From Language Teaching to Gestalt Therapy, There Is But One Step

From Language Teaching to Gestalt Therapy, there Is But One Step

A step that, from afar, may seem perilous, uncertain — and yet reveals itself as a quiet, natural unfolding once you draw near. When I look back on my own path, it feels almost self-evident. There was no sudden rupture, but rather a gentle shift, a continuity in my way of being in the world, with others, with myself.

I have been teaching English for nearly twenty years. I have listened, supported, accompanied — sometimes more than I have explained grammar, corrected pronunciation errors, or delivered well-crafted lessons. Teaching a language is not merely about passing on knowledge: it is also — and above all — about opening a space for connection. A place where one learns to speak, to express oneself, to dare to show oneself, sometimes awkwardly, but alive.

Teaching and Gestalt therapy. These two worlds might seem far apart. One addresses the intellect, the transmission of skills; the other concerns experience, the exploration of feelings. But at the heart of both flows the same passion: that of connection, of relationship, of meaning.

To be a teacher is to be present. Fully present. With your knowledge, of course, but also with your presence, your listening, your availability. It is to welcome what unfolds in the classroom, sometimes far beyond the strict framework of the curriculum. It is noticing a student’s silence, a hesitant glance, the joy of success, the discouragement of failure, and that subtle, almost imperceptible expectation that speaks of the need to be seen, heard, and met.

Teaching a language is about creating the conditions for speech to emerge. It is inviting to speak in a language that is not their own, to shape meaning with words that come from elsewhere. It is exposure, daring, risk. And it is inviting students to do the same: to cross that threshold of discomfort, to try, to reveal themselves in the momentum. It is seeing a student grant themselves permission, open up, feel capable. It is giving birth to a discreet yet profound dynamic of transformation.

And then, over the years, the boundaries grew more porous. Between transmitting and accompanying, the shift happened in fleeting looks, heavy silences, whispered confidences at the end of a lesson. I understood that behind a missed assignment or a closed-off attitude sometimes lurked something more than mere laziness.

Being a teacher is already to welcome, to support, to contain. To hold. To offer structure, listening, and consistency. To be there, even without understanding it all. These moments sowed in me a desire to go further. differently.

Gestalt came as a recognition. A way of being I was already carrying. An approach that honors connection to the present moment and to the co-creation of the relational space. An art of welcoming without judging, without interpreting, in a simple, wholehearted presence.

I found myself in this posture, akin the one I already inhabited in the classroom. A posture of engagement, authenticity, responsibility. An art of adjusting, of allowing myself to be touched, of daring to respond.

Today, my experience as a teacher walks alongside me in my work as a therapist. Attention to words, to silences, to what is said between the lines. The respect for rhythm, the care for the frame, the delicacy of the bond.

And Gestalt, in turn, sheds new light on those years spent in the classroom. It gives me other keys to understand, to feel, ti support. It invites me to reread my journey with tenderness, to recognize in it the first stirrings of a broader commitment: that of a living presence for the other.

I keep on to teach. And I journey as a therapist. These two practices do not exclude each other. They dialogue, inspire, enrich one another. I inhabit them with the same attention and the same demand for authenticity.

“There is but one step,” yes. But that step is precious. It is a step of alignment. Of intimate coherence. It is what binds my love of words, connection, and life to what drives me today: accompanying singular journeys in my own way.