We teach best what we most need to know. The Question of Questions. The Problem of Problems. The Practice of Practice. I believe that educators carry a profound ethical responsibility to their students — not merely to transmit knowledge, but to consciously evolve alongside it. This is not a passive commitment. I actively cultivate it through contemplative practice and pedagogy, through sustained inquiry into the nature of attention, through the ongoing, sometimes uncomfortable work of developing mindfulness, compassion, and empathy — not as ideals to hold, but as capacities to embody. These capacities matter because they are the very ones that make genuine learning possible: the ability to sit with complexity without collapsing it, to follow curiosity past the point of comfort, to create from uncertainty rather than despite it, to hold paradox without demanding resolution. Learning is not a delivery system. It is a condition — one that requires the willingness to enter the unknown, to abandon binary thinking, to stay present when presence is difficult. These qualities can be cultivated. That cultivation is the work. I don't teach dance. I use dance as a context — for learning, for discovering, for discarding what no longer serves, and for beginning again. What interests me is what happens when a mover stops performing their understanding of movement and starts actually investigating it: when the body stops imitating and starts inquiring. That shift — from the conditioned body to something more open, more responsive, more genuinely itself — is at the center of everything I do in a room. The technique, the improvisation scores, the choreographic problems I set: all of it is in service of that investigation.