Every lesson leaves something behind. Make sure it's belief.
There are teachers I can't remember.
I couldn't tell you their names.
I couldn't tell you what they taught.
I couldn't tell you what classroom they were in.
And then there are the ones I'll never forget.
Some because they changed my life for the better.
Some because they changed it in ways they probably never intended.
One memory has stayed with me for over forty years.
We were writing a piece of text about penguins.
Once we'd written it in pencil, we had to show it to the teacher before writing over it in pen.
I proudly handed mine in.
She pointed out I'd spelt "father" incorrectly.
So I rewrote it.
I handed it back.
This time I'd written "farter."
She said it loudly enough for the class to hear.
Everyone laughed.
She sent me back again.
The problem wasn't that she'd corrected my spelling.
The problem was that she never actually taught me how to spell the word.
She simply kept telling me I'd got it wrong.
I must have rewritten that page four or five times before I finally got it right.
Looking back now, I don't remember the finished piece of work.
I remember the feeling.
The embarrassment.
The sinking feeling every time I walked back to my desk.
The belief that everyone else knew something I didn't.
Years later, I met another teacher.
Mrs Pope.
She taught me English at college.
A few months after I started college, my dad died.
She noticed.
She checked in.
She listened.
She treated me as a person before she treated me as a student.
I don't remember every lesson she taught.
I remember how she made me feel.
It's fascinating, isn't it?
Two teachers.
Two completely different memories.
Neither stayed with me because of the curriculum.
They stayed with me because of how they treated me, how they made me feel.
That's one of the reasons I believe tutoring is about so much more than knowledge.
Every lesson leaves something behind.
Sometimes it's confidence.
Sometimes it's curiosity.
Sometimes it's resilience.
Sometimes, sadly, it's self-doubt.
As adults, we have an extraordinary privilege.
Children borrow their inner voice from the adults around them.
The words we choose...
The expressions on our faces...
The patience we show...
The encouragement we give...
They all become part of the story a child tells themselves.
That is an enormous responsibility.
Because children won't remember every worksheet.
But they may remember for decades how one adult made them feel.
If I could ask every tutor, teacher and parent just one question, it would be this:
When a child thinks back to you in forty years' time...
What do you hope they'll remember?
