When It’s Time to Leave a Job You Love

Working with children has to be one of the best jobs in the world.

I’ve had that privilege for most of my working life. For fifteen years I was a primary school teacher, followed by five years working in schools for a music service. There is something wonderful about watching a child discover that they can do something today that they couldn’t do yesterday.

Then, unexpectedly, I was made redundant.

I found myself wondering, What now?

I knew two people who ran their own Kumon centres, teaching Maths and English after school. They loved what they did, particularly the satisfaction of helping children succeed, although I knew very little about Kumon myself.

One of these friends mentioned a Kumon ‘Interest Day’ for anyone thinking about becoming an instructor and opening their own centre.

“Why don’t you go along and see what it’s all about?”

So I did.

That morning, the Kumon method and the principles laid down by its founder, Toru Kumon, were explained. We tried some worksheets ourselves and completed an assessment, followed by an introduction to the business side.

By the time I left, something had clicked. I could run my own business, develop a team of young people and carry on doing what I had always loved – helping children learn.
I wish I’d found this earlier in my career, I thought.

So I took the plunge, completed the training and opened my first Kumon centre in Irlam.

Three weeks later, the country went into lockdown!

Not exactly the beginning I had imagined.

A business I had barely started suddenly had to move online. Somehow, we adapted and persevered.

Then another opportunity appeared: the chance to take over a larger Kumon Centre in Chorlton.

Of course, I said yes.

It took time to rebuild after Covid, but gradually the centre grew, largely through recommendations. Before long, we had around 80 students studying approximately 125 Maths and English programmes between them.

But it’s not the numbers I’ll remember. It’s the smiles as children succeed and grow in confidence.

There is a particular smile that appears when a child who has been struggling suddenly understands and realises, I can do this.

That moment is at the heart of Kumon for me.

We don’t simply tell children how to answer a question. We want them to become independent learners: to look, think, question, try – and sometimes try again.
If a child is struggling, I might ask, “Have you read the instruction? What does the example show you? What do you think?”

Then I wait.

They may look at me, hoping I’ll simply tell them the answer. I don’t. They look again at their work, try something different, perhaps rub it out and try again – and suddenly they have it.
“Well done! I didn’t tell you that,” I say. “You worked it out yourself.”

And there’s that smile of triumph.

Recently, I watched an eight-year-old working on algebraic expressions involving multiple operations, around five years ahead of his age. What impressed me most wasn’t the advanced Maths, but what happened when he got something wrong.

He didn’t give up. He looked harder, thought about it, tried again and eventually found and corrected the mistake himself.

Another child came to me from a very different starting point. She was working considerably below her age and lacked confidence. Even basic number bonds were difficult.

We started where she needed to start and gradually filled the gaps and built the foundations she needed. Today, I watch that same child tackling complex calculations involving fractions, multiple operations and brackets.

Those two children sum up what I love about Kumon. The child who needs time to consolidate can have that time. The child able to race ahead can race ahead. Age doesn’t have to determine what either is capable of learning.

There have been many proud moments: students progressing years beyond their school year; children completing the entire Kumon English programme (GCSE level) by 12 or 13; and parents arriving with news that their child has gained a place at a particular school.

But some of my proudest moments have no impressive school name attached to them.

They happen when the child who thought, I’m not good at Maths or English, begins to think, Actually, I can do this.

I haven’t made this journey alone.

I have a wonderful team of young assistants who know when to encourage, when to give guidance – and when to allow a child the satisfaction of discovering the answer independently. I’ve watched them grow too, often leaving for university and professional careers.

And then there are the parents. We talk, message and share progress because we’re all on the same side, wanting that young person to succeed.

Which brings me to where I am today.

Sadly, it’s time for me to leave.

Family circumstances mean I need to step back and allow somebody else to take the reins. I won’t pretend it will be easy for me to do that.

I hope the person who takes over will love working with children, value the team and build on what is already here. With an established centre, experienced staff, training and support from Kumon and potential for further growth, perhaps they will see the same possibilities I saw all those years ago.

I’ll be there at the beginning, working alongside them to make the transition as seamless as possible.

Then it really will be time for me to leave.

I’ll remember the eight-year-old working five years ahead and the child who struggled with number bonds before eventually going on to tackle complex fraction calculations.

I’ll remember, too, a 13-year-old girl from Ethiopia who arrived with hardly any English and is now a confident 20-year-old young woman training to become a structural engineer.

And I’ll remember all the other children whose victories, no matter how small, have made this job such a joy.

Seven years ago, I walked out of a Kumon ‘Interest Day’ thinking: I wish I’d found this earlier.

I still do.

And when I finally walk out of the door for the last time, I already know what I’ll miss most.

The children, the parents and my colleagues.

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by Julia Parker, Owner and Instructor, Kumon Study Centre, Chorlton