Mistaken Identity

While attending Cathy Toll's "Partnering To Learn:  Summer Intensive on Educational Coaching" workshop for last summer, we practiced developing an "elevator speech" to describe our jobs.  (An elevator speech is a short answer that you could give to someone in an elevator after they've asked you what you do--full delivery of your response has to occur before the person who asks reaches his/her floor.)

Here is mine (which is always a work in progress):

I am a literacy coach.  That means that I assist teachers with thinking through, trying, and reflecting on new teaching strategies in order to improve students' learning.


Teaching is a profession that is incredibly demanding on one's knowledge, decision-making and social skills, feelings, time, and (oftentimes) the teacher's family budget.  Because of this, many teachers see their careers as part of their actual human identities (much like doctors, policemen or firefighters, or anyone else with service-oriented jobs).

I think that, at times, this makes us feel more vulnerable than the average person.  It is hard to "dare greatly," allowing yourself to be nurtured and to grow when you're a public school teacher in America.  Right now, our country's politicians (and voters who elect and re-elect them) have relentlessly sent us messages of blame, shame, and disrespect.    Brene Brown sums up the best response (I think),

"Don't try to win over the haters; you are not a jackass whisperer."  

(Daring Greatly:  How the Courage to be Vulnerable Transforms the Way we Work, Live, and Lead)

So how do we trust, "show up," daring to "be seen," especially now in an environment that seems to discourage risk-taking for fear of "failure" (i.e., lower test scores)?  First of all, we must rehumanize our work.  Neither teachers nor students are "human capital" (as my state dept. of ed. has termed us).

“If we can share our story with someone who responds with empathy and understanding, shame can't survive.” 


We have to remember that not everyone deserves to hear our stories, including our teaching stories.  But an instructional coach's job is to listen with empathy and understanding--and to dare greatly with you, if you wish, by doing demonstration lessons and co-teaching.  In a relationship of equals, there is no room for blame nor shame.  Brown says, "Sometimes our first and greatest date is asking for support."  She goes on:

"...the people I really depend on were never the critics who were pointing at me while I stumbled... they were with me in the arena.  Fighting for me and with me."

I love this and see this as part of my job--to be there for our teachers, helping them to take the risk (or admit) to stumble, to be with them in the arena, fighting for their success and standing right beside them.

So to revise my elevator speech:

I am a literacy coach.  That means that I stand in the arena with teachers with thinking through, trying, and reflecting on new teaching strategies--supporting them to be "all in."

Juxtaposing this against the backdrop of America's educational arena that has been so politicized, I wonder how to help teachers because, "When shame becomes a management style, engagement dies.  When failure is not an option, we can forget about learning, creativity, and innovation." (Brown, 2012)  When a teacher tells me that s/he doesn't feel safe in taking the risk of trying new teaching strategies, they are disengaging out of fear.  She reminds us that most organizations and individuals are not willing to take the risk of real innovation; creativity and learning are inherently vulnerable--there are not guarantees... and people want certainty.  Politicians want certainty... test scores demand it.

Consider this quote from John Lennon:

“There are two basic motivating forces: fear and love. When we are afraid, we pull back from life. When we are in love, we open to all that life has to offer with passion, excitement, and acceptance. We need to learn to love ourselves first, in all our glory and our imperfections. If we cannot love ourselves, we cannot fully open to our ability to love others or our potential to create. Evolution and all hopes for a better world rest in the fearlessness and open-hearted vision of people who embrace life.”

Do you love your job?  Is the love stronger than fear?  Are you open to all that life (and your work) has to offer with passion, excitement, and acceptance?

Once again, revising my elevator speech:

I am a literacy coach.  That means that I stand in the arena with teachers, helping them to explore all they have to offer with passion, excitement, and acceptance--supporting wholeheartedness in their work.

What's your elevator speech to describe your work, your passion?