I drove to Tagaytay the other day to speak to some high school students on the topic of friendship beyond graduation. While thinking about my approach, I decided to go back to fundamentals and simply tell my story and my relationship with my friends. I started from our teenage years all the way to the present.

I wanted them to see that someone my age — someone who now appears more formal, controlled in action and mature — once had a past they could relate to. And I think this is the power of stories: people listen to them, people are entertained by them, and through them, ideas quietly make their way across.

I was amused by how engaged the students were. They listened closely, laughed often and even asked questions about the people in the stories. They did not ask for a lesson, and I did not explicitly give them one. I simply described what friendship meant to me through stories, yet in the end, they brought home their own insights.

The experience reminded me of Prof. EDMO. He was a great writer, speaker and teacher. In class, he would often present complicated PowerPoint slides but simplify them through stories. Because of this, we were able to understand difficult ideas naturally and draw lessons from them ourselves. It never felt forced; it felt more like an exchange of stories than a formal lecture.

People listen to stories for many reasons. Sometimes it is curiosity, sometimes the lessons they carry, and sometimes the simple desire to connect with another person. Stories humanize people. This is why we often remember individuals not through frameworks or achievements, but through the stories they tell and the stories told about them. I think the students listened not merely because they were expected to, but because stories allowed a genuine connection to form between us.

A good story is emotionally charged — whether through laughter, fear or sadness. The actions of the characters should align with the values they portray, making the story feel believable and authentic. And a good story should be engaging enough to leave people wanting more. When these elements come together, listeners begin to reflect on the story and draw their own insights from it. That is what makes a good story powerful.

Perhaps this is what teaching should be. It should be like a good story — subtle, unforced and relatable. Teaching should feel less like the downloading of frameworks and methods, and more like a meaningful conversation, because people often remember good stories far longer than they remember frameworks.