The first day on the job can be tough for any new employee, especially when they are young and just entering the workforce. Summer jobs, part time work, new environments, unfamiliar faces … all of that uncertainty can sometimes combine to create unexpected situations. Like the following, for your consideration …
A young woman was about to begin one of her first jobs ever, and the boss had asked all new employees to meet in her office for orientation. She was the first to arrive (she liked to be a little early to prepare) and found the door to the office slightly ajar. She could hear voices inside, so she took a seat in the hall. While she waited, she opened her bag and searched for her list of start-up questions, to review again.
A few minutes later the door opened fully and a client walked out. When the client noticed the young employee sitting there, she startled and looked away, then hurriedly left. The boss came out a moment later and when she saw the young woman, exploded.
“That is unacceptable!” she scolded, pointing a finger at her. “That is just awful, you need to alert people if you are there!” Before she could respond, the boss stormed off down the hall.
It is easy to imagine the thoughts that may have been racing through the boss’s mind just before she reprimanded the employee: The chair was right outside my office. She was close enough to hear any conversation inside. I can hear conversations in the hall myself, even quiet ones. She was not listening to music or talking to anyone; she was just sitting there and clearly had been for some time. Of course she heard everything. She was eavesdropping.
Right?
Right???
The above scenario perfectly illustrates a phenomenon that afflicts all of us humans and is especially relevant in education. I’ve heard it called many things: jumping to conclusions, climbing your Ladder of Inference¹, making up a story, assumptions … But the gist of all of them is this: in any given circumstance, our brains filter events and information through our own individual lenses. And as much as we like to think we know (we just know) what must be going on in any given situation, the truth is we really don’t. Not until the person involved tells us. Until then, we are all only ever operating from our own frame of reference and, let’s face it, limited knowledge. The lived realities of others are not a part of our own experiences, so we jump to conclusions based on incomplete and sometimes biased information. And once a conclusion is in your head, unless you stop to question it, it can result in some regrettable actions.
The truth of the matter was, the young woman in the above scenario did not hear a single word of the conversation, even though it took place only a few feet away from her, and here is why: she had severe hearing loss, and unless she was facing a person in the same room, her hearing aids could not pick up sound properly, and any voices or conversations sounded like muffled white noise to her, if they were detectable at all. And because it was not within her frame of reference, she was completely unaware that a typical-hearing person would be able to hear a conversation behind that slightly-open door. But the boss did not pause; she scrambled up her ladder of inference and ended up yelling at her new, eager employee for something she did not do. And demonstrated a bit of ableism in the process.
Oops.
As teachers, we work with students whose backgrounds, identities, and lived realities may be very different from our own. We may not have all of the information required to identify and respond to students’ needs. And if we are not careful, if we do not find the pause, the quiet wondering, we risk forming conclusions that may be inaccurate, even harmful. And there are many scenarios in our day-to-day teaching that require questions rather than conclusions …
Look at the terrible lunches the student brings. The parent must not care. (Or does the student have intolerances and sensory challenges, and the food packed in lunches is what they will eat independently, with parents ensuring proper nutrition in supported environments at home? Or is the family experiencing food insecurity and does not know where to ask for assistance? Or something else?)
That child won’t even look me in the eye … so disrespectful. (Or is it social anxiety? Neurodiversity and difficulty with eye contact? Cultural deference to the teacher? Something else?)
Look at this absence list … how hard is it to get your child to school? (Or is there a chronic health condition? A student with mental illness? Economic barrier? Trauma? Something else?)
A colleague once told me that when she was a new teacher, she did not understand why some parents and caregivers had difficulty getting their children to school regularly. After years of supporting students and their families, she quietly remarked that behind many an arms-length absence list is a broken-hearted parent.
So, to all new teachers (and seasoned ones, including myself) if there is one thing to remind ourselves of, it is to find the pause, the quiet center in the storm of our thoughts. To resist rushing up that ladder, furiously grabbing at the rungs of our own experiences, hoisting ourselves up to quick conclusions. Because in the pause we may find reflection. Do I have all the information? Might my identity have shielded me from something here? How can I learn more? As Eugene Ionesco is said to have remarked, “It is not the answer that enlightens, but the question.”
Wishing many beautiful questions to you all.
¹ Harvard Business School Online, “What Is the Ladder of Inference?”, https://online.hbs.edu/blog/post/ladder-of-inference.
