What I Remembered While Cycling Along the University Road — The Student Who Wrote “My Dream” — June 6, 2026

Today, I set out on my electric three-wheeled bicycle to visit Coop Hiezu and see the location of a Tai Chi class I had heard about.

I entered several waypoints into Google Maps to avoid the mountain route and started my trip.

Partway through the ride, however, I realized that my bicycle battery was not sufficiently charged.

I bought the bicycle in May, and then it hit me that I had never actually charged it. The battery still showed about 30 percent when I left, so I assumed it would be enough. But by the time I reached the area around JR Matsuyama Station, the battery level had dropped below 20 percent and continued to fall.

I stopped and thought.

What would happen if the battery died while I was climbing the steep hill back to Eden no Sono?

Honestly, I was not sure I could push the heavy three-wheeled bicycle up that hill by myself.

Living alone means not taking unnecessary risks. It also means leaving yourself enough margin to return safely.

So I decided to turn back at JR Matsuyama Station.

When I arrived home, the battery level was down to 13 percent. Looking back, I believe it was the right decision.

Although I was a little disappointed, the trip gave me something unexpected.

As I cycled past Matsuyama University, Ehime University, and the large torii gate of the Gokoku Shrine, I suddenly remembered one of my former students from my years as a high school English teacher.

He was a boy in the science and mathematics course.

He was not the type of student who scored exceptionally high on standardized tests, but he was sincere and willing to work hard. He planned to apply to a newly established university or faculty, and because it was so new, there were no past entrance exam questions available.

His homeroom teacher, who taught mathematics, asked me to help him with English.

One day, I gave him a practice essay topic: “My Dream.”

At first, he could hardly write anything.

So we started from the beginning. We discussed what he wanted to say in Japanese, organized his ideas into a logical structure, and gradually turned those ideas into English sentences.

We practiced this process again and again.

Eventually, the entrance examination was over, and the results were announced.

A few days later, he came to see me.

“I passed,” he said.

“That’s wonderful. What topic appeared on the exam?” I asked.

“My Dream,” he replied with a big smile.

“Were you able to write it?”

“Yes, I was!”

I congratulated him, but I remember smiling to myself.

After all, most of that essay had originally been written together during our practice sessions.

Still, that is one of the charming things about high school students.

Once they learn something, practice it, and successfully use it on their own, it truly becomes theirs.

Nearly twenty years have passed since then.

I no longer remember the name of the university.

But I still remember that student standing there proudly and saying, “My Dream was on the exam.”

As I rode along the university road in Matsuyama today, that memory unexpectedly came back to me.

And for a moment, the distance between my life now and my years as a teacher felt surprisingly small.


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