Inspire others and give the encouragement you wish you had received
Since my wife volunteered to chair the board of a special-needs school, we’ve been talking about education more frequently. On one occasion, this led us down memory lane, reflecting on the uniquely influential role some educators have had in our lives - both good and bad.
Since my wife has volunteered to chair the board of a special-needs school, we’ve been talking about education more frequently. On one occasion, this led us down memory lane, reflecting on the uniquely influential role some educators have had in our lives - both good and bad.
It’s the extreme cases that stick with you, like Mr Klatil, my German teacher in year 10. During the Summer break, I had finished a Stephen King novel - The Gunslinger. In my next essay, I experimented with some of King’s writing techniques that had captured my imagination. I was pleased with my work, and it did stand out alright. Enough for Mr Klatil to read the evocative introduction out loud in front of the class, ridiculing me for writing such garbage. For the fifteen-odd years that followed, I didn’t share any of my writing with anyone ever again. What might have happened if Mr Klatil had seen my efforts for what they were: An adolescent’s hapless attempt at developing a craft he was passionate about?
Positive examples abound too. Mr Richter in year 7 picked up on my passion for music and got me an auditioning slot at the state theatre. For the next few years, I would earn my first paychecks on stage in musicals, including - how else could it be - The Sound of Music. But I would also learn a ton about music, story, performance, history and much more.
Of course, learning and inspiration aren’t confined to the classroom either. I could recount many examples of pivotal encounters with those who encouraged my interests and thus my education and advancement in other areas. When we get encouraged, we get even more inspired. We learn, get better, fall in love with what we’re good at, and receive more encouragement. The virtuous cycle of passion and advancement begins. Inspiration yields learning.
This is the message in a video on my favourite science YouTube channel, Veritasium. In it, the presenter Derek Muller asks: What makes us learn most effectively? Information transmitted through images? Video? Text? Radio? A live lecturer? A combination? After combing through decades-worth of scientific papers on this question, Muller explains that none of these things matter to a large degree. It’s not about the medium in which information is conveyed. What matters instead is the state of mind in which the learner receives it, specifically, how engaged or inspired they are. This led to the conclusion that if their intention is to support learning, a teacher’s job is not to transmit information but to inspire the learner.
I think of ‘teachers’ here in the broadest possible sense. We can all be teachers to one another. While it’s hardly realistic to inspire everyone about all the same things, we should look for those signals that demonstrate a degree of receptiveness, a sort of ‘baseline passion’, and then nurture it.
In his touring talk on the topic of meritocracies, bestselling journalist Malcolm Gladwell concludes:
“Encouragement and social support really matter. They matter more than ability. Being someone who is given confidence and encouragement is powerfully predictive of actual performance in your cognitively defining field. More predictive than your ability. And in the absence of this encouragement and support even the most brilliant students flounder and fail and ultimately don’t succeed at all.”
Now that I’ve returned to my passion for words, I occasionally read about writing and the creative process. On the topic of giving yourself permission to do what you’re passionate about, Verlyn Klinkenborg writes:
“Who’s going to give you the authority to feel that what you notice is important? It will have to be you.”
When reading King, I noticed descriptions of landscapes, cloud formations, and wind direction. They felt important, and I gave myself the authority to use them. Mr Klatil took that authority away. Others gave it back. Now that I’m older, I know to own that authority myself and not to give others too much power over it.
But it needn’t be that way. What if we gave each other permission more often? I enjoy judging modern art as much as the next snarky Austrian. But when it comes to personally engaging with those who follow their interests, maybe we shouldn’t get so hung up on whether we like what they do but focus on the fact that they are doing at all. Let’s look for that spark in others and help turn it into a fire. Who could you encourage today?
Originally published on my newsletter Seven Things.
