By Emily Raudenbush Gum
One of the most important lessons I have learned as an educator recently actually stems from my role as the mother of two young boys. Like most parents, I have faced moments where I have read less-than-flattering comments about my sons on report cards or received calls about something they did wrong during the day. I admit my boys can be a handful, and I am grateful for those teachers who know and love them every day. But, it does make me step back and wonder: are our schools designed for the children that we have, or for the idealized version of them?
This question keeps me humble as a school leader, and it changes the way I interact with parents whose children are in my school. I know that, more than anything else, families want their child to be in a school that is designed for their individual child to thrive, not some ideal of their child. This is why we say at our school that we set out day by day to be a place for the actual teenagers who we have, not the teenagers who we wish existed, and our actual teenagers make mistakes.
There is a book, 10 to 25: The Science of Motivating Young People, recently published by developmental psychologist David Yeager, which helps to substantiate our approach. It gives this instinct I just described a name. Yeager’s research has focused on what is happening in the development of young people and why many school practices not only start from what turn out to be false assumptions about who these young people are, but then also designs against these missteps. (In my last contribution to this publication, “The Future of Education is Adaptability,” I described how design standards work in thinking about schools.) Yeager’s claim is that if we underestimate young people, we set our standards too low for them, believing that their brains aren’t developmentally ready for high stakes. On the other hand, if we mistake what motivates young people, ignoring that the social posturing of teenagers is deeply relevant to their healthy development, then we fail to show the deep respect for these young individuals that not only offers them support in a way they can accept, but also motivates them to reach their highest potential. Yeager calls this the “mentorship mentality” and it is brilliant and deeply aligned to the model of education Frederick Gunn, the founder of my school, imagined 175 years ago. While Mr. Gunn might not have called it that, “mentorship mentality” continues to drive our educational philosophy today.
Why is it so hard for schools to take as a starting point for their classrooms that teenagers make mistakes? Or to use a more technical term, teenagers are fallible in all sorts of ways that we hope they grow out of — or compensate for — as they age into adulthood. Here is where scale begins to matter a great deal in schools. When educators set ambitious standards for our students to reach, and any particular student fails to live into their full potential, we do what all humans do. We make up stories.
Maybe this student blew off my test prep because they were gaming instead of being responsible. Maybe this student should have taken advantage of extra help when I offered it. Maybe this student isn’t paying attention in class. Maybe this student “just isn’t a math kid.” Of course, we can also generate a more generous range of stories. Maybe this student got into a disagreement with his dad. Maybe this student broke up with her significant other. Maybe this student is recovering from the flu.
As Yeager describes it, our temptations to believe in the first set of possibilities leads us to enforce high standards without considering whether we are offering enough and the right kind of support, and our temptations to believe in the second set of possible stories leads us to lower our expectations and standards in the name of support. We find ourselves saying, teenagers are up against so much — social media, a mental health crisis, global crisis fatigue — can’t we just give our young people a pass?
So, how would a teacher know why a particular teenager failed to live up to high standards and expectations in a specific moment and motivate them to their full potential? The solution is in knowing our students, and their incredible potential, personally and collectively. To know what is holding a teenager back — the causes of their mistakes and what they are truly struggling with — requires knowing this particular kid really well. This is not about “kids these days,” it is about the amazing actual students who we get to partner with for this actual school year. It is about establishing ambitious visions of what is possible for this actual kid. What would it look like to allow schools to prioritize teachers knowing their students well and building trust with them as their number one priority because it is the bedrock of great education and humane excellence? This is possible only in schools where building trust with students is the foundation of your approach.
All teenagers make mistakes, they are fallible, and when excellent educators are given the resources by their schools to know their students comprehensively enough, they can lead them through challenges personally and with respect. Then, we get to see the greatest possible growth in each of our students. (It is a value proposition that small boarding schools do singularly well, I am proud to say.)
Emily Raudenbush Gum is the 12th Head of School at The Frederick Gunn School in Washington, Connecticut, celebrating its 175th year.
