With its multistoried redbrick edifice, slanting black-tiled roof, and tall windows, Tai­pei’s Jian­cheng Junior High School, which opened in 1968, exudes dignified quaintness.

Time really seems to flow in reverse in the school’s little museum. Large black-and-white photos show students cavorting and frolicking on the school field or assiduously practicing kendo (Japanese-style fencing) or baseball. And of course there are the obligatory pictures capturing the poignancy of graduation. In a cabinet is an assortment of memorabilia: an ancient camera, a notebook for communication between teacher and parents, a khaki uniform, a blue skirt, and finally an alumni association registration book containing one Japanese signature after another.

All these relics were gifts from alumni who attended Jian­­cheng Elementary School when Taiwan was under Japanese rule. Until 2010 these former students, now between 70 and 90 years old, continued to organize trips back to visit their school, and even awarded scholarships to assist current students.

That Jian­­cheng Junior High has been able to maintain so strong a spiritual connection to its predecessor, Jian­cheng Elementary, which closed in 1946, has its genesis in an international alumni event held 11 years ago.

Established under Japanese rule, Jiancheng Elementary was a school that, save for a handful of elite Taiwanese, accepted only Japanese children.

Established in 1920 in Onari-cho (now Da­tong District), Jian­cheng was one of eight schools in Tai­pei originally founded for ethnic Japanese children. It had a reputation as a “school for aristocrats,” and aside from the offspring of wealthy or socially prominent families, or children with outstanding grades, it was essentially impossible for Taiwanese to attend.

The school grew to have a student body of 1800, and graduated a total of 24 classes. When World War II ended, all the Japanese students were repatriated and the school was closed. The empty building was then used to house the Taipei City Government.

When the city government abandoned the site on moving to the new City Hall in ­Xinyi District in 1994, the building then housing Jian­cheng Junior High, located on Hua­yin St., had been slated for demolition to make way for the new Tai­pei Bus Station, and the recently vacated elementary school seemed a logical place to relocate to. The following year, however, the city government decided instead to shut down Jian­cheng Junior High and raze the old Japanese school. But in the face of heated protest and petitions from the students and faculty of the junior high, the old campus was ultimately saved.

Here the story takes on a fascinating wrinkle. News of the struggle to preserve the school reached the ears of the Japanese alumni. One such individual, Shi­geru O­kabe, in ­Gunma Prefecture, Japan, a member of the ninth graduating class, responded by creating an alumni association whose first order of business was to reach out to the school’s ethnic Taiwanese graduates and draft a letter remonstrating with the Tai­pei City Government. They also lobbied then Tai­pei mayoral candidate Chen Shui-bian. Thanks to their persistence, the school was spared from the wrecking ball and designated a historical site, and Jian­cheng Junior High had the new home it needed.

Led by Shigeru Okabe, the Jiancheng Elementary Alumni Association vowed to make a pilgrimage back to their alma mater once every three years. In 2004 more than 100 former students happily made the trip.

Early in 2001, not long after Jian­cheng Junior High had taken up residence at the old campus, the Tai­pei branch of the Jian­cheng Elementary Alumni Association called with a request: might the school be willing to receive a group of elderly Japanese former students? Math teacher Feng Pin­zheng, at that time chair of the school activities committee, listened to septuagenarian Lin Daohuan, the branch chairman, describe his Japanese classmates’ fervent anticipation. “It sounded to me like elderly people pining for a cherished homeland. I was amazed at the profundity of their attachment. It made me think: isn’t it the province of education to help us to feel such sentiments?”

Feng came away deeply moved. He formed a committee of around 10 fellow instructors and within 10 days they had mobilized the entire student body and faculty. In class, students explored the building’s history. Instructors that were familiar with the Japanese language taught the children a few basic greetings. They applied a number of creative touches to ensure the guests would feel duly honored.

When the day arrived, the entire school, students and staff alike, waited at the school gates to welcome the visitors. They were astonished to see how many people attended—nearly 300 in all. The fresh-faced children cheerfully greeted the guests in Japanese: “Good morning! Welcome back!” And the visitors, some trudging forward with canes and others in wheelchairs pushed by relatives, burst into irrepressible smiles and laughs, the joy clearly written on each wizened visage.

The grand main building that the students used to pass through on their way to and from classes is a designated historic site and has been repurposed into the Museum of Contemporary Art.

As the old alumni made their way toward the school auditorium they filed past a “nostalgia corridor” whose walls were covered with old pictures, stopping now and again to examine them. Once seated in the hall, they looked up to see the stage decorated exactly as it had been years ago, right down to the Chinese characters hanging overhead admonishing students to “be filial and loyal.” After some introductory remarks from both the school and the alumni association, a pair of diminutive students, a boy and a girl dressed in school uniforms dating back to the Japanese era, appeared and with a respectful bow and greeting, offered the distinguished guests a book in which to sign as a remembrance of the occasion. “Then the most touching moment arrived when the loudspeakers began to play the familiar graduation melody. There wasn’t a dry eye in the place. Magnesium flash bulbs were going off everywhere—it was as though they were to trying to freeze the moment in time,” recalls Feng, the event’s architect, fighting to hold back tears.

“They must have been deeply moved because before long the visitors began mailing a number of precious souvenirs from that time to the school, entrusting them to us as though we were their relations,” says Feng. Even more surprising was that the alumni association donated NT$1 million to the school to be awarded to outstanding students in need of financial assistance.

From then on the association began visiting once every three years to personally award the scholarship money as well as to revisit their old home and go sightseeing.

National Taiwan University assistant professor of history Yen Hsin-ju explains that second-generation Japanese who were born or grew up in Taiwan often had an idyllic childhood, and Taiwan’s land and culture found a permanent place in their hearts. Moreover, many of them felt a sense of estrangement and faced a difficult adjustment when they returned to Japan after the war. They were often ostracized on account of differences in speech and lifestyle acquired from years of living outside Japan, and that experience both exacerbated their alienation and increased their yearning for their untroubled youth.

With the development of Taiwan’s tourism industry in the 1980s, Japanese former residents began organizing trips with old classmates. “So long as they had the strength of body, they wanted to come back to Taiwan to reminisce together, visit the old places, investigate their history, and more generally to reacquaint themselves with Taiwan and rekindle their affection for the land of their birth and childhood, if not the land of their forebears,” says Yen. “Many even root for Taiwan in sporting events!”

Without a doubt, this has been the case with Jian­cheng Elementary.

In May of 2007, 90-year-old Shi­geru O­kabe made his fourth trip back to Taiwan, this time leading a group of graduates of Tai­pei First and Second Girls High Schools. Feeling in his heart that this could easily be the last such journey, in his speech he said, “I hope the spirit of friendship can be bequeathed to the next generation. Even when the last of the alumni are gone, I hope our sons and daughters will continue to care for our school.”

Three years later, the old man returned, albeit in a wheelchair and with the assistance of his granddaughter, but for no less a reason than to personally accept a plaque from the ROC Tourism Bureau applauding his promotion of friendship between Taiwan and Japan.