We asked Naoki Iwase (nicknamed "Gori-san"), the principal of Karuizawa Kazekoshi Gakuen, about his concerns. In [Part 1] and [Part 2], we had a series of conversations from various angles about the know-how to improve teamwork in an organization based on "freedom."
In this final episode, we will discuss the topic of "the gap in what we want to do" that is common to both children and adults. We will explore the causes and solutions of why people cannot do what they want even when they are told, "You can do what you want."
An experience that will repaint your original experience,
Release what has become a physical sensation.
Hayashi: As the representative of two companies, Monosus (Monosus Inc.) and Food Hub (Food Hub Project Inc.), I feel that the biggest difference is that it is difficult to join a team with a clear purpose like Food Hub unless you have a clear will. The word "project" is even included in the company name.
But Monosus doesn't ask about willpower at the time of hiring. So when you try to turn what you want to do into a business, the hurdle for that first step is very high. Even if you say "Why don't you give it a try?", they are not empowered at all. I feel that it is difficult to get close to them.
Iwase: I wonder what makes the first step so difficult. The same thing is happening in Kazakoshi.
Hayashi: I think there are people who say, "There's something I want to do, but I can't say it," but when you really dig into it, I think that the state in which people haven't actually reached the point of "wanting to do it" is widespread among people in their 30s and older.
Ikeda: I think that happens to children too. Some children are able to immerse themselves in their own explorations right away, while others have a hard time finding what they want to do. How do you work with those children, Mr. Iwase?
Iwase: What's happening at Kazekoshi, where there is a high degree of freedom, is a "gap in what you want to do." Kids who are overflowing with things they want to do don't have enough time. But there are also kids who just seem to be killing time. The staff, including myself, were worried about this, but the worst thing we could do was ask, "What do you want to do?" This is really the worst question.
Hayashi: I’m really sorry… (laughs)
Iwase: When I asked them "What do you want to do?" they would force themselves to think "Oh, maybe crafts..." But then I would later find out that they didn't really want to do it. If you try to dig out what you really want to do, it'll just hurt. Children will think, "Maybe I'm no good because I don't know what I want to do..."
That's why I think the only way is to meet a lot of people and things. People find what they want to do among the things that they find appealing. What you want to do is born from relationships.
Ikeda: Does the "dream gap" come from the difference in the amount of exposure? Are there any other reasons?
Iwase: I think the amount of formative experiences also plays a role. For example, people who went to "forest kindergartens" are good at finding things they really want to do, and they immediately look forward to anything and become engrossed in it. I think the difference lies in whether or not you've been able to pursue things that you find interesting from a young age.
So I feel like the higher the grade level, the more difficult it becomes to find. That's because in school education, the body gets used to "having to do" things, not "wanting to do" things, coming in chronological order. I think that's probably because people around 30 years old have accumulated that kind of experience.
Hayashi: That's right, it's difficult to unravel that issue.
Ikeda: What about the teachers at Kazakosh?
Iwase: It really depends on the person. People who are motivated by their own sense of fun are good at having fun, but there are also people who end up acting a bit like a manager.
Ikeda: Is it possible for such people to undergo a transformation?
Iwase: I think that happens quite easily. When you have an experience like, "I tried running with my kids and it was so much fun!", your body changes drastically.
Ikeda: Your body changes.
Iwase: Things like "lectures are about sitting and listening" are embodied in our bodies. Even if such people try to do something new, if it doesn't work out, they go back to what they're familiar with. That's how the body feels at ease.
To change that, you need to have an experience that overwrites your original experience. I think that people involved in raising children have a high chance of doing so, because they always have the best mentors - their children - by their side.
Can people only be liberated in groups?
The role of the company and the role of the school.
Hayashi: I was in a male choir in college, and the one-on-one vocal training we did to get rid of vocal habits was embarrassing, just like taking off your clothes, even though it was with other guys. We looked each other in the eye and built a relationship of trust that said, "I accept you," so if you're not careful, you might pick up on the other person's personality habits along with their voice, or even things like, "I'm sure you have this conversation with your lover."
Sugimoto: Wow, it's like a soul transplant.
Hayashi: Yes. I think it's similar to expressing what you really want to do; it's difficult unless you go deep and do it one-on-one, or spend a lot of time in a group.
Ikeda: Within the group?
Hayashi: I have a hypothesis that people can only feel free in a group, and I would like our company to have that function.
Sugimoto: That's really interesting. I want to ask Mr. Hayashi what he wants to do with his company.
Hayashi: I wonder. But in that sense, maybe the university club is at the root of it all. It was a pretty serious club, and we even went out to play for requests and made money, but we fought each other, and it was really hard because we were all people with no musical experience. But after four years, everyone seemed to realize something, and we developed a relationship where we thought, "I wish we could live together forever." In the fourth year, there really is a place for "mutual recognition of freedom."
I think that was probably the start of my company's creation when I thought, "University is over in four years, but if I can do this at a company, I can do it until I die." But this is difficult, when it is linked to work.
Sugimoto: I thought this was the most difficult thing we were doing.
Hayashi: But I think that's the role of a company. Nowadays, the sense of belonging to a region, or even to a country, is becoming weaker, so I think it would be great if a company could be a part of that.
I think a company is a gateway to society. I think that even people who can't get to the point of participating in society as individuals can do so if they join a company. So, one of my themes is, "What is a company?". I think Kazekoshi's question is, "What is a school?"
Ikeda: Mr. Iwase, what do you think is the role of schools?
Iwase: The role of school, or rather, what I am pursuing at Kazekoshi, is the question, "What kind of place is it to spend a happy childhood?" Children spend most of their waking hours at school. It doesn't necessarily have to be at school, but it would probably be difficult to eliminate this. But I think it's possible to redefine it.
The place probably wouldn't be possible with just the children, so at Kazakoshi, we have both the children and the parents think about it and create it together. But I still don't feel like I can see it at all. I have a vague idea that it's heading in this direction, though.
Ikeda: What do you mean by a general direction?
Iwase: One is that it has to be a comfortable environment. The other is whether the person can have a sense that they are changing. If those two things are present, I think it will be an interesting place for people to grow.
Hayashi: Why is change important?
Iwase: I think people are happy when they change. Aside from simply being able to do something, I think that if there are more interesting things to do, your relationship with that person has changed, or you are changing in a way that you find interesting, that's connected to people's happiness.
Hayashi: Is it a hypothesis that this applies to everyone?
Iwase: For me, it's a hypothesis. Because I'm like that too. Children are also happy when the books they can read change. Even if it's a book they can't read, they can imagine "this kind of world is opening up" when they look at it. Change is a sign of trust in one's own potential.
Hayashi: I see. The reason I asked that is because I think there are quite a few people who dislike change itself as they become adults. But maybe they're just getting stiffer as they get older, and they're actually happy about it. The kids are certainly all happy. When I get home, my daughters, who had been watching TV, are reading books they recently borrowed from the library. My second daughter, who is in the second year of kindergarten, has also started to read without me realizing it, and I often see her reading books in silence, perhaps because she's happy about it.
Sugimoto: That's great. It makes me so happy when I see children holding books.
Iwase: It's nice, isn't it?
Can you be interested in the interests of others?
Hayashi: I'd like to work on the documentation as soon as I get home, but do you find it enjoyable to read, Iwase-san?
Iwase: It's fun.
Ikeda: Do you think you'll have fun, Hayashi-san?
Hayashi: I feel like I won't have fun, so I'm not sure (laughs). Why is that fun? Was it fun from the beginning?
Iwase: I wonder why it's fun... I was a homeroom teacher for a long time, and I was very interested in what was happening to each child in my class. More than being interested in the child, I was interested in their interests. When I read the documentation, I can see what the person is interested in, so it makes interacting with them that much more fun.
Hayashi: So, what should people who aren't interested in the interests of others do?
Ikeda: But Mr. Hayashi, weren't you interested in the diary you exchanged with Mr. Sakamoto?
Hayashi: I did. Because I had it switched on at the time.
When I was in my fourth year of working life, I exchanged diaries with eight people at the same time, and I really felt like I was connected to each of them. Maybe I wanted to connect with them.
Iwase: The diary exchange process itself is a process of showing interest in the other person's interests.
Sugimoto: For Iwase, the tool that connects them is documentation, and for Hayashi, it's an exchange diary. They may be doing the same thing.
Hayashi: That's true. But they never do it. I once proposed it within the company, but they said, "I don't see the point in doing it."
Sugimoto: After remote work began, Mr. Sakamoto started writing letters to everyone and publishing the "Weekly Sakamoto News." I think that's because something had been installed in him through his interactions with Mr. Hayashi.
Hayashi: That may be true for individuals, but I guess it hasn't been installed in organizations... Hmm. There are still many things I want to discuss, but I'll continue later. Kazekoshi, I'll come!
(End of conversation)
What did you think of this three-part conversation between the two of them?
I think this story is universal to any organization or team building, transcending the differences between school and company, children and adults. I hope that this article will leave readers with some insight.
For these two, who continue to ask themselves, "What is a school?" and "What is a company?" and continue to change themselves, their inquisitive children are the perfect mentors. I, who attended the conversation, felt like I had touched upon the source of my own energy, thinking, "Ah, that's why I keep covering places where children grow up." Just like Hayashi, I felt like I wanted to declare, "I'll go!" (laughs).
After finishing his talk with Iwase, Hayashi seemed reluctant to leave and decided to try his hand at documenting things with Monosus. What will the results be? I'd like to continue to follow the changes that Monosus makes in the future.