Teacher

Over several years, I have had the privilege of working with children - a teaching experience that stands out as one of the most meaningful and inspiring in my life. My work has focused not least on supporting children with homework and test preparation across a range of primary and secondary school subjects. I have learned that children value open and honest communication, especially when discussing the challenges they encounter in their daily lives. This work has taken place both in family homes and through digital platforms.

A 10 year-old girl, who lived with her sister and her mother in Zürich, once asked me this question: “Frank, how do you find out how good a teacher you are?” Reflecting on the interesting question from the young primary school student, I realized that for me, being a good teacher means helping to ignite a love of learning. So I replied something like this: “When I come to learn with you and your sister next week, and you tell me what you have been learning about over the past days - in school or on your own - you’ll help me understand how much you enjoy learning. For example, if you tell me that you were curious about solving a particular math problem or learning to communicate even better in German with your friend, then I’ll understand how curious and self-driven you are in discovering new things.

In conversations with children and their parents, who fled conflict in Sri Lanka to save their lives, I learned that their ancestors had moved from India to Sri Lanka generations ago. This insight, along with my work supporting these families, strengthened my curiosity to understand their cultural background more fully. I realized that it was important to experience India firsthand - to learn about people’s working lives, family traditions, geography, economy, and ways of thinking. Inspired by conversations, I decided to travel to South India via Dubai and spend a couple of months there. During that time, I visited places they had told me about, gaining a richer perspective on the roots of the people I was serving and learning from. An example:

Over several years, I experienced that the demand for teaching support among migrant children was high. Among challenges I experienced while working with migrant children were related to payment. In several cases, I worked for very little compensation - or even volunteered my time entirely. These situations raised questions for me such as whether I should continue to work for little pay when helping migrant children. In several situations, I chose to continue working with the children - whether their parents could pay little, nothing, or not on time. Why? Because I experienced how much the children benefited from learning support, it was natural for me to continue to serve. However, working for little or no pay led to difficult personal consequences. I found myself struggling to cover basic expenses, especially the ever-rising health insurance premiums in Switzerland. Along the way, I made this discovery: Health insurance premiums in Switzerland are not adjusted to the incomes of people. Even when I was not paid for my work, the cost of insurance remained fixed. In addition, I learned that if I missed a payment because I had not yet received income, I would be fined for not paying the health care premium on time. This experience made me reflect deeply on the gaps between purpose-driven work and the economic realities that shape everyday life in Switzerland.

During this period, as I encountered an overwhelming need for learning support across many subjects and an equally pressing need for mental health support among children as well as among parents of some children, I began to feel increasingly exploited because of the minimal payment I received. I had the sense of being left somewhat alone while taking pioneering steps  What deepened this feeling was noticing the stark contrasts in the Swiss society. Reading in the media about exceptionally high salaries in, for example, healthcare organizations, banks, insurance companies and related institutions made the inequality visible. It highlighted how the value placed on social contribution and prevention of illnesses often stands in sharp contrast to financial reward. These observations raised difficult but important questions about justice: How can a society maintain solidarity when those who take private initiatives to strengthen its social fabric face instability themselves? And how can systems be redesigned to recognize and sustain the kind of grassroot innovation that truly builds community? 

One of the most painful challenges that more of the children I worked with spoke about was discrimination. Some of the stories children shared were heartbreaking - accounts of unfair treatment that no child should ever experience. There were times I could not hold back my tears as I reflected on their words and the weight of what they endured. I learned that children with darker skin tones were sometimes discriminated against in schools - by other children and at times even by adults. The children of migrant children I worked with explained to me that they developed different strategies to navigate experiences they encountered. Some tried to ignore the discrimination to protect themselves, even when it felt humiliating. Others found that dialogue - speaking with those who discriminated or with supportive peers and teachers - could open small paths toward understanding and change. These experiences forced me to confront  questions about the kind of society we are creating. What can educators, school leaders, leaders in city administration and leaders in cantonal adminstration do to make schools truly inclusive learning environments? How can institutions move beyond tolerance toward genuine cultural appreciation and equity? And how can leaders in education, policy, and business ensure that those most affected by discrimination are not left to carry the burden of change alone? Discrimination does not end through silence. It  ends through empathy, dialogue, and strong leadership.