What Changed and Why It Matters

If you ever ask my mom, “What was Natalie like as a small child?” her answer 9 time out of 10 will be, “She was busy.”  That my mom’s polite way of saying they I got into everything, talked to anyone, literally shook with excitement when I hugged a friend, and was not capable of being taken out to a nice restaurant until I was 5 because I would have probably ended up in the kitchen juggling knives. I was fearless.

In kindergarten, I asked questions and spoke my mind, led the pack on the playground (sorry Mrs. Robinson), and wouldn’t have thought twice about what might happen if… I was confident.

When the first day of 1^st grade rolled around, my mom drove up to the school.  She parked the car and was ready to walk me up to the building like the rest of the mothers, when I hopped out, grabbed my backpack, slammed the door shut, began running up the sidewalk, and yelled over my shoulder, “Bye, Mom!” Thankfully my little sister (who was three at the time) was there to say, “She’s fine, Mom. I’ll take care of you.” I was unstoppable.

As time went on I became known as the kid who enjoyed playing in the rain, never wore a coat during recess, accepted any dare, would hold any animal in the science lab, and would eat anything. I was adventurous.

Then things started to change.  It happened gradually, and I am sure it was due to a variety of factors (family, friends, social/emotional development, biochemistry…), but one of the things that really stands out has to do with a duck.    

It was about halfway through first grade when I noticed I wasn’t reading the same books the other kids were reading. Or at least, I was still on the duck-in-a-pond-with-an-inflatable-ball book, while most of my classmates had moved on to the squirrels-hunting-for-nuts-in-red-leaves book.  Some had even moved on to the fish-jumping-out-of-the-water book, but not me.  It was just me and that dumb duck.

The kids who were REALLY SENSITIVE about my feelings (you should be knee-deep in my sarcasm) made comments about it.  They told me that I was, “reading the baby book” and, “only dumb kids who can’t read are still stuck on that book.”  

My teachers just told me to keep trying, and continued to work with me, but didn’t really do or say anything else about the situation.  I began to feel less and less valuable as a member of our classroom, and instead felt more and more separated from the rest of the class.  I was becoming a little less fearless, a little less confident, a little less unstoppable, a little less adventurous, and lot more self-conscious and lot less willing to put myself out there.

For the sake of not going through each “traumatic” moment that made up my 12 years in school, let’s just say that things only got worse for a while.  My insecurities grew and my self-assuredness plummeted.  I felt alone and didn’t think I had anything of value to contribute, so I kept my ideas to myself.  

(Thankfully reading did finally click for me, and even more thankfully I never, not for one second, lost my love of reading and books.  It just seems that I did better with the books that I chose at home than the ones I was required to read at school…hmmm…)

Regardless of how it happened, the damage was done, and if someone asked me to step out of my comfort zone I would have told them, “Not even if you double dog dare me!” 

What changed? How is that person the same one that just went to ISTE, is on Twitter, is getting ready to co-host her very first twitter chat (check out Sean Gaillard’s (@smgaillard) #EdBeat @ 8 pm on Wednesdays), has a blog, loves trying new things in her classroom, and embraces change that will positively impact her students? It’s simple. Becoming a teacher. Finding my passion. Finding my people, my PLN. Finding my voice and realizing that it does matter, to me. It took me a while and led me down some roads that I don’t ever wish to travel on again, but guess what, I like playing in the rain again (read http://pushingtheedge.org/navigating-risk/ by Greg Curran (@GregBCurran)).

So, why does it matter?  It matters because all of our students (and our colleagues) should come to school feeling fearless, confident, unstoppable, adventurous, ready to take risks, and know they matter.  Their classmates should value their contributions and be ready and excited to help one another. We need to create a learning environment where students value the journey, the experience of learning and collaborating together, not the trophy, or standing in the winner’s circle alone.  We as teachers need to model taking risks, setting goals, failing, going back to the drawing board, giving up control, leading so everyone is respected and heard, and never apologizing for trying our best.

Yes there will be students who, despite our best efforts, will feel discouraged, be teased, bullied, have to face enormous roadblocks, setbacks, and deal with factors that are outside our control.  However, when each of those students walk through our doors, they can and should know they are in a place where we think the sky isn’t the limit because we believe they can find a way to break through any barrier. They need to know that we will take the risk with them because we are willing to take the risk for them.    

Disclosure: At the time I was writing this blog post I was under the influence of Paul Solarz' (@PaulSolarz) Learn Like a Pirate, Greg Curran's most recent tweets, blog, and podcast Pushing the Edge, Donalyn Miller's (@donalynbooks) The Book Whisperer, and Doug Robertson's (@TheWeirdTeacher) He's the Weird Teacher.