Thank you, Mr. Takahashi

As I take the bench each morning sorting through the winding assertions of litigants, one thought continually crosses my mind: How did I get to this point? How does a kid from Hawaii, like me, end up being a judge? Is someone going to call to say it was a cruel prank, or the governor made a mistake? It is undoubtedly surreal.

Certainly the odds were against me, if one were to analyze the statistics. I am the third son of a single mother who is deaf. For most of my youth, we lived in a studio above my grandmother's garage. We did not have much and my mother struggled to provide for us on her very modest salary as a key punch operator. Only $25 per month in child support, no alimony, and no government entitlement program. As I look back, I am simply amazed that my mother made it all work for us because it wasn't easy by any stretch of the imagination. Having done so is a testament to my mother's perseverance in the face of many hardships.

Fast forward over four decades. I have many people to thank for helping me get to this point in my life. I did not get here by myself. My accomplishments are the result of individuals, living and dead, who believed in me before I believed in myself. When you grow up the way I did, the future is never clear, and often times, it was unnerving.

Undeniably, my mother is one of those people. Her support came in the form of love and encouragement as she did not have the financial means to fund my higher education. Of course, her "reminders" that I should study when I was bored and wanted to do anything, but study, surely helped.

Without discounting my mother's influence, there is one other person whom I have to credit for setting me on this journey as a lawyer over 40 years ago. That person is Ernest N. Takahashi.

Mr. Takahashi was my fourth grade teacher at Pauoa Elementary School in Honolulu, Hawaii. When I was a student of his, I did not know he served in the Army during World War II -- a part of "The Greatest Generation." I became aware of his service to our country decades after leaving his classroom.

After he was discharged from the military, he became a school teacher. Fortunate for me he decided on that career. I am sure Mr. Takahashi thought that his military training and skills would come in handy teaching grade school kids, especially the unruly ones or the bossy ones like me. He was a soft-spoken and modest man, but he had a presence that was dignified and commanded respect. To me as a 10-year-old, he was a gentle giant. As I look back, I cannot say that I liked him the best among my elementary school teachers, and he probably would not have won a popularity contest among my friends. However, I can say without question that he was the most influential and notable. No other teacher moved me in a direction that got me to this point in my life. At the end of the day, isn't that what matters?

My journey to becoming a lawyer started early in the school year. I recall Mr. Takahashi in his unassuming manner asking me in front of the entire class, "Whitaker (he never called me by my first name), what do you want to be when you grow up?" What I don't remember is why he asked the question and if he asked the question of anyone else. It wasn't "career day" and we weren't talking about types of jobs that adults did. No other teacher up to that point had ever asked me -- at least I have no memory of it.

My answer to Mr. Takahashi's question came rather quickly, surprising me because I often fantasized about being a bus driver. We did not have a car until I was a bit older, and thus the bus was primarily how we got around. That may explain my attraction to that job. I told Mr. Takahashi that I wanted to be a lawyer.

Mr. Takahashi then asked me the dreaded retort, "why?" I did not have a clear answer to that question. Yes, I saw lawyers on the TV and thought that was an interesting job. Still I had no clue what a lawyer really did or how you became one. There were no lawyers in my family. Other than two cousins who had graduated from college after having served in the military during the Vietnam War, no one had a college degree. And no one had an advanced degree, let alone a law degree.

With the answer to his first question satisfied, Mr. Takahashi started his campaign to ensure that I became a lawyer. From that day on, and for the rest of the school year, I don't recall that he ever called me by last name again -- I was simply known as "Lawyer." At first I was embarrassed by the tag, but later in life, I realized that was his way of reinforcing the notion that I could do anything I chose to do or be. Soon, even my classmates were calling me "Lawyer." It was a moniker that would follow me through college. I guess at that juncture my fate was sealed. I just needed to figure out how to make it happen. Yet, I knew instinctively that it would not be an easy feat.

But Mr. Takahashi helped me along. For example, Mr. Takahashi encouraged me to read books about what lawyers did. As if it happened only yesterday, I remember borrowing my first book on lawyers from the school library. Naturally, the book's author made the job seem so easy. Well, easy to a ten-year old. Was I fooled! I also recall the illustrations in the book. One such illustration was man standing next to a desk - a very distinguished fellow probably giving a summation or asking a pointed cross-examination question. Looking back at that picture which has been engrained into my memory, I realize it was the first time I saw my potential. Something that Mr. Takahashi had probably already seen.

What started in a fourth grade class followed me through the remainder of elementary school, middle school, high school, college and then in law school. It is as if it all went as Mr. Takahashi had planned for me so long ago. When I reflect on my life, Mr. Takahashi is in the midst of my thoughts.

What if he never asked me that momentous question? What if he never pushed me to understand what it is to be a lawyer and to envision myself as one? Lots of what-ifs that I don't need to answer because he asked me the right question at the right time.

We all should have a "Mr. Takahashi" in our lives. That one teacher who truly makes a difference -- who put us on a path to excellence and who changes our lives for the better. If you have a "Mr. Takahashi" in your life and you haven't done so, maybe it's time to thank him or her, and to show your gratitude for how they influenced you in a positive way.

I wish I had done so. I learned that Mr. Takahashi had died a few years ago. (His obituary stated: "ERNEST NOBUO TAKAHASHI, 81, of Honolulu, died Oct. 18, 2008. Born in Waipahu. Retired Pauoa Elementary School teacher. US Army WWII veteran. Survived by wife, Elizabeth; son, Mark; daughter, JoAnn Alama; sister, Eleanor Oxley; two grandchildren. Private service held. Arrangements by Hawaiian Memorial Park Mortuary." What it didn't explicitly state was that he was a great man and teacher, but it was certainly implied.) Consequently, I did not get the opportunity to thank him in person for helping me to see my potential despite life's adversities and my own inability to do so.

In retrospect he single handedly put me on a course that answers my own question: how did I get to this point? I know exactly how I did and to whom I have to thank for this journey I have traveled thus far.

So "Thank you, Mr. Takahashi for what you did for me and for all the other children whom you taught, challenged and guided." I am sure there are many.

I am confident that Mr. Takahashi knew that he made a difference in my life, and he certainly did. And for that, I will always be grateful to him. So on this National Teacher Appreciation day, I salute Mr. Takahashi and countless other teachers who make a difference to children each and every day.