My professional endeavours have been diverse. I have worked professionally as a chef and an artist, and now I am moving into teaching. Though disparate in some ways, these varying professions also share many similarities. One of the most important similarities is other people's needs within the state of practice.
As a chef, I believe the dishwasher is the most important worker in the kitchen. Without them, the entire production comes to a halt, and pans and plateware are needed.
As a glassblower, I can do many things alone, but for the genuine intricacies, a partner is required. Further, as an artist, nothing is more valuable than the critique of peers when determining how one's own art functions in front of an audience.
To be frank, I have always struggled to gather peer feedback. Not because I fear it. I value the thoughts of my peers very deeply! The struggle attends the way that I learned as a child. I grew up without siblings and was homeschooled for most of middle school. I inherently learned how to do things alone and rely on myself. In adulthood, though, the importance of critical friends has surfaced and been a burgeoning light on my horizon. Feeling that I am not alone in my decisions and that there is support makes the world kinder.
Critical peers are valuable because they help me remove myself from the action and observe my own routines and intricacies in the third person.
During my third practicum with the U of C, I had a day when my partner teacher was away for one of our larger classes. A peer teacher in the school came to supervise and offered to sit off to the side and observe. This experience was one of the first times I had been alone with full onus in that classroom. It went off the walls! The kids challenged me; they pulled me in every direction. My artist and chef side came forward; in an art class like that, the center of making pulls me in, and the surrounding world starts to fade. My peer teacher who observed provided me with exceptional feedback.
It was like drinking water out of a firehose, but having that external perspective allowed me to adjust my classroom management significantly. In the days following, I began to realize my teacher's voice. I recognized my need to step away from the center of the classroom and observe it to identify students who needed aid.
Without that peer intervention, I may not have learned from that failure.
We learn most from failure, but sometimes, we need those extra eyes to help us understand why we failed or struggled in the first place. As such, though I am timid about initial relationships, I am always excited to delve into meaningful, critical friendships. These are some of the social joys of being human: we can tell meaningful stories to each other and belong.
