What If They Had a Choice?

It’s been almost three years teaching at a high school in Belgium. Every day feels like a fresh battle: restless teenagers, rigid textbooks, endless negotiations just to hold their attention.

Two months ago, I decided to shake things up and started teaching adults once a week. The money helped, sure, but mostly, I needed a shift. My new students were different: over 50, some retired. Friends and colleagues gave me side-eye, calling it unnecessary, doubting my energy would last, doubting if it was sustainable at all.

Initially, five eager faces showed up. During our first session, they even refused the 15-minute break I offered. After years of teenage indifference, it felt surreal, almost intoxicating. Finally, I thought, students who want to learn.

Then reality hit. I was still treating them like high schoolers, teaching at them, assigning homework. It reminded them of school, and let’s be honest: none of us ran to school every morning. I asked one woman to put her phone away. She never came back. After two weeks, attendance plummeted. I’d prepped every lesson meticulously, custom-made (a freedom I don’t get with teens). When they didn’t return, I was blindsided.

And that’s when I had my aha moment: What if my high school students had the same choice? What if attendance wasn’t mandatory? Would they still show up? Would they choose me?

Truthfully, the thought stung. But it wasn’t about being a people pleaser. It made me rethink what engagement even means. Students, young or old, need personal relevance. A reason to care.

I shifted. One of the retirees had mentioned photography when I asked him about his hobbies. That day, only he showed up. I felt crushed. What was wrong with my teaching? I scraped the plan and built the whole session around photography, just for him. Asked him what he shoots, why he chose it.

To my surprise, he talked about urban decay. Demolished buildings. He’d spent a ton on gear; his wife wasn’t thrilled. But that theme, things falling apart, it resonated. Their sudden disappearance from my class had similarly shaken my confidence, making me feel as vulnerable and exposed as a building collapsing unexpectedly. Just as those buildings were being torn down to make space for something new, I felt I had to rebuild my teaching approach entirely.

I chose to forget about “normal teaching” and stopped emphasizing grammar.

We just talked about photography. His face lit up when I said his perspective was unique. And honestly? It was. The way he sees the world, shadows, textures, angles, was nothing like mine.

Next session: no intro, no grammar. We dove into vocabulary through his shots. Composition. Storytelling. He shared his career. Brought his portfolio. Beamed. The vibe shifted. The class felt alive.

After vacation, he returned with photos. Black and white. Stark. Powerful. And I realized: it’s not just about teaching content. It’s about connecting it. Tying it to them.

This shift bled into my high school classes. When they came in post-lunch, sleepy and glazed over, I didn’t push through the lesson plan. I took them outside. Sun, fresh air, spontaneous reading session. They came alive. Volunteered to read. Actually discussed the material. I asked them what topics they wanted to read next. Suddenly, they were in it with me.

So here’s the blunt takeaway: If your students had the freedom to choose, would they still choose you?

Make sure the answer is yes.

You can also read the article here:
👉 What If They Had a Choice?

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