By Rachael Cate, OSU College of Engineering
Resilient Teaching Voices Series
Becoming more resilient as a teacher didn’t just sound appealing—it felt essential. I’m Type A, with two young children (ages 6 and 3), and I struggle to recognize when “good enough” is truly enough. The constant flood of information, tools, opinions, and choices leaves me overwhelmed. I’ve long searched for something steady within me—something that rises to meet challenges and stays confident in both motherhood and teaching.
At 20, I set out on a series of long distance bike tours with rock climbing gear, pedaling to Yosemite (twice), the North Cascades, and Glacier National Park. I told my (then) partner, “If this doesn’t make me tough, I want my money back!” I’m not sure how tough I became, but those long hours on the road, the dirt beneath me, stars above, and the deep breaths I took clinging to rock walls gave me a presence I craved. That presence gave me confidence to keep going, no matter what came next.
Years later, in grad school, I sought that same grounded confidence through positive psychology, mindfulness, gratitude, and grit. I read Brené Brown’s Daring Greatly (2015), Tara Brach’s Radical Acceptance (2004), Flourish by Martin Seligman (2012) and also Carol Gilligan’s In A Different Voice (1982). I kept a gratitude journal and tried to cultivate grace and composure. But despite glimpses of something profound, I often felt overwhelmed, insecure, and decidedly uncomposed. My thoughts raced toward the next goal, always chasing something in the future. I rarely felt as grounded as I did on those bike tours, with the road humming beneath me or my body anchored to steel hooks 300 feet in the air.
During that same period, while researching ecofeminist theory, I began meditating with a local Zen Buddhist group—a practice I’ve continued for 15 years. I’ve been through countless phases of “This is it!” and “This isn’t working.” I read No Time To Loose by Pema Chodrun (2007), a translation of Shantideva’s Way of the Bodhisattva (2007), an edition of Ehei Dogen’s Shobogenzo (1991), Thich Nhat Hanh’s The Miracle of Mindfulness (1999), the Dalai Lama’s The Art of Happiness (2009), and Shunyru Suzuki’s Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind (2007), among others. I also dove into yoga and stayed active outdoors—biking, hiking, skiing, paddleboarding—anything to reconnect with the world through body and breath. I’ve continued sitting at the Zen Center, going on silent retreats and speaking with my teachers about my practice.
I’ve realized that what matters most is a grounded presence—in the classroom, with my students, and with myself. I want to feel the air in my lungs and my shoes on the lecture hall floor. I want to show up fully, whether I’m excited or embarrassed, meeting each moment with courage and compassion.
—Rachael Cate
And still, here I was in early September of this year, in search of ways to become more resilient in life and teaching. So I joined the CTL’s Fall 2025 Resilient Teaching Faculty Learning Community. Now, in November, I feel something has shifted. I’m no longer chasing a saving grace. What changed? Whether because of my participation in the FLC this fall, years of practice with my teachers’ guidance, something ready inside me, or all these things, I can’t say. But I can say I think I’ve stopped trying to perform, to stay composed, to match some ideal of what a “good teacher” should be. I was exhausted from striving—always trying to make myself and my courses better, more current, more comprehensive—at the cost of being truly present.
I’ve had to let go a lot. Not of caring about teaching or wanting to support my students, but of the relentless pressure to improve. I’ve realized that what matters most is a grounded presence—in the classroom, with my students, and with myself. I want to feel the air in my lungs and my shoes on the lecture hall floor. I want to show up fully, whether I’m excited or embarrassed, meeting each moment with courage and compassion. I want to stop outrunning hard emotions like fear of failure and instead face them with openness.
I want to see the light in my students’ eyes, hear the quality of their questions, and respond with something fresh—just for this moment. Teaching now feels more like hanging on a cliff: exposed, uncertain, but alive. I may not have all the answers. I might fall. But this vulnerability is also what brings joy and meaning to my work. It’s what makes connection possible. And it’s what makes teaching fulfilling—one breath at a time.
References
Brach, T. (2004). Radical acceptance: Embracing your life with the heart of a Buddha. Bantam.
Brown, B. (2015). Daring greatly: How the courage to be vulnerable transforms the way we live, love, parent, and lead. Avery.
Chödrön, P. (2007). No time to lose: A timely guide to the way of the Bodhisattva. Shambhala.
Dalai Lama, & Cutler, H. C. (2009). The art of happiness: A handbook for living. Riverhead Books.
Dōgen, E. (1991). Shōbōgenzō: The eye and treasury of the true law (K. Nishiyama & J. Stevens, Trans.). Shunjusha Publishing.
Gilligan, C. (1982). In a different voice: Psychological theory and women’s development. Harvard University Press.
Hanh, T. N. (1999). The miracle of mindfulness: An introduction to the practice of meditation (M. L. Vo-Dinh, Trans.). Beacon Press.
Seligman, M. E. P. (2012). Flourish: A visionary new understanding of happiness and well-being. Free Press.
Shantideva. (2007). The way of the Bodhisattva (P. Crosby & A. Skilton, Trans.). Shambhala.
Suzuki, S. (2007). Zen mind, beginner’s mind. Shambhala.
Rachael Cate, Ph.D. is a Senior Instructor II in the School of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science. Her research focus is transformational and decolonized educational methods, ecofeminist and buddhist cultural theories, and the power of lifting diverse voices for cultural transformation through ethnography.
Editor’s note: This is part of a series of guest posts about resilience and teaching strategies by members of the Fall ’25 Resilient Teaching Faculty Learning Community facilitated by CTL. The opinions expressed in guest posts are solely those of the author.
Top image generated with Microsoft Copilot.
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