Reflections on Faculty Development Training by National Academy of Higher Education (NAHE)

For the past four years, I’ve had the privilege of teaching at The Begum Nusrat Bhutto Women University (BNBWU) in Sukkur. It’s hard to put into words how much this experience has changed me—not just as a teacher, but as a person. I’ve learned as much from my students as I’ve ever managed to teach them. And maybe that’s the point.

I’ll be honest: like many others, I didn’t fully understand the scale or purpose of the reforms introduced by the Higher Education Commission (HEC) until I stepped into the classroom myself. There’s so much more going on behind the scenes—so much structure, so much vision—that you don’t appreciate until you’re living it day to day.

Then came artificial intelligence, and suddenly everything shifted again. With tools like ChatGPT and access to endless information online, teaching is no longer about delivering facts. Our students can find those in seconds. What they can’t Google is how to think clearly, how to ask better questions, or how to understand themselves and the world with depth and care. That’s where we come in.

Teaching today is about helping young people become thoughtful, curious, and grounded. It's about giving them the tools—not just to succeed in their careers—but to live meaningful lives. To think independently. To know who they are. That kind of teaching starts with humility. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that good mentorship isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about listening, being present, and growing alongside your students.

And let’s be honest—today’s world is noisy. There’s so much coming at them, all the time. In this chaos, we don’t just need graduates who know things. We need people who can pause, reflect, and choose wisely. People who can tell the difference between a trend and a truth.

We also need to remember that no two students are the same. They each bring their own stories, struggles, and strengths. That’s why I believe in personalized, purposeful teaching—something that speaks to the individual and not just the classroom. Our role isn’t to mold everyone into the same shape. It’s to help each person become more fully themselves.

Sometimes the best moments in teaching come out of nowhere—a quiet student asking a bold question, a class discussion taking an unexpected turn. These are the moments that remind me why I do this work.

But there’s a bigger picture, too. We live in a time when disinformation spreads faster than facts, and extremes drown out reason. If we’re going to make it through this, we need young people who can think for themselves, who have the courage to ask hard questions, and the clarity to challenge easy answers.

And we can’t talk about education without talking about poverty. It robs people of opportunity and dignity. If we truly want students to thrive, we have to care about their lives outside the classroom too—what they eat, where they sleep, how they feel about themselves.

We also need to think about the world they’re inheriting. Climate change isn’t an abstract idea anymore. It’s personal. The land, the water, the food on our tables—it’s all part of a bigger story. Part of being educated, I believe, is understanding that story and feeling responsible for it.

In the end, education is more than a job. It’s a moral commitment. Every class, every conversation, every bit of encouragement we offer—these are investments in the future. Most of the time, we don’t see the impact right away. But we keep going. Because we believe in our students, and we believe that what we do matters.The recent training has served as a profound and transformative journey—one that has reoriented my understanding of the complex ecosystem of higher education. It was not merely a series of sessions; rather, it unfolded as a carefully curated intellectual odyssey—spanning the critical domains of research methodology, funding strategies, pedagogical innovation, digital transformation through AI integration, and the nuanced art of constructing Program Learning Outcomes (PLOs). Each of these domains was not presented in isolation, but embedded within an integrated discourse, masterfully navigated by the seasoned faculty and academic leaders of our institution. Their collective wisdom stitched together a fabric of learning that was both rigorous and reflective.

What emerged was not just technical competence but a philosophical awakening—an invitation to reimagine the role of the academic not merely as a transmitter of knowledge, but as a curator of narratives, a designer of learning environments, and a custodian of cultural and intellectual integrity. I found myself interrogating deeply held assumptions about academic authority, teacher identity, and professional conduct, especially within the culturally intricate and politically sensitive context of our society.

It is here that the training became deeply personal and intellectually demanding. It challenged me to deconstruct the teacher's ego and reconstruct, instead, a professional persona rooted in ethical restraint, narrative discipline, and socio-political awareness. In institutions where diversity is not just demographic but ideological, emotional impulsiveness, righteous indignation, or unchecked critique often do not translate into reform; instead, they become distractions—clouding judgment, eroding collegial harmony, and stalling personal growth.

As one matures within the corridors of higher education—navigating policies, accreditation frameworks, quality assurance mechanisms, and institutional politics—one comes to a humbling realization: the system is not perfect, but it is systematic. It may not be revolutionary, but it is evolutionary. Within it lies a tacit demand for intellectual maturity: that one must transcend personal grievances to engage with structural complexities with clarity, composure, and constructive intent.

To be critical, yes—but not at the cost of becoming unproductive. To question, certainly—but with the aim of contributing, not merely confronting. To dissent, where necessary—but always within a framework of respect, research, and reform-mindedness.

This training has, therefore, done more than enhance my professional skillset. It has offered a philosophical recalibration. I now recognize that my most meaningful contribution as a researcher, educator, and institutional actor lies not in the intensity of my reactions, but in the depth of my understanding; not in the volume of my critique, but in the precision of my contributions; and above all, not in personal assertion, but in the collective upliftment of learning communities I am privileged to serve.

I’m grateful to be part of this journey. I’m especially thankful to our Vice Chancellor, Dr. Tahmina Mangan, whose support and leadership have made this work possible.