Years ago, I wrote a post on how shyness has made me a better traveler.

I wrote about how shyness gave me courage – walking hand in hand with fear – as I showed up in foreign countries, without knowing anyone. Shyness propelled me into diving out of my comfort zone and into the arms of adventure.

Shyness has done the same for me as a teacher.

I’ll be honest – every time I step in front of a classroom, I feel nervous. Teaching has gotten easier in some aspects, but that anxiety is still there, like white noise in my mind.

Somehow, my superiors thought my teaching was good enough to become a teacher trainer. Cue my anxiety manifold as I am now training teachers, many of whom have a lot more experience than I do.

My shyness and anxiety have caused me to doubt myself. Who am I to teach, and who am I to train teachers?

I’ve been teaching now for about ten years, and teacher training for four.

While I still feel that same anxiety to an extent, I realize how being shy can actually be a gift for many teachers. In fact, many teachers I’ve talked to over the years have told me that they were also incredibly shy growing up.

So, if you are a shy teacher doubting your skills, I’d like to share with you two reasons why shyness has made me a better teacher and teacher trainer.

Your students can feel more comfortable in your classes – and thus, learn more easily.

Shy people are often deeply sensitive. We feel even more strongly than the average person, which perhaps is why we’re the way we are: life feels so brash sometimes, and our feelings overwhelm our bodies.

Shy people also often have a deep inner world. We can see and feel things under the surface that many people may not catch.

I believe teachers who are shy take this sensitivity into the classroom. We can feel the room as quickly as a breeze blowing on our skin. We can understand how students feel as they learn, and adjust accordingly.

We can also empathize with students as people. Many teachers get so caught up in their teaching tasks, reaching objectives, and getting paperwork turned in, that they forget that we are dealing with humans above all else.

Shy teachers often remember that our students as people are at the heart of what we do. We can adapt our lessons to not only fit our students’ knowledge in their learning journeys, but also where they are in their lives’ journeys. And when students feel understood and seen, they are placed in an environment that allows them to grow better – and thus, learn better.

You will have stepped into the footprints of the teachers you train – you understand them, and know what they need.

Teaching is so hard.

You’re in charge of a group of people with mixed learning levels, along with personal and professional objectives, and yet you still are asked to teach a one-size-fits-all curriculum to all of these people.

You have to complete so much paperwork that it often gets in the way of your teaching.

You have to deal with people on a daily basis – and people can be challenging to deal with.

And, you often have governments trying to tell you how to teach, yet many of these well-meaning officials have never set foot in a classroom.

And yet, you – the shy teacher trainer – have something special to offer.

You’ve been in the classroom, the front lines of education. You understand how the best planned lesson plan can go awry because of tech issues, lack of student interest, or things not working out as well as you thought they would. You know what motivates students, and what simply looks good on paper.

And again, as a shy teacher trainer, you know how to read a room. You know how so many teachers are trying so hard to not appear nervous in front of the classroom.

You, the shy teacher trainer, can provide support that helps teachers not only with the pedagogical matters of teaching, but the personal ones: how can I feel more confident when teaching? How can I build better connections with my students? How can I lose all my self-doubt?

These are things not all teacher trainers discuss, but they should, because most teachers I’ve talked to have experienced these points at one moment or another.

Shyness is a double-edged sword.

Growing up, shyness felt like a curse. I wanted to badly to live life normally without feeling like I was going to get an anxiety attack by simply talking to someone.

During my first class I ever taught, I was so nervous that I wanted to get on a plane and leave Colombia, my first teaching assignment.

And yet – shyness has given me courage. It’s given me drive to overcome this fear to make a positive impact on poeple’s lives.

It’s given me empathy and insight into the human condition as I teach people how to speak another language.

To conclude:

I write song lyrics, and I wrote a song called “Thorns” at the beginning of the year. I’d just finished teaching for that day, and I was feeling particularly shy and anxious.

So I started writing this song. It’s based on that story in the Bible (while I’m not religious, I grew up hearing these stories all the time) of Paul, who had a thorn in his side, and begged to have it removed. And yet it never was.

I think our thorns, like shyness, can break us if we allow them to.

But they can also shape us, and make us, and help us realize our dreams.

Here is the song to conclude.

Thorns

Verse One

My head is my worst enemy
It says things incredibly mean
Like “No one thinks you’re beautiful”
“None would attend your funeral”

They say that it’s all in my mind
No shit, Sherlock, and it feels like
A train is coming to get me
I’m trapped, yet it never hits me

All day, every day, again and again
I try to act normal, yes, I pretend
All day, every day, again and again
This is my nightmare, and it never ends

Chorus

My thorns will never let me go
One in my side, ten in my mind
My thorns are what’s letting me go
Do or die, story of my life

Verse Two

Society, my frenemy
If I look normal, they’ll love me
In a world full of carnations
I’m a deep red anemone

I feel things below the surface
The group thinks that it’s not worth it
But one on one, we think the same
Then plug back into the Matrix

All day, every day, again and again
I’m a neurodivergent circus
All day, every day, again and again
My soul screams for depth; I’m thirsty

Chorus

My thorns will never let me go
One in my side, ten in my mind
My thorns are what’s letting me go
Do or die, story of my life

Bridge

I think our souls sign a contract
Of our deepest desires, and that
Before we’re born, we are pierced by
A torn that’s put onto our sides

Our thorns can break us or change us
The pain is what can motivate us
If we accept our destiny
We can realize our wildest dreams

Chorus

My thorns will never let me go
One in my side, ten in my mind
My thorns are what’s letting me go
Do or die, story of my life

Our thorns can break us or change us
The pain is what can motivate us
If we accept our destiny
We can realize our wildest dreams