Someone recently said to me, “You should teach this—you’re so good at it.”
It was meant as a compliment. And I received it that way, with warmth and appreciation. But the thought lingered, as I mentioned in last week’s On My Mind Monday post, I Don’t Want to Be an Expert. That twist in my stomach wasn’t discomfort with the comment itself—it was the beginning of a question I haven’t been able to shake. And today, I want to explore it a little more.
Because I have been a teacher most of my life. In classrooms, online, one-on-one. Teaching comes naturally to me. It always has. So why does that invitation—to step into the teacher role again—bring up resistance now?
I think it’s because something in me has shifted.
From Step-by-Step to Something Else
When I first started sharing online, especially on YouTube, I brought all my teacher instincts with me. I made clear tutorials. I broke things down. I wanted people to learn something useful, something they could apply.
And it felt good. It was familiar. I was doing what I knew how to do.
But over time, that structure started to feel a little too tight. I noticed that I was explaining things before I really understood them myself. I was turning discoveries into frameworks too quickly. I was prioritizing clarity over curiosity.
It wasn’t wrong—but it wasn’t where I wanted to stay.
These days, my YouTube videos look very different. They’re less about how-to, and more about what if? They follow my creative process instead of laying out a linear plan. They reflect how I actually think and work: in loops, questions, half-formed thoughts.
And here on the blog, too, I’ve given myself permission to write as I explore—not as an expert, but as someone figuring it out in real time.
The Cost of Always Teaching
Teaching is a gift. But it also carries a certain pressure. When you’re always trying to be clear, helpful, and prepared, you can lose some of the messy magic of making.
For me, that magic lives in unfinished projects, shifting ideas, and moments of doubt. It lives in the space between not knowing and maybe-knowing.
When everything becomes a lesson, that space shrinks.
And more importantly—when you teach too early, you sometimes teach from the surface. From what you can articulate, not from what’s still unfolding inside you.
What I’m Learning by Not Teaching
Pulling back from the tutorial mindset has been its own kind of education.
I’ve learned that not every project needs to become content. That sometimes, it’s okay to let something stay private, or incomplete, or even confusing.
I’ve learned that sharing my questions often leads to deeper connection than sharing my answers.
And I’ve learned that teaching doesn’t always look like a lesson plan. Sometimes, it looks like being honest about where you are.
That’s what I’m trying to do here.
I haven’t stopped being a teacher. But I’m learning to teach more gently, more slowly, and only when the time feels right.
Not everything I do has to become a lesson. Sometimes it’s enough just to be present with what I’m exploring.
A Question for You
If you’re someone who teaches—officially or unofficially—I wonder:
What would you create differently if you didn’t have to explain it?
What might you try if you didn’t have to be good at it yet?
This is still a space for learning. But maybe not the kind that ends in a checklist or a course. It’s a space where the learning is quieter, more personal—where the learner and the lesson are still taking shape at the same time.
Maybe it’s the kind of learning that grows slowly, sideways, like roots.
And maybe that’s enough.
