I am a teacher first. In my world, that means one of two things: either I am teaching a horse, or I am teaching a rider. Whether a student is destined to be an Olympic athlete or is simply seeking a deeper connection with their backyard partner is entirely irrelevant to the process of learning.
True education doesn’t care about the scale of the stage; it cares about the integrity of the foundation. Sometimes, my work is a long-term commitment to a grand vision; other times, it is simply identifying and replacing a single foundational brick that has been missing from a student’s knowledge—whether that student has two legs or four.
I was reminded of this today while watching a student work with his horse. As I stood by, I could see the “dance” that I so often feel in my own movements finally taking shape in his. Working from the ground at liberty, he wasn’t just moving—he was communicating. He was able to assess and redirect his horse quietly, using nothing more than his own position and energy.
It was a beautiful display of what happens when we stop worrying about the “medal” and start focusing on the “brick.” When the foundation is solid, the movement becomes a conversation, and the conversation becomes a dance.