Misato

Misato was a girl in one of my classes at the technical high school I teach at once a week. One of the only two girls in the class, she sat next to and was friends with the other. Both acted as managers of the second year basketball team after school. I remember jokingly asking them if they didn't find it boring sitting for 3 hours just watching the team practise. Not at all, they replied - seeing the more athletic boys running around for several hours was not at all unpleasant it seemed. Like most other girls at school here, she was shyer and less forthcoming in class than the boys, but from marking her worksheets it was obvious she was one of the strongest students in the class. She and her friend were always friendly when I said hello outside the classroom, helping to dispel the paranoia I had at one point that the students at the school didn't like me much.

I heard the following today from a local policeman who is a member of the informal English conversation class I help at once a month.

On March 11th, like many members of school clubs, Misato was at school helping with club activities despite the holidays having begun. Japanese building regulations are very firm on earthquake-proofing, and as a result when the earthquake struck the school buildings suffered virtually no damage. Everyone was aware of the danger of an imminent tsunami, however, and her uncle who was in the area made the decision to drive her home to safety in Fudai, a village up the coast from Noda. In the event, the tsunami that arrived 30 minutes after the quake did not reach the school, and all other students have been confirmed as safe.

While she and her uncle were en route, it engulfed the car. Her body has since been recovered. About to begin her final year at the school, Misato was 17 when she died.

She was not someone I knew well, and I taught her fortnightly at most. But she was someone I knew, and she is dead. I see a figure like '20,000 deaths' on the news and, truth be told, it has little real impact. It is incomprehensible. But next year there will be a yawning hole in one of my classrooms. I had thought until today that all the students I teach had escaped. I was wrong.