On September 27, Hanae Nakamura, age 49, peacefully passed at home surrounded by her family and friends. Nakamura taught Japanese Language Arts at LM and Harriton for nine years. She was known for, as Eilís Brannigan ’24 puts it, “her vibrant energy that got every student smiling.” Nakamura battled cancer for six years with determination. Natalie Chen ’24 notes that “she cared dearly about her students, and came to school to teach even if she wasn’t feeling her best.” The impact of losing such a courageous spirit is felt throughout the school community, and especially in the World Language Departments and her former students.
Nothing prepares you for when your teacher passes away. Not just any teacher, but a high-spirited, energetic, and cheerful teacher like Nakamura-sensei. It didn’t feel real, when she took half the year off from teaching for treatment, yet returned for the last few weeks to see us all one more time. It didn’t feel real when, even though she looked a little weaker, she still continued to dedicate herself to us learning Japanese. It didn’t feel real when my best friend whispered to me at the beginning of the Japanese set, “Nakamura-sensei passed away.” But Kumano-sensei was missing. Admin entered the room.
There’s suddenly questions, with the foremost being “what?” This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She was taking a leave of absence for a while–we didn’t know why–I simply wanted to believe she may have been on sabbatical or some other non-health related issue. I thought that after her months of treatment, she would’ve been in much better health; ideally, in remission. It’s difficult to articulate the disillusionment when a teacher who once taught you about your own culture, traditions, and language, is now gone.
The last time I saw Nakamura-sensei was our last set of Japanese 1. We had all completed the final, and she waited at the door to see us off. I bowed down and said “arigato gozaimasu” for what I believed wouldn’t be the last time. I didn’t look back, thinking that I would get to thank her again next year. She was the same exuberant teacher that I ran into on our first day; the same teacher who allowed me to work on kanji packets instead of hiragana worksheets; the same teacher who taught me more about my heritage than I ever could have known on my own. I thought she would be there once again, waiting at that door to greet us again with that same energy and enthusiasm. I thought she would be with us in Japanese 2, to see the 2024 class graduate. I thought she would be there to make mochi with us and share Japanese snacks before winter break. I thought she would be there for me to tell her about going to Japan: what I saw, what I did, what I ate, and talk about where she would’ve gone instead. I wanted to believe that the good that was there would stay.
Things won’t be entirely the same as they were before. It’s never easy to reconcile with the loss of somebody who is close to you, regardless of if they’re a family member or a teacher. To me, Nakamura-sensei was a little bit of both. She was a teacher, but treated us as if we were her children. Even though she was suffering, she soldiered on for us. Although I will miss Nakamura-sensei, she helped me beyond how words can express, and I’m glad I was able to thank her for that. ありがとうございました、先生。中川 律
