During Teacher Appreciation Week, we often celebrate what teachers do. Sometimes, though, it’s why they teach that tells the real story.
Yousuf Marvi, a member of the Dawoodi Bohra community in Orange County, California, didn’t always imagine himself in a classroom. With degrees in mathematics, economics, and international relations, his sights were once set on a career in finance. But life led him in another direction.
Today, he’s a National Board Certified mathematics teacher, a Teach for America and a Diversity in Leadership Institute (DLI) fellow, and a lifelong advocate for equitable education. Over the past thirteen years, he’s taught in public schools across California, helped students secure second rank globally in the FTC Robotics competition, created college access programs, and even learned Spanish to better serve his students' families.
We sat down with Yousuf Marvi to ask him what keeps him going—and what teaching really means to him.
Did you always want to be a teacher?
Never. Originally, I thought my path would be in finance. Given my education background, I was headed toward data analysis.
But I had some rough experiences in public education. I saw how even good schools could fail certain students. Why did some get every opportunity while others were pushed off track?
I cared enough to be frustrated. A close friend finally said, “If you care so much, why not put your money where your mouth is?” That’s when I applied to Teach for America. I thought I was signing up for two years. Instead, it became a lifelong mission.
What was that experience with Teach for America like?
Transformative. They trained me in Los Angeles and placed me in one of the lowest-performing middle schools in Las Vegas. My students faced real challenges—some wore ankle monitors, many struggled with basic reading and math.
I had no formal teaching background, and in my early days, I remember staying up all night just to prepare a lesson on integers. On that unit, only 2 out of 137 students passed their test. I remember lying awake, thinking, What have I stepped into? But deep down, I already knew: this mattered.
You often speak about the influence of faith in your teaching. How does that influence your approach to students?
Teaching isn’t just about content. It’s about seeing each student—really seeing them—their strengths, struggles, and potential.
For me, faith teaches the importance of creating access and dignity. That means making sure no student is overlooked, no matter their background. Especially with female students, it’s not just about opening the door—it’s about giving them the support and confidence to walk through it on their own terms.
How did you guide a robotics team to second place in the world?
That recognition actually came a bit later. I began teaching robotics at an elementary school, where we were just getting students excited about engineering and problem-solving. It was a brand-new program, full of curiosity and learning. My wife and I spent weekends and holidays working with the kids, and even my wife’s managing director got involved and donated to the team. This experience really showed me what inclusion could look like. I really worked hard to involve my female students. In the beginning, the boys came charging in, but over time, the girls took over and really took the lead. They were amazing.
The world championship milestone happened when I was teaching high school. As the faculty advisor, I helped with fundraising, logistics, and partnerships — but the students fully earned the award through their hard work.
One of the really neat parts of the experience was the partnership with US Air Force. Through it, I got some leadership training while the students got access to some really cool technology and a driver-seat view to the intersection of technology, AI, and national defense.
You also organized college access programs. What motivated you to focus on that?
Ambition means nothing without access. I’ve met so many brilliant students who didn’t even know college was a possibility.
So we didn’t just talk about college—we walked them through it. Applications, financial aid, imagining bigger futures.
One of my students became an attaché to a Nevada State Senator. Another messaged me years later—they’d gotten into Yale.
It’s not just about where they end up. It’s about helping them believe they belong.
You learned Spanish to connect better with students’ families. What was that like?
Incredibly rewarding—but very, very important. Most of my students came from Spanish-speaking homes, often with limited formal education. But one thing was clear: the love parents have for their children is universal.
I realized I couldn’t serve them well if I couldn’t communicate. So I immersed myself in Spanish—not to be fluent, but to be present. To show respect.
Has your approach to teaching changed over time?
It has. I used to think I was teaching math. But really, I’ve been teaching students how to think, how to persevere, and how to believe in themselves beyond a letter grade.
In high-achieving districts, kids sometimes tie their self-worth to their performance. If they don’t get top marks, they feel like they don’t matter. That’s heartbreaking. So I make sure to reach every student—not just the ones doing well with their grades. You can’t just teach the material. You have to connect with them on an individual level. That’s when real learning happens.
Ten years from now, what do you hope your students remember about you?
That I was just a guide.
In Spanish, maestro doesn’t just mean teacher—it means conductor, someone who shapes the journey. In Urdu, ustaad can mean scholar, but also a craftsman—someone who helps you figure things out.
I hope they remember I walked beside them. That I believed in them, even when they didn’t believe in themselves.
