Emergence and vulnerability

Getting up from your place of safety, walking across an ever expanding tiled floor, and receiving feedback about your work in front of the whole class –

We’ve all been there, but, some of us may not want to admit that standing in front of a teacher is possibly the most horrendous thing that could happen to you on a given day.

Although I had told my own English students that I got it; that I remembered how horrible it used to feel to have to talk to my math teacher when I was their age; that I used to spend more time concentrating on not crying than actually learning algebra –

it wasn’t until this summer that I had the opportunity to re-experience this particular type of vulnerability.

During our five week on-campus Masters’ session, I not only completed two courses but also time traveled back to my high school math class. This bonus trip was made possible by sheer exhaustion. As I mentioned in an earlier blog, Emerging Thesis, I had created a super myth about the Masters’ program that not only got me up at 6:00 a.m. to start work, but kept me going throughout the school day (9:00 – 4:00), and fuelled my research efforts from 6:00 p.m. to midnight. My personality, being tenacious, tends to bite into a subject and not let go until there is completion. Add to this the sheer joy of having the time to dip, dive, and wallow in books, discussions, and coffee chats with my fellow travellers and you have a recipe for fatigue. Even though I knew that the Masters’ journey was a year-long endeavour rather than merely a five-week sprint, I threw myself wholeheartedly into the experience.

Even now, I don’t think that I would change my experience this summer. Challenged, tired, emotions bared for all to see – it was a little bit like going to a brainy boot camp. You know, Outward Bound for book enthusiasts. The turning point, my time travel, occurred when the professor called me up to his place at the front of the class to review my mini-thesis proposal. When I stood up from my laptop I was a 52 year old woman, a district principal, and an experienced teacher. I was an Honours Specialist in English Literature, an artist, and a writer. When I sat down, looked into his eyes, and heard his first words about revising my proposal I was my seventeen year old self in math class struggling to hold back tears.

By mutual agreement, we took our conference outside. Amidst the July shrubbery and Smokanagan-laden breeze we held the space. Not much was accomplished regarding my thesis proposal, but I did learn something about vulnerability.

When listening to Brené Brown’s Ted Talk  I connected instantly to her research that vulnerability is necessary to living in a whole hearted way (10:03). Vulnerability is not comfortable but it is part of collaboration, creativity, consensus, and many other good things. Being vulnerable is being willing to try something you’ve never done before, to “breathe through” tough moments, and to continue on a path in spite of uncertainty. My seventeen year old self did not learn much about math because she couldn’t talk to her teacher. She survived math class by sitting in front of the smartest math student and asking questions. She could not allow herself to be vulnerable.

I’m thankful that both my fifty-two year old self and my professor were more comfortable with the uncomfortable. In the end, it resulted in clearer communication and a stronger mini-thesis proposal.

My parting thought is to consider Brené Brown’s assertion that you cannot have creativity without vulnerability. If this is true, can the same be said for emergence?