By John Guy Perrem
Introduction
Teaching is inherently dedicated towards trying to build better futures for both students and society in general. When we teach we imagine the knowledge we impart and the skills we seek to develop will contribute as small useful pieces within the wider tapestry of a student’s life. We hope that as they move forward through the school system, find jobs and eventually build their adult lives they can draw upon such knowledge. The effort we pour into nurturing and building relationships with our students is part of an ideal and tacit long term plan for them all to have long fruitful lives. Of course, many of our students struggle on their young journey through life and education. Still, we expect them to endure, and even if a dream of attaining a place at a desired university is broken, or a familial issue overly burdens them, we imagine they will persist beyond us because that is how things are simply meant to be in a teacher-student relationship.
However, we do not often imagine that our students’ young lives can be suddenly cut short. The death of a student goes against unspoken rules that we will teach and they will learn and thrive. It breaches the feeling that there is a proper order to things and shatters hopes across a range of scales, from the class, to the year, to the whole school, and it has barbs that reach out beyond the school into the wider community. I was unfortunate enough to go through the process of losing a student and this paper is an attempt to encapsulate reflections upon that experience, offer some insights and provide points of departure about loss in a classroom context for other educators to consider.
Prior to my student passing, we had no indication that such a thing would occur and our classes had been proceeding as usual. ‘Usual’ is relative for each teacher’s relationship with each class, but I was fortunate in that I had created a positive learning environment and had good relationships with the class on the whole. I remember the energetic activity of the class in the days before my student passed because that lively dynamic stood in such stark contrast to what was to follow in the coming days. The class had been doing a lot of small group work that week and I had especially enjoyed watching the dynamics unfold with the mixture of personalities working together towards creating posters. Apart from typical minor contentions regarding the best way to phrase something or quibbles over which color palette to use, there was a lively and productive energy in the class. When small group work was taking place the groups would push their tables together and I would walk around the classroom to visit each group in turn to check if any clarifications were needed, offer advice if requested, and pass some constructive comments on the emerging work. The final lesson before the passing of my student proceeded much as described above and when I wrapped up the class for the day and went home, I was wholly unprepared for what would unfold the following morning when I arrived at work.
When I arrived at the school early the next morning, I was immediately asked by two colleagues to come to a small teacher’s meeting room. I thought that this was quite unusual and I began to wonder what could have possibly happened that necessitated such an urgent meeting. I instantly noticed the pain on their faces and that their eyes were red from crying. From their faces and the atmosphere, I knew that whatever I was about to be told was going to change something fundamentally in my life, I was just not certain who exactly it would relate to yet. One colleague could not talk due to their grief and so the other bore the burden of relaying the news that one of my students had died the night before. It is hard to describe the weight of such moments and the emotions that emerge from them. I recall my mind simultaneously racing through many emotions and an opposite sense that everything had suddenly paused. This sense of emotional compression and expansion stayed with me through the coming days and weeks as I tried and often failed to fathom what had happened.
In the wake of my student dying, it was certainly difficult to balance my own emotions with my responsibilities to the class that I had to continue teaching. Two key points that emerge here are that teachers need to find appropriate spaces and management methods for their emotions, and that they must endeavor to still lead their students. It can be helpful then for teachers to seek community and collegial support and resources to aid their own well-being (Cloitre & Koplewicz, 2006) and I will explore these aspects more presently.
The sudden death of a student is a devastating and distressing event that can have a profound effect on a class. This loss can be particularly difficult for students who were close to the deceased, as well as for teachers and staff who had a personal relationship with the student. In this article, I will reflect upon and explore various ways in which the sudden death of a student can impact a teacher and a class, and consider strategies for managing and coping with such a loss.
As mentioned at the outset of this paper, when we teach our students we are doing so from a future oriented perspective. We cover aspects of the world and help prepare students to communicate and interact within it so they can succeed. And so, while helping to fulfill their academic and personal goals we are engaged in the business of ‘hope’. Hope that they will achieve what they wish to and hope that the materials they encounter in the classroom will prepare them well for their future encounters with life. Although strands of the material we cover or use in class may contain aspects of loss, there is not a dedicated aspect which prepares students to navigate the waters in the wake of suffering a loss personally.
From my own experience, the sudden loss of a student can ripple profoundly through almost all facets of the learning environment. The loss can weave through multiple classes and interpersonal interconnections and can even feel embedded in the concrete and stone of an institution. The passing of time lessens the acuteness of the pain, but the loss stays rooted regardless as a type of indelible mark. Upon reflection, my teaching experience was split at the point in time when I lost a student into a ‘before’ period and an ‘after’ period. The ‘after’ period has made me more aware and cognizant of the challenges that accompany managing loss in educational settings. My unpreparedness in the ‘before’ period also made me realize that, although a difficult and uncomfortable topic, devoting some time and consideration to the possibility of losing a student would have been useful in both personal and pedagogic terms. Previously, I had never dedicated time to consider the possibility of losing a student as it seemed overly macabre to do so. But we are not insulated from death simply because we work with young people, be it in primary, secondary, or tertiary education. This article then, is an attempt to draw our focus towards loss in hopes of promoting useful thought processes around the topic as educators.
Teacher grief
While the mental and physical well-being of students is a top priority for us as educators, it should also be noted that teachers also suffer following the loss of a student and may need spaces to express their grief. Losing a student can have a profound impact on non-teaching staff too who also work in the school. As I have mentioned previously, in my own case, my whole teaching practice is divided into a before and after period as a result of the loss. Loss can also be a challenging and emotionally draining experience as teachers. In the days following the loss of my student I attended their funeral and in that very human and communal experience in the presence of their family, the line between the role of being a teacher, and the expectations which that position can bring, and simply being a human who was also grieving, became somewhat blurred. One the one hand, I felt determined to show strength as I had to continue teaching the class, and I wanted to ensure that I appeared composed so students could feel like I could be relied upon if they needed support. While, on the other hand, internally, I battled with the loss I was acutely feeling. In addition to the class that I had to continue teaching, I was also teaching an older sibling of the student I lost in a school club activity. That aspect was especially difficult. As I approached to pay my respects to the family during the funeral and reached out to touch the sibling’s shoulder, I was at a loss for how I would proceed with some form of normalcy in our contact. Both during and in the aftermath of the funeral I felt that I should know what to do, but upon reflection, allowing the sense of ‘not knowing’ and that that sense of uncertainty was completely acceptable as a grieving teacher.
In recent teacher grief research conducted by Dunn (2022, p. 322) other teachers “described hiding emotions they perceived as negative, navigating the teacher role, and supporting students’ needs over their own”. (Dunn, 2022, p. 322). And from my own experience I seemed to have at least partially followed this pattern of behavior that other teachers had similarly adopted at that early stage of grief in the immediate wake of the loss. In my own experience, I turned to my colleagues for support in due course, as they did to me, in order to process and express feelings of shock and grief. And the shared experience of being teachers was helpful in that we had a commonality of experience and vocation to draw upon.
Conducting classes in the wake of loss
I have outlined the feelings and struggles surrounding grief, but what about conducting actual classes in the wake of loss? The empty seat and desk in the classroom proved to be a constant reminder that we had all suffered a profound loss during the running of classes, and this had varying impacts. The loss of a classmate can be a significant source of stress and disruption for students, and it may be difficult for them to focus on their studies in the aftermath of the tragedy. In line with literature on the topic, some of the students in my class did indeed initially struggle to attend school as normal, or to fully engage in their usual academic activities. There were also higher levels of distraction during lessons. As their teacher, this necessitated me to be additionally supportive and accommodating to help the class cope. I needed to be flexible in terms of in-class assignments, homework deadlines and similar aspects of study. In this way we proceeded together gently, and the classroom work proved to be a vehicle towards remaining focused on the fact that we were working together and still alive.
Similar to other research on conducting classes after a loss, such as that of Dunn’s important 2022 “Teaching While Grieving a Death,” I found that it was essential to be accommodating, sensitive towards building trusting relationships, and to work with my students to find ways to support their academic progress while my students, and myself, were grieving. It is important to note that loss has a long tail, and things will improve but will certainly be different even after the initial challenges and grief have somewhat subsided.
Research has shown that the sudden death of a student in some cases can have a significant influence on the normal functioning of a class (Dyregrov et al., 2008), and that loss can cause disruptions in various ways, including through student absences or distraction, as well as changes in teachers’ teaching style or level of engagement. Bearing these grief centered disruptions in mind may serve to be useful to educators when they contemplate the potential impacts of losing a student and knowing that an element of turmoil will be inherent.
Reflective practice and the effect of loss on the teacher and class
In the wake of a student’s death, teachers can often experience a range of complex and varied emotions, from deep sadness and shock to anger and even hope (Dunn, 2022, p. 322). As such, it is essential for teachers to have the necessary tools and strategies to manage the emotional weight of the loss. Overall, there is a gap academically regarding the impact and experiences pertaining to the loss of a student. As Dunn, (2022, p. 315) states “classrooms should be inclusive of both teachers’ and students’ grief and loss experiences; however, teachers’ grieving experiences remain understudied”. Teaching about death in English language classrooms can be a challenging task for teachers in itself. This is because there can be a need for teacher’s to emotionally manage themselves (Dunn & Johnson, 2020) in relation to personally moving literature about loss, touching poetry or other poignant media related to deaths from war or natural disasters that may appear as learning material in classes. This is not to mention managing and facilitating classes when a student in that class actually passes away. Reflective practice may be one of the most effective tools for teachers in this situation.
Reflective practice is a process of self-reflection in which one examines their own beliefs, thoughts, and behavior in order to gain a better understanding of their impact on the situation (Brookfield, 1995). This thoughtful process allows teachers to take a step back and consider the emotions they are experiencing as well as the actions they take. It is used widely as a versatile tool in teaching practice for professional development. Through this method, teachers can gain an insight into their own experience and perspectives, as well as the potential to adjust their approach to better manage their emotions. The reflective process is also beneficial for teachers in that it allows them to create a safe space in which they can process their grief while also ensuring that the needs of the other students in their classroom are met. By engaging in reflective practice, teachers can identify the most effective ways to support their students in the wake of the loss, such as providing additional emotional support or creating an environment in which open discussion about the death is encouraged.
One of the most immediate and profound effects of the sudden death of a student is the emotional toll it takes on the class (Dyregrov et al., 2008). Similar to other bereaved people, students who were close to the deceased may experience intense feelings of grief and loss and may struggle to concentrate and function in the days, weeks, and even months following the death (Bonanno et al., 2004; Dyregrov et al., 2008). Research by Dyregrov et al. (2008) has shown that the level of grief experienced when a classmate is lost can be equal to that of losing a sibling and that some students still suffer acutely nine months after the loss. Even students who were not particularly close to the deceased may be affected by the loss, as a nearby death can serve as a reminder of their own transience and may raise fears about their own safety and physical well-being (Cloitre & Koplewicz, 2006). The death of a student can be a devastating and traumatic event for those who knew the individual, and this can have long-term negative consequences regarding well-being, as not all students are equally resilient (Capewell, 1994). It is important for those who are grieving to take the time to process their emotions and to seek out support from friends and family, and it is equally important they are directed to psychologists and professionals as needed (Costelloe et al., 2020).
From my own experience, it is important to acknowledge and validate the grief that one is feeling. This can be a challenging process, as grief is often accompanied by a range of intense and sometimes conflicting emotions, such as sadness, anger and guilt (Dunn, 2022). I found that reflective practice was an invaluable tool for me as a teacher to manage the emotional weight of the death of one of my students. For a successful restorative process to unfold it is important to allow oneself to not only feel and reflect but to also express these emotions, rather than trying to suppress or ignore them (Neimeyer, 2005). But as a teacher, the time and place of such expressions needs to be suitable. In my own experience, I found what I call ‘transitional moments’ during the school day to be useful for connecting with my students about the deceased, enabling them to express or share in simple ways. I will expound on these moments in the following section.
Daily transitional moments between the teacher and class
The foundation of successful pedagogy is comprised of numerous elements. And of prime importance among those is the bond between the teacher and the student (Ransom, 2020). The historical hierarchical dynamic of imparting knowledge through a sense of fear has thankfully transformed, although not universally, into a more mutualistic dynamic of empathy and understanding (Grove O’Grady, 2020). This mutualistic dynamic necessitates a depth of emotional and professional commitment from the educator to enable both the personal development of the student and to sustain their interest, knowledge and skills in their language learning journey.
This bond brings rewards to the educator in that by knowing the student on a more meaningful level they can assist them in tackling challenges. From my experience, this includes complex challenges like grief. Additionally, such a bond can assist with helping students to mature as individuals and enhance their learning process (Tsai, 2017). Moreover, practical aspects such as managing classroom behavior through being able to relate to the student on a compassionate and personal level can maintain a productive atmosphere rather than needing to escalate towards classical punitive strategies or deploying punitive logical consequence tactics (Kyriacou, 2007).
This bond is established through quotidian moments that are rooted in the seemingly banal flow of daily classroom life. The everyday encounter, far from being banal, is the thread with which the relational bond is stitched. The moments in the seams of the school day when a breath is taken between classes, the pause passing in the corridor when greetings can be exchanged or in the occasionally boisterous minutes prior to the bell all allow space for developing relationships. These moments can be conceived of as a thread stitching together a supportive tapestry. Naturally these small-scale moments are complimentary to more targeted guidance and support (Cloitre & Koplewicz, 2006), but they also provide an opportunity for consistent potential glimpses into the life of the student rather than more isolated and formalized guidance meetings or commemoration events.
My perception of these moments became significantly more important following the loss of my student. Prior to the loss, the daily transitional moments were largely unreflective spaces. My mental focus was essentially on looking directly ahead to the next lesson and the accompanying swirling series of practicalities, such as locations, materials and content. They were also moments of respite to catch a breath. That is not to say that interactions were not occurring with students during those snippets of time, but that my ability to really ‘look’ or ‘consider‘ during them was fundamentally different.
The hustle and bustle between classes was previously largely a superficial affair oscillating between practicalities and conviviality. Losing my student substantially changed my internal thought process surrounding the need for being prepared to manage such a situation and how different support mechanisms are important for both the teacher and student. Experiencing the process of coming to terms with losing a student has made me consider transitional moments to be a set of valuable observational and interactive opportunities that also allow for space for remembrance of the lost student. I began to use them as opportunities for students to express memories of their lost classmate in small ways if they desired to. For example, they provided micro-platforms for referencing something that was unfolding in the real world that the deceased would have enjoyed, such as an event or a new game that they would have been interested in playing. These transitional moments also sometimes allowed indicators to emerge that needed further examination or inquiries made using the web of social connections of school life that yielded valuable insights regarding classmate well-being.
Reflection on how transitional moments worked
I found that a key to allowing space for transitional moments to unfold was in my body language and awareness in reading the atmosphere of the class. As I mentioned previously, prior to the death of my student I was focused on the “busyness” of an upcoming class. However, through reflective practice, I was able to become more aware and consciously make my body language welcoming and open to interactions with students between classes. In concrete terms, this meant I looked around the room between classes more actively rather than looking down at whatever materials I was going to use. Mentally, I remained present in the moment rather than projecting into the future about the procedure the upcoming lesson plan would follow.
I found that this mental run-through for a lesson is a valuable practice, but it can be done at other times to leave space for connecting with students between lessons. By visually scanning the classroom and being mentally present, I was sometimes able to notice a student who looked like they wanted to be approached, and this allowed me to instigate communication. Alternatively, moments were instigated through making a small gesture like a wave or a smile for the student to feel comfortable about approaching me at my desk. Generally, a majority of students approached my desk to communicate, and this seemed more comfortable than me moving to them. These are small and subtle gestures and indicators that require awareness and an ability to read the room.
The moments of remembrance usually had a positive disposition although framed with an understandable sadness. Additionally, I found that using a soft tone of voice allowed students to share these moments of remembrance without a great deal of attention being drawn to them. Another aspect was that sometimes students would approach in pairs or in small groups, and I welcomed this as it allowed for a sense of communal sharing. I tried to remain flexible in allowing for the mix of emotions that would emerge in the moments. Importantly, I was aware to not always deliver a pep talk at every opportunity but rather to actively listen and acknowledge the emotional difficulty of the situation. The moments themselves would conclude naturally through the necessity for the next class to start, by the student(s) signaling its conclusion or by my own facilitation. I used a similar gentle approach via transitional moments with the sibling of the student I lost in the school club activity. Although I paid particular care to them when I looked during those moments to ensure they were doing as well as could be expected. If a teacher is unfortunate to find themselves in a similar situation of loss, I can recommend using these transitional moments as a form of supportive scaffolding for their class and indeed, they may wish to consider their use in their everyday teaching practice even without suffering a loss.
Conclusion
The sudden death of a student can be an overwhelming and challenging event that can have a profound consequence on a class and a teacher (Dunn, 2022; Dyregrov et al., 2008). A key takeaway is that it is important to, in a gentle manner, provide adequate support to students and oneself as an educator and to address any disruptions that may crop up. As their teacher, it is paramount to be sensitive to the needs of students to help them cope with the loss of their classmate in a resilient way (Cloitre & Koplewicz, 2006).
Transitional moments allow for a series of concrete steps to be undertaken by the teacher to create space for the aforementioned support to occur in the normal everyday classroom. Firstly, the teacher needs to engage their own awareness and mentally prepare themselves to look. This means actively thinking about the snippets of time they have rather than allowing time to pass without awareness. Secondly, they can scan the classroom environment and really look at their students’ faces or body language for cues. If cues are present, the teacher can then use a positive gesture or their body language to ensure that a student/group of students know an approach is welcomed. This can be done through a wave or a simple smile, for example. When the transitional moment is unfolding, using a soft tone of voice is helpful and maintaining an awareness of the need to listen. Importantly, delivering a pep talk is not always necessary and maintaining a sense of subtlety is beneficial so that the informality of the sharing regarding their lost classmate is not made into a major focal point of attention. Finally, the teacher can expect emotions tied to grief to surface and needs to understand that these do not have to be forced out. Through reflection the pain of the teacher’s own grief can become more bearable and help the teacher to function better in transitional moments of loss sharing.
In my experience the direct impact of these steps facilitated students being able to express their thoughts and feelings about their departed classmate in an informal, voluntary, and non-pressurised setting. This allowed for forms of solace and a sense of community to emerge in small but important ways amongst us. For myself as a teacher, my students and us all as grievers in different ways and with different roles and expectations.
Finally, it is important to remember that the grieving process is different for everyone, and it is especially important to be sensitive to oneself if you ever find yourself navigating such a tough situation during your teaching practice. While schools, universities, and teaching are so closely bound to improving and embracing development during our lives, they are not beyond being impacted by loss, and acknowledging rather than ignoring that painful fact may prove useful.
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