To learn is not to watch. To learn is to do. To fail and try again. To feel the cold water and the burning sun. To fish and not catch. To pitch a tent, use the fly as a ground tarp and to be “swimming” in your sleeping bag. This is learning.

I wrote this in the last article I posted back in May. Little did I recognize that two months later I would co-lead 17 teens on a three-week trip across Croatia and Slovenia. We hiked, biked, kayaked, white water rafted, zip lined, and camped. This WAS learning. Yet, as the days dwindled I found myself in contemplation about students perceived levels of comfort/discomfort, as well as perceived levels of effort. Seeing that many readers likely are beginning another academic year, I am hopeful this topic might push some buttons. Ones that lead to more green lights than red. Furthermore, I remind myself the role of resilience and how it doesn’t come from lessons or lectures. It’s forged in unfamiliar, uncomfortable situations where students learn to stretch themselves. Where we adults step back with intention, just enough to let growth happen. 

The Stones Taught What the Pages Couldn’t

I was eager to learn more about Croatia, so I ordered a book about its rich history. Though I would spend more than 20 hours in flight, I could not wait to crack the book and I began reading. However, instead of turning the page or pages, I began to jump from the front to the back and then to the parts in between. Never really reading and definitely not comprehending. The 300+ pages read more like an academic text than a travelogue. The myriad of places, dates, and civilizations of antiquity, too complex to follow. And my skipping all around certainly did not help either.

Yet this all would change. Being in the places, hearing tour guides share stories, and rubbing my hand across the 15th century Venetian stones would allow me to connect the dots. An example of learning by doing. In Hawaii, where I live, it is not uncommon to hear this in the proverb, “Ma ka hana ka ʻike.” A great reminder that from day one this year, I want my students to be doing. 

The Suitcase Won’t Fit — and That’s Okay

“There’s bugs!”

“My legs hurt.”

“There’s nowhere to put my suitcase in this tent.”

Two of three complaints uttered by the same student. Each met with compassion and the third with a bit of laughter. Yet, I remained poised enough to step back, but not out. Carefully determining when to intervene and when just to listen or observe. Avoiding the “rescue reflex,” and temptation to fix things quickly, what I found worked best was an honest, “I’m so sorry, can I help?”  

“No, I’m fine.”

To be heard was often what simply appeared to matter most. 

As the days turned to weeks, the complaints seemed to grow. There was especially a discomfort about not being able to control the little things in life. Like, when to wake up or what was for breakfast. And heaven forbid should we “three amigos” be split up in transport or at lunch! Some students even were comfortable to declare, “I may not be diagnosed (yet!) but I know I suffer from anxiety.” From experience I have seen an uptick in students (and adults) that have increased levels of anxiety. And research indicates how younger generations are more likely to report experiencing anxiety and other mental health conditions compared to previous generations. Yet, the word “anxiety” was being used three times as much as “please” and “thank you” and sometimes it felt as though the word ‘anxiety’ was being used more as a reflex than a reflection. Possibly as a shorthand for discomfort or loss of control.Such overuse diluting its clinical significance.

Effort and Reflection in the Classroom

So, coming back to the classroom. A little discomfort maybe is not a bad thing. It may just be  where growth begins. In Steven Kotler’s “The Rise of Superman” I recently read how “prodigies”, it seemed were made, not born. As Bloom (Benjamin Bloom, creator of Bloom’s Taxonomy), later told reporters, ‘We were looking for exceptional kids, but what we found were exceptional conditions.” I ask myself, what are those conditions? I hope to create them in my classroom this year.  

Routine reflection will certainly take hold. One that allows for close scrutiny of perceived levels of effort. Often attributed to baseball great, Derek Jeter, there is truth to the quote, “There may be people who have more talent than you, but there’s no excuse for anyone to work harder than you do.” Getting students to honestly reflect on how hard they are working is something I certainly endeavor. 

There is a definitive art to differentiation. Not everyone’s best efforts yield the same results. Taking the Delphic maxim of “To know thyself” one step further, teachers…Know thy students. 

Belief and Flow

Something else I want to consider is the important role of truly and fully believing in each student,  Kotler imparts, “When someone believes you can do the impossible, it opens the door to believing it yourself.” “I want to be the kind of teacher who believes so fully in each student that they begin to believe in themselves and not just because I understand the psychological principle and power of how external beliefs often precede internal beliefs, especially in young or developing minds.

Third, besides reflection and empowerment, is to consider what Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi termed “flow”. Flow being that state of deep focus and enjoyment where you are fully absorbed in what you are doing, and time seems to disappear.  I want to be intentional about encouraging deep focus, understanding how flow requires concentration and uninterrupted time on task. As well, I want to continue to balance challenge and skill. For flow is said to arise when the task is hard enough to be engaging, but not so hard that it may cause what some students possibly were feeling in Croatia, anxiety. Furthermore, project-based learning will be a cornerstone in my classroom, inviting student autonomy.  

With just a week before students arrive, I intentionally prepare, returning  to that simple truth: learning is not passive. It is often messy and at times, uncomfortable. But within that discomfort lies the space where growth happens. Kind of like the music being in the silence in between the notes. My role, then, is not to remove every obstacle, but to carefully create conditions where effort is expected, confidence in each student is unwavering, and where students can experience the deep satisfaction of flow. Whether in a classroom or on a trail in Croatia, the lesson holds: real learning happens not when we watch, but when we do. And this year, I’m ready to help my students do — and become — more than they thought possible.

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