, 30 years after graduation, when I was 49 years old. Since our former teacher was attending for the first time, almost all of our classmates were there, reuniting after 30 years. Our former teacher's speech began with an apology: "I am sorry for what I did to you. Please forgive me for being an arrogant young man in my 30s who didn't understand life yet, and for calling you idiots and fools. But seeing you all grown up into such fine adults puts my mind at ease and fills me with joy."

As the homeroom teacher for the college preparatory class and our English teacher, his teaching was strict. If we couldn't translate an English sentence, his classes were filled with verbal abuse, such as, "You can't even translate this? Jump out the window and die." For that reason, many students disliked him, but for some reason, I believed it was thanks to this teacher that I came to like English, and I didn't dislike him.

Rather, I was surprised that the speech of that strict teacher began with an apology, and it made me realize anew that this teacher, whom we had feared as the scary English teacher, was only in his 30s back then. And finally, he concluded with these words: "My own teacher is still alive. You, my students, must not cross the Sanzu River before he does. I want you to keep on living your lives to the fullest."

I was moved by our former teacher's speech, which continued to encourage us, even at 49 years old and well past the midpoint of our lives. At the same time, I rediscovered the reason why I had come to like English and my teacher: it was because I had sensed this encouragement amidst his verbal abuse.

Kiyoshiro Imawano, who sang "To a poor student like me, you told a wonderful story" in his song "My Favorite Teacher," passed away at the age of 58. His 77-year-old former teacher, the model for the song, reportedly attended his wake, offered flowers, and said, "You've worked hard enough. Rest easy now." Kiyoshiro's debut album, which included this song, was released two years after he graduated from high school, and the teacher recalled that when Kiyoshiro visited him with the album, "I was embarrassed, but I was truly happy."

Now, in my case, I wonder if any of my students will ever make an album like "My Favorite Teacher" for me. Those who leave home rarely have time to look back, but those who remain at home are always thinking of those who have left. Even if you go far, I want to re-emphasize this one thought from your "Okashira."

(Date of publication: 2011/09/22)