Origin
The journey that shaped my perspective
Over the past decade, I've attended 11 different schools across both America and Japan. In 2019, after finishing elementary school in Yokohama, my family moved back to San Diego. There, I entered middle school eager for a new challenge, but the slow and rigid structures quickly left me feeling unchallenged and disillusioned with the system.
Even after switching schools twice, I struggled to find a place where my curiosity could thrive, and over time, my motivation to attend school faded. With my hopes hung low, I walked into my 9th-grade classroom assuming this school, like the ones before it, would be more of the same. But little did I know, choosing to attend High Tech High Mesa would become the catalyst that transformed my life trajectory.
From the moment I was greeted, I felt immersed in a community brimming with agency and joy. Right away, my teachers made it clear that we held ownership over our learning and that we decided how to challenge ourselves. Our first project, Uncommon Message, was centered on creating artworks that uplifted stories of underrepresented figures throughout history.
In May of 2022, I had the opportunity to attend an Introductory Workshop to Compassionate Systems, led by Mette Böll and Peter Senge—the co-founders of the Center for Systems Awareness and global leaders committed to systems change within education. Although I was the only high schooler in the room, I was surrounded by educators who, like me, understood that the status quo of education isn't working for young people.
Over the course of three days, I was introduced to tools and practices that deepened my awareness, sharpened my systems lens, and strengthened my sense of connection with others. After being enamored by the work, I applied to join their Youth Council and soon after, became one of the first high schoolers to enroll in their year-long Master Practitioner Program.
Through that experience, I formed close bonds with educators from around the world and used the framework to deepen my own practices as I continued to grow—both as a learner and a human being.
As a student ambassador at my high school, I had the opportunity to tour dozens of visiting educators—many from Japan—who were eager to learn about project-based learning and how to bring it into their own schools. With a deep understanding of both the ideals of PBL and the limitations I've experienced as a student, I tried to offer honest, balanced reflections on what was working and where there's still room left to grow.
At DL23, I had the privilege of assisting Ron Berger—author of Ethic of Excellence—in his "Dive into Disco" Deep Dive, where we explored how the Disco movement opened spaces for marginalized communities to express identity, liberation, and joy. The following year, I designed and co-facilitated my own workshop focused on transformative practices in the classroom.
Most recently, at Deeper Learning 2025 in San Diego, our team from Deeper Learning Japan was invited by Ron Berger to speak on a panel where we shared our perspectives on how different cultures support, and can sometimes hinder, students in seeing themselves as learners.
In the summer of 2023, I participated in a six-week study abroad program in Sendai, Japan. This marked my first time returning to the country since the COVID-19 pandemic over three years ago, and it allowed me to revisit a familiar place under a new light. For two weeks, I attended a traditional Japanese high school as I sat through classes conducted entirely in Japanese—most of which went right over my head.
But still, I found joy in the rhythm of school life and new friends who welcomed me into their world from late-night karaoke to rehearsals for the school's competitive music festival where I performed alongside them. After their semester ended, I transitioned to another local school for a week, this time with an International Baccalaureate (IB) program.
Beyond academics, living away from my family for the first time gave me a sense of independence I hadn't yet experienced. These questions weren't just a matter of practicality, they touched on something deeper I was forced to confront: what experiences make a life worth living?
During the last month of my junior year, I participated in my school's internship program, a graduation requirement that tasks students to find and engage in meaningful work outside of the classroom. Given my long-standing interest in education, I reached out to my 9th-grade Humanities teacher, who had since become the Dean of Expeditions at a high school in the Bay Area.
For the first time, I experienced school not as a student, but as an administrator as I became immersed in the day-to-day work of school leadership. I sat in on meetings, helped manage logistics, and saw how administrators navigate the often messy realities of an organization. Through this I came to understand that effective change in schools rarely comes in sweeping waves.
One unexpected avenue that emerged from my internship began when my mentor was tasked with creating the school's graduation slideshow. What would've been a repetitive process turned into a chance to engineer a digital solution. I realized that the process of building something useful from scratch—especially when it served a real community need—was exhilarating. Technology, I discovered, is most powerful when it's in service of people.
