[Special Feature: 125 Years of Affiliated Schools] Akiko Suganuma: Nurtured by Keio's Affiliated Schools

I was born in Mita in 1943. Due to the war, we evacuated to Ina Valley in Nagano, where my father was born and raised, and returned to Mita when I was four years old. My father won a world championship in billiards and owned a large billiard hall in Kyobashi before the war. However, after the war, it was not a situation where one could play billiards, so he started a machine tool wholesale company near where my current clinic is located. The Machine Tool Hall building on Mita-dori, which used to house "Tsurunoya," was built when my father was the national chairman. His photo was displayed there until it was demolished.

My childhood memories of Mita involve counting cars passing through Daiichi Keihin from my house; I clearly remember there being only three three-wheeled trucks in an hour. The rest were all bicycles.

In the old days, Mita Campus had no guards, and anyone could enter. Since I was an only child, I often took my dog and played up on the hill.

I was born in the tenth year of my parents' marriage, so they cherished me very much. They decided to have me take the entrance exam for the Yochisha Elementary School because they felt that if I went to Keio, I could attend middle school, high school, and university in Mita, and the Yochisha was accessible by bus.

Fortunately, I was admitted to the Yochisha as part of the third class of girls, but the teachers didn't treat us as "girls." They saw us the same as the boys. During the seaside school in Hayama, when we stayed overnight at the dormitory, there were few female teachers, so Professor Goro Kawasaki would sleep next to us. He once told me, "You have terrible sleeping posture."

My homeroom teacher at Yochisha was Professor Sadao Okuyama. It was the first time Professor Okuyama himself had a class with girls.

I entered in 1950, right after the war, so parents had no leeway and times were tough. He often took children who couldn't go out much on Sundays on voluntary hikes and observation trips. He was a teacher who excelled in science and explained many things about nature, which made me love science.

Professor Okuyama's house was behind where the Yochisha pond used to be. At that time, several teachers who had lost their homes in the war lived there. There was Professor Hayashi, Professor Okuyama, and perhaps one other. When going to school, I would enter properly through the main gate of the Yochisha, but on the way back, I would dawdle a bit at Professor Okuyama's place and return almost through the back gate.

There were no pools like there are now, and the highway that now divides the grounds didn't exist, so the forest in the back had plenty of hiding spots. I remember the foundation of a house remaining in a corner of that forest—I wonder if it was Yukichi Fukuzawa's villa.

Speaking of games during breaks and after school, first there was kick-the-can. We played it in the forest. Then we would crawl into hollowed-out trees that looked like small shrines to play house with friends or eat mulberries.

Another memorable teacher from my Yochisha days was Professor Fusao Nagano. He was also a science teacher. There was a science club, and I joined it. It was very fun. He also gave supplementary lessons. I had been taught that fertilizers consist of nitrogen, phosphoric acid, and potassium, so when the teacher asked about it in class, I raised my hand and answered. My classmates still tell me today, "I was so surprised by that."

Chutobu Junior High School started as a co-educational school that admitted girls right after the war, and I was in the 10th graduating class. I became a first-year student just when the current school building (Main Building) was completed. I spent three years in that brand-new facility.

I was relaxed during Yochisha, but at Chutobu, students come in from the outside. During the first semester of my first year, that felt incredibly scary, and I studied desperately. I felt like I knew nothing while those coming from the outside knew everything. I worried if I could keep up with classes or get good grades on exams. However, once the midterms were over, I realized that wasn't necessarily the case.

When I went to the Girls' High School, I was scared for the first semester as well. When I went to the School of Medicine, I was scared for a whole year. Those of us who come up from the affiliated schools do feel a certain sense of inferiority for not having gone through the entrance exam grind.

But eventually, you mix with the people who came in through exams and start socializing normally. Until then, I was too scared to approach them, but strangely enough, we eventually blend together.

I'm sure the other side was equally scared, thinking that those from the affiliated schools knew everything about Keio. But eventually, we both realize that's not the case. That is one of the good things about Keio.

My homeroom teacher for the first and third years was Professor Toki Yoshinaka, and for the second year, it was Professor Kisaburo Kawai. Both taught mathematics. I was not good at traditional arithmetic puzzles like the 'crane and turtle' problem, but once I started middle school math, I particularly enjoyed geometry. I loved how drawing a single line somewhere could solve a problem in an instant.

At Chutobu, I was in the same year as Naoki Aikawa, and we competed in math. If I got a better score on a test, he would go out of his way to come and tell me how frustrated he was (laughs). From Chutobu, only the two of us, Aikawa-kun and I, went to the School of Medicine, and even now he treats me like a comrade-in-arms. Aikawa-kun went on to become the Director of Keio University Hospital.

A deep memory from Chutobu is the drama festival. A Japanese language teacher named Professor Kojiro Nakai was in charge, and he would say, "You, come here," and decide everything from the casting to the subject matter.

Aikawa-kun was always the lead. There was also a girl as cute as a Madonna who always seemed to be the heroine. I was mostly backstage, but in my second year, I played the role of a village girl. The story was about a famine where we went to petition the village headman because there was nothing to eat, but I was quite chubby back then (laughs). I fell into self-loathing, wondering why someone so chubby was playing a role where they were about to starve to death. I said I would never be in the cast again, so in my third year, they let me be the director.

A teacher who left an impression at Chutobu was Professor Etsuo Iguchi, who taught Japanese history. It was a descriptive test, but at the end, he would write various things like "well done" or "your handwriting is messy." Just having one line written in red ink made me so happy and made me want to be praised again. Later, when I taught health at the Girls' High School, I made sure to look at the tests carefully and write a line at the end. I think that was my starting point as a teacher.

For club activities, I was in the Physical and Chemical Research Club. We would collect suspicious-looking sweets and analyze food additives and dyes. The young and charismatic Professor Kenjiro Kaneko taught us.

It was an era when sweets were heavily colored. It was around the time food additives were becoming a social issue. I can't forget how I wrote our research results on a large piece of paper for the autumn presentation and worked hard to explain them to the parents who visited. The starting point for my long-term involvement in food safety issues lies in Chutobu.

At Chutobu, I developed a style of studying hard, and I have many happy memories. My friends from Chutobu days are still close today, regardless of gender.

As I mentioned at the 75th anniversary of Chutobu's founding last year, perhaps because there was a slight underlying feeling that Chutobu has a shorter history within Keio compared to the Keio Futsubu School, we are united and the bonds remain very strong even after graduation.

And the teachers interacted with the students normally, creating a comfortable atmosphere. None of the teachers were arrogant at all. There was an atmosphere where even if you got scolded a little, you could say "I'm sorry" and slip away.

Even back then, when calling teachers, we used "-san" for everyone. So when a university professor became a department head, they were surprised when a student would come in without knocking and say, "[Name]-san." But for Chutobu students, it was normal.

Keio Naka-dori has changed to cater to business people since the bubble era, but before that, it was full of eateries for Keio students, and the shopkeepers were all Keio supporters. When I passed through in my uniform during Chutobu, they would say, "Welcome back."

When I entered the Girls' High School, I would stop by shops with friends on the way home. After table tennis club practice, I would go with my seniors to "Kasuga," a sweets shop that used to be near the road between the old Mita Library and Daiichi Keihin, and compete to see how many we could eat. Opposite the current university main gate, there was a small Western-style restaurant whose salmon pilaf was delicious; that was my treat during summer table tennis practice.

In my third year, I was told that if I gathered 20 people, they would approve a swimming club. When I reached out, 25 people gathered, and I became the first captain. During the training camp at Yumigahama in Izu, I encouraged and scolded everyone, and I was the one surprised when a girl who could only swim 25 meters was able to do long-distance swimming in about 10 days. It showed that you can do it if you try.

At that time, the Hiyoshi Festival for the Senior High School and the Kanna-sai for the Girls' High School were not separate; the Hiyoshi Festival was held jointly by the Hiyoshi high school and the Girls' High School. We both sent executive committee members. I was in general affairs in my second year and vice-chairperson in my third year. I traveled to Hiyoshi every day in the summer.

The Hiyoshi Festival back then was very serious, with many research presentations. The post-festival party was folk dancing.

There might have been more interaction between the Girls' High School and Senior High School students than there is now. Many students participated as committee members. I still exchange emails with the Senior High School members from that time. Some even became married couples.

On the other hand, the Girls' High School being girls-only was also indescribably fun. Since we were at that age, we were conscious of boys' gazes, but because there were no boys around, we did exactly what we liked.

Let me tell you a bit about our pranks. When the gentle Professor Eishiro Nomoto came for class, I led everyone to hide in the back stairs. Even when the teacher arrived, because he was so gentle, he just sat quietly at the podium.

Eventually, he went back to the teachers' room. Then, when Professor Yoko Taniguchi came to scold us, we were sitting quietly in our seats and said, "We were here all along" (laughs). She said, "Suganuma-san, you're the ringleader, aren't you?"

Also, there was a rule that we couldn't use ponytail holders. They said ponytail holders were too flashy, but ribbons were plain and therefore okay. So the whole class wore large, flashy ribbons and asked the biology teacher, Professor Hidetoshi Tozawa, "Could you hold the class on the lawn in the courtyard?" As a result, it became famous throughout the school, and ponytail holders were permitted. I was the ringleader for this as well.

Later, when I became a doctor and taught health at the Girls' High School, Professor Taniguchi was still there. When I said, "Professor Taniguchi, it's Suganuma. Do you remember me?" she replied, "How could I forget you, you brat?" (laughs). But I was happy she remembered me.

During high school, I made sure to memorize what I was taught in class within that hour, and after school, I was at full power with the student council, Hiyoshi Festival, and club activities. It was the most enjoyable time of my life. At the Girls' High School, few people cared if you weren't good at studying; there was a feeling of valuing what you were good at. All graduates say that special talents or planning abilities were born from that environment.

When I was a high school student, I don't think it was as popular for entrance exams as it is now. At that time, it was still an era when many parents desired an education that produced good wives and wise mothers. Keio Girls' High School was different from schools like Seishin or Shirayuri, which were called "young lady schools" back then; it didn't provide that kind of education at all. We could never bring ourselves to say things like "Gomen asobase" (a refined feminine apology).

The beauty of Keio Girls' High School was that it was completely unconscious of such things. From the outside, people said we would never find husbands.

My father was hospitalized many times, so I went to the hospital often and thought hospitals were nice. I also liked science, so I decided I wanted to be a doctor.

I was told to take over the company, but I'm not good at economics. I persuaded my parents to let me go to the School of Medicine by saying that if I became a doctor, I could live on my own even after they were gone.

In my time, it was still an era where women were expected to marry early, and even if a woman became a doctor, she often quit after marriage. When I decided on the School of Medicine, my homeroom teacher, Professor Akihide Sasaki (nicknamed Niya-san), lectured me for 30 minutes, saying I must never quit being a doctor because if I did, the recommendation quota from the Girls' High School would be reduced. I was the first girl from the Yochisha to go to the School of Medicine.

The teachers at the Girls' High School back then only taught what they liked. In chemistry, we were only taught inorganic chemistry. At the School of Medicine, Professor Akira Tsujioka taught organic chemistry, and it was a nightmare because I couldn't understand it at all. At first, my grades were bad and I was called in and asked, "What are you doing?" so I bought many reference books and studied. I had a terrible time. I'll never forget that (laughs). But perhaps he recognized my effort, because Professor Tsujioka became fond of me and I consulted him on various matters even after graduation.

The man who became my husband was my father's primary physician, and we had a student marriage. While I was in the School of Medicine, my father was hospitalized at Saiseikai Central Hospital with pancreatic cancer. He had surgery there but passed away in three months. My husband was five years older and talked to me about medicine every day; I thought it was my lucky break that even though he was in surgery, he was strong in internal medicine and endocrinology (laughs).

During our honeymoon, he told me he wanted to open a practice and contribute to community medicine, and my dream of working hard and doing research in a hospital was shattered. However, since it was a marriage I had decided on, I felt I had to cooperate, and we opened a clinic together in Mita. That's why I've been in Mita my whole life.

From 1985 to 2000, I taught "Health" at the Girls' High School. This also happened because Professor Ai Wada, who was a physical education teacher at the Girls' High School, came to the clinic and heard me talking to other patients, and said she wanted me to give such talks to the high school girls.

When I started teaching at the Girls' High School, I naturally didn't have a teaching license. I was told I could teach anything, so I decided to teach the girls medical knowledge that would be useful for marriage, pregnancy, childbirth, child-rearing, family health management, and nursing care. Professor Akira Tsujioka had become an Executive Director and said he would get special permission from the Ministry of Education (now MEXT) (the trend of teaching what one likes still exists).

Once I started teaching, I looked around and saw that all the other teachers had studied educational principles and educational psychology. I decided I should also get a teaching license, so I enrolled in a correspondence course at Japan Women's University where I could get a health teaching license. I was told it could be done in two years, but because I was practicing medicine, teaching classes, and had children, it took four years.

The high school girls would fire questions at me, and things I took for granted as a doctor would be met with, "Wait, teacher, why is that?" It was so much fun that I ended up doing it for 15 years. Now, many of my former students from the Girls' High School are in their 40s and 50s and are very active in their fields. While there are many co-educational schools now, the Girls' High School has a charm that makes me hope it remains a girls' school forever.

What I thought while teaching at the Girls' High School was that the students are desperately exploring what they will do when they enter society. When I talked about patients, their families, or society, they all listened with wide eyes. In our time, we were quite passive.

However, the atmosphere where teachers trust and protect the students is the same. That's why you can do what you like with peace of mind. That sense of security nurtured us.

I truly believe Keio University is a wonderful school where you harmonize regardless of which of the affiliated schools you enter from, and where you are bound by strong ties as Keio University alumni even after graduation, including with friends who entered from the university level.

(Recorded from an interview. Interviewer: Keita Yamauchi [Vice-President])