I have all the answers.

You know Sisyphus as the guy condemned to push a boulder up a hill for all eternity. Just as he gets it to the top, it rolls back down the hill. He returns to the bottom and starts again.  He does this forever.  

Insanity is repeating the same thing over and over and expecting different results.  I can't claim to have coined that gem.  Neither can Einstein or Rita Mae Brown, for that matter.  

I think about the USA and their military solutions.  I think about Australian politicians squandering the diminishing returns of voter trust on hollow rhetoric.  I think about my two-year-old son's tantrums.  Of these three examples, I expect that my son will grow out of his self-defeating behaviour very soon.

This all brings us rather neatly to the topic of peer coaching.  Peer coaching is very simple.  It's about perspective.  The challenges that you face might not be of any substance.  The way you're doing things might be the issue.  The solutions you've come up with might actually be the biggest problem.  A peer coach can think for you (we come up with solutions for others far easier than for ourselves), be objective for you (our regular colleagues often reinforce our limitations) and hold you accountable (it becomes real if you say it out loud and someone else is listening).

Why was Sisyphus pushing that rock?  He was being punished.  For hubris.  The one thing sure to get in the way of effective peer coaching is hubris.  We already have the answers.  Often before we know the questions.

The Listening Deficit

I'm being lectured as I write this. The content of the lecture is how we can relate to our students in an authentic way. The speaker is relating to me in an archaic way and he seems unaware of the irony. He’s not a bad guy; I actually admire him as a teacher and as a peer-educator. There’s just something wrong about the way teachers present material to each other in a formal setting.  Professional development has always meant lots of talking. There’s ample evidence to suggest this has never worked.

   

When I listen, I am at my most helpful. When I speak, my content is linear and my aim narrow. There’s a very high chance of minimal impact. Why do we favour the one over the other? There is a great emphasis on groups and talking, open plan offices and brainstorming. None of it works.  Where is the emphasis on listening and being quiet?    

Let’s take an example from a recent encounter. A colleague was talking and I was listening. She was expressing frustration at how long it took to find key phrases in online text. Because I was quiet, I was able to suggest ctrl-F as a solution. Because this was her story and not mine, I was able to provide input that had more meaning for her than it did for me. By the way, ctrl-F might not be as well-used as you might think.

Perhaps the issue is narrative. Given a chance to present to colleagues, we tend to construct a narrative to share. Sometimes these are interesting. Mostly they lack impact and are soon forgotten. Either way, in a room with 100 people, there are 100 narratives. Why is the presenters’ narrative the most salient, useful or worthy of sharing?  

Should we abandon the presentation idea for professional development?  What else would you do on those days? Personally, I’d abandon both the presentation and the day. Professional development that works requires a different approach. It requires money, time, planning and thought. Filling a day with presentations is cheaper, takes less time, requires minimal planning and short-term thinking.  

As usual, the easy option has become the orthodoxy.

My goal is work out a way of selling "listening". It's going to be tough, because the medium might be at odds with the message. Any ideas?