My Life: Interview with Sunao Tsuboi, Chairperson of the Japan Confederation of A- and H-Bomb Sufferers Organizations, Part 8
Jan. 28, 2013
Teaching
by Sakiko Masuda, Staff Writer
Sharing students’ struggles with students
After the A-bombing Mr. Tsuboi spent time recuperating, and then in the fall of 1946 he went to work at Nakamura Girls’ High School (now Ogaki High School in Etajima). Then from 1947 to 1957 he was employed at the main campus and a branch campus of Ondo Junior High School in his hometown of Ondo (now part of Kure).
In the summer of the year after the A-bombing I was finally able to walk while holding onto things. I gave up on my dream of becoming an inventor and became a math teacher instead. In those days, in addition to the spring, summer and winter vacations there was also time off when farmers were busy, so I figured I would be able to hold up physically. But I didn’t feel I should just collect my salary, so I spent time in the school library reading lots of books on education.
While he was teaching at Ondo Junior High School, Mr. Tsuboi gathered a group of boys who did not attend school regularly and formed the “Tsuboi Class.” This was during the postwar years when many people were poor. Some students did not go to school so that they could work to help support their families.
I felt that education was about considering the students who had trouble studying. The school was coeducational, but I persuaded the principal to let me pursue my ideas. I was prepared to quit teaching if it turned out that my way of doing things was wrong.
I slept in the night-duty room and worked with the students. They took turns staying at the school in groups of five or six. In winter we sometimes wrapped ourselves up against the cold using the black-out curtains from the science lab. If students spent the night at school, they wouldn’t be absent the next day. I took the students who did not have a bath at home to a public bath, and I sometimes mended their torn clothing during the night.
I taught them the joy of being able to read, first by teaching them the Chinese characters that were learned in elementary school. I could play the piano after a fashion and sometimes accompanied them when they sang. I tried to motivate the students. I always told them not to give up or feel sorry for themselves.
The students gradually began to change, and Mr. Tsuboi earned the trust of their parents. But then he fell ill.
Even the students who had been hard on me at first settled down. On a hill next to the school we took a group picture. I said to them, “Look at the sky. Look at the future!” Some of those students went on to high school, and one became the manager of a factory.
But I fell ill with anemia and had to be hospitalized. The diagnosis was chronic aplastic anemia. My body’s ability to make blood had been impaired by the atomic bombing. When I told the doctor I wanted to keep working, he told me to be prepared to die if I did so. But when I thought about the students who were waiting for me, I felt truly miserable about being in the hospital.
(Originally published on January 25, 2013)
by Sakiko Masuda, Staff Writer
Sharing students’ struggles with students
After the A-bombing Mr. Tsuboi spent time recuperating, and then in the fall of 1946 he went to work at Nakamura Girls’ High School (now Ogaki High School in Etajima). Then from 1947 to 1957 he was employed at the main campus and a branch campus of Ondo Junior High School in his hometown of Ondo (now part of Kure).
In the summer of the year after the A-bombing I was finally able to walk while holding onto things. I gave up on my dream of becoming an inventor and became a math teacher instead. In those days, in addition to the spring, summer and winter vacations there was also time off when farmers were busy, so I figured I would be able to hold up physically. But I didn’t feel I should just collect my salary, so I spent time in the school library reading lots of books on education.
While he was teaching at Ondo Junior High School, Mr. Tsuboi gathered a group of boys who did not attend school regularly and formed the “Tsuboi Class.” This was during the postwar years when many people were poor. Some students did not go to school so that they could work to help support their families.
I felt that education was about considering the students who had trouble studying. The school was coeducational, but I persuaded the principal to let me pursue my ideas. I was prepared to quit teaching if it turned out that my way of doing things was wrong.
I slept in the night-duty room and worked with the students. They took turns staying at the school in groups of five or six. In winter we sometimes wrapped ourselves up against the cold using the black-out curtains from the science lab. If students spent the night at school, they wouldn’t be absent the next day. I took the students who did not have a bath at home to a public bath, and I sometimes mended their torn clothing during the night.
I taught them the joy of being able to read, first by teaching them the Chinese characters that were learned in elementary school. I could play the piano after a fashion and sometimes accompanied them when they sang. I tried to motivate the students. I always told them not to give up or feel sorry for themselves.
The students gradually began to change, and Mr. Tsuboi earned the trust of their parents. But then he fell ill.
Even the students who had been hard on me at first settled down. On a hill next to the school we took a group picture. I said to them, “Look at the sky. Look at the future!” Some of those students went on to high school, and one became the manager of a factory.
But I fell ill with anemia and had to be hospitalized. The diagnosis was chronic aplastic anemia. My body’s ability to make blood had been impaired by the atomic bombing. When I told the doctor I wanted to keep working, he told me to be prepared to die if I did so. But when I thought about the students who were waiting for me, I felt truly miserable about being in the hospital.
(Originally published on January 25, 2013)
