There are moments in training that stay with you—not because they were planned, but because of what they reveal about learning. One such moment unfolded during a three-day program I was facilitating.

The group was mixed—about 17 men and 8 women. Since we were going to spend a few days together, I chose to spend a little more time on introductions. After everyone had introduced themselves, I added a small activity. In a lighter tone, I said, “Let’s take a quick test—who remembers everyone’s names?” One participant came across as quite confident, even slightly dominant. I invited him to try. He immediately said he wouldn’t be able to remember all the names. I responded, “That’s alright. We’ll do it together.”

At that point, it wasn’t a planned strategy—it was simply a way to ease him into trying.

He began hesitantly, recalling names one by one, row by row. Whenever he paused or missed a name, I filled it in naturally. Between the two of us, we managed to recall most of the group. After covering about three-quarters of the rows, he stopped and said he was done. I acknowledged his effort: “That’s already a fantastic job.” The group applauded, and we moved on.

Over the next two days, I observed a familiar dynamic. Among the women participants, three were relatively vocal, while two remained quiet. Given their backgrounds, this was not surprising. Their socialization and exposure shaped their comfort with speaking in a mixed group, especially in front of men. I made small efforts to engage them—checking in, gently encouraging them, and creating space without pressure. They did begin to open up, but their participation remained limited.

On the last day, during a simple discussion, I invited one of the quieter participants to respond. She hesitated. Perhaps she was about to begin. I waited.

Then, suddenly, the same participant from the first day turned to her and said, “You start. I’ll help you wherever you get stuck.”

I paused for a moment and then said, “That is a very powerful way to support someone—by staying with them as they try.” He smiled and replied, “You taught me that.”

I was slightly surprised. I had not consciously framed this as something to be taught. But then others in the group reminded me of the first day, when I had invited him to recall names and supported him wherever he struggled.

During the training, we discussed ways to build confidence, especially among women participants. What stayed with me was this: the group did not refer to any specific concept or framework.

They referred to a moment they had seen.
They noticed how support was offered.
They made meaning of it in their own way.
And they used it when it mattered.

It made me reflect on something simple: Participants don’t only take away what we explain. They also take away what we model. The tone we set, the way we respond, the space we create—these often teach more than our words ever can.

Photo by Vitaly Gariev on Unsplash