Tonight's Poet Corner: Introspection
So, here's the thing: I may have said that I needed to be purposely vague regarding my job. In this situation, however, I have a lot on my mind.
This week only consisted of three school days, and it felt like one of the longest weeks of my life. But I want to stick my initial plan, and I don't want to be too specific, so I'm mostly going to talk a bit about a little something called leadership. Don't worried; there's a point.
I realize now, as I write this introspection, that I never told the story of one major screw-up I made while working in AmeriCorps from 2012-2013. While a member of the BAYAC/OCASA branch of the organization, I worked as an afters chool program leader, running a literacy program called GirlSMART for twelve second-grade girls who were still struggling to speak, read, and write English. Needless to say, I was not exactly stellar at working with very young students. I've always done better with older kids, especially teenagers, and classroom management was definitely not my forte (and I still have much to work on regarding that even now, especially as a young teacher). I raised my voice a lot during that class, and it wound up scaring one student so much that she actually begged to be taken out of the program so she wouldn't have to deal with me.
When I was informed of this, I was absolutely devastated. In my struggles to be a friendly yet effective instructor, I had terrified a seven-year-old girl and pushed her away from what she saw as a scary environment for her. I remember sitting in front of my campus supervisor, almost drowning in my own tears, verbally shaming myself for being so irresponsible and clumsy regarding my teaching. And I distinctly recall saying, as I managed to get my voice back, that maybe I should just give up. "Maybe," I said, "I'm just not meant to do this."
Now, as someone currently in a leadership position, I most likely would have approached this in an empathetic way. To work with someone who has had a bad experience, who has become frustrated with the situation and feels as if they have no choice but to walk away, means that you have to put yourself in their shoes. You have to figure out how to accommodate for them while also reiterating what is necessary to be successful in their job. Never once have I imagined refusing to reach out a hand to someone dealing with any sort of anxiety and self-doubt; instead, I have always sought to comfort, restructure, and reengage. And in many situations, it's worked out for everyone.
My supervisor didn't do any of those things. Instead, she said to me, with almost no emotion in her voice: "Maybe you're right. Maybe this really isn't something you could do."
Now, granted, she did try to salvage this comment by claiming that I could do better with older students (though she specifically mentioned working "in a college," her words). But by that point, I knew the damage was already done. Rather than seeing my moment of anguish and panic be treated as an opportunity for growth and development, I witnessed my behavior being used against me. From that point on, I firmly believe that my supervisor lost all confidence in my ability to push the envelope and branch out in my teaching - not that being a glorified instructional aide gives you that much space to grow, anyway, but still. She saw my desire to give up, and she figured that she may as well let me.
That incident seriously stunted my progress as an educator, and it's one of the many reasons why I took longer than expected on both starting and finishing my teaching credential. My self-esteem has never exactly been that stable: I'm constantly second-guessing myself, I'm incredibly self-deprecating, and I can be over the top when it comes to how aware I am of the mistakes I make. I overcompensate for every tiny faux pas because in my head, I believe that they might be a lot worse than they actually are. I'm certainly not saying that this supervisor is the sole reason why I struggle sometimes with my confidence as a teacher and a leader, but it definitely didn't help.
Leadership means a lot of things. It means drive, flexibility, and self-sacrifice. It means accountability, as well as developing interpersonal and communication skills. It means going above and beyond what is expected of you so that others who work under you can aspire to be like you in the future. But one crucial element of leadership is usually left out, especially in a cutthroat business environment: Compassion. The ability to understand people's actions and feelings, and to work with said actions and feelings to improve one's work ethic and attitude, is much more difficult to attain and master than certain leaders might think. Some managers and bosses may never have to learn compassion. I think what I'm doing right now is an exception to that no-compassion rule.
So what I'm saying is that right now, my students in leadership positions need to grow into that compassionate leader necessary to operate a team like the one we presently have. Sure, we have a lot to do, and we can't let drama slow us down. But being someone who has anxiety issues, who frequently suffers from panic attacks and moments of despair in which everything seems to be falling apart because of self-perceived ineptitude, I'm the kind of leader who needs to ensure that my students get second chances and accommodations that they need to succeed. I hope that makes sense.
Oh, yeah - I haven't done one of these in a while -
Educator's Quotation of the Night:
A leader is one who knows the way, goes the way, and shows the way.
- John C. Maxwell
Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.
This week only consisted of three school days, and it felt like one of the longest weeks of my life. But I want to stick my initial plan, and I don't want to be too specific, so I'm mostly going to talk a bit about a little something called leadership. Don't worried; there's a point.
I realize now, as I write this introspection, that I never told the story of one major screw-up I made while working in AmeriCorps from 2012-2013. While a member of the BAYAC/OCASA branch of the organization, I worked as an afters chool program leader, running a literacy program called GirlSMART for twelve second-grade girls who were still struggling to speak, read, and write English. Needless to say, I was not exactly stellar at working with very young students. I've always done better with older kids, especially teenagers, and classroom management was definitely not my forte (and I still have much to work on regarding that even now, especially as a young teacher). I raised my voice a lot during that class, and it wound up scaring one student so much that she actually begged to be taken out of the program so she wouldn't have to deal with me.
When I was informed of this, I was absolutely devastated. In my struggles to be a friendly yet effective instructor, I had terrified a seven-year-old girl and pushed her away from what she saw as a scary environment for her. I remember sitting in front of my campus supervisor, almost drowning in my own tears, verbally shaming myself for being so irresponsible and clumsy regarding my teaching. And I distinctly recall saying, as I managed to get my voice back, that maybe I should just give up. "Maybe," I said, "I'm just not meant to do this."
Now, as someone currently in a leadership position, I most likely would have approached this in an empathetic way. To work with someone who has had a bad experience, who has become frustrated with the situation and feels as if they have no choice but to walk away, means that you have to put yourself in their shoes. You have to figure out how to accommodate for them while also reiterating what is necessary to be successful in their job. Never once have I imagined refusing to reach out a hand to someone dealing with any sort of anxiety and self-doubt; instead, I have always sought to comfort, restructure, and reengage. And in many situations, it's worked out for everyone.
My supervisor didn't do any of those things. Instead, she said to me, with almost no emotion in her voice: "Maybe you're right. Maybe this really isn't something you could do."
Now, granted, she did try to salvage this comment by claiming that I could do better with older students (though she specifically mentioned working "in a college," her words). But by that point, I knew the damage was already done. Rather than seeing my moment of anguish and panic be treated as an opportunity for growth and development, I witnessed my behavior being used against me. From that point on, I firmly believe that my supervisor lost all confidence in my ability to push the envelope and branch out in my teaching - not that being a glorified instructional aide gives you that much space to grow, anyway, but still. She saw my desire to give up, and she figured that she may as well let me.
That incident seriously stunted my progress as an educator, and it's one of the many reasons why I took longer than expected on both starting and finishing my teaching credential. My self-esteem has never exactly been that stable: I'm constantly second-guessing myself, I'm incredibly self-deprecating, and I can be over the top when it comes to how aware I am of the mistakes I make. I overcompensate for every tiny faux pas because in my head, I believe that they might be a lot worse than they actually are. I'm certainly not saying that this supervisor is the sole reason why I struggle sometimes with my confidence as a teacher and a leader, but it definitely didn't help.
Leadership means a lot of things. It means drive, flexibility, and self-sacrifice. It means accountability, as well as developing interpersonal and communication skills. It means going above and beyond what is expected of you so that others who work under you can aspire to be like you in the future. But one crucial element of leadership is usually left out, especially in a cutthroat business environment: Compassion. The ability to understand people's actions and feelings, and to work with said actions and feelings to improve one's work ethic and attitude, is much more difficult to attain and master than certain leaders might think. Some managers and bosses may never have to learn compassion. I think what I'm doing right now is an exception to that no-compassion rule.
So what I'm saying is that right now, my students in leadership positions need to grow into that compassionate leader necessary to operate a team like the one we presently have. Sure, we have a lot to do, and we can't let drama slow us down. But being someone who has anxiety issues, who frequently suffers from panic attacks and moments of despair in which everything seems to be falling apart because of self-perceived ineptitude, I'm the kind of leader who needs to ensure that my students get second chances and accommodations that they need to succeed. I hope that makes sense.
Oh, yeah - I haven't done one of these in a while -
Educator's Quotation of the Night:
A leader is one who knows the way, goes the way, and shows the way.
- John C. Maxwell
Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.
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