abroadinjapan
patreon
Why I Really Quit My Teaching Job in Japan 10 Years Ago Today
🕑 Added 2025-07-27 14:34:29 +0000 UTCThis morning, the above photo randomly popped up on my laptop. One of those unsolicited "memory" photos designed to briefly jolt you into nostalgia before you go back to eating cheese over the sink.
But this one was worth pausing for. It was from July 2015, the day I finished my job as an English teacher in rural Japan, after three surreal, sometimes sublime, often confusing years. It also happened to involve one of the most absurd moments of my entire life.
I’d been teaching at the biggest senior high school in northern Japan. I look back on that chapter of my life with real fondness, even if the idea of returning to a classroom now fills me with a vague sense of dread.
The students were brilliant. Polite, funny, curious. Many would light up when I walked into the classroom, mostly because it meant a break from the daily drudgery of actual English lessons. I was the walking, talking human equivalent of a snow day. If students started to look bored, I’d joke about and spontaneously start beatboxing, which certainly changed the mood rather dramatically.
To my relief, I also managed to avoid any outright hostility from the Japanese teachers, which isn’t something every JET participant can say. A few friends had horror stories of colleagues who treated them with the same warmth you’d show a wasp at a picnic.
I was objectively rubbish in year one. I had no idea what I was doing, and I tried to win favour with students by showering them with sweets I’d bought at Seven Eleven. I felt sheepish walking down the corridor, more akin to a shadow than a person. But by the second year I’d hit my stride. I’d learned the ropes, ran classes on my own and gave a confident nod to students and teachers alike while strolling between classrooms.
By the third year, I’d hit a wall. I’d stood in front of a blackboard for over 2,000 classroom hours and started to resemble a man slowly fossilising into chalk dust.
And so, I decided not to renew my contract for a fourth, when my supervisor approached me at my desk one weekday afternoon. We had a fantastic relationship and he was disappointed and saddened to hear I’d be leaving.
The Abroad in Japan YouTube channel was starting to gain momentum and it was essentially my dream career. Leaving became a lot easier knowing I had something creative waiting in the wings. Honestly, if YouTube hadn’t been on the table, I might have stayed. I loved Sakata, even though in the last year of my job I’d started to feel like a bird in a cage most days. I remember in the closing months, increasingly spending more of my time staring out the classroom window, daydreaming of being anywhere else.
Being an English teacher in Japan rarely allowed space for initiative or creativity. I’d got students doing fun things like making their own magazines and scripting / shooting a video, but it often felt like I was having little tangible impact. Especially when online, the Youtube videos were engaging thousands of people at a time.
Natsuki, bless him, did his best to help me stay. He even half-joked about me joining his hair salon’s staff, though I suspect the clients might have had concerns about a random British man with questionable Japanese coming at them with scissors.
One of the bittersweet truths about the JET Programme is how it drops people from all over the world into the deepest corners of Japan. Mountaintops in Hokkaido, obscure islands off Okinawa, entire towns you couldn’t find on a map with a microscope. Then, just as they begin to build real connections, they’re shipped out again like diplomats at the end of a tour. Unless you marry a local or find an elusive job, your time is up. No safety net. No "next step." Just a gentle nudge out the door.
Still, when it’s time to move on in your life and career, you feel it in your bones. I felt it then, just as I’ve felt it more recently, as I’ve sought to shift to larger scale video projects.
And so, on a sweltering day in July, when Japan felt about two inches from the sun, I was asked to give my final farewell speech. In Japanese. In front of 1,200 students and 120 staff. In a gymnasium that sat at the literal gates of hell. It was 38 degrees outside, 45 inside. There were two electric fans, neither of which seemed to have a discernible effect.
As I began to speak, students started fainting. Literally fainting. Not because of my mumbling, shite Japanese, but because of the sheer heat. Carried out on stretchers like casualties from a heatstroke battlefield.
I’ve never delivered a speech where the audience collapsed one by one like dominoes. I got to do a TED talk two years later, and it wasn’t anywhere near as theatrical.
Every time a student was carried out on a stretch - and to be clear there were at least half a dozen - a few folks looked up for a passing moment and watched the spectacle before returning to their drooped down positions.
At first, when my speech kicked off, the students were curious. “Ooh, he’s speaking Japanese!” By minute five, curiosity had turned to glazed stares. By minute ten, full-blown sleep. A few teachers gave polite smiles. One openly laughed at a joke. Another kept checking his watch, probably timing his escape to the smoking area behind the gym.
My supervisor fired off a photo (as seen above) in the latter minutes of the speech. I look like some totalitarian dictator droning on about how our great leap forward will reduce wheat prices.
Somewhere in that sweaty chaos, I caught sight of a student I’d been tutoring for a speech contest. Her expression got me. The kind of look that said, “Please don’t go.” It hit me in the gut. I wouldn't be there to see her speech that we’d prepped for all month. I’d be long gone.
After fifteen minutes, and a new personal record for dehydration, I wrapped it up, said my thank yous, gave a deep bow and was rewarded with applause and a sense of overwhelming relief.
At 3:30pm, I was called into the principal’s office. The same room where I’d first sat, jet-lagged and overwhelmed, three years earlier. We talked briefly. I told him I’d head home to England, then hopefully move to Sendai. He nodded, with a confused expression when I mentioned “Youtube”, then we shook hands, and that was that.
At the entrance, the staff gathered to see me off. My favourite colleague, Chounan-sensei, the hilarious chap from the swearing video and the Marmite video, helped carry my things to the car. He gave me a proper hug. It was hard not to burst into tears.
And then I was off, rumbling out of the car park in my rickety Toyota Starlet, waving out the window, wondering if I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life.
I still visit Sakata a few times a year. But I’ve never gone back to my old school. Maybe one day I will. I’ve bumped into a few of the teachers at events over the years, and it’s always a joy to see them again. But stepping through those school gates would probably hit a bit too hard. Not only that, but the students I knew will have dispersed across the country. Teachers I worked with will have retired or been reallocated.
The older you get, the more you start to realise that time is its own kind of place. You can go back to the same building or street, but if the people you shared it with aren’t there, it just feels... off. Like returning to a party long after everyone’s gone home.
I wonder what became of the students I taught. Their ages will range from 28 to 31 years old. It’s a crazy thought to think many are older than Connor. My god.
It’s strange, really. I spent my whole childhood dreaming of escaping the classroom, of seeing the world and chasing adventure. And when I finally got there, it led me straight back to a classroom, just on the other side of the planet.
Still, I wouldn’t change that decision for anything. Those three years, locked away in the snow-covered corner of Yamagata, surrounded by students and Sea of Japan sunsets and far too many school lunches, were some of the best of my life. The memories live on in old Facebook albums, early Abroad in Japan videos, and more recently, the book. But the best parts are locked away in my head. And I revisit them far more often than I’d care to admit.
Comments
John
Yikes 45 degrees! My worst heat experience was in a church during a wedding in a building that was about 39 degree. I just wanted the bride and groom to say I do so we could finish and get back outside where it was still hot but not as hot as in a building that was basically a holy oven. I am glad you had your time as English teacher I am sure it helped shape and grow you as a person, but I am especially glad youtube has worked out so well for you.
Roar G
Chris I can't really put into words how this text hit me, a mix of nostalgia and a realization of all that I've experienced myself and through you over I believe 10 years (+) as a viewer and a subscriber. I rarely write comments, think I've been a Patreon member soon 5 years as well without leaving anything to say thank you by, but fuck it, here we go! So this is for you Chris, and anyone else with a few too many minutes to spare, I really appreciate ya all! (I've spent 60 minutes shortening this god damn comment to no avail, good luck, stay safe!) Chris, your videos have been with me through thick and thin, literally. I went from being severely overweight to now living a much healthier lifestyle. And that is in no small part thanks to you and your videos! (The boxing era was especially intriguing!) It's hard to describe how it has been to experience someone in my age group with more or less the same background carry on this lovely journey I once hoped to reach myself. I've moved cities, started new trades, tried youtube and the like, but that's not the important part. While I was learning a new trade in IT after my media days sorta lost its way (as I am sure you know, media not being the most "secure" profession out there). IT helped me get out there again! I've since then moved back to my hometown and been a teacher the last 6 ish years in a field I love, Media and IT! But it has been a weird mix of the same feelings you described in your comment here, but I feel lucky and have figured out what I want and it is to continue as a teacher in this field (finally? at the ripe old age of 35.. well well, never too late). But let me rewind a bit and add some context: When I was learning IT in the new city, I was still looking to scratch an itch of sorts, so I started watching your videos more "in depth" and felt a need to explore even more and not just a new city in my own country and since I've always loved the rich history of Japan and well some anime over my years, I just had to go. So when I had watched just enough videos of yours and practiced juuust enough Japanese to actually dare go for a visit, me and a buddy not only once, but twice went over there, we started out with Tokyo as one do, wanted to start "small..." but realized Tokyo was way bigger than we had anticipated, so went there again in 2019 with more buddies! But I wanted more and sadly covid hit, and it hit hard. I've since not been able to come back, but your videos have kept me afloat along side other creators that have since come, love me some weird Welsh language from time to time. Sorry for rambling on, I just want to quote you, since I feel this is important: "when it’s time to move on in your life and career, you feel it in your bones." That is a quote you should take with you, I know I will, there is a sort of pain I can't really describe, but your quote is on point. I'll end it with this: Your videos, your style, and the way you've progressed over the years have been an journey that have shaped my life in more ways than I thought was possible from a total stranger making youtubes from the other side of the world, thank you for being you, sticking with it and for whatever comes next, I'll be here for it, consider my patreonship upgraded, I don't want to miss out of any goodies and you've deserved everything, thank you so much. Best regards from a fellow Brown Cheese lover in Norway (that took me by surprise, love it!) - RoarG/Rurifax. Actually let me quote you again, damnit: "The older you get, the more you start to realise that time is its own kind of place." This particular line, describes a feeling that hit me watching your latest video about a day in your life in Tokyo (in Summer) and then coming here reading this text, take this one with you as well, you carry on my youtuber from across the world, even if we're strangers it doesn't really feel like it, gotta love the internet for these opportunities. Cheers again!
VanillaCoke1956 .
Fantastic reflection on a time that impacted your life and changed it forever. I only spent one year in Japan on a working holiday back when the borders were still closed and despite it not being that long, not a day goes by where I don't think about some memory from that time. Be it buying cream to alleviate the itchiness of mosquito bites, eating CoCo ichi seven days in a row, spending every evening for a week in an anime bar in Sapporo or sitting my sore butt down on the train from Imabari to Matsuyama after cycling the Shimanami Kaido, thinking to myself "Damn, I really did quit my job to go for this." - it gets harder to not daydream about them. I really get the part about time being its own place. I've returned to many places from back then. Some don't exist anymore, others have different people working or living there... it's not the same.
