I had a blind spot, and their feedback made me a better educator.

“Imma go out with my friends.”

It’s so painful.

Something inside this former English teacher dies when “I am going to” becomes “imma,” but such is life on the family chat when you have a 19-year-old university student at home.

I know he’s capable of better. I remember his brilliant creative writing, delivered in elegant handwriting as far back as sixth grade. But our young man speaks and texts in the language of his people. If you’re a parent, you know how this goes.

It’s news to no one that the grammar ship sailed from our text threads long ago, if it was ever there to begin with. As educators, we can still pat ourselves on the back, though.

After all, our speech and written communication holds to the highest standards of English, especially in professional contexts. Right?

Cornered by colleagues

Years ago, I was teaching a group of 25 high school students from Hong Kong. They were on a short summer exchange. Their mission was to learn about Canadian culture, enjoy Vancouver’s natural beauty, and brush up on their English.

The typical shape of each day looked like classes in the morning, excursions in the afternoon. We were a few days into the program, and both pieces seemed to be going well.

A couple of teachers from Hong Kong had accompanied these students to Vancouver as chaperones. They were friendly, professional, and it was interesting to compare notes on our teaching experiences.

One morning, our two international colleagues pulled me and my partner aside during a break. They were clearly concerned about something.

“Please speak to our students using proper English,” they asked politely.

Mortified, we asked what we were saying incorrectly.

“Gonna” was the response.

Humbled, I realized they were right. It was true. Gonna was everywhere in my speech.

As in: “Okay, class, we’re gonna take a five-minute break.”

Apologetically, we pledged to stick closely to “going to” from that point on. I hope we delivered, but I can’t be 100% certain.

Old habits are hard to break.

Letting down my learners

“Gonna” is one of the most pervasive forms of slang in North America. If you listen closely, you’ll hear it everywhere.

You’ll hear it from educators, yes. But you’ll also hear it from politicians. You’ll hear it on the news. You’ll hear it from professors. So we know we’re not alone in this grammatical goof.

Still, it’s ugly. It’s right there with “Imma.”

No doubt my high school students from Hong Kong had paid decent money to be taught by native English speakers. Educators who knew the language well. English majors, even. And I was all of those things.

But there I was, at the front of that UBC classroom, butchering my native language in front of students who knew its rules inside and out. And I didn’t even know I was doing it.

Ouch.

We all need critical friends

When I replay this story, the thing I appreciate is that our Hong Kong colleagues had the courage to confront us. They did so quietly, discreetly, and respectfully. They did so after we had built a professional relationship.

But they told it like it was. They let us know that we weren’t meeting the standard that their students expected and the program demanded.

Our zippers were down, so to speak. And it took fellow educators from another context to let us know.

Kind candor creates healthy culture

Candor is tough. Being a critical friend feels scary. It’s much easier to be quiet, nice, and agreeable.

As Sonja Pullen reminded me, Brene Brown has a great quote that fits well here: “Failure can become our most powerful path to learning if we’re willing to choose courage over comfort.”

My Hong Kong colleagues chose courage that summer, and I was a better instructor for it.

And no, the takeaway here is not to run around the halls of your building pointing out every observable flaw. Ha! We have enough planks in our own eyes to hunt for specks in others.

But sometimes, when the relationship is there, the intention is right, and the problem is real, your gentle critique can be precisely the thing that your fellow educator needs.

We all want to do better and be better. Growth feels good, after all. Sometimes, we really do just need to be told where and how.

And that’s a lesson for every professional educator.

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I guess this post opens me up to a raft of fresh critique from my current colleagues. I’m ready!