Entry # 16: "I am ashamed,
but I am not ready to fail."

"There is no such thing as failure unless you stop trying." -- Dr. Wayne Dyer

As I was working this afternoon, I turned on PBS for some background noise. PBS was having another fundraising telethon, and the guest was Dr. Wayne Dyer, a counseling psychotherapist who grew up in foster homes and orphanages. At first I dismissed him as another one of those touchy-feely new age motivational speakers who tells everyone just to feel good about themselves and everything else will fall into line.

Not so.

As I was busily working away, he began to talk about the myth of failure. He gave the example of Thomas Edison who had repeatedly "failed" to create a working light bulb. When he was asked about how he felt about those failures, he said those were not failures but lessons on how NOT to build a light bulb.

I have heard that story before, but it did not click until today. I have a tee shirt on today with the logo A.C.C.L. (All Children Can Learn) and a quote on the back: "Remember...no matter what race, gender or ability, all children, if given the opportunity, support & encouragement, can learn & succeed."

It is a warm and fuzzy statement of what I believe, but do our beliefs always transfer into practice?

Do we really think they can learn?

If you presented Dr. Dyer's quote and my tee shirt to teachers, I would bet that most of them would nod in agreement and make fervent statements about how right that was. However, I would also bet that if we went into these same teachers' classrooms, we would find subtle evidence of the opposite.

I am not excusing myself from these accusations. I think my conscious actions do reflect my belief that all children can succeed in my classroom. However, I know sometimes my unconscious and inbred reactions denote an entirely different belief system. When I listen to my "enlightened" colleagues at school or on the listservs I belong to, I notice these same unconscious behaviors in their practice, and I know they are unaware of it as well.

Just this week I was having a conversation with another teacher about a child on our team. He is a very low reader, and his behavior is consistently challenging and disruptive in every class he attends. To my dismay, I heard myself saying, "He just can not do the work; that is why he is acting up."

Do you see what I did? First of all, I blamed Darren for his inadequacies. Second, I made the statement that I did not believe he could succeed in my classroom. Third of all, I abdicated the child of any responsibility for his behavior. I am really ashamed of myself.

How many times do we as educators shun our responsibilities in our classrooms? We talk about differentiation of instruction, Gardener's multiple intelligences, and doing whatever it takes to help our children succeed, but do we always do it? The truth is, probably not.

Many times I have looked at Darren as a hangnail on an otherwise meticulously manicured hand. In that class, he is the only one who has not fallen into line. He fights my attempts to work with him one-on-one, turning it into yet another power struggle or opportunity to be the jokester. I do not like his behavior, and that has transferred into a dislike for Darren in general. I do not even want to try.

I have been looking for excuses to stop trying, and I clung to the idea that he was improperly placed. The assistant principal and the rest of the team want to refer him for special education services. I was in agreement until I sat down to write this.

I appear to have given up

Perhaps Darren does need to evaluated, but how can I make a clear judgement when so many other emotions and judgments might be clouding the issue? I have let my irritation with Darren's refusal to fall in line with my "usual" strategies hinder any chance he has to succeed in my classroom. My posture, my interactions, my tone of voice, my tenuous support all translate into a belief that he will not succeed in my classroom. Why? Because I appear to have given up.

If I do not effectively convey my belief that Darren can truly succeed in my classroom, how can he believe he can succeed? I am the adult, and regardless of what any child thinks of the adults in his life, the adults are the ones who seem to have all the answers. The adults are always right to a child, regardless of how the child reacts to them.

If Darren is a child who has repeatedly experienced failure and my actions tell him that he is, indeed, a failure, how can I expect him to try to make a change?

I do not want to be the kind of teacher who creates a subtle message through her actions that most but not all students can succeed. So how do I stop sending these messages that conflict with my conscious words and actions? By carefully examining those situations in my classroom that trouble me most and making conscious decisions and plans to address those situations. Most of all, I think I need to continue to be honest with myself about my shortcomings as well as my strengths.

I do not know what I will do with Darren. Perhaps I will sit down with him on Monday and tell him I have wronged him. Maybe I will tell him that I do not know how to help him yet, but that maybe we can find a way to help him succeed together. Maybe he will be open to my help, and maybe he won't. If he isn't, then I guess I will have to try to help him in as many different ways and as often as is necessary to convince him I am sincere.

As Dr. Dyer said, "There is no such thing as failure unless you stop trying." I am not ready to fail.

[Note: Ellen wrote a follow-up entry about Darren several months later.]
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