Chapter 11: “They never had a kids’ table.”
Anita isn’t a teacher. She’s not a former student. But she was on my short list of must-visit people.
Five years before my trip, a student I taught in 7th and 8th grade named Camille, insisted that I meet Anita. “You two will bond.”
Along with her business partner and friend, Rei Wang, we met for coffee at the Ferry Building in San Francisco. Camille was right. In about six seconds, the three of us were linked.
After exiting high tech work, Anita and Rei formed a coaching practice called The Grand World. When they asked me to speak at one of their initial events, I was honored.
Our connection grew, but life happens. Anita married Raheem, had Zayla (Brave) and Zarene (Golden), and moved from SF to Milwaukee. Rei moved to LA. She’s pregnant!
I was staying in a downtown Chicago hotel when I learned that Milwaukee was just 90 minutes north.
Hotel laundries and I weren’t getting along. Their machines were too often busy or busted. Once someone took one of my favorite ten dollar t-shirts. So, when I arrived at the front door of Anita’s lovely Wisconsin home, I asked her if I could get my laundry basket from my car. It says a lot when the first time you visit someone’s home you feel comfortable asking if it would be okay to do your laundry.
But that’s one reason why she was on my must-visit list. Not because I knew she’d let me wash my clothes at her house. But because I didn’t feel weird asking her that.
I had met Raheem only once, and this was my first time meeting Zayla and Zarene. Yet I felt so comfortably close to them that it was hard to say goodbye.
My original plan with My Vital Lesson was to ask teachers, "What lesson do you most want your students to learn, and how do you teach it?” But during the drive, largely because of Anita, I’ve expanded my definition of “teacher.” No, Anita, isn’t a school teacher, but she is most definitely a teacher.
See for yourself.
In just two minutes, Anita imparted three tremendous, life-improving lessons.
The title of this chapter. I asked Anita to objectively tell me why she’s so wise. “How did you get to be such a fabulous listener and wonderful conversationalist? (Not to mention terrific all-around person) Did you somehow learn it? Can it be taught?”
When we would have family holiday gatherings at a relative’s home, my daughter Kyrra despised being seated at the “kids’ table,” especially when she no longer considered herself a kid. (Which for her, I think, was when she turned 10!) So when Anita said she never had to do that, I felt bad.
A common theme of the My Vital Lesson project is that kids can do and handle way more than we give them credit for. Why not include them in many (but maybe not all) adult convos? They’re probably listening anyway. So why not ask them what they think?
It’s condescending not to. And just like there are very few kid-only books and kid-only lessons, there should be very few kid-only conversations. They’re just conversations, and kids can learn from and contribute to them.
Curiosity. If I could choose one trait I’d most want my students to have, it would be either this or be great listeners.
They’re related. The best listeners listen because they are curious. They really want to listen. They’re not just faking it to impress or because someone told them, “Be a good listener!”
I’m not a genius at teaching kids how to be curious, though. I think you try to be engaging. With some guidance, let them explore their interests. Encourage curiosity. Praise it. But it might have to come from within. I’m pretty sure that it’s innate. It just seems more innate in some!
I tell kids this: “Curious people are attractive, rarely bored or boring, and tend to live interesting, happier lives. Aspire to be curious.” But I worry that only the curious ones listen.
Human connection. For overall well-being, happiness, and fulfillment, the holy grail used to be a mystery. It’s not now. Study after study, including my favorite, this one, show that we desperately need warm, spirit-enhancing relationships. We must spend time leaning how how to get them.
Perhaps born from my insecurities, a big part of my teaching has been to incorporate what I originally called “guest speakers” into my lessons. Over the years, I’ve had hundreds and hundreds of interesting people visit my class.
When I taught 7th and 8th graders, especially struggling summer school students, I’d invite anyone whom I thought could motivate them and show them what was possible — primarily high-achieving, accomplished older students who could show them how to succeed in school (and out).
When I taught psychology (with little formal background in the subject) I assigned students with the task of bringing in either the “happiest” or “most successful” person they knew (as per their definition of “happy” and “successful”). The speakers’ job was to show us how we might become happier and/or more successful.
One year, two female P.E. teachers, Candy and Meg, volunteered me to coach the girls’ volleyball team. I had never played on a volleyball team and barely knew the rules! And I had never coached girls. I was so under-qualified. So, heeding Candy and Meg’s suggestion, I asked my two best players, Charlin and Janice, to be player-coaches. I was the administrator and they became the team’s true teachers.
When I taught government and economics (two more subjects with which I had little formal background), I again required my kids to find what I now call “guest teachers.” For government, they could invite a civil servant— the animal control officer was surprisingly interesting and cool — or an elected official. We had school board members, county supervisors, mayors, city council members, state senators, and several U.S.Congress members come to class. For economics, students had to find either a college-level economics professor, a “successful” entrepreneur, or a self-made millionaire into our classroom.
The vast majority of our guest teachers were not traditional teachers. But so many were, without doubt, strong, impactful teachers. I insisted that my students’ guest teachers had to have good answers to “the three questions”:
Who are you?
What have you done?
Why should I listen to you?
In other words, guest teachers had to be credible.
Lots of times, I didn’t think I was. I wasn’t a volleyball player, psychologist, economist, or entrepreneur. I had never even run for office, let alone get elected. Hence, my insecurity.
“The ‘three questions’ lesson works two ways,” I still remind students. “I want you to look for strong qualifications and high credibility in those teaching and advising you. But don’t forget, bright people will someday look for those in you, too.”
With very few exceptions, our guest teachers had great answers to the three questions. Some so overwhelmingly great that they made up for any instructional deficiencies. One entrepreneur wasn’t the most dynamic speaker. My kids were losing focus. So I interrupted him for a moment to ask him why he had been able to do spend the last three years doing “a little consulting and some volunteer work.”
“How much were you able to sell your company for?” I asked.
“Mr. Richards, I don’t normally disclose that, but here in this educational setting I will. We sold the company for a little over $260 million.”
“And how much of that went to you?”
“At the time of sale, I owned 60% of the company.”
I had my students do the math. Suddenly they were all ears.
I learned so much from our guest teachers. I became a better teacher because of what they taught my students.
So, why not have non-teacher teachers like Anita share their vital lessons? In the future, I’m going to do it more.
Thanks, Anita.
Lessons from Anita
Avoid having a kids’ table. Be smart about it, but include the kids in “adult” discussions. They can handle it.
Curiosity is magical. Keep it in yourself. Encourage it in others. It needs to go viral.
Connection is the holy grail. Warm relationships = better life.
Impactful teachers can be anyone with great answers to “The Three Questions.”
