During my own gap year, I learned an invaluable lesson - that I

Simon Hoggart, journalist and humorist, once reflected on a season of his youth with both humility and wit: “During my own gap year, I learned an invaluable lesson—that I was a lousy teacher. Even though the children I ‘taught,’ in upcountry Uganda, were desperate for qualifications, they largely ignored me. Until, that is, I realised that they wanted to hear about other young persons around the world.” These words shine with more than self-deprecation; they carry the wisdom that teaching is not the mere imparting of knowledge, but the art of meeting human souls where they truly hunger.

The origin of this insight lies in Hoggart’s time as a young man in Uganda, standing before students who longed for education, yet found little inspiration in the dry lessons he attempted to deliver. He discovered that his role was not to force upon them the forms of learning he had carried from England, but to listen, to understand what truly stirred their spirits. They were not ignoring him out of laziness, but because he had not yet spoken to their hearts. When he began to tell them of other young persons around the world, they awakened, for what they longed for was not simply information, but connection—a sense that their own struggles and dreams were part of a larger human story.

This truth has been revealed before in history. Consider St. Patrick, who, when he sought to teach the Irish about the Christian faith, did not impose alien abstractions upon them, but used what they knew: the shamrock, the rhythms of their land, the symbols of their culture. By beginning with what was familiar and meaningful, he opened a door to deeper truths. Like Hoggart, Patrick learned that teaching is not about the ego of the teacher, but about the needs of the learner.

The meaning of Hoggart’s words is both emotional and heroic: true teaching is not about domination, but about translation. The children in Uganda did not need him to prove himself as a great instructor; they needed him to bridge the chasm between their isolated world and the wider globe. In telling them stories of other youths, he gave them a mirror of possibility, a vision that their lives were not forgotten, that they, too, belonged to the vast fellowship of humanity. In that moment, he ceased to be a “lousy teacher” and became, instead, a true messenger.

This lesson carries weight for all who attempt to guide others. Too often, we believe that teaching lies in authority, in pouring facts into waiting minds. Yet the greater truth is that teaching is listening first, speaking second. One must discern the hunger of the student before offering food, lest the nourishment be wasted. Knowledge without relevance is a barren gift, but knowledge made alive through connection becomes seed that takes root and grows.

We may see this echoed in the story of Nelson Mandela, who, while imprisoned, did not instruct his fellow captives with lofty rhetoric, but by speaking to their immediate struggles—their dignity, their unity, their hope for freedom. In so doing, he became their teacher, though his classroom was a prison yard. Like Hoggart’s Ugandan students, they were not hungry for detached abstractions, but for words that answered their deepest human need.

The lesson for us is clear: if you would teach, lead, or inspire, do not begin with yourself—begin with those you serve. Ask what they long for, what they fear, what they dream. Shape your words not as monuments to your own knowledge, but as bridges to their experience. In family, in work, in friendship, remember that every soul hungers to feel seen and connected. To teach is not merely to inform, but to kindle recognition, to make another person feel that they are part of a greater whole.

Practically, this means cultivating empathy in all acts of communication. If you speak, let it be with an ear first tuned to others. If you guide, let it be with humility. And if you teach, whether in a classroom or in the daily exchanges of life, let it be by offering not only knowledge, but connection. For as Hoggart learned in Uganda, the power of teaching is not in the words we deliver, but in the lives we awaken.