Shoutout to Brené Brown as I embrace my vulnerability and shame. I want to be very clear by stating that I began this work in the midst of brokenness. Prior to Beauvais, I had taught for over 20 years in Canada’s French Immersion program (and two years in Amman, Jordan). In 2018, I was ready to transition from elementary school (where I stayed far longer than I wanted to because I was first and foremost a mother to my children who attended that school) to my first teaching love, high school. My employer told me that my French language wasn't good enough. I had poured my heart and soul into this subject. I still vividly recall leaving my grade 7 classroom on the last school day in June, tears streaming down my face, having no idea what I would do in September.
Brokenness is a constant theme in my work.
Every single one of my students, and certainly the 25 I interviewed, were with me in the midst of shattered lives. They had all agreed to a stay at a psychiatric inpatient unit, where they hoped to receive help for their mental health and substance use disorders. They certainly spoke about being broken in their school journey, as well as in many relationships (mostly with family).
I think teachers are broken. I don't believe we have recovered from the demands of Covid- and post-Covid-teaching. We now face students who, I suggest, are less engaged, lack self-worth, and battle their own wellness more than ever before. Teachers in turn battle wellness, and simply due to the fact that we are human, personal struggles far removed from “work” are inevitably ours.
I share this to highlight the power of brokenness. We all enter spaces as shattered-selves, yet shattered can be our empowerment. We all have wounds–previous and ongoing–in some form or another. Yet, within broken is promise; we can use past hurts to heighten our ability, as we have experiences that make us more attuned, understanding, and aware.
My students' brokenness has had a radical impact on me, where I now endeavour to pass on what they taught me. So in my vulnerability and shame, I want to elevate brokenness as a being that does not impede our daily encounters with others, but that disentangles us from our past.
Brokenness is a constant theme in my work.
Every single one of my students, and certainly the 25 I interviewed, were with me in the midst of shattered lives. They had all agreed to a stay at a psychiatric inpatient unit, where they hoped to receive help for their mental health and substance use disorders. They certainly spoke about being broken in their school journey, as well as in many relationships (mostly with family).
I think teachers are broken. I don't believe we have recovered from the demands of Covid- and post-Covid-teaching. We now face students who, I suggest, are less engaged, lack self-worth, and battle their own wellness more than ever before. Teachers in turn battle wellness, and simply due to the fact that we are human, personal struggles far removed from “work” are inevitably ours.
I share this to highlight the power of brokenness. We all enter spaces as shattered-selves, yet shattered can be our empowerment. We all have wounds–previous and ongoing–in some form or another. Yet, within broken is promise; we can use past hurts to heighten our ability, as we have experiences that make us more attuned, understanding, and aware.
My students' brokenness has had a radical impact on me, where I now endeavour to pass on what they taught me. So in my vulnerability and shame, I want to elevate brokenness as a being that does not impede our daily encounters with others, but that disentangles us from our past.