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by Zarrel Gel Noza
|September 2, 2026
Five years ago, I received one of the most life-changing offers of my life—to teach. Little did I know it would also be a season of learning. Seeing some of my first students post their graduation photos, I realized that one of the biggest lessons I had in the past years was how far love and compassion in our classrooms could go.
When I started, my teaching philosophy was to be the teacher I needed when I was a student, to build the learning environment where I would thrive if I were the learner. So, it has always been my goal to build a classroom where my students would feel safe to learn and to be themselves. More than mastering my lessons, my number one goal has been to create a classroom that students would want to enter and stay in, to deliver lessons that they would desire to take in. More than wanting my students to learn, my higher objective is for them to want to learn first.
But I am not writing this to brag about being the “coolest teacher ever.” I am far from that. I am writing this to encourage my fellow educators to let love and compassion lead the way we teach.
One of the things I have noticed in my classes is high attendance rates, as well as high participation rates in class. When students feel safe and comfortable in their classes, they go to class—not just because of the attendance policy but because they actually want to learn. They also participate more because they see the class as a safe space to ask questions, to share their thoughts, to admit that there are a lot of things that they still need to know.
A welcoming environment also encourages feedback, a very powerful learning strategy. When our students view us positively, it becomes easier for them to absorb constructive feedback and sometimes, even to ask for more. It allows them to see that our comments and evaluations are coming from a place of concern and support.
Another observation is my students’ openness to come and be vulnerable around me. This allows me to understand the factors affecting their class performance, as well as find ways on how to help them. As educators, we know that our students’ learning is affected by many internal and external factors. Late submissions don’t necessarily equate to irresponsibility. Low scores don’t necessarily reflect incompetence. Multiple times, I have experienced students approaching me after class or messaging me in the wee hours, to share about their struggles and explain the things that are making their learning more challenging than usual.
Knowing this allows me to consider their situation even in the smallest class decisions—deadlines, learning modalities, class requirements, and activities. It doesn’t necessarily mean we need to make it easier for them, but for learning to be effective, the environment must be conducive, and this means being tailored to the actual needs and situations of our students.
But creating a nurturing learning environment doesn’t mean giving our students anything they want. We do not want to raise a generation of brats. But this is about creating a space where our students will grow because they know they can and that they are meant to do so. This is about making learning more enjoyable and effective for them.
I am sure that not all educators will agree with me on this. It won’t be surprising, especially if many of us grew up in learning environments that forced us to thrive under pressure, and we’ve seen it work for us. But if tough love, whether from our parents, guardians, teachers or mentors, worked for us, it does not necessarily mean it would work for this generation. If you think it worked for you somehow, it does not mean it did not wound you in some other way. If it has been somehow effective yet still scarring for us and for the several generations before us, maybe our role is not to keep up with the cycle, but to break it.
I have witnessed people break down—not just for days but for years—just to please the people who are supposed to mentor and nurture them. I have seen friends who lost sight of their amazing potential just because others made them doubt themselves and what they can do. I have seen peers who got stuck just because the world discouraged them from taking the chance, because the world made them believe they cannot make it. You cannot expect people to function better after you break them.
Meanwhile, I thrived the most under the tutelage of the kindest, most supportive, most approachable instructors and bosses. And when I look back, though I admire their technical expertise and extensive knowledge in their field, what I remember the most is how they treated me, how they willingly answered my questions, how they believed I could do more and enabled me to do so.
So, let’s imagine a classroom—no, actually, a society where our educators raise the next leaders of our society with love and compassion, encouraging these future leaders to do the same. Wouldn’t it be a wonderful place to live in?
