Different Than Usual | Fumitoshi Kato, Dean of the Graduate School of Media and Governance
March 17, 2020
The sound of a violent clash, the impact of giant bodies hitting the clay ring, the voice of the referee. A variety of sounds, usually drowned out by cheers, echo through the empty arena. This year's March Grand Sumo Tournament is being held without spectators. It is said to be the first time in 75 years that a grand tournament has been held without an audience. The ring-entering ceremony was held and the bouts began with no spectators present. It was a truly strange sight. For some reason, I found myself facing the television screen with a different kind of tension than usual. To exaggerate a little, it even felt like I was watching a completely new sport.
Only the *dohyō* (sumo ring) is clearly visible, and my eyes are drawn to each and every movement. I realize that each scene has a ritualistic meaning, and that the wrestlers' hearts are moved each time. I'm not that much of a sumo fan, and I've only ever watched grand sumo on TV, but my imagination runs wild. Things that were always invisible (or that I wasn't looking at) have become visible.
Fortunately, there are no lectures during this period, so I don't have to worry about "close contact" in the classroom. After exchanging messages with a few people, it seems that while some students are busy traveling or working part-time jobs as usual, many are heeding the request for self-restraint and spending their days quietly. I think this is the perfect time to read books and write, but there's no doubt that people are feeling unsettled. After all, this is the season. It's just the time of year when you want to go out and feel the spring (after taking off your heavy coat).
As for my "leadership" duties, several meetings are being held in a way that allows for remote participation. I'm sure this will be an opportunity to get used to the setup and procedures and become better at holding remote meetings. It's fine if I can see their faces, but it's a bit confusing with only audio. Even while confirming that we are connected, I can't tell if they are providing verbal cues of listening or just ignoring me (they might even have stepped away from their desk while still connected). But this too seems manageable once I get the hang of it. This is because we have already, to some extent, acquired the skill of conveying our presence by adding comments in chat or using emoji and stickers. When there is a desire to communicate, creativity and ingenuity naturally follow.
Not just grand sumo, but also sports, concerts, plays, and even academic conferences and symposia—various "large-scale events" have been canceled, postponed, or held in unusual ways, and it's easy to feel down. The town also feels somewhat lonely. In the end, the graduation ceremony was canceled.
While watching the no-spectator grand sumo, I imagined myself giving a lecture in a classroom with no students. I enter the classroom, walk to the front, and connect my PC. I project the slides and begin the lecture. Do I usually say something like "Good morning"? Or do I just start talking right away? What about my posture? I might often speak while seated. Are my clothes in order? I trace this series of actions that have become all too familiar, one by one. I proceed with an inspection, checking for any inertia or slack.
I was reminded of something important. That is, students are not spectators. They can never be beings who just watch a lecture from a distance. Even if we have to give lectures online, we must face them after a proper *shikiri* (pre-bout ritual). The real feeling of clashing. We always need a *torikumi* (a bout, an engagement).
A week ago, grades were announced and graduation decisions were made. The campus is deserted. Since the graduation ceremony was canceled, "Congratulations on your graduation" signs were set up on each campus. The graduating students are people with whom I have faced off time and again in the classroom for the "bout" of studying. Without students, nothing begins. It is because there are students that the time for the *musubi* (conclusion) arrives. This spring is different than usual.