Humble Pie

Okay, so maybe it is not as extreme as eating humble pie (which according to definitions is extreme humiliation), but the phrase is fitting as pie--like any other food--offers our bodies calories to use to perform. My journey as a teacher--especially as a high school teacher--continually offers up slices of humble pie. Just when I think I am finally "getting it," along comes a book, or blog posting, or twitter post, or Facebook link to show me just how little I actually know. As I work on planning for the next school year I think to myself, "Oh, that was a good lesson (or unit) that I taught." And then there's Jeff Wilhelm or Kelly Gallagher or Carol Jago or Tom Newkirk or Penny Kittle or many others to remind me that I was kind of fooling myself. And then, I have to hit the books (some of them for a third time) to try to make sense of what I did in order to figure out what I need to do next to improve. There are some outside of education that proclaim that teaching is instinct, that anyone could do it, that knowing your subject is all that matters, and maybe for a rare few teachers that is true. Poof! Lessons work magically and students shine brightly. Or, maybe that is just what they tell themselves . . . What most outside of education do not understand is how being a reflective teacher--and I stress that word--is tough and can beat you down. If. You. Pay. Attention. We want our students to do the work of learning, and we have to do it with them. Even when it hurts. This kind of pain is good. It means that we recognize something lacking. However, by feeling it we can address it. We can make it better. Humble pie doesn't taste so good, but it is nourishing and gives the nutrients and sustenance we need to keep moving and growing.