I talked to my teacher for the first time in 10 years about the egg class

I contacted the teacher for the first time in 10 years since graduation.
I sent a message half-resigned, thinking she probably wouldn't remember me among the many students she had, but the reply came immediately.

'Long time no see, of course I remember you.'

I was so happy that I let out a sound. Since the situation was what it was, it seemed like it would take an incredible amount of time and length to explain in writing, so when I asked if we could talk on the phone, the teacher called me right away.
I gripped my smartphone with trembling hands.

'How are you? What's going on?'

10 years have passed and I have become a full-fledged adult, but as soon as I heard the teacher's voice, I returned to the girl I was in high school.
I gathered the scattered words in my head and told her everything that had happened to me in the past week.
That I started writing essays, that I wrote about her class, and that it was a fun class that I still can't forget. That I was happy that so many people read it and praised the class.
And that I felt sorry that my inadequate expression had caused prejudice against her.


At first, I was talkative with the joy of talking to the teacher after so long, but gradually my throat tightened and it became painful, and eventually, I couldn't stop crying. I was surprised myself as to why I was crying. The teacher silently picked up and listened to my messy story as I spoke with a choked voice.

When I finally finished talking after a long time, the teacher slowly opened her mouth.

'You know, I had always wanted to do that class, but I never had the opportunity. I thought that the kids in this class, where Emuko-san was, could do it, so I tried it. Before or since, that was the only time I ever taught that class.'


I was surprised. I had assumed that she had taught the same class to other classes and even before that.
The teacher continued.

'Emuko-san's class was mostly girls, wasn't it? Some kids married someone of the opposite sex, but most married someone of the same sex. You might not remember, but there were also kids who chose to be single back then.'

'No matter what form they chose, there were various impressions about raising the egg. If it hadn't been an egg but a real child that they dropped, they might have caused an injury that would leave a disability for life. If it hadn't been an egg but a real child, it might have been even harder if it cried or fussed. Seeing everyone's impressions, I thought I was glad I did it.'


Hearing the teacher's words, I felt relieved that the teacher and I felt the same way.

No matter what form you choose, the difficulty of protecting and nurturing life does not change. I think there was something in that class that you can only notice because you experienced it.

That 'something' will surely be different depending on the student who receives it. But now that I know she taught the class because she believed we would understand, I was happy about the trust the teacher placed in us back then. My classmates were all unique and interesting, but they were all kids who could value both their own feelings and the feelings of others.
Back then and even now, the teacher did not force or deny the feelings we felt, but entrusted them to us and watched over us.

I think the reason I still remember the teacher's class is because she taught a class that allowed us to take it in however we liked.

And I was a happy child who knew the joy of the trust placed in me by an adult.

The teacher apparently wrote a paper on this class and presented it, and won an award. I am as happy about that as if it were my own.

Thank you, teacher.
I am glad I was able to take your class.

[Postscript 1]

Thank you for watching until the end.
I have included the teacher's paper, which contains our impressions after finishing the class at that time. (I'm sorry it's hard to read because I took the photos casually)

[Postscript 2]