The other day, I wrote about how tedious it was to gather the documents for registering as a Real Estate Transaction Specialist (Takken-shi). That reminded me that I’m also registering for another, less well-known credential called “Certified Psychologist” (Nintei Shinrishi). It’s not really a qualification in the strict sense—it’s more like a certificate proving that you completed psychology courses at university—but gathering the required documents for that was also quite a hassle.
The most prestigious credentials in the field of psychology in Japan are probably the Clinical Psychologist and the Licensed Psychologist. Job postings for counselors at schools, hospitals, or public institutions often require a Clinical Psychologist certification. To obtain it, you need to complete a graduate program in psychology. The Licensed Psychologist is a relatively new national certification, and similarly requires university-level coursework in psychology.
I actually graduated from a psychology program myself, but when I was in school, these qualifications didn’t exist. Years later, as a working adult, I learned about them and looked into whether I could earn them while working. While there are graduate programs open to adults, classes are often during weekdays, or even in distance programs you’re required to attend numerous practical sessions. So realistically, it’s difficult for a regular working adult to obtain these certifications.
At the same time, being a counselor doesn’t legally require any specific credential. As a result, there are countless “psychologist” or “counselor” titles offered by private organizations—somewhat confusing and often regarded as quasi-certifications.
The Certified Psychologist falls into that category in the eyes of the public, but it’s a bit different because it’s issued by the Japanese Psychological Association (JPA) itself. This title doesn’t certify special skills; rather, it proves that someone has studied psychology at the university level and possesses basic knowledge and skills in the field. For people whose major wasn’t psychology, it serves as a verification that they have completed a reasonable amount of coursework.
The JPA reportedly established this certification partly because organizations under its umbrella had been issuing too many confusing private credentials. Even so, the “Certified Psychologist” designation can still be somewhat misleading.
No exam is required for certification; it’s purely a document review. The total cost is around ¥40,000 (¥10,000 for the review fee and ¥30,000 for the certification fee), which is, in a sense, a donation to the JPA.
I decided to register partly because I hoped it would reconnect me with the world of psychology. Another reason was that the application forms were about to change, and the deadline was approaching. In spring 2019, the new requirements made it extremely difficult for someone like me—who had graduated many years ago—to gather the necessary documents. So I applied just in time under the old rules.
The required documents included things like:
Transcript of psychology-related courses
List of practical experiments for basic courses in domain C (details omitted)
Syllabi for basic courses A, B, and C (details omitted)
Official transcript or certificate of completed credits
For recent graduates, collecting these would be straightforward. But in my case, nearly 40 years had passed, the old syllabi were gone, and I wasn’t actively working in psychology. Still, I was required to provide as much detail as possible about my coursework. This involved calling my old department, digging through family archives, and looking up past publications by my former professors. At one point, I almost gave up out of sheer frustration.
On the other hand, revisiting forgotten psychology terms and concepts and talking with my former university staff was also stimulating. So, even though I didn’t pass any exam, receiving the certification gave me a genuine sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.
Incidentally, the certificate itself is quite well-made, far more substantial than, say, a laminated Tour Guide License. I don’t really need to carry it for practical purposes, but I might slip it into my wallet for conversation’s sake.