Unteachable Moments

Yesterday, I visited a business owner who had attended one of my innovation classes a couple of months ago. It wasn’t part of the course; I just wanted to understand his business better so that I could improve how I support SME owners after the course, and also refine how I teach the next cohort.

He started by showing me around the space that his company manages. As we walked around, I began to get a sense of the journey he had been on. Although he spoke humbly and without fuss, I could see that he had made bold moves by building out a portfolio of businesses, weaving them together in ways that created real synergy. I had originally come to discuss a specific idea he raised in class, but by the end of the tour, it was clear that idea didn’t need to be his immediate priority. He had harder problems to solve.

At some point, I told him how grateful I was for the visit. I said that I had learnt a lot from listening to him and observing what had been built, and that I would take some time to synthesise it into something teachable. He then asked me,

“How would you make it teachable?”

I was caught off guard by the question (which doesn’t happen often to me). I realised I didn’t have a clear answer.

I could probably craft a good case study by tracing the path of his innovation journey, highlight key decisions, package it into something useful for a slide deck. The truth is, a lot of what I saw came from gut feel, serendipity, timing, courage, and the gradual accumulation of capabilities.

Can I really teach that?

That question stayed with me long after I left. I kept circling around it, trying to find what could be taught without oversimplifying what had been lived.

This is where I’ve landed, at least for now: We live life forward, but explain it backwards. I can’t teach people how to predict the future, but I may be able to help them see patterns forming around them, and to be ready enough to respond when unexpected possibilities appear.

It is not a blueprint, but a mindset.

I brought back a plant from his nursery. It now sits quietly on my desk as a small reminder that growth rarely follows a straight line, but it rewards those who are ready.