Inventors understand that early prototypes inform them best about what doesn't work rather than what does. But what about when prototypes are people? It's difficult for me not to feel guilty about the mistakes I made with students' education in my first few years. In the same way, as a third-year coach, I find myself reflecting on my missteps with the first set of teachers that I collaborated with as I was figuring out who I was as a coach.

Looking back I can see how the way I described coaching to teachers to open doors, sounded a lot like an adult recess:

"You'll come into my room and co-plan this unit with me?"

"You'll demonstrate a lesson during my toughest time of the day that I get to watch?"

"Sign me up!"

They opened up their doors and I was welcome to co-plan, support and demonstrate my heart out. In room 5, the teacher kept asking me to co-plan with each new unit, but wasn't interested in incorporating some high yield strategies. In room 9, the teacher was happy to watch my demonstrations, but was not interested in changing anything to increase student engagement. With sustainability and improving student learning as the goals for our coaching program, I realized that inevitably teachers needed to take on the work. The true measure of sustainability in coaching would be evidenced much later when teachers responded to the question, "How has coaching improved student learning?"

The following are two vignettes that depict coaching cycles that informed me about what was not working. Ms. Chisholm and Mrs. Shelby were my prototypes who helped me re-invent our working relationship.

Not Taking on the Work: Too Much, Too Soon

Ms. Chisholm was a second-year teacher. In her vibrant way, she explained to me how she was already burning out and she wanted to be able to stay in the profession.

"My students won't write anything original and won't sustain for any amount of time."

During my first observation, I watched her talk and model for the students for 27 of the 30 minutes she had set aside for writing instruction. The last three minutes she asked them to hurry and get something down. They were passive and silent for the first 15 minutes, transitioning to squirmy and off-task for the second part of the lesson.

At the debrief I asked her, "What is your goal for the writing time?"

"I want students to write and love writing."

"And do you want them talking about their writing with each other?" I asked.

"If they could actually stay on topic, that would be great. I think they'll just fool around though."

My next step was to demonstrate a lesson to increase student talk and accountability. With my background in cooperative learning, I had them do a rally robin, a timed-pair share and stand-up, hand-up, pair-up. Responding quickly to my quiet signal, they were engaged, excited writers for 30 minutes. At her planning time she shared how "into it" the kids were and how they'd written more than she'd ever seen them write. So I was confused when she said, "Let me get back to you on when we can do the next step." Several email exchanges later, we had a date, then she cancelled because she was overwhelmed. Later she had stopped doing writing because of the science unit. Once I arrived and found a guest teacher. She showed me the plans that said, "Heather will be there at 10:00 and she may want to teach a lesson."

Why was she resisting coaching when we'd just barely gotten started?

Not Taking on the Work: Comparison-itis

Mrs. Shelby and I were the same age and had been teaching the same number of years. She was very open to coaching because, as she put it, "I can always tweak what I'm doing." When she talked about her practice, she wasn't very enthusiastic. There were so many students with IEPs, so many "ADHDers" and so many with absent parents she really didn't expect much from these kids.

"Like you after 13 years, we have our reality glasses on," she explained. I wasn't sure I had been issued the same pair of reality glasses because I still lived in the land of possibility, but I listened to her views.

At the time of my observation, Mrs. Shelby walked in after lunch and wrote three assignments on the board and said to the students, "Work together and get it done." Then she walked from group to group. She spent ten minutes with one struggling student going over spelling errors in his essay, while the other students were getting louder and more inappropriate.

"Do you see what I mean about the kids?" she asked during the debrief.

"I see you are working very hard," I told her, "I wonder if the kids could learn some structures that would help them be more independent?"

"I'd love to see you try," she challenged.

You know how the rest of this story goes, don't you? Every step of the cycle she compared my work to hers.

"They only listen and do what you ask because you are new. Just wait a couple weeks and they'll be running all over you. I got the same thing the first week of school," she challenged.

"I decided at the last minute not to use that strategy we talked about. By the end of your lesson, I don't think they got anything different out of it than they get out of one of mine," she justified.

Why couldn't she get past the comparisons to see the changes in student learning?

My Self-Analysis

What was the common element in both of these scenarios? Me. Just as I want teachers to look at difficult content or hard-to-reach students and say, "What could I do differently?" I must do the same as a coach. The only behaviors I can change are my own.

Ms. Chisholm was feeling burned out. She told me so. My intention was to show her what was possible; her students were indeed more capable as writers than she had ever imagined. My heart may have been in the right place, but my demonstration focus was not. Connecting to my real life experience of learning Samba, I know what would've happened if the choreographers demonstrated a routine that was way beyond my ability: I wouldn't have gone back. Neither did Ms. Chisholm. With Ms. Chisholm I needed to ask myself, "Where is this teacher's zone of proximal development? In other words, what can she do next that is close to what she's doing now?"

Ms. Shelby wanted to see me fail where she saw herself failing, and rationalized the reasons for my successes. With me as her focus, she couldn't begin to reflect on herself. She needed a coach to turn her away from the comparisons and toward the evidence of student work. What she needed to hear repeatedly was, "What can students know and do as a result of this lesson?"(I learned this from Uber Coach Katherine Casey.)

Flip-Flopping

Luckily I'm not a politician and no one chastises me for being a flip-flopper. With both Ms. Chisholm and Mrs. Shelby, even though we were headed down the wrong path, I was able to reinvent myself and get us back on track.

My flip-flop with Ms. Chisholm:

Me: I made a mistake with that lesson that I demonstrated. I put way too many structures into the lesson. I got excited about working with your writers and I need to back-up and have us just pick one small piece to work on together. This is new to me too. Would you be willing to let me try again?

Ms. Chisholm: I didn't think you made a mistake. I just thought I'd never be able to do what you can do. You are a '4' on the rubric and it makes me look like a '1.'

My flip-flop with Mrs. Shelby:

Me: I've been feeling uncomfortable with the amount of talking we're doing about my teaching instead of what the students are doing and I think I've gotten us off track. How about during tomorrow's lesson, we'll give the students an exit slip to evaluate their own learning and we'll look at that to plan the focus for the following day?

Mrs. Shelby: You know, now that it's been a couple weeks since you've been here, I've had some time to think about what you were demonstrating. I originally thought coaching was about giving me pointers about what to do better and that probably made me feel defensive. Getting to know you, I've been able to see that you're not like that. I think there are probably a couple things I could change.

On the Right Foot

Learning from Ms. Chisholm and Mrs. Shelby, I have a different way that I introduce the idea of coaching to teachers. It doesn't sound like plain recess anymore; it sounds like the fascinating, fun, challenging work that it is. I recently started a new coaching cycle with Mr. Mathews and shared my philosophy:

What I want you to know is that in each step of the cycle, we both have a responsibility. Sometimes it is more me and sometimes it is more you. At some point I may encourage you to try something that could feel different or uncomfortable, but I'm not going to ask you to do something without supporting you. At some point you may ask me to do something uncomfortable. You are the expert on these learners and I am not; I need your permission to make mistakes in front of you too. If we both give time and honesty to this process, I've found over and over that it is truly a rewarding experience of collaboration.

And you know what he said?

Let's get started.

Heather Rader is a writer and teacher who has landed her dream job as an instructional specialist for North Thurston Public Schools in Washington State. She's taught all grades K-6 and now enjoys teaching adults and collaborating as an instructional coach. Her motto is "stay curious" for all that life has to offer.