We are honored that Sensei Miwako Sakabayashi has been featured in a recent Japanese newspaper article, highlighting her dedication to advancing soroban education in the United States. The article explores her journey—from her early years in Japan to establishing a thriving soroban school and shaping the next generation of students.
đź“– Read the original article in Japanese: https://www.e-osc.co.jp/hiroba/gallery/img/2503.pdf
đź“„ For English readers, we have provided a full translation below.
We are also pleased to share that Sensei Miwako has recently been appointed as the President of Soroban League North America. As she takes on this new role, she remains committed to promoting the benefits of soroban education on a national and international scale.
The Origins and Journey of the Soroban
The origins of the soroban (Japanese abacus) date back to around 2000–3000 BC in Mesopotamia. It was introduced to Japan from China during the Muromachi period. Over time, Japan made unique improvements to its design, adopting the modern form with one bead on the upper row and four beads on the lower row. Eventually, the soroban crossed the Pacific Ocean.
Portland, Oregon, is home to global IT companies and major sportswear brands, as well as research and development hubs. Miwako Sakabayashi has been running a soroban school in a suburban area of Portland for a quarter of a century.
Her school is located in a multi-tenant building in an area filled with Chinese and Indian grocery stores and general merchandise shops. Her students range from preschoolers who cannot yet write to high schoolers preparing for college. She laughs, saying, “In Japan, when you tell kids to sit down, they do it right away. But here, kids have a stronger sense of independence, so it doesn’t work like that.” Because her students come from diverse backgrounds, she has to explain the same concept in different ways to make sure it reaches everyone.
She started by teaching two students at home—one child of a Japanese expatriate and one Japanese-American. Today, her school welcomes 120 students from even more diverse backgrounds.
A Childhood Shaped by Hardship and Determination
Sakabayashi was born in Takaoka City to visually impaired parents who ran an acupuncture and moxibustion clinic. Her father lost sight in one eye due to an accident at a factory, and later lost vision in the other. Her mother was also visually impaired. Since both parents were busy and had difficulty seeing, her grandmother took care of the household chores.
Her father was a highly skilled acupuncturist, and her mother assisted in treatments. Their reputation attracted professional athletes and corporate executives from far away. However, despite their skills, the societal perception of visually impaired people was much colder back then. Sakabayashi often overheard people making disparaging remarks about her parents. When she walked with her father, guiding her partially sighted mother, they were sometimes taunted with, “What are you doing in the daytime?”
At school, she was also teased. Classmates would mimic the blind swordsman from the movie Zatoichi, making fun of her. She felt humiliated but kept those feelings to herself. “My parents already had enough struggles of their own. They didn’t need to hear about mine,” she thought.
Despite hardships, her parents worked tirelessly to provide for the family. They built a large house near the station, and their skills earned them the trust of many. Although she sometimes rebelled against them, she admired their resilience, which became a guiding principle in her life.
She first encountered the soroban in second grade. At the time, it was commonly said that mastering the abacus would ensure future job security. However, her passion for it wasn’t motivated by practicality—it was simply fun. She loved improving her skills, competing, and even doing mental calculations. In her mind, she could vividly visualize the beads moving. She also admired her young and cheerful teacher, who listened to her school troubles like an older sister.
In fourth grade, she entered her first state competition. She got carsick on the way and vomited, but still placed third. Her teacher praised her, saying, “You have nerves of steel.” That made her love the soroban even more. She went on to win multiple state championships.
However, in sixth grade, her beloved teacher married and moved away. She lost interest since she had enjoyed soroban largely because of her teacher. Other soroban schools invited her to join, but she didn’t want to feel like she was being used, so she quit. Without soroban, her life felt directionless through middle and high school.
After graduating from vocational school, she got a job at a local bank, where her soroban skills once again proved useful. She was faster at calculations than a calculator, making her highly valued at work. However, she noticed that promotion opportunities favored male university graduates. Seeing her male colleagues get transferred to prestigious positions made her question her future at the bank.
A Leap of Faith to America
In 1992, she quit her job without consulting her parents and decided to move to the United States. She had always been fascinated by foreign countries. She enrolled in a language school in Portland Oregon, partly because Toyama Prefecture had just established a sister-state relationship with Oregon. She had no concrete plans but believed living there would eventually lead to job opportunities. It was an impulsive decision.
She boarded a plane from Nagoya Airport. Looking out the window, she murmured, “I hope we never arrive.” The moment she left Japan, anxiety hit her. She had packed a soroban in her suitcase like a good-luck charm.
Surrounded by young students, she studied desperately. Her biggest challenge was listening comprehension. She watched Home Alone and Terminator on VHS tapes so many times that they nearly wore out. It took her a while to realize that “I’ll be back” was I’ll be back.
She eventually married a local man who had lived in Japan and was involved in the food business. They had three children. For five years, she devoted herself to raising them in a foreign land.
One day, her husband showed her a New York Times article about a soroban school in New York. He encouraged her, saying, “You should do this too.” She hesitated. She lacked confidence in her English and felt uncomfortable showing off her skills. However, her husband pushed her, saying, “By teaching others, you’ll create a ripple effect.”
Although she was proficient in soroban, she had never taught it before. She sought advice from others who had started soroban schools abroad and even from applied mathematics professors. Gradually, she started feeling excited. She placed a small newspaper ad and started teaching at home. Her school gained attention after being featured in a local newspaper. The number of students, mostly Asian descent, quickly grew from a few to dozens.
In 2005, she divorced. Her husband’s business had struggled, straining their marriage. She sold their home and became a single mother of three. Once again, soroban became her lifeline. Her personal life was turbulent, but seeing her students grow gave her strength.
More Than Just Math—Building Character
For her, teaching soroban is not just about calculation skills. “It instills core values that shape a person—perseverance and a fighting spirit. In long calculations, even one mistake ruins everything. Soroban fosters the mindset to take on challenges,” she says confidently, as she herself was shaped by soroban.
She listens to her students talk about school life, their struggles, and achievements, just as her own teacher once did for her. Because of this trust, her students respond to strict guidance.
One of her long-time students, Winston Chan, became the U.S. national champion and ranked ninth in the world last year. Inspired by Sakabayashi’s visually impaired parents, he began volunteering to teach soroban at senior centers and schools for the blind. “Sensei understands each of us individually and supports us. Many graduates still stay in touch with her. I’m sure I will too,” he says fondly.
Her journey has not always been smooth. A business partner embezzled funds, forcing her into bankruptcy. She was diagnosed with depression and saw a counselor weekly while rebuilding her school. “People call me tough, but there are times I feel like I can’t endure anymore. Still, I only have this one life, so I’ll live it.”
Every March, she holds a soroban competition for all her students. When she stands on stage to give a speech, she pictures her late parents’ faces. “They were always too busy to attend my competitions when I was a child. Maybe now they can.”
Opportunities to teach in India and Dubai are emerging. She jokes, “If it comes down to it, I won’t be stuck in America forever.” The quiet sound of soroban beads clicking continues to resonate across the world.
On March 1, Sakabayashi will become the President of Soroban League North America. Her first major task will be organizing an international competition in Los Angeles this August—a large-scale event bringing together participants from around the world. Her goal is not just to chase rankings but to spread an abacus education that has lifelong meaning.
