As fewer children are born in Japan, educational approaches are starting to change. Traditional competitive and uniform policies are shifting to a focus on nurturing individual growth. Architects Tezuka Takaharu and Yui have designed many buildings focused on children's education. Their spatial designs focus on distance, responsibility and compassion, and have received domestic and international attention. Presenter Andy visits the Tezukas' home to discuss their unique ideas about raising children, and to explore the potential in architecture that prioritizes children's emotional growth.
A quirky building shaped like a witch's hat.
This is the forest cabin of a Tokyo kindergarten.
Rainbow lights dance across the floor.
They're created by a glass prism in the ceiling.
You're wearing rainbow shoes!
The building is the work of architects and married couple Tezuka Takaharu and Yui.
Their work has earned them global attention for the new potential it presents for education.
This nursery school is a cluster of round huts, providing endless circular paths for kids to roam freely.
This elementary school has no walls.
Students are free to choose where they want to learn.
The couple also designed their own home with a shared family space.
How did growing up without walls affect their children?
I visited the Tezuka home to discuss the complex relationship between education and architecture.
As a father of three, I am very interested in the Tezuka family's lifestyle.
Hello, Yui-san!
Great to see you again!
- Thanks for having me.
- Thanks for coming in this weather!
Hello, everyone!
It's lovely to see you again.
My partner, Takaharu.
Our daughter Buna, and our son, Shii.
- Hello!
- A pleasure to meet you both!
Each member of this unique family has their own color.
Buna is yellow, and Shii is green.
Buna is still yellow, even now she's older.
- But Shii's changed.
- You have?
- Still green.
- A little.
- I see it, that's fun!
- The colors are useful.
- Thanks for having me today.
- We're happy to!
So this is the main room.
What lovely natural light!
- It's why we put in the upper windows.
- They're big!
- All one room.
- Such a fun space.
We all study, work, and eat
around this 4-meter table.
Extraordinary.
A very unusual setup.
This single room is over 50 square meters.
The centerpiece of the home is this four-meter, 300kg table of the Tezukas' own design.
It had to be big enough to accommodate every aspect of daily life.
Beside it, a kitchen counter of the same length.
At the other end of the room is a bathroom and bedrooms with only slim walls between them.
The design ensures the entire family can always feel each other's presence.
Nice and fluffy.
All four Tezukas eat, work, and study together in the same space.
Their oldest child, Buna, is now in her twenties.
This is the only lifestyle she's known.
There's nowhere to hide.
You have to share with the family,
like it or not.
Very true.
It must encourage communication.
It does.
How was it, growing up here?
Did you get to an age where
you really wanted privacy?
- I was happy with my room.
- But there's no door.
There is! We close it at night to sleep.
- You close it up.
- For sleeping, yes.
That's the bathroom door?
It slides across to make a private space.
Oh, I see.
What do you think, Shii?
I never had a rebellious or a shy phase.
I'm fine without a bedroom.
Really? You and Buna don't fight?
- Not for years.
- We did as kids. Not now.
- How peaceful.
- Look at them!
You're really close! That's great.
The children's small private spaces were designed by their parents.
They make the most of the limited floorspace, and feel almost like secret hideouts.
I like sitting at the far end of the bed.
- Leaning on the wall?
- It's cozy.
And you, Shii?
I like sitting by the window.
I study there sometimes.
How do you get up there?
Oh, it's sturdy!
- Yes, very sturdy.
- That's how you climb up.
What a great window!
At first, Shii would get lonely.
He didn't want his own room.
We added a window
so he could see his sister.
Ow!
- You're too big for that now!
- I'd forgotten!
That's so fun!
Yui-san, what is your favorite
place in the house?
I'd have to choose the table.
It feels like my space.
- Here?
- I can do anything here.
The kids used to run around it.
An endless game of chase.
It gave me a real sense of just
how much kids love to run around.
- That inspired Fuji Kindergarten.
- Of course, yes.
- Allow the kids to run in circles.
- It's perfect for that.
The design of Fuji Kindergarten took clear inspiration from how Buna and Shii played as kids.
It's the Tezukas' best-known work -
the OECD declared it one of the world's most outstanding schools.
The huge, circular roof ensures no child at this kindergarten is left out.
With no walls to block sight or sound, the children can run and play to their hearts' content.
The classrooms are left wide open.
The school's director was a fan of the plan.
As adults, we work in noisy environments.
And we need to concentrate and
listen to others through the noise.
Concentrating through chaos.
That's everyday life.
Our teachers don't need to raise their voices
to get the kids' attention.
It's amazing. Even over singing!
Their focus is on another level.
We're building an environment for them.
And I hope to keep expanding on it.
The outdoor space is bare earth - the natural state of the ground.
Growing up in the city, this helps the kids learn new skills and resilience.
I remember the director telling us,
'We don't need some fancy building!'
He was pretty blunt about it!
It really resonated with me.
A fancy building, all divided up
with carefully curated environments.
He said, 'That won't help them grow.'
Let's say the kids want to play shopkeeper.
You might give them a toy cash register.
But you've just given them a toy.
You haven't encouraged them to think.
There's no fancy equipment there.
Just a space to run around,
and some trees. That's it.
The kids go in and make up
their own games to play.
That's exactly what he wanted.
But they needed a new building for it.
Architecture is the key element.
Exactly. Visitors to the kindergarten
all ask the same thing.
'Don't the kids run into each other?'
The director says, 'Nobody's died yet!'
- Just the right amount of risk.
- A necessary thing.
Exactly. It's about the real world.
Everything there is real.
The kids enjoy thinking and choosing.
It's vital that they expect choices.
The philosophy of that kindergarten
really drove that home for me.
The gem of the Tezuka home is their grand piano.
- Do you all play?
- I'm terrible, but Buna's great.
Will you play a little for us?
A special performance!
I haven't practiced for a while!
We considered building a music room.
But despite the drawbacks I said no.
I can always hear my daughter playing.
It's one more form of communication.
We learn to be considerate.
When not to disturb the others.
That builds relationships.
How dull would the world become
if we never troubled one another?
Everyday inconveniences also allow us
to truly share our joys.
Oh, it's no good!
- You did great!
- I kept messing up!
They'll edit it to keep the good bits!
The Tezukas met while studying architecture at university,
and married in London where Takaharu was working.
After returning to Japan, they opened an architecture studio.
Both of their fathers also worked in the field, so they grew up with a keen spatial awareness.
Yui made this incredible model of her family home when she was just 12.
Her room was only separated from the living space by a sliding door,
so she was always aware of her family's presence.
I was born and raised in a house
designed by my father. I loved it.
- My room had a veranda.
- An engawa veranda!
I'd dangle my legs off it while
I read or studied by the garden.
- This is the garden?
- Yes, I loved looking out at it.
I love Japan's engawa verandas.
My grandmother's was my favorite spot.
Being connected to the outside through
a veranda or window feels right to me.
- It's natural.
- It is, yes.
Many of the Tezukas' designs highlight this wonderful connection to the outside.
The children at this kindergarten spend two days a week surrounded by nature.
They take a 15-minute ride on the bus...
...to this quirky building in the forest, shaped like a witch's hat.
It's a space designed by the Tezukas - a refuge from the summer sun, or unexpected rain.
The interior smells of wood - it feels almost like a ski lodge.
And there's plenty of natural light.
Look at the big rainbow!
The skylight was designed to act as a prism.
The couple ran experiments on the best angles for light.
It's like dappled sunlight through leaves.
The children are delighted by the magical rainbows it creates.
You ate it?
What does it taste of?
Melon and kiwi!
A key feature are these five-meter-long eaves.
They protect against harsh sun and rain,
but don't wall the children off from the outside world.
There was a mantis!
Look!
Deputy principal Takisawa Michiko.
I love the space under the eaves.
All that sunlight.
It's so special to hear rain while
you're dry and also outside.
The kids' minds are working at
top speed while they play.
They listen and absorb everything
even if they don't express it.
These experiences will be treasured.
The children's imaginations are given full freedom to develop in this inside-outside space under the eaves.
- I don't like spaces made for kids.
- What do you mean?
That wonderful forest is owned by
a farming and theology school.
The kids play in it, then return to
the witch's hat. It's a magical space.
It had to feel like it had always
been there. That it belonged there.
Can you tell me about the eaves?
Some see architecture as a shelter.
Something to protect us from snow or cold.
But it's actually pleasant to
be outside most of the year.
So how do we fit ourselves into
our natural surroundings?
Shut off from nature, we die.
Without shelter, we die.
It's a fine line!
Eaves serve a vital function
in connecting us to the outside.
There was an old saying about
sheltering thieves under the eaves.
But nobody uses it anymore.
- I'd not heard that.
- Because nobody has eaves.
Now teens gather outside
convenience stores and get chased off.
Nobody asks why they're not
at home eating dinner. We should!
Without eaves, we're all walled off
from other people, from society.
We've lost that connection.
Sheltering under eaves promotes
connection, an awareness of others.
And of nature, of course.
It really is vital.
A key architectural element.
I'm fascinated by the connections you
draw between architecture and society.
You also understand and consider
the problems we face.
The average classroom has a teacher,
a blackboard, and rows of desks.
A picture from the 1800s, isn't it?
Part of the problem is that not enough
people take issue with that.
Education is already changing.
But the architecture hasn't kept up
with that evolution.
One major shift is IT.
Teachers used to collect math tests,
mark them, and return them.
Now that can all be done on a tablet.
These days students can source
knowledge on their own.
But they need to turn that knowledge
into wisdom.
Knowledge alone is only good to you.
You need wisdom to use it.
How do we help society? What role
do we play among our fellow humans?
That's all changing so fast.
And educators have realized this.
Architecture needs to keep pace.
The education ministry has guidelines
for these kinds of projects.
Architects are supposed to follow them.
Classrooms should be clearly divided.
All the rooms should be square.
Everything is squared off.
So much in Japan has evolved.
Why can't these practices change as well?
We found the most progressive education
system in the mountains of India.
They saw my TED Talk and
Harvard lectures and reached out.
They wanted help building a school for orphans.
That's what we're working on now.
The Tezukas' newest project involves rebuilding a residential childcare center in India.
This is their third visit.
The location is some 500 kilometers from the nearest city.
It's a grueling 14-hour drive over rough roads.
Tezuka-san, welcome back !
Long journey Good to see you.
Despite a late arrival, the children come out to welcome them.
The Jhamtse Gatsal Children's Community stands on a Himalayan ridge 2,000 meters above sea level.
The name means 'Garden of Love and Compassion' in Tibetan.
Situated in an impoverished and underdeveloped region, around 130 vulnerable children are cared for at the center.
They all seem very happy there.
They come from really tough places.
Some are escaping domestic violence.
Others were found starving or barely
survived birth from their dying mother.
The former monk who started the center
found them and is raising them.
The attached school offers classes from kindergarten through to high school.
A key characteristic is that the children take classes sitting in a circle with their teacher.
The whole system is based
around the idea of sharing.
They share what they learn.
Learning is for helping others.
There are three stages to learning.
First, plant a seed.
They're asked, 'Is the sky green?'
No blackboard or notebooks.
The next step is digestion.
The kids open up notebooks and
textbooks, and study on their own.
The third step is vital. Sharing.
They share what they've learned with
one another. Knowledge into wisdom.
It's now the top school in the area.
And it's a populous region!
95% of the kids go to college.
The average across India is about 20%.
Academic competition is fierce!
In Japan, 60% of kids go to college.
From orphanages, it's only 18%.
A complete reversal. It's amazing.
The school really values interdependence.
Relying on one another.
The older kids look after the little
ones. They all care for one another.
When I saw that, I thought,
this tiny rural school is the future.
The classrooms will be different, too.
They'll be shared, so no squares!
We drew lines on the ground and
had them take classes inside them.
People gather in circles. They
make smaller circles when sharing.
That's the shape a school should be.
That's what true education looks like.
Social issues, education, architecture.
All of it is connected.
The Tezukas were deeply moved by the idea that sharing learning leads to wisdom.
Takaharu returned to Japan and shared the idea with his students for feedback.
It could mean new shapes for future schools.
- It's deeply rooted in who we are.
- I agree.
Not just building a school but
designing a society, an environment.
We're learning so much from it.
They're all such good kids!
They say good morning to us as we walk
around, eager to chat and hug us.
It's testament to what we can do
when we all value one another.
That's wonderful.
There's a lot of discussion about
education. But not about society.
But that school could change society.
A shared education without walls.
If we could share that vision around the world, perhaps we could transform society for the better.