My most controversial opinion as a teacher

As a youth minister I usually disliked every Christian film I was exposed to. Violently disliked.

In fact, I can barely think of a distinctly Christian film that I enjoy. Certainly not one that I’d choose to watch a second time for entertainment or enjoyment.

The same can’t exactly be said now that I’m a history teacher.

I can think of plenty of historical films which I’ve enjoyed.

There’s plenty that I’ll gladly rewatch. 

But, there’s some films that I’m meant to like that I don’t.

And, as a history teacher, it’s my secret shame.

I don’t like Gallipoli.

I don’t like Jojo Rabbit.

I find one slow and boring.

I find the other silly and boring.

Frankly, I’ll do all I can to avoid showing them to my classes.

Despite how much some of my colleagues love the movies…

No matter if this opinion threatens my membership of the History Teachers Association…

I. Don’t. Like. Them.

I may show the trailers. Out of a sense of duty.

I may show a selected clip (because only the final 8 minutes of Gallipoli is worth watching).

But, I’ll quietly seethe if I am forced to rewatch either of these films for “educational purposes.”

Are the increasing physical demands of traditional testing still fair?

I currently have a lot of marking to do.

A LOT.

Dozens of hours.

All to be done outside of school hours.

Of course, this means that I’ve watched nine classes of examinations over the last week.

Anguished expressions.

Confused faces.

Boredom as the final moments tick away and the student finished their paper 15 minutes ago.

But, one physical trait kept emerging.

Discomfort.

Fingers.

Hands.

Wrists.

Arms.

Backs.

Necks.

Twisted.

Shaken.

Stretched.

All because the essays and exams had been hand-written. Old-school. Pen & paper. Analogue.

And the result was painful to watch.

But, as the distress unfolded before my eyes, I wondered about the stain that traditional exams put a modern student under.

Are students in 2026 at a greater disadvantage compared to a generation ago?

Due to their lack of practice in writing, are we progressively hindering students ability to accurately convey their knowledge due to the medium we ask them to communicate in?

Now, I’m not advocating for the abolition of written exams.

Writing matters.

The ability to communicate through writing matters.

It always will.

Or at least should.

But, as I witnessed the twitching and twiddling during the exams - actions costing the students examination time - I recalled that I went through a similar thing.

Due to the increased use of technology - be it laptops, iPads or phones - and the increasing physical toll that prolonged exposure to these activities has, is traditional testing methods setting up our students to preform their best?

The 11 markers of a good teacher

One of my aims this year is to oversee a university prac student for the first time. By now, I feel competent enough to be able to pass on my “vast knowledge.”

After teaching for half-a-decade, I’ve now got a grasp - through both experience and observation - on what makes for a good teacher.

Presence - A good teacher has authority. They are a presence in the classroom. Kids  change their posture when you approach. Personally, it’s my voice which projects this presence. It’s strong. It’s confident. 

Calm - This presence should be soothing. A calm presence. A calming presence. An adult amongst children. Fair. Predictable.

Passionate - Although you’re calm, you’re not boring. Students should be able to see your enthusiasm for your subject and profession. Your joy for your job and students should be evident.

Knowledgeable - But, your passion must be fuelled by competence. You know your content. You know what you’re teaching and what you’re going to teach next. You also know why you’re teaching it.

A learner - You’re not stagnant in your knowledge. Your keep studying. Keep reading. Keep going to conferences. Keep gleaning snippets from everything to strengthen your knowledge.

Reflective - With the passing of time, you continually seek to improve. To improve your teaching practices. To improve your content delivery. To improve your connection with your students. This only happens if you teach, experiment, reflect, tweak and then repeat.

Knows the systems - You don’t only know your content, but the systems and structures used to apply that information in a manner in which the education department desires. You’ve taught enough, marked enough and heard enough to know the best methods, short-cuts and work-arounds that your students need to hear.

Has perspective - You’re not just the adult because you’re older. You’re also wiser. And you share your wisdom. Wisdom about subject selection. Wisdom about higher education. Wisdom about the workforce. Wisdom about… adulting. Wisdom about the next term, next year and next five years in the life of a student.

Professional - Your look. Your speech. Your actions. 

Prepared - You know what you’re doing. Where you’re going. What you and your students need. You have it with you. In advance.

Collegial - You work well with others. You share resources. You help others. You step up when needed. You’re friendly. You make your workspace welcoming.

The modern effect of misunderstanding kairos & chronos time

Currently, I’m teaching my year 7 classes about time.

I like teaching this introductory topic because it reminds me just how tricky the concept of time is.

For, we think we confidently know far more than we actually do.

The length of a year?

The number of year we are in?

The order of the months?

All of these are far more complex than they appear on face value.

In fact, how the time students think about time harkens back to the Greeks - chronos and kairos. 

Time can be linear and ordered - chronos - or time can be segmented and highlighted by moments of significance - kairos.

The easiest way to display both is on a timeline. 

Only moments of significance are added to the timeline and the timeline itself is a chronological representation.

But, modernity struggles with the two differentiations.

Why?

Because we create reels instead of photo albums. 

Reels document every chronos moment. 

Photo albums are reserved for the kairos moments.

Nowadays, our holidays are punctuated by 1500 pictures instead of 50 photos.

We take pictures of food instead of being present for meals.

We live moments through our screens, not seeking to cement them in our memories.

For kairos is expensive. Chronos is cheap.

Before we documented, shared and judged every chronological moment in our lives, the restrictions of price and time restricted earlier generation to commemorate only kairos moments.

The importance of professional compartmentalisation

We all have stress.

Interpersonal stress.

Mental stress.

Physical stress.

Stress at church.

Stress at home.

Stress at work.

Life begins to feel overwhelming when the stresses of life start to pile up upon each other.

Mental stress results in interrupted sleep and, thus, physical stress.

Stress at home blends into stress at work.

Stress at work blends outside of work hours.

What we need is a hearty dose of healthy compartmentalism.

We need to establish routines to box up our stresses so they don’t catch a ride into another part of our life.

This was the beauty of my previous jobs in retail and meter reading.

I carried nothing home.

No matter what was going on professionally, none of it had any serious ramifications for my personal life.

No matter how bad a day I had, by the time I made my way home, everything was out of my mind.

Of course, it helped immensely that my jobs weren’t overly important to me.

Retail wasn’t my profession.

Meter reading was only ever temporary.

But, ministry and teaching stresses are a different matter.

These ACTUALLY matter.

But, they are also 30 minutes from home.

They could be packed away on the drive home, ready to be reopened on the way back to work.

We need bumpers in our life to allow segmentation.

Maybe, for you, it is a drive home. It could be going to the gym. Perhaps it is walking the dog. It may be as simple as sitting in your car for a few minutes once you pull into your driveway. A mental unloading while riding the lift up to your apartment.

No matter how you achieve it, with healthy compartmentalisation, the bleeding of stresses can be somewhat stemmed.

While every element of your life will be inevitably connected, having the ability to shut off your vocational stresses, can be vital for your wellbeing and provide the adequate space required for you to then deal with the obstacles awaiting you on a Monday morning.

Do we partake in educational waterboarding?

56.

This is how many assessments tasks a junior student will approximately have over the academic year at the high school I teach in.

That is a lot. 

In fact, the number has been intentionally reduced due to the sheer quantity.

But, even if the number is knocked down to 40, this is still a lot of testing for a young teenager.

But, then again, we teach students a lot of content.

If you’re in year seven in New South Wales, for my teaching subjects, you’ll be taught six separate topics over 40 weeks.

My senior class covers ten lengthy topics across 7 school terms.

Again, this is a lot.

If you multiply these figures across all of the subjects that a student takes, then they get bombarded with content.

For some students, it’s manageable.

School works for them.

They thrive within the educational structures which we’ve developed over generations.

They excel within the pressure of study and examination.

But, other students struggle.

They struggle under the cognitive load.

They struggle under the stress of exams.

They struggle under the relentlessness of the school year.

In short, for some kids, school is just too much.

It can be torturous.

A continual flood of information and performance.

So, for these teens, we could compare the way we teach - or at least amount - as the equivalent of educational waterboarding.

We force too much information down their throats until they can’t handle the sheer volume.

And, then we continue the torrent.

For some kids, it’s all too much.

They are subjected to educational waterboarding.

I wonder what would happen if we found a productive way to lessen the load.

To reduce the stress.

The spread out the content.

To slow the torrent.

The trouble is, with the structures which are currently in place, our ability to now rewire the modern education systems is an uphill battle.

Meanwhile, far too many kids will still be drowning in schools…

Could I teach at the same school as my own children?

As a teacher on school holidays I’m not thinking too much about school in 2026.

That can still wait a few more weeks since I’m not preparing any new content to deliver over the year ahead of me (at least not yet anyway!).

But, my mind has wandered to teaching my children.

Often, I’ll pass on little tidbits about my classes and, sometimes, they say that they’d enjoy having a teacher like me.

For example, I mentioned over dinner today a fun distraction tip for my eldest to make her English teacher’s head spin (the question you should pose is “Why is the sound that a dog makes different in a lot of languages? Shouldn’t they be all the same because they are describing the same sound?”).

But, it raises a good question… Could I teach in the same school as my kids?

Of course, unless I decide, it won’t happen.

The only realistic scenarios which would land me in that situation would be if I successfully applied for a job at their high school or they transferred into a school I was already working at.

And, outside of these, I’m not it a rural or specialist setting where it would be impossible to not teach my offspring.

Nonetheless, I pretty sure I wouldn’t benefit from the situation.

For, I admit, I’m weak.

As great as others may be able to handle sharing the same school as their kids, I don’t think it would do me (never mind my kids) any good.

I’d be too protective.

I’d be too nosy.

I’d be… if the situation warranted it… too harsh.

Despite any overriding sense of professionalism, my desire to parent would be too easily triggered.

Father would trump teacher.

Of course, I’d like to think that I’d be able to easily mark an essay from my child impartially, but the personal interactions of my child would be something which I’d have trouble containing.

If she was bullied, I’d want to go all protective Papa-bear.

If she was a bully, I’d be crushed.

If she was rude to a teacher, I’d be personally offended.

If she did a stupid-teen-action, which most teens inevitability do, I’d be overwhelmingly apologetic.

Have a mentioned that I’m a weird, popular, but oddball teacher? It may be better that parts of the student body don’t share my surname.

So, these - along with a bunch of other reasons that I’m probably unaware of - shouldn’t result in me sharing a workplace with one of my offspring.

The skill every teen must learn to be a productive adult

There are many things you need to learn at school.

There are some things you should learn by the time you leave school.

Some people think that school should teach you financial literacy - budgeting and paying taxes - or practical life skills like home/car maintenance or first aid.

One skill that needs to be developed by the time a youngster leaves the cocoon of high school is networking.

In order to be a productive adult, no matter what endeavours they are going into after high school, is the ability to strike up and hold a conversation.

This is THE ability which will serve them well and something a child struggles with.

For, a child is all about them.

Their needs.

Their wants.

Their interests.

Maturity is about learning to focus on others.

This, ideally, is the foundation of productive adulthood.

It is at the core of good citizenship.

It is at the core of quality friendship.

It is at the core of a valuable workmate.

It is at the core of fruitful relationships.

The ability to start and keep a conversation going sets you up for success.

This is why it is a skill which should be cultivated in the later years of high school.

Proficiency to converse opens doors and is a differentiator when selecting candidates for work or love.

Being alert to the next step in the last conversation

Developing a relationship takes time and effort.

Within an educational or pastoral setting, this relationship develops in snippets.

The main reason for this is that, while you may have many interactions with the youngster, they are fleeting and, at least in schools, in conflict with overriding curriculum pressures.

Nonetheless, you are able to develop a relationship with those in your care.

The simplest way to do this is to, obviously, share a conversation.

But, as I wrote above, time is in short supply.

Rarely will you have the chance to engage in a deep conversation.

But, just because the chronological conversation may be short, the interaction doesn’t need to be.

No matter if it is at a church youth group, on Sunday morning, in the classroom or in the playground, the ability to continue a conversation is vital in developing these important relationships.

At the core, the trick is to be mindful of the place you’re up to.

What was shared last?

Where may this lead?

How are you going to follow up from the last interaction?

What update are you going to pursue?

What event from the last week are you able to enquire about?

If you’re alert to the next step in the conversation, then you’ll be able to intentionally cultivate these relationships and show the teen that they personally matter to you.

Opening the window for the 5-Minute Expert

No matter what vocation you work in, there will always be people who are experts in a certain segment of the job.

Maybe they’ve been doing it for a long time.

Maybe they’ve figured out an innovative way to do the tasks that are required.

Maybe they’ve stumbled upon a way which connects with your clientele.

No matter, most people in your workplace will have an expert niche.

A good leader looks for opportunities for that expertise to be shared.

That is why it’s important to open up periodic five-minute tutorials.

A snapshot of what works.

Hopefully, everyone in your workplace will be honest enough to realise that they haven’t worked it all out yet, respectful enough to be able to listen to a colleague for five minutes and supportive enough to be willing to try a suggestion by someone more effective then they are.

Within the church setting, it should be a no-brainer.

God has given us each different sets of spiritual gifts to use for Him.

This will shape the kind of ministry we have.

Thus, this will enable to be stronger in certain areas.

Since the body of Christ isn’t a millipede (where everyone is an identical leg), we should be more than open to glean from the wisdom of others.

Within the school context, the variety of years/classes/subjects we teach will naturally enable us to develop in specific areas.

Since so much of teacher life can involve you being placed outside your preferred context, surely hearing from those who are more effective in these areas would be advantageous.

What geography teacher (who needs to teach junior history) wouldn’t want to learn from a history colleague about effective source analysis?

What history teacher (who needs to teach junior geography) wouldn’t want strategies to effectively teach geography skills?

All it needs to take is five regular minutes…

The message that must emerge from the banter

I love my staff room.

One of the best things about it is the quality banter.

One of the common sounds amongst my colleagues is laughter.

Or at least a good chuckle.

But, the banter can get vocationally dark.

We can sarcastically banter about students, administration, marking, assessments  and preparation.

As the largest faculty in our school, we also have a lot of prac students.

This term alone, we have had a half dozen university students join us.

Whenever the banter about out job is supercharged - and bent towards the negatives of the job - I will regularly chirp in with an important disclaimer.

We love our jobs.

We enjoy teaching.

We like (the vast majority) of our students.

And young impressionable teachers need to hear this amongst the banter.

They need to hear our passion amongst the snark.

They need to sense the enjoyment in the middle of the humorous grumbling.

As you are in a profession and workplace long-term , you can - from the outside - appear and sounded cynical or jaded.

Even if you’re not.

And, young trainees must realise that underneath the banter is passion.

How important is good banter in my classroom?

If the title of this post replaced the word important with essential, then the answer would be simple.

None.

Good banter isn’t essential.

Neither is laughter.

Or enjoyment.

But all three are included in my classroom.

And they make things better.

In fact, they make my classes, mine.

For, I have a pretty good banter game.

I tell corny jokes (even if it’s only to entertain myself at times).

I will have, at times, the most energetic classes in the school.

I’ll act.

I’ll throw myself on the ground and loudly wail in order to demonstrate Ancient Egyptian funeral practices.

I’ll do what it takes to not only communicate the content of my lessons, but that I really enjoy educating and, specifically, teaching my subjects.

This happens best if I’m authentically teaching.

And… I’m funny (or at least witty).

I’m loud.

I’m energetic.

I’m shameless.

Without anything getting out of control, and with the boundaries clearly put in place and firmly kept, I will engage in some friendly banter.

This is not “ya mum” or “that’s what she said.”

This is crap banter.

Good banter is productive…

Usually, it will help me build rapport with my students.

Often, it will help students develop social skills.

It will cultivate sense of belonging.

It will, always, add the flavour that this class as one taught by me.

Of course, the aim is never to be friends with my students. 

But, I can (and should), be friendly.

It must remain clear that I’m both the adult AND the professional in the room.

But, a classroom without quality banter… wouldn’t be a classroom where I’m the teacher.

The obstacles when you’re not acclimatised

While my wife and I were in Europe over the last school holidays we did something which we always find a challenge - we hired a car.

Of course, the major challenge for an Australian driving in Europe is that you need to drive on the opposite side of the road.

Thankfully, after a few days we both adjusted (even if I did routinely turn on the windscreen wipers when I intended to indicate a turn), but the first few hours were hairy for both driver and passenger.

Everything was just a little more difficult.

Everything required just a lot more concentration.

Because everything was unfamiliar.

Whenever you do something new, or for the first time in a long while, everything takes a while to fall into place.

It’s true for driving.

It’s true for teaching.

It’s true for preaching.

It takes a while for your body to acclimatise to the rigours of a new activity.

But the place I most encounter this is whenever I ride a bike.

Frankly, I’m not brilliant on a bicycle.

I can ride, but I only ever do so sporadically - and usually in Europe.

This last time, my body reminded me that I was not acclimatised to the physical toll that the task would bring.

But, no matter if it is driving on the right side of the road, riding in the saddle, in the classroom or at the pulpit, there are consequences of unfamiliarity.

Everything is more pronounced.

Small things are off-putting.

You lack the ability to look far ahead.

You overly rely upon expert advice.

You require greater preparation.

You’re more drained after the activity.

Every stage is prolonged.

No matter what it is, but especially in the areas of teaching and preaching, new practitioners must be warned about the snares of unfamiliarity.

This is especially true if they are used to watching experienced veterans.

For, as it takes more time to get ready, you get rocked by the unexpected and you lack the foresight to see trouble approaching, you need a gentle reminder that your mind and body will acclimatise.

The REAL purpose of High School

Of course, the answer is to learn.

Der.

As a teacher, this SHOULD be my response.

But, as a teacher, I also know that school doesn’t work for everyone.

For some kids, learning is not the primary purpose of school.

It’s certainly not the primary result.

Frankly, it wasn’t for me.

I was more interested in hanging with my mates and having fun.

Lunch was, at least, of equal importance as any other part of the school day.

I learnt to love studying after my years in high school.

For some kids, the structures of school, don’t combine well with their personalities or upbringing.

It would be an imaginary pipe-dream to think that every high schooler had a passion for their education.

This is why I think that formal education is only a part of the point of high school.

Personally, I think that high school is a success if you discover three things.

An identity.

A tribe.

A passion.

You should leave high school with a firm idea of what you believe. What you stand up for. What you will stand against.

This is your identity.

You should leave with a group you belong to. A bunch of people who accept you. A group you find support in. 

This is your tribe.

You should leave high school with a sense of what you enjoy. What you’re good at. What interests you.

This is your passion.

Over the six years of high school, if all you leave with is a result which concluded with your final exams, then I think you’ve missed some of the most significant elements of high school.

If you depart with an identity, tribe and passion, then you’re equipped to launch into your next stage of life - even if you don’t academically achieve everything you could have.

With a firm identity, a supportive tribe and a passion to drive you, then you’re ready for the next steps of young-adulthood.

How I can teach other religions and why I want to teach them well

I’m fairly unusual.

I can wrestle aloud with the bible, the incarnation, the trinity, the way God reveals Himself and the questions surround creation, suffering and the afterlife.

I can tell you about the Four Rightly Guided Caliphs, the Quran, the Hadith, the six foundational beliefs of Islam, the Five Pillars and Islamic jurisprudence.

I can outline the Four Noble Truths, the Eightfold Path, the Tripitaka and the Five Precepts. 

As a part of my job I get to teach senior-high-school students about religion.

I get to take interested teens in a deep dive into Christianity, Islam and Buddhism (amongst others).

As a consequence, I know a fair bit about these three faiths.

I can tell you about the historical contexts, origins, expansion, founders, principal beliefs, sacred texts, ethical decision making principles and practical out-workings across three worldviews.

This makes me unusual.

Many others Christians couldn’t tell you about the any more than the very basic details of other religions.

Of course, the temptation is to be biased.

To let my personal worldview colour the way I present the alternate viewpoints.

But, I don’t.

I try to be fair.

As a foundation of my subject, I must be impartial.

My subject must be based upon understanding.

It must steer away from conversion.

And, I appreciate this.

For, I think there is nothing at all wrong about presenting faiths fairly - including Christianity.

Why?

Because I don’t want to be giving Christianity an unfair advantage which, frankly, it doesn’t need.

Christianity can stand up for itself.

Jesus can stand up for himself.

The bible can stand up for itself.

They don’t need me to defend them.

All they need is for me to be clear.

Just as I need to be for the Islamic and Buddhist faiths.

And, when presented with all the facts, I think it is a sign of faith to believe that Christianity shows itself to be trustworthy.

The fight - or classroom - doesn’t need to be rigged in its favour…

My mandatory casual teaching hacks

I was very fortunate in the breakdown of my first year in teaching.

On the back of COVID, I was employed in a school as a combined classroom teacher and a school-wide casual.

This was advantageous because it meant that I had a slightly lighter lesson load - and thus less prep in my first year - and allowed me to be exposed to casual teaching - and the important lessons it teaches fledgling teachers - in a familiar environment.

While I had the, frankly unfair, upper hand over other casual teachers since I was a staff member, there were a number of significant lessons which this unpredictable teaching schedule provided.

First, I picked up a lot of vital classroom management strategies.

The first was to use names.

Again, I had the advantage of having access to school systems, but when I began teaching I through that generic dissipations like “year 9” would suffice to get attention. 

It doesn’t.

Using names is the secret sauce.

And the best way to nail names as a casual teacher is to use the mandatory roll marking to identify students.

Ideally, if the roll has student photos attached the easier this will be, but as you mark the roll, you can insert the names of students into the blank template of the classroom.

At worst, this can be (at least in part) achieved over the course of the first activity during the lesson.

When you are armed with names, then the class runs a lot smoother.

Furthermore, the best advice I have gleaned about casual teaching is to start the lesson by writing all instructions on the board and number the things required during the lesson.

The reason for this is simple.

It is much easier to ask a student what number they are up to, or instruct them by simply using the number of the activities in the board to keep the class on track.

Better yet, if all the instructions are on the board, then you can allocate times when you either expect the, to have completed each task or when you will be going through the various activities.

Finally, all casual teachers should explicitly tell the class that they will be reporting on the lesson to the usual classroom teacher and informing the teacher precisely what work the students should have got through (which hopefully aligns with the amount of work which was left for the class).

Again, I had the advantage of being able to personally speak with the teacher if my usual summary email was not sufficient.

You must be safe but not confidential

Anyone who works with youth or the vulnerable knows that they are in a privileged position.

Hopefully, as you build relationships with the young people - no matter if they are in a classroom, church, service, tutor or coaching context - you may become someone who they feel increasingly comfortable talking with.

They may share their dreams.

Their struggles.

Their interests.

Their frustrations.

But, this must come with a significant caveat.

You are safe.

But you are not confidential.

You are an adult who they can freely talk to.

But everything cannot remain private.

And, this must be made clear upfront.

for, when it comes to issues of mandatory reporting - be they abuse, harm from others/self or neglect - these are areas when confidentiality cannot be maintained.

Of course, this should reinforce the fact that you are a safe person to confide in.

You will ensure they are safe.

And remain safe.

And this demands that some things don’t remain confidential.

Predictably is a sign of success

If you’re tying to teach something, launching a surprise shouldn’t be the aim.

In fact, the aim should be predictability.

No matter if it is in the classroom or the pulpit…

Your content should be predictable.

Your delivery should be predictable.

Your links between points should be predictable.

While I don’t want to downplay creativity or innovation, these should be the trimmings affixed to a rather orthodox lesson.

A marker that your lesson has been effective is that your listeners/students can make the connection between the segments of your lesson without significant assistance.

For, they should be able to see how your points hang together.

They should be able to see how one leads to another.

Better yet, they should be able to predict what direction your lesson or sermon is taking while you are still in the middle of delivering it.

A sign of an ineffective teacher or preacher is if they regularly take a twist that no one sees coming.

The reason is simple.

You should, for the vast majority of your teaching, be sticking to the tried and tested points and techniques.

There’s a good reason they exist.

Doing so will result in more effective lessons and, ultimately, far more retention of your content because they aren’t being rocked by a theological, intellectual or pedagogical roller coaster.

What preaching taught me about teaching

During parent/teacher interviews, I’ll readily admit that I’m the loudest, most energetic, teacher in the school.

I’m sure it’s the residual enthusiasm I had from my time in youth ministry.

I was also the loudest, most energetic, scripture teacher.

I was also fairly boisterous in the pulpit (but not over the top).

When it comes to the classroom, I subscribe to what John Wesley (supposedly) said about his preaching.

Allegedly (but probably not) Wesley stated that God, through His Spirit, would set his preaching on fire, and people - if nothing else - would come to watch him burn.

I teach in the same way.

My classes are entertaining.

They are loud.

They are often odd.

They are smattered with quirkiness.

And, hopefully, students can’t - if anything else - look away.

This is why, in some of my senior classes, I’ll pick up the odd orphaned student.

It turns out, if nothing else, that I put on a good show…

Education analogies

Pitcher/catcher.

Doctor/patient.

The pitcher wants to do his best.

The catcher needs to receive the pitch by focussing on what the pitcher is delivering.

The doctor wants what’s best for the patient.

The patient needs to follow the direction of the teacher.

This is how teaching works best.

We are the pitcher.

We are the doctor.

Our students are the catchers.

Our students are the patients.

The central point is that both teacher and student need to work in partnership.

Without both teacher and student working together, education falls apart.