There is a quiet, persistent pressure in society that defines a successful career by standard markers: a predictable ladder to climb, and a steady monthly pay cheque. A decade ago, I chose a different path. To take care of my small daughter, I took up work only as a guest faculty member, a decision that gave me the flexibility to be present for my child while also allowing me to dedicate time to preparing for Balvikas and Education in Human Values (EHV) classes.
At the time, I thought I was simply adjusting my schedule to balance motherhood and teaching. I did not realize that I was entering a crucible of profound personal introspection.
The Mirror of the Classroom
Teaching values to young, impressionable minds is a beautiful experience, but it carries a weight that standard academic subjects do not. When you teach math or science, you pass on data. When you teach values like truth, righteousness, peace, and love, you are passing on a way of being.
In the beginning, a humbling pattern began to emerge. I would stand in front of my students or spend hours preparing lesson plans on patience, honesty, or humility. But later that day, in the mundane rushes of ordinary life or taking a shortcut in my duties, a quiet, sharp inner voice would speak up.
“You just spoke about patience to those children. Are you following it?”
“You taught them about truth. Were you entirely transparent?”
“You taught them about truth. Were you entirely transparent?”
Every single time I personally slithered or fell short of a value I advocated for, that inner voice would clearly prompt me. It was an uncomfortable, vulnerable feeling. It is one thing to fail a standard you set for yourself; it is entirely another to fail a standard you publicly preach to children.
The Question That Changed Everything
As time passed, my dedication to the curriculum caught the attention of the institution. I was given the role of Education Coordinator, and eventually, I was appointed as the Head of the Department of Value Education.
With this role, regularly came waves of intense self-doubt: What gives me the deservedness to talk about values? Who am I to lead a department dedicated to human excellence when I know my own flaws?
For a while, the responsibility felt heavier than the role.
I realized that the universe hadn't chosen me because I was a perfect embodiment of absolute virtue. It had placed me in this role because I needed to practice the values. Now I was willing to let the values change me. The question changed from "Why me?" to: If I am going to talk about values, I must live them.
Teaching Values cause us to Live Values
The very role that caused my imposter syndrome became my saving grace. The transition from teaching values was making me live them .... incrementally, fueled by the daily accountability of my position.
Knowing that I was responsible for an entire department meant I could no longer treat values as a syllabus to complete. They had to become my lifestyle. The inner voice that used to feel like a strict critic slowly turned into a trusted guide, steering my daily interactions, my parenting, and my choices toward greater alignment and integrity.
Looking back, stepping away from a "regular" job was a redirection. Value education doesn't happen on a blackboard or in a textbook. It happens in the quiet, honest moments when we choose to become the very message we teach.
Everyone should teach value education. It will bring in the commitment to live life with truth, with integrity.
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