Hello, My Name is _______________: Lisa

We are currently introducing ourselves via narrative writing inspired by a 1999 Ann Landers column. For more information, visit this post: Hello, My Name is _______________.

Who is this literacy coach who made herself at home in my office? I have no idea who she is, or when she arrived here, but I know this: I did not invite her. I want to be mad that she has taken over my space, especially because we are so different, but the truth of the matter is that I like her; she’s everything I am not.

She is bold—surprisingly bold. Her appearance, that I catch reflections of in my window, would not suggest she’s courageous, but sometimes I cannot believe the things that come out of her mouth! Since I have been getting to know this stranger, I can say that I think this boldness is a disguise for passion: passion about her work, passion about student learning, passion about professional development for teachers, passionate about literacy and it’s crucial place in our ever-changing world. I suppose, at times, bold thinking is needed to make necessary changes.

I wouldn’t dream of raising my voice at a meeting or shaking my head when I disagreed with a colleague. I’d listen and wear my stoic pants. I’d reveal my true feelings to Tracy when we talked after school, but I wouldn’t dream of publically disagreeing with anyone, and I certainly wouldn’t be taking an opposing view from my boss! This new coach, however, she seems to think she can advocate for kids and teachers in a daring way, because she has “right” on her side. She’s fascinating, but I do worry for her.

The new coach exudes such confidence. I want to believe she is capable of everything she envisions. She seems to operate in a way where I want to be on her side, to ride her train because I think I will be led to a land where the complications of teaching children to be literate fade away. She’s common sense. She speaks with authority, is articulate, and always thinking about how to develop teachers and leaders.

I wonder where she gets that confidence. She went through the same Masters’ program I did, she has had the same teaching experiences I have had, the same coaching experiences, so why is she so confident when I’m scared to go to my meeting with the 8^th grade teacher who I am going to need to tell that he must quit teaching Shakespeare?

Speaking of courageous conversations…this new coach is something else! I overheard her telling another literacy coach what she needed to improve upon. The nerve! I think someone has crossed a line. Although, as I ponder on my eavesdropping, it was the coach who asked the new coach for feedback. The coach told the new coach that she trusted her and that if she had any feedback to offer, she’d accept it. How did that happen? How did this new coach get another coach to ask for her HONEST feedback? How did she establish that kind of trust? How can it be emulated? I wonder if that was just a happy accident, or if this is a regular occurrence.

I would never be able to tell someone else how to do their job, especially my friends, people I’ve worked with for years. It seems so rude, even inappropriate, but she spoke in such a thoughtful, kind, respectful manner that the coach didn’t even seem upset. The coach took notes on what was said, the coach asked questions to the new gal, the coach thanked her for her honesty. They looked like a team, two peers having an important, critical conversation. They had a difficult conversation and parted friends, smiling and laughing…

That has never happened to me. I don’t want to risk any relationship by having the tough, honest conversation. I avoid those altogether. I can see how an honest conversation can take place without hurt feelings, having viewing this coaching session, but I’m not ready yet. Someday…maybe.

I’ve seen her in action, this new coach, leading a group of geometry teachers through the process of narrowing their vocabulary scrolls. She doesn’t know anything about geometry—trust me on this. And yet, she sits with this group of teachers, leading a process, where she cannot predict the outcome, nor the challenges that will come her way, yet she appears calm. No shaky hands, no nervous stumbling over words…

I can only hope to feel that calm when I am standing in front of my peers. When I’m in that situation, my left eye starts to twitch weeks before the presentation, I can’t sleep the night before, my stomach flips the day of, and I am generally a hot mess! Sweaty, fidgety, and continually tongue-tied when leading the professional development. I am lost in thoughts over what people think of me. Believe it or not, that is how I feel when things go well. When someone challenges me, I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, 50,000 thoughts run through my head, my chests pounds in my ears, I stammer out an answer, hoping to say the right thing—rarely, if ever responding intelligently. The worst part about this scenario is not that it happened, but that I replay that moment over and over, taking the question or comment personally, formulating a better response now that I am out of the spotlight, feeling angry about what I cannot change.

This new coach told me that she doesn’t take things personally. When people challenge her, she feels fine with a moment of silence, thinking about whether or not to respond; she feels no pressure or obligation to answer on the spot. She has learned to table the challenges she cannot, or isn’t ready to, address in the moment. She doesn’t go home and stew about what went wrong; she told me she reflects on what went well and not so well, and then thinks about how to problem-solve what went wrong. She believes that there may be a way to rework the problem when she has time to think without 20 sets of eyes on her. She assumes positive presupposition—people are asking or challenging simply because they do not understand; it’s about meaning-making, not embarrassing her. And…get this, she doesn’t worry about what people think of her because she knows she’s advocating for kids to be taught in meaningful ways—she has research, and an incredibly intelligent network of colleagues, on her side.

We’ve all been there. We’ve been told that we will need to share our space. I wasn’t overjoyed when this new literacy coach moved into my little corner of the world, but I can see I have a lot to learn from her. I hope I can reciprocate, after all, I provided plenty of mistakes for her to learn from over the years.

Biography

I joke that I cannot hold a job. In my 18 years in education I have had many opportunities. I’ve been a second grade teacher, a middle school teacher, an elementary reading specialist/Title I teacher, a middle school literacy coach, and a high school literacy coach. It’s been a fascinating journey—one in which, at some point I remember saying to myself, you need to settle into one role. All this moving is crazy! It’s good crazy because I learned a lot moving to new buildings and levels, but crazy none-the-less. Looking back, the journey seems to be a bit of a happy accident. All of these experiences were critical in preparing me for my current role, but I was unaware of the endpoint as I worked my way through the system. I am currently a K-12 literacy coordinator. In addition to my day job, I co-direct the Fox Valley Writing Project, providing professional development for teachers in the area. The work of the Project is much like coaching: it is exhausting and simultaneously energizing! I credit the FVWP for the development of my professional life--bursting with gratitude over all of the opportunities and learning National Writing Project has offered me. I am a National Board Certified Teacher in the area of reading: three year olds to adolescence. I credit the FVWP and UWO Reading Department for providing me with the knowledge, insights, and self-reflection abilities that the Boards require. This was an interesting endeavor, and one that I am glad I pursued. It was not a collaborative for me like it is for some people, but rather introspective and reflective. It required a very different type of writing than I prefer, but it was a good challenge at the time. Speaking of writing…I want to be a writer when I grow up. I’m a magnet for odd occurrences so I have a few memoirs in me. If only I had the time to write them… Who knows? Perhaps one day, I can add that to my list of credentials. A girl can dream.