To all of my teacher friends, if you were to go back to your very first group of students, what would you say to them?
Yesterday, when I read this tweet, I was instantly brought back in time.
25 years ago, I was energetic and enthusiastic. I was idealistic, optimistic, and had all the time in the world. On most days, my mood ranged from confident and overconfident. On rare occasions (the "rough days"), I felt like I'd rather work someplace where I cared less about what I was doing.
I was a third grade teacher.
And everywhere I went, I wore it like a badge of honor.
This question, however, it stopped me in my tracks.
While I work in the the same place now as I did back then, I sometimes encounter students from my first class. Most are around the age of 33, and lead productive lives with families of their own. While recalling names on the spot gets tougher with each passing year, I am proud to say, I never forget a face. When we exchange glances, our eyes meet, and we swap smiles, it's always a positive moment, reconnecting with a student from that first class.
If I could go back to that first group of kids, the whole class, and say something, say anything to them, what would that be?
Here are three things:
I should have talked less at you and listened more to you.
Back then, I kept myself very busy, making plans for you, coming up with ways to engage you in meaningful learning, and devising systems to hold you accountable. This was similar to the way I was taught, growing up, in a very different era. But I didn't ask enough questions. I didn't ask for enough feedback. And I didn't use this information (because I didn't collect it) to tailor school to the way you learn. I was too busy, focusing on myself, and the way I teach.
I should have learned everything about you and your life, and then made plans for you, and with you.
I applied the values I learned, growing up, to my expectations for you. Had I gotten into the practice of asking really good questions of you, I'd have had the information I needed to design school around you, the learner, not me, the teacher. There were days I could tell my lessons were a hit with you. But I rarely, if ever asked what you thought. I never considered that your behavior was your way of communicating with me, exactly how I was doing.
You taught me so much, about myself, what I needed to work on, to be better.
A quarter century gone by, I am wiser than I was as a first-year teacher. Today, I listen closely to kids. I ask good questions. I leave wait time. And I ask follow-up questions. I learn about kids' lives, and understand now, that circumstances are sometimes obstacles for us to navigate around or, in some cases, for me to remove for you, or with you. While there are days I think back to that class, wondering if any one had ever learned any thing, I know, for sure, that's true.
I learned a lot, from you. Thank you, for your patience, your understanding, and your willingness to let me make mistakes that I have since learned from. Meeting you and teaching you has made me a better teacher, and now, a better principal, not to mention, a better person, focused on empathy and getting better for kids, with kids, every day.
Click here to visit the Learning Leadership 365 site, where you may read all posts I've written.