I just received an email that opened my eyes. It was from a parent expressing gratitude for teaching her daughter. (These are are much better that the OTHER parent emails).
"You took a subject that she did not care much for and inspired her to push herself and really dig in, to rise above what she perceived were limitations. "
Now, I could have focused on the attack on my subject (chemistry), but there was a much more important phrase that I have been meditating on. I believe that this is the phrase that we teachers are battling against every day; "what she perceived were limitations." If I allow this student to believe her incorrect perceptions of herself, then I am not reaching my potential as a teacher. She could see a glass ceiling above her head. And she was sure that honors chemistry was just above that ceiling. She assured herself that every time she missed a question she was degrading that title of "honors". Her past had been rocky, and she had overcome so many challenges. But what she saw were the scars that remained. What I saw was potential.
There isn't a made-for-TV ending to this story. She hasn't gone on to a full ride scholarship to an Ivy League school. She hasn't, nor will she, deliver the valedictorian speech at graduation. In fact, the glass ceiling that we broke together may never be seen by anyone. The breaking of her glass ceiling happened slowly. More like chipping away at the glass.
So here is my simplified way to break the glass ceiling.
Speak the truth in love.
"Duh. I know that," we teachers think. I shouldn't lie and I shouldn't be mean. That is true, but speaking truth in love is much more challenging. You chip away at the glass ceiling by speaking truth. Don't make things up! Kids have an exceptional "bull-meter." Don't try to sell them fluff. Don't tell them they can if they can't yet. Instead, tell them that you will fight for them until they can. Don't tell them they did great just because they scored higher than someone else. Speak the truth about their ceiling. Kids, while they like to hear positive things about themselves, they know the truth.
As a basketball coach, I listen to a lot of podcasts. One of the phrases that the guys from the "Hardwood Hustle" podcast like to say is, "Don't put sugar on sugar."
Speak truth. Don't put hype on top of hype. Tell them the truth.
As kids are looking forward to the possibility of taking AP chemistry I have them do a one-on-one conversation with me about their glass ceiling. I tell them that I will honestly put them in one of four categories. And the categories aren't glamorous.
Will pass
Should pass
Could pass
Won't pass
As we head into these conversations, I tell the kids that I will speak only the truth in love to them. It is not loving to tell a kid to dive into AP, who has no chance of passing. It is not loving to tell the lazy kid with ridiculous smarts that he will pass, if you know that he could let himself down. Speak the truth in love.
And here we reach the double edged sword. I could not have those frank conversations if the students did not know that I loved them. And it has taken an entire year to prove that to the students. If I only speak truth, harsh, real, cold truth then that is what the student feels; cold. If I only speak only love and put sugar on sugar, then the truth that I want to say gets clouded. They must work together.
And this brings us back to final note I left to the girl that perceived her limitations. It was small and could be an insignificant note at the bottom of her final.
"I have been impressed with you all year. I love to watch your mind work. You have been such a help to [her friend] along the way. I appreciate you."
That note isn't the one that broke the glass ceiling. That note confirmed what I had been telling her all along. That note proved in her mind that she was no longer bumping her head on the ceiling. And as she walked out of my room after dropping off her book for the last time, she spun on her heels, chatting with her friends.
And she looked just a bit taller.
コメント