Teachers speak often about grit. We encourage perseverance. We talk about resilience. We remind students that meaningful success usually comes through effort, persistence and sometimes failure.
But there is a danger.
Many of us teach the idea of struggle without ever having experienced the kind of struggle that truly humbles a human being.
I was reminded of this in a deeply personal way earlier this year.
After four hours of open-heart surgery, I discovered what it feels like when the mind and body you have relied on your entire life simply stop working the way they once did.
For several days after surgery I could not do the simplest cognitive tasks. I could not type. I could not construct a coherent sentence. Even encoding a five-letter word felt impossible. The neurological fog was overwhelming.
The synaptic connections that normally allow thoughts to flow easily simply did not connect.
If someone had placed me in front of a standardised academic test during those days, the results would have been alarming. I would almost certainly have been flagged as needing remedial support or special educational intervention.
Yet only days earlier I was functioning normally – writing, leading workshops, thinking clearly, solving complex problems.
That experience forced me to reflect deeply on something we rarely talk about in education.
Struggle is Not Always Visible
In our classrooms we sometimes see a learner who appears disengaged, slow, distracted or incapable. Our systems often assume the problem is effort. We assume they are not trying hard enough.
But sometimes the reality is very different.
Sometimes the brain simply cannot connect the way we expect it to.
Sometimes the learner is already trying far harder than we realise.
My brief experience of cognitive dysfunction gave me a window into what many learners may experience daily.
The frustration.
The embarrassment.
The sense that your mind is betraying you.
Imagine sitting in a classroom where everyone else seems to understand quickly while you are still trying to decode the first instruction.
Imagine knowing that you are intelligent but being unable to access that intelligence when you need it most.
That experience builds a powerful sense of empathy.
It also reframes how we think about grit.
Grit is often described as perseverance and passion for long-term goals. Angela Duckworth’s work helped popularise the idea that sustained effort is a powerful predictor of success.
But what we sometimes forget is that perseverance grows best in environments where struggle is understood and supported.
Grit cannot be forced through pressure alone.
Tears poured down my cheeks as I realised that I could not compose a WhatsApp message to my wife, no matter how hard I tried. It felt as if that tall dunce hat used during my schooling career was fairly on my head.
Grit grows through Encouragement, Belonging and Belief
When learners feel safe enough to fail, try again, and receive constructive feedback, the brain’s motivational systems activate. Dopamine pathways reinforce effort and persistence.
But when learners feel judged, shamed or compared harshly to others, the brain’s threat systems activate instead. Cortisol rises. Anxiety increases. Learning shuts down.
When the surgeon checked on me and I explained that I think I may have had a stroke in my left hemisphere that handles language encoding, movement planning and fine motor execution, he chuckled, smiled and said – “It’s the drugs Gavin, it will clear. I will check in on you tomorrow, now rest! You’ve got it!”
In other words, the emotional climate of the classroom determines whether struggle becomes growth or defeat.
This is where teachers play an extraordinary role.
A teacher who understands struggle can transform a student’s trajectory.
Sometimes the most powerful message a teacher can give is: “I see you trying. You will get it and I am here to help you.”
Those words can change a child’s internal narrative. Instead of “I am stupid,” the student begins to think, “Maybe I just need more time.”
Instead of giving up, the student tries again. Struggle then becomes productive rather than destructive.
Purposeful Struggle
Learning is supposed to be effortful. The brain grows through challenge. Neural connections strengthen when we wrestle with ideas, test hypotheses, make mistakes and try again.
But purposeful struggle requires careful calibration.
Too little challenge leads to boredom. Too much challenge leads to hopelessness.The teacher’s craft lies in finding the zone where effort leads to growth.
My experience after surgery also reminded me that recovery – like learning – happens gradually. Every day since the operation has brought small improvements. A little more energy. A little more clarity. A little more strength.
Progress is rarely dramatic. It is usually incremental. It has taken me 6 weeks to sit at my laptop and write this article.
And yet, over time, those small gains accumulate into transformation.
That is exactly how learning works for many children.
The learner who struggles today may be the learner who thrives tomorrow — if the environment allows perseverance to develop.
A Personal Reminder
There is a daily reminder that now stays with me. Each time I look in the mirror I see the scar down my chest where surgeons opened my sternum to repair my heart.
That scar is not something I hide. It reminds me daily of two truths:
First, the human body and brain are remarkably capable of healing.
Second, struggle changes us.
It deepens empathy.
It softens judgement.
It reminds us that behind every performance score, every test result and every classroom behaviour lies a human story we may not fully understand.
As educators we must still teach resilience. We must still encourage perseverance. The world our learners will inherit demands determination and courage.
But we must teach grit gently.
Not as pressure.
Not as judgement.
But as hope.
Hope that effort matters.
Hope that improvement is possible.
Hope that struggle today does not define tomorrow.
Because sometimes the greatest gift a teacher can give a learner is the belief that their struggle is not a sign of failure. It is a step towards becoming stronger.


