More Than Words: What a Return to School Is Teaching Me About Work
Lessons from the classroom on growth, motivation and getting the best out of people
In the practice of the Irish Catholic tradition whence I came, let’s start with a confession: I was a very bad Irish student at school. I daydreamed in class and cheated during tests by writing the irregular verbs on a slip of paper and slipping it under the plastic of my Bic (which was very successful by the way).
When I somehow stumbled into a B in my final exam, nobody was more surprised than I was. I bid a self-satisfied goodbye to the language and got on with my perfectly fine Irish-free life.
18 years of globe-wandering later and I found myself signing up for online Irish lessons live-streamed from my hometown. Maybe it was the pandemic working on me. Maybe delayed homesickness. Maybe the increased attention the language was getting in the ever-growing culture war over its place in Northern Irish society. Whatever it was, the compulsion to sign up was strong, as though I’d dropped a little piece of myself somewhere along the road and turned back to fetch it.
Learning is still slow-going. I’m as cloth-eared to the cadences of Irish now as I was in high school. But the environment has changed, so have I, and I’m learning more than ever before; some of it even about Irish.
The teacher sets the tone for the class
Let’s start with the obvious. If you have an amped up Joe Wicks type who comes into the class high-kicking and air-punching, the likelihood is you’re in for high octane stuff. A laconic instructor who glares through their webcam over their wire-frame glasses will inspire a more sober mood.
The teacher — who they are, what they value, their methodology — establishes an implicit contract of conduct, not only from teacher to student, but from student to student.
If a student is struggling with a particular concept and the teacher responds patiently, working through the block attentively, then three things happen:
- The student learns i.e. the point of the class
- The other students are encouraged to give space and time to the problem too
- The others students are less likely to feel ashamed if they become stuck
The rules of engagement come from the top.
People excel when they feel safe
Shame is a horrible driver. In the short term, it may work, but in the long term it’s about as sustainable as setting fire to your coat to warm yourself up. From the master on the topic, Brene Brown:
“Shame corrodes the very part of us that believes we are capable of change.”
Is shame, then, the kind of phantom you want in the room when people are trying to grow? I don’t think so. In a culture of shame, a rare few may exceed but a net loss is incurred as others are demoralised and blocked.
When people feel safe, they try. When people feel supported, they take risks. When people feel valued, they show you their value.
Vulnerability is the crucible of change, and therefore, of growth.
Pushing people and kindness are not mutually exclusive
A typical situation in my class is this: we are shown a portion of text with a mix of what we’ve learned so far and totally new material. Heart racing, my eye scans the passage for the unknowns while my ears keenly listen for my name to be called. There are words I don’t recognise. There are combinations of letters I can’t even begin to pronounce.
“Maggie, can you read the first paragraph, please?”
Damnit.
As discussed in the first points, confident that my classmates won’t despair at my reading of the passage, I begin to pick my way through. When I reach a road block, other students are invited to help me out; one reason why mixed competency groups are so effective.
In the end, I get there, maybe sweating and out of breath, but I get there. And I’m emboldened, because, Hey! I did it.
Each lesson, our teacher sets us on an uphill path. There is no short cut and there is absolutely no escaping his eagle eye, even on Zoom. But what there is is kindness, which engenders trust, which engenders risk, which engenders learning.
Great leaps forward happen when mistakes are encouraged.
Craic is a great motivator
First, a brief definition of “craic” for the uninitiated. Commonly misunderstood to be a word of Irish origin, craic generally means good fun or gossip, and forms a huge part of interpersonal culture in Ireland nonetheless. If someone is good craic, they are fun. If someone has good craic, they have a juicy bit of news. If someone is minus craic, walk away immediately because they are likely to be boring or otherwise terrible.
My teacher is great craic. He is irreverent and sweet and surprising and one of those terrifyingly quick-witted people whose brains seem always forty steps ahead. The environment he creates is not only light and comfortable, it’s fun. And you know what fun means? Focus.
This isn’t a demand for every teacher to be a local Robin Williams, but rather for all of us to leave the door open for some joy to get in.
A belief I will cling to until the day my spirit leaves my body: You don’t need to be a serious person to do serious work. I’m just going to say that again:
You don’t need to be a serious person to do serious work.
Performative maturity shuts off authentic avenues of expression in favour of a mirage of marketable adulthood. Irish writer and musician, Blindboy does a great job of dissecting this in a recent podcast episode. True emotional maturity allows space for every personality at the table, and therefore, the kind of boldness and transparency that management consultancies get paid billions to synthesise.
Play is important; the magic ingredient that makes the end of each lesson come as a surprise. Is it that time already?
The takeaways?
Start training for a marathon and your cardio will improve, but so too will your discipline and focus. In any pursuit, there is seldom just one isolated gain. Returning to class has allowed me to connect with a largely unexplored part of my culture, but it also illustrates that growth happens with a bit of light and air.
Will I be getting my fluent speaker pin, the gold Fáinne, any time soon? Probably not, but because of my teacher, the environment, and my new relationship with the topic, it’s on my radar for the first time. This is finally, thrillingly possible with a little muscle. And isn’t that what good work is all about?
