Who is the Heartbeat of Our “People Industries?”

The older I get, the more amazed I am by the people in “people”  industries. The largest of which might appear to be medical doctors or federal government workers. But in reality, it is our teachers who touch the most lives of our population, especially the teachers in public schools across our country and world. The ones who show up every morning with coffee on their breath, a computer and badge in hand, and a room full of kids ready for them, all of whom need something different to make it through the day. Our teachers are the ones who carry more than lesson plans, they carry patience, and flexibility, and a quiet kind of hope that learning still matters. That dreams do come true with nurturing guidance. That purpose begins in the classroom.

All children, who are our students, need structure. I believe that deeply. But structure doesn’t mean the same thing for everyone. It truly doesn’t look the same twice over. For some kids, it looks like clear rules and routines outlined on charters. For others, it looks like grace with a little extra time on a math problem. And some simply just need someone to notice when today is just harder than yesterday. The best teachers understand this without making it a big deal. They create classrooms that feel steady but never stiff or stubborn. They make classrooms, those little brick built environments, places where kids can breathe, move, grow, experiment, and still feel held and supported. 

That kind of structure changes everything, especially for a child. It keeps the classroom flowing. It makes school feel less scary and more inviting. When students feel safe, they start to love learning, not because they’re told to, but because it feels good to be curious in a space where you’re allowed to be authentic in that curiosity. That love can start in kindergarten and carry someone all the way through their graduation of their highest degree, long after they’ve forgotten specific lessons and formulas, rules of grammar and proper pronunciation, but they remember what truly matters. As a student myself, I can say that some of these things are structure, like I’ve mentioned, but also kindness and respect coming from my teachers and produced in classrooms. 

I was reminded of this by watching my mom this past week.

I grew up watching her teach first and now fifth grade, and even today, it still amazes me: her “glide”. She doesn’t need to be loud to be in charge. She doesn’t need fear to earn respect. She leads with calmness, with kindness, with a steady confidence that makes her classroom feel like it knew exactly what it was doing all on its own, with presence, even, and especially on the messy days.

Her students, I could tell, felt seen by her. They made eye contact. They asked questions. They were a community of their own, first built by her. She had this way of gently commanding a room, as I call it: her “glide.” Or more so her rhythm, like being up there in front of twenty 10-year-olds is just really her thing. She yielded no aspect of control, but instead portrayed understanding. Every routine, every expectation, felt intentional, not to restrict her students, but again, to support them.

What’s most beautiful is that she’s always been this way. Teaching, it’s not just her job; it’s how she lives. How she raised me and my brother. She listens. She conversates clearly. She notices. She remembers. She believes in people even when they don’t believe in themselves yet. And watching her these past few days has made me realize that some people are just born to teach. Maybe not because they know everything or are an expert in child development and studied student needs, but because they know how to make others feel capable. They know how to empower. 

Now, as a young adult, I look back and feel nothing but awe and pride. Awe for her work. Awe for all teachers who do this every day, often without recognition or gratitude, yet somehow always with heart. Pride for the whispers in my ear who tell me she is amazing, almost as if I didn’t already know. Pride that she is my mom, and I don’t have to move up a grade level, say goodbye to her, and hope for another teacher like her after just one year. 

Our teachers shape how students see education, how they see themselves, and how they see their futures. Teachers are the reason so many of us grow to and thrive in our love for learning. They are the reason school can feel like the possibility hub it is, instead of the pressure factory it sometimes masquerades as.

And if you’re lucky enough to witness it up close, to grow up watching someone calmly, kindly change lives, one child at a time, like I did with my mom, who has done this now every year for my whole life. You will never stop being amazed. You will live in awe for the people in “people” industries that keep the world turning for its inhabitants.