When Blame Shows Up: Practising Fierce Curiosity in the Classroom (and Why Shame Matters More Than We Think)

I’ve been reflecting a lot lately on how quickly blame can take hold in our interactions – with learners, colleagues, and even with ourselves. When something hurts or goes wrong, the mind fills in gaps, makes assumptions, and writes a story about the other person’s intentions. Before we know it, anger has stepped in, hardening our perspective and creating distance.

Blame can feel satisfying for a moment. It gives all that emotional energy somewhere to land. But it also shuts down curiosity. And when curiosity disappears, so does our ability to see the fuller picture (including our own triggers, vulnerabilities, and the old familiar patterns that shape how we respond).

This has made me think more deeply about the emotional undercurrents in teaching. Because teaching is not just cognitive work, it’s relational, embodied, and often deeply personal. Our reactions are influenced not only by what’s happening right now, but by the echoes of past experiences that show up in the present.

Where Shame Enters the Story

In exploring this, I’ve found Brené Brown’s work on shame incredibly illuminating. She describes shame as a universal, intensely painful feeling of believing we are flawed and unworthy of connection.¹ Unlike guilt (which is about something we did) shame is about who we are. And because shame feels unbearable, we instinctively protect ourselves from experiencing it. [positiveps...hology.com]

Brown explains that we do this by putting on what she calls “shame shields” – our protective armour that keeps us from feeling exposed or inadequate.² These shields tend to show up in three ways: [care-clinics.com]

• Moving Away - Withdrawing, shutting down, avoiding the conversation.

• Moving Toward - People-pleasing, smoothing things over, trying to earn approval.

• Moving Against - Getting defensive, criticising, pushing back hard to regain control.

These patterns often form long before we step into a classroom, but they definitely follow us into it. For educators, they can be triggered quickly: a student’s tone, a colleague’s comment, a parent’s reaction. Sometimes the trigger is small, but the feeling is big because it’s touching an old wound.

Recognising this has changed how I understand both my own reactions and the behaviours I see in students. A young person “moving against” may not be trying to challenge authority; they may be defending themselves against a surge of shame. A student who shuts down may not be “unmotivated”; they may be armouring up because something has landed painfully.

Understanding our shields isn’t about self‑blame. It’s about noticing what is happening inside us so we can respond with more awareness and less reactivity.

Enter Fierce Curiosity

Alongside this, I’ve been learning from Suzanne Zeedyk about the idea of fierce curiosity – curiosity that doesn’t wait for calm conditions or perfect timing, but shows up right in the heat of the moment.

Fierce curiosity asks questions that soften the edges of conflict:

• What just happened here?

• What might be going on for them?

• Why did this land so strongly for me?

It isn’t passive, and it isn’t permissive. It doesn’t excuse harm or blur boundaries. But it does keep the door open long enough for understanding, clarity, and repair to be possible.

When we pair fierce curiosity with an awareness of our shame shields, something powerful happens. Instead of reacting from protection, we begin responding from connection. Instead of assuming the worst, we leave space for the whole story and we can start to catch ourselves in the moments when our armour is going up.

Curiosity as an Antidote to Shame

Brown’s research highlights that shame thrives in secrecy and silence.³ Curiosity interrupts that silence. It gently invites us out from behind the shield. [care-clinics.com]

For educators, this matters immensely. Teaching requires us to hold boundaries, manage conflict, and maintain authority, while remaining attuned, relational, and emotionally regulated. That is incredibly complex work.

And the truth is: we cannot stay open and connected if we are armoured up.

Curiosity loosens the armour. It slows down the moment just enough to breathe, to ask, to understand. And it brings us back into relationship – which is the foundation for all meaningful learning.

Seeing Our Triggers as Teachers

The more I pay attention, the more I notice how often my strongest reactions have less to do with the present moment and more to do with an old story about not being enough, not being good enough, or feeling judged. These are classic shame triggers, documented widely in Brown’s research.⁴ [brenebrown.com]

Instead of criticising myself for being reactive, I’m learning to treat these moments as information:

Something is being stirred. Something needs attention. Something is asking for gentleness.

When we approach ourselves this way, we begin to cultivate what Brown calls shame resilience recognising shame, naming it, staying curious about it, and reaching out rather than shutting down.² [care-clinics.com]

Why This Matters for Educators

Classrooms are emotionally charged spaces. Young people bring their histories, fears, hopes, and stressors into the room. Teachers bring their humanity too.

When we meet each other with blame, the room tightens. When we meet each other with curiosity, the room expands.

Curiosity helps us hold behaviour and emotion together. It helps us separate the person from the moment. And it gives us the best possible chance of repairing ruptures rather than widening them.

If blame closes the door, curiosity keeps it open, and in education (where relationships are the medium for learning) that open door is everything.