I'm putting this (read below) out in the universe so that I (and the universe) can hold myself accountable for making things happen!
I attended a conference this past weekend and heard many great speakers give presentations on different aspects of what great educators do differently. I wasn't really sure what to expect from the conference, so I went in with an open mind and REALLY wide open eyes.
As is the case with every conference I attend, there are some sessions that are just stinky. They could be stinky because I'm tired. Or because it's after lunch. Or because I'm just really not connecting with what the person is saying. But this post isn't about the disconnection I felt at the conference at times; this post is about the absolute CONNECTION I felt several times. My main takeaways are below, WITH the action that I'll follow (that's the "I'm puttin' this out into the universe, people!" part):
1. My to-do list is in service of my to-be list.
Action: I'm not just checking things off of a list; I'm becoming the person that I want to be. The dishes. THe laundry. The gradebook submissions. The lesson planning. The Twitter chat. All of those things are taking me from Point A to Point Better. Instead of looking at them as things to check off of a list, I'm going to give myself a high five when I do something that felt mundane but moves. me. forward.
2. I choose courage or I choose comfort. I do not choose both.
My husband and I were talking about this over dessert last night. He always has a devil's advocate approach to things, so before he even said, "What if you find comfort in courage" I told him I had already thought of that. You see, this quote from the conference speaks to me because of the season of life that I and some of my friends find ourselves in. It's job hunting season. There are plenty of opportunities and we're looking for someone to give us a chance. To give us a chance to grasp the world of education by the coat tails and prove what we can do. I know we can do this. We must be courageous, because my fear of becoming "comfortable" is too great.
3. Silicon Valley doesn't have all of the answers.
I attended a presentation that talked about what Silicon Valley does to come up with the latest and greatest and was SHOCKED, SHOCKED to learn that the inventors of products like Nearpod Virtual Reality will market something to EC-12th grade education environments and have ABSOLUTELY NO CLUE about the effects of having screens mere inches away from developing eyes. How can I look my parents in the eyes and tell them that this new technology is safe for ocular development when research hasn't been done? Crazy talk.
4. You are the average of the five people with whom you spend time.
Y'all. This is a sobering thought. I thought about my 5 people, and one of them includes my dog, Oscar. While Oscar is the primary mascot of Stout Nation and I'm very happy to have him as one of my team, he has no idea about how to teach kids. I really had my eyes opened that I want to spend time with more people who approach education in my same way (mostly because I really like the way I approach working with the Youth of America). So, I've made my list of the three candidates with whom I would like to quit stalking on Twitter and start interacting.
5. Bad teachers are doing the very best they know how.
I detest using the word "bad" to describe someone. The label "bad" has such a finality to it that I don't find appealing; however, this was the language used in the conference so that's why it made it to the blog post. I have teachers with whom I work who are doing the best they know how to do because they don't have someone showing them any differently. Or maybe they DO have someone showing them differently, but the person showing them doesn't have the right words to make them turn off of the one-way road that they're on and avoid the collision up ahead. I want to have the kind of courage (see #2, above) that gives me the language I can use to help a teacher avoid a teaching traffic collision. I yearn to have conversations with fellow teachers and have them find what I'm saying worthy enough to listen. And, should I ever be in a position to be a supervisor, I want to be able to have those conversations without making their livelihood feel threatened.
To do that, here's my plan: live out--through action and word--that the MOST important person in our school is not a single person at all; it's the tiny humans who walk through our doors. The ones who are uncontrollably gassy. The ones who are so eager to learn that they run on the sidewalks into school and we shout "WALK!" because we love them too much to see them get hurt. The ones who--just the other day--I told that they felt like my security blanket from when I was a little girl, because having them close to me during carpet time was so calming and wonderful, and because I was so happy that they were in my class.
The ones who make me want to go to conferences on the weekend to learn how to be better for the tiny humans.
The tiny humans are reason enough to be courageous.
What in the world could be worthy enough to hold us back from being courageous for them?