Column: The colors we carry: A whimsical account of teaching and self-discovery

This article was originally posted to the Sheridan Press: https://www.thesheridanpress.com/opinion/columnists/column-the-colors-we-carry-a-whimsical-account-of-teaching-and-self-discovery/article_f33c06e3-75f9-4566-bd93-061a422944cc.html

One of the unexpected joys of lifelong learning is the reminder that a person can march through the world, across military posts, office corridors, and college campuses, and still stumble upon hidden rooms inside one’s own mind. Recently, during a period of intentional reflection on my work as an educator, I felt a bit like Lucy stepping through the wardrobe in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, expecting something curious and simple, only to find myself in a forest of self-discovery where familiar traits appeared like great, friendly creatures painted in the subtle colors of my character. Each hue seemed to glow with a quiet insistence, asking to be noticed, understood, and named.

I felt a bit like Lucy stepping through the wardrobe in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, expecting something curious and simple, only to find myself in a forest of self-discovery…

These facets of who I am, steadfast, visionary, logical, warmhearted, presented themselves like old companions I had forgotten to greet. They reminded me that teaching is not merely something I do, but something I am. Every learning environment I enter carries traces of the places and seasons that shaped me: the discipline of the Army, the strategic clarity forged in HR leadership, the curiosity of philosophical and psychological study, and the deep hope I carry for every learner who crosses my path.

I have always believed that students are travelers on a road that can feel foggy, crooked, or wildly enchanted depending on the day. My reflections remind me that my task as an educator is not to straighten the winding road but to journey alongside learners with a small and rather mischievous compass – one that sometimes spins in playful circles as if amused by possibilities I haven’t yet considered. Some days its needle holds firm; other days it drifts thoughtfully, inviting me to pause, imagine, and trust that wonder often reveals what direction alone cannot.

What resonated most deeply with me throughout this recent reflective period was the gentle reminder that learners see the world differently. Some crave adventure; others long for certainty. Some wish for logic; others hunger for connection. My job is to speak fluently in all colors; it’s an effort that sometimes feels like learning several dialects of the same beautiful language, each representing a different way of making sense of the world. Far from being wearying, this stretch feels delightful, like discovering that the map of who I am can grow new wings when needed.

C. S. Lewis once wrote that “the world is not only stranger than we imagine, but stranger than we can imagine,” and so it is with teaching. Every student arrives with an untold story wrapped in questions, doubts, and quiet hopes. I have learned that teaching is far less about pouring facts into minds and far more about coaxing out the brilliant hues hidden within them. I am not merely a facilitator; I am a gardener of potential, a keeper of curiosities, and a guide who believes wholeheartedly in transformation.

As I look toward my work ahead, both as a human resources professional and as an educator of minds, I feel a renewed sense of enchantment. My teaching philosophy has always rested on the belief that learning is sacred and that people are capable of far more than they realize. With this renewed clarity, I am determined to turn classrooms and learning opportunities into places of discovery where learners feel seen, supported, and, if I am lucky, just a bit spellbound. For in the end, teaching, like the best stories, is an act of hope.

And hope, I imagine, shimmers in many colors.