Why I Loathe the word Teacher...

When I was young, I had this optimistic idea that becoming a teacher would allow me to shape the lives of children. I believed I could influence their world somehow… make a difference.

Not much more than a child myself, I threw my graduation cap into the air - fresh out of university with a piece of paper that told the world I was ready. That I knew everything I needed to know to teach children. I was qualified.

And then I landed my first job as a teacher… and fell flat on my face.

For ten years I struggled through, trying so hard to tick the boxes, follow the curriculum, and deliver the programs that parents and schools said were ‘right.’ On the surface, I was doing everything a teacher should do - but deep down, I felt like I was failing. I longed to feel ‘in control’ of this role I had taken on. I longed to finally step into my vision - my hope for a better world.

There were many moments of despair during this time, and I declared loudly (more than once) that I would never go back to teaching.

And it was during one of these moments of absolute certainty - that teaching was not for me - that I stumbled across a different way of working with children… and began to glimpse what this role could look like. Something deeper, richer, and more alive than anything I’d learned at university.

Back then, whispers of Emergent Curriculum and Reggio Emilia were just beginning to surface. This was before they became the buzzwords they are today.

Thanks to some inspiring mentors, a passionate fire was lit in me - one that fiercely advocated for the professionalism of Early Childhood Teachers, and the critical importance of their work for children, families, and communities. That work does deserve advocacy.

Over the two decades that followed, I went deeper. I observed more attentively. I listened more closely. I became a student of relationships.

Relationships between children and other children. Between children and the natural world. Between children and parents. Between educators and educators. Between communities and the services that support them. Most importantly, I became fascinated by the relationship each person has with themselves.

Patterns began to emerge. Stories. Themes. Recurring dynamics playing out across all kinds of relationships.

And with this deepening understanding, I found myself increasingly resistant to the words Teacher and Educator - especially for those working with young people.

There’s been a lot of debate about this language within the education space. For me, the terms Teacher and Educator have become interchangeable. Both imply the same idea: a person, with formal training, imparting knowledge and skills within a structured curriculum.

And that, to me, is where the problem begins.

To impart knowledge suggests the person already has the knowledge. That they are an expert. That they hold the truth. That they are the authority - handing it down to someone deemed less knowledgeable.

It implies the student is an empty vessel to be filled, moulded, conditioned to comply with some external version of truth.

Sound familiar?

We see this model relentlessly played out in our schools.

And every cell in my body rejects the idea that this is what’s needed for children to learn - and to love learning - in a healthy, holistic way.

Of course, there are times when this kind of teacher-student relationship can be useful. When we want to seek guidance from someone with more experience or skill. But context is everything.

The model of education we’ve grown to accept - where the teacher is elevated as the ultimate authority and learning flows top-down - is not helping our young people become whole, healthy adults.

In fact, it’s doing the opposite.

You don’t have to look far to see the rapidly rising rates of mental health challenges in young people. These are not isolated cases. They are symptoms - glaring signs of a system that’s no longer supporting the people it claims to serve.

So what’s the alternative?

How do we shift the narrative? How do we reimagine the relationship between ‘teacher’ and ‘learner’?

We begin by unlearning.

We begin by unpacking and unravelling our beliefs and assumptions about the adult-child dynamic. By taking a hard look at what we find. Reframing. Rebuilding. Renaming.

Because these roles - the ones chosen with such good intent, to help children reach their full potential - need a new foundation.

So how do we show up in a way that truly supports young people?

Maybe it begins with relationship.

Maybe it begins with fostering authentic connection - with each other, with the earth, with the more-than-human world.

Maybe it asks us to honour each human as innately capable. As wise. As already whole.

To create spaces where this innate competence is nourished. Where every person is both a guide and guided. A master and apprentice. Where there is no hierarchy. No dominance. Just deep respect and reciprocal learning.

Maybe language can lead us… and the word Mentor offers a way forward.

Dating back over 3,000 years, to Homer’s Odyssey, Mentor holds deep archetypal energy - symbolising the one who awakens the potential within. Who draws out inner wisdom. Who honours personal power and sovereignty.

Viewed this way, Mentoring becomes an art form.

A sacred practice. A gift we offer one another, regardless of age.

It becomes a way of walking together that invites growth, truth, and transformation - not through force or instruction, but through presence, trust, and relationship.

When we embody the role of Mentor, we begin to show up differently.

Not just with children and young people. But with life itself.

We become co-learners. Walking side by side. Knowledge and wisdom shared in reciprocity. Not competition. Not performance. Not power-over, but power-with.

Mentoring becomes a way of being - an ongoing journey that honours the beauty, complexity, and wonder of being human… together.

Exploring nature's wonders together at bush school, a mentor guides a young learner in hands-on discovery.