Today’s post is the second in a series on common misconceptions noneducators have about teaching.

‘Teaching Is Not One-Directional’

Kimberly Rimbey is an author, inventor, consultant, math coach, mentor, and teacher. Kim’s most recent Corwin book, Seeing the Math You Teach, focuses on supporting teachers with visual tools for strategic thinking:

Everyone is a teacher in one way or another. We teach our children to tie their shoes. We teach colleagues how to create spreadsheets. We teach friends how to watercolor. And, of course, everyone has also experienced teaching from the learner’s side—through years spent as a student in a classroom.

So, it can seem logical to assume that these experiences are enough to understand what it takes to be a professional teacher (with the exception of that tricky thing called behavior management).

But here’s the truth: What makes teaching complex—the reason we go to college to study it—is that teaching is both a science and an art. A better name for “teacher” might even be “learning scientist.”

We spend years studying how children learn: how to identify strengths and use them as springboards for growth, how to support the individual while managing the whole group, how to assess learning and analyze data, how to design lessons that engage and challenge, and how to notice and leverage the smallest of learning moments. The science of teaching isn’t innate—it’s cultivated through study, practice, and reflection.

And here’s another related key misconception: Teaching is not one-directional. It isn’t simply a teacher presenting and students absorbing. True teaching is bi-directional—a two-way exchange. It isn’t complete until learning has happened. Teaching and learning are two sides of the same coin, inseparable and interdependent.

That’s why teaching is far more than “telling.” It’s a discipline that requires skill, study, and intention to create the kind of opportunities where real learning can take root.

‘Sticking to Romeo and Juliet Is Not What Teaching Is’

Alicia Burnette Whitley is a veteran English teacher and Ph.D. candidate at North Carolina State University whose research focuses on teacher education and critical media literacies:

It is a truth commonly acknowledged that everyone who’s been through school feels like they know what a teacher does. And I’m sure, if you’ve ever had the pleasure of being in the classroom with a talented instructor, they made it look pretty easy. Teachers have to know a thing or two about their subjects and convey that information clearly and interestingly to their students while assigning textbooks and grading papers. Maybe they have to manage a few classroom-behavior issues—either by being a strict disciplinarian or dosing the learning with a spoonful of sugar. Easy peasy it would seem.

Nonteachers don’t necessarily see that battling phones and constant classroom interruptions can be draining. The millions of noninstruction-related questions can be overwhelming. (Once, I counted. In the span of 10 minutes, I was asked 40 questions unrelated to the topic at hand. “Do you have an extra pencil?” and “Can I go get my lunch from DoorDash?” and “Can I have the bathroom pass?” and “I’m going to be out on Wednesday. Can I get the work now?” and “I missed class yesterday. Did we do anything important?” are all fine and relevant questions … until they’re all coming at you at once.) The stories children bring to school with them, their joys and their agonies become emotions that you share with them.

The biggest misconception nonteachers have about classroom teaching is that “teaching” means giving students factual information about a subject that they can memorize and repeat. When I would tell her outlandish tales of what a kid said to me, my mother would always say, “How do you end up having such conversations with students? Why don’t you just stick to Romeo and Juliet?” It’s because sticking to Romeo and Juliet is not what teaching is. What it is, what it really means when you come down to it, is caring for students and demonstrating the lessons they’ll need to get through life … with a splash of Romeo and Juliet on the side.

Teaching Is Not Just About ‘Delivering Information’

Angel Martinez Sanchez is a teacher at Norwich public schools in Connecticut:

In my opinion, many people outside education assume teaching is simply about delivering information. But in reality, teaching is deeply relational. We’re not just conveying content—we’re reading the room, adapting language in real time, decoding student emotions, responding to trauma, building trust, and constantly translating curriculum into something human and relevant.

For multilingual learners, this work multiplies: We’re also navigating cultural nuance, language processing, and identity affirmation. What looks like a 30-minute lesson might actually be the result of years of relationship-building, strategic scaffolding, and invisible labor.

The misconception isn’t just about underestimating the work—it’s about misunderstanding its complexity. Teaching is part science, part improvisation, and all heart.

Additionally, the public often misses that teaching involves a high level of intellectual labor. We make constant pedagogical decisions in real time—shifting tone, pacing, and strategy based on how students respond. It’s adaptive, high-stakes work that draws on both expertise and intuition. Teachers carry a cognitive load most people never see: planning for the wide range of readiness, needs, and emotions in a single room, while also balancing logistics, timing, and state requirements.

The true art of teaching lies in making the complex look seamless—and that only comes with intentional practice, deep reflection, and years of lived experience. Teaching isn’t just emotional labor—it’s emotional and cognitive mastery in motion.

Thanks to Kimberly, Alicia, and Angel for contributing their thoughts.

Responders today answered this question:

What do you think is the biggest misconception nonteachers have about classroom teaching?

You can see Part One in this series here.

Consider contributing a question to be answered in a future post. You can send one to me at lferlazzo@epe.org. When you send it in, let me know if I can use your real name if it’s selected or if you’d prefer remaining anonymous and have a pseudonym in mind.

You can also contact me on X at @Larryferlazzo or on Bluesky at @larryferlazzo.bsky.social

Just a reminder; you can subscribe and receive updates from this blog via email. And if you missed any of the highlights from the first 13 years of this blog, you can see a categorized list here.