The teacher around the corner

It happened to me like this.

One of those days when you go out without really going anywhere. You walk, not too fast or maybe too fast; the neighborhood noise in the background, and you end up taking a different street than usual. You didn’t plan it, you just got there.

I was in Naples.

At the corner of a run-down building, there was a mural. Bright colors, a bit faded, but the phrase was still perfectly clear:

"Whoever or whatever is in front of you is your teacher."

I stopped. I wasn’t planning to. I had other things on my mind. But that mural, in that very moment, seemed to know more about me than I was ready to admit.

I don’t know if it’s ever happened to you.

One moment you’re thinking about a meeting, a bill, an unresolved conversation. The next, you’re staring at a wall with a message so simple, so direct, it undresses you. It gently takes your hand and says, “Look closer.”

So you look.

A lady walking her dog, smiling even as the dog pulls on the leash.

A boy on a bike, stopping calmly to let the pedestrians cross.

A bus passing by, and inside a mother adjusting her child’s apron with textbook tenderness.

And you realize that maybe your teacher today doesn’t have a title, isn’t speaking at a conference, hasn’t published any books. He’s just passing by, living his life. And if you pay close attention, he teaches you something.

The truth is, real teachers are everywhere. They just don’t make much noise.

You meet them at the wrong times, when you’re busy, distracted, closed off.

But if you pause for even a second, you recognize them. They’re the moments that shake you, move you, slow you down.

Like that mural. It wasn’t meant for me. Yet somehow, it was talking directly to me.

I’d love to do it more often. I forget. But when I can, I stop and observe.

Not always for great revelations. Sometimes it’s just traffic. Or a pigeon.

But other times… other times, it’s enough.

A gesture, a phrase, an image.

And you remember that the world is always speaking to you, even when you didn’t ask.

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Sometimes, changing your route is all it takes to change your perspective. Slowing down allows unexpected teachers to appear in people, in silence, in simplicity.

Explore how coaching can support you, and feel free to request a pro bono cycle with me. Nicola Arnese offers these sessions during his free time to avoid conflicts with other professional commitments. Some flexibility in scheduling may be required.