I came across a relatively new blog, AccountancyIQ, written by Nasir Uddin, a teacher of accounting and auditing:

The blog teases the following…

• Are you ready to elevate your accounting and auditing expertise? Join me, a seasoned ACCA and ICAEW educator, on AccountancyIQ, where I’ll help you bridge the gap between theory and practice. Together, we’ll unlock a treasure trove of insights, examples, and anecdotes to ignite your passion and empower your career journey. Let’s embark on this mission of “Empowering Learners” to reach your full potential in the world of accounting and auditing.

…and might actually be capable of delivering on that. Uddin is a strikingly elegant writer (much more so than the quasi-hack you’re reading at the moment), often expressing himself with an almost poetic grace, for example in a piece on whether accountancy should be grouped with the STEM disciplines:

• The heart of the distinction lies not in the tools used, but in the nature of the reality being measured. When a physicist measures the acceleration of a falling object, the laws they reference are indifferent to human interpretation.
• Gravity does not require consensus. When an accountant measures profit, however, the “laws” are human constructions, endlessly reinterpreted, amended, and debated. Profit, revenue, asset are not constants of nature, but agreements among people, crafted by committees, susceptible to politics, judgment, and even cultural differences.
• …numbers in accounting do not stand alone; they are always tethered to human hopes, compromises, and sometimes, convenient illusions. If anything, appreciating this difference makes one respect accountants even more. They are not merely technicians. They are interpreters of a world that is constantly shifting, endlessly debatable, and often morally fraught. And so, a question lingers, unanswered but necessary:
• Should we be relieved, or troubled, that one of the most important languages of modern life, the language of profit, loss, value, is not a science at all, but a kind of human poetry disguised in numbers? Perhaps, in a world increasingly obsessed with precision, there is a quiet wisdom in remembering that some of our most vital systems remain irreducibly human. Messy, beautiful, fallible, and, for that reason, deserving of our scepticism, as well as our trust.

Fallibility might be a recurring feature of the blog, but as noted there, not as something to be damned, to aim to stamp out through endless compliance and oversight measures, but rather as a quality to be examined, mused over, even cherished. Take a recent example on how a bitcoin revaluation gain boosted the profits of Tesla:

• … just because something is true in the market doesn’t mean it reflects the substance of a business. Tesla didn’t innovate its way to that $600 million. It didn’t become more efficient, or more sustainable, or more aligned with its mission. It just happened to hold an asset that went up, and now the rules allow it to call that progress.
• Accounting is supposed to tell a story. Not a perfect story, perfection is impossible, but a faithful one. A story that captures the risk, the effort, the value being created (or lost) over time. And the risk now is that, in the name of transparency, we’ve invited in a kind of noise. Markets move, Bitcoin swings and suddenly, earnings swing with it too, not because of the company’s performance, but because of the asset’s mood.

And by the way, Uddin is capable of writing about Tesla without taking major shots at Elon Musk, which a quick search of this blog will show to be beyond the capacity of your current correspondent. Here’s one last extract, from his initial post, reflecting on being an accounting teacher, a task sometimes evoking how Sisyphus was condemned to “(push) a boulder up a steep mountain, only to see it tumble back down, time and again”:

• …at times, I feel like I’m trying to explain the rules of cricket to a penguin. Eyes glaze, doodling in notebooks starts, and I discover my apparently fierce competition with smartphones and daydreams. But then, now and then, I catch a glimpse of that miracle-the aha moment. That exact instant a concept clicks. A student’s eyes light up as if they just cracked the Da Vinci Code of financial statements.
• That’s the silver lining, that sweet spot, that “rolling the boulder to the top of the hill” kind of moment.
• What about the view from the summit?
• It’s just magnificent!
• There’s a unique joy in witnessing that illuminating moment when a student finally comprehends a difficult concept. Or observing the pride that lights up their faces as they conquer a challenging problem. These are the moments that render all the efforts of boulder-pushing invaluable. It’s akin to reaching the peak of Everest, planting your flag, and reflecting, “I helped them get here. I made a difference.”

Even outside the classroom, I think the perspectives of a writer of such infectious lightness and intelligence may indeed make a difference…

The opinions expressed are solely those of the author.