DreamScope Theatre

© 2025 Puja Goyal

Teaching is a profession that works behind the scenes to make a student into the person he will become tomorrow. The. long hours after school, correcting papers, preparing, worrying about Ravi or Krishna and their marks … the conversations with fellow teachers about Surabhi, and her weak math score. “Why is Saransh late to school, he skips often, everything alright?” Add to this the preparation for annual days and other programs.

The contributions will only surface in the later years of the child. Teachers have an impression on the child long after he graduates. He remembers the stories, the smell of jasmine from her hair, or how she sent him on errands; the child will remember the soft encouragements and the stern corrections that shape his education and personality.

The best way it can be illustrated is through an example of Arjun.

The room was restless — a midday lull thick with humidity and the scent of old textbooks. A ceiling fan hummed a tired lullaby. In the second row, Arjun balanced a pen on his lip, already halfway into mischief. Then, without warning, the teacher’s voice shifted — no longer clipped or measured, but warm, full-bodied, mysterious.

“There was once a boy who stole fire from the gods…”

The pen dropped. Arjun froze. The classroom held its breath.

That moment — the suspension of disbelief, the invisible string tying thirty restless hearts to a single voice — is what no exam ever measures. What no syllabus can teach.

Because storytelling is not a trick. It’s not an “engagement strategy.” It is now you can divert. attention from the wavering mind to absolute focus.

It is a human instinct. A survival skill. A soul mirror.

And teachers, without ever claiming the title, are its oldest guardians.

We talk a lot about innovation in education. Tablets. AI. Bite-sized learning.
But when we strip away the jargon and gadgets, what stays?

A voice. A story. A sense of wonder.

Storytelling is not decoration on the cake — it is the flour, the eggs, the heat of the oven. It binds facts into meaning, strings together scattered thoughts into insight. It reaches past attention spans and into the heart.

Ask any student what they remember years later.

It won’t be the equation. It will be the teacher who made photosynthesis feel like a jungle myth. The one who turned geometry into architecture. The one who didn’t just read Shakespeare — they summoned him, chalk in hand like a wand.

Storytelling, when done right, becomes a form of articulation so powerful it slips under the skin. It’s what makes a team rally behind a pitch. What makes a parent finally hear their child. What makes a lesson live longer than the moment it’s spoken.

I once knew a history teacher who turned every lesson into a time machine.

She didn’t just say, “1942: Quit India Movement.”

She said, “It’s midnight. You’re in Bombay. A crowd is gathering. You’re fifteen and holding a torn flag under your shirt.”

Attendance soared. Not because of tests. But because stories made the students feel part of something larger than themselves.

In another school, a shy science teacher narrated space travel as if it were a bedtime story — rich with pause and curiosity. One student, who rarely spoke, started writing science fiction. Last I heard, she’s at ISRO.

This is the power no one claps for.
The superpower that lives between the lines of the lesson plan.

So here’s a quiet revolution I offer you:

Speak as if your words are doorways.
Teach like each topic is a place they’ll visit again in dreams.
Lead not with facts, but with feeling.

You don’t need a theater degree. You don’t need a podcast voice.
You just need to remember: humans are story-shaped.
And when you speak with care, they listen with their whole selves.

Next time you step into a classroom, a meeting, or a conversation —

Don’t just inform.

Transform.

Because that’s what teachers do.
Even when no one’s watching.
Even when no one says thank you.

And maybe, just maybe — that’s what they never get credit for.

Coming Soon: The Storytelling Classroom—a professional development workshop by DreamScope Theatre, designed for educators, facilitators, and communicators seeking to elevate their teaching through the art of storytelling.

Because the future of education begins with how we speak, listen, and connect.