Reto para mis alumnos: Día 1

Reasons my new seventh graders want to learn Spanish...

¡Los adoro ya! ¡Bienvenidos a nuestra clase, chicos!

On letting go of perfectionism... But first, let me publish an overdue blog post!

So, I realize it's been some time since my last blog post (five weeks and two days, to be precise), despite my stated intention to post at least one per week since resuming this project.  Oh, I've got plenty of fabulous excuses for failing to fulfill this resolution:  First, there was wonderful time spent out of state with family last month, much needed after a busy school year.  And then, there were days spent working into the wee hours on essential curriculum revisions, much of which I will need to complete--or, at least, thoroughly outline--this summer, and which I'm still slowly wading my way through.  Of course, I also was delighted to finally coordinate time with friends I hadn't seen in months!  Then, there's been planning for the upcoming @PlaydateLA event on August 9th, as well as a trip to Las Vegas to participate in #EdCampVegas today (an incredible day, I might add!).  And, last but not least, I have just begun my move into a new home.  I think I've covered all of the big items here.

I could go on to list even more excuses for not writing a simple blog post--all of which are completely true, I might add!--but that's not the point of this post.  In fact, it's precisely my failure to fulfill my blogging resolution that has defined my next big challenge, both personal and professional:  the need to let go of "perfection" in order to truly grow.

Let's be honest.  Despite all of my many worthy ongoing projects, I really could have found a moment to post.  Yet, there was always a reason why it just wasn't a good time.  What could I possibly produce in a mere 20 minutes before I needed to leave for that appointment?  What could I create that would be of interest to anyone after a long day of curriculum writing, submission of administrative reports or organization of playdates (of the traditional variety, with actual elementary school-aged children in desperate need of an outlet for all of that energy they aren't currently expending on school-related activities)?  And then, of course, there is my lack of expertise.  How can I just sit down and write whatever's on my mind, when I've read so much from bloggers who actually know what they're doing, who invent wittier titles than I ever will, who include great images to complement innovative ideas, etc., etc.?  Suffice it to say that I was toting a nicely-sized suitcase of self-doubt.

This topic is quite timely, as it is also one of the major motivating factors behind my Spanish teams' curriculum development projects.  How can we expect our students to be willing to "fail up," to iterate without self-censorship, when we, as teachers, are so concerned with "getting it right" that we sometimes allow it to inhibit us from implementing change in the first place?  Aren't we supposed to be practicing what we preach?

And so, I thought it apropos to end this post--yes, I'm finally posting, warts and all--with some documentation of an area in which I have no problem "just doing it":  baking.

I LOVE to bake.  The precise measurement of ingredients, the chopping and slicing of fruit and nuts, the mixing and kneading of dough, the experimentation with each iteration of a favorite recipe, always ground me.  Don't get me wrong--I am not a master baker.  But I also know that I'm more than capable, I've acquired my personal bag of tricks after years of practice, and I never let the fear of failure stop me from doing it.

My last baking adventure--in July--was not my most successful.  It was, in fact, the second time I had attempted this peach pie recipe, after a remarkably successful first shot.  I was eagerly looking forward to another delicious substitute for "real" food as I put this into this oven:

    

However, like so many students (and humans, in general), my early success led to a bit of overconfidence the second time around.  I didn't pay as close attention to the timer as I had the first time, or remember the need to reduce the oven temperature after first browning the crust, which resulted in a finished product that looked like this:

       

I will admit that I had to fight the urge to cry when I removed this from the oven.

And yet, the truth is that this failure was really quite superficial.  No, this pie wasn't Martha Stewart Living magazine cover material.  But was it a wasted effort?  Well, I could state some platitudes about how I "learned" from this experience--and, yes, I learned--but, let's be honest, I wasn't feeling terribly grateful for the lesson at the moment.  However, if I could get past the initial "this is not perfect--it's not what I had in mind" reaction, and just look a bit deeper, what would I see?    

  

Okay, so I couldn't hold back from applying a little #tiltshiftgen blur here to convey to my dear readers the warm and fuzzy feeling I felt when I took a bite of this pie, still warm, with vanilla ice cream.  Oh, it was good.

But it wasn't a perfect pie.  I could still taste the burnt toastiness around the edges.  And it certainly wasn't the glossy magazine-cover vision I had in mind when I started.  But...it was still pretty darn good.  That pie didn't last three days in my refrigerator.

My point here, however, isn't that there's always a silver lining.  Failure will sometimes truly be unsalvageable.  (I can't count the number of times I've been forced to toss a tray of incinerated cookies because I still haven't learned my lesson after too many failed attempts to multitask while baking.)  But we don't start any new endeavor as an expert and, even when we are experts, we will still make mistakes.  Period.  Will I let that inhibit me from taking on new challenges this year, as I'm asking my students to also embrace the process, to expect that failure will be a necessary step on their road to learning?  I hope not.