Two successes I've had lately, but mostly some thoughts about encouraging insight and inspiration on our parenting journey.
I stumbled on two things that made a difference for me, one in my teaching and one in my parenting.
I wanted to mention those in case they are useful to you and may perhaps give you a principle for you to think about that may be adapatable for you.
More importantly, however, I wanted to talk less about what I learned and more about what I have learned about learning, things I have learned about how to get insights, how to stumble on helpful things.
The first key is this paradoxical.
I am constantly surprised by how very little I seem to have learned over the years as a teacher and parent because I am constantly surprised when I learn something that is new to me, but, in retrospect, seems like it should have been blindingly obvious.
I am constantly surprised by just how constantly surprised I am.
This isn’t merely a humblebrag, nor is it the badly-disguised, faux-self-deprecating, false-modesty kind of thing that we all do sometimes. I mean this literally.
I have been teaching officially, in the classroom each day, now for something like 22 or 23 years (it gets a bit murky, but let’s just say 20). I have been working in schools for much longer—something like 37. I have five kids, four of whom are grown.
I feel like I should know more now and be surprised by less. And yet, the most frequent takeaway I have is, “Wow! Why am I only figuring this out now?”
Looking back, I feel like I only started to approach getting close to being even mildly proficient at teaching and parenting once I assumed I knew almost nothing and started asking lots of questions of myself (and also my students and kids and other teachers and parents I admired).
In retrospect, I think it can take a great deal of experience in something to realize just how little we know. And I think it takes many of us a bit of time to be confident enough to talk about what we don’t know. That is made more difficult by the fact that our culture generally does not value or reward people for being honest and vulnerable about what they don’t know.
I think some of this is also based on the fact that getting good at something takes a lot of practice. We have to learn and master the basics before we can start synthesizing, experimenting, and doing the things that lead to more original understanding on our part.
Often—maybe almost always—I find that some of the insights that have the biggest impact in my parenting and teaching don’t sound all that impressive.
Some of the most transformative, empowering insights or tricks aren’t usually original in the sense that they are groundbreaking, novel, unique, or terribly sophisticated.
Rather, I find that a lot of really powerful things come down to fairly simple actions, but that consistently weaving these actions or approaches into daily work takes a degree of self-awareness, self-control, and basic proficiency that are not easy to come by.
It is not that one suddenly discovers a new concept from out of the blue that changes everything. Rather, after years of effort, one is suddenly in a position to try a variation or make a small experiment.
Or, you simply stumble onto something that works for you.
And, of course, as parents—and humans—we often tend re-learn things, learn them more deeply, learn them better, or learn how to apply them more effectively or often. We learn how something we thought we knew actually has broader, deeper, or wider application. There is very little new content or information we learn in the sense that no one knew about it earlier.
The other thing I have learned is that often insights, innovations, and improvements in our practice come because we are prioritizing and practicing certain specific values or interactions and when we are thinking about this constantly. The reality is that we can only have a very small number of priorities. Our highest values will ultimately guide and form us. What we genuinely care about will eventually manifest. This is liberating—but also a reminder on choosing carefully what we really value.
Over the years, I have often shared new insights and discoveries I’ve made and some people will say, “Oh. I’ve been doing that forever.”
However, I’ve also found that I’d hear quietly from others who were saying, “I’m so glad you mentioned that.”
So—if you have been doing this forever, congratulations!
If this helps you, then wonderful!
One of the thing I have learned about learning from people—both as a parent and a teacher—is to be less focused on the specifics and immediate relevance of what they learn and more focused on the principles I can adapt to my own situation. This has given me an almost endless range of fantastic teachers.
I even learn from bad or problematic examples. Once you start really thinking about your own work and trying to learn it is amazing how teachers and teaching experiences emerge—and how you can make this almost automatic.
But again, these are most often small and subtle.
Parenting insights, innovations, and discoveries—inspiration—the things that really work, are generally going to be small steps that help us do something better, not a series of earth-shattering discoveries.
Thus, a productive parenting discovery may not seem like that much, but if even a small insight, step, or process helps us achieve our goals better, often, and more routinely, that is a significant discovery!
It isn’t the complexity, novelty, or uniqueness of new ideas or actions that make them valuable. The value is found in how something new helps us individually become more consistent and proficient and more fully integrated with our values.
I want to talk about two things I recently did or learned, along these lines that have changed me.
I have been consciously trying to be a loving and affirmative teacher now for at least 20 years. I have been working at it in a systematic, intentional way for about 15, trying to make it a routine part of all I do, and, in the last 10 years have become laser-focused on this in my self-evaluations of every interaction I have.
Sometimes I fail those self-evaluations. I still all do this imperfectly. I want to be and do so much better than I am.
However, all I can do is what I can currently do, and try to grow and improve. This, I think, is the essence of parenting. None of us are good enough at it. Hopefully, however, we are all improving.
Imperfections not withstanding, I have gotten better at this goal over time.
Right before Thanksgiving, I had an idea. It just came, so I followed the nudge and sent an individualized email to every child in the middle school telling them why I was grateful for them. I copied their parents on the email as well.
It would be hard for me to quickly explain the impact that this had. I think the kids and some parents received it well. But here’s the thing—the biggest impact was not on kids or parents. It was on me and the way I do my job and the way I interact and what I see in my students. Any benefit to anyone else is great, but it changed me. And a lot of times, having new eyes is a very helpful gift to parents.
This is pretty simple on one level. Send an email. But I thought of it because I am consistently thinking about how to support affirm and nurture the kids. Now it seems easy and incredibly obvious. But again, it only came to mind because I am always trying to figure out ways to do this.
Let me pause here and ask something: have you told your teen lately why you are grateful for them? I don’t mean just that you are thankful for them, but the why of it all. What you love and admire about them? If not, try it.
Second, my wife and I have a series of basic behaviors we have been wanting our teen to do more routinely. To date, we have had little success. With his older siblings, we simply required them to do it, and to varying degrees they did, but with mixed results at best.
However, our youngest has been almost intractable.
After lots of struggle, we came up with a simple plan and a big incentive. It requires more work on my part than previous efforts, and one could say that it’s happening at a snail’s pace. And sometimes I grumble about the size of the incentive.
And yet, the other day, my child engaged with this task in a small, momentary way that showed it was taking root more authentically.
Offering the incentive and taking my own advice in terms of thinking about ZPD and scaffolding have created a wonderful outcome!
None of this is earth-shattering. But these two incidents have changed how I do my work and helped me nudge closer to my ideals and objectives. Honestly, they have changed me a little.
I know from my creative work that inspiration is not something you can command, but that it tends to come when we are grappling in the trenches, working to actively solve problems, and when we get in the habit of acting on it.
Happy parenting! You’ve got this!
Sincerely,
Braden
Oh, Braden! I love reading and engaging with your thoughts. There are SO MANY good lines in this post -- "I feel like I should know more now and be surprised by less."; ""it can take a great deal of experience in something to realize just how little we know.", plus so much more. I find myself thinking about your description of learning -- how long it takes to know what you don't know, the re-learning as we are ready, etc. -- and how rarely we apply that lens & grace to children. Look how long it takes us, the grown adults, to really learn things! And yet we expect children to quickly, easily, and without disruption learn new ways of acting, behaving, & thinking?
Your comments re the powerful impact of the Thanksgiving notes you sent to student -- on YOU -- made me think about a movie I watched w my husband this weekend, To Leslie. (It's currently on Netflix). It's gritty & deals w substance use AND it's also a story about grace, forgiveness, grudges, and open hearts. Approaching & interacting with someone w an open heart -- seeing and responding to their humanity, not all of their mistakes & shortcomings -- is really the most powerful thing in the world, and so, so hard to do. The stories in our heads & our ideas and notions of people affect how we interact with them.