By settling for safety, we miss out on certain growth and learning.
“Fear is always triggered by creativity, because creativity asks you to enter into realms of uncertain outcome. This is nothing to be ashamed of. It is, however, something to be dealt with.” — Elizabeth Gilbert
At the outset of the new year, AJ Juliani issued a challenge to the education world: blog — or engage in blogging activities — for thirty days.
His call was a welcome one. Research has long been telling us that our students learn best when they are given the time, tools, and opportunity to reflect thoughtfully on their own learning journeys. In Leaders of Their Own Learning, Ron Berger calls this sort of metacognitive activity “writing to learn.”
The same principle applies for educators.
Writing to Learn and Learning to Write
The more we speak, write, tweet, vlog, and publish about our learning and professional practice, the more we will learn, grow, and develop as educators. And as we make our own learning visible, others benefit and grow as well.
John Hattie talks about the power of collective efficacy. Stephen Covey calls it win-win. Simply put, we’re better together.
Our professional growth isn’t just about reading and listening to the established voices in education. It’s also about sharing and contributing our own experiences.
So, as passionate educators, why don’t we participate in the global conversation more than we do?
It’s Not Really About Time
The typical response says we don’t have enough time in the week. But for most, that’s not actually the case. As Laura Vanderkam demonstrates convincingly in 168 Hours: You Have More Time Than You Think, most of us actually do have the time.
When you get right down to it, most of us aren’t hitting ‘Publish’ for one reason: fear.
We fear embarrassment. Rejection. Crickets.
We assume that our voice doesn’t matter. That no one will pay attention. Or worse yet, that we’ll be exposed as an imposter.
As Elizabeth Gilbert points out, most of us don’t publish creatively because the outcome is uncertain. There’s just no guarantee of success — whatever success means.
So we take the safe option.
The Power of Practice
But people who aren’t publishing are overlooking an absolute guarantee: improvement.
That’s right, I said it. When you create content consistently over time, your growth and improvement is guaranteed. You can’t help but get better.
In Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell makes the case that repetition is highly underrated. He tells story after story of individuals who simply put in the time on their craft to gradually become an expert in their space.
Earlier this year, I listened to a podcast featuring YouTuber Marques Brownlee, a soft-spoken, thoughtful, and charismatic tech reviewer. He talked about how he began publishing YouTube videos back in high school simply because he loved the medium and enjoyed the process. As he describes it, his first 100 videos were viewed by audiences of around 100 people.
Today, Brownlee’s videos earn millions of views apiece. He has 7.7M subscribers.
It’s not all about growing an audience. That’s not really my point, although the size of his growing viewership does speak to the value of his work.
What I’m more interested in is those first 100 videos. Just think about the sort of headspace he was in to continue creating.
As he puts it, he created content simply because he enjoyed it. The views and reactions were secondary.
And because he stuck with it, he’s obviously eclipsed Gladwell’s 10,000 hours. He’s become a master at his craft.
The Teachers on Fire Podcast
In March of 2018, I realized a long-held dream by launching a podcast for educators, Teachers on Fire. I didn’t really know what I was doing, and I had questions about everything from applications to equipment to guests.
It took a lot of work to get started, and it definitely wasn’t easy. My sound quality was awful at the beginning, and I made a ton of unfortunate mistakes that made the process even more painful.
The interview for my very first episode took forever to complete because the recording app I was using crashed at least six times. It was a frustrating first experience.
Almost a year later, I still don’t have it all figured out. But I’m learning. I’m growing. I’m improving my craft. I’m miles and miles from where I started, and my conversations with education leaders are inspiring listeners around the world.
Consistent Content Creation is a Direct Line to Improvement
I don’t consider myself a skilled artist. But I have zero doubt in my mind that if I set aside three hours a weekend to learn and practice pencil drawing for 52 weeks, I would be a much better artist by year’s end.
Absolutely no doubt in my mind.
I’m convinced that the same holds true for any kind of creative publishing. Once we embark on the commitment of regular creation, improvement isn’t a question. It’s an absolute certainty.
And as we hone our creative skills, our contributions to the world around us become more valuable.
This is what I want my stepsons to know. My students to know. And you, fellow educator, to know.
We can lament our lack of creative skills. Or we can take action.