Clay

Clayton Nishimoto, a proud alumni of the Nagoya International School Class of 1977, reflects on the profound life lessons he gained during his time at NIS. 

Over the nearly five decades since his graduation, Clayton's journey has taken many turns—he has been an engineer, entrepreneur, stock trader, real estate agent, and, for the past 14 years, a high school teacher in Hawaii, where he teaches math and science to students with learning disabilities. In his role as an educator, Clayton strives to make a positive impact on his students, often drawing inspiration from his own experiences. Recently, he found himself reflecting on the enduring influence of the lessons he learned at NIS and how they have shaped his life over the years. 

This is what he had to say...

---

In March of 1974, my family moved to Nagoya from Kent, Washington, while I was still in the ninth grade. At first, I was not happy at all to be moving to Japan, although it was my heritage. I had a few close friends I did not want to leave, and there was no internet or convenient way of keeping in touch. Writing letters took at least a week to get to an overseas destination, and international phone calls were very expensive.  

Baseball season for my junior high school was just beginning, and I was the school’s starting shortstop and pitcher. I was really looking forward to the season as my growth spurt was just taking hold. In a social setting where I grew up — 95% white neighborhood — I learned that the only way to earn any respect was through sports. I did not allow being Asian and younger/smaller than most of my classmates to stop me from being competitive in almost all the sports I participated in. I was not happy at all to leave!  

When I first arrived in Japan, it was actually a culture shock. Even though I went from being on the small side to above-average size, I felt frustrated because I could not speak or understand the language. I also did not appreciate all the shocked looks on Japanese faces when they tried to communicate with me, but I could not respond appropriately. It is ironic, but I felt more like a minority in Japan than I did in America.  

It was a relief to attend NIS because mostly everyone spoke fluent English, and I did not feel too out of place. To balance my extreme disappointment at hearing that the school did not have a baseball team—especially since there were two ex-Major League Baseball players staying in my apartment complex—I was very surprised to see pretty Asian girls, which I had never seen before (but that’s another story!). NIS also had a basketball team, my second favorite sport, although we had to play in the parking lot as the new gym was not built yet. The second thing I noticed about NIS students was how long the hair was on most of the guys, especially those on the basketball team. They all looked like hippies, about ten years behind the hairstyles in the US. Having a short haircut most of my life, I could not believe my parents allowed me to grow out my hair too! With a homemade headband (yukata belt), I looked like an American Indian on a warpath my sophomore year. I always crack up when I look at the yearbook pictures from that year—as well as my son.  

My first life lesson I can remember was delivered by my basketball coach, Mr. Murphy. At the end of the season, there was an awards banquet where we all were supposed to go to a nice restaurant to celebrate one evening. I saw this as a rare opportunity to go to the movies with my girlfriend, and we skipped the banquet. Apparently, I won an unexpected award, and when I next saw Mr. Murphy, he really gave me a stern lecture on how irresponsible I was and how I showed disrespect to him and the team. I was very ashamed and learned the lesson about putting the team first before individual desires.  

During my junior year, NIS brought in four new teachers: Mr. Aliferis, Mr. Hackett, Mr. Selby, and Mr. Kehoe. While they were all great teachers, the first three were also very social with the students. Mr. Aliferis had a nice motorcycle, and many of us also rode motorcycles, so we would go on road trips to either Nojiri or Tokyo now and then. James Steenberg and I would have two-on-two basketball matches against Mr. Hackett and Mr. Selby often after school in the new gym. And every once in a while, we would all play low-stakes poker that was fun and character-building.  

I am not sure if this is a life lesson, but what I learned the most from Mr. Aliferis was how to write the perfect paragraph. It was like the scene from the movie A River Runs Through It, where a pastor homeschools his sons and has the eldest write and rewrite an essay until it was perfect before he was allowed to go fishing with his brother (Brad Pitt). When I finally wrote a paragraph that satisfied Mr. Aliferis, he wrote a note saying, “Yes!!! You are capable of getting straight A’s!” I told him later, after getting a B+ in his Japanese History class, that I got A’s in all my other classes that semester. Still, to this day, I appreciate him holding me to a higher standard academically. Thank you, Mr. Aliferis!  

In Mr. Hackett’s Group Dynamics class, he cautioned us about “groupthink” and explained that it was very difficult to change that type of thinking because people in such groups only want to listen to opinions that agree with them and shun any information that does not support it. Nowadays, in teaching my Statistics class, we delve into bias in its many forms and how much of statistical data is biased toward whatever outcome the presenter desires. Confirmation bias is prevalent in social media, and “groupthink” behavior is a major reason why the US is currently divided socially and politically. It is amazing to me how applicable what I learned 50 years ago is happening before my eyes in the present day. After watching such documentaries as The Social Dilemma and Coded Bias on Netflix, it is scary how technology is used to promote biased thinking. Thank you, Mr. Hackett!  

For some reason, I was selected, along with Kara Doughty, by Mr. Selby to give a speech in English to over 2,000 Japanese high school students. Talk about being thrown into the deep end of the pool—I was terrified. On top of that, the topic of the speech I had to write and deliver was “The Academic System of America,” after Kara’s speech on being a cheerleader! Mine must have been the most boring speech, and the only thing I remember is how I ended it. I kind of froze and, like Walter Cronkite, a famous newscaster, blurted out, “And that’s the way it is. Thank you!” Mr. Selby always gave me a ribbing about it, especially to throw me off my game during our two-on-two basketball matches. However, in some strange way, I was never too nervous after that to give a speech in front of a large crowd or teach a classroom of high school students. Thank you, Mr. Selby!  

This life lesson is often a story I tell when people ask me why I became a teacher of learning-disabled students. Also, in my junior year, I was taking Calculus with three other seniors with Mr. Kehoe. While I was confident in my math skills and not intimidated by being the only junior in the class, I was quite upset when I struggled with one of the topics. I am not blaming Mr. Kehoe because the other students seemed to understand the material, but I was so frustrated one day that I went to see Mr. Guthrie, my sophomore math teacher, during lunch to seek help. In just 30 minutes, Mr. Guthrie was able to explain to me how to approach the math problem in a way where everything just seemed to click. I learned that day that there was more than one way to teach, depending on how each student understands a concept. For the most part, that is what teaching learning-disabled students is all about. Finding a different way to teach a topic such as math or science is my main task. When I see a learning-disabled student finally understand a concept and their eyes light up, it always reminds me of my own experience with Mr. Guthrie. As it turned out, I did well for the rest of the class, and during my senior year, I independently took AP Calculus, the first NIS student to do so. Thank you, Mr. Guthrie and Mr. Kehoe!  

During my senior year, James and I, two of the big shots on campus, were taught a huge life lesson by Mr. Steenberg, James’ father. While he was not a teacher, Mr. Steenberg was a very respected figure at NIS. One day, while James and I were walking through the school’s parking lot, there was an elderly lady carrying some bags toward the school. When Mr. Steenberg witnessed us just engaging in our conversation and walking up the stairs, he immediately came over to us and, in a very loud voice, told us to help that lady carry her bags. Afterwards, he continued to sternly (there’s that word again) lecture us that there was no way two young, strong men should not help such a person in any scenario. Now that life lesson has always stuck with me, and even in my older and weaker self, I will offer my help despite the risk of offending a person in today’s social construct. It is also, in my opinion, that boys need a loud talking-to when appropriate. Thank you, Mr. Steenberg!  

Lastly, I would also like to mention how Mr. Hackett introduced and encouraged me to start lifting weights during my junior year. All NIS had at the time was a bench press and a few hand weights in the boiler room below the gym. Not that I became an intense weightlifter, but I have incorporated lifting weights to improve function and reduce stress as a routine in my life since. I have found it to be very beneficial for staying healthy and active, and I highly recommend it to everyone. Thank you again, Mr. Hackett!  

With all my gratitude for the life lessons I learned at NIS, I would like to contribute to a well-equipped fitness center for both the faculty and students at NIS. And that’s the way it is! Thank you!!!