Home for good

You’re nine years old. It’s Halloween. You decide, without even considering other options, to dress up as a union soldier from the U.S. civil war. After all, you already have a historically accurate uniform, which you painstakingly assembled over the course of many months, and this is your chance to wear it.

If that paragraph describes you, you just might be destined to teach high school social studies, which proved to be the case for Ben Galeski, a social studies and English teacher at St. Joseph’s Collegiate in Brooks. Looking back on his childhood in Bragg Creek, Galeski remembers many costume-fueled manifestations of what has turned out to be a lifelong love of history.

“I was always fascinated by ... the story of history and what people had to go through,” Galeski says. “It was really my passion about the subject, the history, being able to spend my days immersed in it, that led me into education.”

Galeski’s interest in history encompasses pretty much anything that has ever happened in any part 
​of the world, whether it be whaling, the conquistadors, South America or the Pacific War, but there is one historic event that holds special significance for ​him: the Franklin Expedition, a British sailing party that set out in 1845 to find a northwest passage through the Arctic. Both of the ships disappeared, remaining undiscovered for decades, and all 129 crew members perished.

It was his passion for this event that Galeski drew upon when he was a nervous student teacher preparing to deliver his first solo lesson. Tapping into his in-depth knowledge of the event’s minutiae and mystery, Galeski spun a yarn that had students on the edge of their seats.

“I remember little light bulbs going off above their heads,” he says. “That was kind of like a drug.”

From thriving teacher to stressed out principal

That first lesson galvanized Galeski’s resolve that teaching was the right path for him. He spent the first five years of his teaching career at a private Catholic school in Calgary before moving to St. Joseph’s. Three years later, his career took a turn. The school had an opening for a vice-principal and Galeski was asked to apply.

“I was honored … it seemed like good career advancement,” he says. “I think I was the only person who applied, so I got the job.”

Galeski’s six years as vice-principal were demanding but also impactful, mainly because he was working under a principal whom he describes as transformational.

“It was stressful to be a vice-principal, but because I got to work with her, it was worth it,” he says.

After that principal moved on to division office, Galeski took over the principal’s chair. The fit was both good and bad. Feedback from his superintendent and staff suggested he was a good principal, but he also found the job “almost all consuming.”

“I think some people are wired to be principals and other people aren’t,” Galeski says. “I was not the kind of person who could put unfinished business away mentally at the end of the day. It would nag at me.”

As the years progressed, the stress and anxiety that Galeski was feeling built to such an extreme that his doctor asked if he wanted to go on leave. Galeski refused. But he also realized he was on an unsustainable path. After five years as principal, he decided to step down and return to the classroom.

"You see other people who are able to handle it … and it’s like, why can they do it and I can’t?”

“When I talked to my superintendent about this … I wept on the phone with him, feelings of relief and feelings of shame because I felt … like I couldn’t hack it as a principal,” he says.

Although leaving the principalship meant returning to what he loved—teaching social studies— it took Galeski a couple of years to get over the shame of feeling like he’d failed.

“Pride gets in the way ... you’re the principal, you’re the boss, and you see other people who are able to handle it and it seems like the stress doesn’t bother them … and it’s like, why can they do it and I can’t?”

Turning the page

Once he was no longer a principal, Galeski realized more fully the toll it had taken on him and his relationship with his family. As he embraced his return to teaching, he also embraced his reconnection with his family, some found-time in the evenings and weekends, and a reunion with old loves like watching televised Flames games, golfing and camping.

About four years after stepping away from the principalship, Galeski decided to tackle a lifetime ambition that had long remained idle: write a novel.

“It really started as a challenge to myself. I wanted to see if I could do it,” he says.

Relying on the old adage, “write what you know,” Galeski once again turned to the Franklin Expedition.

Within a couple months he’d finished a historical novel called Starvation Cove, named after the final resting place of the expedition’s last survivors.

“When I finished writing it … I was so happy,” he says. “It was imperfect and it had problems, but it was a complete story.”

For most first-time novelists, finding a publisher is a harrowing adventure all its own, but for Galeski, all it took was one email. He was aware of an Ottawa-based publisher, Justin Press, that specializes in books with a Catholic flavour. His matched the criteria, so he sent an email.“I didn’t know what I was doing. I just took a shot,” he says.

Within a week he received a reply requesting his manuscript. He sent it. They liked it and published it.
“I was just floored. I just couldn’t believe that that had happened. One guy in Ottawa who owns this little publishing company ... liked my story and took a chance on me.”

Galeski went on to write two more novels, which Justin Press also published. He’s sold a few hundred copies of ​each book.

“I’m just grateful that I have books on a shelf with my name and ... my voice can trickle down to my children and grandchildren even when I’m gone,” Galeski says.

“I know I’m never going to become a famous author and I never did it to do that. I had stories to tell … if people enjoy the books, that’s just gravy.”

Take care

Looking back at the changes he’s experienced since leaving the principalship, Galeski can see clearly that the move was necessary for his own wellness.

“I had to go back to my passion, which is teaching, and I'll tell you, in these last seven years, I’ve done more things than I ever could have imagined, and I would never have been able to do them had I stayed in the principalship because it just demanded too much of me.”

Going forward, Galeski has taken it upon himself to share his own story of self-care, advocating for teachers to do what’s best for them even if it feels like failure.

“I just want to encourage people that they don’t have to stay in situations that they know they can’t sustain, that they know are taking too great a toll.”