What Lefty Layups Can Teach Us About Learning (And Teaching!)

Whenever I encounter a student who doesn't want to fail, who allows perfectionism to reign over their very existence, I think about left-handed layups.

I can vividly recall, as a young basketball player, watching my teammates (myself included) continuously dismiss the opportunity to take an open layup with their left hand simply because they weren't adept at hitting the shot. One might think that practice would be the opportunity to hone the skill, but most of my teammates didn't want to mess it up...they didn't want to fail on a stage.

I see lefty layup moments in my students all the time. Opportunities to fail, to struggle, to improve and develop being side-stepped in favor of an opportunity to guarantee success.


Earlier this week I asked my students to respond to the following prompt:

If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any (human) quality or ability, what would it be?

I wanted to get them thinking about our foibles and blemishes as humans, about our flaws, about our character. As English teachers, we discuss these things as they pertain to literary characters all the time. We look at strengths and, by dissecting them, we begin to see that a perceived strength can often reveal a weakness as well (courage or fearlessness can often reveal a lack of mindfulness or patience, for example).

In this exercise, though, I wanted my students to hold up a mirror. I wanted them to think about the areas they see as opportunities to improve. I wanted them to think about abilities that aren't superhuman, but that can be honed and practiced. That fit into the growth mindset of their learning.

The reality is that we can't wake up tomorrow being more resilient students, more confident speakers, or having better organization skills. We can't become better listeners, or develop sincere compassion overnight. What we can do, though, is begin to grow our awareness.

My students had many things they wish they could change about themselves. They were thoughtful in the exercise, and most of them were willing to share.

One student admitted that she wished she could be more brave...that she owns her identity as a fraidy cat.

The ironic thing about it, though, is that she was being brave in that moment...by digging into the uncomfortable work of being vulnerable in front of others, she was displaying remarkable fortitude. Now, though, I have the incredible opportunity to connect with this student each day and ask her how she's been brave today, or encourage her: "You're so brave!"

For my student who wants to be better organized (this was my goal as well!) I can sit beside him during study hall and ask, "Hey, how's the organization going? Can I help you think about putting all the pieces in place?"

Many of my students wanted to be more confident speakers and contributors in class. With these students in mind, I orchestrated a "silent conversation" in the hallway outside my classroom so they could feel "heard," without having to actually speak. I was able to hold them accountable by providing a baby step toward feeling like their views matter. Next, I might affirm them and suggest that they write a few comments they'd like to share in class each evening as part of their homework. Then, the improvisation of speaking "off the cuff" can be eliminated.



The coolest thing about this exercise, though, was less about what I can do to support and uplift my students, and more about their own areas of self-awareness and their support of each other. When teachers ask students, "what are your goals?" they often respond with quantitative, measurable outcomes: I'd like to make honor roll, do better in math, make the varsity baseball team, for example.

By asking them the skills and qualities they wish they could possess, however, the students are able to unconsciously back into the processes they might go through in developing the very outcomes they crave.

Today I am going to model for my students my first step in becoming more organized. Each of my students will have a folder with their name on it in the back of the room where their graded essays, rough drafts, and revisions will live. I will let my students be my accountability partners in my pursuit of being better organized. I'll let them remind me, just as I will remind them. I will try to model vulnerability and lean into my imperfections in the hope that their perfectionist selves will do the same. One of my greatest strengths in the classroom is my ability to improvise...but improvisers are not always great planners and organizers. I don't procrastinate, but I often sort the details out as I go.

I will let them watch me miss lefty layups, and I will ask them to gauge the impact of my development. I will stumble, jumping off the wrong foot, or feebly attempting to eliminate the number of piles that clutter my classroom...but I will let them in and I will allow myself to fail on the stage. And I will let them help me grow.