The Secret Power of the Teaching Hero?

Eric Clayton on Why Bumbling Outsiders Can Change Everything

What happens when your main character isn’t the strongest in the room, but they’re the one who sees what no one else does?

Eric A. Clayton

dives deep into this idea of the “teaching hero”—someone who doesn't just survive the world, but changes it.

These are not chosen warriors. They’re bumbling outsiders—limping, awkward, underestimated—who see the world differently and dare to act on that vision.

We talk Hiccup, Bilbo, and what it means to be a truth-teller when everyone else is trying to just go along to get along. It’s about the ones who don’t fit in. Drawing from spirituality, storytelling, and real-life dynamics like truth-telling in narcissistic systems, we chat about how being offbeat might actually be your greatest gift.

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Eric A. Clayton

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So here's the thing: not every hero is a sword-wielding chosen one.

Some heroes limp. Some fumble. Some can’t stop telling the truth even when it costs them everything. Eric Clayton calls these folks “teaching heroes.”

It started with How to Train Your Dragon. Eric interviewed the director, Dean DeBlois, and Dean casually dropped this phrase—"teaching hero"—to describe Hiccup. That little phrase opened a whole world. Because Hiccup isn’t your typical hero. He’s not growing stronger in the way his culture wants him to. He’s not becoming a better warrior. He can’t.

We make a connection that’s hard to unsee: teaching heroes are like truth-tellers in narcissistic systems. The one person who refuses to play along. Who can’t pretend. Who sees clearly and speaks up. They don’t fit the roles assigned to them. They can’t help but poke holes. It’s uncomfortable, and often they pay for it. But they change things.

If you’re a writer, this can hit home.

Because writing is truth-telling too. And crafting characters like this—people who shift the world by being profoundly themselves—that’s the real work.

Eric brings up How to Train Your Dragon again: that key moment when Hiccup chooses not to kill Toothless. That moment echoes Tolkien’s “It was pity that stayed Bilbo’s hand.” And that choice, that small act of mercy, changes everything.

And speaking of Bilbo—Eric points out that Bilbo might be a teaching hero too. Not because he fights the Battle of the Five Armies (he doesn’t), but because he changes the way everyone else sees things. His awkwardness, his hospitality, his clarity—they ripple outward.

The thread runs deeper. What about Obi-Wan? Or Joan of Arc? Or Ahsoka? Eric doesn’t have it all figured out, but the idea holds. These aren’t always the boldest or strongest characters. But their clarity, their vision, their refusal to play by the script—they change the stakes.

Here’s Eric’s big takeaway: teaching heroes often look bumbling. They don’t quite fit. But maybe that’s the point. Their society sees them as inept, but that lets them see something no one else can.

Eric also brings in the idea of return.

In classic hero’s journey terms, it’s crucial. You can’t just go out, have an adventure, and disappear. You’ve got to bring the insight back.

Hiccup’s mom might be a cautionary tale here. She found the truth. She saw the beauty. But she never came back to change the system. So her arc is… incomplete. A teaching hero who didn’t return?

That return isn’t just a historical event. It’s psychic too. In your psyche. Your spirit. It’s the moment when you realize you’re still you, but you’ve changed. You’ve been through something. And now, you’re here again—but putting the pieces together in a new way.

For Eric, all of this ties into community. You don’t just grow on your own. You bring back what you learn. You collide with others. You walk with people.

Stories matter. The offbeat characters, the awkward ones, the ones who feel too small or too weird to be the protagonist? They might be the ones who remake our world, and help the rest of us see it too.