From the Paddock

There is something disarming about the honesty of a horse. They do not respond to your plans, your schedule or your expectations. They respond to your energy, your intention and the moment you are in.

When I am with my horse, there is no hiding. If I am rushed, he knows. If I am distracted, he hesitates. If I am tense, so is he. He reflects me back to myself, calm or anxious, present or not, and he reminds me of something I often forget in other areas of life:

Patience is not passive. It is presence.

I used to think patience meant waiting. Now I understand it as being grounded. Holding space. Letting things unfold rather than forcing them through. With my horse, the best progress comes when I stop trying to push for it. When I give him time to settle. When I listen with my body. When I ask, wait, and trust.

And I have come to realise that teaching is no different.

My students, like my horse, need time. They need space to process, the chance to try without fear, the freedom to move at their pace, not mine. They do not respond to pressure or force. They respond to consistency. They respond to feeling seen. They respond to someone who believes they are capable, even when the outcome is not immediate.

There have been lessons I have taught where I wanted so badly for it to land. I had the structure, the clarity, the resources. But something was missing. The energy was not right. The room needed stillness, not more input. Just like my horse, my students were asking me to pause. To adjust. To trust that learning was still happening, even if it did not look like it yet.

Patience in the classroom is not about letting go of expectations. It is about knowing when to step back. When to soften. When to wait and watch before stepping in.

Working with horses has changed how I teach. It has changed how I listen. And most of all, it has changed how I hold space for growth, my students and my own.

There is no rushing trust. No shortcut for presence. No substitute for showing up calm, clear and willing to wait.

That is what my horse has taught me. And it has made me a better teacher.

“The horse is a mirror to your soul. Sometimes you might not like what you see. Sometimes you will.”
— Buck Brannaman, horse trainer and clinician