The research of Carol Dweck, discussed at length later in this chapter, delves into the value of effort praise. Effort praise means lauding children for their hard work rather than their natural talent—“you must have worked very hard” versus “you must be very smart.” At best, students should not be compared to anyone but their former selves and they should be celebrated for growth over achievement the majority of the time.

In my current position as the library media specialist at a large urban middle school, I was not expecting to teach classes. It was meant to be more of a coaching role. Until, of course, the first day of school when the new reading teacher didn't show up and the instructional technology teacher quit. Suddenly, I found myself responsible for teaching four classes in four different rooms, in addition to my responsibilities in the library. The rest of my department had felt the brunt of the staffing‐shortage as well, with class sizes rising to nearly 30.

“I have to ask you for a favor,” my principal told me on my second week. “I need you to teach one more class.”

“Of course,” I said. After all, I thought I was Hillary Swank in Freedom Writers. I was going to change the world.

“We'll keep your numbers low,” she promised.

“Bring it on,” I said.

The other technology teachers took it upon themselves to hand pick who they would siphon off and transfer into my newly created class. I didn't think much of it until our first class meeting. Somehow, I had managed to land 10 of the vice principal's regular customers. That first day was mayhem.

In over a decade of teaching, I had always counted my classroom management as a strength, but this was truly pitiful. They yelled. They roughhoused. They played obnoxious yodeling videos on YouTube that drove me insane. I maintained consistent routines. I called home. I praised them constantly. For the first two weeks, nothing seemed to work.

It didn't take long to find out more about the young men who were giving me a run for my money. Most of them lived nearby in a low‐income housing project known as The Valley. One of the boys, I'll call him Eddie, spent the majority of our class time running around the room like a madman yelling, “Shuuuuut up!” with the same cadence of a screeching seagull.

The more I learned about his life outside of school, the more I felt empathetic toward him—and yet I couldn't get the sound of his voice out of my head while I lay in bed at night. “Shuuuuut up!” I heard it over and over.

I knew I needed to readjust my approach if we were going to achieve our goals for the year. Suddenly, the state test scores became the last thing on my mind. Growth meant making it through one class period without having to hear someone yodel or bray, “Shuuuuut up!” I needed to start measuring these kids against their previous selves. We all needed to get stronger together.

The next day, I posed the following question: “What is something about our city that you think could be better?”

One student raised his hand and said, “This place is trash.”

“Shuuuuut up!” yelled Eddie.

“Let's hear him out,” I said. “I agree, we have a real problem with trash. Maybe we could research some solutions.”

“No, I mean this place is trash because there's nothing to do here,” he told me. “I wish The Valley had a soccer field.” Even Eddie fell quiet.

It was true, a subsequent search revealed that of the 899 apartments in The Valley, 807 contained children. We also confirmed that soccer was indeed the most popular sport across the globe, and The Valley was the most culturally diverse community in our city. From that class period, the idea for Valley Field—a safe place to bring many cultures together—was born.

We spent our time researching urban planning, scouting locations on Google Earth, budgeting for proper equipment, and identifying a feasible community partner. The kids even built a scaled model of the field and created a stop‐motion video to pitch their idea. We submitted a proposal to the local housing authority and they agreed to come in for a meeting. I held my breath.

Sure, my students had grown more productive in class; however, their behavior was still maniacal most days. I lost count of the number of times I had revoked glue gun privileges from Eddie. Things were better, but still chaotic. When I asked the head principal for permission to invite our visitors into school, she agreed, but told me she would also have to be present for the meeting.

On the day of the big presentation, I was shocked to find everyone had arrived early to class. They helped me set out a tablecloth and flowers. Eddie insisted on greeting and escorting our visitors up to the room. Upon arrival, the Deputy Director of Development remarked, “What a gentleman.” My eyes grew wide in disbelief.

My students took the lead, clicking through a slideshow presentation and fielding questions. In the end, the housing authority agreed to fund the whole project. There was a lot of handshaking and praise rippling throughout the room. Eddie offered to walk our guests to the door.

“I am so impressed by their maturity,” the Director told me.

“Me too,” I said, flabbergasted.

My head principal looked pleased as well, although she did have one question for me when everybody else had gone. “How did you end up with this particular group of high‐needs students, all in one class?” she asked. “I wish you had told me so I could have provided you with the necessary support.”

I should have known better than to try to be a hero. By failing to ask for help, I had let my ego get in the way of what was best for the kids.

The Valley Field project gave me more pride than perfect scores on the state test ever could. We all grew stronger that semester. My students learned to work together to make their dreams a reality, and I learned to ask my administrators for what I needed. Sometimes growth is the greatest outcome of all.

WHAT'S THE THEORY?

The seminal study on growth was published in 1998 by two Columbia University Psychologists, Claudia Mueller and Carol Dweck. Mueller and Dweck focused on praise, believing that children who were praised for natural ability or talent could face negative impacts on learning. They reasoned that by focusing on natural ability and talent, teachers were reinforcing the misconception that intelligence is unchanging. Effort praise, on the other hand, could encourage students to seek out rigor and work hard to achieve their goals.

Mueller and Dweck gave over 100 fifth graders 4 minutes to solve 10 math problems. All students were told “Wow, you did very well on these problems” (p. 36). A control group received no additional praise, while others were told either, “You must be smart at these problems” or “You must have worked hard at these problems” (p. 36). Next, the children were all given 10 more problems and told they performed “a lot worse,” regardless of their achievement. When the students were given 10 more problems to solve, those who had been praised for their natural intelligence enjoyed the task less and were less likely to persist than those praised for effort (p. 37). The group praised for their intelligence decreased their performance on the final set of problems.

Dweck's fully formed theory came to be known as mindset, discussed in her aptly titled 2008 book Mindset: The New Psychology of Success. Dweck divided learners into two groups: fixed mindset and growth mindset. Individuals with a fixed mindset believed their intelligence was predetermined and their potential was limited. Simply put, students with a fixed mindset believed they could not succeed in school because they were not intelligent enough. By contrast, individuals with a growth mindset recognized their limitations, but believed their intelligence could improve throughout their lives with hard work.

I find math and English to be the most divisive subjects. I, myself, have been known to tell people I'm “not a math person.” I try to remember to say, “I have to work very hard at math, but it feels so good when I am successful” when I'm in the earshot of students. It is possible to not be very good at something right now, but that does not bar you from becoming a talented mathematician in the future. We can make ourselves smarter through hard work. This is not to say our potential is unlimited. There is a spectrum in which we all fall; however, we are not stuck in one position on the intelligence spectrum. Dweck writes, “Scientists are learning that people have more capacity for lifelong learning and brain development than they ever thought. Of course, each person has a unique genetic endowment. People may start with different temperament and different aptitudes, but it is clear that experience, training, and personal effort take them the rest of the way” (p. 5). Dweck found that intelligence was not the only thing that could grow and change. One's mindset could change, too.

Mindset can intersect with grit. In 2017, I had the opportunity to attend the ASU+GSV Summit keynote delivered in San Diego by preeminent scholar on grit, Angela Duckworth. She rocked my worldview. Duckworth began her career as a teacher before becoming a psychologist and authoring the New York Times best‐selling book Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance. In her research, she found that self‐control and perseverance were not enough to account for grit. Exceptionalism requires passion. Duckworth describes passion as the drive to stay consistent or loyal to something over a long period of time (2016, p. 8). Beyond a strong interest in one's craft, she observed that gritty people were willing to practice with intention, find purpose beyond themselves, and maintain a sense of hopefulness in the face of adversity (2016, p. 91).

During Duckworth's talk, she encouraged the audience to calculate our grit scores based on a series of statements such as, “New ideas and projects sometimes distract me from previous ones” and “Setbacks don't discourage me. I don't give up easily.” I found I was quite gritty. If you are a teacher, you probably are too. I became a full convert when Duckworth told us what grit was not. “Grit isn't talent,” Duckworth said, “Grit isn't luck. Grit isn't how intensely, for the moment, you want something.” For our students to become gritty and grow, we must applaud effort over talent and do our best to recognize our students' deepest passions as frequently as possible.

But, not everyone agrees. Noted educator and author Rick Wormeli has pushed back on the notion of grit as it is presented in many schools across America. He recognizes the good intentions at stake, but argues that an emphasis on grit should not foster disregard of racism, poverty, or social emotional issues. Wormeli explains, students who face obstacles “don't lack grit and tenacity,” explaining, “They have plenty of it; that's how they survive. We lose all credibility by harping on it as the root of a student's problems. What these students lack are the resources, time, and support needed to maneuver, extend energy, and find hope in the instructional demands placed on them” (2021). Wormeli recognizes the limitations to affording second chances. The most important thing is to keep students from feeling like success is out of reach.

IN SHORT

• Do not praise natural ability or talent; instead, praise effort and students who seek out rigor.
• Remind students that it is possible to not be very good at something right now, but that does not prevent them from becoming skilled at that same task in the future.
• Self‐control and perseverance are not enough if you wish to become outstanding at something; gritty individuals also possess passion.
• Before criticizing a student's lack of grit or inattention, consider their circumstances outside of school. They may be exceptionally gritty in their ability to simply survive.
• Give plenty of opportunities for second chances. Success should never feel entirely out of reach.

MODELS

The following models for growth will examine the ways in which we communicate with our students to help condition their mindsets. It won't take extra planning or grading to tweak your vocabulary, but it may get some getting used to. Remember to praise effort early and often.

PRINCIPLES

You have probably had to find the strength to overcome challenges throughout your own academic career. Ask yourself: When you faced failure in your own studies, what made you keep going? How did you persevere? Consider how you can pass those lessons along to your students while keeping the following principles in mind.

SMALL TEACHING QUICK TIPS: GROWING

Use small modifications in your own language to strengthen the growth mindset among your students. Place value on effort and organization. Clearly articulate what it takes to be successful in your class and allow students to build toward your highest expectations.

• Ensure early success by intentionally sequencing your assignments to build to more challenging tasks. Reward students who take advantage of opportunities to revise. You don't need to award full credit for do‐overs, just enough to reinforce their value.
• Use growth language when you give feedback to students. Show confidence in them and reiterate your belief that their hard work will pay off. Hang anchor charts throughout the room with examples of growth‐language sentence starters and sentence frames.
• Share examples of your own failures that led to growth in your academic career. Ask top students to share their tips for your course with incoming students. Include your own success strategies right on your course syllabus.

CONCLUSION

Our mindsets shape the way we view exceptional individuals. I think this is particularly easy to see in our perceptions of pro‐athletes or famous musicians. In one case, I collaborated with renowned artist Alice Mizrachi on an installation at our school and I made the mistake of saying in front of the whole class, “Alice, I wish I had your talent; I love art, but I'm not an artist.” She just about lost her mind.

“When I was young, my parents were really strict with me,” she explained. “They were so protective because they wanted to make sure their little baby girl was going to be kept safe. I spent most of my time at home and I would have to find things to occupy myself. As I began getting older, I realized that when I was in my room, instead of just sitting there I could create art. I discovered drawing and I thought, ‘Wow, this is a really fun way to express myself.’ I could create a whole universe in my own room. Almost like a fairytale universe that didn't allow me to feel so closed in. Drawing made me feel like I could travel to another dimension.”

Mizrachi's passion for art gave way to perseverance. She spent every waking moment practicing her craft. “I knew that I enjoyed making art when I was five or six years old,” she recalled. “But, I really got serious about it when I was in middle school. I had some great art teachers who encouraged me to paint and draw as much as I could. When I got to high school, my art teacher pushed me to apply to art school for university. That's where it really became clear that I was going to be an artist.” Her teachers helped her to shift her mindset and believe in her own potential based on her willingness to work hard and strengthen her craft.

Mizrachi's parents discouraged her from enrolling in art school, but she applied anyway and was accepted to Parsons School of Design. She is a prime example of someone who was not born naturally talented; she worked for it. Today, you can find her murals in Amsterdam, Berlin, Tel Aviv, as well as dozens of major cities across America.