The moment we believe we have figured it all out is often the moment our naivety begins to show. From birth, we are wired to explore, to become attuned to our senses, and to ask “why” again and again until the answers grow tired. Yet somewhere along the way, many of us trade curiosity for certainty, and choose one identity, one perspective, or one way of thinking to carry for the rest of our lives.
But life does not work that way.
The only constant in life is change. The way math is taught evolves. The world students grow up in shifts. What once made sense expands. What once stirred excitement, fear, or sadness may no longer affect us in the same way. What once felt true may deepen, stretch, or change completely. In that constant state of motion, curiosity becomes not just a beautiful trait, but a necessary one.
When we remain curious about the task in front of us, even when it feels intimidating, we remain open to new understanding. And that understanding can spark a lightbulb moment, shift a perspective, or redirect a path entirely.
This is one of the values I care deeply about passing on to students.
When curiosity is present, the words “I can’t” begin to fade. In their place come questions. A student starts to see that they are not simply waiting for answers to appear. They are participating in the process of finding them. They begin to recognize that they play a role in building the wall between themselves and understanding, and that they also have the power to begin taking that wall apart.
Curiosity also invites humility. It reminds us that there is always more to learn. With that openness, the stream of knowledge flows more freely. Without it, we create blockages: rigid beliefs, assumptions, and limitations that quietly keep us from our highest potential.
As a teacher, I try to embody this idea every day. I work with students from many different backgrounds, beliefs, skill levels, and ways of learning. Each child brings a unique perspective to the conversation, one that deserves not only to be heard, but to be genuinely considered. In many ways, students are mirrors. They reflect new ways of thinking that can challenge even my own understanding.
Every child carries natural strengths alongside areas for growth, and both are constantly shifting. No strategy works forever. No label defines a student permanently. Teaching, like learning, is dynamic. It requires observation, adaptability, and above all, curiosity.
What works for this student today? What are they trying to communicate beneath the surface? How can I meet them where they are, rather than where I expect them to be?
Those questions matter. They keep teaching alive, responsive, and human.
Beyond the classroom, curiosity shapes the way we move through the world. It softens judgment and makes room for empathy. It deepens connection. It strengthens our relationship with ourselves, with others, and with the world around us. It turns ordinary moments into opportunities for discovery.
My teaching style reflects this virtue and many others. I strive not only to educate, but also to guide future generations with care, attentiveness, and heart. At the same time, I remain inspired by the wonder that so many students naturally carry. Their openness reminds me that curiosity is not something we outgrow. It is something we protect.
To stay curious is to stay alive to learning.
“Curiouser and curiouser.”
— Inspired by Alice in Wonderland, and by Kip of Voltaire, the Ocean Beach legend. Rest in peace.
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