Risks and rewards: Moving past the single story

One powerful statement during a parent-teacher conference revealed the dangers of single stories. The moments that followed illustrate the importance of listening, sharing stories, and seeking to understand one another in building strong relationships with families.

It’s a scene that will always remain etched in my memory: a parent, eyes burning intently into mine, sitting across from me at the parent-teacher conference table, saying, “But I understand you’re really here to just ‘take these kids down a peg.’”

As a new gifted intervention specialist (GIS), so excited about supporting and encouraging gifted learners, the comment cut straight to my heart. It literally took my breath away. I am pretty sure my jaw dropped and I simply stared for a moment. The parent’s statement was the exact opposite of why I was in this new role.

How did this happen?

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie shares a powerful TED Talk called “The Danger of the Single Story.” Her message is vitally important for all of us, because far too often we can take the story we know and draw all kinds of conclusions from it, many of which are inaccurate. Because the single story is incomplete, it can become dangerous in its limitations.

In the instance of that harrowing parent-teacher conference, the parent had come to the conference knowing a single story. In the story the parent believed, the gaps had been filled with her perceptions of the truth, and the result was the explosive comment made in the conference.

In the moments following the statement, I gathered my scattered thoughts and spoke to the parent about the goals and purposes of the program. We were using a new-to-us model for gifted services. I thought my coordinator and I had made the format and purposes clear, but this parent’s statement suggested otherwise. It was painfully obvious that the parent had drawn her own conclusions. When the facts weren’t clear, she pieced together what she could to develop her own narrative.

Imagine, though, what could have unfolded had the parent not shared her single story. Had she kept quiet, what ultimately became a terrific parent-teacher partnership may never have had the opportunity to develop. Instead, we could have spent the next two and a half years in a state of distrust — dreading every email, phone call, and face-to-face interaction. Only by listening to each other’s stories were we able to piece together the whole story, trusting one another, and building a partnership. 

This kind of situation isn’t limited to individual programs or school buildings. When information isn’t easily accessible or understood, it is far too easy to create a story based on the bits and pieces that are known. In general, people want to know and understand the whole story. Having just bits and pieces can be unsatisfying and even uncomfortable. When something is incomplete, we look for the information we need to give us the whole story.

Sharing our stories

As a profession, we have never felt more unappreciated, more “under fire,” as it were, than in recent years. It’s natural to want to take a defensive posture. After all, it feels safest for us to do what we know and do best: go into our classrooms, close our doors, and teach our students.

Sharing our experiences and perspectives is risky. What if something we do flies in the face of what someone else is saying we should do? What if someone criticizes us? What if something we say or write prompts someone to question our professional knowledge and integrity?

Simply put, as Ann Byrd calls us to do in her launch post, we must share our stories of impact.  When we don’t share our perspectives, the story that develops without our knowledge and understanding will always be incomplete; a single story. If we don’t share our stories, we leave information gaps, and those gaps may or may not be filled with accurate details.

Our silence is riskier than our speaking and writing.

Seeking to understand

Sharing our stories also means we need to listen to others’ narratives. In order to develop a full, complete picture, we need all perspectives, as Adichie points out in her talk. Think about the times when we, as educators, observe particular behaviors in a student and draw conclusions about what is going on, only to learn later that our conclusions were inaccurate.

We learn through our training and experiences that we can’t rely on a single data point or behavior incident. We need to gather information, make observations, and talk with others to get as full and complete a picture as possible. In order to truly understand each other, we cannot rely on the single story.

Breaking the single story

We cannot wait for someone else to share our stories.

We know what is working in our classrooms. We see faces light up when they understand a new concept or master a new skill.

We also know the struggles we face on a daily basis. We know the strategies and interventions we’ve tried, what’s worked, and what hasn’t. As a result, we know what we need to try next in order to move our students forward in their learning.

As educators, we have both the privilege and responsibility of sharing our stories, so that others can add our stories to their own. In those pivotal moments in that painful parent-teacher conference, I not only heard the frustration in the parent’s story, but I also took the opportunity to share my own perspective, including my plans and goals for the students and the gifted program. By opening that two-way communication, the parent and I started down a path that grew into mutual respect and a partnership that benefited not only the student, but us as well.

It was a lesson in the power of listening and the importance of speaking, one that I have continued to remember and use in my daily interactions with students, parents, and colleagues.

Only by sharing our stories can we avoid the dangers of being silent.