Novel 'The Teacher Before Becoming a Teacher' Episode 1: The Lie of 'I Understand'

1. First Day of Work

　The April evening was still a little bright.

　On the street in front of the station, several middle school students in brand-new uniforms were walking. Their bags slung over their shoulders and the shoes on their feet still looked somewhat stiff.

　Shingo Mitsuhashi stopped once in front of the Step-by-Step sign and looked at his reflection in the glass door of the entrance.

　Not many days had passed since his university entrance ceremony.

　The new school term for the children and Shingo's first job were about to begin in the same season.

　The stairs were narrower than he had imagined.

　Shingo Mitsuhashi stopped just once in the middle of the old stairs leading to the second floor. The soles of his leather shoes echoed softly against the concrete. An old real estate agency occupied the first floor, and beyond the glass door, several faded property listings were posted.

　When he climbed to the second-floor landing, there was a cloudy glass door.

　On it, in letters that looked like they had been cut out of colored construction paper, it read,

　Individual Tutoring Step-by-Step

　It was posted there.

　It wasn't something ordered from a sign shop. The height of the characters was slightly misaligned. The position of the dakuten marks was also strangely shifted upward.

　Seeing those handmade letters, Mitsuhashi felt a little relieved.

The job interview had been completed at a coffee shop near the university. So, this was the first time Mitsuhashi had entered the 'Individual Tutoring Step-by-Step' classroom.

He had imagined a more impressive cram school. A tidy reception desk, quiet booths, and instructors with straight postures. Thinking about walking into such a place had made his heart flutter repeatedly since last night.

　However, this cram school was a little different.

When he opened the glass door, he heard a voice immediately.

'That's why you find a common denominator here.'

'Huh, why?'

"Because the denominators are different."

At a long desk in the back, a boy who looked like a middle schooler was frowning. The instructor sitting across from him was tapping the edge of a notebook with a red pen.

The classroom was already in motion.

There were about ten long desks lined up, and at three of them, teachers and students were already seated. A girl who looked like an elementary schooler had a kanji workbook open, and the college-student-looking instructor next to her was grading it. At another desk, a middle schooler was taking an English vocabulary test.

At a desk by the window, a student sat alone. With their backpack at their feet, they were boredly rolling an eraser with their finger. At the desk on the opposite side, a young instructor was opening teaching materials alone, writing something with a red pen while waiting for a student.

Behind the reception counter, a man with round glasses was on the phone. He wore a white shirt and a tie, with a knit vest over it. Only his footwear, a pair of worn-out sneakers, seemed out of place.

It wasn't a private booth with partitions. Just two chairs at a long desk. That seemed to be how the one-on-one tutoring worked. The way the teacher and student sat—side-by-side or diagonally across from each other—varied slightly from desk to desk.

You could hear the voices from the neighboring lessons. You could hear the sound of red pens. You could hear someone saying, "I don't understand."

It was different from the quiet, closed room Mitsuhashi had imagined from the word "individual."

Behind the reception counter was the teachers' workspace. Stacks of handouts, red pens, eraser shavings, a half-finished can of coffee. It looked organized, yet somehow cluttered.

"Oh, Mitsuhashi-kun?"

From behind the counter, the man with round glasses looked up. He wore a white shirt and a tie, with a knit vest over it. Only his footwear, a pair of worn-out sneakers, seemed out of place.

"Yes. I'll be working here starting today. I'm Shingo Mitsuhashi."

"Sorry, wait a moment."

The man held the receiver between his shoulder and ear while raising one hand toward Mitsuhashi.

"Yes, so, Mother, I can certainly increase the amount of homework. However, they aren't yet at a stage where they will do it just because it's increased... Yes, yes, of course I understand how you feel."

It was the cram school director, Kazuhisa Nojima.

Mitsuhashi stood there, gripping the handle of his bag again.

Just by listening to the voice on the phone, he understood a little that a cram school was different from a school. Here, not only students come, but parents too. The parents' anxieties also come through over the phone.

"Are you the new guy?"

I was spoken to from the side.

When I turned around, a young man who looked like a college student was standing there holding a stack of copy paper. His eyes looked a little sleepy, but his voice was soft.

"Yes. I'm Mitsuhashi."

"Morita. Third year. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too."

Morita glanced at Mitsuhashi's tie and smiled.

"It feels like your first day."

Mitsuhashi instinctively reached for his collar.

"Is it strange?"

"No, it's earnest, which is fine. You know, elementary school kids watch you pretty closely when you're nervous."

"Is that so?"

"They watch. Much more than you'd think."

Those words sounded like both encouragement and a warning.

Nojima, having finished his phone call, finally came out from behind the counter.

"Sorry, sorry. Mitsuhashi-kun, today you have Sho Mizusawa, a fourth grader. Just look over some Japanese and math with him. Here are the materials. Since it's the first session, just get a feel for things for now."

"Yes."

"Sho is a good kid."

Nojima took off his round glasses at that point. He pulled slightly on the hem of his knit vest and wiped the lenses with the edge of it.

"However, 'a good kid' doesn't mean you can just relax because he's a good kid."

Nojima's eyes, now that he had put his glasses back on, looked a little narrower than before.

Mitsuhashi did not immediately grasp the meaning.

"Yes."

He replied only with that.

At that moment, the phone on the counter rang again.

"Sorry, Mitsuhashi-kun. We'll continue this later."

Saying that, Nojima returned behind the counter and picked up the receiver.

"Yes, Step by Step here."

Mitsuhashi sat at the designated long desk. On the surface of the desk, there were marks from eraser rubbings and faint pencil lines. The shadows of calculation formulas that someone had written and erased appeared depending on how the light hit them.

He opened the teaching materials.

It was a Japanese reading comprehension exercise.

An explanatory text. Demonstrative pronouns. Describing reasons. It was a bit difficult for a fourth grader.

Mitsuhashi took out his mechanical pencil and began solving the problems himself. He drew lines in the text and wrote the flow of the explanation in small letters next to the questions.

First, have them read the text.
Look before the demonstrative pronoun.
For questions asking for reasons, look for conjunctions.
For written answers, have them use words from the text.

As he structured the flow of the lesson in his head, he felt a little calmer.

He just needed to act like a teacher.

Be kind, be clear, and be close to the child.

Just as he was thinking that, the glass door at the entrance opened.

A boy wearing a school backpack stopped for a moment at the doorway. He looked around the classroom briefly and then turned his eyes toward the reception counter.

Nojima was still on the phone. With the receiver tucked between his shoulder and ear, he noticed the boy and pointed toward Mitsuhashi.

The boy nodded slightly, gripped the shoulder straps of his backpack again, and walked over to Mitsuhashi's desk.

"I'm Sho Mizusawa."

He was a boy with a straight back. His hair was neat. His voice was quiet, but clear.

"Hello. I'm Mitsuhashi, and I'll be working with you starting today."

"Nice to meet you."

Sho bowed politely and sat down next to Mitsuhashi.

Mitsuhashi thought to himself.

He seems like a good kid.

That was his first diagnostic error of the day.

2. The Teacher Before Becoming a Teacher

Mitsuhashi wanted to be a teacher.

Since elementary school, he hadn't disliked school. In junior high, he liked his social studies teacher. In history class, the teacher taught him the joy of thinking about "why things happened" rather than just memorizing dates.

In high school, he was blessed with a good homeroom teacher.

When he was unsure about his career path, that teacher said, "Your face lights up when you explain things to people." Those words stayed with Mitsuhashi.

He found that if he put in the effort, he could gradually improve at his studies.
His grades followed to a certain extent if he worked hard.
Teachers can brighten the lives of their students.

Mitsuhashi hadn't had much trouble believing that.

And so, he decided to treat Sho, who was sitting in front of him, in the same way.

"Well then, let's read this passage together first."

"Yes."

Sho immediately picked up his pencil. His posture was good. His eyes were serious as he read the text.

The first problem was a question about demonstratives.

'It says "that," but what is it referring to?'

Mitsuhashi placed his finger on the corresponding part of the text.

'For questions like this, you basically look ahead. You look for what is written before "that." Let's try reading this part.'

'Yes.'

Sho followed the text with his eyes.

'Around here?'

'Yeah, that's good. But I want you to find it a bit more precisely. What do you think "that" is talking about?'

Sho thought for a moment and pointed to a sentence in the text.

'Is it... here?'

'Yes, exactly. Good job.'

Mitsuhashi marked it with a red pen.

Sho's expression softened slightly.

When Mitsuhashi explained the next question as well, Sho nodded.

'I understand.'

His voice was sincere.

Mitsuhashi felt relieved.

He thought he was an easy student to work with.

If he explained, the boy would listen. He could answer. He didn't get distracted by small talk. A student like this would surely improve.

However, Mitsuhashi had not yet noticed.

That the time Sho spent looking at Mitsuhashi's red pen was slightly longer than the time he spent looking at the text.

In the silence where Sho appears to be thinking, he occasionally checks Mitsuhashi's expression.

And that only when a circle is marked, he feels a sense of relief somewhere in his chest.

'Then, let's try the next problem using the same way of thinking as before.'

Mitsuhashi pointed to a similar problem.

Sho's pencil stopped.

It was a problem in the same format as the one before.

Look before the demonstrative word.
Find the words that connect in meaning.
Paraphrase a little if necessary.

That should have been all there was to it.

However, Sho did not move.

'What's wrong?'

'...'

'It's fine to do it the same way as before. Let's look before the word "this".'

'Yes.'

Sho looked at the text.

However, his pencil did not move.

'You don't understand?'

When Mitsuhashi asked gently, Sho shook his head slightly.

'I understand.'

'I see. Then, shall we give it a try?'

'Yes.'

The pencil stopped again.

Mitsuhashi felt a little puzzled.

A moment ago, they had said they understood.
They had listened to the explanation.
They had nodded.

Yet, when they tried to do the same thing themselves, they couldn't move.

However, Mitsuhashi did not think deeply about the meaning of that yet.

They must be nervous because it's the first session.
I just need to help them a little.

That's what he thought.

Mitsuhashi did not yet know that a child's 'I understand' is not an expression of comprehension, but a defense mechanism.

3. The Mother Outside the Window

About twenty minutes into the lesson, the classroom door opened.

Mitsuhashi did not look up. He assumed it was the parent of a student coming to the desk next to him.

But then, he heard Nojima's voice.

Oh, hello. Since today is the first session, I was hoping we could talk a little after it finishes.

I'm sorry. Would it be alright if I observed the lesson for just a little while?

It was a polite voice.

Only then did Mitsuhashi look toward the entrance.

It was Sho's mother, Kaori Mizusawa.

She wore a navy blouse and a light-colored cardigan. Her posture was good, and her voice was reserved. She had a politeness that closely resembled Sho's.

Nojima looked hesitant for a brief moment.

Well... usually, we don't allow observations during class. It can sometimes make the children nervous.

Although his tone was gentle, Mitsuhashi could tell that Nojima was about seventy percent inclined to refuse.

Kaori gave a small bow.

I understand. However, I heard that there is a new teacher starting today, so I was hoping to observe for just a little while... Of course, I will make sure not to be a bother.

Nojima smiled, looking slightly troubled behind his glasses.

Then, just for a little while, really. It would be distracting if you stood behind Sho, so please stay in the corner of the classroom.

Thank you very much.

Nojima brought out a chair to the back corner of the classroom.

Kaori sat there. She placed her bag on her lap and straightened her back. She said nothing. She just watched quietly from there.

At first, Sho did not notice.

Mitsuhashi felt a little nervous.

He was being watched by a parent.

Right from the first session.

Would his explanation be okay? Was his voice too quiet? Did it look like he was connecting with the child?

Alright, Sho. Let's try thinking about this problem on your own.

Yes.

Sho was looking at the text.

His eyes suddenly drifted toward the back.

He made eye contact with his mother.

Kaori smiled.

She was not scolding him. She was not saying anything either.

　I just smiled.

　At that moment, Sho's pencil felt a little heavier.

　To Mitsuhashi, it still looked like he was "a little hesitant."

「It's okay. You can do it the same way as before.」

「Yes.」

　Sho replied quietly.

　Then, he pointed to a part of the text.

「Is this correct?」

　Mitsuhashi felt a slight snag.

　Until just a moment ago, it was,

「Is it... here?」

　That was it.

　Now, it had become,

「Is this correct?」

　That is what it had become.

　The meaning is similar. But something is different.

　The former was the voice of someone searching while looking at the text.
　The latter was the voice of someone seeking permission from someone else.

　Mitsuhashi sensed that difference.

　However, before he could put that sense of unease into words, he moved the lesson forward.

「Yeah, you're on the right track. But, just this part isn't quite enough, I think.」

The red pen moved.

Sho's eyes followed the red pen.

Behind him, Kaori took a small breath.

4. The Lie of 'I Understand'

'Well then, why don't you try explaining how you solved it up to this point in your own words?'

Mitsuhashi said.

He had heard about this in his education department classes.

Having someone explain what they have understood in their own words deepens their retention.

It was supposed to be a good method.

Sho opened his mouth.

'Um... look at the front...'

'Yes.'

'And then... the part that is correct...'

Sho stopped.

'The part that is correct?'

When Mitsuhashi asked him to repeat it, Sho's shoulders stiffened slightly.

'Ah, um, the part I'm pointing at...'

'Yes. How do you find it?'

'...'

Sho looked at the text.

Next, I looked at Mitsuhashi's face.

And, with a face that tried not to look behind, he was conscious of what was behind him.

"I understand."

Sho said quietly.

Mitsuhashi was troubled.

What was that "I understand" a response to?

Did it mean he understood the explanation?
Did it mean he wanted me to stop asking?
Did it mean he didn't want to make a mistake?

"Then, let's try just one more problem."

Mitsuhashi gave a similar problem.

Sho's pencil stopped again.

It looked like it was stuck in front of the text.

But, in reality, it was different.

It wasn't that Sho was afraid of the problem.

He was afraid of the atmosphere after making a mistake.

His mother wouldn't get angry. She wouldn't raise her voice. In fact, she was always kind.

However, whenever Sho made a mistake, his mother would always add a little explanation.

"You can actually do it."
"You can do it if you calm down."
"You can understand if you think about it properly."

Those were words to encourage Sho.

At least, to his mother.

But to Sho, those words sometimes sounded like this.

The person I am now is not the real me.
I must not show the side of me that cannot do things.
They think I am not thinking things through properly.

That is why Sho said, "I understand," before saying, "I don't understand."

That was not a lie.

He was not trying to tell a lie.

He was simply offering the words that would put adults at ease first.

"It's okay. It's fine to make mistakes."

Mitsuhashi said.

He said it gently.

Sho nodded.

"Yes."

However, his pencil did not move.

It's fine to make mistakes.

If he could make mistakes just because of those words, he wouldn't have been struggling in the first place.

5. Mr. Oyama

"I see."

A low voice was heard from behind.

When Mitsuhashi turned around, a man he did not recognize was standing there.

He was wearing a high-end looking three-piece suit. However, his shirt was not ironed. He was clean-shaven, but his hair was slightly disheveled. He would probably look handsome if he groomed himself, but it seemed as though he had no intention of doing so.

The man looked around the classroom once.

It looked as if he were observing the students' faces, but he was not just looking at their faces.

How to hold a pencil.
The margins of a notebook.
How an eraser wears down.
Eyes waiting for a red pen.
Shoulders that relax the moment the teacher begins to explain.

Mitsuhashi couldn't quite tell where the man's gaze was directed.

It didn't look like he was just watching; it looked like he was investigating.

The man stopped beside Mitsuhashi and Sho's desks.

"This kid isn't looking at the problem."

Mitsuhashi was speechless for a moment.

"Huh?"

The man wasn't blaming Sho, nor was he blaming Mitsuhashi; he was simply looking at the desk.

"He's pretending to look at the problem. But that's not what he's really looking at."

Sho froze.

Mitsuhashi froze too.

The man said nothing more and moved to the next desk.

There, a boy around the sixth grade sat with a sullen look on his face in front of a math problem.

"Blank again, huh?"

The man said, looking at the boy's answer sheet.

"Yeah, yeah, it was difficult, wasn't it? 'Difficult' is such a convenient word."

Mitsuhashi frowned.

His tone was harsh.

It sounded like he was mocking the child.

Yet, for some reason, the boy smiled a little.

"No, seriously, this is difficult."

"How many minutes did you seriously spend thinking about this 'seriously difficult' problem?"

"...Three minutes."

"Are you such a genius that you can call it difficult after only three minutes?"

"Annoying."

"Annoying is fine. Now, think for another seven minutes. You can complain after you've happily left it blank for ten minutes."

The boy clicked his tongue.

However, he picked up his pencil.

His expression changed.

Mitsuhashi was confused.

Is that good instruction?

I would never say that. It might hurt the student. It might become a problem if the parents heard it.

And yet, that student is starting to move.

When the man noticed Mitsuhashi's gaze, he smiled with just the corner of his mouth.

"Newbie?"

"...Yes."

"I see."

Saying only that, the man looked back at Sho's desk.

"He's looking at the teacher's face. Or more specifically, he's looking at the mother behind the teacher."

Kaori's expression shifted slightly.

Nojima approached.

'Oyama, a moment.'

Oyama.

Mitsuhashi had heard that name before.

Oyako-sensei.

Nojima had mentioned during the interview that he was like an external consultant for the cram school. A teacher who only comes when needed. A teacher who looks after not just the children, but the parents as well.

However, he was completely different from the 'teacher who stands by parents and children' that Mitsuhashi had imagined.

Oyama tapped the teaching materials on the desk lightly with his finger.

'You're Mitsuhashi, right?'

'Yes.'

'Your explanation is too long.'

Mitsuhashi's face grew hot.

'I'm sorry.'

'If you have time to apologize, look at that child.'

Oyama said indifferently.

'You should think of the time the teacher spends explaining as time the student spends slacking off.'

Mitsuhashi reflexively almost argued back.

If I don't explain, they won't understand, will they?

However, Sho's white notebook caught his eye.

He had explained. He had said, 'I understand.'

But they haven't solved the similar problem.

Oyama continued.

"It's usually the teacher who feels good from giving an easy-to-understand explanation."

Those words pierced Mitsuhashi's chest.

"It's not that the child is at fault."

Oyama said, without looking at Sho.

"The diagnosis that they are a child who will improve just by listening to an explanation is off. Because the diagnosis is off, the prescription is also off."

"A diagnosis... you say?"

"Yes. Words like 'they have no motivation,' 'they aren't thinking,' or 'they are sloppy' are not the cause. They are words that abandon the diagnosis."

Mitsuhashi couldn't say anything.

Oyama looked at Sho's notebook.

"That child isn't failing to think. Before thinking, they are looking for the answer that will put the adult at ease."

Sho's fingers holding the pencil moved just a little bit.

6. Three-way Interview

It was decided to stop the class for a moment.

Nojima left Sho in Morita's care and guided Mitsuhashi and Kaori to a small interview room. Oyama also entered as if it were natural.

Only the interview room was a private room.

White walls, a round table, and four chairs. Papers showing successful admission results were posted on the wall.

Kaori sat in a chair looking a little nervous.

Nojima also sat down opposite her.

I'm sorry for taking your time so suddenly.

Nojima said that first, looking uncomfortable.

It's not that there was a sudden problem today. It's just that after watching the first class, there was something that concerned me a little.

Kaori gave a small nod.

Is it because I was watching?

That might be part of it.

Nojima replied.

But I feel like it's not just that.

Then Nojima looked toward Oyama.

Oyama, what do you think?

Oyama looked at Sho's answer sheet for a while.

It seemed as if he wasn't looking at whether the answers were correct or incorrect, but at the shape of the blanks. Where he stopped, where he erased, and where he rewrote. It looked as if he were reading those traces.

Oyama finally looked up.

Mother, you can't bear to see Sho-kun make mistakes, can you?

Kaori's eyes widened.

No, that's not...

Oyama remained silent.

It's just that he is a child who can actually do it.

I see.

Oyama leaned back slightly.

'That "actually" is what's holding him back.'

Kaori's face stiffened.

Mitsuhashi gasped.

He thought that was going too far.

The mother didn't mean any harm. She was just believing in her child. She was just encouraging him.

However, Oyama continued.

'"You can actually do it." "You can do it if you calm down." "You can do it if you think about it properly." None of these are bad words. But every time he hears them, he becomes unable to show his "self that can't do it right now."'

Kaori tried to say something, then closed her mouth.

'We have no choice but to start from where he can't do it. Yet, you, as his mother, are protecting the "child who can actually do it" first. When that happens, Sho-kun can't fail. He can't say he doesn't understand. So, he says he understands.'

'But...'

Kaori's voice trembled.

'I'm just believing in him.'

'I know.'

Oyama's voice was unexpectedly quiet.

'That's why it's troublesome. If it were malice, it would be easy to stop. Because it's love, the child cannot resist it.'

Silence fell over the meeting room.

Mitsuhashi looked at Kaori.

She looked like she was about to cry.

Oyama's words were too harsh, he thought. However, in Kaori's eyes, there was more of a pain of realization than anger.

Oyama then looked at Mitsuhashi.

'And you're the same.'

'Me?'

'Yes. While you said that child was looking for the right answer, you were also looking for the "right answer for being a good teacher."'

Mitsuhashi was at a loss for words.

'Speak kindly. Explain things clearly. Tell them it's okay to make mistakes. If you do that, you'll look like a teacher.'

'I didn't mean to...'

'I'm sure you didn't.'

Oyama said immediately.

'But I'm not talking about your intentions. I'm talking about what happened to the child.'

Mitsuhashi fell silent.

'You're someone who was saved by studying, aren't you?'

At those words, Mitsuhashi looked up.

'If you study, you'll be rewarded. If you meet a good teacher, you can change. Effort never betrays you. You have the face of someone who has lived believing in that kind of world.'

Mitsuhashi couldn't say anything.

'That's not a bad thing. But, you see, if you stay like that, you won't be able to see the faces of children who have been hurt by studying.'

The air in the interview room grew a little heavy.

Nojima said quietly from the side.

'Oyama, watch your tone.'

'I'm already sugarcoating it.'

'That's what's scary about it.'

Nojima sighed and turned to face Kaori.

"Mother, you don't need to change everything today. I just want to create a little time for Sho to be able to say 'I don't understand.'"

Kaori nodded slightly.

"Should I not watch?"

Oyama shook his head.

"You can watch. However, please change how you watch. Don't look at whether he got the answer right, but look at where Sho is looking."

"Where..."

"At the teacher's face? At your face? Or at the problem?"

Kaori slowly took in those words.

Oyama continued.

"Observation is ninety percent of it. Whether you get angry or encourage him can come after that. As long as the diagnosis is wrong, anything you say will be a misprescription."

Mitsuhashi looked at Oyama's profile.

This person was not encouraging them. He was not comforting them either. He was not just scolding them, either.

It was as if he were viewing the parent and child before him as a single phenomenon.

He felt it was cold.

But at the same time, deep within that coldness, there was a strange accuracy.

7. Resuming Class

When they returned to class, Sho was doing short calculation problems with Morita.

Morita raised his hand slightly.

"Welcome back. Sho is actually quite fast at calculations."

Sho looked at Mitsuhashi's face.

He also looked at his mother's face.

Kaori did not sit behind him this time. Guided by Nojima, she sat in a chair on the reception side. It was a place where she could see the entire classroom, but not directly behind Sho.

Mitsuhashi sat in his seat.

What was I trying to do just a moment ago?

To look like a good teacher.
To give an easy-to-understand explanation.
To make Sho feel at ease.

Those are not bad things.

However, that alone did not make Sho's pencil move.

Mitsuhashi looked at the teaching materials.

"Sho-kun."

"Yes."

"Let's do that problem again."

Sho's shoulders stiffened slightly.

Mitsuhashi almost said "It's okay" immediately.

He didn't say it.

"Let's look at the text together."

Sho looked a little surprised.

"It's asking what this 'this' refers to, right?"

"Yes."

"Then, you don't need to look at my face."

Sho looked at Mitsuhashi.

Mitsuhashi pointed to the text.

'Look here.'

Sho's eyes returned to the text.

'First, what is written before 'this'?'

Sho remained silent.

Mitsuhashi waited.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

At the desk next to them, there was the sound of a red pen scratching across paper.

Another student said, 'I don't know.'

Sho's pencil did not move.

Inside Mitsuhashi, a desire to explain welled up.

Look here. This sentence is the answer. It's the same as before.

The words were on the tip of his tongue.

However, Mitsuhashi remained silent.

Sho's eyes were not looking away.

They were going back and forth over the same part of the text repeatedly.

He was not stuck.

He was searching.

Mitsuhashi felt as if he had seen that difference for the first time.

...Here.

Sho said quietly.

The tip of his pencil pointed to a sentence in the text.

Mitsuhashi did not move his red pen.

Why did you think it was there?

Sho fell silent again.

Then, he tilted his head slightly.

Because the same thing is written before.

The same thing?

Yeah. Even though the wording is different.

Mitsuhashi felt a slight warmth deep in his chest.

He wanted to mark it with a circle.

He wanted to praise him right away.

But he felt that now was not the time for that.

Then, let's try connecting those 'different ways of saying the same thing' with a line.

Sho drew a line in the text.

The line was a little crooked.

But it was a line that Sho had drawn himself.

Behind them, Kaori leaned forward.

Nojima made a small gesture with his hand to stop him.

Kaori closed her mouth.

Mitsuhashi said to Sho.

'Before you write the answer, tell me what you just looked for.'

Sho looked at the text and said.

'I looked for the part before "this" that has the same meaning.'

'Yes.'

'And then... since it's long as it is, I'll shorten it a little.'

'Yes.'

'...Is this okay?'

Sho started to say, then stopped.

Mitsuhashi waited.

Sho rephrased it.

'I will write this.'

The pencil moved.

He still didn't know if it was the correct answer.

But in that moment, Mitsuhashi felt as if Sho had looked at the problem for the first time.

8 After Class

When the class ended, Sho bowed politely as he always did.

'Thank you very much.'

"Likewise."

　Mitsuhashi replied.

　Sho walked toward his mother.

　Kaori looked like she wanted to say something.

　However, she didn't say it right away.

　She simply looked at Sho's notebook and said softly,

"You did your best."

　Sho nodded just a little.

　Mitsuhashi thought that those words were the best change Kaori could manage today.

　Before he knew it, Oyama was getting ready to leave.

　He didn't even have his bag; he was practically empty-handed. Just as when he arrived, he headed toward the exit, still failing to blend into the atmosphere of the classroom.

　Mitsuhashi called out to him without thinking.

"Um."

　Oyama turned around.

"Thank you very much."

　After saying that, Mitsuhashi felt a sense of discomfort himself.

　Was he truly grateful?

　Or did he just think that was the right thing to say?

　Oyama looked at Mitsuhashi's face and said,

"That sounds like the right answer, too."

"Huh?"

"Oh, well."

Oyama said without smiling.

"Looking after children isn't about putting on a kind face for them. It's about seeing the things you don't want to see."

"The things I don't want to see..."

"The things you want to dismiss as 'lack of motivation.' The things you want to brush off as 'careless mistakes.' The things you want to blame on personality. That's usually where the root cause remains."

Mitsuhashi couldn't reply.

"Grit-based theories are just words from someone who has given up on diagnosing the problem."

With that, Oyama left the classroom.

Mitsuhashi stared at the glass door for a while.

He thought he was an unpleasant person.

His way of speaking was harsh.
He leaves people with no place to hide.
With that attitude, he must hurt people.

Does he really care about the children?

As he was thinking that, Nojima came up beside him.

He took off his round glasses and was wiping them with the hem of his knit vest.

"Tired?"

"Yes."

Mitsuhashi answered honestly.

"Is Mr. Oyama always like that?"

"Well, his way of speaking is harsh, isn't it?"

Nojima gave a bitter smile.

'I sometimes wish you would stop, too.'

'But you don't stop, do you?'

'I stop when it's time to stop.'

Nojima adjusted his glasses.

'But, Sho-kun, you looked at the problem one last time at the end, didn't you?'

Mitsuhashi remained silent.

That scene was clearly recalled.

The moment Sho's eyes fell not on Mitsuhashi's face, but on the text.

It wasn't a red pen.
It wasn't his mother.
It wasn't the presence of a correct answer.

He was simply looking at the text.

'I think that was something you discovered, Mitsuhashi-kun.'

'I didn't do anything.'

'It's not that you didn't do anything. You reduced the explanation and let him see it, didn't you?'

Nojima said quietly.

'At first, I think that's fine.'

Mitsuhashi looked once more at the glass door through which Oyama had left.

He still thought he was an unpleasant person.

His way of speaking is harsh.
He leaves people no place to escape.
With that attitude, there must be people who get hurt.

However, he could not deny the moment Sho's pencil moved, no matter what.

I was not seeing what Oyama was seeing.

That much, at least, I understood.

Nine: Not the Correct Answer

On the way home, Mitsuhashi walked toward the station.

The evening shopping street was filled with the sound of bicycle bells and the smell of fried food from the deli. A group of high school students passed by, laughing.

Mitsuhashi felt the weight of the teaching materials in his bag.

Had he actually taught a lesson today?

He had given explanations.
He had marked answers as correct.
He had spoken kindly.
He had said it was okay to make mistakes.

However, he had not initially seen what Sho was looking at.

Sho's pencil had not stopped in front of the problem.

It had stopped in front of an adult's gaze.

And Mitsuhashi himself, while appearing to look at Sho, had been looking at the 'good teacher' within himself.

A teacher who explains things clearly.
A teacher who is kind and supportive.
A teacher who makes students feel at ease.

He had been searching for that correct answer.

Mitsuhashi stopped at the traffic light in front of the station.

While waiting for the light to turn green, he suddenly remembered Sho's final words.

'I will write this.'

It was a small phrase.

He still did not know if it was the correct answer.

But it was not a phrase seeking permission from anyone.

That day, Mitsuhashi learned that sitting next to a child is different from looking at a child.

For the first time, the teacher before becoming a teacher began to look at the child, rather than the problem.