Violence, trauma, and neglect impact learning, Don’t avoid: look carefully, name accurately. They are the first words on my newly designed website.

The command, as you can see, on a close up, where cracks in tarmac have become chasms. I chose the image carefully too, for cracks, in the presence or aftermath of violence, do become large enough to fall into when we pretend they’re not there.

It’s been an interesting journey as I figured out what I wanted those first words on my site to be, as I began to explore how to present my work, and my approach clearly. Really these words do say it I think. I want us all to acknowledge this truth. Or at least I want everyone to be willing to entertain the possibility, to turn towards it with curiosity, not turn away, fearful of opening a can of worms.

That’s what I’m often told: “it’s a can of worms, better not to go there, safer!” I understand it is often fear that drives the avoidance; fear of getting it wrong, of making a mistake, making it worse. Yet to me the only real mistake is silence, silence that offers no opening for understanding why, a student is behaving as they are: dropping out, missing class, arriving late, staring into space, making a ruckus, or simply failing to learn.

It may seem scary. But silence gives a message in itself. I learned that one well, when Kate Nonesuch, a wise adult educator friend, told me about a situation she observed in her class. A male student was harassing a young woman in class. Kate couldn’t decide what to say immediately. When she did engage, the young woman said: “I saw that you saw him, and when you said nothing, I thought you thought it was OK”

Too often in the silence, the message is that there is something wrong with me, in this case I’m too sensitive perhaps. In the challenge to learn there are so many possible judgments. Too often, there is a simple certainty that “we” know: the educator, administrator, parent, health care worker. We know “they” are lazy, not motivated, not compliant. These judgements, even unspoken, cast blame, and they gain more power, as they reverberate with the student’s own doubts. Like snowballs, something is sure to stick, to make a mess.

In contrast when we name accurately even only to ourselves something shifts in the brain, something slips into place, and in the moment of ease, the nervous system settles a little. The neuroscience is offering us more evidence of the connections between parts of the brain, showing us how the language of the left brain soothes the emotional roar of the right. Then there is the chance to create new patterns, new joy in learning, to avoid travelling the old well-worn paths created in tough times.

So, my response to that can of worms is: “Yes! Open it up, let’s see what’s inside. Otherwise it’s there still, the chaos within, making too much internal noise, making it too hard to learn.” For the nervous system needs to settle, to reach a place of relaxed alertness for the brain to be able to change, and learning is all about change.

To read more about Kate Nonesuch‘s experience check out her wonderful blog Silence Sends a Message