Change Your Mind

On Tuesday evening, I got to witness something so well connected to the things I have been reading and writing about, that it was almost too good. At the varsity boys basketball game at North Lenoir, I watched a quick play under the basket that led to a layup from BJ Corbitt. It wasn't showy or set up. Just a short pass and a basket without any cheer. But I noticed that the points never went on the scoreboard. I glanced at the scorer's table to see if there was an issue with the board and noticed our bookkeeper, Andrew Fraboni, visibly upset. He also saw the layup from BJ, but the home scorekeeper hadn't and despite his pleading and the acknowledgment of some people behind them, she refused to change her mind and add the two points. She stood her ground on the belief that she was right.

A few weeks ago I wrote about truth and then about lies. We like to look at those things as two very distinct things. But in the case of the layup, the scorekeeper for North Lenoir did not believe that she was telling a lie at all. But if you saw the play, you knew that she couldn't be telling the truth. Science says that what we saw is actually pretty normal. It is very hard for us to change our minds. It's very simple and rational to think that we should just be able to look at evidence or information and determine if we are right or wrong in our thinking. But humans just don't do that and if you've ever had a political conversation at a family gathering, you know what I'm talking about. Our brains can look at information and pick out what supports our ideas and literally ignore any information that opposes it. Evolution has programmed us to not change our minds because it impacts our confidence and ego and overall makes us weaker psychologically. Being wrong makes you a loser. Our opinions create social circles that have developed a consensus and disrupting that can be very bad for us.

We are not always this way. Apparently, you become more rigid in your thinking as you age. By your thirties, you have developed a taste for foods and music and all sorts of things that you believe are "good" or "bad." After that age, not much changes. Younger minds are still developing and are much more open to information. Also as we age, we adopt a false sense of knowledge based on the people that we know and trust. For example, we don't need to know how our car engine really works if we know a mechanic. But I'll bet most people have an opinion on the dependability of a major car brand that we think is right. We do the same things with our opinions on all sorts of things from politics and climate change to consumer goods.

So here is what we know about truth, lies and changing our minds:

• Truths can collide and two people can be right and against one another.
• We all lie (usually daily) to promote our interests and teenagers lie more than anyone.
• Changing your mind about a truth can be really difficult, even if you have a mountain of evidence in front of you.

Undoubtedly, this semester, we have all encountered a situation where our truth conflicted with someone else's truth. (I know my child vs I know what I saw) We've probably also told a few lies to promote our advantage over a situation in our classroom or program. (Yes, I looked for your assignment and I didn't find it) Science says that we can't stop either of those. But what we can do is focus on changing our minds. Being rigid in your thoughts is known as a fixed mindset in the educational world. This is something that we do our best to teach students not to do, but we should practice this one as well. At the end of the semester, you have an opportunity to sit back and be objective about your teaching, your content, your expectations and all sorts of other things. But when you do, you can either look for only evidence that supports what you want to see or you can consider your class from all points of view. It's harder to do, but it also keeps your brain young. Before we start a new semester in January, try making a list of your practices. Consider those from the point of view of colleagues, students, parents, administrators or counselors. Do they still make sense? If not, try to change your mind. I promise we won't call you a loser, but we just might call you a better teacher.

Dare

Dare Johnson was a student in my American History class during my third year teaching. Dare was a friendly girl and one that I knew outside of school. As her youth pastor, I had gotten to know her well. Dare was not athletic and not a top academic student, but was one that everyone seemed to like because she liked everybody. Born to hippie parents, her first name was Sunny. And while she went by Dare, I always thought that Sunny fit her personality better. Her first car even had two sunroofs so that "she could see more of the sun." 

One week, I had been on her to complete some makeup work that was hurting her grade pretty bad. Dare was that kind of student. I was out of work for some reason one day and received a call that  Dare had passed away in a car accident that afternoon. That evening I called several members of our class and of the youth group. I remember sitting up that evening writing out what I thought I should say to our first-period class the next morning. I got to school extra early to talk with our counselor and went over what I was going to tell the class. When I entered the room, the very first thing I saw was a stack of papers and a workbook laying on my back table with a note from Dare. She had left me all of her makeup work. 

When class started that morning, my notes were quickly forgotten. I stood in front of the class and cried. I laughed and cried as I told them all about a ski trip that we had taken that winter with our youth group and how miserably bad Dare had been as a skier. Her fluorescent coat could be seen rolling down the slopes all day. All I knew to do was to celebrate what we loved about her and to show my students that it was ok to be upset about our loss. 

Since that year, I have unfortunately lost several students and it never gets any easier to deal with. As an educator, you sometimes invest more time into some students than you do your own families. Those that usually get the most time are the ones with the biggest needs. They have academic or social behaviors that require special attention. When those students are lost, you often feel it on a personal level. 

The loss of TyMear Dodd rang true on all of these feelings. TyMear was not a student that we will remember for his academic or athletic contributions, but he is someone that his teachers knew for his ability to make things right when he had done wrong and how he checked in on those that he cared for often. He was one of the students that needed extra time and attention, but in giving that, you somehow understood him better. And if there is anything that we all should learn from him, it's that we do care for one another. None of us is a perfect member of our school community, but our attachments to one another are not based on our shortcomings. Instead, we are linked by what we give to each other.