Having spent 30 years passionately working in education and publishing, I am appalled at my capacity to succumb to the seduction of technology, and the self-inflicted embarrassment I suffer as a result.
My personal library is home to hundreds of articles and books I have either authored, commissioned or edited. It houses wonderful works by colleagues I have taught, coached and mentored. I value each piece, and feel blessed that in some small way I contributed to each author’s message. I consider these works as part of my story too, because they demonstrate the evolution of my calling from teacher to educationist, and educationist to agitator.
My email account, on the other hand, is home to atrocious spelling and grammatical errors. They live, I am sorry to say, not in my draft file or inbox, but in my sent file. I send emails to a diverse range of professional people, whom I respect immensely. To insult them with my poor spelling is bad enough, but to think they might consider me complacent or incompetent is worse – particularly given the work I do.
To read, comprehend, and produce English – the most widely recognised language on the planet – is an accomplishment we simply cannot take for granted. Whether it’s chalk on slate, pen on paper, or fingers on keyboards, with every recorded word we are the authors of our lives, shaping how others view us and, as I have learned, how we view ourselves.
Every day I face the challenge of empowering fellow educationists to see themselves as leaders in the acquisition of the English language. I constantly adapt my suite of tools to improve my performance, and to nudge, energise and encourage teachers to be the risk takers we expect our students to be.
I’ve learned so much, over so many years, that there’s no excuse for my poor use of English in emails. The over-emphasis on technology – in my life, in schools, and in all our lives – has also taught me a great deal.
Here are the top five lessons I’ve learned.
- Use keyboards just like quill and ink. They are tools for writing. How they are used and respected depends on the writer. Keyboards can be turned off, just as the quill can be put down.
- Respect every email you receive. Take time to provide a considered response. If you don’t have time, don’t hit the send button.
- Poor conventions affect how a message is comprehended. Your readers will always infer something. So be kind to yourself. Do more with less, and be sure the inferences made are focussed on your intended message rather than conventional error.
- Embrace your partnership with the English language. See it as your pathway to stronger relationships.
- Be willing to learn and, more importantly, be willing to know nothing. Stand in the same shoes as your students, your readers, your peers, and your motivators.
The true value of the written word is to learn from the genius of great authors. Imagine if Socrates, Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, Ralph Waldo Emerson, or Sigmund Freud, scribed illegible, misspelled and poorly constructed manuscripts. Would their provocative and life changing messages have missed the mark?
‘Genius’, in its purest meaning, is the natural, innate, creative ability each one of us possesses. Whatever our own unique brand of ‘genius’, whatever our individual insights or contributions, we owe it to ourselves, and to those who read what we offer, that the written expressions of it are the best they can be.
Docendo disco scribendo cogito – Latin for “I learn by teaching, think by writing” – is my professional creed. So if I am to carry the title of ‘educationist’, then I must not be seduced into poor practices, or take refuge in equally poor excuses: less time; 21st century blended learning; technological advancement; or work overload. No, I must be the example of what I value most – to understand and to be understood.
Cheryl Lacey is the principal educationist at The Dialogue Group International, where education design provides everything you need to accelerate your organisation’s purpose, productivity and performance. Learn more at www.thedialoguegroup.com
© Cheryl Lacey 2016, All rights reserved
