*Part 1 of the series: Teaching as a Spiritual Path: Soul Work for the Teacher in the New Paradigm.

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June had been teaching for nearly 25 years.

A Montessori educator through and through, she moved between early childhood, elementary, and leadership roles with grace. Her classrooms were vibrant. Her curriculum hand-crafted. She gave more than was ever asked, coaching colleagues, creating materials, noticing the invisible needs in her school and meeting them without fanfare.

And yet, like many devoted educators, June carried a quiet ache: she never felt fully seen.

Beneath her excellence lived a fear that haunts countless teachers:

Am I doing enough?

Did I prepare enough?

Was that email about me?

Am I the problem?

This fear lodged itself in her nervous system. When meetings were called or emails arrived, her body braced. She longed for acknowledgment, for someone to witness the weight she was carrying and name her devotion. But silence met her instead.

At age 50, June found herself in an increasingly difficult classroom. Students were struggling. She asked for support. She documented behavioral concerns. She named her limits. But her clarity was ignored. Her strength was weaponized. Her requests went unanswered.

So she did what many teachers do: she tried harder.

And then, days before graduation, after a misunderstanding involving a parent who brought champagne to a classroom celebration, June was dismissed. No inquiry. No due process. No chance to say goodbye to the children she’d poured her heart into all year.

She was discarded by the system she had served with unwavering loyalty.

June’s story is not unique. It is one example of what I call educational trauma, a real, but often unspoken pain that lives in the bodies of teachers. This trauma isn’t always loud or dramatic. More often, it’s a quiet unraveling. A slow erosion of trust. A disorientation in spaces that should feel safe.

Educational trauma happens personally and collectively. June felt alone in her pain. But she was carrying not only her story, but the story of many.

And when we name these stories aloud, healing begins.

As Peter Levine reminds us:

“Trauma is not what happens to us, but what we hold inside in the absence of an empathetic witness.” (2008)

Educational trauma is physiological. It manifests as:

>> Chronic exhaustion no weekend can fix

>> Hypervigilance and anxiety in response to small cues

>> Dissociation from body signals and instincts

>> A collapse of creativity and presence

>> Low confidence, especially when blame is projected

>> A sense of isolation and internalized shame

And it’s not just trauma. It’s betrayal.

Educational betrayal trauma happens when institutions fail to protect, support, or repair in moments of crisis. Teachers are often gaslit, silenced, or punished for naming what is true. Especially when what they name is inconvenient.

June now teaches elsewhere, in a space where she is seen and supported. But the imprint of what happened lingers in her body. When a meeting is called or an email arrives, she still sometimes asks: Did I do something wrong?

She didn’t.

Her story, her truth, is one why behind this series existing.

Because we are not here to perform professionalism while silently unraveling.

We are here to remember what the world forgets to name:

That teachers like June are keepers of sacred service.

And they deserve to be held, not harmed.

This is the path of the Initiated Teacher.

The one who tells the truth.

Dares to heal. And be.

This is the next level of the prepared teacher. Not the one who simply knows what to do, but for the one who dares to be.

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This article is Part 1 of a six-part series titled Teaching as a Spiritual Path: Soul Work for the Teacher in the New Paradigm, based on Elizabeth’s upcoming book, The Initiated Teacher: Reawakening the Soul of the Montessori Educator, coming January ’26.

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