ഇനി എത്ര ദൂരം

           

The Beauty of Being Human: Why We Should Stop Trying to Be Perfect

 

There is an unwritten rule many teachers feel the moment they stand in front of a class: you must look like you have it all figured out. You feel you need flawless notes, smooth slides, instant answers to every question, and absolute confidence. We try hard to look like experts who never make mistakes.

For a long time, many of us fall into this trap. We stay up late worrying about minor formatting errors in our presentations. We panic when we don’t immediately know the answer to a tricky question. We treat every small slip-up as proof that we aren’t good enough at our jobs.

The truth is, real learning almost never happens in a stiff, picture-perfect room.

     Think about the college days that you actually remember. It is almost never the routine lecture where a teacher read through neat slides from start to finish. What we remember are the unplanned, messy moments. It’s the day the projector stopped working, so the teacher gathered everyone around the board to talk freely. It’s the time a student asked a hard question, and the lecturer simply smiled and said, "Honestly, I’m not sure. Let’s look into it together." It’s the funny slip of the tongue that made the whole room laugh together.

In those simple moments, the classroom stops feeling like a formal presentation. It starts feeling like a shared conversation between real people.

When teachers try to act completely flawless, we accidentally build a wall between ourselves and our students. A teacher who seems to know everything without any effort can feel intimidating. For a young student who is already nervous, doubtful of their abilities, or struggling with new concepts, a "perfect" teacher can make them feel inadequate. It sends an unintended message: If my teacher never struggles, then my mistakes mean I don't belong here.

In our classrooms, we constantly tell students that mistakes are a normal part of learning. We tell them that getting an answer wrong is okay, and that stumbling is how you grow. Yet, as mentors, we rarely give ourselves that same kindness. We put huge pressure on ourselves to be walking encyclopedias, forgetting that honesty and openness connect people far better than acting like we never get anything wrong.

Showing our real, imperfect selves has a powerful effect. When a teacher makes a small mistake on the board, catches it, and laughs it off, the whole atmosphere changes. The tension in the room melts away. Students relax. Without saying a word, that simple reaction tells the entire room: It is safe to try, safe to make mistakes, and safe to learn here.

Holding onto perfectionism also wears us down. Faculty life is busy. There are lesson plans, student evaluations, paperwork, research, and personal responsibilities to juggle. When we demand perfection from ourselves, every single day feels like an exhausting test. We might ignore ninety-nine things that went right just to beat ourselves up over one email we forgot to send or one point we explained awkwardly.

Accepting that we are not perfect doesn’t mean being lazy or lowering our academic standards. Doing our research, preparing well, and caring about our work will always matter. But letting go of perfection means understanding that our value doesn't come from being flawless.

There is a traditional craft where broken pottery is put back together using gold. Instead of hiding the cracks, the gold highlights them, making the broken object even more valuable and interesting than it was before.

Our work as teachers is very similar. The real goal of teaching isn’t to deliver a cold, mechanical speech from behind a podium. It is to step down, connect with students where they are, and show them how to handle questions and challenges with curiosity, honesty, and calm. When we drop the heavy burden of trying to be perfect, we give ourselves room to breathe—and we give our students the space to do the same.

 Liyana Fathima V. P., Assistant Professor of Nutrition and Dietetics, Al Shifa College of Arts and Science, Keezhattur, Perinthalmanna.