A few years ago, a student came to my office after class, eyes filled with quiet frustration. They hadn’t missed a single lecture yet their assignments were slipping. As I began to discuss deadlines and rubrics, they interrupted softly: “I just can’t focus right now. My father’s in the hospital.” In that moment, I realised they didn’t need academic advice. They needed empathy.
Empathy isn’t about solving our students’ problems. It’s about making them feel seen, safe and supported enough to try again. In higher education, where intellectual rigour often overshadows emotional connection, empathy remains one of the most powerful yet underused forms of student support.
Empathy’s role in the classroom
Empathy transforms classrooms from performance spaces into learning communities. When students feel understood, they are more likely to engage, take risks, and persist through difficulty. My experience with social-emotional learning has shown me that empathy is not an abstract concept; it is a pedagogical strategy. In one course, I incorporated reflective journaling where students wrote about how a topic made them feel before analysing it academically. That emotional bridge made their arguments sharper, highlighting how empathy enhances cognitive engagement.
Empathy doesn’t mean lowering academic standards. It means creating the psychological safety that makes high standards achievable. It’s what allows a struggling student to seek help rather than hide behind silence, and what helps an educator see behaviour not as defiance but as communication.
Despite our best intentions, empathy can be hard to sustain. Academic life often prioritises deadlines, data and deliverables over dialogue. The emotional labour of teaching, especially in large classes or hybrid learning settings, can leave educators exhausted. I’ve had moments where I responded curtly to a student’s late submission, only to later learn about their personal crisis. It showed me how easily empathy can fade when we are running on empty. Empathy requires presence, and presence demands pause. But in academia’s culture of constant productivity, that pause is what’s most often sacrificed.
Empathy in everyday teaching: the three C’s
Over time, I’ve learned to anchor my classroom practice around what I call the three C’s of empathetic teaching: curiosity, connection and communication, based on Marshall Rosenberg’s nonviolent communication framework. These small shifts have reshaped how I teach, listen and lead.
Curiosity
Empathy begins with curiosity. When a student misses class or appears disengaged, the instinct is to correct; the invitation is to ask. A simple “How are you doing today?” at the start of class or in an email check-in can open doors. I’ve found that curiosity transforms assumptions into understanding.
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Connection
Students often see faculty as unshakable experts, yet sharing small moments of vulnerability about times we’ve struggled with feedback or balance can humanise the learning space. During a discussion on resilience, I once shared that one of my journal submissions had been rejected multiple times before publication. The room softened. Students began sharing their own stories of perseverance. Connection thrives when we replace perfection with authenticity.
Communication
When students share challenges, we often rush to offer solutions. But sometimes, the most powerful response is silence, the kind that holds space. I’ve learned to listen with the intention of understanding, not of fixing. A simple, “That sounds really hard; thank you for trusting me with that” can make a student feel valued in ways that grades alone never can.
Boundaries: avoiding emotional exhaustion
The risk of emotional overextension is real, especially for educators who are deeply empathetic. I’ve learned, sometimes the hard way, that protecting my well-being is part of sustaining empathy.
Setting boundaries, such as keeping reflective notes after emotionally heavy conversations, referring students to professional support when needed, and maintaining clear communication around availability, has been crucial. I often remind myself that I can be empathetic without being available all the time.
Teaching as a human practice
Empathy humanises education. When we teach with empathy, we remind students and ourselves that learning is not only about intellect but about connection.
At the end of that semester, the same student who came to my office uncertain and overwhelmed submitted their final project with a short note that read: “Thank you for listening when I didn’t have words.”
That is what empathy offers – not solutions, but the safety students need to find their way back to learning.
Bhawana Shrestha is research fellow at the Learning Institute for Future Excellence in Xi’an Jiaotong-Liverpool University’s Academy of Future Education.
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