Teach What You Need to Learn

Every time I teach, I realize the lesson is still shaping me, too.

There's a strange kind of honesty that shows up when you’re standing in front of a room trying to teach something you’re still wrestling with yourself.

You prepare the slides. You print the handouts.

You organize the flow. But the deeper part of you knows: this isn’t just for them.

It’s for you, too.

Because to teach well, you have to slow down enough to see what you’ve really learned. To put it into words. To make it useful. And in that process, the lesson gets carved a little deeper into you.

I’ve learned that mastery isn’t about arriving. It’s about returning—again and again—to the fundamentals. To the questions. To the principles that don’t get old, because you meet them differently every time you grow.

Teaching is remembering. And remembering is refining.

So when I teach tonight, I won’t be presenting a performance. I’ll be sharing the path I’m still walking, with calluses, questions, and clarity.

Because what I’m really teaching isn’t a checklist or a how-to.

It’s a way of being:

• Show up.

• Work with care.

• Pay attention.

• Keep building.

Field Note:

You don’t have to have it all figured out to be a guide. You just have to be walking with your eyes open.