Abby Brockway in Lyon, France. Photo courtesty of Abby Brockway

Study Abroad

What Happens When the Teacher Becomes the Student

She went to France to learn about the language and culture, but Abby Brockway ended up learning so much more.

I crave the adventure and independence that come with studying abroad. As an undergraduate, I spent a semester in Florence, wandering ancient streets, running to connecting flights, and learning how to navigate challenges on my own. It was one of the best semesters of my life.

So when I told people I was heading abroad again—this time for two weeks in Vichy, France, for the Global Language & Culture program—the first question was always the same: “Do you speak French?”

I’d laugh and answer confidently, “Not a bit!”

I wasn’t nervous. Not really. I love learning and adventure. I’ve always known I wanted to be a teacher, and in recent years I’ve found a deep love for working with ESL students. My TESOL studies at BU Wheelock have sharpened my teaching skills and deepened my appreciation for the rich and diverse cultural communities my students come from. I thought this trip would further me academically.

Then I landed in France.

At 10 pm, after nearly 18 hours of travel, no sleep, and nothing but a baguette in my stomach, I met my 79-year-old host parents, Monique and Dominique. I approached them at the train station, exhausted but cheerful.

“Hello! It’s so nice to meet you!” I said, brightly.

Monique smiled, looked at Dominique in confusion, shook her head gently, and replied, “Seulement en Français.”

Only in French.

And in that moment, the language barrier I had been so nonchalant about became the thing I feared most.

In Florence, I could rely on English. In Vichy, there was no safety net. Through our program, we attended five hours of French classes each day, so my language skills improved quickly. By the end of the two weeks, my host parents told me how proud they were of my growth. That affirmation meant everything.

What surprised me most about language learning was the emotional weight of not understanding. Of not having the words or means to express myself or to communicate.

I was mentally exhausted after every class and every family dinner—constantly translating what I heard, then translating what I wanted to say, only to blurt out something that didn’t capture my meaning. I avoided shops because I was afraid of being misunderstood. I panicked when I was corrected. I worried about sounding foolish or confirming stereotypes about “the struggling American.” Slowly, I started losing confidence in the French I did know.

One evening, after an overwhelming class and a dinner where I relied almost entirely on Google Translate, it hit me: I was experiencing exactly what my students feel every day.

Every day, my English language learners sit in classrooms where the language swirling around them isn’t their own. They listen intently, trying to decode meaning. They rehearse sentences silently before daring to speak. They risk being corrected in front of peers. They show up anyway.

In Vichy, I felt their exhaustion. Their hesitation. Their vulnerability.

My two weeks abroad taught me real empathy—not the abstract kind we talk about in education courses, but the kind you learn after a long day of trying so hard to be understood and to communicate with others.

I learned that patience in teaching isn’t optional. It’s a requirement. The moments that helped me were when someone slowed down, repeated themselves, or smiled encouragingly while I searched for words. Those small gestures made risk-taking possible.

I also learned that confidence often matters more than correctness. Language learning is full of tiny victories: ordering un pain au chocolat without stumbling, buying a chic sweater, understanding the train conductor over the PA system. Those moments deserve celebration. They represent effort, bravery, and growth.

Now, when my students hesitate before speaking, I don’t just see a pause. I see courage gathering. I see the process happening behind their eyes. I see the risk they are about to take.

Two weeks in Vichy didn’t make me fluent in French.

But they made me braver.

They made me more aware.

And they made me a better teacher.

Abby Brockway is a graduate student in the TESOL Multilingual Learner Education EdM program at BU Wheelock College of Education & Human Development. She has experience working with linguistically and culturally diverse students.