Kaimuki77.org

When I was a teacher-for-hire, a bunch of us newbies made our way into a room with a panel of a dozen principals from different leeward district schools. With our futures in their hands, we sold ourselves in the mass interview for the chance to be hired by the DOE.

Among the principals was Mrs. Fujioka, my former math teacher from Kaimuki. She taught geometry and made me love math for the first time in my life. With a student teacher both first and second semesters, she didn’t have much contact time with us. When she did, though, there was no mistaking the quality of delivery that exuded from this veteran teacher.

After being a math teacher, Mrs. Fujioka became the principal at Maili Elementary, which is about as close to the end of the island as you can get along the Waianae coast. For this Kapahulu girl, the distance was daunting but I would have driven off the island and into the middle of the Pacific to have worked with her. I knew that if she was a terrific math teacher, she was going to be a winner of a principal. Alas, it was not my fate to work under her leadership.

My first year of teaching, I had a class of fifth graders at a school in Ewa Beach. I used Mrs. Fujioka’s style as a model for my instruction. I wanted my students to see how much fun math could be and did my best to instill a passion for math in them the way she had done in me.

Today, I’m one of two technology coordinators at an elementary school where, in addition to maintaining the technology, I work with 4th-6th grade gifted and talented students a couple of times a week. This year, I’ll be teaching geometry and guess who I tapped for advice? Mrs. Fujioka.

My question to her was whether or not I should teach my students geometry using the problem-solving process I learned from her 30 years ago. The DOE has many math resource teachers whom I could have tapped for the answer to my question but none of them held the credibility that Mrs. Fujioka holds for me.

And bless her heart, she answered my email.

She explained that math has evolved a lot over time. Who would have thought math could change so much, it’s so black and white! She made me understand that rather than be rigid and conforming, math should be taught with more application so that it is meaningful in students’ lives. How brilliant.

The truth is, if I had heard the same words from someone I didn’t know and trust, the message would not have been the same for me. After reading her email, I scrapped the lesson I had planned. I taught my students about points, lines, planes, segments and rays, then had them take pictures of the basic geometric concepts on campus so they could see that geometry is everywhere in their world.

If I win the Mega Bucks at our 30th reunion in Las Vegas (hmm… mathematically speaking, what are the odds?), a good portion of it will go to our alma mater. We were lucky to have been students at a school with such wonderful teachers.

In closing her email, Mrs. Fujioka wrote, “take care and just call me Ele”. I sank back in my chair with a smile. I am privileged to know this lady who, though retired, continues to teach with warmth and grace. She made my day and school year.

We had six of them a year, sometimes more if we took a couple of semester-long classes. Most of them were female but there was a good sprinkling of men among them. Some made us fear being a minute late. Others understood that it took time to shower after PE and haul it to their class within the five-minute grace period, especially if their class was clear across campus.

They were our teachers, experts in their field, educators who gave us the tools we needed to live in our world today. Sometimes during their lessons, they opened a window into their personal lives, showing us that they were human beings too. It was easy to forget that teachers were people.

For the most part, though, they kept things on a very professional level. They were always prepared and accountable for the curriculum they delivered.

In every student’s life, there are one or more teachers or coaches who left a lasting impression. It may have been something the teacher said to guide the student on the right course or the way the teacher interacted with students that made the students feel a connection.

I had several personal favorites in high school, one of whom was Mrs. Yanagisawa, an outstanding English teacher. I didn’t feel an attachment to her nor did I hang around her class after school; she wasn’t that sort of teacher. What I admired about her was that she fed us knowledge like there was no tomorrow. My vocabulary grew because of her and that, in turn, impacted my SAT scores.

What I liked most about Mrs. Yanagisawa was that she earned the respect from each of her students by modeling commitment and work ethic. You couldn’t help but look up to a person who displayed her matter-of-fact teaching style by setting clear expectations and challenging her students’ limits.

During my senior year, I’d see Mrs. Yanagisawa and her young children at home court basketball games. She supported the athletic program at Kaimuki with her quiet presence. I’m sure she would have preferred to spend evenings at home with her family but there she was in the stands, applauding when Daniel Arruda made yet another basket.

Thank you, Mrs. Yanagisawa, for being my inspiration. It’s been thirty years since I last saw you, but I haven’t forgotten the impression you’ve made in my life. I can only aspire to be the teacher you once were to me.

It was called the Honolulu International Center before it was renamed after Mayor Neal S. Blaisdell and featured the top artists of its time. Sometimes I still catch myself calling it the H.I.C.

Everyone from Elvis to America came to town to rock the HIC Arena. In those days, people slept overnight near the sweet smells of the koi pond to be the first to buy tickets when the box office opened the next morning. Now the pond is filled with tilapia and tickets can be purchased with a phone call or click of the mouse.

When a concert was happening at the HIC, two beams of light criss-crossed on the night sky like the Batman signal. Tickets were a little steep at $4.50, $5.50 and $6.50 but somehow we scrounged up the money for that priceless piece of paper. No bar codes or magnetic strips on these tickets!

Smoking was allowed in the 70’s and during a concert, whether it was John Denver or Grand Funk Railroad, the faint smell of cigarette smoke always filled the air. To bring the band back out for an encore, the crowd waved flames from Zippo lighters overhead. Now people wave cell phones!

The first concert I remember going to was with a Washington Inter. dude when we were in the 9th grade. Who did we see? The Jackson 5, baby! Stop laughing.

The Doobie Brothers AND Tower of Power? Now that’s a lineup I’d scrape up good money to see even today. Oh-oh, listen to the music!

In 2009, we’ll be too old to holler!

We are going to be 4 bits old in a couple of years. Half a century. Five decades. Our parents’ age when we were in high school.

Alas, we’re not the young pups we used to be.

We may be getting a little thin in some places and a little thick in others but the class of ’77 still knows how to party!

Kudos to our 1977 friends at McKinley High School who set the gears in motion for a 50 year old birthday bash in Las Vegas for 1977 grads across Oahu.

Tell your soon-to-be Five-Oh friends to look forward to a reunion in September 2009! Stay tuned by checking your email and visiting this website for news regarding this celebration.

Can ya dig it?

For those of us who had access to a car or knew someone who did, cruising was the thing to do in high school! At 62¢ a gallon, gas prices were so low, we could drive forever.

With my new driver’s license in hand my senior year, I was fearless! We’d cruise aimlessly in my dad’s car down Kalakaua Avenue and around Diamond Head, through Kahala and into Hawaii Kai at night. The fear hit me, though, when we eventually ended up on the pitch black winding roads at Makapu’u Point. Driving alongside the guardrails with white-knuckled hands at the wheel, my friends gave me the courage to get us past the cliffs! We parked at the blowhole lookout and sat on the wall talking story and laughing out loud. As for me, I was just relieved that we didn’t huli onto the crashing waves and lava rocks below!

What are your memories of cruising and hanging out with friends?