My friend and colleague Viv rang me at night to tell me Hiroshi had died. He had cancer. It is a horrible feeling hearing that a former student has died. It doesn't feel right that a young man can die before getting the chance to have a good crack at life. There was a very sombre and sad mood among those of us who taught Hiroshi.
Hiroshi was special. As a teacher of many years and institutions, the faces blur and names are forgotten as new classes replace the old each year. It is easy to become jaded and cynical after years in the classroom. It takes a student like Hiroshi to cause you to remember and appreciate why you got into teaching.
Hiroshi was in the home room in Year 9. This was a group with learning difficulties who worked with a specialist teacher. I encountered him when he was in Year 11 and taught him for three years.
He was not a top academic or an elite sportsman. He was not a cool dude or class clown. He was a quiet, humble young man from a family that was less than affluent. It would be disrespectful of me to suggest they were poor because any family that could produce a young man like Hiroshi must have a certain richness.
What made Hiroshi special was entirely attitude. It is a number of years since I taught him yet I remember him with clear distinction, which is not the case with other, sometimes more academically gifted students. He had sheer grit.