I remember having a conversation with my friend MD a couple years back. She was a year ahead of me in high school, and she is a teacher too, working for a charter school in California. I wish I had more opportunities to see her teach; she is an absolutely incredible educator. In this particular chat, MD was telling me about some of the awesome student-initiated projects that her kiddos had done throughout the year. We agreed that in order for learners to be able to do this, the teacher needs to trust them. Many teachers I know (myself included) have some control-freak tendencies, and this can be a scary idea. "Give away control? To the children?!" Even though my inner control freak did not always like it, I strove to share classroom responsibilities and ownership of learning with my students. That's so much of what inquiry is about, after all. It wasn't always easy. However, it truly crystallized in my new role this year.
Recently I received a "spotlight" comment (a feature of our schoolwide goal-setting software, commenting on a colleague's work) from one of our administrators, Ms. R. She coordinates the MYP and DP curricula, and her eighth grade son is in my drama class and on my tech crew. He is a spectacular kid, and a natural technician. He just joined the crew in August, and I honestly cannot believe he's only been doing it for a trimester; he has taken to the work like a fish to water. She has the unique perspective of seeing my work as a faculty member and as a parent.
In her spotlight, Ms. R commented on the very thing I grappled with as an elementary school teacher - in her words, "enabling students to take on leadership positions and own their roles." But as I reflected on it, I realized that this year, it hadn't been hard. In fact, it was necessary. I have said to my student crews after every show this year, "I could not have done it without you," and that is 100% true. I share the responsibility because I HAVE to - there is no way I can be everywhere at once and do everything that needs to be done. For them to operate the expensive and dangerous equipment that are trademarks of any theatre, I HAVE to trust them.
The way that I train my student technicians is, by necessity, through the inquiry model that I had striven for in previous teaching roles. I find it applies even more naturally and authentically in this setting; quite frankly, when teaching these skills, there is no other way to do it. My kiddos will not learn what they need to from a lecture. They have to play, explore, fail, wonder, break things, and learn how to fix them. They tell me what they want to learn more about, and we create learning opportunities together that will allow them to do that. We run into real-life problems and collaborate to solve them. And as I tell them again and again - and as a few of them are really starting to believe it - the best way for them to really learn is by working on a show and being thrown in headfirst. Experiential learning is a cornerstone of our school philosophy. Performances are also where the technicians end up with their greatest sense of accomplishment.
Ms. R's comment came at the perfect time, when I was really able to reflect upon it and apply it to my work, past, present, and future. Seeing how the student tech crews have grown and developed and flourished throughout the year, I have seen firsthand what I already cognitively knew: this is the best way for kids to learn. There are a few key factors that have allowed that to really come to fruition for me this year. I have the advantage of working exclusively with students who have chosen to be there, so the engagement and the buy-in are already there. We do not have the added pressure of formal assessment (although work in live theatre does present a different sort of pressure). I have a lot of great "experts" within the crew who can mentor during productions or lead mini-lessons during our club blocks. And as I said - I need these kids! It is crucial to the success of the theatres that I trust these students to do their work. The stakes are high.
So finally, my takeaway. Obviously, I am not saying anything that hasn't been said a thousand times before (inquiry teaching works, give students leadership and they will own their learning, etc. etc...what else is new?). This post is mostly for me as part of my reflective practice, my growth as a teacher. Having spent the semester teaching in this way (without always being aware of it), I can now step back and critically analyze the factors that work, and find ways to replicate them or bring them with me when I return to a more academic classroom setting.
**********
Currently reading: still devouring Talking As Fast As I Can
Current high: three sleeps 'til tapas, museums, parks, and family!
Current low: last night's concert made for a late night and a sleepy Wednesday
Tuesday, December 13, 2016
Monday, December 12, 2016
Stop, Impostor!
Today I was sitting on the stage after a concert dress rehearsal, chatting and joking with two of the music teachers. As I strolled toward the door with GS, he stopped. He turned to me and said, "Grace, you have no idea how glad I am you are doing this job this year."
It was about eleven months ago that I received an offer I never expected: to become the technical director and production manager of my school's theatres. When the offer came out of Mr. W's mouth, I'm pretty sure I sat in pure stunned silence for about ten seconds. Why me? I wondered. About a week later I accepted the job (after much debate), and the change was announced schoolwide two weeks later.
Sometime in between those two things happening, I had a panic attack.
I remember vividly - it was shortly before a rehearsal for our all-school musical and I rushed SW, babbling and crying and hyperventilating and panicked that I couldn't possibly do this no way what the heck was everybody thinking and honestly what the heck was I thinking who was I to even consider?!? She talked me off the ledge (on that day and many since), reassuring me (for what was not the last time) that they would not have offered me the job if they didn't think I could do it.
Now, of course, I think my school's administration is made up of some incredibly smart, competent people. But for some reason, on this particular point, I was convinced they had all lost their minds. Here they were, replacing a TD carrying fifteen or twenty years of relevant experience with a green young stage manager slash drama teacher. What on earth were they thinking?!
Rationally, I know what they were thinking. Here's someone who already knows the theatre spaces. She knows our faculty, she knows our kids, she knows our program. She may not have the same technical strengths as her predecessor, but she has other strengths that we need. On a good day, I can even identify what some of those strengths are. But sometimes, my brain can only focus on the opposite, and I manage to convince myself that it's what everyone is thinking. She doesn't know the spaces or the gear as well. She doesn't have nearly as much experience. They only gave her the job because she's already here. She had no business even being considered for this position, much less accepting it.
If this sort of self-talk sounds familiar to you, congratulations! You may be dealing with impostor syndrome. Impostor syndrome is common among high-achieving individuals - particularly women - who struggle to accept their accomplishments as their own, more often chalking it up to luck, good timing, or other external factors. They live in constant fear of being revealed as a fraud, because they believe they did not get to where they are simply based on their own merits. I lived in this state of panic as each "first" in my new job approached: the first assembly, the first concert, the first theatre production. I'm not going to be able to do it. They'll realize I'm a fake. SW can attest, there were many tears throughout these first months.
But as each "first" came and went without a hitch, I was more and more able to internalize the accomplishments, more readily able to accept praise for my work instead of denigrating it. I stopped beating myself up for making mistakes. I realized that, despite a steep learning curve, I am good at this job. I may not be good at it in the same ways that my predecessor was, but I bring different skills and assets to the position.
---
It was about eleven months ago that I received an offer I never expected: to become the technical director and production manager of my school's theatres. When the offer came out of Mr. W's mouth, I'm pretty sure I sat in pure stunned silence for about ten seconds. Why me? I wondered. About a week later I accepted the job (after much debate), and the change was announced schoolwide two weeks later.
Sometime in between those two things happening, I had a panic attack.
I remember vividly - it was shortly before a rehearsal for our all-school musical and I rushed SW, babbling and crying and hyperventilating and panicked that I couldn't possibly do this no way what the heck was everybody thinking and honestly what the heck was I thinking who was I to even consider?!? She talked me off the ledge (on that day and many since), reassuring me (for what was not the last time) that they would not have offered me the job if they didn't think I could do it.
Now, of course, I think my school's administration is made up of some incredibly smart, competent people. But for some reason, on this particular point, I was convinced they had all lost their minds. Here they were, replacing a TD carrying fifteen or twenty years of relevant experience with a green young stage manager slash drama teacher. What on earth were they thinking?!
Rationally, I know what they were thinking. Here's someone who already knows the theatre spaces. She knows our faculty, she knows our kids, she knows our program. She may not have the same technical strengths as her predecessor, but she has other strengths that we need. On a good day, I can even identify what some of those strengths are. But sometimes, my brain can only focus on the opposite, and I manage to convince myself that it's what everyone is thinking. She doesn't know the spaces or the gear as well. She doesn't have nearly as much experience. They only gave her the job because she's already here. She had no business even being considered for this position, much less accepting it.
If this sort of self-talk sounds familiar to you, congratulations! You may be dealing with impostor syndrome. Impostor syndrome is common among high-achieving individuals - particularly women - who struggle to accept their accomplishments as their own, more often chalking it up to luck, good timing, or other external factors. They live in constant fear of being revealed as a fraud, because they believe they did not get to where they are simply based on their own merits. I lived in this state of panic as each "first" in my new job approached: the first assembly, the first concert, the first theatre production. I'm not going to be able to do it. They'll realize I'm a fake. SW can attest, there were many tears throughout these first months.
But as each "first" came and went without a hitch, I was more and more able to internalize the accomplishments, more readily able to accept praise for my work instead of denigrating it. I stopped beating myself up for making mistakes. I realized that, despite a steep learning curve, I am good at this job. I may not be good at it in the same ways that my predecessor was, but I bring different skills and assets to the position.
---
Flash forward to the present. As GS said these kind words, my eyes filled with tears. Someone who worked closely with my predecessor for five years - who had his concerts transformed by his technical prowess - was praising me and the work I have done throughout the year. He can see better than many that my predecessor and I approached the job differently, and neither approach is better or worse - but GS is still seeing the results he needs onstage. This is a man who I know to be genuine and authentic, who does not heap on false compliments where they have not been earned. I cannot begin to tell you how warm and positive this simple comment felt. It was so validating.
Of course, the credit does not belong solely to me. My students make me look damn good. The training they have received over the months and years they have worked in the theatres pay off. From the student who I trust to mix sound even better than I can, to the student who anticipates every cue I am about to call, to the student who I turn to give an instruction to just to see they are already doing what I was about to ask, I am so grateful for the ways in which they lift up the work that we do every day.
---
Oh, and to those of you who may think impostor syndrome sounds a bit too familiar: be kind to yourself. Talk to yourself with the loving words and gentle tone you would use with your dearest friends. And listen to those who tell you this:
You may not believe it the first time - or even the first thousand times - but keep listening.
**********
Currently reading: Talking As Fast As I Can by Lauren Graham
Current high: I mean, obviously, this. Plus there's pho simmering on the stove, and only 3.5 school days 'til holiday break!
Current low: honestly can't think of one :)
Sunday, December 4, 2016
Schmoozing for Introverts
Let me start by saying this: I love professional development. I feel sorry for anyone who sees professional development as a chore - a way to keep their licensure active, something mandated by school administrators, the list goes on. But I can't get enough of it. It's a wonderful way for me to enrich my teaching practice and enhance the work my students do every day.
But here's the catch. (There's always a catch, isn't there?)
I'm horrible at networking.
My father is a world-renowned educator, known in circles across the globe for his work in instructional technology over the past two decades. Whenever he takes the Myers-Briggs typology indicator, he consistently scores 100% on extroversion. He is simply brilliant with people, and loves spending the evening hours after a full day of conference sessions chatting people up in the hotel bar. To me, that sounds like utter torture.
So here's the thing. I know that networking is the best way to build your professional learning network, develop connections, and find opportunities for the future. And obviously that is something that I want for myself. But after a full day of attending workshops or conference sessions, as a social introvert, I find myself completely spent. It's all I can do to make it back to my hotel room and order room service. I want to challenge myself, to push myself, to go to the networking party or grab that free drink from the hotel bar. But motivating myself to do that after a full day of "people-ing" is usually more than I can muster.
I always prefer to end my blog posts by summing up my ideas or with a wise statement - but here I end with a question, and I really want to know the answer...
How can introverts network more effectively?
**********
Current high: awesome weekend at the Google Summit, including a new professional website and becoming a Level One Certified Educator!
Current low: seven straight days of waking up before the sun, and five days of it to go...
Currently reading: between books, but Ms. W has started faculty book clubs for January - looking forward to delving into Bryan Stevenson's Just Mercy, Todd Rose's The End of Average, and Wendy L. Ostroff's Cultivating Curiosity in K-12 Classrooms
But here's the catch. (There's always a catch, isn't there?)
I'm horrible at networking.
My father is a world-renowned educator, known in circles across the globe for his work in instructional technology over the past two decades. Whenever he takes the Myers-Briggs typology indicator, he consistently scores 100% on extroversion. He is simply brilliant with people, and loves spending the evening hours after a full day of conference sessions chatting people up in the hotel bar. To me, that sounds like utter torture.
So here's the thing. I know that networking is the best way to build your professional learning network, develop connections, and find opportunities for the future. And obviously that is something that I want for myself. But after a full day of attending workshops or conference sessions, as a social introvert, I find myself completely spent. It's all I can do to make it back to my hotel room and order room service. I want to challenge myself, to push myself, to go to the networking party or grab that free drink from the hotel bar. But motivating myself to do that after a full day of "people-ing" is usually more than I can muster.
I always prefer to end my blog posts by summing up my ideas or with a wise statement - but here I end with a question, and I really want to know the answer...
How can introverts network more effectively?
**********
Current high: awesome weekend at the Google Summit, including a new professional website and becoming a Level One Certified Educator!
Current low: seven straight days of waking up before the sun, and five days of it to go...
Currently reading: between books, but Ms. W has started faculty book clubs for January - looking forward to delving into Bryan Stevenson's Just Mercy, Todd Rose's The End of Average, and Wendy L. Ostroff's Cultivating Curiosity in K-12 Classrooms
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