teachers who want to become better at their craft. At a
certain point, I ask them to write brief descriptions of two
recent moments in the classroom: a moment when things
went so well that you knew you were born to be a teacher
and a moment when things went so poorly that you wished
you had never been born!
Then we get into small groups to learn more about our
own natures through the two cases. First, I ask people to
help each other identify the gifts that they possess that made
the good moment possible. It is an affirming experience to
see our gifts at work in a real-life situation-and it often takes
the eyes of others to help us see. Our strongest gifts are
usually those we are barely aware of possessing. They are a
part of our Godgiven nature, with us from the moment we
drew first breath, and we are no more conscious of having
them than we are of breathing.
Then we turn to the second case. Having been bathed
with praise in the first case, people now expect to be
subjected to analysis, critique, and a variety of fixes: "If I
had been in your shoes, I would have ... ," or, "Next time
you are in a situation like that, why don't you ... ?" But I ask
them to avoid that approach. I ask them instead to help each
other see how limitations and liabilities are the flip side of
our gifts, how a particular weakness is the inevitable trade-
off for a particular strength. We will become better teachers
not by trying to fill the potholes in our souls but by knowing
them so well that we can avoid falling into them.