Looking for Potential

Energetic. Enthusiastic. Hyperactive. Uncontrollable. Impulsive. Eager. Rambunctious. Vibrant. Wiggly. Kinesthetic. Athletic. Rowdy. Unfocused.

Curious. Questioning. Challenging. Defiant. Inquisitive. Searching. Intrigued. Intrusive. Disrespectful. Interested. Complaining.  

Chatty. Talkative. Verbal. Charismatic. Mouthy. Communicative. Motor-mouthed. Conversational. Social. Gregarious. Interactional. Unreserved. Rude.

Everyone has a series of lenses through which they view the world. We see what we want to see. We identify good in the things we value or that match our own viewpoints, preferences, and experiences. We frequently overlook the positive in what is unfamiliar, is different, or challenges our own ideas and views. What one person sees as a negative could be viewed as a positive by someone else.

Does society place the same value on an assertive man and an assertive woman? Do some groups of people receive praise for questioning or challenging authority while others are criticized for it? Do you look differently at a person who speaks passionately about political ideas you agree with while disparaging those who oppose your stance?

I worry that as educators we allow ourselves to get in the way of seeing the potential in every student we teach. Worse, we find fault in places where we could be looking for greatness. What if we could train ourselves to look for potential in spots where we previously ignored it? What impact could that have on the kids we teach and how they view themselves?

I am not a confrontational person. I tend to avoid conflict, hate engaging in an argument, and am more likely to back away from any kind of disagreement until I am able to speak calmly. Furthermore, I’ve never been especially physical. Horseplay was never my thing. I wasn’t one of those kids who squirmed. I’d rather sit for hours with my nose in a book or at work on a creative project.

As a teacher, it’s easy for me to see the greatness in a student who comes to class, engages, and plays along. I can find a million positive things to say about students who are eager readers, thoughtful writers, and deep thinkers. I appreciate student creativity, especially if it makes me laugh because of its cleverness.

When things get heated in class discussion, however, my first inclination is to retreat into my shell. When students get uber-competitive in a game or get a little rambunctious during a class activity, I become a little nervous. I have to remind myself that the students who seem argumentative, confrontational, rowdy, and unruly to me during those activities could be passionate, principled, persuasive, engaged, energetic, and eager if I view them through a different lens.

  

Identifying and acknowledging our own biases is the first step in learning to seek the potential in everyone we encounter. Some biases are easy for us to spot; others exist on a deeper, unconscious level.

A 2016 study found that students of color are underrepresented in gifted programs nationwide. More specifically, black students are about half as likely to be identified as “gifted and talented” as their white peers with comparable standardized test scores. The researchers crunched all sorts of numbers to try to determine the cause for this disparity. Only one factor made a significant difference in identification of “gifted” black students: the race of their teachers. The put it more bluntly, white teachers aren’t good at spotting giftedness in non-white students.

This study has so many implications for the world of education. Not only does it underscore the importance of having teacher demographics that mirror student demographics, but it also invites all of us—regardless of our race—to examine our own implicit biases. It’s easy to shift the blame for this inequity to other people, but the data indicates that those of us who are pointing the fingers also need to take a look in the mirror.

Implicit biases are natural. Everyone has them. And because they are implicit, we usually don’t know we have them. These biases exist on an unconscious level. I’m not sure we can ever identify every bias we hold, but I do think that the important work for each of us involves acknowledging the existence of these biases, trying to become more aware of them, and then taking action to correct them.

Project Implicit, a non-profit research project led by professors from University of Washington, Harvard, and University of Virginia, has a number of tests you can take that are designed to help identify implicit biases. The information they gather from participants helps further their research. Always one to contribute what I can in the name of learning (but mostly because I was curious), I took a few of their tests. Of course, I was certain that the results would indicate that I was without prejudice or bias. That’s what we would all like to believe about ourselves, right? I was wrong. The tests pointed out some things that I’d never even considered to be biases I held. I have since shared the website with others, and what we uncovered made us uncomfortable and uneasy but opened up some extremely worthwhile conversations about our biases and, more significantly, what we should do about them. It was easy to beat ourselves up for having those biases, but we soon realized that our self-criticism was counterproductive without taking steps to change.

Trying to make the shift toward actively looking for potential in others—students, coworkers, strangers I meet at Kroger—has positively altered the way I see the world and the results I get from those around me. I’m not always great at it, but I’m working at improving. I’m sure it’s something I will have to keep working on forever. If it leads to finding more of the good in others and helping them find the good in themselves, the perpetual work will have been worth it.

Thank you for all the work you do to look for potential in places where it’s not easy for you to spot.   

A Discouraging Word

            Home, home on the range

            Where the deer and the antelope play,

            Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,

            And the skies are not cloudy all day.

The range must have been a pretty happy place. Not only did the deer and antelope want to be there, but they also wanted to play. It felt like home.

 

Can the same be said about our classrooms?

It is so easy to notice the negative. I’m the worst.

I can read a wonderfully written essay and become fixated on one fairly insignificant comma error. I will sit through an exciting and engaging concert and come away thinking, “If only they hadn’t chosen that song as their encore. . . .” The one item out of place on an otherwise tidy kitchen counter makes me feel like the entire house is a mess. And that kid in the third row who is staring off into space while all the other students are reading makes me a little bit insane.

For most teachers, it’s so much easier to notice the students who are not meeting expectations than it is to notice the ones who are.

When we notice the negative, we often feel compelled to correct it. Once we start, it’s hard to stop. Our class becomes a dysfunctional family, and we are the nagging parent:

“I told you yesterday to bring your textbook. Why did none of you remember?”

“You don’t have a pen? What did you think we were going to do today, just sit here and do nothing?”

“What part of ‘Be quiet!’ was confusing?”

“You didn’t bring your homework again? You need to learn to meet deadlines and follow through. The real world has deadlines.”

“If you don’t start working and paying attention, you’re going to find yourself in summer school or taking this class again next year. And let me assure you, we don’t change it up and make it more interesting for those who come back a second time.”

“Stop. Talking.”

“You know where notebooks are stored. You’re not new. Go get yours. You’re holding up the entire class.”

“I’m waiting….”

“Susan, turn around and pay attention. Joel, we are on page 147. Get out your books, everyone. I don’t want to have to tell you again. Lisa, stop talking! Page 147, Jennifer! Michael, this is not gym class. Sit down!”

The discouraging words fly with such velocity and frequency that no deer, antelope, or human would want to spend time in this maelstrom of negativity.

It’s so easy to slip into the routine of letting the toxic negativity spew. This kind of negativity, unfortunately, permeates the lives of many of our students. They hear it at home; they hear it from peers; and then they get to hear it at school. Some of them have learned to tune it out. Others let it beat them into submission. No one thrives in its presence.

Some researchers believe that the human brain responds to negativity and criticism by shutting down. The “fight-or-flight” impulses of the amygdala take over, and the brain enters into a self-preservation mode during which no learning occurs. We can all think of times where criticism or negativity has affected us to such an extent that we could focus on little else. Teachers’ well-intentioned efforts to correct negative behaviors may be blocking student learning.  

Pay attention to the negative and positive comments you make in class. Perhaps you can record a class and count the interactions, noting the ratio of negative to positive interactions. Or ask a colleague or instructional coach to visit your class and tally them for you. If you’re like many teachers, the negative will outweigh the positive in a big way.

Once you notice that you’ve fallen into the rut of pointing out the bad, you can take steps to change your own negative behaviors. It’s time to become a celebrator of the good.

In his book High-Impact Instruction, Jim Knight devotes an entire chapter to becoming a “witness to the good.” He writes,

We are a witness to the good when we are attentive and intentional about noticing everything our students do--not just the misbehavior. We are being a witness to the good when we are especially attentive to the times when students are making the best of learning opportunities. We are being a witness to the good whenever we recognize and encourage students for acting in ways that are consistent with expectations. (316)

Becoming a witness to the good helps build connection with your students. Students who feel this bond of attachment, loyalty, and comfort will be more willing to do what you ask them to do in your classroom.

Praise should significantly outweigh criticism. Some experts recommend a six-to-one praise-to-correction ratio; some even advocate for more positive comments than that.

The type of praise matters, too. Praise can actually be harmful or counter-productive if students perceive that it’s insincere or hollow. One of the best ways to give productive praise is to make your comments descriptive rather than attributive. Praise students’ work, efforts, and behaviors rather than their traits and characteristics. Instead of saying, “You are such a kind person,” consider telling a student, “People seem to respond favorably to you,” or, “The words you use to speak to your classmates are very respectful.”  Telling a student that she is smart is less helpful than telling her that her thinking shows depth, that her analysis is specific and thoughtful, or that she understands the material and is able to think about it in a complex way. Thanking a student for having his materials on his desk will have more impact than giving negative attention to his neighbor for not being prepared.

Using praise effectively--becoming a witness to the good--can reduce classroom management issues while simultaneously transforming your classroom into a happy oasis of learning for the students...and any stray deer or antelope that might wander in. 

Thank you for keeping it positive and squelching the discouraging words. 

You Can't Do This, But You Should

Today’s blog is about something extremely important that you probably won’t be able to do. I mean, really great teachers can do it, but not everyone is a really great teacher. If, by some small chance, you are able to do it—and I’m not sure you will—you’re going to find it hard.  Not just a little hard.  Super challenging. Most teachers can’t do this at all. So, if you’re like most teachers—and most teachers are—then this is going to be nearly impossible. Let’s be realistic. You can try if you want, but don’t expect that you should be able to do it. I have absolutely zero faith in your ability to do this.

How’d that feel?

A third of the people who read that paragraph are extremely irate and are determined to read on and prove to me that they can do whatever it is I told them they probably couldn't.

Another third of the readers have already given up, clicked on the X in the top right of the screen, and moved on because they are pretty sure I’m right.

And the rest of them may attempt but will doubt themselves all along the way, and their doubts will hinder their chances of success.

This is what happens when teachers don’t believe in their students. Many of us, as successful adults who've been to college, can look back and identify those people in our lives who were our constant cheerleaders, our most ardent encouragers, our biggest fans. We succeeded partly because of our own abilities and initiative and partly because of those people who believed in us. At times, we've done things we didn't think we could do because of those supporters who knew we could.

Not all of our students have supporters, cheerleaders, encouragers, and fans in their lives. Every day, some receive messages telling them they can’t do it, that they’re not good enough, and that they will have to be content where they are. These students look to teachers to be the ones who believe in them, open doors, and allow them to soar.

Several years ago, I walked into a yoga class at my gym on a Saturday afternoon. I’d been practicing yoga for several years but had never been to that particular class or met that particular instructor. As I walked in, the teacher eyed my middle-aged, not-so-flexible body and said, “Hello. You’re probably going to have a lot of difficulty in this class. It’s really challenging.” I almost picked up my mat and walked out. But instead I adopted the “I’ll show her” mentality and huffed and puffed, sweated and strained my way through the 75 minutes. She was right; it wasn't a breeze. Several of the poses required bending and stamina that was beyond me, but at no point did the teacher offer a word of encouragement or even a validation of my effort. I haven’t been back to her class.

I remember that feeling like it was yesterday. That yoga teacher set up an expectation for failure the moment I entered the room, and I reacted with resentment. Others would respond by feeling defeated before they began. Few, if any, would surpass the instructor’s expectations and achieve at a high level.

I wonder how often as teachers we do that with our students. I sometimes catch myself saying things to them that are less encouraging than I could be. On occasion, I disparage their collective lack of success. And some days, I become that yoga teacher, setting up barriers to success that my students can’t—or don’t want to—get past. I get so caught up with pointing out the bad that I forget to celebrate the good.

My favorite yoga teachers are the ones who praise consistently. The point out the things we’re doing well. They notice effort and applaud improvement. They make their students believe in themselves. And their students sometimes surprise themselves when they realize what they've been able to do.

I began this post by trying to make you feel defeated, but I want to end it with a word of hope.

Think what a difference we can make in our classrooms—in our schools, even—if we show our students every day that we believe in them. As we empower our students, we will all experience and celebrate greater success. We can do this. It only takes a shift in what we say and the way we say it. That’s completely within our control. Let’s make it happen.