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The following reflection is a guest post written by Millie Gan, a student in the Spring 2025 Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan Program. Millie recently launched , a platform for encouraging social entrepreneurship among teens.

I believe that ideas from young people can help solve some of the world’s toughest problems; the voices of students are more essential than ever.

My name is Millie Gan, and I am a high school senior in San Diego and a participant in the Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan (SeEJ) program. I am a British national, born and raised in Tokyo. I’m bilingual in English and Japanese, and studying Spanish. My mother is a third-generation Korean-Japanese, and my father is originally from Hong Kong. Though I have no ethnic roots in Japan, living there allowed me to appreciate and respect its people, traditions, and local diversity. 

When I moved to the U.S. three years ago, I was surprised by the number of questions asked by peers and teachers about Japan’s rural challenges, such as its aging population, shrinking towns, and what people were doing to help. I realized how giving younger people a voice can raise awareness of these urgent issues. That is why I created , a national contest that invites high school students across Japan to identify issues in rural areas and propose business solutions, all in English. The top 10 finalists will pitch their ideas live to judges from large corporations and academia. I had the drive to make TBCJ work, but SeEJ helped me execute that drive into action, giving me the mindset and community to take the project further than I could have alone.

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SeEJ gave me a deeper understanding of what it means to lead with purpose and empathy. For example, Dr. Rie Kijima’s session on design thinking taught me how to think from the perspective of those directly impacted. Dr. Damon Horowitz’s lessons on ethical entrepreneurship helped me reflect on why I started this journey. Ms. Megan Carroll’s insights into the nonprofit sector inspired me to treat TBCJ as a mission-driven platform, not just a contest. In one of our first VC sessions, I was partnered with another student for an exercise on creative problem-solving. My partner chose Japan’s aging society and spoke passionately about the need to amplify student voices. At that moment, I remember thinking, “That is exactly what TBCJ is about.” That moment reminded me that while our concerns are local, our hopes are widely shared.

These lessons transformed how I approached leadership as I began to see every obstacle as a lesson. As I worked to grow TBCJ, I started to think more like an entrepreneur: solving problems while learning from them, adjusting my strategies, and staying true to my original mission.

One of the first things I had to figure out was securing sponsorship. I reached out to dozens of companies focused on education and regional revitalization. After many emails and meetings, I was fortunate to secure seven sponsors and raise over ¥3 million. This funding allowed us to provide prizes for the contest and recognize the efforts of students working to help the community.

Reaching students was another major challenge. Japan has nearly 4,800 high schools, but only 150 have strong English or international programs. I directly contacted the 100 schools that had available email addresses. At first, there was silence, and I remember refreshing my inbox, getting more and more frustrated each day, hoping for a reply. But slowly, after a few weeks, a few schools and their students began responding and signing up. That small breakthrough reminded me how wide the access gap truly is. Only around 17% of Japanese citizens hold a valid passport, compared to around 50% in the U.S., which shows how few Japanese students get global exposure. It made me even more determined to connect local youth with global perspectives and to use English as a bridge to opportunity.

The most difficult challenge was gaining official recognition. I applied to multiple Japanese Government offices for endorsement, but most declined due to government policies and TBCJ’s short history. Thankfully, the Cabinet Office met with me and offered support through their regional revitalization team. Soon after, the University of Tokyo’s Innovation Platform Co., Ltd. (IPC) offered its endorsement and created a new “UTokyo IPC Special Innovation Prize” for the contest.

Through this experience, and with the support of SeEJ, I have learned that we don’t have to wait to make a difference. Entrepreneurship isn’t necessarily about launching companies, but about identifying problems and solving them with purpose. I hope to continue expanding TBC Japan and encouraging more students to take initiative, because I truly believe that ideas from young people are what can solve these challenges. It’s our future, and it is up to us to protect and improve it.

If you’re passionate about solving real-world problems, I highly recommend the Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan Program.

to participate in TBCJ.

Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan will start accepting applications for fall 2025 in August.

Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan is one of several online courses offered by 91�Թ�.

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Applications are now open for the Fall 2025 session of the 91�Թ� Scholars Program for Japanese High School Students (also known as “Stanford e-Japan”). The course will run from the end of September 2025 through March 2026, with an application deadline of August 17, 2025.

Stanford e-Japan
Fall 2025 session (September 2025 to March 2026)
Application period: July 1 to August 17, 2025

All applications must be submitted at  via the SurveyMonkey Apply platform. Applicants and recommenders will need to create a SurveyMonkey Apply account to proceed. Students who are interested in applying to the online course are encouraged to begin their applications early.

Accepted applicants will engage in an intensive study of U.S. society and culture and U.S.–Japan relations. Government officials, leading scholars, and experts from 91�Թ� and across the United States provide web-based lectures and engage students in live discussion sessions.

Stanford e-Japan is offered by the Stanford Program on International and Cross-Cultural Education (), 91�Թ�. Stanford e-Japan is generously supported by the , Tokyo, Japan.

For more information about Stanford e-Japan, please visit .

Stanford e-Japan is one of several online courses for high school students offered by 91�Թ�, including the Reischauer Scholars Program, the China Scholars Program, the Sejong Korea Scholars Program, Stanford e-China, Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan, as well as numerous local student programs in Japan.

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The following is a guest article written by Akari Kikuchi, an undergraduate student studying at the School of Social Sciences at Waseda University in Japan. Akari enrolled in the 2025 91�Թ�/Stanford–Waseda Intensive Course: Exploring Peace in East Asia and Beyond Through the Lenses of Cultural Understanding, Education, and International Relations, which was organized by 91�Թ� and Waseda’s Faculty of Social Sciences and taught by Meiko Kotani. The course brought together students from the Graduate School of Social Sciences, the School of Social Sciences, the Graduate School of Asia-Pacific Studies, the School of International Liberal Studies, and the School of Political Science and Economics. With participants from Japan and international students representing 10 different countries, the course created a truly dynamic and diverse learning environment.

Looking back on our five-day program, I feel a deep sense of gratitude—for the opportunity to take part in the program, and for the people I met along the way. I’m proud to have shared this experience with such thoughtful, motivated students and teachers.

Although the program took place during our spring break, the energy and engagement from the students involved were truly inspiring. I was impressed by their insightful questions and responses.

Our group presentation—which took place on the final day of the course, after a week full of thought-provoking lectures and discussions—was especially memorable for me. It reminded me how exciting it can be to overcome differences in language and perspective. My part of the presentation focused on how media shapes public perceptions—and sometimes even hostilities—toward other nations. That topic reflected something I found really interesting from one of the lectures earlier in the week: how essential media literacy is when it comes to understanding the world around us. We looked at how the same event can be framed differently depending on the source, and how these narratives create public emotions and opinions.

What I found most important—what I’d like to emphasize—is that this program didn’t just talk about “peace” as an abstract goal. Instead, it helped me understand how peace has been threatened. Through this practical approach, we could explore the often-elusive concept of “peace” in a real-world context.

The world today feels overwhelmingly unstable. The more you think about peace, the more cruelty you see around you. It can feel disheartening, but I found a sense of renewed hope through this project. We discussed weighty, complex issues with people from different countries and cultures. Although that seemed challenging to me at first, in the end I realized that it was based in the simple experience of learning to respect the person in front of me. I think the memory of discussing peace with people from diverse backgrounds during this project will serve as “a guide” toward peace.

The fear of opening up or facing language barriers might hold people back, but I believe the program is worth trying, and I hope many more people will take this great opportunity in the future!

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The 91�Թ�/Stanford e-Course on Global Health is a distance-learning course sponsored by Takatsuki Senior High School and the  (91�Թ�) at 91�Թ�. Students are encouraged to think critically about global health through a variety of lenses and contexts. Course instructor Sabrina Ishimatsu recently wrote these reflections about the program’s 10th anniversary.

For the last ten years, it has been my privilege to work with Principal Tsuyoshi Kudo, the staff, and the students of . Without the vision and leadership of Principal Kudo, this course would not be what it is today.

Many years ago, as a young college graduate, I worked as an English teacher in Japan through the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) Program. It was one of the seminal experiences of my life. Being immersed in a new country and culture opened my mind to new ideas and possibilities I had not before considered.

All these years later, working with the Takatsuki Senior High School students has been very natsukashii (fondly nostalgic). Seeing them in their classroom and wearing their school uniforms feels so familiar and brings back great memories of my time in Japan. However, what makes this course so personally fulfilling is reconnecting to such curious and hopeful young minds. Their earnest enthusiasm and optimism imbue me with a similar youthful spirit. 

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As a middle-aged adult, it is easy to forget that the most urgent questions young people ask themselves are ones of self-identity. “Who am I? What do I stand for? Where will my future take me?” While this course doesn’t claim to answer these questions, I hope it will open students’ minds to new possibilities. Week after week, we learn from acclaimed global health professionals—including many from Stanford’s School of Medicine—who work in the real world. I recall one guest lecturer, an emergency room doctor who established the first comprehensive emergency response system in India and then created a similar system in Nepal where none had previously existed. There was also the doctor who trained community members in rural Guatemala to make house calls and monitor malnutrition in babies, drastically reducing the area’s child mortality rate. These brilliant and resourceful people, rather than focusing on material wealth, have dedicated their lives to help vulnerable people around the world. Their stories light the path for how a health professional can be a noble global citizen and change the world for the better. What a powerful example for the students of Takatsuki Senior High School who have not only gained knowledge from these experts but have also had their eyes opened to the many possibilities for them to be change-making global citizens.

There is a 16-hour time difference between Japan and California, so I usually begin teaching each class at 9:00pm on a Friday, and it ends late into the night. When a class is particularly inspiring, I find myself buzzing with excitement and I can’t go to sleep. I have to find my husband or one of my 16-year-old twin daughters to tell them all about it. When they look at me, their expression suggests, “Why are you so hyper right now?” My response usually starts, “You won’t believe the amazing person I met tonight…” and “I can’t believe the insightful questions my students asked in their second language!”

The 91�Թ�/Stanford e-Course on Global Health is one of 91�Թ�’s local student programs in Japan. 

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Stanford e-Minamata is a distance-learning course sponsored by Minamata City and the  (91�Թ�) at 91�Թ�. Students are encouraged to think critically about environmental issues, emerging technologies, and U.S.–Japan relations. Stanford e-Minamata instructor, Natalie Montecino, recently wrote these reflections about the inaugural year of Stanford e-Minamata.

On April 22, 2025, Akane Tsukamoto and Momoka Obata, a recent graduate and an incoming senior at Minamata High School, respectively, stood before an audience filled with pride and anticipation at the Stanford e-Minamata Award Ceremony. Selected for their outstanding performance and growth, Akane and Momoka presented their reflections on the inaugural year of the e-Minamata program, launched in fall 2024 to explore vital topics such as environmental justice, the SDGs, diversity, and emerging technologies.

For many students in Stanford e-Minamata, the program marked their first experience in an English-only learning environment. Despite this challenge, the students demonstrated remarkable passion, curiosity, and determination to engage deeply with the program’s complex themes. The first year of e-Minamata has been widely recognized as a success, garnering praise throughout the city and in regional media.

Opening the Award Ceremony, Minamata City Mayor Toshiharu Takaoka shared his enthusiasm and pride: “We believe that the 30 students at Minamata High School have made great progress through this program. We have heard that the number of students taking and passing the English Proficiency Test (EIKEN) has increased since the start of this project.”

Akane and Momoka’s presentations offered a moving testament to the Mayor’s remarks.

“Through this program, I have understood that it is important to know the situation of the world, and to spend each day with that awareness to cooperate together,” shared Momoka. “I believe that ‘awareness’ and ‘cooperation’ will become the key to improving the world in the future.”

Akane’s comments underscored the significant impact the course had had on her. “I believe this experience contributed to me getting accepted into my first-choice school, the Prefectural University of Kumamoto and the Department of English Language and Literature.”

The students’ heartfelt reflections drew applause and smiles from the audience.

We were honored to welcome Yuriko Sugahara, Researcher of Education, from the Consulate General of Japan in San Francisco, who encouraged the students to embrace future adventures and to carry forward the “a-ha” moments that had shifted their perspectives during the course.

Following the ceremony, the students enjoyed a celebratory luncheon, a campus tour (photo below taken in the Quad), and their first Mexican-style dinner. For both Akane and Momoka, this first visit to the United States was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, one they will never forget.

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As we prepare to launch the second year of the e-Minamata program this fall, we are thrilled to continue this journey in partnership with Minamata High School and look forward to welcoming two new students to the Stanford campus in Spring 2026.

In closing, I wish to extend heartfelt thanks to Mayor Toshiharu Takaoka, the teachers and administrators of Minamata High School, and the dedicated team at Minamata City Hall, especially former Stanford Visiting Scholar, Mr. Hiroki Hara, whose unwavering support and belief in this program made this incredible milestone possible.

Stanford e-Minamata is one of 91�Թ�’s local student programs in Japan.

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The following is a guest article written by Joan Benedict, a student from Indonesia studying at the School of International Liberal Studies at Waseda University in Japan. Joan enrolled in the 2025 91�Թ�/Stanford–Waseda Intensive Course: Exploring Peace in East Asia and Beyond Through the Lenses of Cultural Understanding, Education, and International Relations, which was organized by 91�Թ� and Waseda’s Faculty of Social Sciences and taught by Meiko Kotani. The course brought together students from the Graduate School of Social Sciences, the School of Social Sciences, the Graduate School of Asia-Pacific Studies, the School of International Liberal Studies, and the School of Political Science and Economics. With participants from Japan and international students representing 10 different countries, the course created a truly dynamic and diverse learning environment.

During this year’s spring break, I had the opportunity to attend the 91�Թ�–Waseda Intensive Course, held under the theme “Exploring Peace in East Asia and Beyond Through the Lenses of Cultural Understanding, Education, and International Relations.” The course brought together passionate students from diverse countries and backgrounds, all united by shared international experiences and a curiosity for understanding our world beyond borders. Over five days, I had eye-opening discussions with lecturers and peers that reshaped how I view peace, history, and empathy.

On the first day, Dr. Gary Mukai opened the course with a compelling session on cultural understanding through the history of Japanese American incarceration. He shared the experiences of his parents growing up as Nisei, or second-generation Japanese American, and the painful stories of families separated by national loyalty during World War II. Years later, he attempted to reconnect with his relatives in Japan, uncovering stories long buried in silence. What struck me most was how genuine and human these stories were. I realized that history is so much more complex and emotional than what formal education often conveys. Understanding the emotional weight of historical events helped me move beyond just considering what happened and how it affected my nation, and instead reflect on what it meant for the families and people who lived through it.

This theme was continued on Day 2 in Mr. Rylan Sekiguchi’s lecture. His lecture helped me understand how historical bias is often not born out of malice but from the gaps in what we’re taught. In a workshop, we read descriptions of the same historical event from four different countries. The differences in tone, word choice, and framing made me question the reliability of the “truth” I thought I knew. What moved me even more was the conversation that followed. Beyond national resentment, the participating students became genuinely curious about how others saw the same events. It made me realize that history is not just a list of facts but a collection of narratives shaped by perspective. That insight alone changed how I now view historical events and interpret news.

On Day 3, we shifted from the past to modern history and present realities with Dr. Shuoyang Meng’s lecture on transnational academic mobility. He explained how academic migration has long been a catalyst for change and intellectual development across borders. After discussing the benefits of student mobility, he also touched on the struggles international students face today, particularly around career trajectories under current policies. His lecture resonated deeply with me as an international student. It pushed me to think more critically about today’s education systems, review how international interactions unfold in the job market, and recognize the importance of cultural understanding beyond just historical context.

On Day 4, Ambassador Karl Eikenberry delivered an insightful and impactful lecture on the U.S.–China security landscape. What left the deepest impression on me was his diplomatic presence—the way he communicated complex and sensitive issues with calm, clarity, and respect. He spoke about the value of strategic empathy: the ability to understand another country’s fears, intentions, and internal logic. It made me reflect on how peace is not only shaped by policy, but also by the tone and manner in which we engage with others. His sincerity and warmth were unmistakable, grounded in decades of experience across different regions and roles. Meeting someone who doesn’t just talk about peace, but truly lives it, was a rare and inspiring experience. Wrapping up the lecture, he left with a piece of advice to step outside our comfort zones, to take risks, and to explore broadly while we are still students.

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Building on everything we learned throughout the week, we ended the course by presenting our peace projects. The outcomes were as diverse as our experiences, including an international charity initiative, a healthier approach to social media, and a platform for objective media coverage. Each project represented both personal reflection and a collective commitment to reimagining peace on our own terms.

By the end of this intensive course, I was able to gain new insights and challenge my assumptions about peace: that peace is not simply the absence of conflict but the presence of empathy, trust, and genuine understanding. It is built over time through conversation, learning, and meaningful connection. What I appreciated most was how every session invited me to reflect not just on global issues but also on my own position within them—how my perspective was constructed, how my history informs my interactions, and how I can choose to respond with more care and openness.

I entered this course expecting to study diplomacy and international relations. I left with something more enduring: a community of admirable students from diverse backgrounds and experiences and the realization that peace begins with how we choose to engage—with our words, our listening, our questions, and our actions. More than an academic experience, it was a personal journey toward becoming a more thoughtful and responsible global citizen.

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The following is a guest article written by Ryoya Shinozaki, who traveled to the San Francisco Bay Area with other graduate students from the University of Tokyo—under the leadership of Professor Hideto Fukudome—in January 2025. 91�Թ�/Stanford collaborates closely with the Graduate School of Education at the University of Tokyo and met with the students during their visit to the Bay Area.

Mariko Yang-Yoshihara’s lecture on STEAM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Arts, and Mathematics) education encouraged me to think about the relationship between language and interdisciplinary learning in a new way. Instead of asking how STEAM can support English education, I began to ask whether language education—particularly through CLIL (Content and Language Integrated Learning)—could offer something valuable to STEAM education itself, highlighting the need to integrate a human-centered perspective into the traditional STEM framework.

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CLIL and STEAM differ in their main objectives. CLIL focuses on learning both content and language simultaneously, often grounded in language acquisition theories such as Vygotsky’s sociocultural theory. STEAM, in contrast, emphasizes creative and integrated thinking across science, technology, engineering, the arts, and mathematics. Yang-Yoshihara’s lecture emphasized that the “A” in STEAM more precisely represents a human-centered perspective rooted in a liberal arts education. Language is typically seen as a communication tool, not a learning target. However, the two approaches share several features, including real-world relevance, student-centered learning, and compatibility with project-based formats.

If integrated carefully, a CLIL-STEAM model could support a wide range of learners. Students preparing for global careers could benefit from learning technical content in English. STEM-strong but English-challenged students might gain confidence through contextual language use. Vocational students could develop workplace-relevant communication skills by engaging in collaborative STEAM tasks. CLIL also offers techniques that could enhance students’ experiences in STEAM-focused learning. One is scaffolding, which helps learners express complex ideas through sentence frames, model texts, and structured support. Another is the practice of dual objectives, where teachers set both content and language goals. Finally, dual-focused assessment allows instructors to evaluate both what students know and how effectively they communicate it.

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These strategies could help make English-medium STEAM learning more accessible and effective. During our conversation, Yang-Yoshihara reflected on the STEAM-focused educational interventions used at , a non-profit initiative she co-founded. In SKY Labo’s bilingual design thinking workshops targeting middle and high school-aged students in Japan, responses have been mixed—some appreciated the immersive English environment and signed up for the program for that reason, while others felt that the complex topics required deeper understanding through their own native language. This tension highlights the importance of flexible program design that balances linguistic immersion with accessibility, based on students’ experiences in STEAM-focused learning.

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The following is a guest article written by Yuri Tsutsumi, who traveled to the San Francisco Bay Area with other graduate students from the University of Tokyo—under the leadership of —in January 2025. 91�Թ�/Stanford collaborates closely with the Graduate School of Education at the University of Tokyo and met with the students during their visit to the Bay Area.

Arriving at Jtown Pizza Co. on North 6th Street, our meeting place for the Japantown study tour in Downtown San Jose led by Dr. Gary Mukai, I noticed a striking contrast between the scenery to the east and west sides of the street. On the east side stood brand-new, reinforced-concrete construction apartment buildings, while on the west side was an ivory-colored, two-story wooden building with an archaic balcony. Right beside it, I spotted a restaurant sign reading “Minato,” a familiar Japanese proper name. As I walked out onto Jackson Street, I saw more signboards of stores and restaurants related to Japan and Hawaii. In the United States, it’s probably not unusual for the atmosphere of a neighborhood to noticeably change just bygoing straight down a street, but here it felt especially distinctive. Photo of Jtown Pizza Co. (below) courtesy the Graduate School of Education at the University of Tokyo. 

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The few-block area known as “Nihonmachi”—Japantown in Downtown San Jose—has retained much of its original appearance to this day. Local Japanese American organizations—as well as non-Japanese Americans, including Chinese Americans—have made great efforts to preserve and revitalize Japantown, including its once neighboring Heinlenville, a former site of a Chinatown in San Jose. Jtown Pizza Co. now occupies what was once a Chinese restaurant called Ken Ying Low. In addition to preserving Japantown as a historic area, the Japanese American Museum of San Jose was established in 1987. The museum showcases Japanese American life from the earliest generation of immigrants to the postwar period. Artifacts like soy sauce barrels and numerous farming tools offered me a glimpse into the lives of 19th-century Japanese American farmers. A wide range of historical archives on wartime internment, along with a recreated barracks room interior and exterior from one of the camps that gave off a dusty smell, allowed me to imagine the harsh conditions endured by internees. Through this study tour, I came to realize that, although many years have passed and the environment surrounding Japanese Americans has drastically changed, the everyday lives of 19th-century Japanese American farmers and those interned during the war shared much in common with our lives in Japan today—e.g., keeping a soy sauce barrel for planting, playing baseball and sumo with close friends and neighbors on weekends, going to a local bathhouse, and so on. Thanks to the people dedicated to preserving Japantown’s heritage and passing it down to future generations, I was able to catch a glimpse of what everyday life was like back then.

In graduate school, I came to appreciate once again how much I can learn from academic books and papers digitally archived in the university library. Those learnings were, of course, invaluable—yet at the same time, this study tour made me realize how much more I could learn by engaging all five senses. During the tour, there were the firsthand stories of Japanese Americans, the scent of dust in the reconstructed camp room at the museum, the umami-rich taste of loco moco gravy at the Hawaiian restaurant Hukilau where we had lunch during the tour, the strong California sunlight breaking through the clouds, and the texture of the wooden buildings. Although there are many ways and tools to learn, stepping beyond the university library to immerse myself in other people’s lives holds deeply important meaning. What makes this kind of learning possible are the people who continue to play a crucial role in maintaining the vitality of Japantown, the museum that collects, preserves and shares Japanese American history, and the generous financial support that sustain these efforts. I am truly grateful for this opportunity and hope that these learning experiences, which gave me insight into past generations of Japanese Americans, will continue to be offered to future generations.

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The following is a guest article written by Wenxin Fu, a student from China studying at the Graduate School of Asia Pacific Studies at Waseda University in Japan. Wenxin enrolled in the 2025 91�Թ�/Stanford–Waseda Intensive Course: Exploring Peace in East Asia and Beyond Through the Lenses of Cultural Understanding, Education, and International Relations, which was organized by 91�Թ� and Waseda’s Faculty of Social Sciences and taught by Meiko Kotani. The course brought together students from the Graduate School of Social Sciences, the School of Social Sciences, the Graduate School of Asia-Pacific Studies, the School of International Liberal Studies, and the School of Political Science and Economics. With participants from Japan and international students representing 10 different countries, the course created a truly dynamic and diverse learning environment.

If I had to pick out a few moments that reshaped how I see things, two come to mind. The first was in what seemed like an ordinary seminar classroom in the UK where I experienced, not exactly a cultural shock, but a striking contrast between the student-led discussions there and the education system I grew up with in mainland China. The second is this time, through the 2025 91�Թ�–Waseda program, where I encountered not just diversity, but a sense of collaborative equality, where difference didn’t translate into distance or hierarchy.

In both instances, I was far from my home country—surrounded by faces of different colors, speaking my second language, and engaging in conversations that ranged from broad theoretical questions to concrete, real-world issues. But the experiences felt very different. Back then, I was trying hard to blend in, to insert myself into a conversation shaped by others. I wanted a seat at the table, not just physically present, but to be part of the actual dialogue. This time, however, diversity felt less sharp, less hierarchical. Skin color didn’t map onto power relationships, and the usual lines between who’s “in” and who’s “out” felt blurred. I felt more comfortable speaking up, and more importantly, I felt genuinely heard.

I think this contrast also speaks to a commonly criticized tendency in international relations theory to center the dominant voices of the world’s most powerful countries. There’s now a growing emphasis on the globally relevant, rather than the globally dominant. That’s why this program’s focus on East Asia resonated so deeply with me, not only because I’m from the region, but because I’m eager to engage with perspectives and lived experiences that reflect the richness and complexity of the region. These are stories often told less loudly, but no less powerfully. This aligns with what we were often encouraged to do throughout the course: to anchor our reflections in personal experience.

And it’s also why I want this reflection to stay personal.

To be honest, even after a full semester as an international relations major, I still struggle to articulate anything truly meaningful about shifting global dynamics, geopolitical tensions, or the strategic calculus of major powers. Coming from a media studies background, I often feel I lack the kind of structural, macro-level thinking that international relations seem to require, and I’m rarely confident in how I speak about it. But still, one thing is clear to me: we don’t need to be experts to understand how important peace is. It’s not just a theory, it shapes our everyday lives and connects all of us through our shared hopes and fears. While international relations theories often emerge in response to crisis, it’s peace that fills most of our time on this planet. And peace isn’t just the pause between wars. It’s something that takes effort, patience, and long-term commitment. That’s what we should really be focusing on.

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When we ask ourselves how to contribute to something as vast as peace, I found this course offered both clarity and encouragement. It didn’t stick only to traditional international relations theories themselves, but brought in topics like cultural understanding, education, migration and mobility, and identity. Each day added a new layer, helping me connect big ideas to real-life issues. Looking back at the course title, I noticed the word “intensive.” I was mentally prepared for five days packed with lectures, seminars, group work, and a final project under pressure. But what I encountered was something else entirely. There wasn’t pressure to impress—just space to think and share. The assigned readings were meaningful but not overwhelming, and the discussions felt open and welcoming. I showed up, I listened, I reflected, I exchanged. I was inspired, not in bursts, but in a steady, unfolding way. Ideas moved, and so did I. That was the most rewarding kind of intensity for me.

I’m grateful for the way this program was designed, for the freedom to move at our own pace, and to learn in a space that felt both focused and generous. Thanks not only to my teammates, but also to the organizers who made this possible. Our group included undergraduates, master’s, and PhD students. I had concerns at first that our different nationalities, academic backgrounds, and levels of experience might lead to friction. But as we worked together on the contemporary challenges related to peace-building, I saw something quietly powerful: a shared spirit of curiosity, openness, and care. What moved between us was real peace and love, flowing quietly in the smallest units, from one person to another, and beyond.

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