In Namie Town, Fukushima, Ueto Elementary School remains as a relic of the Great East Japan Earthquake. Entering this building, I felt a heavy and complex emotion: it bears witness to both tragedy and the miracle of life.
Collapsed classroom
Upon entering, the first thing that caught my eye was the dilapidated classroom. The ceiling was peeling, electrical wiring was drooping, and the wooden floor was lifted and twisted. Looking out through the shattered window frames, I could see the still-green fields. This contrast made me realize that over a decade had passed, yet the scars here had never healed.
The sign read "Ordinary Classroom," and beneath my feet were sawdust and iron bars washed by the sea. You could imagine this place once filled with children's laughter, only to be drowned overnight by the mighty waves. In that moment, time seemed to have stopped , leaving only silence and shock.
Miraculous Evacuation
Ueto Elementary School, founded in the late Heian period, is one of six local elementary schools and is located only 300 meters from the coast. Because of this location, it was a frontline witness to the tsunami.
On the afternoon of March 11, 2011, a tsunami warning sounded after a powerful earthquake. With 82 students still inside the school, the teachers quickly assessed the situation and led the children to higher ground. This short action ensured that no one was injured or killed.
In this relentless natural disaster, Qinghu Elementary School was left with more than just shattered walls; it was also a story of survival that later generations hailed as a "miracle." This judgment and action demonstrate the responsibility of educators and humanity's unwavering will to survive in the face of nature.
The quietness of the corridor
Walking down the corridor, I saw a bare concrete wall on my left, a semicircular mark a reminder of the long-gone facilities of the past. Light streamed in from the end of the corridor, and dust particles drifted in the air, like frozen time. There was an almost religious silence, one that unconsciously slowed down.
Witness of the wreckage
Outside the school building, a completely crushed fire truck is displayed. Its bright red body, now twisted and deformed, stands as tangible evidence of the power of the day. Its presence reminds us that this isn't just a fragment of history, but the cumulative weight of countless real moments.
In the corners, you can see rusty safes, abandoned fire doors, scattered laptops and mice - covered with dust and moss, as if quietly waiting for someone to read their stories.
Gaze of Time
"At 2:46 PM, a magnitude 6.0 earthquake struck"—looking at the sign inside the museum, the scene of that day automatically resurfaced in my mind. The earth shook, tables and chairs shifted, and children, led by their teachers, evacuated. This is a collective memory that all Japanese people will never forget.
Yet, what one experiences in person is not simply a sense of knowing, but a feeling of being intensely enveloped by the environment. The empty classrooms and scattered objects crystallize the chaos and fear of the time into an eternal wreckage.
Aftertaste
Qinghu Elementary School is not a tourist attraction, but a place that demands humility and respect. It is a mirror that reflects humanity's vulnerability to the forces of nature, and how we choose to act and protect each other in times of disaster.
When you're there, the strongest feeling isn't sadness, but an indescribable respect. This reminds us that memory isn't about dwelling on pain, but about ensuring it doesn't happen again.
