said:
“If you do not want to participate, go to the telephone and tell your mother, ‘Mother, in this school we have to learn, and Mrs. Collins says I can’t fool around, so will you please pick me up.’ ”
Gary started writing. Eventually, Gary became an eager participant and an avid writer. Later that year, the class was discussing Macbeth and how his misguided thinking led him to commit murder. “It#x2019;s sort of like Socrates says, isn’t it, Miss Collins?” Gary piped up. “Macbeth should have known that ‘Straight thinking leads to straight living.’ ” For a class assignment, he wrote, “Somnus, god of sleep, please awaken us. While we sleep, ignorance takes over the world.… Take your spell off us. We don’t have long before ignorance makes a coup d’etat of the world.”
When teachers are judging them, students will sabotage the teacher by not trying. But when students understand that school is for them—a way for them to grow their minds—they do not insist on sabotaging themselves.
In my work, I have seen tough guys shed tears when they realize they can become smarter. It’s common for students to turn off to school and adopt an air of indifference, but we make a mistake if we think any student stops caring.
How can growth-minded teachers be so selfless, devoting untold hours to the worst students? Are they just saints? Is it reasonable to expect that everyone can become a saint? The answer is that they’re not entirely selfless. They love to learn. And teaching is a wonderful way to learn. About people and how they tick. About what you teach. About yourself. And about life.
Fixed-minded teachers often think of themselves as finished products. Their role is simply to impart their knowledge. But doesn’t that get boring year after year? Standing before yet another crowd of faces and imparting. Now, that’s hard.
Seymour Sarason was a professor of mine when I was in graduate school. He was a wonderful educator, and he always told us to question assumptions. “There’s an assumption,” he said, “that schools are for students’ learning. Well, why aren’t they just as much for teachers’ learning?” I never forgot that. In all of my teaching, I think about what
One of Marva Collins’s first mentors taught her the same thing—that, above all, a good teacher is one who continues to learn along with the students. And she let her students know that right up front: “Sometimes I don’t like other grown-ups very much because they think they know everything. I don’t know everything. I can learn all the time.”
It’s been said that Dorothy DeLay was an extraordinary teacher because she was not interested in teaching. She was interested in learning.
So, are great teachers born or made? Can anyone be a Collins, Esquith, or DeLay? It starts with the growth mindset—about yourself and about children. Not just lip service to the idea that all children can learn, but a deep desire to reach in and ignite the mind of every child. Michael Lewis, in
Coaches are teachers, too, but their students’ successes and failures are played out in front of crowds, published in the newspapers, and written into the record books. Their jobs rest on producing winners. Let’s look closely at three legendary coaches to see their mindsets in action.
Everyone who knows me well laughs when I say someone is complicated. “What do you think of so-and-so?” “Oh, he’s complicated.” It’s usually not a compliment. It means that so-and-so may be capable of great charm, warmth, and generosity, but there’s an undercurrent of ego that can erupt at any time. You never really know when you can trust him.
The fixed mindset makes people complicated. It makes them worried about their fixed traits and creates the need to document them, sometimes at your expense. And it makes them judgmental.
Bobby Knight, the famous and controversial college basketball coach, is complicated. He could be unbelievably kind. One time he passed up an important and lucrative opportunity to be a sportscaster, because a former player of his had been in a bad accident. Knight rushed to his side and saw him through the ordeal.
He could be extremely gracious. After the basketball team he coached won the Olympic gold medal, he insisted that the team pay homage first and foremost to Coach Henry Iba. Iba had never been given proper respect for his Olympic accomplishments, and in whatever way he could, Knight wanted to make up for it. He had the team carry Coach Iba around the floor on their shoulders.
Knight cared greatly about his players’ academic records. He wanted them to get an education, and he had a firm rule against missing classes or tutoring sessions.
But he could also be cruel, and this cruelty came from the fixed mindset. John Feinstein, author of
In Daryl Thomas, Feinstein says, “Knight saw a player of huge potential. Thomas had what coaches call a ‘million dollar body.’ ” He was big and strong, but also fast. He could shoot the ball with his left hand or his right hand. Knight couldn’t live with the thought that Thomas and his million-dollar body weren’t bringing the team success:
“You know what you are Daryl? You are the worst f_____ pussy I’ve ever seen play basketball at this school. The absolute worst pussy ever. You have more goddam ability than 95 percent of the players we’ve had here but you are a pussy from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. An absolute f_____ pussy. That’s my assessment of you after three years.”
To make a similar point, Knight once put a Tampax in a player’s locker.
Thomas was a sensitive guy. An assistant coach had given this advice: When he’s calling you an asshole, don’t listen. But whn he starts telling you
The ax of judgment came down on players who had the audacity to lose a game. Often Knight did not let the guilty parties ride back home with the rest of the team. They were no longer worthy of respectful treatment. One time, after his team reached the semifinals of a national tournament (but not
Some players could take it better than others. Steve Alford, who went on to have a professional career, had come to Indiana with clear goals in mind and was able to maintain a strong growth focus much of the time. He was able to hear and use Knight’s wisdom and, for the most part, ignore the obscene or demeaning parts of the tirades. But even he describes how the team broke down under the yoke of Knight’s judgments, and how he himself became so personally unhappy at some points that he lost his zest for the sport.
“The atmosphere was poisonous.… When I had been playing well I had always stayed upbeat, no matter how much Coach yelled.… But now his negativism, piled on top of my own, was drowning me.… Mom and Dad were