This week, thousands of young people across Scotland received their exam results. Some opened messages and envelopes with delight and relief. Others experienced disappointment, uncertainty, or perhaps a sense that the future they had imagined had suddenly shifted shape.
By now, the immediate moment has passed. Conversations have taken place around kitchen tables. Decisions have begun to be made. Alternative paths have been explored. In a few short weeks schools will open their doors again, classrooms will fill, and another academic year will begin.
Yet as the noise around grades and achievement recedes, I find myself reflecting on a different word altogether – encouragement.
I’ve always loved exploring where words come from. Sometimes their origins reveal meanings we have forgotten. The word encouragement comes from the Old French encoragier, itself rooted in corage, meaning heart. Beneath that lies the Latin cor or cordis, meaning heart itself. To encourage someone is therefore not merely to praise them. It is to put heart into them.
There is something wonderfully profound in that understanding. For praise and encouragement are not the same thing. Praise often looks backwards. It celebrates what has been achieved. Encouragement looks forwards. It gives strength for what is still to come. Praise says, “Well done.” Encouragement says, “Keep going.”
That difference matters. The young person who achieved the results they hoped for will still need encouragement as they take the next step into further education, employment or training. Success, after all, can bring its own anxieties and uncertainties.
Equally, the young person whose results did not reflect their hopes or efforts may need encouragement even more. Not false reassurance. Not empty optimism. But the steady affirmation that a result, important though it may be, is never the full measure of a life.
Most of us can remember individuals who gave us that kind of encouragement. A teacher who believed in us when we doubted ourselves. A parent who recognised possibilities we could not yet see. A friend who reminded us that setbacks need not define us. Their words often remain with us for decades, echoing long after we have forgotten examination grades or assessment scores.
Perhaps this is because encouragement speaks to something deeply human. Psychologists have long observed that people flourish when they develop a sense of confidence in their ability to face challenges and influence their future. We are more resilient when we believe that difficulties can be overcome, that growth remains possible, and that we possess strengths which can be drawn upon in moments of uncertainty. Encouragement nurtures precisely those capacities. It does not remove the obstacle. It does not solve the problem. But it strengthens the person who must face them.
And encouragement matters not only for individuals. It matters for communities too. The strongest communities are not necessarily the wealthiest or the most successful. Often they are places characterised by trust, kindness and mutual support. Places where people notice one another. Where neighbours care. Where achievements are celebrated and disappointments shared. Where people instinctively offer assistance, comfort and hope. Such communities do not emerge by accident. They are built through countless acts of encouragement.
Indeed, what is social care at its best if not encouragement in action? Every day across Scotland, social care staff place heart into other people’s lives. A homecare worker encouraging someone to regain confidence after illness. A support worker helping an individual believe in their own choices and aspirations. A care home colleague reassuring a resident who feels anxious or alone. A personal assistant walking alongside someone as they pursue goals that others may have considered impossible.
These moments are often small and unremarkable to outside observers. Yet they have an extraordinary power. They remind individuals of their worth. They restore confidence. They strengthen courage. In that sense, encouragement sits at the very heart of care. And perhaps it sits at the very heart of education as well.
As schools prepare to welcome pupils back over the coming weeks, many young people will arrive carrying different emotions. Some will be excited. Others will be apprehensive. Some will step into new schools, new classes and new friendships. Others will return carrying concerns they have not voiced aloud. This is why the task of education has always been about much more than the transfer of knowledge.
The teachers who shape our lives are rarely remembered solely because they taught us facts. We remember them because they noticed us. They challenged us. They believed in us. They encouraged us. In other words, they gave us heart. Perhaps that is a lesson for all of us, regardless of our age or circumstance.
We live in a world that often excels at criticism. Social media rewards quick judgement. Public debate can descend into division. Many workplaces are rich in targets, measurements and assessments. Yet human beings cannot thrive on evaluation alone. We need encouragement.
We need people who can see possibility where we see limitation. We need people who can hold hope when our own hope is running low. We need people who remind us that worth is not determined solely by achievement, productivity or success.
The coming weeks will see thousands of young people embark upon new journeys. Some pathways will be exactly as planned. Others will take unexpected turns. Life has a habit of doing just that. But perhaps the most important gift we can offer them is not advice, instruction or judgement. Perhaps it is encouragement.
The ancient art of putting heart into another human being. Of reminding them of strengths they have forgotten. Of helping them glimpse possibilities they cannot yet see. Of standing alongside them and saying, quietly but confidently: keep going.
For whatever our age, whatever our circumstance, and whatever road lies ahead, we all need courage from time to time. And we are at our most human when we become keepers of one another’s courage. For encouragement, at its deepest, is nothing less than helping another person to see the light that is already within them.
To close with some words from the poet philosopher David Whyte:
Start Close In
Start close in,
don’t take the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don’t want to take.
Start with
the ground
you know,
the pale ground
beneath your feet,
your own
way to begin
the conversation.
Start with your own
question,
give up on other
people’s questions,
don’t let them
smother something
simple.
To hear
another’s voice,
follow
your own voice,
wait until
that voice
becomes an
intimate private ear
that can
really listen
to another.
Start right now
take a small step
you can call your own
don’t follow
someone else’s
heroics, be humble
and focused,
start close in,
don’t mistake
that other
for your own.
Start close in,
don’t take
the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don’t want to take.
–from David Whyte: Essentials
Photo by sydney Rae on Unsplash
