Pure Belief

Sometimes a blog post just writes itself. There's a lot we can develop as educators as we hone and develop our craft over time. But belief in and love of/for kids is something that just has to be in us. Not only that, our belief and love must be obvious to the kids we teach. Otherwise, all the skill in the world won't really amount to much.

This week our 8th grade students took the two part Virginia Writing SOL Test. After the multiple choice day, I asked a few kids how they felt about the test. They said they felt like they had done well, that they had been well prepared.

Then one suddenly piped up and said, "I can't wait for tomorrow. I'm going to kill it on the essay!"

I said, "Really! What a great attitude!"

Then, without guile, and as if it had been scripted for a corny but inspiring film about education (e.g., Lean on Me, Dead Poets Society, etc.), she said, "Mr. Dunlo says we've got this. I know I can do it." The other kids around her all nodded in agreement and expressed similar sentiments.

It was a profound moment for me. It made me smile. I heard similar comments from other students about the other 8th grade English teachers. I knew all the teachers had worked incredibly hard with the students preparing them with the skills they needed to do well. It became clear to me this week, though, they they had also worked incredibly hard building the students' belief and confidence in themselves.

For that young lady, and for so many of our 8th graders, the battle was won before it had even been fought quite simply because their teachers believed in them and they knew it, and as a result they believed in themselves. I have never seen a group of students go into a standardized test with so much confidence, and amazingly, so much enthusiasm. Regardless of what their scores might ultimately be, that in and of itself is far more worthwhile.

Fittingly, after the test, Mr. Dunlo posted a picture of a toy pteradactyl on a skateboard to Instagram, captioned with the following message to his students:

"mrdunloThis is a pterodactyl on a skateboard. Also, I am so proud of all my students for the effort, focus, and fun that they injected in to their preparation for this year's SOL writing test. The work you guys put in his led to improvement as writers, and this improvement will benefit you in the rest of your academic career and life. (No matter what you do in the future, you'll do better if you have the ability to clearly and effectively communicate.) So to me, this test signifies a benchmark: this was your chance to take one day and create something that proves to yourself that you're awesome at writing, you've learned or improved a specific skill this year, and you can excel at anything (even if you think you're going to hate doing it). I'm not the one grading the essay, you're never going to see a copy of it, so it's up to you to trust yourself and your knowledge and be able to say, "I killed it today." And, the awesome thing is that I know you all should be able to say that sentence to yourself - because you applied your skills, focused on the task, had a positive attitude, and you did your best. I don't care about whatever number you score on the test - I hope you all realize the lengths to which you've improved as writers. We're not done writing (because writing is awesome, duh) but we get to stop talking about the test!!! I'm psyched to start the final phase of the school year because I get to keep spending my days watching awesome kids do awesome things!!! #thankyou#DoSchool #PMA#pterodactylskateboard#picturehasnothingtodowiththecaption"

There's not really much else I can add. His belief is true and overt, and his love for them is obvious. This is how every adult--teacher, parent, coach, etc.--should think about and talk to young people. Imagine what every kid could accomplish if every adult they encountered treated them this way. What a world it would be.