A teacher is never too smart to learn from his pupils. But while

Bill Bowerman, the legendary coach and craftsman of champions, once spoke with wisdom that reaches beyond the track: “A teacher is never too smart to learn from his pupils. But while runners differ, basic principles never change. So it’s a matter of fitting your current practices to fit the event and the individual. See, what’s good for you might not be worth a darn for the next guy.” In these words lies the essence of both humility and mastery: that teaching is not a rigid imposition, but a living exchange, and that while truth has foundations that do not shift, its expression must bend to the shape of each soul.

Bowerman reminds us first of the humility of the true teacher. For arrogance blinds, but humility sees. The one who teaches yet refuses to learn is like a stagnant pool: clear at first, but soon clouded. Yet the teacher who listens to the pupil is like a flowing river, always refreshed, always renewed. Knowledge does not flow in one direction alone. Wisdom grows in the meeting of minds, as fire is kindled by the striking of stones. Even the greatest master may be corrected, refined, or inspired by the insights of the novice.

Yet Bowerman also speaks of the eternal principles that govern life, sport, and spirit. Just as gravity binds the heavens, so discipline, patience, and practice bind the path of every runner. These truths do not change. They are the roots beneath the tree, unseen yet unyielding. To ignore them is to invite ruin. But within those unchanging principles lies infinite variation — for every runner differs, every body carries its own rhythm, every soul its own fire. The master teacher, then, must apply eternal truths with a hand both firm and flexible.

History offers us luminous examples. Consider Aristotle, tutor of Alexander. He taught the principles of philosophy, logic, and ethics, yet did not impose a single mold upon his pupil. He adapted, channeling the restless ambition of the young prince into a vision of kingship and conquest. The principle was steady, but the method was fluid. Alexander’s flame was not that of the philosopher but of the warrior; Aristotle did not extinguish it but directed it, and the world itself was transformed. This is the art Bowerman reveals: to hold truth steady while shaping its use to the individual.

Bowerman himself lived this wisdom. He coached countless athletes, each with their own bodies, limits, and temperaments. He did not decree that one training method fit all. He studied, adjusted, and sometimes learned more from the runners than they from him. Out of this living exchange arose not only champions, but also the very spirit of Nike, born from his understanding that innovation is forged in the dialogue between master and student, between principle and person. The shoe itself became a parable: a common foundation, yet fitted uniquely to each foot.

Thus the teaching is clear: what strengthens one may weaken another. The diet that nourishes one body may poison another; the practice that enlightens one spirit may discourage another. The truth does not vanish, but its path changes shape. To be wise is to discern not only the law that binds us all, but the difference that makes each of us unique. This is the harmony between unity and diversity, between the eternal and the personal.

What, then, must you do? As a teacher, approach your students with humility. Listen, for they carry wisdom hidden even from themselves. As a student, do not be ashamed if your path differs; the measure of truth is not uniformity, but growth. And as a seeker of wisdom, hold fast to the unchanging principles: discipline, honesty, patience, compassion. Yet do not force them upon others in rigid form; adapt them to the life before you, as the craftsman adapts the tool to the task.

So let Bowerman’s voice echo like a coach’s call across the field of time: a teacher is never beyond learning, and truth is never beyond variation. Honor the principles, respect the differences, and in this balance you shall find both strength and wisdom. For what fits one soul may not fit another, but what endures is the foundation — and the courage to shape it anew for each life you touch.