In Support of Children: The Thin Veil of Self-Confidence

As a long-time teacher, school leader, and parent, I can personally and professionally attest to the fragility of the human spirit. That’s because I have been there, along with you and the rest of us. One minute we believe we can change the world and the next minute we are ready to give up on it. The thin veil of self-confidence that envelopes each of us, and our children in particular, brings into question the propriety and opportunity we have as educators in the words that we use and the actions that we take. For just a moment, let us all think back as far as we can remember, for it is there among memories pieced together that we might recall the first time someone suggested that we could be good at something, that we had some sort of future, some sort of gift that was unique unto us. In recent years, I can recall my son riding a wave of pride and self-importance brought upon by his English teacher’s kind words in calling him one of the best writers in his class. I’m not really sure if he was or was not and I’m certain that it mattered. What mattered was his reaction. Suddenly, the kid was Shakespeare. I had watched my son struggle with his writing countless times and stare at the computer screen in disgust and frustration. Even our feedback to him as his parents and pats on the back through the years had not amounted to much improvement. That was, until his teacher said something positive. That same evening, and for many months thereafter, my son would come home from school and work on some kind of writing assignment, calling out to us to “come quick” and read this or that because, you know, “My teacher says I am one the best writers there is.”

Cultural competence demands that we instill confidence in every learner

The message that “you are special” and that “you can be somebody” is not lost on any young person and is even more valuable across our most marginalized student populations. Why? Because words matter and because these learners are less likely than others in school to receive this kind of encouragement. Blame it on bias or the cultural divide, but it exists. And we must change that. The ongoing research on self-confidence or self-efficacy connects this notion to something much more significant than a general belief in one’s self. True self-efficacy requires that our confidence be tied to a belief that we can control our futures, our destinies. That’s more than just simple optimism. It’s operational self-actualization. In short, it is akin to saying: “I got this.” This is where schools come in. The words that we use to encourage or discourage our students actually mean something and contribute to these beliefs. If supported along the way, a student grows in this belief and feels more empowered that “I can accomplish something,” whether that be a math problem today or becoming an engineer at some point in the future. By the way, the opposite of this is not just pessimism but something even worse. It’s called “learned helplessness,” the idea that I have learned somewhere along the way that I cannot do this. As such, I am not even going to try. (See Bandura’s writings on self-efficacy). This is a critical step in our pursuit to be teachers of children and not just teachers of subjects. It is not too much to ask that our teachers be mindful and even be purposeful in helping our children find their strengths and build their confidence, especially among our most struggling students.

False praise is harmful but no praise is life-threatening

The cycle of failure that exists for nearly all struggling kids in all schools is crippling, maybe even life-threatening. It begins early in our school careers and compounds itself to a point that many, many students describe themselves as “not smart,” “not capable,” and “not amounting to much.” I speak as an expert on this topic because I was that child. I lived that childhood. No student wants an adult to tell them something that isn’t true. It is neither honest nor helpful to children if we tell them they are “great at math” when they are awful at it. Kids see right through that anyway. Still, for a child who believes he is not good at anything, we must seek to find his or her strengths and build upon those. This much I know. We are born equal and with equal potential. It is also true that from the time we are born, we all seek to find our place in the world. We all seek our calling. For most people, the first notion that we are good at something comes from our teachers. I would submit that almost no human being has ever discovered his or her true strengths without some sort of affirmation from a teacher. Oh, the threads we weave with the words we use. Through our daily interactions with kids, we create patterns that reveal themselves over time, whether they be sarcastic takes on a child’s clothing or the neighborhood they live in or the colloquialisms they use, or maybe the inspiring affirmations and celebrations that a teacher offers about a child’s artistic talents or social skills or academic insights. If we plan for each student’s success, we can create schools and school systems that help each child uncover his or her strengths and, in turn, robe them in confidence sewn over many years of purposeful, cultural interactions. This is my hope for all children. As for my kid, I only wish his other teachers gave him praise like his English teacher did. Then again, maybe he should have just done his homework.