Harnessing the Strength of Listening to Human Stories in Education: A Language Educator’s experience at CFD by Maureen Lothrop Magnan, Ph.D.
Maureen Lothrop Magnan works at Sharon Elementary School, and participated in CFD’s Summer Workshop on Forced Displacement for K-12 Teachers. Read her reflections about the week below.
In education, there is undeniable power in listening to the stories of others—stories that challenge our perspectives, evoke empathy, and transform the way we teach and learn. During Boston University’s summer workshop on Critical Forced Displacement, over 20 educators from diverse disciplines delved into the experiences of migration and its profound connections to the classroom. Through film, art, literature, and poetry, we examined themes of identity, belonging, and displacement. Senior Educational Designer Lynn Brown led us in a “Close Looking” exercise, asking, “What are you struck by?” as we studied a sculpture of a man with significant sections missing, revealing the Italian coast behind him. Brown’s probing questions encouraged us to shift our perspectives, prompting reflection on displacement, our own identities, journeys, and the things we leave behind.
The stories we encountered throughout the workshop transcended hardship, revealing the resilience and humanity that persist even in the face of adversity. These narratives reshaped how we, as educators, understand the transformative power of storytelling in the classroom. A particularly impactful moment was watching the documentary Notes on Displacement (2022) with its director, Khaled Jamar. The film depicted the journey of a Palestinian family traveling the Balkan route, and its power lay not in imagining ourselves in the characters’ shoes but in the realization that, under different circumstances, any one of us could have been part of that family. As Kramch (1996) aptly stated, “the stranger is in us.” I was struck by the presence of the ordinary within hardship—the glaringly mundane in such painful circumstances—and by the human ability to find humor and love amidst daily struggles that, in hindsight, seem unimaginable.
Another powerful theme that emerged was the stark contrast between the reality of migrant and refugee experiences and how they are misunderstood in the media. This highlighted the urgent need to educate ourselves and our students in order to unveil these human stories.
One particularly moving moment during the workshop was when Professor Carrie Preston read the children’s book Lubna and Pebble. As she reached the part where the little girl, Lubna, passed her beloved pebble to Amir, a boy left alone at the refugee camp, while she continued her journey with her father, we collectively felt the weight of loss and uncertainty. The pebble symbolized much more than love and comfort; it was a pebble of hope, something to hold onto in the midst of the unknown. When Preston was overcome by emotion, many of us mirrored her, recognizing the familiar pain of loneliness and uncertainty in both our students and ourselves.
During the conference, we were asked to share a lesson, strategy, or curricular connection. I contributed insights from a previous study I conducted on incorporating ethnographic interviewing techniques in the language classroom, which reinforced the importance of making space for storytelling in the classroom and empowering students to share their own narratives.
Creating space and finding time to teach students how to conduct ethnographic interviews can be challenging. However, empowering students to help someone else tell their story can be profoundly rewarding. It’s heart work. Although students are at different stages of social-emotional maturity and have varying levels of experience with empathy, by fostering storytelling opportunities, we enable students to grow in meaningful ways. Through the act of genuinely engaging with one another, they develop a deeper understanding of both themselves and others, transforming the classroom into a dynamic space where diverse forms of discourse can flourish.
The workshop provided us with space to listen to the voices and stories of others. It prompted me to reflect on: When was the last time I made space to truly listen to someone else’s story? Like many, I often fall into the trap of tuning out while preparing my own response, preventing me from being fully present with the person in front of me. Without that presence, it’s nearly impossible to understand the other person or make them feel heard and valued. Stories are powerful—they ignite ideas, stir awe, wonder, inspiration, curiosity, and even fear. They hold the power to transform hearts and minds in ways we often don’t realize.
Consider how a face-to-face conversation can leave you feeling tired, happy, or even disillusioned—your body mirrors the emotions of the person you’re listening to, empathy and mirror neurons in action. Human connections grow stronger through the empathy that stories can evoke. Throughout the workshop, it became clear that these concepts and making space for stories could be adapted to different academic subjects, offering opportunities to foster empathy through open-ended questions and genuine curiosity. In the words of American poet Mary Oliver on Instructions for living a life: “Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.”
Though our reasons for attending the workshop varied, we left with a renewed appreciation for the power of human experience and resilience, along with a shared hope of bringing out the best in our students. Whether through data, narrative, discourse, art, theater, or poetry, making space to tell our stories proved to be a vital tool in education. As the conference drew to a close, I found myself returning to the initial question: What are you struck by? I was struck by how unique we all were, yet how unified we became in our common goal—to serve our students and communities as best as we can.