I was a cocky dude in high school. Well, let me give myself some credit, I was a pretty confident dude in high school as I had a leg up on the average high school student as I was already in an internship with a scholarship attached. You should be proud of your accomplishment. Stay humble, but still be proud. Thing was, one of my main weaknesses in high school I never truly grasped and worked on. It was very apparent when I struggled in AP Physics/AP Calculus but since I was already accepted in my college, all I needed to do was pass.

And that, was the problem.

I’m no genius but I am indeed above the average curve. Others have done/achieved more than I have (a certain lovely smol person comes to mind). The thing was, I never truly “studied” much outside of studying to simply remember enough material to pass my exams. Problem solving was not my forte. I got by really well by somehow just “getting” the material in most classes. I never truly struggled until senior year but I attributed that to senioritis….. that lasted into junior year of college.

It was there that I hit a proverbial wall. Simply put, I didn’t learn how to learn. When facing an obstacle I can’t simply walk through, I didn’t know how to get past it. Didn’t know how to climb over, dig under, or muddle my way around it. I froze. And failed. Not once, but twice my programming class. And also, my Japanese 3 class. Why? Not only was I stumped, but was also lazy. Did enough just to get by. Problems at home also drove me to be unmotivated.

My sensei knew, and she couldn’t give a rat’s ass to my excuses.

My sensei was a Spartan woman who was extremely old fashioned. Married a white military man, she moved her to the states and had goals of her own as well (Doctorate in Philosophy).  She stood 4’10 but my god was she the scariest professor I’ve ever had the privilege of taking. She knew I tried to do my homework literally an hour or so before class and sometimes in class so she’d switch things up simply to catch me in the act. This was easy to do when that Japanese 2 class only had 8 people.

I hit a very low point in my college life junior year to the point that I thought I was going to drop out and lose my scholarship/internship. GPA dipped, problems at home affected me, and the fear of losing health insurance/finding a job. I failed 2 classes that semester, and both classes defined who I was at that point in my life: Computer Science and Japanese.

What am I? Where am I headed? Why am I crashing and burning?

My sensei didn’t mince words. I didn’t do the work. There’s nothing I could do. I was going to get that F for her class. No matter how much makeup work I do, no matter how many assignment revisions, I was getting that failing grade. And yet, all the while she was adding to the grave being dug for me, the look in her eyes believed in me. That I deserved this to get better. That this isn’t where my career will be buried.

“Live life, <last name>-san. It’s easy to make money. Money always out there. Harder to be happy and be proud.”
“If you go to Japan, we’d look at you funny. Hey, you look like us, why your Japanese bad?”
“You don’t deserve to pass.”

She had health issues ever since I’ve known her. This Spartan woman was so intimidating and yet still so physically fragile. The amount of assignments she gave us must have been hard to grade but she persevered because those hard assignments were extremely effective in teaching us Japanese grammar. When all but one person failed the first exam the second time I took Japanese 3, she was on the verge of tears. She cared THAT much for her students.

Every now and then she breaks off from lecture to talk about her life, which is what her dissertation was on. Being a Japanese woman married to an American male. The culture shock. The trials and tribulations. She gave us life lessons, and believed in every single student. It was not until the last day in class (the second time) that she believed in me highly.

“I knew you always had it in you. I can tell you’re just doing enough to get by.”

I got an A the second time around. My issue was never the grammar, that was easy. It was remembering (I have terrible vocabulary memory), doing the homework (on time) and my calligraphy (my penmanship is chicken scratch).

It’s been more than 9 years since I’ve spoken to her and I just read that her husband died just a few months ago. But I’m just too scared to reach out to her. Would it weird her out? I know her Facebook, don’t know any personal e-mail address. Does she even use that Facebook? I’ve reflected so much since college and I don’t think I ever gave her thanks.

Sensei, thank you for giving me that F. I needed to be thrown into the fire because I was frozen this entire time. You didn’t pity me. Didn’t believe in my excuses. Didn’t baby me a single bit. You challenged and threw me things that you know I could overcome, if only enough effort was given by me. Didn’t throw me any softballs or given me an easy out, because you know the rewards of hard work.

I needed that.