At the Hongo San-Chome subway stop nearest to Tokyo University--often called Todai--the arrow says "To Tokyo University." But then the university just disappears: The school has many gates, but its name isn't on them. But it is Japan's leading educational institution, owing to its history and traditions.

Since its founding in 1877, Todai has not lost its character of being the center for "official training." One gets a sense of the important status of Todai from the system of student recruitment--top students chosen by local government--in the Meiji era, from the use of its top literature graduates in the highest levels of government in the Imperial era, and from the fact that 80 or 90 percent of Japan's prime ministers (including Nakasone, Sato, and Fukuda) are from Todai.

Todai grads also shine in business. There is a saying for hopeful brides: "It doesn't matter if he's ugly as long as he graduated from Todai." And it's no joke. Statistics reveal that there are 5,300 directors from Todai in the business community today.

But Todai wasn't just established as a status factory. In 1893, the former prime minister, K. Inoue, stated that "Todai must be the leader in scholarship." This idea is deeply planted in the hearts of school administrators and educators, who believe it their duty to carry on this tradition. Acceptance standards are extremely rigorous. The motto is: "Better to not accept than to accept too many." Only 3,000 of the 800,000 who shoot for Todai in the entrance exams get in. That's 3.75%.

The same goes for foreign students. Altogether, there are currently 1,050 foreign students from 60 nations at Todai.

For those who "dare" to attend Todai, confidence is required. Many from Taiwan work hard on the language to have a firm base. Lin Chih-hsien, for example, watched two or three hundred videos and studied Japanese every day after work. It paid off when he got to Japan and had no trouble asking directions, looking for a place to live, or conversing.

Thirty-five-year-old Antonio I. C. Hong is another example. He gave up a good job as general manager of the foreign department of a trading company to pursue his dream. In his first year, besides work and sleep, he did nothing but study, reading his texts three times before exams. This made the exams only a matter of getting the language right.

But things aren't always so smooth.

Liao Fang-pin, now a sophomore in the Educational Administration Department, found her admissions process very nervewracking. Looking back, Liao thinks one of the reasons was the system--only later did she discover that her department accepted only one foreign student a year. Another reason is that Japan is very strict about who gets an advanced degree in the humanities.

Liao understands that the view of sciences differs from that of the humanities. For the former, it is enough to be able to do research or formulate theory independently. The latter are expected to make great contributions to mankind or to the universe. In its 110 year history, the humanities fields--with the exception of law's 130--have graduated few Ph.D.s: 30, 26, 42, and 23 in literature, education, economics, and sociology, respectively.

Three years ago, Tsai Chung-han, now a member of the Legislative Yuan, became Todai's 17th sociology Ph.D. Tsai graduated in Russian from National Chengchi University on Taiwan.

He pointed out that since he had the credentials of a Russian specialist, his professors at Todai thought he could read Russian without any problem. But he knew that "I only saw my Russian in class; after class I just packed it away," as he put it. But he had to come up with a way to meet his teachers' demands, so he organized a study circle to read Russian together, relying on the strength of the group to complete assignments.

These study circles are very popular at Todai. Besides being forums for discussion, they serve as transmitters of scholarship, bringing together young and senior scholars.

The Japanese scholarly community puts great emphasis on basic research.

A clue can be discerned from the curriculum. Humanities has not only Japanese, Chinese, Western Classical, English, German, and French language and literature, but is further subdivided into linguistic history, literature, literary history, and even sub-sub-divided chronologically. "It's common to have one or two students and eight or nine professors," says student Guo Miin-fang.

The professors in turn demand well-honed basic skills. To study Indian philosophy like Guo Miin-fang requires first-hand knowledge of six languages. Tsai Chung-han points out that the style of the Japanese professors is to look first at the references in a thesis; if something isn't there they think should be, they think you have a gap. They even consider punctuation: if that isn't done right, the thesis likely isn't done right either.

The dedication of the Japanese to research leaves their overseas students speechless. A first year Ph.D. student studying engineering says that the scholars bury themselves in research and writing, bringing the competitiveness of Japanese society to the academic world.

But foreigners are, after all, foreign, and there can be cultural problems. Thesis writing like "that's just the way it is" can be changed to "it is possible that's the way it is" or "I think that's the way it is." Japanese professors believe such terminology is more "objective" and less presumptuous. And after class or lab, professors may expect the students to participate in informal discussions over food and drink which can last all night. These can be as often as daily events, leaving one without personal time.

And the subtleties and implied meanings which are part of Japanese culture can create headaches. The best example is exams.

Japanese culture includes "massage" --a kind of prefatory harmonization. One self-described "introverted" student complained "Sometimes you get uptight because relations with the teacher can be more important than the pursuit of scholarship."

Many at Todai consider exams a formality. Most important is the impression left on the professor, and interpersonal relations within the group. Lin Chih-hsien argues that the Japanese believe those who cannot have good interpersonal relations are somehow not up to snuff. That's true to a point, but as far as foreigners are concerned, what are the standards? It takes a lot of adapting to rituals and unwritten rules.

Despite these problems, most believe coming to Todai was absolutely correct. As one student concluded, "With so many dedicated professors and hard-working classmates, is it possible that it not be enriching?"

[Picture Caption]

Poplar-lined streets have a great scent and ambience, leaving a hard-to-forget impression on those who go to Todai. (photo by Chen Wu-yu)

Yasuda Hall is the spiritual symbol of the university; its facade still bears the scars of an explosion from the 1960's student movement. (photo by Vincent Chang)

Todai has always been a gateway to success. Its profound historical significance makes the school gate a valuable cultural relic in itself.

The hundred-year-old campus is filled with the traces of history: this is the entrance to a Kendo hall.

Students from the ROC get an "evidential photo" in front of the library.

The campus was originally the home of nobility in the Edo era (1603-1867). In this photo you can get a feel for the special character of Japanese architecture. (photo by Chen Wu-yu)

The College of Industry of the "Imperial University" era. (photo from On e Hundred years of Tokyo University)

The gate facing the Ueno district is heavy both literally and figurative ly, rich with the meaning of the past.

Less than ten minutes from Tokyo University is the center of bookshops i n Kanda, where one often finds Todai students lurking about. (photo by Chen Wu-yu)

Yasuda Hall is the spiritual symbol of the university; its facade still bears the scars of an explosion from the 1960's student movement. （photo by Vincent Chang）

The hundred-year-old campus is filled with the traces of history: this is the entrance to a Kendo hall.

Todai has always been a gateway to success. Its profound historical significance makes the school gate a valuable cultural relic in itself.

Students from the ROC get an "evidential photo" in front of the library.

The College of Industry of the "Imperial University" era. （photo from On e Hundred years of Tokyo University）

The gate facing the Ueno district is heavy both literally and figurative ly, rich with the meaning of the past.

Less than ten minutes from Tokyo University is the center of bookshops i n Kanda, where one often finds Todai students lurking about. （photo by Chen Wu-yu）