As a teacher and as a mother. Believing in children "even so."

"I see. Even so, I believe in you."

Believing that these words will save him.
I will continue to convey them.

To "believe" in students

shiiimo works as a teacher at a vocational school.
There are all kinds of students here, including those who enrolled right after graduating high school, and those who enrolled after university or working in society.

The goal as a vocational school teacher
is likely to connect them to suitable employment.

To fulfill that, we also do our best to support them through trial and error.

In the midst of that, they sometimes...

Tell lies.

It's about small things.

When they are a little late,
"The train was delayed," they say.

When they haven't finished an assignment,
"I wasn't feeling well," they say.

When they leave for an hour and come back to class,
"I suddenly got a call from my prospective employer," they say.

Of course, there are times when what they are saying is true.
But, I can't help but wonder "is it true?" and check delay information,
or pull in testimony from other students,
and often find that "it was a lie after all."

But. It can't be helped.
Perhaps this is what it means to become an adult.

In reality. There is no need to spend time desperately investigating whether it is a lie or not.
That is practically a waste.

Saying things like "You shouldn't tell lies"
to them, as they are already adults, is pointless.
They are saying it while knowing the risks.

Perhaps. I am being tested.

At times like that, I have one thing to say.

"I understand. I believe in you."

I look them in the eye and tell them that.

I believe in you.

I understood the power of these words only after I became a teacher.

Being believed in is, first of all, simply a happy feeling.

And the fact that "there is someone who believes in me"
leads to taking responsibility for one's own actions.

An awareness is born that one is a person who is being believed in.

"I see. I understand. I believe in you, okay?"

A few days after I sent those words.

A student who is a little late again.

"Oh, good morning. You're a bit late, aren't you?"

I say.

"I'm sorry. I didn't make it in time."

They sit down, whispering something quietly and honestly.
What a cute kid.
That is what I think.

What is born from "believing"

Recently, there is a student who has taken a liking to me.

He is a student in the class I became the homeroom teacher for when I returned in May.
Basically, the professor supervising a student's seminar also supports their job hunting, but in his case, his seminar professor had completely given up on him.

"That guy. He skips seminars and classes. He doesn't listen to what he's told and makes excuses about part-time jobs and whatnot. He has no motivation. So, I don't think I can introduce any job opportunities to him."

I understand the veteran seminar professor's point of view.
Certainly, from what I heard, he showed a defensive reaction once he was scolded, and it seems he stopped coming to the seminar entirely.
He simply wears a lot of piercings and rings and is fashionable, but perhaps that makes him look frivolous to some.

I called him in individually and talked to him.

"I'm seriously over it. They just get angry at me right away. It's impossible to talk to them. Honestly, job hunting is a pain, too. I mean, I can't do it, right? I seriously have nothing to say in an interview. I don't have any qualifications or anything."

As soon as we started talking, it all came pouring out.
Well, I suppose both sides have their complaints.

"No. It's okay. You can do it easily. You're working a part-time job at a convenience store, right? That's not something just anyone can do. I definitely couldn't do it. But you've been doing it for a year, haven't you? And you're coming to school, aren't you? You're showing up to class one way or another. Yes, that's enough! You can definitely get a job, so it's okay. I've supported many kids like you before. Believe in me."

I believe in you.
So I want you to believe in me, too.

You might be wondering what I'm talking about right off the bat.
But first, you have to believe.
Everything starts from there.

"Seriously? Are you serious? Oh man, I wonder if I can do it!"

This time, he let his voice roll, sounding genuinely happy.
He's a kid who's kind of like a cat.
Let's call him Cat-kun.

From then on, Cat-kun and I had many meetings.
We finished his resume together, and with that in hand, he kept moving forward to information sessions and interviews.
It hasn't even been a month since I first spoke with him.

The day after tomorrow, he is scheduled to head to his final interview.

"Hey! Teacher! I passed! Next is the final one!"

His bouncing voice resonated pleasantly with me as well.
He came to tell me, his words tangled with surprise and joy.

"See? I told you so. It's thanks to me, right!"

I smiled at him, half-jokingly (though I half-truly thought so too ←).

"No, seriously, that's true! Thank you so much!"

He is honest and has the power to absorb many things.
This was something Cat-kun originally possessed.
But perhaps, it was a power that would have been crushed if not for someone believing in him.

Thank you for reminding me of the power of belief once again.
Thank you, too.
Go and do your best.

To "believe" in children

To "believe" in students as a teacher.
That is something I could call my "sense," which I have felt after repeating it for many years.
Of course, this doesn't always work out.
There are some who feel resentment toward my guidance.
Well, that can't be helped.
Days of trial and error, and trying again.
But I will not stop believing. I will not give up.
Because I am convinced that this leads to trust with my students.

Naturally, this is a mindset I also cherish in raising my own children.

But when the other person is your own child,
well, why is it... that this is actually difficult.

It is easy if it is just words.
"It's okay. Mom believes in you."

I truly think so from the bottom of my heart.
I make it a point to say it out loud regularly,
and I hope that feeling reaches them.

But, to be honest,

there is a huge, huge anxiety lurking there.

Will my eldest daughter, who refuses to go to school, be able to go in the future?
Even if she can't go, will she be able to shine somewhere else?
How will my second daughter, who has ASD and ADHD, grow from here on?
Will my twin son end up needing to attend special needs education after all?
Might other disabilities or problems emerge in my other children depending on their future growth?

The anxiety is endless.
Because I am a parent.

Because I am a parent who cannot help but worry about my children.
Because we are a family that will live together forever.
I am just simply worried.
Always, always worried.
I am always, always thinking about it.

But.
I will still not give up on believing.

It will be okay.
Believing that is what draws our future toward us.

"It's okay. Mom believes in you."

I will tell you as many times as it takes.
It's not a lie.
It will absolutely be okay.
Because you have Mom and Dad.

Yes, while telling myself that too.
Sleeping in the gaps between the children, and tomorrow I will be a mother again.
And I will try being the teacher I am.

The future is bright, shiiimo.
I want to believe in myself, too.

Yes, I believe in you, too.
It will surely be okay!
Let's do our best together again starting tomorrow.

------

My students' stories are full of humor and insights.
They even told me that I was actually a wanted criminal.

Struggling and stumbling,
I am a mother who continues to work while being supported by others.