The Fear of Ikebana Teaching—And Why I Did It Anyway #4

There’s a certain irony in the way life nudges you toward things you once ran away from. For instance, I never set out to teach ikebana. In fact, I quite firmly decided that teaching was not for me.

Why do I share my story? Every ikebana journey is different, but they all share a common thread—discovery, creativity, and connection. In this series, I share my personal path in ikebana, from my first encounter to the lessons I’ve learned over the years. My hope is to inspire you to explore your own ikebana story and, if you're a teacher, to share yours with your students. Ikebana grows when we share it—let’s grow together. If you missed some episodes, you can discover them on my blog https://www.ikebana.be/blog​

This conviction stemmed from a brief, misguided detour after high school, when I enrolled in college to become a high school teacher. I had visions of shaping young minds, inspiring the next generation, imagining myself with an air of scholarly sophistication.

Then reality struck. It turned out that standing in front of a room full of teenagers was less "Dead Poets Society" and more "survival of the fittest." One year in, I knew: teaching and I were not meant to be. I switched gears and embarked on a degree in landscape architecture instead, feeling rather pleased with myself for avoiding a future of lesson plans and classroom discipline.

Fast-forward a few years. I had moved to Yokohama and found a new ikebana teacher, Joko Crivelli, who remains my teacher to this day. I was progressing steadily, soaking in the beauty of the craft, enjoying the quiet rhythm of arranging stems and branches. Then came the inevitable question:

"So, when will you get your teacher’s certificate?"

Oh no. Not that again.

But I Don’t Want to Teach Ikebana!

You see, I started ikebana purely for the love of it. Teaching had never been on the agenda. The idea of standing in front of a class—even if it wasn’t full of unruly teenagers—still made me hesitate.

• Was I even qualified to teach?

• Could I possibly have enough knowledge to guide others?

• Wouldn’t I need to reach a more advanced level first?

So, I postponed. Delayed. Procrastinated. And yet, somewhere along the way, curiosity got the better of me. I took the plunge and got my teacher’s certificate.

And then something unexpected happened.

Teaching as a Path to Growth

I started small—just a few friends in my living room. In Japan, it’s quite normal for lessons to rotate between students’ homes, so this setup felt natural. I kept expectations low, both for myself and for my students.

And yet, as I fumbled my way through those early lessons, I realized something profound: teaching isn’t just about giving knowledge. It’s about discovering your own path.

• I became aware of my weaknesses—the little gaps in my understanding that I hadn’t noticed before.

• I saw how different people approached ikebana, and how each interpretation added something new.

• I learned that explaining a concept to someone else clarifies it for yourself in a way that personal practice never does.
  

And then, in a twist I hadn’t seen coming, I found myself teaching Western floral arranging to Japanese students and ikebana to foreigners living in Japan. I had become a bridge between two worlds—quite the poetic turn for someone who once swore off teaching entirely.

The Challenges (and the Surprising Perks)

Let’s be honest: teaching isn’t all sudden realizations and personal growth. There were challenges aplenty.

• Finding good materials (cue frantic last-minute runs to the flower market).

• Structuring lessons (because "just winging it" only works for so long).

• Demonstrating techniques clearly without turning into an ikebana robot.

And yet, the rewards made it all worthwhile.

• Teaching forced me to become better—to refine my own skills and push past my limitations.

• It created a network—friends, fellow ikebanists, students who later became colleagues.

• It opened doors—eventually leading me to exhibitions, performances, and art collaborations.

It didn’t make me rich, but it provided something far more valuable: a deeper understanding of ikebana and a way to share its beauty with others while making a sustainable living.

Final Thoughts: If You’re Hesitating, That’s Normal

I know many ikebanists struggle with the idea of teaching. Some don’t feel ready. Others worry they won’t enjoy it. And let’s be clear—not everyone has to teach. The curriculum prepares you for it, but if you’d rather just arrange flowers for yourself, that’s perfectly fine.

But if you do feel the itch, even a little—start small.​

Any place can be a classroom.

Teaching is a skill that grows with practice.​

And who knows? You might just surprise yourself.

Just like I did.