The Kind Academic

When I’m out walking or running through my neighbourhood, I often stop.

To an onlooker, it probably looks like I stop because I can’t breathe, or because I’ve got a stitch, or because (let’s be honest) my stamina’s not quite where it should be. For what it’s worth, all of those things are often true given my superb lack of athleticism.

But actually, I stop because of the flowers.

Someone in my neighbourhood has taken it upon themselves to tend to the plants along the road just outside my house. They’ve carefully pruned and shaped the bushes, arranged the rocks, and planted bursts of colour that change with the seasons.

I don’t know who they are. I’ve never seen them. But every day, as I walk up the hill toward home, I pass this little patch of beauty and it fills me with joy.

Some mornings the petals are dewy, some days they sparkle in the sun, and other days they’re clearly thirsty. But no matter what, I look. I stop and look. And every single time, I feel grateful.

Today, as I paused there once again, I found myself wondering about the gardener. I imagine there must have been times when they felt tired or wondered if it was worth it: spending their own time, energy, and probably money to make a public strip of land beautiful. Maybe they’ve even felt disheartened. Maybe they’ve wondered why they bother.

And yet, they keep going. Quietly. Consistently. Kindly.

I found myself thinking about the small, often invisible acts of care we put into our teaching. The thoughtful activities we add to keep students engaged. The personal stories we share to humanise ourselves. The effort we put into making slides clearer, tasks more inclusive, assessments more meaningful. The extra time we spend crafting feedback that actually helps rather than just fulfills a requirement. It all takes time. It all takes energy. And often, we don’t know if anyone even notices.

Sometimes I wonder: Is it actually worth it?

But today, I’m reminded that even if our students never tell us, even if we never see the full impact of what we do, someone is stopping and noticing. Someone is breathing a little easier because of the care we’ve put in.

I don’t know who the gardener is. But I’m so thankful to them. And I hope, just maybe, there’s a student out there who feels the same way about me, or about you.

Because kindness, even when unseen, still blooms.