Four years ago, in the midst of a professional retraining process, I decided that I wanted to go further in my training. That's how I ended up at the Doctoral School of the Faculty of Law in Bucharest, with the thought that, one day, maybe I would be able to teach. I was dreaming, I must admit, about teaching.
When I was a student, I always sat in the front rows, in the middle. I could see and hear everything, but most of all, I could see the professor. He seemed to me like a silent hero, capable of transforming the chaos of a break into complete silence just by his mere presence. I listened in awe, laughed at the subtle jokes, and thought that if you can master an amphitheater, you can practically move mountains. I kept reminiscing...
Years went by. I didn't become a professor, yet, but as a doctoral student I had the opportunity to teach. Not in an amphitheater, but in a small seminar room, where you work in a small group, sometimes much too small if the seminar is scheduled early in the morning. Still, it wasn't easy. My excitement at first was simple: How do I best explain it to them?
But the reality in the classroom hit me head on. Many students were there just for the presence. They were waiting for the two hours to pass, no questions, no curiosity. “We are still in the land of It works like that as well”, one of them said to me. I was speechless. How could I explain to them that shortcuts don't always take you where you hope? That the long way is the only healthy way?
It was more difficult when I realized where the haste and superficiality came from: distrust. “What's the point if everything's going wrong anyway?” someone else said. I realized that it wasn't their fault and that's when I wished I could be the hero teacher and have the solution. But that's not how reality works.
That's when I really understood that my job is not only to transfer knowledge to them, but also to make them people who can get around in society, but more importantly who can shape society for the better. That a teacher's influence doesn't stop at grades and exams, but goes much further - in the way a student learns to think, to have self-confidence, to find their place in the world and to fight for principles and values. It is precisely because we lack them that we have many dilemmas today.
In an unstable world full of uncertainty, I believe that what we can do as teachers is to be present. To offer patience, listening, and a different kind of leadership. The teacher also needs to be empathetic, flexible, to have patience and offer respect, not just be a good professional. Change starts with you is no longer just a slogan. It's a personal direction, it's how you choose to appear to those who look up to you as a role model.
I talk to my students about values, give them examples of good practice and show them that yes, it can be done. That there are other paths. And maybe not all of them will choose the hard way. But if even one of them gives up ‘works like that as well’, then it is already a step towards a healthier society.
Because that's where we have to start: with education. From school. From that moment when you learn that one wrong comma can change the meaning of a law. So I always tell them to be curious and rigorous. Don't search for shortcuts. Invest time and effort. To understand that lasting success needs solid foundations.
I've always got along well with rigor, and that's what I try to do while teaching as well. Explain what it is and why it's important.
Some people think if you're rigorous, you're cold. But I believe the opposite: true rigor comes with empathy. Because you can't demand high standards without explaining them. You can't hold the line without seeing when someone needs support. Being rigorous is not about being tough, it's about being consistent and fair and making sure that no one is left behind without having been heard.
I know rigor has always been confused with severity. But over time I have come to realize that rigor in education is the highest form of respect: for the profession, for those who listen to you and for yourself. It's the way you say: it matters what we do here, it matters how we learn. It's not about rules because ‘that's the way it should be’, but it's about consistency, clarity and accountability. On both sides of a seminar room.
I've also taught my students to be uncompromising in the face of injustice and imposture. And I also told them that I know they are being asked to do a lot, but not to forget that they not only have rights but also responsibilities, and they weigh heavily. The future does not happen by chance. It is a continuous choice. It is a construction where every decision and every gesture counts.
As for me, yes, I've been thinking. Maybe education doesn't always happen in front of an amphitheater. It can be done, very well, in a small room with few but curious students. With real questions, honest discussion and trust. With involvement. With support.
