I was recently asked the following question:
"Which of your colleagues are you most inspired by?"
I am embarrassed to admit that the question terrified me. I knew I should have an answer...that I should be able to enthusiastically and emphatically dive into a conversation about how I am inspired and by whom.
But I couldn't. I didn't have an answer. I was embarrassed.
And it really threw me for a loop.
You see, I know what it feels like to be inspired. I love being inspired, and I genuinely feel inspired often. But right now, in my current season of life, I'm just not making the time to connect with my colleagues in ways that are pedagogically inspiring. I am allowing paperwork, preparation, and the minutiae of my job to take the helm.
In writing about fatherhood, Dave Simmons once wrote that in order to spend quality time with our children we must first commit to having a larger quantity of time with our children. They aren't efficient (our kids); instead of quickly maximizing time together,
"What they do is suddenly--no one can predict when--spin around, open up, and take a long swig of Dad. The little hole in the window opens up and lets you in. Then they shut it, go back to their preoccupation and shut you in a holding mode again...You have to hang around."
Though children and colleagues differ, by simply spending time around my colleagues I can become more inspired. So what have I done since that initial conversation? I have twice placed myself near colleagues to do work, eat lunch, and I've prioritized asking a question, sharing an idea, affirming them for a strength I admire, or discussing a dilemma.
The result has been great and the 50 minutes have been both illuminating and inspiring. I was inspired by being near them, by spending time around them, and by allowing the silence between us to invite the window to open up.
If we don't know who we're inspired by, we're probably failing ourselves and putting a ceiling on our propensity to be inspired and to reach the heights of which we are capable.
When Will McDonough was a little boy, he loved to learn. In fact, he still does. Will is a teacher now, and every Thursday he writes about something he's learning in the classroom. He's pretty busy, so he takes just 30 minutes to free write; then, regardless of how polished the ideas or mechanics might be, he publishes it. It's incomplete. It's a start. And it feels good.
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