Reflective Practice: Teaching from Both Sides

My daughter Kate and I, with our three distracted dogs.

Recently, after enjoying a delicious Chinese food dinner with my family, I cracked open my fortune cookie to read the message inside: "the best teacher is also a student". That simple line caused me to reflect on my own return to the classroom as a master’s student, and how stepping back into the role of learner reshaped the way I understand teaching. I’ve worked as a designer for decades. I’ve taught design at the Alberta University of the Arts (formerly ACAD) to hundreds of students, built curricula, led critiques, and fielded questions I could answer in my sleep. I thought I understood what I was doing, inside and out. Then I became a student again in my 50s. Teaching from the front of the room isn’t the same as sitting in the seats. With enough time in front of the class, you forget what it felt like to be uncertain, or how awkward it was to raise your hand and ask, “Can you explain that again?” The most effective teachers remember that experience and stay attuned to the vulnerability of being a learner.

When I attended my first graduate branding seminar in the Masters of Branding program at the School of Visual Arts (online, as a hybrid student) I felt that odd combination of excitement and unease you only get when entering into unfamiliar territory. The syllabus was dense and ambitious. So many courses! So much reading! So many projects!  I found myself Googling industry jargon I’d somehow missed over the years, and more than once I considered the strategic merit of just being a quiet online student (those who know me also know this is not possible). I also discovered early on that I was way behind in tech (Miro, Figma, Capcut, LLM, Midjourney – huh?).

Being a student again has recalibrated my empathy. When I see a student in my own classes hesitating before sharing an idea, I will no longer think, Just speak up! I will think about my own hesitation and fear as a student, sitting in a critique, wondering if my insight would land or just expose what I didn’t know and make me look foolish. Empathy is contagious, but so is vulnerability. Without vulnerability, there is no courage.

I had forgotten about the joy of new ideas, the kind that come from a beginner’s mind. Learning new concepts with younger, smarter classmates who approach design and strategy problems from wildly different perspectives has reminded me that expertise can be a double-edged sword. It sharpens your skills but can narrow your view. As a perpetual student, I’m rediscovering the thrill of asking “What if?” and “Yes, and…” without immediately calculating the risks.

Speaking of risks, I’ve also reacquainted myself with the fear of failure. It’s not a pleasant feeling, no one likes turning in work they’re not sure about, but it is oddly energizing. It forced me to push harder, to be braver, to remind myself that creativity thrives in the space where comfort ends. The anxiety of making mistakes is a reminder to normalize failure in the classroom or studio. That’s a lesson I can’t just preach anymore; I have to live it.

Most importantly, going back to school has deepened my belief that teaching is a reciprocal relationship and a reflective practice. Every question from a classmate, every challenge from a professor, every unexpected detour in a project are all shaping me into a better designer and educator because teaching is "knowing-in-practice" (Donald A. Schön,"The Reflective Practitioner", 1983), a form of learning in real time. I’m quicker to admit when I don’t know something. I’m more curious about how people arrive at their solutions. I’m less concerned with having the “right” answer and more interested in the next question.

In branding, we often talk about authenticity, how the strongest brands live the purpose they share with the world. As a teacher (leader, parent, woman, human), I want my students and others in my life to see that learning never stops. Going back to school was my way of practicing what I teach: that learning is a lifelong pursuit. With that chapter complete, I’m heading into my next adventure: expanding my career and creative expression in new ways.