This Little Light

Last week I had the pleasure of joining a professional learning session with Professor John Hattie. Copious notes where taken and so many moments stretched my thinking and challenged me in the best possible way.

But there is one story that I keep coming back to. It was a story about playing school with his young granddaughter who is in kindergarten.

During this particular game of school, she had him sit down while she asked him to write three sentences. Being the curious learner he is, he purposefully made errors in the last sentence to see if she would notice and to uncover whether she would correct him.

As she looked over his work, she gave him check marks for each sentence and then said, “Oh no, I’ve gotten it wrong!” Thinking perhaps she was about to make a statement about the errors in the last sentence he asks, “What did you get wrong?” “I didn’t use a red pen!”

Surprised to hear this, he further inquired, “But aren’t you going to correct my mistakes in the last sentence?”

Without missing a beat she said something along the lines of, “No no, you tried, good effort!”

Now, she didn’t know he had made mistakes in that last sentence. But she didn’t admit that she didn’t know. Within that the first six weeks of school, she had already learned that teachers know all the answers. They don’t talk about not knowing.

He went on the explain that she was incredibly curious and confident going into kindergarten. She knew all of her letters and could count to 100. However, at this point, she was starting to see that other students knew more than her and could seemingly do more than her. This was shaking her confidence and causing her to regress even in learning she had mastered prior to entering school.

And I have to tell you. This story made me feel seen. Which I know is a right turn alert in this blogpost, but I think I am this kindergartner right now.

When people are new to their jobs, and they are looking around seeing many people who already seem to know how we do business in the organization, seeing people who seem to know the unspoken, invisible rules of the game that are not written down anywhere, it shakes your confidence.

I feel like I’m playing that game of school right now, pretending to know, and I often don’t know. I was recently in a meeting where I very openly admitted a mistake. I remembered feeling so vulnerable and uncomfortable like certainly this would confirm what so many are believing to be true about my lack of finesse and good instincts in this new role.

But then one leader from that meeting approached me about a week later and thanked me for being so open about messing up. She said it made her feel less alone because she too is “messing up” on a daily basis.

I write about mistakes and leading with vulnerability in Legacy of Learning because leaders have to go first. It’s the only way to make it safe for others to admit they don’t know, are learning from mistakes, or that they need help.

And as uncomfortable as it is, we need to do it. Even when we are new. But man, it’s uncomfortable. And right now, I will tell you that my self-esteem is taking a major hit. There are times when it feels like I am being unfairly judged and criticized. There are times when people are offering feedback on things that don’t seem to matter in a major way or to the bigger picture. There are times that this criticism is hitting me when I feel like I am barely keeping my head above water, and it feels deeply unfair.

And I can’t do anything about it. As I suffer what feels like death by paper cuts, all I can control is myself. I can decide which feedback is constructive to my work and which feedback is not. I can decide where I choose to spend my mental energy and effort. I can only control how I show up and approach the work. Full stop.

And when all else fails, I often remind myself that while that feedback felt big for me, the person isn’t thinking about it or me anymore. They’ve already moved on, and I deserve to move on too.

But that story about the kindergartner is an important reminder that whether we like it or not, learners are watching. Kids are always watching the teacher. Teachers are watching school leaders. School leaders are watching district leaders. Community members are watching school boards. We are always modeling even when we aren’t trying to be the model.

So let’s model the good. But let’s start by modeling how to take good care of ourselves and our spirits, so we don’t lose that light…that spark that brought us into this deeply meaningful profession in the first place.

This little light of mine.

I’m gonna let it shine.

Before you offer that feedback, send that email, make that little comment, ask yourself if it’s helpful and productive. Most of us doing the best we know how to do, and we are often our worst critics. The world has plenty of critics already. What we seem to lack is rolled up sleeves and a sense of “Let’s figure it out together.” What we seem to lack is genuine curiosity, an interest in “How might we…” and a can-do spirit of togetherness.

I’m not saying we stop thinking critically or stop offering constructive feedback. I’m just asking us be those people. The light shiners. The people who unearth that one remaining burning ember inside of educators and nurture it, so it can burn bright and light the way for others.