It Started On a Wednesday

There I was, mid-sentence into a seventh-period sociology class lecture, praying silently that every single one of my students would stop Snapchatting long enough to realize that the Civil Rights Movement mattered to them. My tie was askew, my voice was cracking (probably from a lack of hydration and too many late nights grading papers), and I was seconds from pulling the ol’ teacher threat: “This will be on the test, y’all.” That’s when Dr. Minnard walked through my classroom door.

Now, if this were a movie, you’d hear some kind of angelic choir and see this stately Black man with salt-and-pepper hair magically backlit, holding an armful of inspiration instead of papers. But this was real life, and Dr. Minnard, my supervisor and mentor during my first year teaching, mostly carried a clipboard and a concerned expression. Yet the way he saw me changed everything.

The Quiet Power of Being Seen

Dr. Minnard didn’t “see” me in a simple, perfunctory way. He saw me. Not just my shakily adjusted tie or the slight desperation in my eyes when my students spent more time arguing about who was recording TikToks after school than analyzing social constructs. He saw my potential, raw and uneven like the corner of a rookie teacher’s stapled syllabus.

“You’ve got a gift,” he once said after a rocky lesson. “Kids don’t need perfect. They need real. And you’re real.”

I’ll admit, I was suspicious. Growing up in Southeast Texas, compliments from authority figures were rare and often had a catch. (Imagine hearing, “You’re articulate for a Black kid” more times than I’d care to count.) But Dr. Minnard wasn’t that type. He had that uncanny ability to see who people were underneath their own doubts and insecurities. The way he saw me unlocked parts of myself I didn’t know existed, much like when you stumble across a D’Angelo deep cut and wonder how you ever lived without it.

Here’s what he taught me, and maybe, what it might teach you too.

1. Find Your North Star

In our conversations, Dr. Minnard once asked me a question that hit me like a thunderbolt: “Why did you become a teacher?”

At first, I gave some boilerplate answer about giving back to the community, but he pressed me: “No, what really made you show up in this classroom with this tie today?”

The truth? It was because of my mama. She worked ten-hour shifts at the hospital so she could save for my books. It was that Sociology 101 professor in college who told me I had a knack for asking the kind of questions that make people uncomfortable in the best way. Teaching was never just a job—it was a bridge built by people who believed in me.

When you know why you’re doing something, even on the days when you don’t feel like doing it, that purpose can pull you back on track. And here’s the spicy part: whether you’re navigating a job, a relationship, or figuring out if you really want to try oat milk again, your “why” is what keeps you grounded.

2. Stop Hiding Your Rough Edges

In my early teaching days, I thought professionalism meant wearing cardigans two sizes too big and trying to speak in the crisp tones of my favorite TV news anchors. I wanted to fit into whatever mold people expected from me—and I know a lot of you reading this have probably done the same thing at one point or another.

But one day, after I tried to buttonhole a teachable moment into yet another stale, textbook script, Dr. Minnard winked at me and said, “You don’t need anyone else’s voice, Devonte. Yours works just fine.”

It wasn’t immediate, but I learned to let my real self come through. My humor. My “y’all”s and “child, please” moments. The ability to connect Hurricane Katrina with my students’ own family stories. When people witness you being real—business meetings, first dates, awkward encounters at the coffee shop—they’ll connect with you on a level that’s deeper than pretenses.

You don’t have to quilt together someone else’s playbook to matter. My mentor taught me that the most magnetic people—and, might I add, the best partners—operate from a place of being unapologetically themselves.

3. Surround Yourself With Those Who See You

Now, this one feels simple, but it isn’t. Think about the group chat you respond to the most. Do those people hype you up for the little wins? Or do they leave you on “read,” only chiming in with critique when your meal looks over-seasoned on Instagram?

Here’s the tea: you cannot thrive in spaces that intentionally ignore you. Your job, your crew, and your relationship should contain folks who see your efforts and not just your results. People who gas you up during the process—not just when you cross the finish line. Because there were seasons when I was still wobbling between who I wanted to be as a teacher and the one I was on my worst days, but Dr. Minnard never stopped seeing the gold underneath my surface.

Now apply this to relationships. Does that person encourage your self-discovery, or do they check out because you don’t yet have it all together? Someone worth keeping leans in—uneven edges and all.

4. Pay It Forward, Even When It’s Hard

When I left teaching to pursue writing full-time, I thought I’d closed that chapter of my life. But a few years ago, I found myself at a literary workshop, guiding a young writer on shaping themes of identity into their essay. As they asked hesitant questions, I realized I sounded startlingly like Dr. Minnard: patient, encouraging, certain.

Being “seen” isn’t just something you sit with—it’s something you share. Whether it’s a friend reeling from their Tinder breakup, or a coworker doubting if they’ll ever get that promotion, showing people their inherent dignity and potential is the ultimate pay-it-forward move. It’s how I honor the people who poured into my cup when it was dry.

The Takeaway: Become a Mirror

Dr. Minnard once told me, “Real leadership is about showing people the power they already have.” Those words? They hit deeper than my grandma’s homemade cobbler. And honestly, isn’t “seeing” someone just another form of love? Whether romantic, platonic, or professional, love at its best reflects back to us the beauty we struggle to see in ourselves.

So, think about the people in your life. Your best friend. Your partner. The barista who knows your order better than you do. Whose potential can you reflect back to them today? And who’s doing that for you?

If no one comes to mind, maybe it’s a sign to seek spaces where you can be seen too. Let me tell you from experience: it’s a game-changing feeling to have someone glance past the surface and say, “You’ve got this.” Sometimes, that moment can change everything—just like it did for me.