“Why did you decide to teach Japanese?”
I hear this question from students all the time. But after more than ten years of teaching, I’ve realized the answer is not just about how I became a Japanese teacher. It’s about what I learned from the people who chose to learn with me.
The biggest challenge was never teaching Japanese itself. It was understanding the person trying to learn it.
Quick answer: I’m Haruka, a Japanese teacher in Vancouver with over 10 years of experience. I teach students of all ages, in person and online, from Vancouver to the US and beyond. My method centers on shadowing, paired with weekly, motivation-first coaching. The goal is real speaking ability, not just a passing JLPT score. Everything on this blog comes from real classroom experience, not recycled study tips.
I actually didn’t want to teach Japanese
Here’s the twist most people don’t expect. For most of high school and university, teaching Japanese was the last thing I wanted to do.
It wasn’t that I didn’t value my own language, I did. What I actually wanted was to work with children in Japan, especially in elementary or junior high school, and be part of their growth as people, not just their grasp of a subject. There was something powerful about helping young people discover who they were and how they saw the world. Teaching Japanese itself just wasn’t the picture I had in mind.
Instead, I found myself drawn to English. I’d spent years fighting for it — struggling with it, obsessing over it, eventually falling in love with it. I pictured a future built around that instead: teaching English, creating real experiences for students, in a language that had once been my own biggest challenge.
So instead of rushing into a path I wasn’t fully sure about, I took two years off university to figure out who I actually was.
Year one: Japan, by bicycle and thumb
I spent the first year traveling through Japan by bicycle and by hitchhiking, staying each night with someone I had met that very day. I never knew where I would sleep until the day unfolded in front of me.
Along the way, I sat down with close to a thousand people, from wealthy business owners to homeless people, from students and farmers to people living on the margins of society. I even met people whose lives were completely different from anything I had ever known.
I began to realize that everyone carries a completely different story, and the same experience can mean something completely different depending on who is living it.
It sounds simple, but it rewired something in me. I started seeing my own country, and my own language, through completely new eyes.
Year two: the whole world, in thirty-some countries
The second year, that same restlessness pulled me further. I visited nearly 30 countries in twelve months. Travel didn’t get it out of my system, it did the opposite. I came back only more certain I wasn’t done seeing the world. So I kept going. I picked up NGO and NPO work in different countries, living inside places instead of just passing through them.
Somewhere in the middle of all that, I noticed something I couldn’t stop noticing. An enormous number of people outside Japan were completely fascinated by it, not just the food or the anime, but the language itself. Watching my own language through their eyes, I fell back in love with how strange, layered, and genuinely fun Japanese is to learn.
How I became a Japanese teacher in Vancouver
Then I landed in Vancouver, and something started to click.
After spending years meeting people from all walks of life, in Japan and beyond, I had started thinking deeply about what kind of life I wanted to build, and what kind of people I wanted to surround myself with.
I realized I wanted to spend my life around people who were driven by curiosity. People who chased the things they loved, who were willing to dive deeply into something simply because it fascinated them.
Then I met people in Vancouver who were obsessed with Japanese for all the right reasons, curious, funny, and a little relentless about learning more. I remember the exact thought that crossed my mind:
These are exactly the kind of people I want to spend my life around.
That was the turning point.
I started working at a few Japanese language schools around Vancouver and picked up private tutoring on the side. But I wasn’t just teaching Japanese, I was beginning to build something I had been thinking about for years.
Everything I had experienced up to that point, the people I had met, the stories I had heard, and the different ways I had seen people live, shaped my vision of what language education could be.
I wanted to create a place where learning Japanese was more than memorizing words and grammar. A place where curiosity was encouraged, where people could connect through language, and where students could discover a deeper understanding of Japan and themselves.
Those early years became the foundation for everything NihongoKnow is today.
What years of teaching actually taught me
Here’s a pattern I saw again and again, across hundreds of students.
Almost everyone showed up with their own personal way of studying. And almost all of them hit the exact same wall: they weren’t becoming able to speak.
They had collected vocabulary lists, completed textbooks, watched videos, and spent hours studying. But somewhere along the way, the connection between “studying Japanese” and “actually using Japanese with another person” had been lost.
I started to realize that the biggest challenge wasn’t a lack of intelligence or effort. Most students were working incredibly hard. The problem was that many had never been shown how to build a relationship with a language, how to stay curious, how to experiment, how to notice progress, and how to keep going when improvement became less visible.
I noticed a pattern among many of my North American students. In much of Asia, some form of intensive, structured studying gets built in early, whether students enjoy it or not, and it often leaves people with some kind of study habit for life.
Many adults I met in North America reach my classroom having never really learned how to study a language at all, let alone how to tell if their chosen method is actually working. They are often motivated, curious, and excited — but they don’t always have a path that turns that motivation into progress.
That gap became something I wanted to solve.
At the language schools, I built classrooms designed for kids to take ownership of their own learning, visual aids, retention-focused games, real conversations, and activities built around connection rather than drills.
I didn’t want students to simply answer correctly on a worksheet. I wanted them to experience the feeling of using Japanese to connect with another person.
In private tutoring, I built every plan around the individual in front of me: their age, their goals, whether they’d learned another language before, their native language, their background, even their daily habits and energy levels.
Because my years of traveling had taught me something important: there is no single “right” way to live, and there is no single “right” way to learn. Every person carries their own story, and education works best when it begins by understanding that story.
One thing stood out above everything else, every time: students with real, internal motivation improved fastest, regardless of natural talent or background.
Motivation is a steady fire, not a sudden blaze.
A huge flame can look impressive, but it can also disappear quickly if it isn’t carefully tended.
What matters is building a fire that lasts, one that someone can keep tending day after day, year after year.
Almost every student walks in the door motivated. The real challenge is protecting that fire and helping it grow into something sustainable.
That belief became the foundation of how I coach.
My goal has never been to create students who can survive a textbook or pass a test. It’s to help people build a relationship with Japanese that lasts.
These days, it’s completely normal for my students to stay with me for three or four years, sometimes even longer. Japanese stops being a task stacked on top of someone’s life. It quietly becomes part of who they are.
Why shadowing became the foundation of how I teach
Shadowing is one of the biggest reasons I speak fluent English today.
In high school, I was, without exaggeration, one of the worst English speakers in my class. Other students could put sentences together and have simple conversations. I couldn’t. I knew grammar. I knew vocabulary. But when I opened my mouth, nothing came out.
Around that time, one of my teachers introduced me to shadowing, repeating English audio out loud, over and over. So I started doing it.
But for a long time, I honestly wondered if it was working.
I was practicing every day, but I still couldn’t speak naturally. Looking back, I understand why: I was training my ears, my pronunciation, and my ability to produce English sounds, but I had almost no opportunities to actually use English with another person.
I was building the foundation, but I wasn’t getting the chance to stand on it yet.
Then I entered university and eventually studied abroad. For the first time, I was surrounded by English every day. I had no choice but to speak.
And that’s when I realized something.
The shadowing I had done for years had been preparing me all along.
While many other students were still trying to translate every sentence from Japanese into English, I already had a library of sounds, phrases, and rhythms stored in my mind. Expressions started coming out naturally. My mouth could keep up with my thoughts.
Shadowing hadn’t magically made me fluent. It had built the foundation that allowed me to become fluent once I finally had the environment to use English.
I see the same thing in my students today.
Students who consistently shadow don’t just improve their pronunciation. They build the automaticity needed for real conversation. Then, when they get opportunities to speak, they can actually use what they have trained.
The biggest mistake people make is treating shadowing as the destination. It isn’t.
Shadowing is the training ground. Real conversation is where that training comes alive.
That experience changed the way I see language learning. People don’t fail because they lack motivation. Often, they simply haven’t been given the right combination of training and opportunity.
That combination, the right training and the right opportunities to use it, is what turns knowledge into communication.
If you want to try this method yourself, I’ve broken down exactly how I practice and teach it step by step in The Shadowing Technique for Japanese Learners.
The mistakes I made early on
I’ll be honest about this part, because it matters.
Early in my tutoring career, I wanted to create the kind of learning environment I had always believed in: a truly student-centered classroom. I wanted students to feel heard, respected, and involved in their own learning. So I listened carefully to their requests and tried to adapt everything around what they wanted.
But over time, I started noticing something.
Being student-centered doesn’t mean giving students everything they ask for. Sometimes, what students want in the moment and what they need to actually improve are two different things.
Some students told me they wanted to speak Japanese, but when given complete freedom, they naturally leaned toward grammar explanations and vocabulary study because those felt comfortable and measurable. They were gaining knowledge, but they weren’t building the confidence and ability to actually communicate.
Other students wanted lessons with no fixed schedule. I understood why, life gets busy, and flexibility matters. But without a consistent rhythm, it became much harder to build momentum. Students would make progress, pause for weeks, and then have to rebuild what they had already started.
Eventually, I realized that my role as a teacher wasn’t just to follow students’ preferences. It was to understand their goals and help guide them toward the path that would actually get them there.
That shift changed the way I teach.
I still believe deeply in student-centered education. Every student is different, and their goals, backgrounds, and interests should shape the learning process.
But within that flexibility, there needs to be structure.
That’s exactly why I now hold firmly to a once-a-week rhythm, with one clear, concrete goal for each week. It gives students something real to aim for while still leaving room, inside that structure, to explore whatever they are genuinely curious about.
The structure isn’t there to control the student. It’s there to support them.
Think of it as a framework, not a cage.
From Vancouver classrooms to students around the world
I’d already started experimenting with online lessons in small ways before the pandemic. COVID accelerated that transition almost overnight, but what surprised me most was what happened next.
The community began to grow almost entirely through word of mouth.
Students who had studied with me started introducing their friends, family members, and colleagues. One connection led to another, and slowly, something I had built one relationship at a time began reaching people far beyond where I was.
These days, I hear from students not just around Vancouver, but across the US and increasingly from other countries too. People from completely different backgrounds and walks of life are finding their way here because someone they trusted shared their own experience.
That means more to me than any advertisement ever could.
Because from the beginning, my goal was never just to teach Japanese. I wanted to create a place where people felt connected — where curiosity was encouraged, where students could enjoy the process, and where learning Japanese could become a meaningful part of their lives.
Whether we sit in the same room or talk through a screen, I care most about one thing: our one hour a week together should never shrink down to just “student and teacher.”
I’m genuinely grateful for every person Japanese has brought into my life. Every student has their own story, their own reason for learning, and their own journey.
For as long as I’m teaching, I hope our time studying together adds a little more light to each person’s week, not just a little more vocabulary.
I’ve now been teaching Japanese for over ten years.
Why NihongoKnow’s blog looks the way it does
Nothing on this blog is information copied and rearranged from somewhere else.
Every article comes from something I’ve actually seen happen in a real classroom, with a real student — usually many times over the years. Every explanation, every example, and every piece of advice comes from conversations, mistakes, breakthroughs, and moments of discovery that I’ve shared with learners.
My materials are built the same way.
They are designed to give students a clear direction each week, so they never have to wonder, “Am I studying the right thing?” or “Am I actually improving?” Instead, they can focus on taking one small, meaningful step at a time.
Instead, they can focus on taking one small, meaningful step at a time.
And nothing here is ever truly finished.
Languages are constantly changing, and so are learners. I continue updating my materials based on what current students show me — what helps them understand faster, what keeps them motivated, and what helps them finally make the jump from studying Japanese to actually using it.
Because the goal was never just passing the JLPT.
A test score can show that you know something about Japanese. But if you freeze when someone speaks to you, or you can’t express your own thoughts, then something important is still missing.
Because the goal was never just passing the [JLPT](How Many Months Do You Need to Pass the JLPT? Study Time Guidelines by Level).
(If you’re curious how many study hours that actually takes by level, I break it down in my JLPT Study Time Guide.)
A test score can show that you know something about Japanese…
The real goal is connection.
If you’re studying Japanese on your own right now and feel like you’ve hit a wall, or you’re just getting started and aren’t sure where to begin, take a look around the blog first.
And if you feel like you’ve reached the point where studying alone isn’t enough anymore, I’d be happy to help you find your next step.
Learning Japanese is not just about adding another skill to your life. It’s about building a new way to connect with people and the world.
Let’s figure it out together.
