A Reminder of Joy

by Shoshannah Hernandez

Earlier this year, I boarded a plane for London, on my way to Serock, Poland, to spend a few weeks just outside of Warsaw training EFL and STEM teachers from Poland and Ukraine. I sat in the airplane seat with that familiar pit in my stomach. You know the one. It’s the one you get when you’ve just said goodbye to loved ones whom you won’t see for a dozen or more sleeps. The one where the adrenaline and excitement of packing give way to that wonder: “Why am I leaving my comfortable life and flying halfway around the world again?” Even as long as I’ve been traveling solo, I still get that feeling. At first. But soon, that feeling gives way to the next one.

On the first night, I was greeted by several of the Ukrainian teachers I’d met online in the last few months, and I was reminded of that next feeling. The one where you start a new adventure with new faces, new stories, and a renewed purpose. The teachers instantly filled me with that feeling, and I knew why I had traveled around the world to be with them. They’d traveled more than 24 hours to get there. Longer than me, even though their distance was a fraction of mine. The airspace was closed because of the war, so buses and trains were their only option. And while the buses were slower and less reliable, the trains now had to stop and unload for every air raid, so the travel time would likely be much longer. Most of the Ukrainian teachers hadn’t been out of the country since the invasion escalated in 2022, and there was a palpable mix of emotions in their eyes and their tight grasp of my hand. As one teacher immediately linked arms with me, I was taken back to the first time my Chinese friend, a teacher in my first summer training program 25 years before, put her arm under mine. Not the way we would greet a stranger in the U.S., or even an acquaintance. But I was reminded that I was her teacher and so, in her mind, we were already dear friends.

I sat with a few of the Polish teachers for dinner that evening and tried to learn a little about their teaching context, their school, and their students since it was less familiar to me. One teacher launched into a long list of challenges and frustrations. She’d been teaching for more than 20 years and had seen a lot of changes in educational policies that impacted her teaching and her students. After all the hardships, she sighed and then smiled so big it filled her whole face and brightened her eyes. She looked at me and said, “…but let me tell you about my students. I love my students.” And I thought, “that’s it, isn’t it?” That twinkle in her eye, that’s what keeps us all going. The joy that comes in the morning. The harvest we reap after sowing in tears. It’s the fact that in the midst of hardship, we persist and can still smile. Why? Because we do what we do, not for ourselves, but for others.

Over the next several days, I would hear challenge upon challenge, obstacle upon obstacle, and hardship upon hardship because the realities of teaching in their contexts are hard. Air raids. Teaching in bomb shelters. Fathers missing in action. No funding this year. No electricity this week. Families separated. International aid for the war withdrawn. Feeling forgotten, devalued, attacked.

But do you know what else I heard from the teachers? I heard laughter. Joy. Resilience. I heard teaching ideas and innovations that none of the degrees on my wall could teach me. I heard teachers encouraging each other in their language learning, in their careers, in their personal lives. I heard a gentleness and genuine respect for the “other” that I hadn’t heard in my own country in a long, long time. I witnessed an awareness and an appreciation that we come from different places, different languages, different cultures, different circumstances, and those differences are actually a beautiful thing. They are an intentional and inherent blessing embedded in creation.

While there are dozens of stories I could tell from my brief time in Poland, I’ll simply share a few quotes I noted from the teachers that depict the resilience of humanity, and reflect our Master Teacher at work:

• “What has Serock awakened in you?” There was a Robert Frost quote printed on program materials: “I am not a teacher, but an awakener.” One group of teachers asked this question as we reflected on our last day, each sharing what they were taking home to apply in their own teaching. That question followed me all the way home, and I think of it daily, even now several months later. What has been awakened in me? And what will I awaken in others?
• “Math was my trauma, but you healed me.” Everyone has some sort of learning trauma that they’re facing in addition to other trauma they’ve endured outside of the classroom. Both types impact learning. I expected teachers from war-torn Ukraine to bring trauma with them, but I was reminded that learning trauma is real too.
• “This training, this hotel, everything is so nice. Better than the way my country treats teachers. But why does your country do this?” The conversation around this question identified a confusing juxtaposition for the Ukrainian teachers: that they would be supported and cared for through teacher training on one hand, but have funding withdrawn for war efforts to defend their homeland on the other.
• “Yes, I miss my family. I miss my two sons and my husband, but…it’s peaceful here, and I haven’t slept through the night in a very long time.” We were blessed to have a beautiful, waterfront location for our training program outside of the capital city. Everyone commented on it, but the teachers from Ukraine actually felt a real tension because of it. There was guilt for being in a place of peace while simultaneously missing their homeland and seeking refuge outside of its borders.
• (from a Ukrainian teacher to the teachers from Poland) “Thank you for welcoming us into your country, and I don’t just mean for this training.” Poland has welcomed approximately one million Ukrainian refugees since the expanded invasion in 2022.¹ No one had to explain the statement this teacher made. The implied message was clear, and it was felt throughout the room.

As teachers, we are awakeners. We are resilient. We are advocates. A few days with these teachers showed me that those roles haven’t changed and probably never will. But these days also gave me a wider perspective, as these types of opportunities often do. A perspective to see and seek out the one who is not like me that might be easy to overlook. A perspective to embrace differences when the world tells me those differences are a threat. A perspective of gratitude for simple things like sound sleep. And a reminder of all the ways our Master Teacher allows us to find joy in each other, even amid extreme hardship.

1. “Temporary protection for persons fleeing Ukraine – monthly statistics,” Eurostat, (2026) https://ec.europa.eu/eurostat/statistics-explained/index.php?title=Temporary_protection_for_persons_fleeing_Ukraine_-_monthly_statistics&utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email . ↩︎

Further exploration

1. What are some ways that your perspective has recently been widened? What has it helped you see? Is there any action that wider perspective might include?
2. Where have you recently experienced or seen others experience joy amid hardship? How did it impact you and your own circumstances?

On your knees

1. Ask the Master Teacher to put those who may need encouragement or joy to come into your path so that you can share the joy He’s given you.
2. Continue to ask for peace in Ukraine, for those who are displaced, and those actively defending their homeland.

In your community

1. Who are those in your community who might feel forgotten, devalued, or left out? How might you seek them out, come alongside them, and show them love?
2. Are there refugee or recent immigrant populations in your area that could use your support with finances, English teaching, transportation, or some other practical service?
3. If you are a U.S. citizen, contact your representatives and tell them how you feel about about the war in Ukraine and what is happening to people there: https://whosmyrep.org.

Post Author

Shoshannah Hernandez serves as the Director of Graduate Teacher Education and Assistant Professor of Education at Huntington University in Huntington, IN. While preparing to be a math teacher, Shoshannah found herself spending a summer in China training English teachers, and her life was forever changed. After living and teaching in China for several years, she has traveled to and taught in various places around the globe. Teacher education and development is her passion, and she’s able to focus on that in her current role at HU while living in Houston, Texas, with her husband, Mauricio.

---

Photo by Alla Hetman on Unsplash.