Final Reflection
Collaboration matters because relationships matter. Relationships connect us, ground us and calibrate us. They give meaning and purpose to our work, our play -- our lives. Cliche, I know. But relationships can also be a powerful force for change. Teachers, students and administrators collaborating to find ways to build and support healthy relationships is one of the best things we can do for schools. Why? Because within the safety of a healthy relationship we are more comfortable pushing ourselves and taking risks. And when we take risks because we feel supported, we become our best selves. When we are in a place where successes and failures are celebrated because we can learn from them, we grow. All of us, adults and students.
I learned this lesson first hand through this process, not just in the collaborations I did with my teaching partners and my students, but within the action research project itself.
Initially going into this project, I was energized and a bit naive. I was going to do the most amazing groundbreaking collaborations the world had ever seen! I was going to collaborate with everyone on my wonderful 11th grade team! I mean, how hard could it be?
It was really hard, actually. And frustrating, and discouraging, and ineffective. And annoying for my team, I’m sure. I was too idealistic and a little too enthusiastic without really having a clear plan. And about half way through the first semester, I decided that this project was a mistake. I decided that I needed something easier, something more in my control to work on. Something where I could read a lot of books and articles and then try something within the relative safety of the four walls of my classroom. Collaborating with my colleagues was too messy; I felt too vulnerable; I was taking their reluctance too personally. I wondered if what I was doing mattered. I felt that I had failed and was on the verge on giving up. But through the relationships I’d developed with my advisor and my cohort, I felt supported. And I felt safe enough within that community to keep putting myself out there and challenging myself to learn and grow. I can remember several times when my initial attempts at collaboration fell flat and I was feeling defeated. As I sat in my advisor’s office, fighting back tears, she helped me to see the value in those failures. What could I learn? How could I adjust? “That’s a finding!” she would enthusiastically exclaim. And so, I kept going.
I also learned this lesson through the collaborations I had with my teaching partners. I learned that collegiality and the relationships we have with each other are crucial to effectively collaborating. Building trust through open, honest, and kind communication creates that safe space where we can push ourselves and each other. Valuing each other as dedicated educators, trusting each others’ decisions, and letting go of the content that often gets tied up in our egos opens the doors of creativity and innovation. I remember feeling hurt by the initial reluctance of some on my teaching team to collaborate, but through the relationships we had, and the collegiality we had created, I was able to have honest conversations that helped me to understand their perspectives and to collaborate better.
I can also remember how nervous I was going into the Encryption Project, but how much I trusted Nadine and how I knew we would be able to work our way through any difficulty. And so, I kept going.
Communicating more and better with my students was invaluable, not only to my research, but to my understanding of the student teacher relationship. I had tried to treat my students like adults in so many other ways, except when it came to decision-making. Our relationship was very much an adult-child relationship. I had always thought that I could figure out what they needed on my own, and I think a part of me always figured that if they gave feedback it would be in a way that made their work easier, less “rigorous.” I didn’t want to have to defend or justify my choices to my students to any great degree. With the exit cards, however, I learned to be more responsive and to value my students’ input in a way that I hadn’t before. Doing this project forced me to deal with my students’ reality instead of what I hoped they were experiencing. Sometimes it was good, and sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes their feedback was difficult to hear. But of course to fix any problem, I first had to be aware it even exists. That took a willingness to be vulnerable and hear things I didn’t want to. But I loved being able to support my students more effectively, and I loved being forced to think through what I was doing in class. And then, something would click, and we would work through challenges together and I would see the pride and confidence in their eyes. And so, I kept going.
For a while, in the midst of this project, I lost myself. I hadn’t figured out how to balance who I was as a teacher and what I was passionate about, with whom I wanted to collaborate and what I was willing to give up in the process. I lost sight of what makes me the teacher I am. I had lost sight of, and enthusiasm for, the subject I love. I had let go too much. However, after some reflection (well a lot actually) and understanding that my solo work had great power and value, I was able to have more effective collaborations. I didn’t need to collaborate for collaborations sake. I could, and should, be more thoughtful about when it would make sense and when it wouldn’t.
This was an invaluable and ultimately affirming lesson -- the importance of balance, not just within the walls of the school, but outside of those walls as well. In reflecting about how I needed to create that balance at school, I came to realize that I also needed to balance my work-life and home-life. I realized that in giving so much of myself to my school, I was short-changing my family. Two months before my thesis was due, I had decided to quit the program. I could see that the late nights and long weekends of working were taking their toll. My husband had become the cook, the grocery shopper, the launderer in our house. He had taken off work early to pick up our son. Ours was not a “collaborative” household at that point. I felt it was too much, and unfair to him. As I explained all of this to my husband, he stopped me and told me to press on. That I had come too far and done too much to give up. That what I was doing mattered. And he told me he was proud of me. And so, I kept going.
Looking back now, this is a story about me not giving up, and why. As you can see, there have been many times since I started this project that I’ve had to convince myself to press on. I’ve had to persevere through changes in partnership, through reluctant colleagues, through my own doubts about the value of this work, and through trying to balance the bazillion plates I had spinning at the same time. But I’ve learned that I’m part of a community who won’t let me give up, one that has supported me, encouraged me, and picked me up when I was ready to quit. In so many ways, my experience on this project paralleled that of my students. As they were challenged and stressed, so was I. As they were supported and encouraged, so was I. And as they felt proud of what they had achieved, so am I.
That is the power of collaboration, and I wish it upon every school and every teacher in our country.
With this new understanding, I look forward to many more collaborations and many more opportunities to help create a community of risk-takers, line-blurrers, and boundary-pushers.