Feedback

According to Douglas Stone and Sheila Heen, authors of Thanks for the Feedback: the science and art of receiving feedback well (even when it is off base, unfair, poorly delivered, and, frankly, when you're not in the mood), the word "feed-back" finds its origin in the 1860s during the Industrial Revolution when it was used to describe the way that outputs of energy, momentum, or signals are returned to their point of origin in a mechanical system.

I give feedback all the time. I get it less.

A few years ago a trusted friend and colleague admitted that they felt I was more secure in myself than I was when we first met.

"When we first met, I noticed you really liked to make sure everyone knew you were smart. You talked a lot and seemed like you had something to prove. Now, though, I've noticed that you listen more;you are reading the room, reading people, and using what you observe to dictate where you need to go."

Now this was the same colleague who used to begin a piece of criticism with, "Can I give you a piece of feedback I would want to receive if I were in your shoes?"

I loved getting feedback from this person because I always knew it was valuable, honest, and transparent. I also trust them implicitly. Like most people, though, I have a hard time with negative feedback. Yet the more I get it, the more I am able to look at my actions and essence through more evaluative eyes. And I've learned that seeking out feedback ("Can I get some honest feedback?") by asking a really specific questions allows my response to be more appropriate and easily integrated into my life.

As a teacher, on the other hand, the feedback I give tends to be grouped into three categories:

appreciation (thanks)

coaching (here's a better way to do it)

evaluation (here's where you stand)

In my students, I really try to provide all three forms of feedback. In myself, however, I don't usually take the time to reflect deeply and provide feedback to myself. I under appreciate my own accomplishments, I charge forward without reflecting on how to better do something next time, and I don't pause to see where I stand.

But it's that last one that I've focused on in this season of life. I've always cared about how I am perceived (probably to an unhealthy level), but recently I have shifted my self-evaluation to ask,

"What am I missing?"
"Where are my blind spots?"

Now, I've written about these things before, but it's really transformed my own understanding of myself and my students.

In the life of a school, everyone puts out energy, rides varying waves of momentum, and signals are sent and received by the thousand.

Yet when we allow for reflection and take all that energy, momentum, and those signals and invite them to return to their point of origin in the mechanical system that is our brain/hearts (I never can figure out how to distinguish between the two), we enable real growth.

This week I am trying to hold more space for my students. To allow their feedback to dictate the assignments I create, the discussion we have, and the ways I am evaluating and coaching them.

Today we created wild and complicated equations for leadership.

One group believed...

Success as a leader = (GOOD ideas + execution)(confidence/fear)

and execution was

(resources x persuasion) motivation + commitment

It was really fun.

They liked it.

But the reality was, I'd had something else planned. I'd wanted to delve into the writings of some great historical leaders and use their primary sources as a foundation...

but the feedback I was getting from my students was clear:

They were still thinking about the math test they'd just taken and incorporating the element of equations into leadership was what they needed. The energy and momentum would have come to a jolting stop if I hadn't listened to the signals...

Mr. McDonough, here's where we stand.


Here's to listening to the feedback of the world around us.