Balance, not division. Compassion, not attack. Conversation, not war.

Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It’s a relationship between equals. Only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others. Compassion becomes real when we recognize our shared humanity. ~ Pema Chödrön

by @debsnet

Often I am struck by argumentative battles in traditional media, on social media and around the blogosphere. I appreciate those writers, commentators and educators who share their musings, experiences, readings, and perspectives, without using divisive loaded language or attack. I think the rantiest I have gotten was this post on the APPR reforms in New York and this one around whether teachers can be researchers, but I attempted to frame my criticism through making transparent my perspective and asking clarifying questions. Balance.

I have written a lot about my school’s coaching model, as it is kind of my baby and it’s something which I think is worth sharing; others might gain from hearing our story. Yet this coaching model is not stand alone. It is not as though teachers at my school are only coached by teacher-coaches in a non-evaluative, non-hierarchical model. In their first year at the school, teachers participate in a rigorous evaluative permanency process. Every year they have a conversation with their line manager, who touches base with them on their work, goals and classroom practice. Every third year, teachers have their coaching cycle with their manager. This is more evaluative and performative by its nature, and by the nature of the relationship. Teachers additionally work with instructional consultants. Leaders work with coaches. Professional learning community teams and action research projects work alongside. Growth and evaluation. Balance.

I have written about the creative things I trial in my classroom like a term without grades and genius hour for students and teachers. These are things at the experimental end of the spectrum of what happens in my lessons, so I share them as stories of experience and part of a conversation. I do these things to develop engagement of my often-reluctant high school English students, to build their self-efficacy and to help them learn to rely on themselves as drivers of learning, rather than entirely on me as Teacher with a capital T.

Does that mean I don’t use explicit instruction? Of course not! I explicitly teach concepts, skills and texts, although I temper this with encouraging students to do their own thinking and to trust their own thinking, rather than expecting that I can fill them, as vessels, with the answers. What are the ideas of the text? What interpretations might be drawn? Answers can come from me or from Spark Notes, but if I do my job properly, students will have the skills, understandings, language and cognitive capacity to draw their own interpretations, from their own contexts, and justify these using logic and evidence. The best student responses comprise original thinking, not regurgitated knowledge. The best teachers focus not just on effective learning (our core business, of course!) but developing learners and passion for consuming, curating and creating knowledge.

In my Head of English roles at three schools I have ensured a balance between explicit instruction and those strategies which propel love of reading, power in writing and deep intellectual engagement in ideas and discussion. Interestingly, Charlotte Danielson’s heavily-researched Framework for Teaching has its ‘proficient’ descriptors describing teaching which is expertly directed by the teacher, and its ‘distinguished’ teaching descriptors outlining lessons in which students are taking responsibility for their own learning and behaviour. Creative and explicit. Balance.

I have written about lyrical metaphors for PhD study, and only occasionally about the unsexy logistics of what the graft actually looks like. My conceptual framework draws in part from fictional literature. Does this mean my PhD is devoid of hard, critical, scientific work? No. My PhD is of course the result of the logical, systematic working through of literature, data and research problems. When writing the Limitations section in the conclusion of my thesis I was highly aware that all research has its limitations. Extensive quantitative data can show us patterns and effects, but these may be faceless. Qualitative data can drill down deep into the messy humanness of lived experience which may be unrepresentative of wider groups and therefore not generalizable. Yet each study adds its tiny piece of understanding to the layers of what is known. Research is conversation. Imaginative and systematic. Broad and deep. Balance.

I would love to use the line ‘I’m a lover not a fighter’ but I think I’m both. I believe in sharing and celebrating our stories, but I will advocate fiercely for my students, fight for what I believe is right and argue for my research. Balance.

From a history of my posts, it is probably clear that I am seduced by the lyrical, by storytelling, by creative approaches and by metaphor. Yet I am not one dimensional. Nor is my teaching, my thinking, my researching or my living. Balance.

I came across this excellent recent TED talk from Jon Ronson on the way social media has moved from giving voices to the voiceless, to an angry mob mentality of shaming and abuse, in which people seem to forget compassion and morality.

While I love robust discussions which take us out of the echo chamber of we-all-agree-high-fiving, I also think we need to approach these with compassion, thoughtfulness and a view of each other as human beings. We can disrupt with respect. We can disagree gracefully. We can advocate with civility. (And if you throw in a metaphor, you’ll totally have me!)

by @debsnet

The perfection of being imperfect: connecting with self & others

I cling to my imperfection, as the very essence of my being. ~ Anatole France

perfect imperfection

perfect imperfection

At times 2014 has felt like a bombardment of personal, professional, social and global examples of sad, heartbreaking, harrowing stuff. While I have written about tame topics like the pressures on grown ups to conform to societal expectations and on the importance of finding our tribe, our fellow weirdoes, our like-interested kindred spirits, I am agonisingly struck by the importance of the need for self-acceptance, self-reflection, connection and compassion. It seems so important to reflect on our acceptance of self and others, ‘just as we are’ (as Bridget Jones’s Mark Darcy would say), and on how we might teach this (is it teachable?) to our children and students.

This week I discovered the Not Perfect Hat Club, a movement inspired by teachers who want to encourage their students to embrace their individuality and realise that it is ok to be ‘not perfect’. As someone who is aware of my own geekery, my own (I like to think, lovable) weirdness, and my own penchant for wearing literal and metaphorical hats of all descriptions, the sentiment of the Not Perfect Hat Club resonates with me. It is the ‘It’s Ok And Even Fabulous Not To Be Perfect’ Club. It is the ‘Embrace and Celebrate Who You Are, Whoever That Is’ Club. It is a tangible hook which students can use to articulate and work through their own (lovable) imperfections.

a collection of my many hats as snapped in Australia, England, Iceland, Sweden & Montenegro

some of my many hats as snapped in Australia, England, Iceland, Sweden & Montenegro

This was also the week that Australians banded together over the #illridewithyou hashtag, a clicktivistic social media movement which attempted to bring Australians together at a time which threatened to be about difference and division. In the wake of the Sydney siege, this hashtag brought people together in solidarity and compassion. It made me wonder about how our children and students will find their sense of community in a world which sees clicking as connecting, likes on Instagram as measures of self-worth and the selfie-stick as a tool for online image crafting. In what contexts will they get a sense of belonging and an ‘I see you; I get you; I understand you’ conscious connection?

How can we help our children, students, family and friends to know that being ‘not perfect’ is perfect? That being their imperfect, authentic selves is not only enough, but wonderful? That we can all live, grow and learn with, from and alongside each other’s imperfect perfection?

More questions than answers, today!

A tribe is a group of people connected to one another, connected to a leader, and connected to an idea. For millions of years, human beings have been part of one tribe or another. A group needs only two things to be a tribe: a shared interest and a way to communicate. ~ Seth Godin

by @debsnet

I wonder what I was more likely to find standing on an Icelandic glacier in my Russian hat – a tribe or my authentic self?