Onkyo Braille Essay Contest 2006 -- Japanese Section ĦOtsuki Prize Essay "Now, with Our Students" Ms. Miki Tanabe (42) Yamato City, Kanagawa Prefecture |
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"Why was I born?" "Why do I live?" "What is happiness?" When I turned 20, I was asking myself these questions. I was also thinking very seriously about life and death. From childhood, I suffered from night blindness and tunnel vision. One of my earliest recollections is of my mother holding my hand as I was moved from a university hospital to another hospital. At the age of five, I was diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa and told that I would become blind in the future. To comfort me, my mother told me that everyone is born with a calling in this world, something unique to each person, and that I should try to find mine. I went to a normal public school, even though my eyesight was poor. Despite some bullying and my occasional refusal to go to school, I managed to qualify for university. But the degeneration of my eyes, which had slowed during my teenage years, began to worsen around the time I turned 20. The number of activities I needed help with increased accordingly. I sometimes felt I would rather die than live as a burden on others. Whenever such thoughts troubled me, though, my mother's words would come back to me in a vivid recollection. "What's my calling?" I asked myself. I had a strong desire to live to serve others' needs. After thinking about it for a while, I decided that I wanted to contribute to society by relieving people's stress through acupuncture and physical therapy. In order to become qualified, I went to a specialized school for the blind and majored in acupuncture and physical therapy. At the time I entered the school for the blind, I was writing normally. After three years, when I was about to graduate, I was writing with the thick side of a marker pen. Following the recommendation of my home-room teacher, I studied to become a teacher in a school for the blind. After two years of study, at the age of 27, I took up a new post in my old school. It had taken a tremendous amount of effort to land this job. By this time, however, my eyes were nearing the end of their days. In spite of the trouble with my eyes, I worked until the summer break. It got to the point where I could barely see any words at all. I felt I could no longer use regular printed materials in my class, but I was afraid of switching to Braille. I was too scared to stand on the teacher's platform when the second semester started, so I dodged school like a truant student. Sitting in front of my parents, I told them between tears that I had quit this job because of my blindness. They listened silently with their eyes downcast. Suddenly, my sister, who had been listening in, reproached me harshly. "What are you depending on, Miki?" she asked me. "What did you become a teacher for? Don't you teach more than just knowledge or academic subjects, but also a way of life? Showing them how you live, despite your blindness, is also an education." That was a wake-up call for me. I thought about what I was depending on, and realized I was just trying to avoid putting up a fight. I decided I should try again. Even if I quit this job, as long as I gave it my best shot there would be a way ahead for me. That was the start of my challenge with Braille. I tried to read a braille textbook with my fingers. I couldn't read and understand the content well at first, so I had to read the same part over and over. Sometimes I would get frustrated and throw the textbook down. The Braille dots became worn down by tears of frustration. It would take me three hours to prepare a 50-minute class. My feet were shaking as I stood on the platform, and my heart was beating fast. I was reading my teaching notes rather haltingly with my fingers. When I asked a student to read the textbook, it was too fast for me to follow. "Teacher! When can I stop reading?" one of the students asked sarcastically. I smiled at him and said, "You can finish at the proper spot, Einstein." By this time I had grown more self-confident. I just wanted him to see that I was getting by and that I was truly doing my best. After a few days, one of the students came up to me after class with a big smile and said out loud, "You've got guts. If I were you, I probably couldn't do what you're doing." I was so happy to hear that. At last they understood how I felt. From then on, they were helpful. They even chatted with me about private issues, such as their families and romances. Students who enter a school for the blind come from a variety of circumstances. Some with weak eyesight may have been working very hard in their offices or homes, but had nobody who could understand their situation, so they came to the school for the blind. Some may have suddenly become blind through an accident or a disease. I know exactly how these students feel, so I want to help them in any way I can. Tolstoy says, "If you want to be happy forever, live for other people." Happiness does not depend on external events, but on the way we interpret them. I believe people feel content when they are living to serve someone else, and we stay alive by living for others. Now, I live for my students, and I'm relishing the happiness. |
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