Tying Ties
By Jason Schouten | February 16th
About 100 years ago, during my first practicum as a teacher candidate, I created a student feedback document that I shared with a Grade 11 class. You’ve probably done something similar yourself. The document included rubrics for the activities we did as a class, a bunch of questions about me as a teacher, and a space for questions or comments—all the normal things. One student, you know the type, usually sat as far back and near the exit as possible, was generally disengaged, pretty angry-looking, and certainly not someone who loved school (and I’m not sure the school I was at loved him either!). He ignored every question on the page. Instead, he responded by writing in big block letters: you respect us and actually like us.
It was, and still is, the single most important piece of feedback I have received in my career in education.
Now, don’t get me wrong, curriculum delivery, lesson planning, communicating with students and parents, assessment—all the things—matter. But it is paramount that they be rooted in a strong teacher/student relationship, built on a foundation of care, trust, knowing our students, and, as my grade 11 student said, respect and “actually lik(ing) us.”
But that’s the question, isn’t it: do our students know that we are for them? And I don’t mean that we might laugh at their jokes from time to time, or maybe help them when they’re stuck on a difficult math question. That’s just the baseline for a relationship built on care and respect. For me, that is the bare minimum.
Students need to understand that we are on their team. That we are completely sold out for them. That we would wear their jersey if we could! And, I’m not just talking about the easy-to-love kids, I mean the really hard ones, too. The ones that keep us up at night and derail our carefully laid plans and classroom culture. Do they know that when they mess up—really mess up—we will still love them, forgive them, walk alongside them, and treat them the same way the next day? Basically, do all of our students know that we are deeply committed to them and their success?
Building relationships with our students takes effort and close attention. Every kid is different. Every situation requires a unique approach and solution. We can’t take a one-size-fits-all approach; we need examples, creativity, time, and effort.
Early in my career, I was at school watching the high school talent show. It was your typical, pretty-good-with-a-couple-awkward-moments kind of show, until one rougher-looking student got on stage and absolutely blew me away. His gritty, folksy voice and confident guitar playing were 100 times better than anyone else’s. In my mind, it was a given that he would win the talent show. Except he didn’t. He wasn’t even in the top three. Later, I found out why: he was a difficult student who the teachers didn’t really like. (And, even though you might think this is just my opinion, this musician went on to participate in—and almost win—a national competition, and has had a successful career in the music industry.)
Fast forward a month or so. The school was hosting its senior formal, and I was a chaperone. In walks this same boy, looking pretty frazzled and disheveled. His tie a knotted mess, shirt untucked, shoelaces dragging on the ground. Gone was the stage presence and strumming confidence. Apparently, he had asked a girl he had liked for a long time to the formal, and she said yes—something I don’t think he expected. I knew he was on the struggle bus and I wanted to help him put his best foot forward. I went over and asked how he was doing. He said he was pretty nervous. I took him to a quiet hallway and asked if I could fix his tie. While I was tying it, I encouraged him and told him I really enjoyed his singing at the talent show. I think I might have been the first staff member to say that to him.
Although I was only at this school briefly, after fixing his tie and having our short conversation in the hallway, something grew between us. That gritty musician and I developed a solid relationship built on mutual respect and the understanding that I genuinely liked him. I was on his team. I was for him. And I think he knew it—not because of anything grand or dramatic that I did, but because in that small moment, I showed up, noticed him, and treated him like he mattered. I fixed his tie.
Isn’t this what Jesus does for us? He shows up, encourages us, and tells us He loves us. Instead of hold our shortcomings against us, Jesus gives pep talks. He straightens ties. He doesn’t tally up our failures. He doesn’t bring out His measuring stick. Imagine if He did? Imagine if He said to Peter, “Deny me three times? Sorry friend, that was one too many.” Or, if he said to Thomas, “Doubt me, Thomas? Sorry, you can’t be my follower.” I can’t even begin to list all the ways I don’t measure up. I will be eternally grateful for the ways Jesus shows up in my life. Eternally thankful that He loves me in spite of all of that. His love spurs me on to show the same love to others. How else could I respond?
We may need student discipline policies. Even a rule breaker like me recognizes we need rules. Boundaries help kids succeed. All this is true. But, I would recommend, that at the root of all of these things, we should be tying ties.
Jason Schouten is the High School Cohort Leader for Edvance, and is Executive Director at St. Thomas Community Christian School.