There is Value in 'Doing Nothing' Education

This article is written primarily for teachers who cannot stop working in a self-sacrificing way.

If you have more ideals and passion than anyone else, yet for some reason feel unrewarded and worn out in body and mind, please read until the end.

Also, while the main target is 'teachers,' self-sacrificing work habits apply to any profession, so I hope this serves as an opportunity for you to reflect by applying it to your own way of working. This is valuable content!

Now, in the previous column, I introduced a recommended mindset for those who work like Anpanman, tearing off a piece of their own head to give to a hungry child.

That is the idea that you don't have to do anything, it's better not to do anything, and that you are doing your job just by existing.

In this column, I would like to talk specifically about my experience that there is value in just being with students without doing anything, and that there are times when students will be grateful even if you do nothing.

This was ten years ago. I became the homeroom teacher for a student named Y in his third year of high school.

Y was the class mood maker and was good at lightening the atmosphere. ...However, on the other hand, he had a personality that was too strong in his sense of justice and hated anything crooked, so when he saw students with bad attitudes or unreasonable words and actions from teachers, he couldn't stop his irritation, and sometimes he would get into physical fights.

I witnessed those moments of conflict several times myself. At those times, I would say, 'Okay, okay, stop it,' and intervene to mediate, calming the excitement of both parties, but I didn't conduct any particular follow-up guidance afterward.

This is because I don't like digging into the causes of fights, listening to each side's arguments, or feeling that there is any meaning in reflecting for the future.

I would just say things like, 'Stop fighting' or 'It's more profitable to be in a good mood.'

I acknowledge that a fight happened. I also confirm as a fact that he initiated the physical confrontation.

That is all. I think that is enough.

In class, he was actually active in speaking up, laughed a lot, made others laugh, and I felt that it was easy to teach when he was there and that he was a grateful presence. But that was all. If he spoke to me after class, I would respond, but I wouldn't specifically speak to him myself. If asked a specific question, I would answer specifically. But if he asked a vague question like, 'What should I do to improve my classical Japanese deviation score?', I would answer, 'I don't know.' If he retorted, 'You're a teacher and you don't know!', I would grin and leave the classroom. Such communication happened maybe once a month, and I think I was a very indifferent homeroom teacher.

In the latter half of summer vacation, he came to me with a serious look and asked, 'Teacher, do you have a moment?' for a consultation.

It was about his career path. He was torn between University A and University B. He asked for my opinion on whether he should continue aiming for his first choice, University A, given his current grades.

At that time, Y talked about himself for a while. He said that since his two older brothers attend private universities, he wants to go to a national or public one. He feels the pressure of not wanting to cause trouble for his parents. But honestly, the anxiety of 'what if I fail' won't go away. The more he thought about it, the less he could concentrate on studying, and he couldn't sit still, so he came to consult me. What did I think?

I understood his anxiety and fear painfully well.

If it were the old me, in this situation, I think I would have opened all my drawers, included my own experiences, and spoken with deep emotion. Or I would have consulted other teachers and acquaintances, called his parents, and spent hours thinking about what was best for him.

But I suppressed those feelings, faced him directly, and said just one thing: 'I respect what you think, and what you think is everything. That is my only opinion.'

Literally, that was all I said, and the consultation time ended.

A few days later, he said he wanted to apply to private University B.
I respected that.

After that, there were not many memorable conversations until graduation.
I did not reach out to him, and he did not come to me for advice anymore.

And then graduation day arrived.
Y, who had been accepted into University B, came to greet me with tears in his eyes.

"I am grateful to you, teacher. You never gave me unnecessary lectures about my short temper, and you guided me. I was happy that you didn't interfere with anything. And what made me happiest was when we talked about my career path during summer vacation. I have a weak will, and I was very hesitant about changing my path. By September, I felt it was too cowardly to give up on my first-choice school, so I couldn't even tell my parents, and I was agonizing over it for a long time. I couldn't even sleep at night, struggling with the feeling that I was just running away. But when you pushed me forward that day, it gave me courage. Thank you so much!"

I laughed out loud, telling him not to cry so much, and celebrated his graduation.

He later found employment at his first-choice company,
and is now involved in the research and development of space rockets, which was his dream.

We still keep in touch with each other often.

He is the amazing one.

I was just by his side, supporting him in my heart.
Other than that, I just thought things like: he has a short temper, he has a sense of humor, he came for advice, he has his struggles, he wants to go to University B, good luck, he's amazing, thank you.
I was thinking those kinds of things.
Perhaps I was at least doing that much.
But I want to emphasize that I spent almost none of my own time on him.
Physically, I did nothing. Truly.

For those who wear themselves out physically and mentally with a self-sacrificing way of working,
an education of "doing nothing" might seem impossible.
The school as a whole, or society as a whole, might criticize it,
saying, "Doing nothing is not education."

But an education (or way of working) of "doing nothing" is possible.
There is value in "doing nothing."

This is because I used to be like Anpanman, sacrificing myself for the sake of others.
I was the type to tear off my own head, pouring my own abilities, time, and money
into my students.

In the next column, I will talk about the time I gave too much, received nothing in return, and burned out.
Thank you for reading until the end.