By Ines Kudo
At Acton, the ultimate goal of a Socratic Guide is to become invisible. To grow so unnecessary that the studio no longer needs you, and the Pumas can manage themselves completely. In practice, it means letting go and resisting every instinct to step in, even when learners seem lost, distracted, or headed straight into trouble. That’s the hardest part, one that I still struggle with.
Becoming irrelevant doesn’t mean I won’t be there for them. It means I won’t intervene unless asked. And even then, I respond with questions and options, not answers or solutions. Saying it is easy, following through… not so much.
What is the most challenging for me is when I see them getting seriously off track. Some Pumas can play around and still finish their goals. They go home, catch up, and stay accountable. But others struggle more. Distraction turns into delay, which turns into stress, and then into paralysis and more distraction. And I want, so badly, to say, “Pumas, focus.” I want to nudge them. The urge to “save” them is so ingrained in us. But I know I shouldn’t. And I try, every day, not to.
Of course, I fail from time to time… more often than I care to admit. When that happens, I take a breath, share it with the other guides, and promise myself to do better. And I do.
I practice trust. I trust they’ll take ownership, refine their strategies, and grow through experience. I trust setbacks are not the end, but fuel. I trust they’ll emerge stronger and wiser.
And something beautiful happens when you trust learners: they begin to ask you to be less involved. They become your allies, as much as you are theirs.
This year, in our 360° feedback surveys, the Pumas gave me some of the clearest, most actionable feedback I’ve ever received in my career. In the first session, they told me:
“You can motivate us more to talk in English.”
“She can improve in not answering questions, although she didn’t answer a lot.”
“When we talk in Spanish, you answer.”
In other words: step back even more. Hold the line. Let us grow. Trust.
I took their feedback as fuel to keep me going. And the next session, they noticed:
“She was very good at being Socratic and improved since last session.”
“You are almost always Socratic and praise our actions.”
“You give us specific feedback to grow. Great job!”
Still, they pushed me further:
“You can answer fewer questions.”
“When we talk in Spanish, you still answer.”
So I kept working on it. And this last session, they showed me they have noticed and appreciated my efforts:
“You are always so Socratic, especially during discussions.”
“You improved a lot on just answering when we talked to you in English.”
Their latest suggestions weren’t about structure or control. They were about subtle improvements in presence and intentionality:
“You can give more praises.”
“You can read the challenges and launches beforehand.”
They’re not asking me to lead. They’re asking me to show up better while staying out of the way. That’s what becoming irrelevant means: not abandoning them, but creating a space so full of structure and trust that learners know it’s theirs to lead.
And they do.
When I traveled to the Acton Founders Conference, I asked them if they wanted a volunteer adult to accompany them for the three days I’d be away. They said no. They preferred to take charge.
They chose a leader for each day, followed the printed schedules, held Socratic discussions, and completed their challenges. They played. They got distracted. But they owned their space.
The day after I returned, my alarm didn’t go off. I arrived late to Parents Coffee, where families observe the morning launch silently. When I entered, I found the families seated and the Pumas nervously leading the launch themselves. They had started on time. No one told them to do it. But they knew: if the guide is not there, they are.
Another day, I had a meeting outside campus that overlapped with a group activity. When I came back, I found them already working: organized, collaborative, focused.
Everywhere I look, I see learners rising. And I see myself stepping back and trusting more.
This is what becoming irrelevant looks like: when learners not only can lead without you, but want to. When they tell you –clearly, kindly– how to give them more space. They know what they need, what they want, and what they can do.
At Tinkuy, we say learning is a Hero’s Journey. And for guides, that journey includes learning to let go. To trust that young people will rise when given the chance.
This has been such a powerful journey of growth for me. I can’t put into words how much I’ve learned from these young people; how deeply they inspire and amaze me, every single day, just by being the heroes they are.
So here’s my invitation to you: If you’re a parent, a guide, or someone passionate about education, ask yourself: How can I give young people more room to lead? How can I offer less control and more trust?
Because when children ask you to become irrelevant, it means you’ve done your job. And when you step back, they step forward.
