You really have to be a morning person if you want to be a

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the words of Alanna Ubach, who spoke with both humor and truth: “You really have to be a morning person if you want to be a teacher.” Though lighthearted in tone, these words conceal a profound lesson. For to be a teacher is not merely to stand before a class, but to awaken minds, to kindle curiosity, to bear the weight of responsibility before the sun itself has fully risen. The teacher is called not only to rise from sleep, but to rise in spirit, ready to meet the day with patience, strength, and love.

The morning is a symbol of beginnings. It is the hour when the world is renewed, when light dispels darkness, when possibilities unfold. The teacher must be like the dawn, greeting weary students with energy, with hope, with clarity. To falter in the morning is to weaken the whole day’s foundation. Thus, Ubach reminds us that to teach well is to embrace the discipline of rising early, not only in body but in heart. The teacher’s morning is not about convenience; it is about sacrifice for the sake of others’ growth.

Consider the life of Maria Montessori, who reimagined education for children. Each day she rose before the dawn to prepare her classrooms with meticulous care—placing objects, arranging lessons, shaping the environment so that young minds could flourish. She did not see mornings as burdens, but as sacred hours when the soil of learning could be prepared. Her vision transformed education across the world, and it was sustained by the discipline of one who treated each morning as the opening chapter of a holy book.

History shows, too, the example of Confucius, who wandered among kingdoms to teach his disciples. Often he rose at the first light, for students would gather before the day’s labor began. To him, the early hours were not empty but precious, a time to instill wisdom before the distractions of the world took hold. Those who listened carried his teachings into centuries, proving that mornings, faithfully given, can echo across millennia.

The lesson is clear: to be a teacher is to serve, and service demands readiness when others still slumber. The morning person is not merely one who wakes early, but one who embraces the day with purpose, with discipline, with joy. The teacher cannot drag their spirit into the classroom; they must arrive like the sun, casting light upon the faces of those who wait to learn. Without this readiness, even the noblest knowledge may fall lifeless upon the ears of students.

Practical action follows: cultivate the art of morning. Rise with intention. Begin each day not with haste, but with preparation of body and soul. Breathe deeply, center your spirit, and step into the classroom—or into any place of duty—as though you bring the dawn itself. If you are not yet a morning person, train yourself gently: sleep earlier, greet the sunrise, and treat those first hours as sacred. In time, you will discover that the morning, once dreaded, becomes a source of strength.

Thus, O seekers, carry forward Ubach’s wisdom. Teaching is dawn-work: it demands presence, discipline, and light. Whether you guide children, lead teams, or nurture families, be a morning person in spirit—one who brings clarity and encouragement at the very start of the journey. For those who rise with purpose at the day’s beginning shall be remembered long after the day has ended.