The Things We Carry

“No knowledge is ever wasted.”

That old saw has been rattling around in my brain lately. I’m not sure I’m 100% in agreement, especially given the alarming amount of cognitive real estate I seem to have deeded, in perpetuity, to the complete lyrics of The Rainforest Rap circa 1992.

But there’s definitely a seam of truth here, in that your past experiences, particularly if they were ingrained deeply and daily, can profoundly shape the way you approach the present.

I’ve been thinking about this because I teach a lot of adults. Adults, by definition, have accumulated a good chunk of life experience. They’ve honed skills, developed mindsets; their work, formal or informal, has molded them in ways that can be immensely helpful– or not. Or both!

And these things we carry –mindsets, processes, beliefs– are worth digging into, both within ourselves and in our students. Because when we understand how what we’ve done before shapes what we’re doing now, we’re better able to leverage what serves us– and let go of what doesn’t.

Here’s my own example.

For well over a decade, in addition to my work as a recorder player and teacher, I worked as a part-time Speech-Language Pathologist. Eventually, I needed more space for recorder teaching and had to leave my SLP life behind. But doing so was hard. I’d acquired so much knowledge, invested so much of myself. Had I been wasting my time all those years? How could I just up and leave all that work in the dust?

The truth is, of course, that I took it with me. That even as I was moving away from SLP life, it was leaving its mark.

Now, in my life as a full-time recorder teacher, I see the fingerprints of my years as an SLP everywhere. On the surface level, I use, on a near daily basis, my knowledge of things like oral anatomy and physiology, psychomotor learning, goal setting, task analysis, and scaffolding. And on a deeper level, I’m learning what those years have given me– and what I need to release.

Here’s what I treasure:

I love progress!

An an SLP, I facilitated, and celebrated, the progress of individuals with wildly varying capabilities. I learned that anyone –everyone– can make progress, and I learned how empowering that progress can be. As a consequence, I value progress in every recorder student at every level. No one’s learning, to me, is worth more than anyone else’s, and progress is exciting and rewarding wherever you are.

It’s not the student’s fault

When students don’t make progress, SLPs get curious. To an SLP, lack of progress is a puzzle to be rigorously analyzed and solved. If a student is not progressing, it is the SLP’s responsibility to change intervention and/or add support until they do. As a recorder teacher, I find this attitude extremely empowering. Rather than wasting time blaming the student or throwing up my hands, I can focus on how to help.

Individualize!

SLPs spend lots of time crafting blueprints for student progress that delineate each student’s individual strengths, weaknesses, challenges, and goals, with an emphasis on the uniqueness of every individual. As a recorder teacher, I’m always looking to tailor what I do to each student’s unique learning style, challenges, and strengths.

The learning never stops

For SLPs, the process of getting better at your job is never, ever, done. This is both part of the culture of the profession and a formal requirement: each SLP must earn a certain amount of continuing education credit each year. I am so grateful for this mindset, which allows me to approach my career with curiosity, eagerness, and a recognition that there are always, always ways in which I can improve.

And what am I working to leave behind?

I don’t need to serve every single student

As an SLP, you have a legal and ethical obligation to serve each and every eligible student who needs your services, even if your caseload is overwhelming. As a recorder teacher, I’m just in the beginning stages of learning that I can, in fact, say no.

I don’t need to be the perfect teacher for every person

In the same vein, SLPs have an obligation to serve a student whether or not that student’s particular needs match that SLP’s areas of competence or interest. It is only just occurring to me that, as a recorder teacher, I don’t actually have a moral obligation to be the best teacher for every single kind of student. I can look for students who share my approach and areas of interest. I can pass someone along if I think another teacher would be a better fit.

What are some things you are carrying forward from your past work? Which of those serve you? Which do not? Try writing it out– I bet you’ll learn something.