What do you feel when you read the word “Teacher”?
How does your body respond?
I ask these questions because we very quickly respond with our thoughts when a question is asked — automatically, logically, and habitually. But for some questions, it’s worth pausing and noticing our somatic response. Where does your body reply? What does it say, before your mind jumps in?
My somatic response is a slightly deeper breath that expands my chest and get my heart pumping. As I sit, I realise that my head feels alive, and my eyes drift away from my laptop screen and across the room, almost as if invited into old memories of the classroom. I remember the layout of two-person desks, rows facing forwards, listening to teachers. I remember learning to write, even with joined up letters in primary school. In high-school learning focused on memorising information so that we could regurgitate it in exams. And I remember writing essays to practise my storytelling and my thinking.
I also remember the sensory world of practical subjects — the smell of metal and oil in the workshop, the smoky wood chips flying off the lathe, the glue fumes from plastic models, and even the headaches from thick felt-tip pens used for sketching ideas. These were happy times of designing and creating, I love creating and my design teacher truly and deeply saw this — he let me create, experiment, as I built stuff, he built me up.
But alongside that, I also feel deep in my stomach a sadness. I remember a prize-giving event at school, a room full of teachers and parents, excitement and anticipation. Then the Deputy Head announced: “And the maths prize… now this should obviously be going to George, but as you all know, George has already received the prizes for Physics and Chemistry, so we decided to give the prize to Nick.” I trudged up on to the stage to collect the prize, not with a winning / you desrved it feeling but one of not being good enough. The next day I was called into his office to receive his apology. But the apology was too late. The damage was done. I still feel that sadness of doing my best… but somebody was better, somebody was more worthy of the prize. A Deputy Head teacher pushing me down.
We can all still feel the impact of teachers in our lives — the good (I hope), the painful, and everything in between. Early memories and teenage memories continue to shape how we learn, listen, speak, create, lead and collaborate. Our education systems taught some of us to ‘pass’ exams if we were “clever enough” and to feel like failures / dummies if we were not. Many of us still feel the residue of that today, if we allow ourselves to sit, feel and notice it.
Teachers have influenced us all.
For me, perhaps even more… teachers are deeply present in my family.
Nearly everyone in my family — my parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and many cousins — were or still are teachers. When I was a kid and still recently, I’ll walk through my hometown with my dad and former pupils would come across the street to say hello: “Mr Regan! Nice to see you. Thanks for all I learnt with you.?” My dad enjoys this — especially if they had been good rugby players, he swears he’s taught many who went on to be pros. My mum is now nearly 80, but still has a glint in her eyes when reminising about Teaching adults with learning difficulties, her students who had downsyndrome thought she was AMAZING, and let her know with countless smiles, spontaneous applause and hugs.
At 18, I left home. And I left the world of teachers.
I didn’t want to teach, I certainly didn’t want to stand in front of a classroom full of kids. I loved design and was great in maths and physics, (even if George was better) so I studied Mechanical Engineering with the intention of designing things.
I did exactly that in the automotive world in different countries, across continents. I was good at it and learned fast, so was quickly promoted into engineering management. Leading engineers became something I was even better at, again because of learning,,,, I wanted to learn about my team / each team member and I wanted my team to learn, to experiment, to build, to try and fail and grow, to deliver — not through instruction, but through space, curiosity, and ownership. We created great products, and soon I realised that I actually preferred people development over technical development. Eventually I shifted into HR where I was handed a blank page to develop the organisation’s learning and development strategy.
At that point — 15 years after distancing myself from teaching — my genes caught up with me.
My work became about helping people learn. From 2009 onward, I immersed myself in Learning & Development: connecting business strategy, capability, behaviour, and learning culture. Even writing this now activates a learning energy in me — it is in my identity, not just my CV.
I have teachers blood running through my body and every once in a while I meet former engineers, trainees, team members and clients who say: “Hey Nick, good to see you — ah it was so good to work with you, (or train wirth you) I learnt so much” And of course I enjoy this…
It took me time to accept that I could / actually want to be a teacher — even writing this I sense ‘others’ reactions to this word.
Teachers have such an important role in people lives, they influences what people may choose to do and even how they feel about themselves and others,,,, good enough or a failure? Open to learning or fixed on needing to get the right answer.
I also realise that the world has shifted from a teacher-centred model to a learner-centred one, and I believe deeply in that evolution.
And at the same time, I also believe in brilliant teachers — teachers who don’t lecture at us, but create the conditions for learning. Teachers who know things, share generously, and allow us to explore, experiment, practise and integrate. Not from a position of hierarchy, and not from a belief that the learner already knows everything, but from a stance of:
“I know some things.
You know some things.
Let’s learn together and see what emerges.”
This is the type of teacher ‘stance’ that I choose to occupy.
This is a collaborative teaching and learning stance.
This is my stance.
And this is why I believe in Skillful Collaboration.
Let’s learn together.
Let’s connect.
Let’s collaborate.
I hope you learnt something about yourself from this somatic experience of reading the post and feeling into your reaction to the word teacher.
I’d love to see your reactions and learnings in the comments.
