Umida Yuldosheva is the founder and director of Teach For Uzbekistan - a woman who believes that education is the driving force of change. Her path includes studies at the Tashkent Financial Institute, prestigious international programmes such as the John Smith Fellowship and the U.S. State Department’s IVLP, and a PhD in sociology with a focus on social entrepreneurship. She has worked as a researcher in Norway, taught at universities, and supervised World Bank projects, combining academic rigor with hands-on social transformation.
Today, she inspires a new generation of young people in Uzbekistan - those ready not only to dream, but also to change the future of their country. We spoke with Umida about nonviolent communication with children, the role of education, and her personal journey as both a leader and a mother.
ELLE: Umida, tell us a little about yourself. How did your journey begin?
I grew up in the industrial town of Navoi. It was small, but very prosperous. As a child, I thought every school in Uzbekistan provided a good education, because mine had excellent teachers and textbooks - what we called “Moscow-level resources.” But when I graduated from university and began working on different projects, including social initiatives, I realised Uzbekistan is not just Tashkent and not just my small Navoi. In the regions, there are many social challenges, especially in school education.
My first degree was in Finance. Later, I turned to sociology and social entrepreneurship, working with World Bank projects where we evaluated whether initiatives were environmentally safe and socially beneficial. But teaching remains my most valuable experience. Nothing compares to seeing a child light up when they finally succeed at something. Have you ever watched a child draw with such focus that they get completely absorbed by the process, and then suddenly their drawing comes alive? Seeing that is true happiness. I realised that children are born curious, eager to discover the world. However, if you convince them that they “can’t do it,” that spark gradually fades.
When I worked on projects, I had a teacher from the U.S, a Peace Corps volunteer. She told me about her experiences in Africa and other countries, about helping children. She inspired me deeply, and showed me how one person can change your life and become a source of inspiration.
ELLE: What kinds of projects have you been involved in?
We worked on labor migration, gender projects, women’s protection, and expanding women’s economic opportunities. Again and again, we saw so much starts with education. If a child is raised with respect for women or love for nature, a whole layer of social issues can already be resolved.
ELLE: How did the “Volunteer Teachers” project begin?
We organised trips where university professors went to remote regions to teach children free of charge. It was one of the best projects - I saw how kids were inspired and transformed. That became the foundation for Teach For Uzbekistan.
The Teach For All global network is now active in 65 countries. The concept is simple: talented students and graduates, including Ivy League graduates, go to schools in disadvantaged communities. They inspire children and, in turn, grow as leaders who learn to notice and solve social challenges. Ultimately, it’s about much more than education - it’s about collective leadership and raising a new generation of changemakers.
ELLE: What was your vision for Uzbekistan?
Our mission is to nurture a generation of happy lifelong learners - people who love to learn, adapt to change, and contribute to society. For us, it’s not about status or high-paying jobs. Happiness can also mean being a kind, generous person in your village, doing good, and finding joy in everyday life.
We want the children our fellows work with to grow into exactly that - open, curious, and happy. Even after our fellows leave, these children will continue to love learning and seeking out new knowledge.
The world is changing rapidly: new technologies, artificial intelligence, shifting geopolitics. No one knows what skills tomorrow will demand. At Teach For Uzbekistan, we believe the key is raising children who can adapt to changes while keeping the eagerness to help their communities. For us, this is not just lofty rhetoric but a very simple and humane quality: the ability to care for the environment, their neighbors, their classmates.
We also want children to develop a sense of belonging - to their community, to Uzbekistan. Wherever life takes them, they should feel proud of their country and willing to contribute their knowledge and skills back.
ELLE: If nonviolent communication was a school subject, what would your first lesson look like?
Nonviolent communication isn’t a subject. It’s an atmosphere, a way of interacting everywhere: in class, at home, in the store, on the street. Teachers or parents, every adult can create a safe space of respect and dialogue.
If we imagine a lesson built on the principles of nonviolent communication, the first step would be to move away from the traditional “rows of desks.” Instead, children sit in ways that feel comfortable - often in small groups that aren’t arranged by ability or personality, but in a way that allows more outgoing students to support the quieter ones, helping them learn to listen and to care for one another.
The rules of the lesson are created together with the children. In the very first class, they collectively decide what is acceptable and what is not: whether they can stand up without asking, how to signal that they want to speak, how to wait for a turn, and why shouting, teasing, or pushing is not allowed. These agreements become a shared contract, respected by both students and the teacher.
There are no punishments in the usual sense. Instead, there is a light system of “consequences,” also invented by the children. For example, stars for following the rules or “red cards” for interrupting a classmate. This approach helps them understand that society has boundaries that should be respected, but that respecting them should not come from fear or humiliation.
ELLE: If you had the chance to ask every child in Uzbekistan just one question, what would it be?
If I could ask each child in Uzbekistan only one question, I would ask: “What kind of teacher do you dream of?” This question helps us at Teach for Uzbekistan shape real mentors - those who inspire and support.
But as a mother, I would ask a different one: “What do you dream about, and what stands in your way?”
Behind every dream stands the daily reality of school - and the greatest challenge there is discipline without pressure. That is difficult. Even our own fellows sometimes call me in despair during the first months of the program: “The children don’t listen. I can’t manage them.”
My advice is always the same: stay gentle, but remain consistent. Sometimes I joke: “Feel like yelling? Step into the corridor, shout into the open air—and then return to class with a smile.”
Yes, the first months are noisy. Children test boundaries, because it is unusual for them to have a teacher who does not shout or punish. They want to see if the rules can be broken. That’s a normal process. The key is not to give up and not to step back from the framework you set together.
By spring, something close to a miracle happens: the children start following the agreements themselves. They learn that kindness is not the same as permissiveness, and that behind a warm smile stands a clear classroom culture, where respect and rules go hand in hand.
ELLE: What helps you personally stay calm and listen to a child, even when you’re struggling inside?
Someone has to break the cycle of violence and prohibitions. I grew up in a world of gender stereotypes, where breaking a child’s dream was considered normal. I loved riding a bicycle: the wind in my hair, the handlebars in my hands - you feel like you can steer your own life. But one day, in my conservative family, I was told: “No, girls are not allowed.” I was twelve. Soon after, I was also forbidden to play football with the boys in my neighborhood.
Becoming a mother, I faced those same limitations again. I have two sons, and I often heard the familiar phrase: “A man must know how to fight back.” But I consciously teach them something different - softness, love, respect. When they come home from school and ask: “Someone threw a backpack at me. Should I hit back?” - I face a dilemma every time: should I encourage toughness or show them a different way?
Today I know for sure: you cannot spoil a child with love. That’s the biggest misconception we were taught to believe. Love doesn’t ruin - it gives strength. So I raise my children with the freedom to be themselves - both girls and boys. Because stereotypes weigh heavily on everyone.
ELLE: What school or family habit do you think most destroys a child’s trust in adults?
In education, the most dangerous moment is when adults react harshly to a child’s mistakes. That instantly extinguishes the spark of curiosity with which children enter the world. They want to try, to test, to experiment.
I remember when my son was four, he decided to throw eggs off the third floor. When I asked why, he replied very seriously: “I wanted to see if a chick would fly out and save itself.” For him, it was not mischief but a small scientific experiment.
But adults often label such curiosity as “restlessness” and try to suppress it. At school, this becomes even sharper: one child learns quickly, another more slowly - and labels immediately appear: “lazy,” “weak.” Yet behind this might be lack of sleep, family responsibilities, or a heavy atmosphere at home.
When a child hears “you won’t succeed,” when they’re shamed for asking questions or compared with top students, they begin to fear trying. They lose not only interest in learning but also trust in adults.
Consistency is key. If we create rules, we must follow them ourselves. Only then can we preserve what matters most: the child’s confidence that the world is open for discovery.
ELLE: Do you have a personal ritual of reconciliation with your children after a conflict?
With my sons, we practice a lot of emotional awareness - the ability to recognize and name emotions. It’s important both for them and for me. Sometimes I snap because of work or fatigue, and that spills over onto them. If I overreact, I make a point of going to them and saying: “This isn’t about you. I was tired and didn’t manage my feelings. I’m sorry.”
I’m not ashamed to apologize to my children. On the contrary, I think it’s important to show that adults can make mistakes too, and can name their emotions.
We talk about what each of us feels: “Are you hurt right now? Why? Do you feel fear or shame?” This is especially important for my younger son, who is nine. When he comes home from school - whether excited or disappointed - I ask: “What do you feel?”
I want my boys to grow up able to recognize their emotions and speak about them openly. Together we explore: what happened, what I feel, what he feels, and what we can do so it doesn’t repeat.
These simple conversations teach the most important lesson: to love, to understand, and to treat each other with care.
ELLE: Has your child ever said something simple that changed your outlook?
One day I realized our path of emotional awareness was truly working. My older son was eleven. I came home for lunch, rushing to cook for him. He was also in a hurry to go out - it was cold outside. I pressed him: “Eat before you leave, don’t forget your hat.” He snapped back irritably, raising his voice.
A few minutes later, I got a text: “Mom, I’m sorry. I was just angry and rushed, that’s why I yelled.”
In that moment, I felt so proud. He not only recognized his emotions, but also expressed them and took responsibility for his reaction. That’s exactly what I try to teach—the awareness of feelings and the ability to voice them. Because awareness gives you the freedom to change.
If, twenty years from now, my children wrote me a letter, I would dream of seeing these simple but most important words: “Mom, we are happy. We love and are loved. We live in a world where money and status matter less than the human values you taught us.”
For me, that is the essence—not to tie them to me, but to give them wings, so they can build lives rooted in love and gratitude.
ELLE: How can we foster discipline without punishment or pressure?
We don’t even call it “discipline” - for us, it’s about creating a classroom culture. That means building an emotionally and physically safe space, where rules are developed together with the children and help learning, not suppress it.
We discuss what might disturb a lesson: for example, during explanation, you can’t get up unnecessarily, hit, or call names. The children come up with these agreements themselves - and also create a system of “penalties.” But these aren’t punishments, they’re playful signals: a red card, missing a small bonus, or skipping a weekly reward. Grades remain untouched.
The main thing is the adult’s consistency. A teacher or parent must remain emotionally stable, not show irritation - even if it’s hard. When a child sees calmness and consistency, trust follows.
The same principle works in families. Instead of rigid prohibitions, we make agreements: limit gadget time, go on picnics, read together. What truly educates is not punishment, but the example of adults who follow the same rules they ask of their children.
ELLE: What are the next regions Teach for Uzbekistan plans to reach?
In 2024, twelve of our fellows worked in some of the most remote areas of Kashkadarya - Kukdala and Chiroqchi. Today, thirty more have gone to Surkhandarya - Muzrabot, Qiziriq, Termez. Next year, the movement will expand to Karakalpakstan and return again to Kashkadarya. The two-year fellowships are ending, and the need for new forces is growing.
Each participant launches a personal project based on their background. An economics teacher runs financial literacy courses for children and adults. An IT specialist trains both students and teachers in digital skills. A chemistry teacher opened an art studio where children sculpt clay figurines. Others lead gender workshops, organize children’s camps with games and quests. Two fellows even created an AI-Ustoz platform to train teachers in new methods.
The organization itself is developing an online platform for professional growth: any teacher in the country can access free training and improve their skills. Another major initiative is the Foundation Literacy and Numeracy project, which starts with testing to determine real knowledge levels and then builds an individualized learning plan.
There’s also a regional environmental initiative, developed jointly with Teach for Kazakhstan and Teach for Kyrgyzstan. Fellows are designing a children’s climate education program - from explaining the causes of climate change to creating eco-projects like planting trees, installing bins, or other creative student ideas.
Funding largely comes from local businesses. Gradually, a new culture of philanthropy is emerging - entrepreneurs are moving beyond one-time donations to support long-term social projects.
Teach for Uzbekistan shows that real change grows out of small initiatives—when they are supported by the community, from teachers to businesses.
