Existing almost as long as the profession itself is the phrase, “those who can’t, teach.” Before I dedicated nearly a decade of my life to becoming a teacher, I remember feeling that it was true. How could teaching be that hard? Weren’t you just regurgitating information to half-interested students, then going home to grade? Not at all. In fact, I soon learned that it may be the hardest profession in the world. Time and time again, I’ve wished I could’ve shown those confused about what it takes to teach what it’s really like. Then, I watched Ted Lasso.
The premise is straight-forward. Take an American college football coach (and eager optimist) and recruit him to coach a soccer team in the English Premier League. Throw in a team owner who’s praying for his downfall, reluctant teammates, a divorce, and a country that won’t accept him — and you have Ted Lasso. What I didn’t expect woven into the plot was an earnest, realistic, and intimate glimpse into what teaching is like. In fact, through its incredible commitment to honouring the experiences of Ted (Jason Sudeikis), his colleagues, and his team, Ted Lasso has inadvertently written one of the greatest love letters to the teaching profession that exists.
As the series intends, it’s easy to believe (see what I did there?) in Ted’s optimism. It’s contagious, even if it veils his struggles. Barely five-minutes into the Pilot, we see a fellow traveller en-route to England joke that Ted’ll be murdered for doing something as “stupid” as accepting his coaching job. Shortly after, Ted tells his assistant, Coach Beard (Brendan Hunt), “Hey, but taking on a challenge is a lot like riding a horse isn’t it? If you’re comfortable while doing it, you’re probably doing it wrong.” Unbeknownst to me, that phrase would hold so much more meaning the further I tread into both the show and my own teaching journey.
In Parker J. Palmer’s book, The Courage to Teach, his central quote is that, “We teach who we are.” It is near impossible not to bring your whole self to the classroom, and even harder to deny that good teaching takes into consideration each student’s whole self too. Ted teaches who he is. It’s where Ted Lasso’s signature “Believe” sign comes in; a symbol for the unwavering authenticity of both Ted, and authenticity he believes can come from his team. Ted acknowledges who his team and colleagues are. He treats each person he interacts with as a whole person, and even puts himself in the most vulnerable of positions to prove to his circle that he is on their side.
We see this with Jamie (Phil Dunster) in the episode “Two Aces,” where for the first time it seems like Ted can be something other than an optimist. He confronts Jamie for his behaviour, and even though smirks of apprehension mingle throughout the room, his speech causes a ripple effect. Those bullied by Jamie seem to feel even slightly more confident in their skin. Others begin to find their voices. Though Jamie does eventually leave the team and develop resentment towards Ted, the events push him closer to the emotional maturation he achieves in the second season, and the eventual strengthening of the whole team as a unit, including him. It is here the show both allows Ted to preach with love as who he is, but to also respect himself enough to take the first step towards establishing boundaries.
These strategies, however, are not without consequences. We see Nathan “Nate” Shelley (Nick Mohammed), someone who rises through the ranks because of Ted’s acceptance in the first season, become the “villain” of the third. Although this is a shocking revelation in “Midnight Train to Royston,” the reasoning is not so surprising upon closer inspection. We are so distracted by Ted’s inner life in the season that we miss what happens in the “classroom.” Ted’s focus — and the show’s — shifts. Nate is a part of the staff now. The praise from Ted he clung to can’t be replicated when he’s faced with his own demons, and it backfires on Ted, and himself. What Nate does to Ted is not okay; but even then, Ted’s eventual confrontation creates room for understanding on both ends. We see Nate as the tragic figure of a system that’s failed him, as we often do with students who have been bullied, abandoned by the structures meant originally set-up to support them.
These are the very common nuances found in teaching that Ted Lasso represents so accurately. The dichotomy between what we bring to class and what we may go through at home, away from our students. The smiles and resilience required during school hours, no matter the challenges faced behind closed doors. One of the most gruelling parts of teaching are the Jamie Tartt and Nathan Shelley conversations. They can be catalysts for respect — which we see happen almost immediately after Jamie is confronted — but they can also be immense lessons learned on both the student’s, and teacher’s ends. Without the risks and without the vulnerability, it is difficult to earn the trust of those hesitant to learn from you — and Ted consistently proves that he knows this. By having Ted both unapologetically represent who he is, and teach with love, even when it requires tough conversations, decisions, and reflections he sets a precedent for kindness in his “classroom” that forges not only a team on the rise, but a show that’s touched the hearts of so many.
This sense of community is another stand-out fragment of Ted Lasso’s love letter to teaching. As the lens inside the pitch shifts more towards the character’s personal lives in the second season, it only emphasises the importance of honouring every individual experience a teacher like Ted may encounter. Highlighted by the introduction of Dr. Sharon Fieldstone (Sarah Niles) and an explicit emphasis on the importance of mental health, we see the range of experiences any “student” can bring to the classroom, unbeknownst to all. Jamie brings his familial trauma, Rebecca (Hannah Waddingham) brings her resentment, Coach Beard brings his relationship troubles, Roy (Brett Goldstein) brings his wavering self-image, and Ted brings his childhood trauma — and that is just to name a few. No one in Ted’s sphere is exempt from the struggles of daily life, but creating an environment of acceptance and honesty helps foster the unconditional love Ted Lasso has become so well-known for, and that is a gift to any student whose teacher knows just how important this is.
In fact, it’s no surprise that this larger tone of acceptance has contributed to the overall reception of the show. Even through the moments that make us gasp, Ted Lasso never feels like it’s abandoning its viewers. It is a constant, warm hug spearheaded by Ted, and followed closely by all his companions. The energy is contagious, and it’s not difficult to see how Ted’s dedication to his “teaching” pedagogies rubs off on all those closest to him — including the viewer. When Ted has a panic attack for the first time in “Make Rebecca Great Again,” Rebecca (Hannah Waddingham) is there to help him, despite the implication of her role as “villain” of the season. She is there for Ted, because Ted has been there for her, and the show is there for us. This is the power of good teaching.
Watching how sincerely the show has grown with it’s characters and fanbase has made me realise the innate desire we all have for a kind, patient, and understanding “coach” in our lives. It is necessary, and perhaps, explains why the show has held such a dear place in many fan’s hearts since airing in 2020 (and throughout a pandemic that has, in some way, changed all of our lives). I’ve taken many of Ted Lasso’s lessons and applied them to the way I carry myself in my classroom, and sometimes, it shocks me how many similarities there can be found between an Apple TV+ show about British football, and a classroom full of eighth graders in suburban Toronto. At our core, we all want to know we are accepted as we are. Perhaps, as the soon-to-be-teacher I am, I can tell you that you are. Undoubtedly. You just have to believe.
