An Unforgettable “Failed Tour”

Back when guiding was still a side job for me, and I was slowly building experience,
I once led a food tour for a mother and her young son.

Looking back, that tour became an “unforgettable failure” that still stings a little when I think about it.

After the tour, I received a very harsh negative review from the mother.
Up until then, I had mostly guided couples and received many positive reviews.
I was starting to feel quite confident about my work.

That is why this one review hit me so hard.
It felt as if someone had snapped my pride clean in two.

I remember thinking:
“Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”
“It feels like my whole existence as a guide has been denied.”

It was as if I’d been struck on the head with a hammer—
a psychological shock I still remember very clearly.

A Chain of Misfortune and My Own Inexperience

The trouble had already begun quietly, even before the tour started.

I trusted the hotel name the company had provided as our meeting point.
But in reality, that information was wrong, and because of that,
we started the tour about 30 minutes late.

On top of that, the guest that day was a mother traveling with her young son,
and she had a stroller with her.

At that time, I was still a fairly inexperienced guide,
and this was my very first time leading a tour for a guest with a stroller.

I had absolutely no idea how challenging it can be to navigate the streets of Shinjuku with a stroller.
I was single then, and my head was mostly filled with thoughts about my next weekend date.
There was simply no way I could truly imagine the reality of parenting in a city like that.

And then came the third—and decisive—mistake.

Since it was a food tour, I chose an izakaya that I thought would offer plenty of food options.
I believed I was doing them a favor by picking a place with variety.

However, that restaurant was not non-smoking.

Guests at the table right behind us started smoking freely,
and the cigarette smoke slowly drifted over our table.

For a mother with a small child, this is understandably unacceptable.
I could see her face getting darker and darker.
By that point, her frustration had reached its peak.

“I Could Make Excuses If I Wanted To”

If I wanted to, I could come up with all kinds of excuses.

The tour took place in Kabukicho, Shinjuku.
It’s a district built to satisfy all sorts of adult pleasures—
not exactly a place designed for relaxed family time.

In that sense, you could argue that the very idea of
“staying in Kabukicho with a small child and joining a food tour in the middle of the nightlife area”
was misaligned with the environment from the beginning.

I could easily have blamed the city, the setting, or even the guests’ choice of hotel.

Even now, nearly ten years later, whenever I meet a family staying at a hotel in Kabukicho,
that old memory briefly resurfaces.
I find myself consciously making sure that my face doesn’t show even a hint of discomfort when I greet them.

From Confidence to Setback – and Choosing to Run Away

Until that incident, I had mostly guided couples on food tours
and collected many positive reviews along the way.
Those kind words had gradually built my confidence.

Then came this one, strong negative review.

“I never imagined I would be evaluated like this…”

It was, quite literally, a bolt from the blue.
I felt as if my personality itself had been denied.
For a while, I couldn’t even bring myself to look directly at that review screen.

After that, whenever I saw the words “family guests” or “stroller” on the assignment sheet from the company,
I quietly tried to avoid being assigned to those tours.

“I’ll stick to couples. Families can be handled by someone who’s good with kids.”
That’s how I thought back then.
I convinced myself that “avoiding it is the smart choice.”

How Independence Forced Me to Change

However, once I left the company and became independent, that mindset stopped working.

When you hang your own sign and accept work directly,
you can’t simply say, “I don’t want to handle this type of guest.”

Families with children, three-generation trips, guests with strollers,
different tastes in food, different walking speeds, different interests—
every group required a different kind of attention.

In the beginning, every tour felt like a new challenge.
To be honest, there were mornings when I felt nervous and wondered,
“Will I be able to handle things well today?”

Even so, as I faced one family after another, something inside me began to change.

Before I knew it, I started to genuinely enjoy spending time with children.

By the end of a tour, kids would call my name, or come up to me for a high-five.
Slowly, naturally, I began to look forward to those moments.

And then, more and more reviews started to include comments like:

• “Kenji was wonderful with our child.”
• “It became an unforgettable experience for our son.”

Once, I was afraid of family guests.
Now, I had somehow become someone who truly enjoyed guiding them.

What I Always Focus On with Family Guests

Today, I have one very clear guiding strategy:

I always prioritize the youngest child in the family.

I start by building rapport with the smallest “main character” in the group.
Once my heart connects with that child, the atmosphere of the entire tour softens and warms up dramatically.

Practically, that means things like:

• Lowering my eye level to match the child’s and speaking from there
• When explaining something difficult, first trying to phrase it in a way the child can understand
• If the child looks bored, quickly creating a little “mission” on the spot (finding a sign, noticing a smell, listening for certain sounds, etc.)

I experiment with these small ideas during each tour,
write down what worked and what didn’t in my notebook,
and carry those learnings into the next tour.

These days, whenever I see a new booking from a family, I find myself thinking:

• “What kind of ‘role’ can I give the kids this time?”
• “What kind of moment would become a once-in-a-lifetime memory for them?”

Planning these things has become a quiet pleasure in my work.

How This Shapes My Sushi Class Today

All of these failures and repeated attempts have flowed directly into how I run my sushi class now.

In my class, I don’t just teach recipes or techniques.
I constantly think about how to create a space where
“the smallest main character in the family” can truly shine.

• If a child is afraid to hold a knife, I prepare a different role for them.
• If a child is curious and energetic, I might assign them as the “Question Captain” for the class.
• If a child is shy, I’ll save the very last, special piece of sushi for them to make, so everyone can applaud.

After each class, I ask myself:

• What worked well today?
• What could I improve next time?

I write the answers down and continue to update the content of the class, step by step.

There was a time when I was crushed by a negative review from a family,
and I truly thought, “I never want to guide families again.”

Now, the smiles of the children have become one of my biggest sources of energy.

From Failure to a Child-Loving, Curious, and Always-Improving Host

If that tour with the mother and son had ended “just okay,”
I might never have taken family guests this seriously.
It was a painful failure, but because of that experience,
I was forced to face my own inexperience and learn how to interact with children from scratch.

Today, many of the families who join my sushi class leave reviews like:

• “Our child had such a wonderful time.”
• “The whole family could relax and enjoy the experience.”
• “Kenji was incredibly patient and kind with our kids.”

I am not a perfect guide, nor a genius sushi chef.
But I do take pride in one thing:

I refuse to run away from my failures,
and I keep asking myself, “How can I make it better next time?”

Above all, I love the moment after a class ends,
when a child proudly shows me a photo of the sushi they made with their own hands.

If you are someone who is:

• Looking for a sushi class where your children can safely and genuinely enjoy themselves, or
• Hoping for more than “just another activity,” and want a time that becomes a real family memory,

then I believe my past failures and all the trial and error that followed
can be of real value to your family.

Thank you for reading this far.
I truly hope that one day, I will have the chance to welcome you and your family
into my kitchen studio here in Tokyo.