The Interhuman Art of Teaching suggests that teaching as something more than technique—it’s about human-to-human connection, empathy, and the shared process of learning.

Absolutely, and as someone who’s spent years studying not just how we learn mathematics but how we feel while learning it, this resonates deeply.

In mathematics education, we’ve long treated emotion as noise, something to be quieted before "real thinking" can happen. But what if emotion isn’t the opposite of logic but its foundation? What if confusion, curiosity, frustration, and awe are not disruptions to mathematical reasoning but the very currents that propel it?

The wisdom traditions mentioned, Ubuntu’s interconnected humanity, Cherokee teachings on emotional balance, and Confucian ideals of relational harmony, all point to a truth our standardized classrooms have forgotten: thinking is interhuman. A student struggling with algebra isn’t just manipulating symbols; they’re navigating identity, belonging, and emotional safety. When we name that frustration, that spark of insight, that fear of being wrong, absolutely, and as someone who’s spent years studying not just how we learn mathematics but how we feel while learning it, this resonates deeply.

In mathematics education, we’ve long treated emotion as noise, something to be quieted before "real thinking" can happen. But what if emotion isn’t the opposite of logic but its foundation? What if confusion, curiosity, frustration, and awe are not disruptions to mathematical reasoning but the very currents that propel it?

The wisdom traditions mentioned, Ubuntu’s interconnected humanity, Cherokee teachings on emotional balance, and Confucian ideals of relational harmony all point to a truth our standardized classrooms have forgotten: thinking is interhuman. A student struggling with algebra isn’t just manipulating symbols , they’re navigating identity, belonging, and emotional safety. When we name that frustration, that spark of insight, that fear of being wrong, we don’t leave math behind; we deepen into it.

In my research, I’ve seen how students’ emotional narratives shape their mathematical identities. The moment a student says, “I hate math,” they’re not rejecting equations; they’re expressing a history of invisibility, misrecognition, or shame. But when we create spaces where emotions are named and honored, where a sigh is met with curiosity, not correction, we open pathways to flourishing, not just proficiency.

So yes, flourishing begins with naming what we feel. And in mathematics, that’s not a detour from rigor. It’s the path to it.

Let’s stop asking, “Do you understand the theorem?” and start asking, “What did it feel like when it made sense?”

That’s where real learning begins. We don’t leave math behind, we deepen into it.

In my research, I’ve seen how students’ emotional narratives shape their mathematical identities. The moment a student says, “I hate math,” they’re not rejecting equations; they’re expressing a history of invisibility, misrecognition, or shame. But when we create spaces where emotions are named and honored, where a sigh is met with curiosity, not correction, we open pathways to flourishing, not just proficiency.

So yes, flourishing begins with naming what we feel. And in mathematics, that’s not a detour from rigor. It’s the path to it.

Let’s stop asking, “Do you understand the theorem?” and start asking, “What did it feel like when it made sense?”

That’s where real learning begins.

The Interhuman Art of Teaching views teaching and learning as relational processes, emphasizing interaction, understanding, and empathy between teacher and student. It highlights how these interpersonal dynamics shape effective educational experiences.