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Survival of the Fitness (The Internationalist, vol. 42, Fall 2008)
By Kit Pancoast Nagamura
The Internationalist, vol. 42, Fall 2008
Most adults in the Nishimachi International School community exercise regularly to prevent lifestyle diseases, secure a better night’s sleep, improve mental acuity, or increase physical self-confidence in snug clothing. Nishimachi students on the whole happily mimic these positive models. There are students, however, whose aims exceed fitness; they want to be The Fittest. “Some of these kids,” says middle school athletic director Eugene Bogun, proudly pointing to a display board of Nishimachi’s fitness record holders, “are natural athletes.” Others, elementary school P.E. teacher Takeo Tan suggests, “push their limits to unexpected levels, and set a record.”

Both Bogun and Tan agree that almost all students find themselves challenged and inspired by the Nishimachi fitness tests, a customized battery of physical assessments that make up part of the school’s physical education curriculum. In their trophy-laden athletic office, Bogun and Tan discussed how the tests have evolved and the philosophy behind having benchmarks for physical achievements.
Tan, with thirty-one years teaching at Nishimachi, recalls that prior to 1978, Nishimachi relied on health guidelines provided by the Monbusho (Ministry of Education, now known as Monkasho). Tan and former Nishimachi athletic instructor David Green devised an amalgam of tests sourced from the American Alliance for Health and Physical Education and Recreation (AAHPER) and the Presidential Physical Fitness Award. Then, Tan recalls, “in 1996, while I was on sabbatical, Dr. Craig Daly from Queensland University filled in, and he and David Priest, athletic director, then, decided we should make our own fitness standards because we’re an international school. They gathered information from various international schools worldwide and took it from there.”
The result is a line-up of events that measure full-body health. Ability levels for each student are checked in the 50-meter dash, 1,600-meter run, shuttle run, long jump, number of pull-ups per minute, flexed arm hang, V-sits (which measure flexibility), number of sit-ups per minute, and the Beep Test. “A lot of kids think if you just run fast, you’re a good athlete,” Tan cautions, “but these kids that run fast? Sometimes it’s sit-ups: zero! And pull-ups: zero.”
Bogun agrees that well-rounded health is key, and though he’s only been at Nishimachi for two years, he has already contributed to the roster of events. “I sort of introduced the Beep Test,” he says, “which measures your aerobic capacity and general health.” Bogun explained that the test consists of a 20-meter course run back and forth, keeping pace with electronic beeps that grow successively shorter in interval. Bogun pulled out his computer and let me listen to the eerie beeps. “The school record for boys is 12.11,” he said. This means the student had to run to and fro 113 times, at increasingly fast speeds, approaching sprints at 14 kilometers per hour toward the end of his record. That’s beeping swift, when you think about it.

Aside from the school record-holders, students are able to achieve gold, silver, and bronze award levels of fitness. Gold and silver athletes receive “medals” in the form of order-made patches to sew on their belongings, and bronze winners receive a certificate.
So, how do the coaches measure up against their students? Bogun dissolves in laughter. “Well, when I was 14 and 15, I could beat the school record for the Beep Test; I used to get to about level 14. But pull-ups have never been a strong point for me.” Tan is highly motivated to keep pace. “In order to get the kids to do these things,” he says, “you have to prove to them you can do the required number yourself. Right now I’m working on pull-ups. I can do 18, which is gold for middle school. For my age group—and that’s a secret—I’m pretty good.”
For most events, the Nishimachi gym serves perfectly well, but both instructors occasionally have to take their show on the road, literally. “A long time ago,” says preternaturally youthful Tan, “there weren’t so many apartment buildings around here, so we used to hold sports day on our playground and on the vacant lots. We’d like to be able to use the Azabu Yakyujo (baseball field), but we can’t, so we run longer races around the outer fence, and for shorter runs, we use the street.” This, of course, can produce some unexpected results. Tan recalls a couple of students finishing the 1,600 meters faster than ever, only to discover later that they had been chased by a crazed poodle.
Bogun, too, says he had to scoop up two girls who fainted during the long, 1,600-meter run. “It was a really hot day, and they didn’t eat breakfast. They were trying so hard that they just fell right over,” he recalls, not without a small bit of pride at their all-out effort.
Bogun and Tan share a sense that today’s children are overly protected. Tan says, “I used to work in a no-coddling zone. I gave kids something they couldn’t do, and they’d work hard to find a way to do it. If kids work hard enough, there will be things they can’t do today that they can do tomorrow. Now, not everybody agrees with that method.”
Despite this, some Nishimachi students seem more than sufficiently self-motivated. Last year, Skye Wood, at that time a fourth-grader, ran 1,600 meters in six minutes fifteen seconds. “That is incredible,” gushed Tan. “He beat the fifth-grade records!”
Both Bogun and Tan feel that athletic achievement at schools should receive the same public recognition that science and math award winners receive. For the moment, however, they agree that the minor accolades offered by the board of Nishimachi Fitness Test Record Holders serve a vital purpose. Those names carry a history of motivation, perseverance, sportsmanship, and even the joy of nostalgia. “There are students who come back to Nishimachi ten years after graduating, ”points out Tan,“ and when they find their names still on the record board, it makes them feel young again.”
