Regression Mindset
The title of this blog is “Growth Mindset,” but the topic I’ve chosen for this post might be better characterized as “regression mindset.”
One of the unexpected reasons I enjoy coaching is the chance to revisit my own high school years. Putting myself into the frame of mind of a teenager is similar to what I enjoy doing onstage in community theater: it’s an exercise in inhabiting someone else’s life—in this case my own, circa 1972.
Like many of my fellow coaches, I was among that subset of students who truly enjoyed any class that was led by a teacher who inspired me to think critically and to give my best effort.
Not every teacher or class was like that, though. Then, as now, internal motivation was much more important to me than external motivation. That’s the polite way of saying what many of my teachers from 3rd grade on said, variations on “Russell could accomplish much more if he only applied himself.”
Well, I applied myself to my assignments, but only to the degree that I found them interesting and rewarding, not on the importance assigned by a teacher. This trait led to some frustration on the part of my parents as well as my teachers, as too often I let assignments languish until the last moment (or beyond), instead focusing on whatever shiny object caught the attention of my not-yet-fully-developed pre-frontal cortex.
Thankfully, coaching is now the “shiny object” for me. When I sign up for a coaching session, I read the rubric and try to understand the assignment not only in terms of what the teacher is looking for, but also in terms of what might make it interesting and motivating to a student like my former self. I try to imagine what hasn’t changed for teenagers in the intervening 53 years, and I make myself a few notes to use when I’m coaching.
In the AP English classes most of the kids have that internal motivation, and have already hit the “challenge accepted” button, showing up with a decent first draft on which we can work together. In other classes, however, I often have to sit down with someone who’s clearly not interested or prepared, and the challenge is then directed at me.
Having made some notes or developed some ideas in advance is the difference between floundering around for 15 minutes or just, perhaps, sparking some interest. I also pay attention during that short “Hi, how’s it going” conversation as we begin, when I ask about what they do for fun, what’s important to them, and can sometimes tie that to the assignment to make it more meaningful to them. I cringe to recall the time that I, as a competitive swimmer, used that sport when I had to provide examples of every kind of literary device, from simile to synecdoche, but it turned a potentially boring exercise into a fun puzzle to solve and, while I don’t remember what kind of grade I received for it, at least I turned it in on time.
Chatting with the kids and reading their work opens a window on their world that would otherwise be closed to me, and a chance to relate their outlook to my own of yore (an expression that would date me to the late 19th century). It’s fun, it helps me to build empathy with the students, and I hope that it informs my coaching. If I leave the building feeling like it’s 1972 and I want to take my girlfriend out for a milkshake, that’s just a bonus!