Ever since my first son was born 9 ½ years ago, I had a vision for building a treehouse in the tall pine standing in the back corner of our yard. After loading up the van and filling the garage with supplies, I finally began working on it this past weekend. Now that I have three sons, I figured this was the perfect time and the tree, being mature and relatively straight, would make the ideal foundation for the fort.
As with all of the projects I do around the house, my three boys (4, 6, and 9) LOVE to “help” once I bust out the tools. And, truth be told, they are actually getting pretty good. The four year old can drill a killer straight hole, the 9 year old knows how to use the pneumatic nailer without putting a nail through my (or his) finger, and the 6 year old can easily identify whatever tool I am asking for and get it to me quickly. Of course, they also love to take my scraps and build their own stuff, ask if we can play soccer while I am straining to hold up a beam, or turn my cordless drill into a blaster. It is all part of the experience for them. And for me.
This past Saturday was a particularly hot and humid day for working outside. And heat, as well as improperly cut angles due to my horrible math skills, has a tendency to make me crabby. So, when my oldest was derailing my mission with questions about what he wanted the fort to look like and do versus what my budget and skill set would allow, I began to run out of patience. Yes, a two-story house with an observation deck, dumbwaiter, and windows in the roof would be awesome, but let’s be realistic, son. Plus, I also have a thing about ingratitude. Be a little thankful that you have a dad willing to spend his weekends busting his knuckles on a project for you in the first place, and try not to complain about what it is or is not. Hey, I’m only human.
It was in the midst of these very defensive thoughts that it dawned on me: as leaders we often drive ahead towards our mission objectives without asking if those we are leading understand where we are pointed or even stopping to consider if they are interested in going along. I mean, my boys knew I was building a treehouse, and in their minds that was awesome. But, I did not take the time to explain to them exactly what it was going to look like or do. I just expected them to love it and be grateful. Plus, in the midst of my labor, I became too busy (and a little stressed) to pause and show them my vision for the final product. I kept saying, “hey, trust me, I know what I am doing.” But why should they trust me? Shouldn’t I be asking them what they wanted? It was for them after all and not me.
Our kids in our classrooms are the same as my sons. They have vision, skills they want to put to use, ambition, desires, and the ability to communicate. Too often we are driving ahead with the curriculum, the desire to get to a specific place in the text by a specific time in the year (I am so far behind!), our pet projects, the expectation of meeting a certain achievement or growth target, or getting a certain number of kids to hit a certain mark on a standardized test (that we won’t see the results of until the following fall at the earliest). In the midst of this we fail to hear them and get their buy-in for where we are headed. “Trust me, I know what I am doing.” Ever utter that phrase as a teacher? I know I have.
I stopped the building project last night. I examined my 9 year-old’s sketches (he is a rather talented artist by the way). All of his visions were doable. They could be tied into the final project without breaking the budget or exceeding my skill set. The treehouse will have a deck, a pulley system for hauling up “stuff”, and a hatch in the roof for pointing a telescope out of. And I am excited to build it. And they are more excited to help me. What visions do your students have for your classroom? Have you asked them? I wonder if you would be as surprised as I was to find that they could be incorporated into where you are headed and that they won’t derail the curriculum or your growth projections. In the process, you might just earn a bit more trust and get a little more buy-in.
