Contributor Tasneem Tazikia
There is a quiet strength beneath the surface of every school.
You won’t find it in course guides, and you won’t find it on standardized tests. This is the power of teachers: the invisible and enduring force that brings classrooms, communities, and futures together. Teachers are often praised for what they do, but rarely for the ways in which they go unnoticed.
Their impact reaches far beyond the confines of the classroom into the hearts, homes, and lives of students, and they continue to teach long after the school year is over. I taught high school science for several years in a public school that served a beautifully diverse community—students came to school every morning with stories, words, and dreams that didn’t always fit neatly into the curriculum.
My classroom is filled with the energy of ninth grade students who discovered the structure of the atom, mixed chemicals for the first time, and learned that curiosity can speak louder than fear.
Start each day with a quick warm-up question on Blackboard, some that spark connections:
“What is one thing in nature that you wish you could understand better?”
Their answers, from “Why is lightning zigzag” to “How do plants know that direction is up?” influence our discussions more than any textbook. I use project-based learning, hands-on inquiry, and visual models to make chemistry real—turning abstract ideas into experiences that students can touch and ask questions about.
To me, teaching equals science and storytelling. It aims to design lessons that go beyond formulas, linking molecular reactions to students’ own adaptability and creativity. Whether it’s guiding them through a lab that went wrong or encouraging them to rewrite their learning narrative, every moment becomes an opportunity to remind them that errors are data, not failures.
Still, no amount of planning or creativity can prepare you for the moments that truly redefine what it means to teach
The moment that changed my perspective on teaching
I will never forget a student named Jaylen. His answers were smart, his reactions were quick, and his arguments were sharp, but after a tough year at home, he built a wall around himself. He stopped turning in homework and began sitting quietly in the back of the room, distracted and defiant.
One afternoon, instead of lecturing him about missed assignments, I asked another question: “What would make school feel like it’s worth showing up again?”
This simple question opens a door. Over the next few weeks, Jalen began sharing project ideas related to his interests, designing sneakers and exploring how geometry could be applied to shoe patterns. I adapted the curriculum to let him create, design and analyze. Slowly, his confidence returned. A few months later, he told me, “You make me feel like my ideas matter.”
That moment reminded me that teaching is about more than delivering content; It’s about regaining confidence in learning and in yourself.
Beyond content knowledge
Teachers are not just imparters of knowledge; They are builders of courage and curiosity. The lessons students remember most are rarely about formulas or historical dates, but about teachers who made them feel capable, valued, and valued. The invisible power of teachers lies in their ability to turn empathy into action: noticing a quiet student, rethinking a rigid plan, or extending grace to a child when they need it most.
These small acts of connection have an impact that extends far beyond the moment. They show students that education is more than a set of answers but a relationship built on trust and humanity.
The emotional and moral labor of teaching
Teachers have invisible jobs that few see every day. They absorb students’ fears, frustrations, and hopes while maintaining stability and compassion. They teach through personal challenges, policy shifts, moments of doubt, and yet still find ways to encourage others.
This endurance is not accidental but an emotional labor rooted in caring. It can transform classrooms into safe spaces where students feel brave enough to ask questions, make mistakes, and grow. Teachers must not only manage behavior but also model empathy, patience, and moral courage in real time.
invisible ripple effect
Years after Jalen left my class, he sent me an email from college. He majored in industrial design and wrote, “You were the first person to tell me that I could create something important.”
His message is a powerful reminder that the real results of teaching often come long after the bell rings. A teacher’s impact is measured not by test scores but by the quiet persistence, creativity, and compassion that students bring into the world.
Teaching is a generational job. It shapes the kind of thinkers, neighbors, and leaders people become. The invisible labor of today’s teachers may impact tomorrow’s lives for decades.
Why it’s important to see the invisible
In an era when education is often reduced to metrics, the definition of excellent teaching remains largely unknown. The ability to connect deeply, spark curiosity, meet diverse needs—these are human strengths, not digital data points. Recognizing this invisible power is not just an act of appreciation, it is an act of truth.
To fully value education, we must value teachers’ humanity, empathy, adaptability, and quiet resilience. Their work is not just instructive, but fundamental to the well-being and progress of society itself.
A call to see the unseen
Every teacher has a story like Jaylen’s. Sometimes, students never come back to say thank you, but the impact is there, woven into who they become. The power of a teacher lies not in perfection, but in making choices every day, believing in the possibility of growth and the power of connection.
Teaching may not always feel visible, but it is always vital. Its power lies in those unseen moments that change everything.
