- Donna Burke, 60, started her teaching career in Perth, Australia, but harbored deeper ambitions.
- She left the profession to follow her dream of being a famous singer and actor.
- Now she’s a professional singer — and the voice of Japan’s bullet train.
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Donna Burke. It has been edited for length and clarity.
I actually got my education at a teacher training college completely for free.
In the 1980s, the Australian government paid for you to attend university if you worked for more than two years. I stayed in a banking job for exactly two years and two days so I could claim free higher education and retrain as a teacher.
My parents didn’t encourage my true aspirations — singing and acting — but saw teaching as a safe career on which I could always fall back. I was one of seven children, and we were encouraged to do everything we could to be financially stable. Two of my older sisters also went into teacher training.
I reflect now on whether it was good advice to put my dreams second. Perhaps it was. I later really wanted to move to Japan — where I now live — to work. One of the visa requirements was that you have a university degree. Without following my parents’ advice, I’d have been ineligible. But now I get to do something I truly love.
I never thought teaching would be a job for life
I began my teaching career by returning to work at the same school I’d attended as a student. The boys in my class were an absolute nightmare and the girls barely got my attention as I was so busy trying to calm and control the unruly boys. I followed the common advice on winning obedience as a teacher: don’t crack a smile before Easter. I was super strict; I had to be.
After that, I moved on to teach older students Religion, English, and Drama at a different high school. It was heaven; I could relax and crack jokes without losing control of the class. They’d barely laugh, though.
I never hoped it’d be a job for life. I wanted to be onstage.
In some ways, teaching is like being onstage; it’s like acting. You have to pretend you don’t care when you deeply care. You have to stifle laughter, keep a straight face, act really disappointed, or say, ” Wow, that’s amazing!” knowing that 30 young adults are watching your every move. But they don’t want a performer; they want a teacher. I never said it out loud, but in the back of my mind, I knew I was settling.
I moved to Tokyo
After eight years of teaching in Perth, Australia, I saw an ad for a teaching job in Tokyo. At the interview, they said the job involved less teaching and more helping Japanese young people with their English conversation skills. It felt like an opportunity for a role with fewer responsibilities in a new and exciting place.
When I moved to Japan, I soon realized I could make good money being a wedding singer as a side hustle, something I’d started doing in Perth. I was doing up to six weddings a day. It affirmed what I’d always known: teaching isn’t my passion; it’s not what I was put on the planet for.
In 1997, I left my teaching job in Tokyo and focused on my passion: bringing joy to people through my singing and performing. I also began doing voice-overs for computer games, including Silent Hill and Metal Gear Solid.
My voice is on the bullet train
In 2002, I auditioned to be the English-speaking voice on the Japanese bullet train, the Shinkansen, coinciding with Japan’s tourist boom of English speakers. I voiced about five routes, including the most famous: Tokyo to Kyoto.
It led to other great jobs, too. I’m also the English voice-over for the earthquake alert system in Japan. So if you’re anywhere in the country and a magnitude four earthquake or above happens, your mobile phone will blurt out my voice saying “Earthquake! Earthquake!”
I don’t regret any of my decisions. But my motto for life is: if you’re not grateful for what you’re doing, stop. You want to bring some energy into your work.
I’m glad I didn’t wait around for my “big break.” When it happened, it wasn’t what I’d expected, but the key was I didn’t ask anyone’s permission. I went out and made things happen myself.
