The summer before I began my new role as a math coach, I bought numerous books on coaching and read countless articles and blog posts on best practices. I collaborated with the reading coach (also my best friend) on ways we could inspire teachers and share new ideas with them. I was excited to get to work with thirty teachers and share my passion for math.
However, as any instructional coach will tell you, the position is not at all what you imagined. I thought every teacher put in 10-12 hour days like I did. I assumed all teachers loved math as much as I do. I imagined teachers coming to me with struggles and being able to help guide them to a solution. I thought I would spend half my time in classrooms co-teaching, modeling, working with students, or observing and the other half having conversations about those visits.
Wrong, wrong, and wrong again.
I quickly became frustrated with my new role. I was angry at teachers who didn’t want my help. I was quick to judge them for not wanting my help. Why didn’t they want to add to their teacher toolbox in order to help more students? I felt useless at least once a week. Am I truly helping any teachers? Or worse, am I helping any students? I often wondered if I was wasting my passion for math by NOT being in the classroom. I went back to the books and articles searching for answers. When I thought I had found them, I tried again, only to once again be knocked down. Only a few months into coaching I had major impostor syndrome. I didn’t feel worthy of being a coach. At the end of the school year, I asked to move back into the classroom so I could continue hiding behind four walls where I thought I could make the most impact. I was defeated.
Toward the end of my first year coaching I began an action research project for my master’s degree at UCF. My topic was ‘why veteran teachers are resistant to change’. I met with my mentor, Dr. Brooks and discussing my ideas for research and how to go about it. I remember her looking at me after I had rambled on for too long and asking, “Why do you think veteran teachers are resistant to change?” I continued to describe my experience as a coach and how veteran teachers at my school were set in their ways, didn’t want to learn new strategies, and were at times even rude to me for suggesting other methods. Dr. Brooks kept me in check though and challenged my ideas. She asked me to dive into the research and see if I could find proof of this outside of my experiences. I thought it would be easy, but the research proved me wrong.
Is there research which supports the notion veteran teachers don’t want to change? Yes. But there is so much more to the story. There are so many reasons teachers don’t want to work with coaches or give their instructional practice an overhaul or invite you into their classroom. I was viewing teachers on a surface level and from my perspective instead of theirs. Dr. Brooks called me out and it changed my action research topic, but most importantly it changed who I was as an educator and a coach.
It felt like I had lost the game of coaching and I’m a horrible loser, so I decided to give coaching another go at a new school. This time, however, I had a new perspective. My first and most important task was to build relationships with teachers. I needed to understand their beliefs, their experience, their goals, and to an extent their personal lives. We’re not just teachers, we’re also husbands, wives, parents, friends who have lives outside of the school building that shapes who we are. Only once I had established these could I even attempt to be a coach.
So, I did the opposite of what I did my first year coaching. Instead of preaching, I listened to understand. Instead of offering suggestions right away, I waited for teachers to ask. Instead of assuming teachers didn’t care or weren’t passionate, I put myself in their shoes. Only after around month four or five did I start to see a difference. Teachers began to ask for help or make suggestions. Teachers began to open the door just a crack so I could peek in. It took that long for teachers to begin to trust I had both theirs and their students best intentions in mind.
If you’ve ever seen the movie or read the book, Atonement, I feel just like Briony. I messed up, but I realized it too late and now have to find a way to atone for my past mistakes.To all of the teachers and administrators I worked with that first year coaching, I offer my sincerest apologies. I was wrong and I didn’t do you justice as your coach. You deserved more than what I gave you. Even though I had the best intentions and did want the best for you and your kids, I don’t believe that’s what you received and I’m sorry.
To all the coaches out there, coaching can be hard (not as hard as teaching though–don’t let yourself forget how hard teaching is). Below are the most important lessons I learned in the past few years. I hope they help you shape your role as a coach.
1. Meet teachers where they’re at. Every teacher needs a different type of support, but don’t assume you think you know what a teacher needs. Have conversations with teachers to understand fully their position and to determine together what support you can offer.
2. Listen with an open mind and without judgement. Teachers are hard enough on themselves, we don’t need to add to it.
3. Show don’t tell. Don’t tell teachers you’re on their side, prove it to them. Show them they can trust you and don’t break it. Once you do, you’ve probably lost it for good.
4. Most importantly: believe in every teacher. This includes not talking about teachers negatively when they’re not present. Talking ill of anyone behind their back helps absolutely nobody, spreads negativity, and creates a toxic work environment. In my experience, this can be hard for some people. Lead by example. Never say anything about a teacher you wouldn’t want them overhearing. Be positive and optimistic about every teacher you work with regardless of their experience, attitudes, beliefs, or actions. Just as teachers believe in each of their students, we need to believe in each teacher. For me, this was the hardest lesson I had to learn, but had the greatest impact on my coaching. As a coach, if you don’t believe in every teacher you work with, you’re in the wrong position.
