As a middle school teacher, I am sometimes asked by parents to complete a form for their child's doctor or for a private school application. A few months back, I received an email from the parents of one of my students, whom I'll call David, asking if I could fill out a form for them.
I make it a practice to begin any communication to parents with a positive statement about their child. In my emailed response, I began by stating that David was a very capable student, and went on to agree to complete the form. It wasn't until sometime later that I realized that the email had come from the parents of the David I teach in the morning, not the David I teach in the afternoon, a completely different student.
The David I teach in the morning had almost never said a word in class. His work had been a bit less high-quality than the class average. I really didn't know him well. In contrast, the David I teach in the afternoon is animated and quick, with an enthusiasm that sometimes pushes him over the edge into unacceptable behavior, such as calling out or interrupting others. I was appalled that I had not realized which parents I'd been emailing, but it was too late to call back the email. At least, I thought, it had been generic enough that no confidences had been breached.
Sometime later, I noticed a change in Morning David. His hand started coming up in class. He started meeting my eye.
His work began to improve. He got a couple of A's. He did some extra credit work. He rose above the middle of the pack. He seemed confident.
This has continued all year. Morning David is lit up. He is a changed student from the boy I knew at the time of the email. And I don't know if my stating to his parents that he was very capable was what did it. But it seems so. It seems as if, by showing my confidence in him, I severed the cord that was holding him back.
If I had known which David I was talking about in my original email, I never would have stated what I had about Morning David. I write these positive comments, about students who are doing less than high-quality work, all the time. I would have said, "David is a shy and friendly boy," or "David works hard." But never, "David is very capable."
Could it be true, that a casually-stated affirmation of confidence from a teacher could have so much power?
