The Miracle Lecture: A Chance Meeting That Changed Everything

The Weight of Endings

One year until retirement.

I stood at my office window, staring at the ancient banyan tree that had watched over Ryukyu University's campus for as long as I'd been there—twenty-five years. Its branches spread wide and strong, green leaves dancing in the Okinawan breeze. Next year, this view would no longer be mine.

"Is this really how it ends?"

The question haunted me. After decades pursuing cutting-edge technology, was I really going to walk away without one final challenge? My mind overflowed with ideas—virtual reality classrooms where students could launch businesses without fear of failure, AI assistants helping them refine their entrepreneurial dreams in real-time. The possibilities felt endless.

But reality was crushing.

"There's no precedent for this."

"We don't have the budget."

"For a retiring professor, we simply can't allocate those resources..."

I'd contacted venture capital firms, tech companies, anyone who might help. The answer was always the same: "Wonderful vision, Professor, but the costs are astronomical."

In my desk drawer lay a worn proposal, its edges bent from being gripped too tightly, rewritten too many times. Late at night, alone in my office, I'd stare at my computer screen—papers, research data, years of lecture materials. I'd built something substantial. But I wanted one more thing: something that would change students' lives forever.

"Will I give up without even trying?"

Each time I asked myself this question, I had no answer. My dream was fading. My heart was accepting defeat.

An Airport Café, An Impossible Chance

It was just a routine trip back from a conference.

At Naha Airport's café, I sat waiting for my flight, nursing a coffee and watching Okinawa's brilliant blue sky through the windows. What would life after retirement look like? Would I still do research? Or would I simply spend my days looking backward?

"Professor Osumi! No way—running into you here!"

I looked up to see two familiar faces—Tsukita-san from Maia Corporation and Toyosato-san, who ran a startup incubator in Koza. I'd met them at a prefectural startup review committee.

"We're heading to a meeting," Tsukita-san said with a warm smile. "Where are you off to? Hey, since we've run into each other like this—want to collaborate on something?"

It was supposed to be casual small talk. But suddenly, I was pouring out everything I'd been holding inside.

VR and AI for entrepreneurship education. Students building businesses in the metaverse where they could fail safely and try again. ChatGPT helping them iterate on ideas in real-time. The words tumbled out—dreams I thought I'd buried, plans I'd sworn to never mention again.

They listened with intense focus.

Then Tsukita-san smiled gently and said, "That's fascinating. This meeting feels like fate—let's make something happen together."

My chest tightened. The door I'd thought was closing swung open again. The fire I'd tried to extinguish roared back to life. I felt tears threatening as I nodded, again and again.

The boarding announcement echoed through the terminal. As we parted, Toyosato-san called out, "Professor—challenging yourself right up to retirement? That's incredible."

From the plane window, looking down at Okinawa's turquoise waters, I made a silent vow.

*I won't give up. I'll make this dream real.*

One Night in Okinawa

Six months later, a message finally came.

I found myself in a small Okinawan restaurant tucked down an alley off Kokusai Street, meeting with a renowned VR specialist. Over awamori, our local distilled spirit, the vision crystallized.

"The timing couldn't be better," he said, refilling his glass. "Japan just declared this 'The Year of Startups.' Entrepreneurship education is now national policy. And then ChatGPT 3.5 launched. The technology, the moment—everything's aligned."

VR headsets to enter virtual worlds. AI assistants for developing business plans. Real entrepreneurs as guest speakers sharing hard-won wisdom. A safe space to fail, learn, and try again.

"This will transform education," he said.

*We can do this,* I told myself. *We can really do this.*

But stepping into the night air, reality hit hard.

The budget.

Twenty VR headsets: ¥1.2 million. Five high-performance gaming PCs and peripherals: ¥1.5 million. Software licenses, cloud servers, speaker fees... The total easily exceeded ¥3 million—about $20,000.

Back at my hotel, I worked my calculator past midnight. No matter how I adjusted the numbers, it was impossible to fund personally. My research budget was nearly depleted.

"Maybe it really is impossible..."

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. But Tsukita-san's words kept echoing:

"Let's make something happen together."

I couldn't quit. Not now. Not after coming this far.

When Miracles Meet Action

Back at my university, I moved fast.

I checked every available education grant. If just two got approved, I could make this work. Driven by the thought of showing students their future, I pulled all-nighters writing applications.

I secured collaborative research agreements with Abeam Consulting and Maia Corporation. The industry-academic partnership was taking shape.

And then—

The approvals started coming. Education reform funding. Corporate research grants. Like dominoes falling, the money materialized.

One day, an administrative staff member looked at me with wide eyes. "Professor, I've never seen this before. Everything got approved."

I couldn't help but laugh. Miracles don't come to those who wait. They come to those who move, who believe, who act.

The day twenty VR headsets arrived at my office, my hands trembled as I opened the boxes.

Twenty-Eight Young Dreamers

Spring. April. Registration deadline.

I sat at my computer, refreshing the screen compulsively. Would students even sign up? Would they think it was too confusing, too difficult?

When the number appeared, I gasped.

Twenty-eight students. More than the capacity limit.

Our first special lecture: "Master the Metaverse in Three Hours." When students saw twenty VR headsets lined up in the classroom, they erupted in cheers.

"We get to use all of these?!"

After initial hesitation, they were soon navigating virtual space with natural ease. The digital native generation's adaptability exceeded my expectations.

"Professor, this is the future!" a female student exclaimed, removing her headset. Her eyes were absolutely glowing.

After class, a group of us went to a nearby izakaya. Students weren't drinking their beer—they were drinking ideas, gulping down possibilities.

"I want to use VR to solve rural depopulation."

"I'm thinking about a business to eliminate educational inequality."

"Metaverse could expand opportunities for people with disabilities."

Each student's eyes reflected a future they could see, could touch.

Sipping my drink quietly, I felt my chest burning with emotion. *This. This is what I wanted to do.*

The Strom

But life never goes perfectly.

The weekend before our first major lecture, a massive typhoon approached Okinawa. All our partner company representatives were in Tokyo. Flights would likely be canceled.

I spent the night glued to weather reports. Notifying students, rescheduling speakers, rebooking rooms. My calendar became a mess of crossed-out dates.

"Professor, please don't push yourself," one of the guest speakers messaged.

"No," I replied. "We will make this happen."

Messages from students poured in:

"Professor, we're totally okay with postponing."

"Actually, it just means we get to look forward to it longer."

"Don't stress—we'll be waiting."

My eyes burned with tears. These students cared this much. I absolutely had to make this lecture succeed.

After the typhoon passed, one week late, we held the session.

Two social entrepreneurs shared their journeys with raw honesty.

"Failure isn't bad. In fact, there are things you can only learn through failure. What matters is getting back up and not giving up."

The students nodded deeply.

I'd learned so much from that chaotic week too. The best teaching moments come from imperfection. Life, like education, never follows a perfect script. And that imperfection is beautiful.

One Year's Journey

Spring semester, Fall semester. The year flew by like a sprint.

Students opened virtual storefronts in VR. They had AI critique their business plans. Real entrepreneurs gave feedback. They failed, revised, tried again.

One student designed a VR tourism platform for regional revitalization. Another proposed a metaverse employment service for people with disabilities. There were AI platforms for environmental problems, virtual communities to combat elderly isolation.

Their ideas surpassed anything I'd imagined.

The Final Presentation—A Day of Hope

February. Final presentation day.

The classroom filled with students, corporate partners, university administrators. Even executives from our partner companies flew in from Tokyo.

Each group set up booths with VR headsets and gaming PCs, demonstrating their projects to visitors. They'd pulled near-all-nighters for days preparing and practicing. The results were remarkable. Several professors commented on how impressed they were by the students' mastery of digital technology.

After it ended, one male student approached me with a trembling voice.

"When I entered university, I had no idea what I could do. I was anxious about the future. But through this class, for the first time, I truly believed that I could create my own future."

After the presentations, Tsukita-san walked over.

"Professor, from that airport meeting to here... we've come so far."

She smiled, her eyes crinkling. "This really is 'The Miracle Lecture.'"

Hearing those words, the airport café scene flooded back. If I hadn't met them that day. If they hadn't reached out...

Miracles aren't accidents. They're inevitabilities for those who take that first step.

Epilogue—The Road Ahead

Retirement day.

As I packed my office, I looked out the window. The campus banyan tree still spread its branches strong and wide.

Cardboard boxes held twenty-six years of materials. But the most precious things don't fit in boxes. Memories with students. That airport encounter. One year of challenges. These are carved into my heart forever.

Retirement isn't an ending. It's a beginning.

I made a decision: I'll stay active in research and education for life. Just as that chance meeting changed my fate, new encounters will continue transforming me.

I pick up the latest VR headset. What technology will I use next? What people will I meet?

Outside, banyan leaves dance in the wind. A bird spreads its wings and soars into the Okinawan sky.

I place my hand on the office doorknob.

"The Miracle Lecture" isn't my final challenge. It's a light illuminating the path forward, a promise to keep walking.

I open the door and step into the hallway.

Every ending is a new beginning.

My life isn't over yet.

[END]

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"If you don't give up, fate will always open a door"—Based on a true story of one professor's journey

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Please visit our YouTube channel to watch the final presentation: https://youtu.be/FeWOwqreaBQ