Well at work—and other good things

The third Monday of every January is often referred to as Blue Monday, supposedly the saddest day of the year. In 2026, it falls on January 19. While Blue Monday is not supported by scientific evidence, it resonates with many people for understandable reasons.

In Alberta, January typically brings the coldest temperatures and the shortest days. We drive to work in the dark and return home in the dark—enough to make even the most resilient among us want to stay under the covers. This time of year also coincides with the arrival of post-holiday bills, and for many teachers, finances are particularly tight following the teachers’ strike in October. Add to this the quiet disappearance of New Year’s resolutions that felt so achievable just weeks ago, and it’s easy to see why January can feel heavy.

It’s no wonder the idea of Blue Monday looms large.

Feeling low at this time of year is not unusual. However, Blue Monday reflects a broader deficit lens, one that focuses on what is missing or not enough: not enough daylight, not enough warmth, not enough money, not enough energy. This same deficit thinking often shows up in education, where attention is drawn to what is lacking rather than what is working: test scores are too low, teachers aren’t doing enough, school leaders aren’t supportive enough. The list can feel endless.

For many of us, a deficit mindset is easier to adopt than an appreciative one. Our brains are wired with a negativity bias—an evolutionary adaptation that helps us detect danger and stay safe. Negative experiences tend to elicit stronger emotional reactions and are more easily remembered than positive ones. While this bias is useful for survival, remaining stuck in it can limit our ability to notice moments of competence, care, connection and growth.

From a well-being perspective, attending to positive experiences matters. Noticing what is going well—however small—can become a source of individual strength. When shared, these moments can also help build school communities where staff feel supported and able to thrive. With intention, appreciation can be practiced and expanded.

An appreciative approach begins with self-compassion. Psychologist Kristen Neff invites us to consider this: “Instead of mercilessly judging and criticizing yourself for various inadequacies or shortcomings, self-compassion means you are kind and understanding when confronted with your failings—after all, who ever said you were supposed to be perfect?”

According to Neff, self-compassion has three core dimensions:

1. Self-kindness — Treat yourself as you would a trusted friend. Notice when your inner voice becomes harsh, and gently reframe your self-talk with care and understanding.
2. Common humanity — Remember that struggle is part of the shared human experience. Every teacher faces challenges, and recognizing this can reduce feelings of isolation.
3. Mindfulness — Slow down and allow yourself to notice your emotions without judgment. Mindfulness creates space to respond with care rather than criticism.

Self-compassion is not easy, and it takes practice, especially in a profession shaped by constant demands and a culture of self-sacrifice. Our brains may be wired to spot what’s wrong, but self-compassion offers a powerful pathway to well-being. Practiced individually and collectively, it can help reframe deficit thinking about our work and ourselves.

While self-compassion and collective compassion are not quick fixes for the deep structural challenges facing public education—including shortages of resources and people—they can strengthen our capacity to cope, connect and care for one another. In doing so, they help lay the groundwork for more resilient schools and healthier staff communities—even in the darkest days of winter.