Last week I judged the final oral exams for the graduate students I supervise and was reminded, once again, of the importance of reflection and self-awareness. The beauty of teaching is that it is never stagnant: learning depends on human relationships, which as we know, are complex. In response to a question about the nature of a constructivist classroom my graduate student and I discussed the essential concept that there is no one perfect curriculum that works for all students, as each child has unique needs, interests and learning styles. A teacher’s real job is to practice observation and reflection in order to understand each of her students deeply so that learning can occur. But, in order for that to happen, a teacher must first know herself.

I have an ongoing argument with a friend about the importance of the self. He’s a cosmic thinker and is in the “individuals are just insignificant specs amongst the vastness of the universe” camp. I, on the other hand, spend an inordinate amount of time on my self: ruminating, reflecting, and hopefully improving. I am insatiably curious about other selves, too – what makes individuals unique and the universal traits we share.

My recent self-discovery has been a perspective-changer.

I am convinced - and psychology confirms - most of us have “holes” of one kind or another related to our self-worth likely created long ago by our imperfect but well intended parents. As adults it seems we try tirelessly like hamsters on a wheel to fill those holes. In an effort to turn inward and rely less on others for my needs, I’ve been noticing my hole-filling habits. I discovered that no matter what - no amount of running, yoga, meditation, or ice cream, no accomplishment or relationship - nothing could fill that hole. I felt frustrated and complained to my therapist with the hope that she’d have the answer.

Nothing is working. I told her.

That’s just it, Charlotte. She said. You don’t do anything. You just wake up each morning and greet that hole. It’s part of you.

It was a classic Piagetian moment. The idea of accepting myself, hole included, and doing nothing (not something I naturally excel at) forced me to reconstruct my understanding of what it means to be whole.

The hole can only be filled by simply embracing it.

Good morning, (w)hole!