On one of those lazy days of summer, my husband and I took a road trip to visit my mom in Upper Michigan. We enjoyed homemade sushi rolls made by her husband and a time to sit chatting on the deck amidst the pines. During this visit with my mom, the conversation circled around to her observing how she and most of the people she holds in high regard did not earn “Citizenship Awards” in school. It’s something she’s shared before, and I can tell by the inflection in her voice that she takes pride in this point. She relishes the thought of being a rebel and only associating with other misfits–people who didn’t follow the rules. As I listened and nodded, I began remembering how hard I tried to follow all the rules in school and how desperately I wanted the approval of my teachers. It felt important to be liked by my teachers and by the other kids; it felt necessary. I did, indeed, get the Citizenship Award in school. But now I realized that my need for approval meant I was not someone my mom would’ve had in her company on the playground or otherwise.
I’m pushed to consider, “Have my good manners and all this rule following kept me tethered to the mediocre?” Maybe I would have been a force, rich or even famous if I’d only stopped waiting my turn, stopped politely listening, and stopped carefully following the directions given by others. I mean, what do I have to show for all these years of good citizenship, after all? In my work, I’ve been compliant–albeit sometimes begrudgingly–and I don’t know that it’s propelled me to greatness. It may have saved me from “getting in trouble” or from being targeted for acts of retribution. And when you are a subordinate, that is no small thing. However, it’s not an accomplishment worthy of note. I’ve never heard someone remembered fondly with the words, “She never got in trouble and always knew when to stay quiet.”
So this self reflection challenges me to do two things in the coming school year. First and foremost, I will try my hand at moving through my work as a teacher without fear. Instead of being motivated by a desire to “stay out of trouble,” I will be inspired to do the work of educating in a way that transforms my life and the lives of the students put in my charge. That means slowing down for meaningful discussions and building rapport through the shared JOY of learning. We will no longer consider the content of a school year in English as solely preparation for a test. I refuse to do that to kids and I refuse to reduce my lifelong work as an educator to that one indicator of success. It has always been and should always be about fostering natural curiosity and a lifelong love for learning.
Secondly, I need to examine my own practices as a teacher to ensure I’m not perpetuating a cycle of demanding blind compliance and educating through fear. The fear of not getting a good grade. The fear of looking “dumb” in front of peers. The fear of punishment from your teacher. Presently, I do think I create a safe space for students to make mistakes and share their ideas. However, I know I could strengthen my modeling of questioning and my facilitation of dynamic classroom discussions. Maybe by giving the students, like my mom, a voice in the classroom (and even a dissenting one, at that) they will feel a sense of belonging and engagement that is often lost in a more authoritarian-style classroom.
With thirty years of teaching under my belt and a secured full pension, I’m done waiting patiently.
In the words of the great Diana Ross as she sang in her hit song, “It’s My Turn”
It’s my turn
To see what I can see
I hope you’ll understand
This time’s just for me
But now it’s my turn
If I don’t have all the answers
At least I know I’ll take my share of chances
Ain’t no use of holding on
When nothing stays the same
This school year I intend to take my turn. At last!
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