Learn, Good Soul
This has been a difficult and amazing
couple of weeks. I went from
a small audience of teachers, parents, and writers to a larger audience of the same, and
while I'm happy about most of the thoughtful rebuttals I've received, some have cut deep. The pieces I compose late at
night, after my kids are asleep, are precious to me. But I asked for it, and I
have received. I dreamed of a dual career as teacher and writer, and here it
is, spread out before me.
That said, I was not prepared for the HUGE number of responses to the
article I posted last week at The
Atlantic that are based on either a topical reading of the title, or
a surface reading of paragraphs one, four, or eight, and nothing in between. While I generally appreciate any responses to my midnight scribblings, many have been downright mean. Not thoughtful, not intelligent, just mean. Conversely, and
interestingly, the most thoughtful rebuttals I've received this week are
from the very smart authors who penned responses to my
article in The Atlantic. Susan
Cain and Katherine
Schultz are class acts. Seriously. Amazing women and thinkers. Women
who reach out rather than strike out. Writers who understand the difference
between clear-eyed response and blind retaliation. Writers who understand that
words have weight, no matter how many of them float out there, unedited and
misdirected, in the ether of the internet.
I love thoughtful argument; I even teach it.
The Roman's word for 'argument' does not derive from anger or dissent, it
signifies persuasion and open debate. That,
I respect. That's the definition of argument I teach my
students. Extroverts and introverts alike.
I truly believe in my position regarding class participation and
teaching self-advocacy, and Susan Cain and Katherine Schultz truly believe in
theirs. And yet - shocker - they are open to discussion where so
many of their devotees are not. So many want to hurl insults while the women
who lead the charge of the introverts/shy/social anxiety audience are the most
open to dialogue.
I am a teacher. I love what I do, and when I write, it is to open
dialogue. I write to learn. I write to become a better teacher. I've read every
comment to every post I've ever published, and I take most of them to heart.
Some - the mean ones - I try to brush off, but even that is hard. A few of my
nearest and dearest know I've shed tears over the most vitriolic comments and
blog posts, and I've even lost sleep over the ones that have accused me of not
respecting and my students with everything I am.
I've had great writing mentors who have instructed me not to read
comments at all, to have someone I trust read and give percentages regarding
positive and negative opinions, but as a teacher, I feel obligated to learn
from what I write. I tell my students to be open to criticism, and therefore, I
model the same.
This week, I have a new article coming that will open new
discussions, because that's why I do what I do. I write about the art of
teaching and what makes for a good teacher. I have my dream job, and frankly,
it would be much easier for me to keep my mouth shut and teach.
But if we are going to improve what we do, if we are going to
become better educators, we need to talk publicly about our practices and find
ways to learn from others.
And that's why I do what I do. So take your best shot. I'm here,
and I'm listening.