For most on the outside, teaching is imagined as a one-way street. The professor delivers knowledge and the students receive it. But anyone who has spent years in a classroom knows that this is far from the truth. Teaching, if you approach it with humility and openness, is as much about learning as it is about instructing. In fact, the greatest role reversal of my professional life has been discovering that my students have taught me lessons no textbook, training manual, or research seminar could ever provide. They have shaped not only how I think as an academic, but, much more importantly, how I live as a person!
One of the earliest lessons came from the simple act of questioning. A sudden “Why not?” from the back of the room or a hesitant “What if?” could upend the neat arc of my carefully-planned lecture. At first, these interruptions seemed inconvenient; I had syllabi to cover, timetables to respect. But slowly I realised that questions are not disruptions, they are sparks. They ignite curiosity, they force us to re-examine what we think we know, and they remind us that humility is the foundation of all real knowledge. My students taught me that it is far more important to nurture the courage to ask than to merely supply the comfort of answers.
Another powerful life lesson has been about resilience. Universities, too, often reduce growth to numbers — marks, grades, ranks, GPAs. But resilience cannot be graded. I have seen students from modest backgrounds travel hours each day to reach campus, some working late into the night to support their families yet never missing a deadline. Their determination spoke louder than any speech on grit or perseverance I could have given. I recall one student telling me, “Sir, grades will fade, but the ability to rise after failure will never leave me.” That single line shifted my entire perspective. Education, I realised, is not about securing a perfect scorecard but about nurturing the strength to stand up, again and again, when life tests you.
I also learned that technology is less about tools and more about mindset. It was my students who showed me what adaptability truly looks like. During the Covid-19 pandemic, when learning went online overnight, it was the students who innovated. They organised peer-learning sessions on Discord, formed study groups on WhatsApp, and even taught us professors how to use the hidden features of Zoom. For them, technology was never intimidating; it was a language of possibility. From them I learned that embracing technology is not about mastering every device or app, but about cultivating an attitude of openness and experimentation.
Diversity has been another great teacher to me. The classroom, after all, is a miniature version of India, and often, of the world. My students have come from rural Bengal and metropolitan Delhi, from Kolkata’s busy streets and even internationally from Europe and the US. Their perspectives often collided in debates on culture, ethics, or language, and those collisions taught me that there is no single “correct” worldview. If I had remained within my own bubble, my vision would have been dangerously narrow. It was my students who stretched that horizon, reminding me daily that empathy and inclusion are not grand ideals to be celebrated on special occasions, but everyday practices to be lived.
But perhaps the most profound gift has been the reminder that curiosity is the fuel of purpose. In a system that often nudges students toward rote learning and exam-driven achievement, I have seen them resist. Some stayed back after class not to ask how to score better, but to ask real questions that can change the world: “How can AI help farmers?” or “How can entrepreneurship transform a village?” These questions were not about marksheets, they were about meaning. Their curiosity rekindled my own. It reminded me of why I chose academia in the first place, not to manufacture degree holders, but to encourage young people to dream big and create change!
Looking back, I see that teaching has never been a unidirectional act of transmission. It is a process of transformation and not just for the student, but equally for the teacher. Every lecture hall is a two-way street, every discussion a mirror, every question an invitation to grow. When I see my students succeed in their chosen fields, I take pride in their achievements. But I also recognise that they have left a mark on me as indelible, I hope, as I have on them
Education is not about producing followers of knowledge, but about walking together as fellow travellers in a lifelong journey of learning. To all my students, past, present, and future, thank you! You have made me a better teacher. Much more importantly, you have made me a better learner!
The author is the Vice-Chancellor of Sister Nivedita University and Group CEO, Techno India Group. A visionary leader, he is shaping future-ready institutions and inspiring students to lead with purpose