Same Old Shoes

I can always count on a pair of old brown shoes I have.  They go well with my khakis and blue or white shirts.  My favorite navy blue suit is also a great match with these shoes.  What makes them so special is the soft leather and deep brown classic professional look.  Despite costing me $175 when I purchased them, I can't seem to get rid of them.  I've changed the sole only once in 8 years!

Putting them on after summer vacation ... that's right when school is not in session it means administrators can wear shorts and sneakers ... I started thinking about how educators tend to stay with what they know.  The safe.  The secure.  The same old "tricks of the trade" or the same instructional strategies.

How difficult is it for us educators to get rid of something?  If its a book, a tool, a piece of furniture or perhaps a way of thinking or doing.  We don't like throwing things away.  It's not in our nature.

I guess the same goes for our approach towards students.  At the beginning of every school year we all put our best uniforms or outfits (including shoes!).  By the end of the year we are broken in and in some cases, feel worn out.  There is value in a solid piece of furniture like a stool, a chair, an easel.  The same for an effective strategy.

But what happens when that old reliable strategy or tool is no longer effective?  How do we know when to stop using it?  How do we know its time to do something else?  How long does it take for us to notice that we are not effective?  What do we do to prepare ourselves?  Or do we wait for a superior to tell us via a walkthrough?  Or after a formal evaluation?  Or after a summative assessment?  Or perhaps it takes an irate parent for us to gain a new awareness? What has to happen for us to try something new?

Some of us can't resist peeking at our new students files before school starts.  We want to be prepared and not taken by surprise.  Many refuse to take on new challenges and risks because it forces us to grow.  It forces us to feel insecure, uncomfortable, and go beyond what we know and into the unknown.  Or maybe we do not "step up" because we are afraid to fail.

Looking again at my old pair of shoes, I am struck at how good they look.  Then I am forced to look again, and closer, and I have to admit that they also look a bit battered and worn.  Soon I will purchase a new pair because my feet will beg me for a "new" comfort and stability. This pair will one day run its course.

Soon a student, a class, a parent or some other stakeholder will compel us to change our strategy, our approach, our mindset.  We can only "walk" in the old but comfortable shoes for so long.  Waiting will only delay the inevitable.  Why not prepare to walk in a new pair?  Your feet will surprise you where they might lead you.