Suma George

Artist, Blogger, Christian, Educator/Teacher, Environmentalist, Explorer, Idea generator, Writer/Editor

I am a passionate educator, an advocate for student empowerment, as the Head of the Department of English in the Senior School, at The Choice School, Kochi, which bridges the worlds of curriculum and cutting-edge ideas, I believe that the most profound learning happens outside the textbook. I am spearheading efforts to curate an unforgettable experience that embodies the spirit of "Ideas Worth Spreading,” ensuring that the platform showcases diverse voices and sparks meaningful dialogue within the community, I am also scripting narrative structures by taking the audience on an emotional journey, moving them from what they currently believe to a new belief powered by the speaker's core idea. I hold a Masters in English Literature with a Masters in Education and bring 28 years of experience dedicated to curriculum building, fostering critical thinking, integrating technology into the classroom, public speaking coaching, debating and cross cultural communication. I view the TEDx stage not just as an event, but as a vital extension of the classroom—a place where students, faculty, and community members are inspired to reimagine the future of education and beyond. Particularly focussing on mentoring the student logistics team to ensure a seamless on-the-day experience.

Beyond the classroom, I would love to channel a deep-seated passion for creative expression through multiple mediums. An ardent writer, am currently penning my Memoir. This commitment to narrative and structure informs my dynamic approach to teaching and training, where painting also serves as a meditative outlet for visualizing complex ideas. A firm believer in lifelong learning and creation, my drive is fueled by a blend of art and pedagogy. The canvases I paint reflect the vibrancy and complexity that I strive to instill in my students. This creative energy extends to writing books and developing innovative training modules, all rooted in the desire to inspire growth, unlock potential, and communicate powerful ideas effectively.

True education is not the filling of a bucket, but the refining of a lens. By integrating spirituality (the quality of presence) with writing and painting (the tools of expression), we transform learning from a passive chore into an active, soul-level exploration. The Internal (Spirituality): Cultivating the "quiet mind" necessary to perceive deep truths. The Structural (Writing): Using language to organize the chaos of thought into coherent insight. The Visual (Painting): Using colour and form to bypass logic and capture the raw essence of emotion. When we teach students to write and paint as spiritual disciplines, we give them more than just skills; we give them a Sacred Literacy. This allows them to read the world with nuance and write their own story with intention.

Painting, Public Speaking, Teaching, Training, Writing

Look up here. Do you see the screen? It’s empty. It’s perfect. It is, perhaps, the most terrifying sight in the world. For years, I taught writing and creative writing classes, and I saw this terror every single day. The blank canvas. The blinking cursor. The silence before the first word. We call it "writer’s block" or "creative paralysis," but it’s not a block on creativity. It’s a block on courage. My students weren’t afraid of having no ideas. They were afraid of having a bad one. They were afraid of the First Draft. We’ve trained ourselves to see the first attempt not as a necessary step, but as a final, public grade. We’ve all been conditioned to live in a world where perfection is the only acceptable output. Think of the filtered photos on Instagram, the polished quarterly report, or the perfectly memorized presentation. But what if I told you that the fear of the first draft is actually paralyzing human progress? And what if I told you that the single most valuable piece of work you will ever create is the one you are most ashamed of? My life is split between four professions: artist, writer, educator, and blogger. And in every single role, I have learned the same fundamental truth: The messy middle is the only place where genius lives. The polished product is just the certificate of the experience. For the Writer, we have a term for the necessary mess: the vomit draft. It’s the one where you turn off your internal editor and just empty your brain onto the page. You get the argument wrong. The dialogue is stiff. The structure is a complete disaster. But buried inside that garbage is the single, glittering kernel of truth that you can’t find any other way. The vomit draft is the map to your best idea. For the Artist, this is the frenzied charcoal sketch—the one where the proportions are wrong, the colours are muddy, but the energy is electric. A finished oil painting might hang in a museum, but the sketch—that frantic, ugly first attempt—tells the true story of discovery. It’s the closest you get to the original flash of inspiration. So, how do we use this realization to change the world? As an Educator, I realized my greatest job was not to teach students how to write a perfect paper, but how to lower the stakes of the first attempt. I stopped grading first drafts. Instead, I started grading them on their boldness—on how ugly and incomplete they were. When students were freed from the pressure of perfection, their work immediately became more honest, more complex, and more original. We need to grade effort and experimentation, not just outcome. As a Blogger, I learned this lesson in public. The pressure to publish a 2,000-word, fully researched masterpiece every week was exhausting. But when I occasionally threw up a quick, 200-word post—a simple question, an unfinished thought, an honest frustration—those posts went viral. They resonated not because they were polished, but because they were raw and immediate. The audience didn't want the perfect final product; they wanted to participate in the imperfect, ongoing conversation. The world doesn't need your finished work as much as it needs your vulnerability of starting. We need your initial, ugly idea so we can help you revise it. We need your messy, early attempt so we can be inspired to start our own. The greatest block we face today is not a lack of resources, but a cultural fear of inadequacy. We wait until the idea is perfect before we share it, and by then, the moment, the energy, and the funding are gone. So, I propose a shift: Adopt the mindset of the Imperfect Draft. Dedicate the first hour to creating the Ugliest Possible Draft. No self-editing, no spell-check. Write the thing you hope no one ever reads, just to get the truth. Don't wait for the perfect moment or the perfect phrasing. Say the first, slightly clumsy, honest thing. That awkwardness is a sign of authenticity. Stop filtering and curating every experience before you live it. Your life is not a final product for public consumption; it is an incredibly messy, constantly revising draft. The courage isn't in publishing the masterpiece; the courage is in submitting the mess. That mess is where all great ideas—and all great lives—begin.

Behind the calm demeanour of the co-organiser is an individual who actually started my professional journey training teachers and students. I have also taken every opportunity to gain experience in impacting lives by imparting knowledge. This diverse experience is the secret ingredient in my ability to continue to coach and train students, teachers and friends alike.