It’s the time of year when the days are short and often gray, and I want to curl up in some blankets and watch reality TV without having to think very hard.
Lately, my comfort show has been Hell’s Kitchen, Gordon Ramsay’s famous cooking TV show that brings 18 hopeful chefs into competition and eliminates them until one emerges as the victor.
Throughout individual and team challenges, their skills, resilience, and commitment are put to the test over and over again.
Ramsay is famous for his “tough love” approach to doling out hard truths to the would-be top chefs.
His profanity-laden rants and outbursts are a crucial part of the show’s ethos, and the participants quake with fear of being the next target.
Because my work is never far from my mind — even when I’m supposed to be cocooning on the couch — the show has been making me reflect on the nature of teaching and the tension I’ve come up against with my teaching philosophy throughout my career.
"How will they ever learn?"
I’ve been told over and over and over again that I’m not tough enough on students (which is interesting because my students have often remarked that my classes and assignments make them feel very challenged.) This happens to me far less now that I’ve found my place in the secular homeschooling community, but when I used to teach in brick and mortar schools (especially when I primarily taught minority and “at-risk” students), I was frequently berated for not taking a tougher approach.
For example, I had colleagues at the community college who would lock their doors at 8:00am and tell any student that came even one minute late that they weren’t allowed in and that it would count as an absence. Many of them also had policies that failed a student after 4 or 5 absences.
When I told students about my policies, I said, “I want you here on time because you’ll get the most out of it, but most of all, I want you here. If there are only five minutes left of class, still come in the door. This is your class, and you should be here as much as you can.”
This approach often drew rolled eyes from more seasoned professors who told me I’d learn soon enough. Likewise, I was scoffed at when I revealed my grading policy that allowed multiple revisions and only took the top score.
“How will they ever learn?” I’ve heard more often than once or twice.
I stayed firm, though, and the proof was in the outcomes. Students did show up, and they did learn, and they did work, and I didn’t have to use fear as a tactic.
Is there a place for fear in learning?
Obviously, Chef Ramsay is playing a persona for a TV show that’s been carefully edited for entertainment value. I, on the other hand, am not.
Still, watching the show made me think a lot about the role of teaching. While it’s much less GIF-able, Ramsay is frequently “soft” with his hopeful proteges. He encourages them, tells them to never give up, and even tears up during some eliminations.
Even for someone whose entire brand is built off being the meanest of the mean, teaching requires genuine care, patience, and kindness.
So why all the fear? Does it ever have a place in learning?
We don't want to "break" our students
The thing that stands out the most for me is the response that the participants give when Ramsay brings them up for potential elimination and asks them why they deserve a second (or third or fourth) chance. The answers are always variations on the same basic responses:
- I’ve come too far to give up now.
- This is all I’ve ever dreamed of, and I know I can do it.
- I lost my confidence for a moment, but it’s back now. It will never happen again.
Think about who the chefs on the show represent: experts who have clawed their way to the top, who already have confidence and experience on their side, who are vying for one of the most coveted and competitive positions.
That’s not who our learners are (or at least that’s not who I am teaching). They’re not already experts who have gotten the chance to grow their confidence and put down roots in the subject. They’re sometimes terrified of failure and ready to give up if they sense it coming. They don’t always have a set of past successful experiences to draw from.
Most importantly, the role of a classroom isn’t to break the students and find the best among them. The role of the classroom is to give each and every individual the tools to be their best.
Fear doesn’t belong.
Support and trust are the foundations of learning
Learners don’t need to hear that they’re a disappointment or that they’re not as good as someone else. They don’t need to frame their personal growth as a competition. They don’t need “tough love” to succeed.
A reality show about the conditions for real growth and support for learners in their earliest stages probably wouldn’t be very popular.
It’s often a slow, plodding walk that makes space for reflection and detours. Encouragement, patience, and flexibility aren’t very flashy, but they’re the bedrock of successful educational beginnings that give learners the confidence to do anything — including withstanding “tough love” situations once they’ve gained their expertise.
