ASIJ Highlights

CULTURE

Grain Power

Fifth grade students cropped the second harvest of the Chofu Campus rice field this September. After cutting the stalks, they made small bundles tied with hemp string that they hung on drying racks. A few weeks later once the stalks had dried, they threshed the rice with the help of a local farmer. Second grade students helped celebrate the harvest by building o-mikoshi that they paraded around the school.

See more on YouTube @asij

ASIJ welcomed athletes, coaches and supporters from 16 visiting schools for this year’s YUJO Tournament in October. Teams came from the local area and as far as Okinawa, Misawa, Sasebo and South Korea. Kubasaki walked away as champions in the girls competition with Canadian Academy winning the newly added boys tournament. The entire school community came back to campus to celebrate Spirit Day on September 24 for the first time since 2019. Although it was a rainy day, that didn’t dampen the crowd’s enthusiasm as they cheered on a full schedule of sports. It was a great way to rekindle our Mustang Spirit and kick off the year.

ATHLETICS Serving Up the Action Spirited Away

CAMPUS ARTS Dear Edwina Jr.

A large ensemble of middle school actors and stage crew came together to present this years MS Musical Dear Edwina Jr. The comedic show is a heartwarming musical about the joys of growing up, which filled the packed theater with laughter.

Watch the show on YouTube @asij_TV

ARTS

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Our high school thespians performed a unique version of Shakespeare’s classic comedy A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Staged in the Black Box Theater, the sold-out show impressed audiences with its cast’s performances and the intimate set featuring a Japanese forest garden.

Watch the show on YouTube @asij_TV

CAMPUS Dressing Sharp Pretty Sweet, IMO Cutting Edge

The annual elementary school Halloween parade welcomed parents back to watch this year as all the frightening, yet cute, costumes marched through campus.

Rumor has it that even the school lost-and-found items found their way into the parade, haunting students with their discarded possessions.

CULTURE

Students at the Early Learning Center visited Shimada Seifun-jo for their annual sweet potato dig. Students enjoyed getting their hands dirty to harvest the potatoes, which they took back to the ELC to incorporate them into a wide variety of activities and projects.

CULTURE

Descended from samurai culture, battō is the practice of drawing and cutting with a katana sword. Grade seven students, who are currently studying feudal Japan, were treated to a thrilling exhibition by master swordsman Suiju Kaito. Master Suirei Yamada helped explain the connections between battō and bushido (the way of the samurai) as well as the connections between battō and tea ceremony.

Tokyo School For Foreign Children

Agnes Wintemute Coates (1864–1945) (Photo courtesy of The United Church of Canada Archives/Victoria University Archives Acc. No. 86.067P/1, p. 10)

In our 120th anniversary year, Matt Wilce takes a look at the origins of ASIJ and the remarkable women responsible for founding the Tokyo School for Foreign Children.

It is Saturday, September 23, 1877 and Nora is on her way to a third floor recitation room in Middle Hall at Rockford Womens’ Seminary to sit a teaching exam. Examinations are stressful at the best of times, but even more so when you don’t have the paper needed to complete them, so when Nora encounters another flustered young woman she offers her help. Laura Jane had just arrived—paperless—from Cedarville, but had found the school’s office closed. Nora, a small 17-year-old from Manchester, Iowa, handed her some of her own papers and the two went into the exam room to try their fate together. Mrs Carpenter, the County Superintendent of Schools, had no mercy on prospective teachers and Nora found the exam full of difficult problems. Both Nora and Laura Jane sat with worried expressions as they worked their way through them. Neither needed to worry as both would pass and become students of the Class of 1881.

Described as vivacious, a brilliant student and steadfast friend by her contemporaries, Nora received excellent grades and progressed quickly both in and out of class. Her Latin was strong, she was active in the Vesperian Society, secretary of the Society of Mission Inquiry for 1879–80, and by her senior year she was president of the Presbyterian Branch of Foreign Missions. She was also known for her rebellious antics and sense of humor. Her friend, who was simply known as Jane, was no academic slouch either and equally liked a bit of fun. Late at night the girls would gather for clandestine parties in her room after carefully covering the transom with a blanket as a blackout. While they read each other Romeo and Juliet or debated Darwinism, they used the dorm wood stove to boil candy, popcorn and even cook oysters. Oil lamps were used to fry eggs in buttered paper boxes, which turned out not to be the most dangerous activity they’d attempt.

Jane convinced her friends to experiment with drugs and four girls joined her in swallowing crushed opium pills. Her hope was that they’d induce hallucinations and insight into the work of the essayist DeQuincey, whose Dreams they planned to read. “We solemnly consumed small white powders at intervals during an entire long holiday, but no mental reorientation took place, and the suspense and excitement did not even permit us to grow sleepy,” Jane wrote in her memoir. “About four o’clock on the weird afternoon, the young teacher whom we had been obliged to take into our confidence, grew alarmed over the whole performance, took away our De Quincey and all the remaining powders.” It is unclear whether Eleanor was one of the girls the teacher administered the emetic ipecac to and sent them to their rooms to recover. Had the foreboding Headmistress Anna Peck Sill found them, the outcome would have undoubtedly been much worse.

Hijinks aside, Nora and Jane were both accomplished serious women—at their graduation Nora was the Salutatorian and Jane the Valedictorian. Miss Sill wrote in the school catalog that her purpose was to “develop moral and religious character in accordance with right principles, that it may send out cultivated Christian women in the various fields of usefulness.” The Class of 1881 did not disappoint in that regard. Jane Addams would go on to become the first female American Nobel Prize winner for her work at Hull House in Chicago. Nora, known now as Eleanor Frothingham, would go on to be one of ASIJ’s founders and first administrators, missionary, and professor of modern languages at Westfield College, Illinois. Eleanor Frothingham Haworth (1860–1949) (Photo courtesy of Rockford College, Illinois)

The Coates family circa 1910

From left to right: Lila, Wells, Alice, Agnes, Havelock, Bertha, Willson, and Mary (Photo courtesy of The United Church of Canada Archives/Victoria University Archives Acc. No. 86.067P/2, p. 19)

Eleanor didn’t head off to Japan immediately on graduating. She instead returned to Manchester to begin her career teaching German and music, before moving on to schools in Morrison, Wisconsin and Corning, Iowa. At the Corning Presbyterian Academy, Eleanor Frothingham taught academic courses such as Latin, English, and history and served as Vice Principal for the 1886–87 school year. Religion was taught by Rev. Barnabas C. Haworth, a bachelor five-years Eleanor’s elder who also acted as the school’s pastor. By the end of her tenure, Eleanor became Mrs Haworth after marrying Barnabas on September 24, 1887, shortly before their departure to become missionaries in Japan on October 20. Jane Addams described Barnabas as “a very pleasant gentleman with no trace of the missionary cant about him” who ”talks very intelligently upon Japanese prospects and affairs.”

The Haworths arrived in Japan in the fall of 1887 and lived first in Kanazawa, Kobe, and Osaka while conducting their missionary work. Eleanor makes it clear in one missive written in 1898 that she was too busy with duties at home and educating her children to write descriptive letters about Japan, as had been suggested by the head of her mission. Instead of writing about Japan herself, she sent along several letters that Mr Haworth had written to her and to three of their older children Wallace, Chloe and Porter while on his trip around southern Japan. Around 1900, the Haworths moved to Tokyo’s foreign settlement in Tsukiji, occupying a home owned by the Presbyterian Mission. It is there that Eleanor first heard of another missionary wife Agnes Coates’ efforts to consolidate three already existing home schools.

Agnes Coates was born Sarah Agnes Wintemute on September 9,1864 on a farm near Port Stanley, Ontario. The eldest of eight children and daughter of a sawmill and factory owner, she had a respectable middle-class, protestant upbringing. Agnes obtained her Mistress of Liberal Arts degree from Alma College, a Methodist academy in St Thomas, Ontario. The principal of the college, Benjamin Fish Austin, encouraged his female students to think of themselves as “man’s peers in rights, privileges and duties.” For Agnes, who had ambition and an appetite for adventure, this meant the unusual step of taking on mission work as a single woman. After graduation, she was selected by the Woman’s Missionary Society (WMS) to go to Japan, making her only the third woman they had sent to the country. Turning down a teaching position at Alma College, Agnes set out for Tokyo at the age of 21.

She began her new life in September 1886 working at the Toyo Eiwa Jo Gakko, a boarding school run by the WMS, and thrived despite a busy teaching schedule. Impressed by her performance, the WMS sent Agnes to establish a new school in Kofu in 1889, making her the only non-Japanese in the area at the time. Japan was considered to be much safer than China for women and female missionaries were much more likely to work alone than in other parts of Asia. With Agnes as principal the school quickly flourished to the point new buildings were required and by the time she left for Canada on furlough in 1892, it was well-established.

When she returned to Japan after a year at home, she did so as Mrs Harper Havelock Coates. She wrote that while she did not find Harper, a fellow missionary who had first gone to Japan in 1890, particularly good looking, she had decided that

Students and teachers of the Koshikawa school circa 1900, Myrtle Hagin is on the far right (Photo courtesy of The United Church of Canada Archives/Victoria University Archives Acc. No. 86.067P/2, p. 19)

“he would probably be a comfortable man to live with.” The marriage meant that due to regulations Agnes had to resign from her previous duties and perform more informal duties in support of her husband’s missionary work. In addition to teaching Sunday School, writing articles for Motoko Hani’s pioneering women’s magazine, and running a myriad of meetings, Agnes was also raising her children—all six being born between 1895 and 1906. Although she had the help of four servants at home, Agnes described herself as “the busiest woman in Tokyo.” With the schooling of her own children, and those of the other missionaries, becoming more pressing, Agnes began to consider what educational options were available.

Probably the most advanced of the small schools operating in Tokyo at the time was Miss Fannie McCrae’s School in Tsukiji. Established by its eponymous headmistress in the Foreign Concession, the school was well-established and probably a decade old by the time Agnes became familiar with it. Miss McCrae, as she was simply known, had some considerable success, attributed to her “extra-ordinary [sic] personality” by the Japan Christian Yearbook. In 1894, a letter to the Japan Weekly Mail from RJ Kirby notes that in addition to Miss McCrae, who had obtained her bachelor’s degree in London, the school had three other well-qualified teachers—Miss Dawson and Miss Wallace from the United States and a German teacher Miss Zitelmann. “Two boys, last summer, passed the matriculation examination for Harvard,” a 1897 letter to the same newspaper comments before continuing to give examples of other students who transitioned to well-known institutions in their home countries. Agnes herself noted the school’s academic reputation and tight organization in her letters.

A handwritten note in the school archive mentions that several children had previously attended a small school in the German Mission compound operated by the Bridel sisters. Louis Adolphe Bridel, a renowned Swiss lawyer, abolitionist, and early champion of women’s rights, taught at Imperial University at the time and it is likely that the note refers to Amelie and Marguerite Bridel, two of his five children.

Mrs Myrtle Hagin also operated a home school from her residence in Koishikawa. Myrtle and her husband Fred Hagin met while they were both attending college in Eureka, and arrived in Tokyo in 1900 as missionaries with Fred taking oversight of the work of Hongo Church near to the Imperial University (now Tokyo University). Myrtle described those years as “mainly teaching and caring for the children” referring to Edith (Class of 1913), Dan (Class of 1917) and Fanny (Class of 1919). In addition to her home school, Myrtle also taught Bible classes for young Japanese men and women and ran a Sunday school.

It seems to have been during the time that Agnes volunteered her teaching skills at the Koishikawa school that she and the other women there conceived of the idea to bring the three home schools together under one roof. “During the past year a school for a limited number of children has been conducted by two ladies at Koishikawa, the results of which have been such as to lead to larger plans for the ensuing year,” the Japan Weekly Mail wrote on July 18, 1903. “Last June Mrs Coates of the Canadian Methodist Mission called a number of the missionary mothers together to see what could be done in the way of establishing a school for our children,” Eleanor wrote home to her Mission Board in 1903. It was felt by those women involved that a proper school would allow

Ransford Miller, Harriet (1917), Lily and Lillian (1914)

Daniel Crosby Greene

mothers to do direct mission work and their children would be better educated. Eleanor assured Mr Speer that this was not just women’s ideas, for there were also “consultations with leading men of several missions” which finally led to the Prospectus, a small pamphlet which she enclosed.

Agnes was already known for her “good business head” having established the Yamanashi Eiwa Jo Gakko. When it came to founding a school for the international community, outside of the framework of any single entity, she was savvy enough to ensure that prominent men from the community were asked for their input about the idea of the Tokyo School for Foreign Children. On July 1st, the “committee of ladies”— presumably Agnes, Eleanor, Myrtle, and others—met with Bishop William Awdry, Professor John Trumball Swift (from Imperial University and correspondent of the New York Sun), Richard J Kirby (a British merchant and Consul for Chile), who had some involvement with Miss McRae’s school in Tsukiji, and Agnes’ husband Rev Harper Coates.

Daniel Crosby Greene, was also no doubt also consulted about the plans to open a school. Greene—who had experienced the challenges of raising his eight children in Tokyo first hand—was a luminary of the missionary world and was one of a three-man team charged with the responsibility of first translating the New Testament into Japanese. Greene was immediately and deeply interested in the idea of a good school in Tokyo that would be open to all, regardless of nationality, religion, or class. Greene would later Chair the School’s Board between 1904–12, and advocate for funding from philanthropists back in the States such as Andrew Carnegie and John D. Rockefeller.

The Japan Weekly Mail reported that plans “to immediately start an intermediate department and a primary department, including a kindergarten for children from 4 to 12 years of age were formally approved” at the meeting. The committee also decided to organize an academic course to prepare older children for entrance into college. Following the meeting Eleanor wrote that, “It fell to my share to make out the Course of Study which ... will show you the kind and amount of work we hope to do.” The committee also asked Eleanor to take charge of the school as the principal for the coming year—something she wrote she “was happy to do having had six years experience in teaching before coming to Japan, tho it is considerable of a responsibility when so many nationalities are concerned.”

Following the meeting a group of Patrons was established, which in addition to the men who had attended, included the great and good of Tokyo: Rev Dr Daniel Crosby Greene, Sir Claude MacDonald (British Ambassador to Japan), Lloyd C Griscom (United States Minister to Japan and newspaper publisher), Bishop John McKim (Anglican Bishop of Tokyo and Chancellor of Rikkyo University), Captain Francis Brinkley (Anglo-Irish owner of The Japan Mail and scholar), Rev Benjamin Chappell (Dean of the School of Theology Aoyama Gakuin), Rev Harvey Hugo Guy (professor of Greek and philosophy and Dean of Sei Gakuin), Rev Samuel Willis Hamblen (American Baptist Mission), Rev Henry M Landis (American Presbyterian Mission) and Dr Ludwig Hermann Loenholm (German professor of law at Imperial University).

The Kanda YMCA building circa 1903

In addition to this powerhouse board of patrons a Committee of Management was also established, which included: Ransford S Miller (who acted as treasurer) and his wife Lily from the American Legation, Emily Pengeley Buncombe (whose husband William was with the Christian Missionary Society), Myrtle Hagin, and the wives of some of the Patrons: Alice Hamblen, Joanna Kirby and Isabel Swift. Agnes Coates was appointed as the Chairman of the Committee and Business Manager of the school with Eleanor Haworth installed as Principal.

Time was of the essence as the school was slated to open just a month later in September. The committee had agreed that tuition revenue would be enough to allow them to hire Miss Carrie Newman from Vancouver, as the Superintendent of the Primary and Kindergarten Departments. The other grades would need to initially be staffed by the trained teachers already in the community such as Mary Chappell, who had taught at Ingleside Seminary, and specialist teachers such as Mary E Lloyd, graduate of South Kensington School of Art, French teacher Emily Pengeley Buncombe, who graduated from Rouen Academy, and German teacher Emma Landis who graduated from the Royal Normal School for Women in Dresden. Classics would be taught by Prof Takizo Takasugi from Waseda University who had previously taught at DePauw University in Indiana, while the Ueno Academy of Art would supply someone to teach wood carving and clay modeling. The school’s Prospectus was quickly put together and published—it remains the oldest surviving document in ASIJ’s archive (see page 3).

“The school opened the twenty-fourth of last month [September 1903] with an enrollment of fifty-eight. There are others coming soon,” Eleanor wrote home. (She was right and by the 1904–05 school year 122 children were enrolled.) “We have rented rooms in the YMCA Building, but it is a very inconvenient arrangement,” she added, explaining that only one or two rooms were available all day, and others only for an hour or so at a time. The complications of renting a piano that must be kept in one of the classrooms, yet be used for practice by students presented her a puzzle in how to arrange things. Agnes remembered things differently and later wrote that seven classrooms were rented.

No doubt it was Ransford Miller, who had originally come to Japan in 1891 as a secretary of the international committee of the YMCA, who facilitated the use of their building at 3 Mitsohiro-cho, Kanda. The Prospectus describes it as being in “a healthy part of the city on a broad, quiet street.” One advantage to the location was that the new electric tram service stopped right outside. Although the classrooms in the brick building provided a convenient place to begin classes, the need for a permanent facility was evident from the start. The Prospectus noted that: “A building that can be used exclusively for the school, and, if possible more centrally located, will be secured as soon as funds will allow.” In the following year, the school relocated to three buildings in Tsukiji—one formerly used by the Tokyo Union Church, the Parish House of the American Episocopal Mission and a smaller building belonging to the Church Missionary Society—in what was the first of many moves during its first three decades.

Ginza circa 1904 showing the newly electrified tram system

Agnes later wrote that “three-fourths of the pupils were from missionary homes at first,” which was not surprising given those involved in its conception. She was clear to point out that other community interests were included, with representation from the business community on the Board as well as an international faculty and student body. “The school has not closed its doors to the Japanese tho we can only take a small proportion. We now have Dr [Inazo] Nitobe’s adopted son [Yoshio Class of 1913],” Eleanor wrote at the time. Nitobe, who had converted to Christianity while at University in Hokkaido and later to Quakerism while studying at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, was an educator, diplomat, and prolific author best known in the West for his book Bushido: The Soul of Japan (1900)—later his portrait graced Japan’s ¥5,000 note between 1984–2004. He and his wife Mary Elkinton, who he had met in Philadelphia, had adopted Yoshio, who attended ASIJ from 1903–06, following the death of their son Thomas.

Despite the fact that the Tokyo School for Foreign Children began classes in September 1903, the official date of the school’s founding would prove to be contentious in the future. Agnes always maintained that school began in 1903 and wrote several times to dispute the 1902 foundation date preferred by later administrations. In 1935, she wrote a three page document on the early history of the school, which she followed up with a further five pages that addressed the date issue and other inaccuracies she had found in a student essay printed in The Japan Times. She wrote that It would not have been possible for the school to open any earlier due to the lack of tram service, referring to the newly formed Tokyo Densha Tetsudo that began operating an electric tram service between Shimbashi and Shinagawa in the summer of 1903.

However, since 1910, references to the school’s beginning had claimed a 1902 starting date, suggesting that the discussion and plans for the Tokyo School for Foreign Children on the part of the Koishikawa teachers, including Agnes, and the establishment of their school in Myogadani was the “real” start of the school. The 1902 date was consistently used thereafter. In both the 1920s and again in 1935, the 1903 start date was brought to the attention of the Board of Trustees as the only possible one, but in both cases the Trustees preferred to use 1902 as the starting date. That date has been used ever since.

Foundation dates aside, what is indisputable is that the school’s existence is due to the determination, experience, and intelligence of the women involved and the support they received from the wider community for their well-considered plan. It is worth remembering how few women received formal education beyond the lower grades at the time and yet the missionary wives involved in ASIJ’s founding held college degrees and were experienced educators themselves. Over the years many have repeated the story of a group of mothers getting together to start a school. While that may be true, it is a little reductive and those involved were qualified beyond just being mothers. Agnes Coates, Eleanor Haworth, Myrtle Hagin and their colleagues were also well-educated, professional teachers who saw the necessity and value that a good school would provide the international community. Although Agnes would not approve of the date, we celebrate our 120th Anniversary this year and recognize that without their work we would not be here today.

Master Planners

Matt Wilce talks to the team of architects from Ennead about creating a new master plan for the Chofu Campus.

A drizzly gray Monday morning isn’t necessarily the best time to take a tour of campus, but that didn’t dampen the spirits of a group of eager second graders tasked with showing off the exterior spaces in the Elementary School. Their guests were the team of architects from Ennead, the New York firm engaged to develop ASIJ’s next master plan for the Chofu Campus. With several of our buildings—including the Elementary School donut where their tour began—dating from the early 1960s and a campus that has grown and changed significantly over the subsequent decades, the need for a comprehensive master plan for the future is clear.

After considering several renowned architectural firms, ASIJ’s Board selected Ennead to conduct the master planning process. With 55 years of experience, the firm is internationally recognized for its planning and design work, principally in the public sector for educational, scientific and cultural institutions. The firm has developed full master plans and other enhancements for several larger EARCOS schools, as well for schools in the Middle East and Europe. The firm has also worked on master plans and building projects for universities such as Princeton, Harvard, Yale, Penn, Columbia, Cornell, and Stanford.

Anders Evenson meets his second-grade tour guide Minh Tran and Alex O’Briant talk to parents in a focus group at the ELC campus

At the end of October, four members of the Ennead team visited Tokyo to get to know our community and learn more about ASIJ first hand. Having already spent the weekend in a retreat with the leadership team and Board of Directors as well as holding focus groups with each of the fourth grade classes, the Ennead team had already heard about the Japanese garden in the donut by the time their tour guides proudly showed off the lush green space.

“One of the things that was really surprising for me was how much greenery was important for especially the younger grades. Every one of them mentioned that they want more greenery,” noted architectural designer Anders Evenson. Anders, who grew up in Tokyo and attended St Mary’s International School, was the team member already the most familiar with the campus. His sisters Ingrid Evenson ‘19 and Astrid ‘15 both graduated from ASIJ and Ingrid, who is currently studying architecture at Cornell University, worked as an intern in Ennead’s New York office this summer, contributing further insights to the team’s pre-trip preparations.

In addition to talking about the impact of nature and accessibility to Nogawa Park, the elementary students also discussed the need for quiet spaces for contemplation and the sensory needs of different types of learners. “It was surprising that at that age they already are thinking about different modalities of learning,” commented Minh Tran, senior associate at Ennead.

“In elementary school typically you’d expect students to think along the lines that you come to school, you go to your classroom, you’re in your classroom all day, and you go home,” commented Alex O’Briant, a Principal at Ennead. “And the fact that they’re already talking like high school students and saying the classroom is the least important thing to them is interesting. It’s the network of social spaces outside the classroom that are really what define your experience more broadly and more powerfully. And it did seem like the elementary school kids were just as clued into that,” he added. “It’s refreshing to hear how consistent that message was because that’s the kind of architecture we make, the kind of spaces we plan.”

In addition to their second grade tour guides, the team conducted focus groups with all of the fourth grade classes, fifth grade design tech students and third grade class representatives, middle school Leadership EXPLO, student reps from grades 9–12, high school Student Council and AP environmental science students. They also heard from the adults on campus and held sessions with faculty reps and the systems leaders who oversee support services such as technology, transportation and facilities. Three in-person and one virtual focus group gave the opportunity for parents and alumni to consider questions such as “What is the optimal size for ASIJ?” and imagine what the headline will be in The Japan Times—or viral social media post—in 10 years when the master plan is complete. Conducting such community input sessions is only part of the process though.

“You start by just trying to understand a place from afar, and then you go to the place and do this second part, which is, okay, now let’s really understand it. And there’s always an interesting moment where you look at those initial instincts versus the really valuable information you discover on the ground and you figure out what was on and what assumptions were wildly off,” Alex says. “Once you understand the place and begin to document it—document the thoughts of its community, of people, and users—and begin to document the actual physical spaces that we develop a deeper understanding.” Ennead’s goal is to “holistically think about how to evolve the campus to better support the mission,” Alex explains. “So for us that only happens through this kind of deep engagement process.”

Don Weinreich interviews high school students about their use of facilities and ideas for the future

Minh elaborates on their process explaining that they had already conducted a site analysis beforehand. “We knew what some of the questions we wanted to ask were. But now that we’ve visited the campus, we can further that analysis,” she says. “Of course, there’s also an assessment of the facilities presented noting when all the buildings were designed. But now that we get to see it in person, there’s an assessment of what their physical health is and what their use is as well.” Considering a community’s culture is also vital she adds, “We call that a campus realignment. A lot of times it’s saying, how do we interface with our larger community? How do we interface with community, city, country? In many cases, it’s about creating a clarity in your space planning.”

In addition, the site visit is also about alignment and ensuring the team understands the School’s aspirations and pedagogical goals. Alex notes that knowing the growth plan and educational goals is important in allocating space “especially since when we are actually determining how big future buildings need to be, we have to factor this in because the reality is that some of these classrooms have to be bigger than they used to be to meet modern pedagogical goals.” Minh adds that “we know a typical lecture format classroom is not how learning is done anymore. There’s flexibility needed in a classroom. There’s collaboration in the classroom. We talked about needs around neurodiversity, right? So making sure that the master plan meets these needs is important.”

Another important part of the process is the phasing of the master plan. “What the phasing component is about, is really looking at what the priorities are, what the limitations are, and developing a plan forward. What you hope is that the plan forward is not a linear thing, but it actually gives you choice,” Alex says. “Change has to be managed among your stakeholder community because there are a lot of people who, no matter how chaotic this campus might be, it’s the one that they know and that they relate to. And so suddenly creating an unfamiliar place can be really detrimental to your community, to your alumni,” he notes. “So a lot of their campus realignment approach is about change management and first of all, getting people excited about the potential.” What was interesting in the focus groups was “that a lot of the things that people want to keep are not things that you literally physically have to keep, like everybody wants to keep the kiosk,” Alex says. “Everybody wants to keep the idea of a kiosk and that’s something you can work with because we can make it way better. Mixing it in with a library, a media lab next to it, you know?” Of course, the iconic school gate and senior stones will be preserved, but Alex notes that ”ultimately it’s interesting when you ask people what they want to keep, they’re looking to keep a spirit of a place and cultural sense of place, not necessarily specific physical things.”

It will be several months until Ennead presents us with their proposed master plan next spring, when we will engage our stakeholders again on the future campus design. We’re not sure that our fourth grader Jackson’s wish for a river running through campus is a possibility, but isn’t it wonderful to think about how something like that would shape our future student’s learning.

Big Fish

When ASIJ icon Gary Fish (FF ’65–95, AP ’76–77, ’78–93) passed away in August, there was an outpouring of memories and anecdotes from the community. Here his son David Fish ’90 reflects on Gary’s life and teaching career and other friends and former students share their reminiscences.

Gary Gene Fish of Livingston, MT, passed away on Friday, August 12, 2022 at 81 years old. Gary was born on September 19, 1940 in Livingston and attended local schools, graduating from Park County High School in 1958, where he served as student body president in his senior year. After graduation, he entered the US Air Force Academy before enrolling at the University of Montana, where he graduated with a BA in history and political science in 1962. While at the University of Montana he was a Grizz cheerleader (on a dare he tried out for the team and was selected!), a member of the University Model UN team, and a member of the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity.

After graduation, Gary spent a few years teaching and traveling Europe before finding a home as a history and Latin teacher at ASIJ in 1965, where he remained off and on for 30 years. In 1968, he enrolled at the University of Arizona, where he obtained an MA in Oriental studies and where he met his future wife Alaete (FF ’78–95, AP ’76–77, ’78–93). After graduation, he and Alaete moved back to Tokyo together, where they were married and Alaete was employed at ASIJ, as well. After two years, the couple spent some time together in Alaete’s native Brazil before eventually returning to Japan where they finally settled in 1978 with their two children.

Gary taught a variety of subjects at ASIJ and started several programs. Part of his vast history curriculum included India and East Asian History where every student was quizzed on “What US state comes closest in land area to that of Japan?” The answer, of course, was Montana! He started the cross country team with fewer than ten runners. The team often trained by running through the Tama cemetery, and people would often ask Gary to tell stories about his own runs through the cemetery at night being followed by cars, or his occasional jogs home from Shinjuku after the trains stopped. When a suggestion was made by a senior to start a thespian society at ASIJ, Gary made it a reality. Year after year, he presented the drama award at the annual Awards Assembly. He directed Fall Plays, the One Acts, and Spring Musicals. He also taught a drama class for many years. In 1990, he was granted a sabbatical leave to study theater and Buddhism for a year at the University of Montana. He returned to ASIJ and continued teaching there until his retirement in 1995.

Outside of ASIJ, Gary was involved in many ventures. He took numerous lead roles in the Tokyo International Players productions, was the lead singer of the Montana Fish, a country western band composed of ASIJ faculty, and did some stand up comedy. He and his wife participated in faculty fun runs that took place in the cemetery before watching the final day of a sumo tournament at parties hosted by Ki Nimori (FF ’60–02, AP ’74–84). Annually, the Fishes would hold the International Beer Festival where the cost of admission consisted of a can of beer from around the world; the cans would end up in Gary’s ever-growing collection.

Following his retirement, he eventually settled down in Livingston, MT—his birthplace—with his wife. He was heavily involved in acting, directing, and entertaining. Gary went on six national tours as an actor with the Montana Repertory Theater and was involved with the local theater productions as well as acting for commercials and movies when cast. He was also an active member of the St Andrew’s Episcopal Church as a choir member and served on the vestry.

Gary had many role models growing up such as baseball players like Stan Musial, Red Schoendienst, Dizzy Dean, Enos Slaughter and Harvey Haddix. But his two most influential role models were his mother and father. They too had a wonderful sense of humor. His father, a salesman, was also a talented musician and entertainer. He had been in the Marine Corp and wounded in the battle for Okinawa in World War II, but never spoke ill of those he fought against and showed much compassion and forgiveness, which was very influential to Gary. Later in life, Gary’s role models included Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, and Martin Luther King for their teachings of non-violence, forgiveness, racial equality, compassion and humility. He was a devote Christian but actively studied other religions and belief systems, including Buddhism, Confucianism, Taoism, Hinduism, and Islam.

He had a wonderful sense of humor and enjoyed being in comedies, entertaining people and making them laugh. He loved teaching and inspiring students to think creatively. Montana and its natural beauty as well as the country of Japan were emblazoned on his heart. His curiosity of all things led to a lifelong joy of reading and discovery. When once asked why he didn’t become a politician, his answer was that he believed he could make a greater impact on the world as a teacher. He did just that. He left an impact that has been felt globally. My favorite memory of Mr Fish is when he emceed the student talent show in ’87 or ’88; Every time he introduced an act, he appeared as a different character. Absolutely amazing and hysterical. I wouldn’t be in the TV business today if it weren’t for what he taught me as a young drama student. He was an inspiration to me, not only as a teacher, but as a father and husband. I’m grateful to have had him in my life. Oh, and who remembers the Steve Martin photo at his desk that was signed “Best Fishes.”

Gary Fish performing at the HS Talent Show in 1986

—Bob Redell ’89

I got to know Gary more after returning to the States, due to ASIJ faculty reunions. After settling in California and later marrying, my new husband was combining our contacts. When he read Gary’s name, he commented, “I used to know a Gary Fish. We were acolytes together in the Episcopal church in Livingston, Montana.” Amazingly, it was Gary! The thought of Gary brings the picture of a fellow dressed in overalls, which became his uniform here. Gary was so full of humor, and he valued and honored not only friends near and far, but mankind in general. He lived and acted on his values. I was privileged to have known him.

—Nancy Moore (FF ’65–68)

One Saturday night, after a session at Alaete’s favorite Brazilian restaurant in Shibuya, a group of us ended up heading west on the Chuo Line, and Gary was working his magic. His antics had us laughing, and several young Japanese commuters were joining in the fun. Jokes, pantomimes, his smile. When the train stopped at Nakano, the young people surrounded Gary and “kidnapped” him as they moved across the platform to their express train. Everybody wanted Gary to be in their production. From community theater to ASIJ plays to the Montana Rep Theater, Gary was a wanted man. Even when he wasn’t acting, he played leading roles. As a husband, father, teacher, colleague, and friend, Gary performed in a way that made others feel good—he was a man of vitality, integrity, and humor. The “kidnappers” on the Chuo Line that night released Gary and waved farewell just before the doors closed, and as our train left for Kichijoji, Gary kept talking, laughing, and entertaining. Gary won many Academy Awards for having a positive influence on those of us lucky enough to know him.

—Dan Gogerty (FF ’88–05)

Gary Fish was teaching in the High School while I survived in the Elementary, so we didn’t run into each other often. But we had great gatherings on the weekends. We always looked forward to and enjoyed those fun times together, especially with Gary and Thurman Dennis (FF ’62–93) keeping us well-entertained with stories of their adventures. Those memories of Tokyo and of ASIJ will never be forgotten.

—Clara Kobayashi (FF ’62–71)

Gary Fish with the members of the One Acts Play I Know I Saw Gypsies in 1995

Gary, Rich Zielinski (FF ’82–83), Ian Taylor (FF ’78–88), Tim Willson (FF ’80–87, AP ’85–87), and musical choreographer Shuny Palmisano pose for a photo in the Little Theater in 1983

My family moved to Japan in the fall of 1988, and on one of my first days at ASIJ, I saw a flyer about auditions for the Fall Play, M*A*S*H. Knowing I needed to make friends, I decided to try out. I was lucky enough to be cast in a great part by Mr Fish—he inadvertently set the whole course of my ASIJ social life over the coming years! He was also my IEA teacher that fall (history of India and East Asia), and like many of his students, I remember struggling to come with creative designs for maps of India, China, and Japan. I tried making an “upside-down map,” but unfortunately I got no points for creativity. I emailed with him a couple of years ago and brought this up, and he replied, “Today, I would probably give you extra points for creativity for an upside down map of Japan. I’ve mellowed with age.” He went on sabbatical for my senior year and I really missed him.

—Jeff Slutzky ’91

Alaete Fish, Phil Knobel (FF ’70–75), Gary Fish, and Maurice Rasmussen (FF ’68–74) pose for a photo in 2015

Karen Seevers (FF ’77–87, ’90–95, ’96–17, AP ’91–06) with Alaete and Gary in 1992

Gary was above all a “people person,” eager to socialize and share his ready wit and smile. In short, he was hilarious, regaling us with comical tales and impromptu accents, all the while being kind and caring, never having a critical or untoward comment about others. And beyond all of his sterling personality traits, Gary was an outstanding teacher, devoted to his students and to his craft.

—Polly Phillips Vasche (FF ’65–67)

Gary with One Act Plays stage managers Mika Tamura ’95 and Lisa Napoli ’96 in 1994

Gary Fish was a wonderful human being. He was smart, funny, and demanding in a good way. I took modern European history from him. “You will marshall your arguments,” he told us one day in 1974. I had never heard the word “marshall” used in that way before, but I understood what he meant. We marshaled our arguments. Thank you, Gary Fish.

—Miriam Rich ’76

We organized faculty ski trip to Ki Nimori’s home village of Kijimadaira, Niigata, where Gary demonstrated his Western Montana ski skills—including a one-and-a-half somersault on the slope—that impressed all of us!

—Peter Nagafuchi (FF ’66–68)

Libby Beyreis ’90, Gary Fish, Julie McCord ’93, Sakurako Nishida ’90, and Barbara Knode (FF ’88–94 AP ’67–86) pose for a photo in 1990

Andrew Melton ’94, Jen Van Ness ’94, Gary Fish (FF ’65–95, AP ’76–77, ’78–83), Alaete Fish (FF ’78–95, AP ’76–77, ’78–83), and Daniel Fish ’93’s daughter Jordan taken at the Grand Canyon in Yellowstone on July 29th, 2020 Gary was so kind to meet us in Montana and show us around Yellowstone Park the day before we moved back to Japan. It was such a memorable experience for us.

We talked about the old days, and it was so nice to connect with a former teacher. We love thinking about his time at ASIJ in the 1960s, before the internet, when long distance phone calls were difficult and expensive.

—Jen Van Ness ’94 and Andrew Melton ’94

A Wise Choice

Miranda Liu profiles Wise Young ’68, one of two recipients of our inaugural Alumni Impact Award in 2022. A pioneering medical professional, Wise has brought hope to a generation of spinal cord injury patients.

Founding Director of the W. M. Keck Center for Collaborative Neuroscience at Rutgers University, Dr Wise Young ’68 was awarded the ASIJ Alumni Impact Award last spring for his lifetime body of medical research. His pioneering work on the treatment of spinal cord injuries and regenerative medicine has impacted the lives of countless people and advanced the science of such treatments. The recipient of numerous plaudits for his work, Wise was named “America’s Best” in the field of spinal cord injury research by TIME magazine in 2001.

After graduating from Stanford in 1977, Wise attended New York University, which had what was regarded as the top neurosurgery program in the country at Bellevue Hospital. “I was in my second year as a resident when I took care of someone with a spinal cord injury. At that time, there was nothing you could do for spinal cord injury. I was blown away by that,” Wise told The Ambassador in 1998. “And that’s what I had to tell the family of this 17-year-old boy who broke his neck in a wrestling accident during a match. I was on the wrestling team at ASIJ, so it struck close to home. I thought, ‘This guy just bruised his spinal cord and he’s going to be paralyzed for the rest of his life. There must be something I can do.’ The worst feeling that one can have as a doctor is to feel helpless.” That experience prompted Wise to submit a grant proposal, the funding of which began his research in 1979.

Incredibly, the first therapy that Wise tried in the laboratory ended up proving to be effective. A number of scientists had described a progression of pathological changes in the spinal cord: at 30 minutes after injury, the injured area typically appeared relatively undamaged. However, over four to six hours, the spinal cord rapidly deteriorated, turning into a bloody soup in the middle. “I was curious as to how and why this occurred,” Wise told us in 1998. “Therefore I stuck electrodes into the spinal cord to measure blood flow and extracellular ions and used methylprednisolone (MP) to see its effect.” High dose MP remarkably prevented the fall in blood flow. “I realized that the attitude toward spinal cord injury was so pessimistic that nobody would be willing to accept my findings. The only way to prove it was to pull together a consortium to test it, rigorously. Before this could be done I had to show it was safe.” In 1981, Wise gave the therapy to 30 people with spinal cord injuries—17 of whom walked out of the hospital. From there, Wise was able to move to clinical trials and begin the long journey of getting this new approach to treating spinal cord injuries accepted by the medical community—something that took decades of perseverance to achieve.

But after years of publications and talks and the establishment of multiple foundations and symposia, Wise finally helped to bring about what he described as “a revolution in neuroscience.” When just a decade ago, the

majority of neuroscientists Wise interacted with were adamant that regeneration of the spinal cord was impossible, by 1998, that had made a 180-degree turnaround. “Most scientists who are knowledgeable about the field believe that effective regenerative therapies are not only possible but can be achieved within a relatively short time,” he told The Ambassador at the time.

Perhaps one of the most remarkable things about Wise’s work is that the driving factor behind his research was always to bring hope to patients with spinal cord injuries. He shared that he felt frustrated and without a good answer for years when asked with skepticism if he wasn’t “raising false hope” by journalists throughout his career, before it finally came to him: “While hope is painful, no hope is devastating.” Although not a possibility at the time, Wise met the 17-year-old patient during his residency, building a future where “restoring sufficient function to people so that the injury no longer prevents them from doing the things they want to do,” is something he felt strongly about. In fact, when he was interviewed on the Today Show in 1995 regarding prominent actor Christopher Reeve’s spinal cord injury, Wise emphasized the importance of facing serious cases such as Christopher’s with a positive mindset, stating, “This is exactly the kind of thing that becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. If everybody gives up hope, nothing will happen and he will indeed remain the way he is.”

Almost three decades later, Wise is still working hard to bring hope to patients with spinal cord injuries and their families. The spinal cord injury website he founded in 2001, CareCure.net, contains both up-to-date news on treatments for spinal cord injury and a forum to allow patients and their families to share resources and exchange information about clinical trials, services, doctors, and clinics. From 2003 to 2018, Wise established and led the China Spinal Cord Injury Network to determine efficacy of lithium and umbilical cord blood mononuclear cell therapies of people with chronic complete spinal cord injuries in China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan with positive results in multiple rounds of clinical trials. Further clinical trials in the United States were put on pause for COVID, but got back underway again in mid-2021.

The human emotion behind Wise’s work was a motivating factor for those who nominated him. Mara Purl ’68 noted that “his extraordinary

Wise in his lab in New York in 1985

contribution to the field of medical research and his dedication to helping those with spinal cord injury to walk again” moved her to submit him for consideration for the award. Marty Honda ’68, who remembers Wise as a “very creative guy” ever since their time in high school, agreed, sharing that he nominated Wise because of his outstanding research that brought new hope for patients.

The same held true for the members of the selection committee, made up of ASIJ alumni, faculty, staff, and student representatives. Current faculty member Susan Islascox shared that she was inspired by Wise’s dedication to research and advancement in regenerative medicine and moved at the opportunities not previously possible that he is providing in the lives of those with spinal cord injuries. Fellow committee member Ellie Reidenbach ’22 found the story of Wise’s work moving and voted for him “because he brings hope to people worldwide who lost their mobility through spinal cord injuries.” She added that she was “inspired by how he dedicates his life to contributing to research that will help millions of people. Additionally, I think he is a great role model for all the STEM students at ASIJ who started science research to make a positive impact on the world.”

Alumni Council Award Subcommittee Co-Chair Gary Yamada ’00’s comment really sums up what a meaningful impact Wise has made in his field, sharing, “Wise’s accomplishments speak for themselves. His treatments have improved the quality of life for so many people.”

The Alumni Awards Committee

The Alumni Awards Committee, led by co-chairs Buddy Marini ’85 and Gary Yamada ’00, along with Sandra OrtonTweed ’85, Naomi Hayase ’99, Kelly O’Brien ’02, and Alex Heideman ’11, reviewed 34 nominees for the 2021–2022 Alumni Impact Award. It was a challenging selection process, as the nominees had incredible accomplishments. After careful deliberations, the committee, along with ASIJ faculty and student representatives, selected The Thirteen Sisters and Wise Young ’68 for the inaugural recipients.

This year, Minako Abe ’88 joined the committee, and we introduced a new ASIJ Young Alumni Changemaker Award, which will recognize an alum who graduated within the last ten years and has brought about a significant positive change to a community or institution. We are looking forward to seeing more alumni nominations and their positive contributions in their field or pursuit. If you know of a strong candidate for either award, please submit your nominations through ASIJ’s website linked at the QR code below. All ASIJ alumni are eligible to be nominated, regardless of whether they graduated from ASIJ or not.

https://www.asij.ac.jp/ alumni/alumni-awards

Strength and Courage Award

Shun Ueno ’22, the recipient of this year’s Strength and Courage Award, speaks to us about perseverance and the challenges he faced after a life-changing accident.

The seventh annual Strength and Courage Award was presented to Shun Ueno ’22 in June of this year. The award of ¥1 million is presented annually to a senior who has displayed courage and personal strength during their time at ASIJ. “It was a little bit surprising when I received the email from Ms Clear that I had been nominated for the Strength and Courage Award, because I had decided not to nominate myself. I was really grateful that someone had nominated me,” Shun commented.

Deserving students are nominated by faculty, counselors, and administrators at the end of the first semester of their senior year, and invited to submit an essay describing the ways in which strength and courage played a role in their lives. Submissions are reviewed by the Child Protection Task Force composed of students, counselors, administrators, and members of the Board of Directors. Nominees are then interviewed by the task force as a part of the selection process. One of those nominating Shun was Doug McQueen, Shun’s college counselor. Doug, who got to know Shun very well through the college admission process, described him as “a rock,” and an inspiration to “our faculty, [his] cohort, and ASIJ as a whole.”

Shun’s outstanding strength and courage is rooted in an experience that not many other high school students could possibly fathom, not to mention face: after sustaining a severe spinal cord injury during middle school, he walks with a cane. And while many of Shun’s teachers and classmates see him as an inspiration, it was a long and difficult journey for Shun to be able to see himself in that light. Eloquent and well-spoken, Shun evocatively described his mixed feelings towards his cane, or “partner in crime,” as a love-hate relationship. “We live together, go to school together, travel together… he supports me through my hardships, and is always there for my triumphs. He is so vital to my everyday life, and for that I am forever grateful. Yet I also hate him,” he shared. “Despite everything he has given me, I wish I wouldn’t have to see him ever again.” It was only in recent years that Shun came to realize that his cane could signify not loss but hope.

Shun first came to ASIJ in Grade 6 after three years in Australia. An athletic child, he had thrived in his rural town in Gold Coast, Queensland, enjoying the opportunities available to him in the nature that surrounded his home and school. “I would play rugby during lunch at school, and I really took up golf. We lived really close to the golf course, so I got

really serious about it,” Shun shared. “We were actually only planning to stay in Australia for two years, but since I really wanted to continue playing golf, my family actually extended our stay.” Ever modest, Shun was hesitant to admit that he was “pretty good,” but in fact, he was selected by the state of Queensland to play at a national level. After returning to Tokyo, the urban environment led Shun to trade his golf clubs for a skateboard. “Even though I couldn't do cool tricks, I just loved skating downtown, you know, skating through the streets,” Shun reminisced. “I just loved that feeling of freedom.”

Shun dreamed of a career in sports for his first year and a half at ASIJ before his family returned to Australia for a brief visit during winter vacation of his seventh grade year. It was while enjoying his holiday in the backyard pool at a friend’s house that Shun’s life was turned upside down. Unfamiliar with the layout and depth of the pool, Shun mistakenly dove in headfirst in a shallow area. “I clearly remember everything before and after. The only thing I don’t remember anything about is actually hitting the bottom,” he recollected, recounting the terrifying experience. “After diving in, the next thing I remember is that I was just floating face down in the water. At first, I tried to move my arms, but I couldn’t. So I thought, I just broke both of my arms, because I dove in with them straight in front of me. And so then I tried to turn my body with my legs, and I realized I couldn’t do that either. So I was fully conscious, face down in the water, and I kept trying to turn my body to get air, but I couldn’t.”

Shun was soon rescued, but only after being face down in the water for more than five minutes. After being rushed to the hospital, the first priority was to check for brain damage that may have occurred after being left without oxygen for so long. “It was crazy,” Shun shared. “I had only seen MRIs and CAT scans in movies.” But he was fortunate—the tests came back showing that he hadn’t suffered brain damage. “The first thing the doctor told me was, ‘You’re very lucky.’ I was very, very close. Maybe 30 seconds more and I would have had brain damage.”

But that left the question of his spinal cord injuries. “When the doctor told me I was lucky, I was like, ‘What are you talking about?!’” Shun admitted. “I just had no clue what was going on. At that age, I didn’t know the specific functions of a spinal cord. I couldn’t connect the fact that I damaged my spine to the reason I couldn’t move my body. So it was just pure confusion as to why I was being told I was lucky that I didn’t have brain damage and why I couldn’t move any part of my body.”

He soon found out that the road to recovery was long and uncertain. At first, he was put into a halo neck brace, which connects to the patient’s head with metal bolts in order to stabilize the neck. “For three months it was just constant headaches,” Shun recalled, “It was not a good time for me. And until I got the brace off, I couldn’t start rehab.” During the time Shun was in the halo neck brace, his family decided to return to Japan for his rehabilitation process, so Shun was forced to lay on a stretcher in the back of the airplane for the duration of the long journey back to Tokyo. “Obviously, I couldn’t move, and I was like maybe ten centimeters away from the ceiling,” he recounted. “Now that I can look back on it and laugh, I suppose it makes a good story. But I think that it is in the top five worst moments in my life.”

Back in Japan, he was checked in to a rehabilitation center in Saitama specifically for people with injuries and disabilities like his own. He was there from January until August, for about eight months. “Usually it’s around six,” he shared,” because with spinal cord injuries, the first six months kind of determines the trajectory of how recovery will go. But because I was so young, that window was a little wider than usual for me.”

The rehabilitation process was physically and emotionally grueling for Shun, especially for a middle schooler at a time in his life where teenagers usually gain independence. “It was indescribably demoralizing and humiliating,” he recalled. “I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. How could I when I couldn’t perform the most basic tasks on my own anymore? I couldn’t get dressed. I couldn’t even eat. I couldn’t go to the bathroom, so I had to wear diapers and have a catheter, which was pretty degrading. I had no independence and I had to ask my nurses to do everything.” He also turned away visits from friends during the entirety of his stay at the hospital in Saitama. “I reasoned that my hospital was too far for them to visit, but looking back, that was a lie,” he confessed. “I was too embarrassed and scared to be seen in my most vulnerable state, especially by my closest friends. I wanted them to remember the ‘old me.’”

But while his lack of independence was the cause behind many of Shun’s negative feelings of frustration and humiliation during his rehabilitation, it was also a strong motivator. “Independence was a very big thing that I strove towards, and that motivated me for sure. Because I lost all of that. I had no independence; I was being fed by my younger brother or the nurses. So that was a big part of my motivation, thinking, ‘I don’t want to be in diapers forever.’ So continuing to push myself in the pursuit of independence was great for my recovery. I couldn’t give up, because if I did, I would have been letting one fateful accident get the better of me.”

It took eight months of intense effort and many struggles, but finally, Shun regained enough mobility to walk with a cane. “That was the proudest moment of my life,” Shun recalled. But his discharge from the rehabilitation center and return to Tokyo for his eighth grade year at ASIJ came with mixed emotions. His new independence came with a sense of pride and relief for all that he had overcome, but his need for a cane was bittersweet, Shun recalled. “That time marked the beginning of my love-hate relationship with my cane—a union that served as a constant reminder of everything I had lost.”

Shun receiving the Strength and Courage award from Doug McQueen at the high school award ceremony

Shun returned to school a week later than his classmates, and while he had made incredible progress since his accident, he was extremely self conscious of how he had changed since his friends had last seen him. Despite the fact that independence had been a major motivator for him during his time in rehab, he was still forced to rely on the help of others to get through the school day. “I was still very dependent,” he recalled. “Back then, I wasn’t able to carry my own backpack, so I would have to ask people to carry my bag to the next class. I had this big ankle brace, and I had to walk much slower and I was really wobbly.” But even in the face of these obstacles, Shun remained determined. “The doctors had said that maybe an electric wheelchair was an option for me, but I absolutely did not want to come to school in a wheelchair. Maybe I was being immature in that sense, but I was so stubborn on that point.” But it wasn’t easy—Shun wasn’t even able to eat in the cafeteria until his sophomore year of high school, having lunch in a separate room during eighth and ninth grades. “For so long, the crowd was just too much for me,” he shared. “But as I gradually grew stronger and more comfortable weaving through people, I was finally able to go back to eating with everyone. And even though that’s nothing for a normal student, it was very, very big for me.”

One big source of strength for Shun through his return to school was his friends. After fear and embarrassment caused him to keep them at arm’s length during his rehabilitation process, Shun was worried about connecting with his old friend at school. “I was obviously very, very nervous,” he recalled. “I think I mentally aged so much during those nine months, because there was so much going on in the hospital, not just rehab, but life experiences in general. I was worried I would feel pretty emotionally distant from your average middle schooler, and I was afraid that maybe I wouldn’t be able to connect with my friends again.” But he was relieved to have the exact opposite experience of his fears. “Everyone was very welcoming,” Shun recounted. “I felt very happy and very cherished. It was really heartwarming.” And Shun’s friends’ support wasn’t limited to welcoming him back—as he learned to navigate campus with his cane, his friends learned how to help him. “Once I knew that if something went wrong, I had the support of my friends, that really boosted my confidence. I knew I had someone to lean on.”

But alongside the physical challenges Shun faced returning to school after his accident, it was difficult to mentally and emotionally overcome the barriers he came up against. “I very clearly remembered life before the accident,” he recalled. “And I would always compare my experiences now and then.” It was especially difficult for his eighth grade year, which was spent in the same middle school building he’d been in for his sixth and the first half of his seventh grade years before his accident. “I would always think, ‘I would just have run up the stairs back then. Now I have to go around and ride the elevator.’ Stuff like that was hard—the fact that I knew what it felt like to be ‘normal’ was tough for me.”

“It’s still an ongoing challenge in some sense,” he reflected further. “I’m much better at thinking positively now. But it’s still a little bit tough, because my body still remembers how it feels to run. I feel a little like a bird that was once free in a cage. Now, obviously, I don’t feel that way all the time. But back in eighth grade, in that same building, it felt like, just a year ago I was running around with the other kids, and now I’m on the sidelines just watching my friends play soccer during lunch.”

But as time went on, with the support of his friends and others in the community, slowly, Shun’s mentality began to change. “With time I started to come to understand that it’s something I can’t change,” he recollected. “I thought, ‘I have to embrace this. I can’t just shy away from it forever, because if I have 80 years left to live, I can’t go on like this anymore.’ His attitude towards his cane, which he once saw as a symbol only of all he had lost, began to change. “I realized that it didn’t signify loss, but rather hope and appreciation. I remembered the days when I had nothing—no mobility, no independence, no freedom. So when I received anything such as the humble gift of moving my toes, I felt a profound sense of hope. This hope soon deepened to an appreciation of life itself as moving a single toe changed to moving my foot and then, with the help of my cane, to the ultimate gift of walking again. In some senses, I felt like the luckiest person in the world.”

The change in mentality only a few short years after an accident that permanently impacted his mobility already displays impressive strength, but Shun’s change in attitude didn’t just stop with hope for himself. “Something just clicked in my mind. I just recognized that my story can have an impact on people.” It started in small ways, like opening up about his experiences to Doug during college counseling sessions—Doug recollects being taken aback by Shun’s honesty, vulnerability, and frankness during their conversations together, describing Shun’s courage and resilience as “simply unfathomable.” Shun’s confidence continued to grow with time until he, the boy once ashamed for his friends to see him in a vulnerable state, stepped up and spoke to seventh grade students about resilience during an advisory lesson.

“Ms Vriend, one of the counselors, contacted me about presenting at a session on the theme of perspective. At the time, I was writing college essays and learning how to open myself up in words, so I thought it was a pretty good opportunity for me to share my story and potentially impact those kids,” Shun shared. “It was really big for me. It felt like the first full circle moment for me, because I broke my neck when I was in seventh grade, and I got to share my story for the seventh graders. It was a really special moment.” Monica Clear (FF ’17–22, AP ’17–22), the Safeguarding Coordinator during Shun’s senior year, was deeply impressed by his presentation, describing his courage as amazing. “It was super brave,” she commented.

Unsurprisingly, Shun’s impressive resilience and bravery shone through in his college essays, and he was accepted to his first choice school—Stanford University—in early December of his senior year. He’ll be facing new challenges, like living on Shun as a sixth-grader in 2016

his own in dorms for the first time and deciding what he wants to study. “It’s exciting but scary at the same time,” he admitted with a laugh. “I’ve never even been to campus. I feel like I have a blank canvas, in a sense, and I want to explore a lot of things and take a lot of classes.” His mature approach and comfort with uncertainty reflects the confidence of someone who knows he can overcome whatever challenges life throws at him. He’s truly living his motto, the Japanese saying “nana korobi ya oki” or “fall 7 times, get up 8.”

Now a young adult with a wider and more mature perspective, Shun still sometimes struggles with negative feelings about his cane from time to time. But his experiences help him view his situation from different perspectives. “I made the conscious choice to shift my perspective from comparing myself to what I was before the accident and instead start comparing to the time immediately after the injury when I had nothing,” Shun shared. “An example I used for the seventh grade presentation was based on the ‘cup half full’ adage. For me, even if my cup is four-fifths empty, I can’t be a four-fifths empty person. I have to be a one-fifth full person. I think that analogy really struck well with the kids.”

But for now, Shun is excited to begin his next chapter at Stanford. “I’m very interested in joining the Stanford Disability Alliance,” Shun shared eagerly. “My friends at ASIJ are so supportive, but I’m the only disabled person at this school, and even in the area where I live, I don’t see disabled people that often. So in a sense, I do feel like I’m alone in this. But since Stanford is a huge school, there are so many people like me that share similar experiences. And I’m just so excited to meet and talk with those people.”

As he heads off to college, Shun is well-equipped with the strength, courage, and positive perspective he’s gained to tackle any challenges he faces. He’s coming up on the sixth anniversary of the first time he walked with his cane, and he feels ready to face the future. “As I reflect on these years, I realize that with great adversity comes even greater selfgrowth,” he shared. “I have lost so much but gained so much more. I am excited to open doors, not just the ones once closed by my injury, but also the new doors of opportunity I will create for myself as I head into college and adulthood.”