Trustworthiness
is an important foundation for coaching work. Our words, actions, and motives
create safety and focus.* Let’s drill
down to consider how to build credibility though truthfulness and
vulnerability.
I
used to think that to be a credible coach I had to always exude confidence and
capability. Having studied literacy
since I was a freshman in college (earlier if you count teaching my little brother
to read!), I felt I had the know-how to create confidence in my ability. I had
advanced degrees and experience and was up-to-date on my professional reading.
All that mattered, but guess what? Recognizing and acknowledging my own
weaknesses added a new dimension to my credibility. It also took a big weight
off my shoulders.
I’ve
found that sharing a story or two about personal failures and opening myself
for observation not only models my own growth path, it opens others to pursue
theirs.
I
often share the story of the time I modeled a lesson in my daughter’s classroom
during her first year of teaching. In September, as the school year was just getting
underway, I got a tearful, frustrated phone call during her recess break. We
decided that having me model a lesson might be helpful, so I put on my
super-cape and drove 700 miles to visit her classroom. Mom to the rescue! I
felt pretty good about the vocabulary lesson I taught, especially considering
that it was early in the school year and she had several students with special
needs in her classroom.
Recess
was right after my modeled lesson, and my daughter had recess duty, so we
walked together out to the playground. Sara broke the silence with a quizzical
look and asked, “Mom, you won awards for your teaching, right?” From the tenor
of her voice, I knew the implications behind her question: You won awards, but
your teaching’s not perfect; the students weren’t perfect; maybe I don’t have
to be perfect!” Modeling gave my daughter new strategies to try, but more
importantly, it let her know that perfection is not required or possible! She
set more realistic expectations for herself and her students and everybody
learned more.
Social
worker Brené Brown tells us that connection is a result of authenticity. By
letting go of who we think we should be, we can more fully be who we are – a
necessity for connection. Being vulnerable – having a “Share your stuff – I’ll
go first” attitude, opens the door for others to be vulnerable, and that is a
necessary step for growth and change. Let’s let ourselves be seen. Whether it’s
modeling in a teacher’s classroom or talking about a time when a lesson went
horribly wrong, opening ourselves as the imperfect people we necessarily are
bolsters connection, trust, and instructional improvement. Plus I’ve found that
lifting the weight of perfectionism is incredibly freeing and makes walking
through life more joyful.
Circles
within circles…That’s what I was envisioning as I prepared for a debrief
conversation with Leslie. There were some specific things I hoped to talk about
(directions and procedures), but I didn’t want to jump right to those topics. I
wanted to provide a comfortable context before digging in. So I thought about
nested circles.
It
was a Thursday, so I began by asking how the week was going, establishing a
broad context – painting a big outer circle for our conversation. The week was
going better than expected, Leslie said. After three snow days with remote
learning last week, she had anticipated that classroom routines might be off,
but students, for the most part, came back ready to learn. That positive start
gave our conversation solid footing.
Next,
I asked about the day. What was something she wanted to celebrate? I added a
caveat – I wanted to hear about something I hadn’t observed, so we weren’t
zeroing in yet. Leslie gave some highlights of a math lesson that she felt went
well.
Now
that we were well-grounded in positive aspects of the day and week, it felt comfortable
to ask the rather pointed question I’d prepared about the lesson I’d observed. After
she and I both commented about a few of the positive aspects of the lesson, we
were ready to drill down to an area ripe for growth. So I glanced at the
question I’d rehearsed in advance and said, “As you reflect on the transitions
before and during the lesson, what tweaks might you have made – now that you’ve
seen how it all played out?”
Leslie
told me how she’d been reflecting on the need to give more of the directions
while her first-grade students were still seated on the carpet together. I
agreed, telling her I’d noticed that she ended up repeating some instructions
as she moved from student to student after they began working, so giving those
directions while they were all attentive could have been more efficient.
When
I asked, “Anything else? Do you have other ideas for smoothing out transitions?”
Leslie came up dry. Because I felt that retrieval of materials had caused some confusion
and delayed students’ ability to get started on the project, I retraced the
time students spent with this task. “It seemed like during that delay in
getting started, some students forgot their task,” I said, so having smoother choreography
for getting the needed materials could give them a stronger start for their
project, too. Communicating instructions and choreographing retrieval of
supplies impacted each other and the work students did.
Our
brief conversation had ranged over many ideas, so I wanted to make sure we got
specific before concluding. I gave Leslie a 3X5 card and asked, “Of all the
ideas we’ve talked about, what’s something you want to hold on to?” Leslie jotted
a thought on the card that she could put on her desk as a reminder. She read it
aloud to me, and I made a note so I could ask her about it next time we met. Giving
complete instructions before students moved was, for Leslie, the core of our
conversation.
Started
broad and open laid a safe foundation for what ended up being a very specific
conversation. The circles-within-circles image kept me patient as we narrowed
our way to a topic that I wanted to be sure we considered together.
