Pathway to Japanese Literature

Recalling it now feels like peering into another era.
At that time graduates from our school could be hired as assistant teachers at middle schools for twenty-five yen.
University graduates commanded fifty or sixty yen - those of average standing became vice principals while those with good grades could become principals right away.
Universities still existed only as Tokyo's Imperial University making bachelor's degrees valuable.
They were probably more esteemed than today's doctorates.
When my cousin first graduated from university in my hometown townspeople volunteers put up flags and went out to meet him at the station three ri away.
Nor was that all.
A congratulatory gathering was held at the initiative of the town’s school board members.
I recall it being called something like "The Congratulatory Gathering for Bachelor of Letters Kenichiro Tanaka."
Learning was considered that arduous back then.
Perhaps due to having studied enough to merit the town's commendation Kenichiro soon succumbed to tuberculosis.

But enough digressions—this happened about a quarter century ago.

It may sound petty, but at that time we applied ourselves diligently to our studies with twenty-five yen as our target monthly salary.
When we thought we'd soon be earning twenty-five yen, that became our anchor of security.
Some may laugh and call our ideals low, but since we generally managed on nine yen a month, twenty-five yen would amount to three times that.
Today's students require at least fifty yen in monthly educational expenses.
However, upon graduating, can they earn three times that amount—150 yen?
For a youth of around twenty years old, twenty-five yen per month was by no means a meager salary at the time.
Police officers supported their wives and children on about twelve yen.

When I reflect on it, youth should be a time to indulge in wild fantasies and harbor grand ambitions.
We became enlightened too soon.
While law students in Kanda dreamed of becoming future prime ministers, we could envision nothing beyond twenty-five-yen middle school teachers.

"Do not worry about what you will eat or what you will drink."

"For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?"

These strangely passive lessons soaked into our heads.

This was because our school was a Christian institution operated by American missionaries, and its educational policy proved ill-suited for worldly success. Whether deeming religion incompatible or not, they attached no importance to science. Even social sciences became makeshift subjects when taught by missionaries. Economics delivered by religious instructors carried no scholarly weight. Though Bible lectures remained their specialty, such knowledge offered no sustenance in practical life. Naturally compelled to build careers through their sole strength in English, graduates had no alternative but to become teachers.

Around that time, our school had gradually come to gain recognition.
Up until then, there had been only three or four graduates each year—sometimes none at all—but the year before ours had eight, and our class numbered thirteen.
Principal Dr. Jones declared:

"The school's development is indeed cause for rejoicing, but God simultaneously grants us a profoundly meaningful divine warning."
"When I considered that this year saw more upperclassmen in the advanced course than any since our school's founding, we have reached that ill-omened number—thirteen."
"All rapid progress carries inherent peril."
"We must engage in earnest self-reflection."

he said anxiously.
This also made clear just how passive our school was.
The middle school division had an appropriate number of students, but in the higher division, each grade had fewer students than teachers.
That had now suddenly reached normal societal levels, so the principal began to worry.

"If the school develops toward God’s Kingdom, that would be truly splendid."
"However, if it progresses toward worldly prosperity, that should be a cause for grave concern."
"I find it strange that the upperclassmen have reached the unprecedented number of thirteen."

“Dr.Jones, why is the number thirteen considered bad?”

At that moment, one of them asked.
Though he knew [the answer], he asked to practice conversation.

“Thirteen is fatal.”

“Does that mean a Judas will emerge from among us?”

Another asked.

“Well, deeming thirteen unlucky dates back long before Christ and isn’t limited to Christian countries.”
“Turks have nearly eradicated the character for thirteen from their dictionaries.”
“In Scandinavian mythology, thirteen deities sat together at a banquet table, and among them, one called Baldr was killed.”
“Gentlemen, have you read Carlyle’s On Heroes, Hero-Worship, and the Heroic in History?”

“Yes, I read it last year.”

“Carlyle discusses Odin as a god-man.”
“Baldr is Odin’s son.”
“He would later be resurrected, but because the demon Loki intruded and made thirteen at the table, they suffered calamity.”
“You gentlemen are well aware that Christ’s Last Supper had thirteen participants.”
“Thirteen as a number is simply unacceptable.”
“In Paris, they have long omitted thirteen from street addresses and room numbers.”
“In America too there are places that do the same.”
“Gentlemen, your classrooms and dormitory rooms being labeled as A Room, B Room, C Room is none other than our painstaking effort to avoid inauspicious numbers.”
“Thirteen is indeed a fatal number.”
“Therefore, for the sake of your futures and the school’s prospects, I do not wish to have thirteen graduates.”

“Well, well, you’re saying something strange there.”

The whole group exclaimed in surprise,

"But... but Dr. Jones, if there are thirteen people, won't thirteen graduate no matter what?"

they formally posed the question.

“No—we will retain one student in their current grade.”

“Are you going to openly fail those with passing scores?”

“No—the one in the Bottom Seat shall make the sacrifice.”
"I must act according to what I believe to be God’s divine will."
“Is this not preferable to graduating thirteen and having one die?”

Dr. Jones spoke with absolute earnestness.

“No, no, no…”

Terajima of the Bottom Seat fired off about ten denials, but could muster nothing further.
This man consistently ranked last every semester, so his conversation was particularly awkward.
Everyone burst out laughing.

Principal Jones was a kind teacher, but in matters of faith, he was an unyielding zealot.
He permitted no physical exercise whatsoever on Sundays.
Since it was the Lord’s Day, he taught that one should limit physical activity to at most a stroll and devote oneself to spiritual matters.
Naturally, this meant the mysterious injunction to attend church and read the Bible.
When we wrestled in a corner of the schoolyard, Dr.Jones would immediately come out and reprimand us.
Because he resided on campus, his supervision was thorough.
Mrs.Jones was also strict.
The mischievous middle school students were often scolded for playing ball on Sundays.
If they still didn’t obey, she would catch them and drag them to the dorm supervisor.
Because she was a large woman, the children were no match for her.

“There! Devil Granny’s coming!”

With that, they scattered like spiderlings fleeing in all directions.

One day during class, Dr. Jones,

“Gentlemen, what does ‘Devil Granny’ mean in Japan?”

he asked.

“Devil Granny?”

we tilted our heads in puzzlement.
The first stool that a baby excretes after birth is called kanibaba.
However, such intricate matters couldn’t be explained in English.
In such situations, we would,

“We don’t know.”

we answered.
When they knew something but couldn't explain it properly, they found it less troublesome to persistently claim ignorance.

“Does the sun rise in the east or the west?”

Even if asked such a question, first-year students would of course

“I don’t know.”

they answered.
Because of this, Westerners tended to become firmly convinced that Japanese people were quite ignorant.

Now, as for Dr. Jones,

“However, the small middle school students call Mrs. Jones ‘Devil Granny.’”

With that, he gave us a clue.

“Ah, that’s ‘Devil Granny’.”

“Onibaba? What does that mean?”
“It means ‘a dignified lady.’”
And we fobbed it off like that.

The seniors with twenty-five yen starting salaries never failed to visit their alma mater whenever they made their rare trips to the capital. Since our graduation was imminent, hoping to benefit from their experiences, we tried various tactics. Each of us refined our approaches according to our strengths.

"I gave my inaugural speech in English, I tell you! Those country folk were shocked out of their wits."

said Kawasaki.

“Did you practice beforehand?”

“That’s right.
I did exactly as Mr. Harris had corrected for me, so it worked.
However, when I entered the classroom, I immediately got a chill.”

“Why?”

“The morning classes with first and second graders went smoothly, but right before lunch came the fifth graders.”

“Do you actually teach fifth graders?”

“The initial assignment was supposed to be up to third graders, but with the staff shortage, they had me handle two hours.
While I was talking, the noon cannon went off.
I should have just stopped the class right then, but I joked, ‘The noon cannon in the countryside is loud, isn’t it?’
‘Teacher, how do you say “noon cannon” in English?’ a student asked.
I was a bit flustered, I tell you.”

“How do you say it?” “Noon cannon?”

“I didn’t know,”
“But I was the teacher there.”
“Don’t you know the noon cannon you hear every day?”
“It’s the noon cannon.”
“It’s the noon cannon.”
“It’s ‘noon gun,’” I translated literally for him.
“You can do it!” someone chimed in.
“You’re testing me by asking something you already know, aren’t you?”
“When I went back to the staff room and checked the dictionary, sure enough, it was ‘noon gun.’”
“I felt relieved.”

“Well done.”

“I can’t handle questions outside the textbook. Since you never know what might come up, these days I make sure to warn them beforehand not to waste time asking about things outside the textbook.”

“That’s sneaky of you.”

And we were impressed while simultaneously learning the trick.

“I can handle it. Indeed.”

Though Kikuchi had always been a handsome man, he now stopped by as an imposing gentleman in a frock coat with a Kaiser mustache. In those days, an imposing appearance was all the rage. This teacher was no longer a novice. Having graduated two years prior and obtained certification last year, he had suddenly been promoted to thirty-five yen.

“You’re special, aren’t you? It’s because your grades are so good.”

And we lost no time in stoking the fire.

“It’s not exactly that, but my predecessor was dreadful,” Kikuchi continued. “I was shocked when I heard the story from the vice principal. Apparently, he translated ‘This pencilis for my brother’ as ‘This pencil is facing toward my brother.’”

“What a brilliant English scholar!” someone interjected.

“That’s why he only taught first and second graders. While he was mid-translation about the pencil facing the brother, the vice principal brought an inspector to observe his class—utterly mortifying. He really struggled with it, you see. Though the vice principal holds a Bachelor of Science degree, he knows enough English to catch such errors. He promptly told him afterward, ‘I’m terribly sorry, but you must resign.’ It seems that pathetic man actually begged through tears, ‘Even if you cut my salary, please let me stay!’”

“And then what happened?”

“But for the students' sake, they couldn't afford to dwell on such matters.”
“He was fired.”
“After that, I took over.”

“Are there many English teachers?”

“Three Normal School graduates, one certified teacher, and myself.”

“Can everyone manage it?”

“The certified teachers can handle it, but their pronunciation suffers from being self-taught.”
“Normal School graduates excel only in teaching methods.”
“Ultimately, only those formally trained at proper institutions can truly manage it.”
“I know two or three principals and will do my best to recommend you all.”

And Kikuchi greatly strengthened our resolve.

“Mr. Kikuchi, might I still find employment without graduating?”

It was at this moment that Terajima asked.

“You must graduate.”
“There’s no need to rush.”
“Isn’t it just another half year?”

“No—it’s that I’m not certain about graduating.”

“Why?”

“Our class has thirteen students, and I’m in the Bottom Seat.”
“Because thirteen is an unlucky number, Dr.Jones says they’ll drop the one in the Bottom Seat and graduate twelve.”

“That’s nonsense!”

“No—I got so worried that I went to ask him.”
“That old man is stubborn.”
“‘If you indeed end up in the Bottom Seat,’ he said, ‘then your being held back a year is God’s will and cannot be helped.’”

“Well, I’m shocked.”
“I can hardly believe it, but if it does come to that, go and consult Mr. Imai in academic affairs.”
“Exams have their regulations—no matter how much the principal might wish it, they can’t just fail someone who’s earned passing scores.”

And Kikuchi comforted him.
We too had resolved that should the worst come to pass, we would go negotiate with Dr. Jones.

Half a year passed, and the graduation exams arrived.
Terajima had studied quite hard but occasionally—

“It’s no use.”

he lamented.

“That’s nonsense!”
“Even if you’re in the Bottom Seat, as long as you have the points, you’ll definitely graduate.”

As we were close, I was constantly encouraging him.
Terajima too became motivated and took the exams, but on the morning of the results announcement,

“I failed.”
With those words, he came rushing to where I was.
“This is absurd!”

I glared at the bulletin board and became indignant, promptly visiting Principal Jones with several like-minded individuals.
That a man of civilization could be so swayed by superstition defied all comprehension.

However, Dr.Jones,

“It cannot be helped.”
“I did consider it, but Terajima simply doesn’t have enough points.”

he explained.
Because his tone seemed genuinely sympathetic, I even began to think this outcome was indeed natural.
Next, when we stormed over to academic affairs officer Mr.Imai’s office,

“As you can see, Terajima does not have enough points.”

With that, he showed us the transcript.

“However, hasn’t a provisional pass been the standard practice until now for cases like this?”

“There are no provisional passes in graduation exams.”
“That would be a supplementary pass.”
“Since there’s only one failing subject, according to established precedent, he can take a re-exam.”
“Even so, it won’t be completed before the graduation ceremony.”

“That can’t be helped, but it’s strange that only Dr.Jones’s scores are this deficient.”

And we voiced our doubts again.
However, starting a quarrel would lead nowhere.
I went straight to visit Dr.Jones once more and implored him for a re-exam.

“Very well.
“Let’s conduct it at my residence as soon as the graduation ceremony concludes.”

Dr. Jones readily agreed.

We attended the graduation ceremony as twelve members.
This unfolded exactly as Principal Jones had schemed.
Since most guests were British and American dignitaries, they had sacrificed Terajima to avoid an inauspicious number at this ceremonial occasion.
I thought it a splendid irony.
As proof, Terajima underwent a merely formal re-examination the very next day and graduated immediately.
Yet more astonishing to yesterday's sympathizers was his simultaneous securing of employment at Yokohama's trading firm Jones & Jones.
Not even those who graduated spotless could fetch twenty-five yen through quick turnover.
Country school principals being patient folk, their bargaining would come later.
Nevertheless, Terajima—this supplemental graduate—had already secured a Yokohama position at the same twenty-five yen as Tokyo offers.

“Did Mr. Jones say anything?”

I tried probing.

“When Dr.Jones asked if you were still intent on becoming a teacher and I said yes, he replied that while he had no teaching positions in mind, there was a trading firm in Yokohama and inquired if I’d be interested in going there.”
“Again, I said ‘Yes.’”
“‘Monthly salary: twenty yen.’ ‘Noo...’ ‘Twenty-five?’ ‘Yesss... Teacher’s rate.’ Then Dr.Jones said ‘Alright,’ and that was that.”

“The teacher’s rate is terrible, huh?”

“No matter what, I immediately mess up whenever I say anything besides ‘Yes’ or ‘No’.”

And Terajima laughed.

We,

“This is strange, huh?”

“It’s truly baffling.”

And we tilted our heads in puzzlement.

“Mr.Jones must have felt guilty and made amends after all.”
“Jones & Jones is a trading firm run by Mr.Jones’s relatives, you know.”

“That’s right.”
“It was all planned from the start.”

“If the salary’s the same, Yokohama’s better than the countryside.”

“Trading firms have better prospects than schools.”

“If I’d known this, I would’ve aimed to become an additional graduate too.”

And we envied Terajima.

It’s embarrassing to say this now, but I was the Top Seat, the academic prodigy of the entire school.
Dr. Jones and all the teachers had placed their hopes in me.
Having grown somewhat full of myself, even as my classmates began retreating from the capital one after another, I alone intended to remain rooted in Tokyo.
However, I soon realized Tokyo was impossible, so I attached the condition that it be within three or four hours from Tokyo.
I was young at the time.
I hadn’t known that leftover positions allocated to government-established schools would circulate to private ones.
Though having vaguely realized this approach was utterly hopeless, I went to consult Terajima in Yokohama.

“Is it interesting?”

When I asked,

“There’s nothing interesting about it, but since the work gets handled with just ‘Yes’ and ‘No,’ it’s extremely easy.”

he replied.
So one day I went to visit Dr. Jones,

“Dr. Jones, could you possibly arrange for me to be placed at a trading firm in Yokohama?”

I pleaded.

“That would be wasteful.”
“You are not a person who handles money.”
“It is indeed God’s will that you handle youths and serve your brethren.”
“Don’t you waver.”

And Dr. Jones instructed me.
Once this teacher believed something to be God’s will, not even a lever could move him.
I had nowhere left to turn, so after waiting a short while longer, I resolved to take up my post in Tosa the following New Year.
My graduating classmates had already scattered to Shikoku, Kyushu, and Hokkaido.
They all,
"If it meant coming to such remote places, we should have become additional graduates and gone to Yokohama instead."
sent letters to that effect.
When I too first landed in Tosa Province,

Indeed, if it meant coming to a place without a single inch of railway track, I would have wanted to end up in the Bottom Seat and have them make me an additional graduate.

I felt this with acute bitterness.
For over twenty years since then, I continued making my rounds through the countryside as an assistant teacher, teacher, and vice principal.
I'll refrain from saying more, lest it sound like complaining.
I resigned myself to the thought that all my classmates were much the same.
However, only the trading firm manager was different.
Whenever I had the chance to pass through Naka-Yokohama in those early days, I would visit him, but each time Terajima had moved to a larger house and his circumstances had improved.
He had apparently made enormous profits during the European War, then suffered losses afterward, but considering he recently donated ten thousand yen to our alma mater's reconstruction fund after the earthquake, he must be considered the most successful among our classmates.
If Dr. Jones had been alive, he would undoubtedly have puffed up with pride and declared it was God’s will.
Though we were once close friends, the disparity between our wealth and poverty had grown quite wide over time.
Perhaps because of this, just as I had naturally grown distant from my side, he had recently stopped by during his travels from his.
At that time, the topic of children came up.

“It’s quite something that both Imperial University and high school can be managed here.”
“Even if good positions come up, I can’t move from here.”

“Is your eldest son already leaving?”

“No, no—still two years left.”

When this kid graduates, I’ll feel some relief from my shoulders.

“Is your second son in high school?”

“Then there’s middle school, girls’ school, and two in elementary school.
They’re attending every type of school imaginable.
It’s exhausting.”

“But teacher salaries must have risen considerably since then?”

Terajima recalled the past.

“It took twenty-four or twenty-five years to rise from twenty-five yen to one hundred sixty-six yen and sixty-six sen.”

“Is that all?”

“That’s all there is.”

“That’s terrible abuse.”

“No—this counts as preferential treatment for me. Above vice principal there’s only principal.”

“Are Kameyama and Hayashi also around that level?”

“They’re much the same. Since Hayashi remains a regular teacher, his situation must still be harsh. Among the regular teachers under me, there are those who don’t send their children to middle school but put them out as apprentices.”

“How shocking. Isn’t it a tragic contradiction to educate other people’s children yet be unable to educate your own?”

“But I suppose you can’t shield both your back and belly.”

“How about you? Looking at you now, you’ve aged considerably.”
“I called your white hair grey before, but now it’s truly grey.”
“Is it truly that difficult for you?”

“It’s by no means easy. In this situation, unless I use my pension and move to the private sector, I won’t be able to keep up.”

And I confessed.

“You...”

“What is it?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way.”

Terajima hesitated slightly before,

“Why don’t I take responsibility for your eldest and second sons? I too might have ended up like you without my share of good fortune. I can’t see this as someone else’s affair.”

he said.
In reality, having excellent graduation grades does not necessarily lead to happiness.

(January 1927, Eloquence)