Running observatory tours as a student taught me two important lessons about communication and curiosity, thanks to an eight-year-old's question. In my first year of a science degree, I landed a job as an astronomy guide at the Sydney Observatory, leading groups of about 20 people through telescopes, a 3D theatre, and a planetarium. The experience shaped how I explain complex ideas and why I now believe every question deserves respect.
The Job: Leading Observatory Tours
Each tour involved showing stars and planets through telescopes, but cloudy Sydney skies often forced us indoors. We'd explore the universe via a 3D theatre or pile into the cosy planetarium to peer beyond what light pollution and clouds obstructed. My favourite object was the Hubble Ultra Deep Field image, which I used to deliver a sense of cosmic scale.
Before revealing the image, I'd explain how the Hubble Space Telescope stared at a piece of sky the size of a grain of sand held at arm's length for 11 days, collecting enough light to look into the farthest corners of the universe. Then I'd zoom in, and at least one person would audibly gasp. I'd get them to spot the spiky objects—four obvious stars in our Milky Way—and seal the existential crisis by saying: "Those spiky objects are stars. Everything else you see in this image, every blob, every smudge, every tiny speck … is a galaxy." Cue shock and awe.
The Eight-Year-Old's Question That Changed Everything
On one tour, the clouds were not cooperating. After the planetarium show, a young girl—about eight years old—approached me with a question that stopped me in my tracks. She asked something so simple yet profound that it exposed a gap in my own understanding. I don't recall the exact words, but the essence was: why did the universe have to be so big? It was a question that didn't have a neat answer, and I realised I had been so focused on delivering facts that I'd neglected the human need for meaning.
That moment taught me two lessons. First, the best questions often come from those with the least preconceptions. Second, a good guide doesn't just transmit information—they create space for wonder and dialogue. I had been performing a monologue; she invited a conversation.

Why This Matters for Science Communication
Effective science communication isn't about dumbing down complex ideas; it's about connecting them to what people already care about. The girl's question reminded me that facts alone don't satisfy curiosity—they need to be framed in a way that resonates with human experience. This is true whether you're explaining galaxies or guiding someone through a career change.
In any role where you educate or lead, listening is as important as speaking. When someone asks a question that seems naive, it often reveals a deeper insight. Embracing those moments can transform a routine tour into a memorable experience.
- Ask questions back to understand what someone really wants to know.
- Use analogies that connect to everyday life, like a grain of sand at arm's length.
- Don't fear silence—give people time to process awe-inspiring information.
- Treat every question as valid, regardless of the asker's age or background.
- Admit when you don't know; it builds trust and shows authenticity.
How the Lessons Apply Beyond the Observatory
Those two lessons—respect for curiosity and the power of dialogue—have stuck with me in every job since. Whether you're leading a team, teaching a class, or writing content, the principle is the same: meet people where they are. This approach is echoed in stories like how a gopher job at a law firm taught me life lessons, where seemingly menial tasks revealed deeper truths about human interaction.
Similarly, my year as a gopher taught me the value of errand runners, highlighting how every role offers opportunities to learn if you pay attention. And in the legacy of kindness: what Sam Neill taught us about life, we see how a simple act of kindness can leave a lasting impact—much like a child's question can reshape your perspective.
Building Trust Through Honest Communication
When I admitted to the eight-year-old that her question was profound and that I didn't have a perfect answer, it strengthened our connection. People appreciate honesty, and it's a cornerstone of E-E-A-T (Experience, Expertise, Authoritativeness, Trustworthiness) in content creation. Just as home ownership lessons from women who taught themselves show the value of self-directed learning, my experience demonstrates that expertise grows when we remain open to being taught by others.
In the realm of celebrity, Natalie Cassidy EastEnders matriarchs taught me acting lessons that resonate with the idea of learning from unexpected sources. And a toy store job taught me feminism at 15: a retail awakening illustrates how a first job can spark a lifelong awareness of social issues—just as my observatory job sparked a commitment to thoughtful communication.
What to Watch Next
If you're in a role that involves explaining complex topics, pay attention to the questions people ask. They are your best teachers. And if you ever get the chance to run an observatory tour, remember that the most memorable moments often come from the audience, not the presenter. The universe is vast, but the human desire to understand it is even more remarkable.
| Lesson | Observatory Experience | Workplace Application |
|---|---|---|
| Respect curiosity | Eight-year-old's question about the size of the universe | Encourage questions from junior team members |
| Dialogue over monologue | Engaging visitors in spotting stars vs. galaxies | Foster two-way communication in meetings |
| Use relatable analogies | Grain of sand at arm's length | Simplify complex data for stakeholders |
FAQ
What was the eight-year-old's question that taught you two lessons?
The question was essentially about why the universe had to be so big. It was profound because it came from a place of pure curiosity, without the preconceptions adults often carry. It reminded me that the best questions often come from those who haven't yet learned to filter their wonder.
How did running observatory tours change your approach to communication?
It taught me that communication is a two-way street. Instead of delivering a monologue of facts, I learned to listen and respond to the audience's curiosity. This shift from performance to dialogue made the tours more engaging and memorable for everyone involved.
What can other professionals learn from your experience?
Professionals in any field can learn the value of humility and openness. When someone asks a question that challenges your expertise, embrace it as an opportunity to learn and connect. It builds trust and often leads to deeper understanding for both parties.

Why is it important to admit when you don't know something?
Admitting uncertainty shows authenticity and builds trust. It also invites collaboration and further inquiry. In science communication, pretending to have all the answers can alienate your audience; honesty about the limits of knowledge makes the learning process more inclusive and honest.