My first car was a red Toyota Tercel hatchback with a manual transmission. I was excited to have a new car that was all my own after driving the family station wagon until it no longer ran. I wanted a manual transmission because it was 1) cheaper and 2) I was going to college and did not want to get stranded in an uncomfortable situation simply because I couldn’t drive the car.
My parent’s generous gift was purchased in the days when you picked out the features, color, etc., and then, waited for its arrival at the dealership. My car was available the same day my parents were leaving town for a trip. They picked up the car, parked in the driveway, and left.
You are probably predicting a story of the joys and adventures I had that weekend in my new car. But I didn’t know how to drive it. You see, I understood the mechanics of a manual transmission, but I had not driven one. So instead, I spent the weekend sitting in my car in the driveway.
When my parents arrived home, I was so excited to learn. My mom drove me to a quiet side road on a hill not too far away from our home. She stopped the car halfway up the hill, got out of the driver seat, and handed me the keys.
There is almost no more difficult challenge with a manual transmission than a hill. I stalled. Took a deep breath. Stalled again. Thought it through. Stalled. Swore. Stalled. Swore again. Stalled. Threatened to quit. Lurched forward…and stalled. That afternoon I stalled, swore, cried, stalled, yelled, swore, cried, stalled, and lurched until suddenly, I drove forward. Surprised, I yanked my foot off the gas and stalled again. I tried again with success. Slowly but surely, I learned how to drive a manual transmission. I made it to the top of that hill. By the time we got home, I was in the groove.
That afternoon is etched in my memory. Not just because I struggled, A LOT. But because I did it! I figured out how to drive a manual transmission and even began enjoying the nuances of being in control of the gear. I still have a manual transmission today even though they are 1) not available on many makes or models of cars and 2) no longer cheaper.
Struggle leads to victory. Without struggle, everything is well, just fine. Said another way, adequate.
I don’t want an adequate life. I want an amazing life. So do our students with complex needs. We need to allow for difficult, genuine struggle.
This is not to say teaching strategies like errorless teaching or behavior techniques are not important. They have their place and offer a path forward for some skills and moments. However, students are not one-note, one-strategy solves all humans. They need a variety of skills taught in a variety of ways to maximize outcomes. We need to include productive struggle in their education.
Productive struggle is about carefully crafting an assignment or learning experience so the student has the tools and skills necessary to struggle through, try, fail, try again, and ultimately, learn.
The value of learning to struggle through something difficult cannot be fully quantified, but it is one of the keys to becoming resilient. Furthermore, learning to fail and then try again prepares the student for real life, where there isn’t a paraprofessional, teacher, or parent standing by to “do it for you.”
As we enter into a new school year, I encourage us to reflect on opportunities to struggle. Art projects do not need to be perfect. Writing a word with incorrect spelling doesn’t ruin the message. Re-reading a passage is not a weakness. Giving the wrong answer in a discussion is not fatal. They are all opportunities to learn, do better next time, and try something more challenging.
Theodore Roosevelt said it best: “It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed.”
