No matter how much experience I gain, my stomach still aches on the morning I head to the sea.

At this time of year,
the opportunities to teach snorkeling increase every year.

An experiential class for elementary school students.

Practical training for high school students conducting research on coral reefs.

Snorkeling tours for adult education courses.

The age and experience of the participants vary.

I work in a job that communicates about coral reefs.

As a researcher.

And as a skin diving instructor.

However, my job is not just to show people coral reefs.

It is to ensure everyone returns home safely.

I want to convey the charm of coral reefs.

But there is a responsibility in conveying that.

As long as I am guiding people to the sea,
I have the responsibility to ensure everyone who participates returns home safely.

To fulfill that responsibility,
I obtained the national qualification of diver,
and as an instructor, I have repeatedly learned water rescue and
life-saving procedures.

Securing an unconscious person at the water's surface.

While performing artificial respiration on the sea surface,
towing them to a safe place.

Pulling them onto land and performing life-saving procedures.

Until I was able to do it,
I repeated it over and over again.

If possible, it is a skill I would never want to use in my life.

Even so, it is a skill that must absolutely be mastered.

To be honest,
on mornings when I work as an instructor,
I always get a slight stomachache.

The wind direction for the day.

The height of the waves.

The tidal current.

The experience level of the participants.

I repeat the simulation in my head over and over again.

"Today, let's go to this beach."

"Today, let's stop here."

"Today, we will not enter the sea."

Making that decision is also part of an instructor's job.

No matter how much experience you gain, the fear of standing before nature never disappears.

This is because the sea does not accommodate human plans.

Why go that far?

The sea is impartial.

The sea does not go easy on you just because you are a child.

And it does not overlook you just because you are an adult.

Even if you are a good swimmer, nature does not care.

Once, right in front of me,
a person swimming in water where they couldn't touch the bottom
suddenly dislocated their shoulder.

With intense pain, one arm became immobile,
and the person who had been laughing and swimming just moments before
could no longer keep themselves afloat on their own the next instant.

During the few seconds it took for me to head over to help,
what kept that person's life tethered to the surface
was not their own swimming ability,
nor was it my rescue technique.

It was the buoyancy of their life jacket.

I towed the person,
brought them to the beach, and carried them up by myself.

After getting onto the beach,
while we were both catching our breath with pale faces,
I noticed my hands were trembling slightly.

After I finished bringing him to the beach,
he regained some composure
despite the pain. Then, he reset his shoulder himself as if he were used to it,
and it did not result in a serious incident.

What if he hadn't been wearing a life jacket?

What if I had looked away
for just a few dozen seconds?

If those few seconds hadn't existed,
I might not have made it in time.

That fear
is still burned into my chest.

A life jacket
is not a tool for people who cannot swim.

No matter how well you can swim,
there are times when you can become unable to swim in an instant.

A life jacket
is a tool that creates the "few seconds" until help arrives.

I continue to read reports of sea accidents from all over the country.

At night, when I open my computer,
another accident report has arrived.

If I could, I would rather not read it.

It is filled with content that makes my heart ache.

Even so, I read through it.

To ensure that the same accident is never repeated.

There, the same sentence is written over and over again.

“Life jacket not worn.”

I have lost count of how many times I have read that sentence.
I have lost count of how many times I have read that sentence.

Each time,
I remember my own hands trembling on the beach.

“My child takes swimming lessons, so it’s fine.”

“I can swim, so it’s fine.”

“It’s shallow water, so it’s fine.”

The sea does not accommodate those “it’s fine” assumptions.

Nature does not accept human preconceptions.

So, I have a request.

If you are going to the sea this summer,
please wear a life jacket.

And not just for children.

For adults, too.

Even for those who can swim.

Even for those who are confident in their swimming.

The sea is an irreplaceable place that gives us wonder and discovery.

To ensure those memories end with,
"That was fun."

Please, wear a life jacket.

Those few seconds can make the difference between life and death.

🪸 Ishiya Juku Rintaro
As a researcher and educator, I engage in activities that "connect learning to society."
▶︎ Click here for my self-introduction page

About parenting.
About school.
About career paths.
And about those worries you can't tell anyone else.

It's okay if you don't have it all figured out.
First, let me listen to your story.

Click here for the official LINE👇

👉️https://lin.ee/T11o4l7