Office Newsletter: Walking One's Own Life Path
One morning, Ms. A, a member of our cashier team who faithfully cleans the women's restroom on the second floor of the new building every day, came to me looking slightly troubled. It seemed that water was no longer draining from the floor drain trap.
"I remembered seeing Mr. Sugiura deal with it when it got clogged before," she explained. She had already removed the drain cover and cleaned out the debris herself.
When I looked inside, I found that the bell-shaped iron trap component had become rusted and stuck in place. It is normally removable, but this time it would not budge at all.
After scraping away the rust, we were able to make the trap removable again, and the water began to drain properly.
At Taiyo to Midori no Kai, it is a common sight for members to notice things that staff have overlooked. Yet perhaps such moments are less likely to arise in environments where roles are rigidly fixed into those who instruct and those who are instructed, or those who support and those who are supported.
Ms. A has been coming to our workshop for thirty years. Today she takes an active role in a wide range of tasks, particularly operating the cash register and entering data into computers. But if someone were to ask whether her current abilities are the result of education, instruction, or training, I would say that the reality is somewhat different.
The narrative that "through education, instruction, and training, people gradually gain skills and become able to do what they could not do before" may sound convincing at first glance. To be honest, however, it does not fully match what we experience on the ground.
Rather, Ms. A's present self is the result of her having lived her own life within a community setting that is part of society, open to the public while providing a modest sense of belonging, and connected daily with a wide range of people, from children and older adults to people from other countries.
It is a place where people do what they can, receive help with what they cannot do, and work alongside members, staff, and volunteers who each have their own challenges and disabilities. Within this environment, Ms. A has navigated worries, struggles, obstacles, and compromises while steadily walking her own path. Her current self is the result of that journey.
By doing what one can do at one's own pace, a person gradually finds their own footing.
Becoming able to do something that one could not do before is merely the result of walking one's own path and standing on one's own feet. It is never the ultimate goal. If we place too much emphasis on "becoming able," we risk casting "being unable" or "the person who cannot" in a negative light.
In reality, life is not a staircase on which our abilities continually increase step by step. Sometimes we lose abilities we once had. As we grow older, this becomes not the exception but a part of everyday life.
We often hear phrases such as "overcoming adversity" or "not letting difficulties defeat you." Yet I sometimes wonder whose perspective these expressions represent, unless they are spoken by the individuals concerned themselves.
Must difficulties always be conquered? Must disabilities or disadvantages always be overcome? Is it really for others to decide?
The lives of our members belong to the members themselves, not to the staff.
The words "education," "instruction," and "training" inherently draw a clear distinction between those who do and those who receive. No matter how attractively these ideas are dressed up, there is always the possibility that a hierarchy is embedded within them. That is where the danger lies.
Working alongside members with a variety of challenges involves moments that go far beyond simple phrases like "standing beside someone" or "walking together." There are times when whole personalities collide at the very edge of what is possible.
It may be easier to remain in a safe place, looking down from a distance while offering advice and direction. Such a position may even preserve one's professional pride. Yet this kind of self-serving detachment is quickly recognized, even when we ourselves fail to notice it.
Ultimately, authenticity cannot be hidden.