The Double-Edged Sword of Reflection

To start with, I want to acknowledge Naomi Barnes (@DrNomyn) for her powerful and resonant post – it has really got me thinking.

Teaching creates corporeal responses in us, because as Barnes points out, we care too much. There is a whole other story about why we get to caring too much, whether we should (I’d be lost for words if we thought we shouldn’t), but I would suggest there is little in education that is not high stakes, for someone, somewhere at some time. Indeed, we feel the gravity of responsibility on so many levels that it is hard to not treat education as high stakes. Too much rides on it. It is also an intimately personal profession. Educators are the interface, the filter, the absorber, the deflector, the interpreter, the optimist and the realist.

I can’t speak for other professions, but I know teaching makes us to reflect. Whichever way I think about it, we reflect because we are a relational profession. Perhaps because we can’t interleave relationships, I can see why some say teaching is actually a ‘way of life’, not just a job. Knowledge, curriculum, governance, safety, leadership, behaviour, conflict, theory, literature – in some way, shape or form, we are the intersection between them and our thinking and actions has an impact.

It is this point that draws me to another of Barnes’ posts where she talks about ‘diffraction‘. While we can all reflect on an event, our life, all those things that have resulted on how we got here, diffraction affords us the uncertainty of NOT knowing precisely HOW the future is going to be. Teaching can be the same. As Barnes notes, “life could go in any direction because new people, materials and environments wait for you there. Those things will transform you as a person every step you take and you will transform those things.” For me this is both the beauty and the terrifying truth about teaching. Each day is a new day with such incredible uncertainty,

We can fastidiously plan and prepare only to be undone by the experience or emotion of a student, family or colleague. That’s ok, we adapt. We need to. We juggle multiple interactions through many mediums, all the while trying to be fearless and honest in that conversation without offending, violating, blaming, shaming or demeaning people. We also know that empathy is a heartfelt orientation not just a euphemism for sincerity. People, especially students work that out quickly.

Teachers also reflect in the strangest of places at the strangest of time; on holiday, at 3am in the morning, while teaching, over dinner with the family, while gardening, on the commute to work, while watching a movie. Switching off is almost impossible. If someone has found a killswitch for reflection, perhaps they would care to share, but it is hard to do when we care too much. Reflection is not a waste of time. In fact, I believe schools should build in time to do this more readily and with sincerity. It is not a seditious attempt to undermine direction and progress or the cultural norms of a school, it can be a means of accessing the seemingly nebulous ‘pulse’ of a school, acknowledge that it is hard to stomach the crooked finger of blame being pointed at our profession constantly and that we do one of the hardest jobs around, a job that is rooted in caring.

Lots has been written about the importance of reflecting to make sense and understand ourselves and our work. From Arguilis and Schon (1973) to Jack Whitehead (1988) and Stephen Brookfield (1995, 2005), all attest to the need to gauge our impact and live out our values through our craft. This is no mean feat when we consider the internal struggles which are resultant of the external forces which influence what we do and think. We are expected to reflect whilst also remaining sanguine. In ‘Becoming a Critically Reflective Teacher’ (1995), Stephen Brookfield writes about how teachers are inextricably connected to the notion of reflection. He shows how important the chance to debrief, process and digest things on lots of levels.

Brookfield points out that by not situating our jobs in wider socio-political contexts, we can fall foul of what he refers to as ‘self-laceration’. By this he means we immediately blame ourselves when things don’t go to plan or we don’t measure up. Brookfield goes on to remind us of the criticality of reflection and introduces us to four different but interconnecting lenses through which to determine the value of our work and interactions:

  • Personal/’autobiographical’ experiences
  • The view through our students’ eyes
  • The view through colleagues’ eyes
  • The view through the lens of theory/literature.

While these lenses (strictly speaking) apply to teaching and learning, I would argue that they also give us an insight into why teachers ‘feel’ their job and work so intensely – PLUS, it is very hard to not associate our work with politics or social contexts. To not do this starves us of our belief system we bring to our work and the children and community we work for. With the multitude of personal, school, local or policy distractions, pressures and incumbencies, it is little wonder that our emotions and will can ossify into congeries of frustration, anger, resentment, fear and even outright elation. After all, as Brookfield points out, our own personal life story, those of students, their parents, our colleagues, and our institution all matter a great deal. I don’t know too many educators devoid of the prosaic concern of screwing up in some way, shape or form each and every day.

While I agree that teachers always strive to reflect to make sense of their work and do their job better (self-imposed or through some other debriefing method), we feel the intense combined burn of Brookfield’s four lenses as if we were the mere play-thing under a magnifying glass. Those immediately around us by consequence inherit the effect of our reflection whether through daydreaming, extra hours worked, dinners missed, broken sleep to name a few. Perhaps though, it is ourselves who struggle the most, wearing ‘your heart on your sleeve’ comes with a health warning; learn and plan – great, wrestle with blame and internalise the struggles of teaching – problematic.

Reflection is, in my opinion, a double-edged sword. The process of reflecting is a worthwhile one, but it can bring illumination and affirmation in one breath, disappointment and frustration in another. Either way, our work demands reflection of us. Question is, how best to do it, when do we do it and how do we get the most out of it so all benefit?

 

7 thoughts on “The Double-Edged Sword of Reflection

  1. Peter A Barnard

    I am not sure I agree although I know where you are coming from. Refelection is tricky and not a discipline as claimed by Senge. Everyone reflects but even our reflection is contextually influenced. Those who reflect within linear systems tens to rationalise accordingly….reflection works best when the cultural assumptions that garners it are exposed to the light of day and shown to be wrong. In a linear system the defining characteristics of care are warped semantically to suit. I see this again and again in every linear school I visit.

  2. “Question is, how best to do it, when do we do it and how do we get the most out of it so all benefit?”

    Like much else in teaching (or any endeavour that is based on human relationship) – it depends. And because we do so much of it, it may be also healthy to ask “how/when NOT to do it?” and “what/who is this reflection FOR?”.

    As for care – it is essential in our profession but also a trap if giving too much, too little, too soon, too late. It…well, depends. 😉

    Cheers John, good post.

    Tomaz

    • That is a great point for me to reflect on 🙂 How do we discern when/what to reflect on … That’s got me thinking!

      Cheers Tomaz.

  3. Denise Lombardo

    Resoundingly true…will be sharing this with some colleagues. Thank you!

    • Thank you very much Denise. I hope you colleagues enjoyed it? Sorry for the lag-time with responding.
      Jon

  4. Another great post! I have this quote up in my office to remind me why my role as coach is so powerful …

    “We do not learn from experience… we learn from reflecting on experience.”
    ― John Dewey

    • Thanks Naketa. I am rubbish at replying to comments left 🙁 But, I really appreciate you taking the time and reading them.
      Jon

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