Who do you learn from?
It’s such a simple question, but one that opens a door. Think back to who shaped you as a child, a teenager, or a young adult. Most of us would start with the obvious: our teachers. But if we keep going, the list grows: parents, grandparents, siblings, neighbors, coaches, bosses, friends, mentors, doctors, community leaders.
When I think back on my earliest teachers, I see the prairie behind my house on the south side of Chicago. There was always a baseball game going on, bike paths to explore, and kids watching out for one another. I couldn’t wander far without someone calling me back to the field. That prairie taught me about belonging, curiosity, and care.
High school brought its own teachers: my managers at the local ice cream shop and local movie theatre. They taught me responsibility—how to close up at night, handle cash, deal with customers, and work as part of a team. They hired me, trained me, and trusted me. They helped me develop the work habits and confidence that carried me forward.
And of course, there was my family. I grew up in a large one, full of cousins, aunts, and uncles who each offered different lessons. I remember walking with my cousin Rachel Bojda, ten years older and the coolest person I knew. She once told me, “It’s good to talk about your feelings, even when they’re hurt.” A simple truth that landed deeply.
Learning has never been confined to one person, one role, or one place. It happens in kitchens and ball fields, in corner stores and libraries, in music studios and job sites, and yes—in classrooms, too. And yet, when we talk about “educators,” we often mean only professional teachers. We overlook the wide circle of people who have always been part of how young people grow. What happens if we take that circle seriously? What happens when we expand our definition of who counts as an educator?
The Power of Expanding the Circle
When we widen our view, a new possibility comes into focus. Young people can grow up surrounded not just by formal instruction, but by networks of care and inspiration. Every adult in their life, whether a teacher, a coach, or a neighbor, becomes part of an intentional system of support.
This matters because learning is about more than content. It is about being known, cared for, and trusted to try. It is about discovering your gifts and seeing them reflected back by others. That’s what makes inspiration possible. If we want every child to feel inspired to create, to solve problems, and to keep learning, then inspiration cannot be left to luck. It must be part of how we design education. And that means seeing educators everywhere.
The Role of the Professional Educator
When we embrace this expanded view, the role of the professional educator transforms.
Teachers are no longer asked to be everything for every child. Instead, they become part of a team. Their unique role is to anchor relationships, help learners make meaning of what they encounter, and connect them to the wider circle of people and opportunities that shape their growth.
In this way, educators shift from being the single source of knowledge to being guides and connectors. They help young people navigate across experiences—in school, at home, and in the community—so that learning becomes a coherent journey, not a fragmented set of encounters.
This is not lighter work. In some ways, it is more complex because it requires educators to know their students deeply, to see their strengths, and to help them chart paths that are both personal and connected. But it is also shared work. Teachers are not alone.
When Communities Embrace Learning Everywhere
Across the country, communities are already embracing this wider view. They are asking: What if we design education so that every child learns from the full richness of people and places around them?
- In Ojai, California, a learning community called Rock Tree Sky is sparking the Ojai Learning Ecosystem and invites artists, scientists, and mentors from across the valley to join in supporting young people’s self-directed learning. Adults outside the classroom are not peripheral—they are central.
- In Columbus, Ohio, the PAST Foundation connects schools with scientists, civic leaders, and community organizations. A science lesson on water quality is not just a lab activity; it becomes a civic project with real-world stakes and mentors from the broader community.
- In Brooklyn, New York, Runway Green is creating an experiential campus where learners will work alongside farmers, researchers, and workforce partners, discovering careers and possibilities in the emerging green economy.
In each case, education is being re-centered around what has always been true: children learn from many people, and the stronger the connections between those people, the stronger the learning.
Learning has never been confined to one person, one role, or one place. It happens in kitchens and ball fields, in corner stores and libraries, in music studios and job sites, and yes—in classrooms, too.
Bobbi Macdonald
What Young People Experience
For young people, this expanded vision makes education feel very different.
- Agency and choice. Instead of waiting for knowledge to be delivered, learners choose from many pathways and opportunities.
- Socially embedded learning. They learn in relationship with peers, adults, and community members who know them and believe in them.
- Competency-based progress. They grow by demonstrating what they can do in real settings, not just by passing tests.
- Personalized journeys. Each learner follows a path shaped by their strengths, interests, and aspirations.
- Open-walled opportunities. The community becomes the classroom, and the classroom opens to the community.
These are not abstract ideals. They are the five elements of learner-centered education in practice. And they depend on us recognizing that educators are everywhere.
Why This Matters Now
We are living in a moment of both urgency and possibility. Too many young people tell us they feel unseen and uninspired. Too many educators feel stretched thin, asked to do everything alone.
Expanding our view of who we see as an educator addresses both realities. It affirms what young people need most: to be known, cared for, and inspired by a circle of caring adults. And it provides professional educators with the support of a network, allowing them to focus on building deep relationships and guiding learning without carrying the full weight alone.
In this way, expanding the circle is more than a philosophical shift; it is a practical one. It changes how we organize time, relationships, and resources. It changes what we value and measure—not only content delivery, but the quality of relationships and the depth of inspiration.
Returning to the Question
So, let’s return to the question: Who do you learn from?
If your answer is like mine, the list is long. Teachers, yes. But also neighbors, friends, bosses, family, mentors, coaches, and community members. Each played a role. Each mattered.
If we take that truth seriously, we can begin to design education differently. We can move from seeing learning as the responsibility of schools alone to seeing it as the work of a whole community. We can create systems where every child grows up surrounded by people who know them, believe in them, and inspire them.
That is the promise of expanding our view of who counts as an educator. And it begins with a question we can all answer: Who do you learn from?
