In this first piece for Learning Threads for All, I explore a question many of us wrestle with: Why do our best efforts at teaching sometimes fall short? And more importantly, how can we teach in ways that truly connect?
Educators, parents, coaches—anyone who finds themselves in the role of mentor—often voice the same concerns: “How can I teach more effectively?” “Why isn’t my approach working?” “What’s wrong with the way I’m teaching?” These are valuable questions, especially for a starting point, because they reflect a shared experience: we all want to be better at helping others learn.
Let’s begin by examining something we often overlook: the way we try to motivate learners. Fear-based tactics are still common. Many children are told, “Study hard or you’ll end up like the garbage collector or the beggar.” Teachers warn, “Liars go to hell,” while students quietly note that even the adults around them sometimes lie for comfort or convenience. These scare tactics might work temporarily, but kids catch on. They recognize empty threats. They begin to see through the fear.
As they grow, children become more critical thinkers. They notice patterns. They remember when adults bend the truth, and they resent being manipulated. It gets worse when these young minds push back and are met with frustration or silence. Add to this the constant distraction of screens and social media, and teaching becomes even more difficult. The challenge isn’t just about content anymore—it’s about connection.
So what can we do? In my experience, meaningful teaching begins with three steps: capture attention, spark curiosity, and build trust. Only then should we dive into the subject matter.
First, capture attention. No learning can happen if the learner isn’t paying attention. And yet, so many teachers jump straight into content without earning that first moment of interest. Learners often arrive expecting boredom. So break that expectation. Surprise them. Don’t be afraid to be playful. Once, I brought a Russian nesting doll to class and placed it on my desk. Without saying a word, students were already curious. Then I asked, “Who wants to see the bicycle—or the elephant—inside this little doll?” They laughed, leaned in, and paid attention. At the end of the lesson, I opened the final doll to reveal a tiny elephant. That metaphor for layered learning stuck. And yes—it worked, even with my college students at U.P. Diliman.
There are countless ways to catch attention. Dress with flair. Smell good. Wear eye-catching glasses or shoes. Let your outfit be a talking point. Use it to segue into your lesson. Just don’t rush it. Let curiosity build.
Next, spark curiosity. Attention may get your foot in the door, but curiosity keeps the conversation going. The key? Make yourself and your topic interesting. Share stories—your hobbies, your past mistakes, your personal quirks. Whether you once skydived, collected vintage toys, or learned to skateboard at 40, your stories humanize you. They don’t need to be directly tied to the lesson—they just need to be real.
Consider Socrates. Unlike Plato, he wasn’t conventionally handsome, but he was endlessly fascinating. He claimed to know nothing but asked questions that revealed deep truths. He talked about wrestling, drank wine with students, and let them do most of the talking. Centuries later, his influence remains.
In my classes, I ask questions like, “Is what we see always what it seems?” or “Can we really trust our eyes?” When students know their answers will be taken seriously, they open up. I might ask, “Do you believe in magic?” If they say no, even better. I’ll perform a few tricks—coin bites, linking rings, card illusions. And suddenly, I have their full attention. That’s when I introduce abstract concepts like epistemology or metaphysics. I never start with the theory. I lead them there—with wonder.
Then, build a real connection. This isn’t just feel-good advice—it’s backed by educational philosophy and neuroscience. Emotional safety is essential for learning. When students feel anxious or judged, they shut down. But when they feel seen and safe, they engage. In some schools, classical music plays in the hallways to reduce stress. You don’t need Mozart, but you do need warmth.
Create a space where learners feel welcomed—not caged. Let students introduce themselves. Listen carefully. Remember what they share. Show up to their games or performances. Play ball with them if you can. Some of my most unforgettable teachers were also our coaches and teammates.
And this works outside the classroom, too. Senior coworkers can talk about their own learning struggles. Parents can ask kids about anime, manga, or K-pop. You’ll be surprised at how much learners are willing to share when they sense your curiosity is sincere.
Students don’t connect with distant authority figures. They open up to people who feel human.
Finally, only after those three steps, introduce your subject matter. Yes, it takes time. But the alternative—relying on silence, sarcasm, or discipline—isn’t sustainable. That may work on machines. Not on people.
Three films come to mind: Like Stars on Earth, 3 Idiots, and I Not Stupid Too. Each one shows how learning flourishes—or falters—depending on the strength of the teacher-learner connection.
Of course, strong content knowledge is still essential. But it’s not enough. Without attention, curiosity, and connection, even the best lesson plans fall flat. Teaching isn’t just about what you know—it’s about how well you invite others into that knowledge.
When we begin with presence, playfulness, and trust, we create conditions where real learning takes root—and flourishes.
Mike Muega, Ph.D. teaches with a magician’s flair, a philosopher’s questions, and a coach’s heart. He believes the best lessons start with curiosity—and sometimes a little wonder.
