We had been instructed to get into small groups of four to work on our first assignment of this new course and I had spent the evening getting prepared: reading what had been assigned and then some, taking copious notes, reflecting, doing the tasks. I come in, sit at my table, greet my colleagues and I immediately find out that I was on the wrong course (an outdated one). Panic! Frustration! Anger! I sort it out with the teacher and notice my frustration and anger still there, bubbling. It is going to be a while … .
As we start the first task, reflecting on school visits two days before, I share with my group my discomfort at seeing educational programs that have no set structures, where teachers are coaches and students get to make their own schedules for the day and grade themselves. I say: “I am more of a structure kind of person.”
Withoug skipping a beat, my classmate to the left goes: “Of course!”
Earlier panic was nothing compared to this one. All the buttons are pushed now and my shame and impostor syndrome raise their voices together in a chorus of “I told you so!” and “Run!” I gather my courage and ask: “What do you mean?”
My classmate smiles, a bit taken aback by my question, and lists what she observed about me in the past couple of days. Another one in the group nods and smiles. What they describe clearly fits the profile of a rigid, teacher’s pet, desperate to make sure she ticks all the boxes. I don’t think I was able to hear anything said at the table for a full fifteen minutes, as I was trying to calm down the anxiety inducing chorus in my head, while keeping a peaceful smile on my face and making it seem like I was really taking in the conversation.
A student again after many years, more than I care to remember, my brain is pulling open the files in the “being a student” drawer. She very quickly found all the instructions (they were alphabetically organized, of course!): read everything, twice if possible, take copious notes, memorize, be ready to regurgitate everything to the letter when asked by teacher. Do not embarass yourself by not knowing. All good, I know how to do that, I was a good student. Everyone else’s reason to roll their eyes and make fun, yes, but a good student. Feelings of peace and tranquility fill my body and I am ready to go.
Class instructions start: decide on your own learning, work collaboratively, decide on when to go deep and when to skim the surface. What?? This isn’t the script! So how will I know that I am doing the right thing? So, how will I … . Questions die in my throat as I realize that the biggest barrier for me at this point in my future education is … my past education.
Between the age of 3 and 24 I was trained to sit down, face the teacher, listen, read, memorize, repeat. I learned that you do not question the one in front of you, for they are all knowing, that mistakes mean shame and danger, that we are all in a competition because there is only so much pie and we don’t all get a piece of it – we have to grab at it. Looking back I realize with a gulp just how much of that I used (and to a great degree still turn to) even in my work. And it is at this precise moment that I understand that the greatest asset that I can walk away with from this new learning experience is in fact unlearning everything I have been taught so far about education. Success, at the end of two years, will look like understanding and feel like belief that there is in fact pie for everyone, that it is ok sometimes to not want any or want cake and that mistakes are in fact our best friends during this journey of transformation.
As Dr. Brene Brown (who else?) was saying: if you are not uncomfortable, you are not learning.
Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash
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