Lessons From (English) Camp 2014: Speak Up and Be Quiet

For the last couple of summers, I've put together a somewhat popular series of posts about lessons that transfer well from the basketball camps in which I've coached to life in general (see 2013 posts, 2012 posts, and 2011 posts).

Though I find myself out of coaching this summer, I am not out of camp lessons. This past weekend I attended ICTE's English Camp in Cedar Falls. Though this sounds ultra-geeky to my non-English teaching brethren (and perhaps it is), it was rewarding to gather with a group of teachers from around the state, including several old friends, and share stories and battle strategies. Also, I got to enjoy a beer and a burger over lunch with Jeff Finn, which all good camp experiences should include.

The "Lessons From Camp" series will continue, therefore, beginning with today's lesson: Speak up and Be Quiet.

The camp format allowed us to come in as a large group to begin the day, declare what topics we wanted to discuss throughout the camp, then develop a schedule based on those requests. The instructions were simple: if you want to talk about it, volunteer to lead a session on the topic and facilitate the discussion. Ask, and you shall receive, so to speak. And so we did.

There was much to receive, and a wealth of resources from which we were fed. I don't know if math teachers get charged up bantering about the quadratic formula and the intricacies of pi; but it's clear that if you put some language arts teachers in the same space and ask them to talk about literature and writing, the hours fly by.

Jeff led a session I particularly enjoyed which he succinctly titled "Home-Runs." We got in the room, and he told the group, "Look. I just want to hear one idea from everybody of something that really works for them. Tell me one home run you've hit in your classroom." And so we did. He wanted to hear good ideas, so he asked for them.

In life, it's not a lot more complicated than that. Speak up. Ask. Let people know what you want. Timidity, while perhaps peaceful, is not practical, not if you want something. At some point you've got to stand up, proclaim your desire, and see what happens.

I don't think many of us ask enough of the people in our lives, mostly out of an assumption that we are bothering them in some way. And we're dead wrong about that. Every time I ask a fellow English teacher about what they do, I hear great energy and enthusiasm. When I ask my parents or grandparents about past life experiences, adventures, and obstacles, they smile a little, tell a story, and then smile a lot. The same thing occurs when I ask my friend what he thinks of a Steinbeck novel or his South American travels, or when I ask my wife about her garden or her writing or her new batch of jam.

Ask for ideas, ask for stories, ask for advice. Most people can't wait to tell you. And in the listening you are enriched, whether it be from advice you'll follow, entertainment from a good story, or the joy you share with that individual while you're sharing space and time with them while they share something that matters to them.

After you ask, though, you've got to be disciplined enough to shut up and listen. As much as I was excited to talk about something that had gone well in my classroom during the "Home Run" session or add on to what others were saying by talking about my variation of their idea, I realized that wasn't what I was there for. There would be a time for me to share, but that time should be dwarfed considerably by the time allotted to be quiet.

Too many people ask questions, quietly hoping the answer they get leads them to get to talk about themselves. It doesn't work that way. If you ask and you're in a hurry to talk while listening, you'll probably just end up getting more of yourself in the process. You get enough of that already. You will not walk away better, and you will probably not see the magic of an energized peer crafting a careful response about something they care deeply about.

Speak up and ask questions. How's your baseball team doing? What's your kid learning in school? What cookies do you make? What book are you reading? How do you teach the Great Gatsby? How did you handle a major professional change? Then sit back and soak it in. Learn. Grow. Share.

You'll both be better for it.