When I first stepped into the classroom, I was full of energy, armed with lesson plans and an idealistic sense of control. I had a strong grasp of my subject matter and a clear sense of how things should go. Back then, I thought of teaching as primarily delivering content—and managing behavior.
With time, and many, many students later, I’ve realized how much teaching changes you. And how age, rather than slowing me down in a negative sense, has actually opened up space—for reflection, for patience, and most importantly, for connection. In many ways, aging has made teaching a more spiritual experience—less about control and more about presence, openness, and compassion.
From Performance to Presence
In the early years, I moved fast. I was eager to cover every point, every chapter. I felt the need to “prove” I was in charge, that I knew my material (which I did), and that the class had a clear direction.
What I didn’t yet understand was how much more powerful it is to slow down—to pause for student questions, to allow for side discussions that turn out to be deeply meaningful, and to make space for silence, or noise! With age came a comfort in letting go of performance and embracing presence. I don’t need to “fill the air” anymore. I trust the process—and trust that real learning sometimes comes in the quiet moments.
Spirituality, for me, is deeply tied to that trust: the belief that something meaningful can arise when we open our hearts and allow space.
Seeing Students More Clearly
One of the biggest shifts is how I saw my students. As a young teacher, I was focused on delivering content and assessing understanding. Now, I find myself far more curious about who my students are as people—what brings them to the classroom, what fears they carry, what strengths they don’t even know they have.
I also understand now that students aren’t just absorbing information—they’re often trying to make sense of their lives. Teaching, for me, has become as much about creating a space where students feel seen as it is about learning outcomes.
There’s something sacred about this work. When I open my own heart to my students’ experiences, I see that the classroom can be a place of healing—not just intellectual growth. That shift didn’t come from a workshop or a textbook. It came with time, and with a deeper sense of spiritual connection to others.
From Hierarchy to Human Connection
I’ll admit, early in my career I drew pretty clear lines between myself and my students. I was the teacher. They were the learners. There was some warmth, but also a bit of distance.
That’s shifted too. I now find myself more open to genuine, human relationships with my students. While I maintain professional boundaries, I also laugh with them, share stories, and sometimes even stay in touch long after the class ends. I’ve become more comfortable with being real—and more receptive to their realness, too.
In many ways, the walls I used to keep up have softened. And that softening has made space for more connection, more growth—for them and for me. I’ve come to believe that education works best when it includes the heart.
Focusing on Strengths and Shifting Perspectives
Perhaps the most profound change has been how I approach student potential. I used to look more at what students lacked: weak writing, poor test performance, low participation. Now, I begin with what they bring—curiosity, resilience, lived experience, insight—and build from there.
I’ve learned to help students reframe how they see themselves and the subject matter. When a student says, “I’ve never been good at this,” I don’t brush it off. I slow down, ask questions, and find a way in that makes sense for them. Helping students shift their own perspective—on a subject, on learning, on their own capability—is the most rewarding part of what I do.
When we can shift perspective, we open hearts and change worlds —sometimes even our own.
Aging as a Gift in the Classroom
Being an older teacher meant I brught stories, scars, and a wider lens. It meant I’ve seen students succeed after setbacks, and I’ve seen myself grow through challenges I never anticipated. I no longer feel the need to have all the answers. I ask better questions now. I leave more room for student voices.
It also means I’ve had the chance to think more deeply about the why behind my teaching—not just the how. For me, that “why” has become rooted in connection, care, and shared humanity. That’s a kind of spirituality I carry into my work, even if it’s never named aloud.
Teaching through the decades has been less about perfecting a method and more about deepening a relationship—with students, with the material, and with the meaning behind it all.
I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
