 ‘Our children need our presence more than our presents.’ (Jesse Jackson) The pilot’s announcement came as a surprise as we sat on the runway at Amsterdam airport, waiting to take off. ‘Apologies for the delay. There’s a technical problem.’ 15 minutes later, ‘We need to refuel the plane.’ Bemused faces among the passengers – didn’t it occur to anyone to refuel the plane? 30 minutes later, the captain again over the tannoy: ‘I have good news and bad news. The good news is the plane is now refuelled. The bad news is that, while refuelling, the ground crew noticed evidence of a bird strike on the plane’s engines. We can’t take off safely until the damage has been checked and repaired.’ Looks of stunned disbelief all around now. A 13 year-old girl sitting next to me looked up and spoke to me, a total stranger. ‘Where are you travelling from?’ she asked. ‘I’m on my way back from Germany,’ I replied, ‘How about you?’ ‘I’ve been here for a hockey competition with my school,’ she said, pointing to the 49 or so other children sitting around us and the teacher sitting beside me across the aisle. ‘How did you get on?’ I asked. ‘Well,’ she replied, ‘they were 17 year-olds, and we still won.’ She went on to tell me about her life, all the astonishing things she had achieved in so many fields. ‘Your parents must be very proud of you.’ I said. She looked down, sadly, and sighed ‘I don’t think they feel proud of me.’ I didn’t know what to say. ‘You remind me of my youngest daughter when she was your age.’ I said, and I showed her a photo on my phone. ‘Yes, I can see the likeness.’ she smiled. I shared a story of how I used to take my daughter to her primary school and hold her hand all the way to the door. One day, in a deeply sensitive and diplomatic tone (well beyond her years), she said, ‘Dad, I know you love holding my hand and taking me to the door. I love it too. But have you noticed the other parents wave goodbye to their children at the school gate?’ I knew what she was trying to tell me. I learned to let go and wave from the gate. It was a parental rite of passage. My neighbour looked deeply thoughtful. ‘I would love to have had my parents walk me to school and to hold my hand like that.’ ‘Didn’t they?’, I asked. ‘No,’ she said, ‘They made me walk to school alone because they wanted me to be independent.’ I felt her sadness. Here was this young person, so very talented, with wealthy and high-achieving parents who clearly support her in so many ways (including her determined ambition to become an Olympic athlete in 2028). Yet, nonetheless, at a simple human level, she felt so alone. The pilot interrupted our chat, ‘The repairs are done and we’re ready to take off now’. We were both very quiet during the flight back.
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 ‘The art of teaching is the art of assisting discovery.’ (Mark Van Doren) In Germany this week, I watched a teacher in one the country’s Deutscher Schulpreis 2024 winning schools talk about the school’s fundamental teaching philosophy and practice. She described the relationship between teachers and students as one of coactive partnership, in which teachers play less of a role as traditional knowledge-sharers and more of a role as learning facilitators. This shift in role is reflective of, for instance, contemporary advances in learning technologies by which students can often find answers for themselves, if they know what questions to ask and, thereby, what to look for. The teacher takes more of a back seat than we might normally expect, coming alongside students with prompts, like a learning coach, only when needed. It reminded me of a similar philosophy and practice at a Montessori school in Germany where I volunteered last year, observing the approaches to learning adopted by teachers and students. Again, it was coactive and highly participative, although less rooted in e-technology and more in broader forms of experience, often involving practical, physical tasks that students worked on together. The teacher, similarly, acted as facilitator and learning coach, setting the stage for a learning topic and task rather than taking a more directive role in guiding students through it. It’s a catalytic approach that challenges conventional ideas of the role of the teacher in relation to students, the students in relation to the teacher and the students in relation to one-another. Such approaches blur the boundaries between what we might normally consider as andragogy (adult learning) and pedagogy (childhood learning); especially given their shared emphasis on self-directed learning. They prepare young people for transition into roles in wider life, jobs and organisations by encouraging and developing, for instance: initiative and ownership, research skills, critical-thinking skills, problem-solving skills and team-working skills. They call, too, for teachers to take a conscious stance and use similar skills to those normally associated with coaches and facilitators. They call for wisdom and discernment in choosing together when to be directive (tell), when to be non-directive (coach/facilitate) and when positively to withdraw. (World Teachers' Day is 5 October 2024)  ‘The art of teaching is the art of assisting discovery.’ (Mark Van Doren) This looks and feels so very different to my own school days. It has been fascinating to explore the spirit and approach to working with students at a Montessori school in Germany over the past few weeks. Laura, an English language teacher from Romania, sets out a creative range of different activities in a classroom. The children look around and choose whichever activity appeals most to them. Every activity involves doing something physical, not just thinking. I’m struck by how the teacher chooses to offer only minimal explanation. Each student works at their own level and pace and problem-solves for themselves, or with others, if they get stuck. The teacher is available – if needed. Kathrin, a maths teacher, invites the students to sit in a circle and introduces me, briefly. She invites the students to practise English by asking me questions directly, questions to which the answer must be a number. They ask, ‘How tall are you?’, ‘How much do you weigh?’, ‘What’s your shoe size?’, ‘What did your trainers cost?’ etc. We notice that the measures I use in the UK are different to those they use in Germany. This sparks curiosity and the students work out how to convert the numbers I give them into those that are meaningful for them. The teacher writes each number on a large sheet of paper, then uses those numbers as the basis for introducing a maths method for that day. Melina, also an English language teacher, from Mexico, works with those students who find learning difficult. She uses a creative range of short, energetic, and fast-paced techniques that capture and hold their attention. Again, I’m struck by the use of physicality in the activities she facilitates. She adopts an evocative elicitation-based stance, stimulating the students to lead the activities, to play an active role and to work out the answers for themselves. (I noticed my own temptation to step in if they got stuck and, paradoxically, how often they didn’t need my help – if I simply allowed them time and space to resolve their own challenges). I'm a student among students and I feel inspired.  ‘You always have two worlds. The one you are in now right now and the one beyond your world.’ (Mehmet Murat Ildan) This was such a heart-warming experience. I met with a class of 10 year-olds at a Montessori school in Germany this morning. They had invited me to share some of my experiences in the Philippines. I wondered how I could help to bridge the cultural and contextual gaps for them, to enable them to sense a feeling of connection with children of a similar age in a different world, rather than seeing children from a jungle village as totally alien. I opened by posing questions to the class about their own experiences of visiting different places, different countries with different languages etc. I asked who, if any, can speak a second language and was amazed by the diversity of second languages in the group. I showed them a world map, then a map of the Philippines, then taught them some simple phrases I had learned there. They loved practising these words in a different language. I showed them photos and short video clips from the Philippines – school children, motorbikes with sidecars, wooden houses, travelling on a boat through the jungle, children playing games, village children teaching me their local dialect (with lots of laughter), children performing the most amazing dance routines etc. I invited the class to practise one of the fun games they saw the jungle children playing on video. They leapt at the chance. At the close of the class, they asked me excitedly to take them with me, if I were ever to return to the Philippines. I was heartened by their ability to imagine themselves, and people, in a different world, so easily and so vividly. One child handed me a hand-written note, and a small group came forward to ask if they could give me a hug before I left. I feel humbled and inspired by these children – and by the Filipino jungle children who made this possible. I took my mountain bike for repairs last week after pretty much wrecking it off road. In the same week, I was invited to lead a session on ‘use of self’ in coaching. I was struck by the contrast in what makes a cycle mechanic effective and what makes the difference in coaching. The bike technician brings knowledge and skill and mechanical tools. When I act as coach I bring knowledge and skills too - but the principal tool is my self.
Who and how I am can have a profound impact on the client. This is because the relationship between the coach and client is a dynamically complex system. My values, mood, intuition, how I behave in the moment…can all influence the relationship and the other person. It works the other way too. I meet the client as a fellow human being and we affect each other. Noticing and working with with these effects and dynamics can be revealing and developmental. One way of thinking about a coaching relationship is as a process with four phases: encounter, awareness, hypothesis and intervention. These phases aren’t completely separate in practice and don’t necessarily take place in linear order. However, it can provide a simple and useful conceptual model to work from. I’ll explain each of the four phases below, along with key questions they aim to address, and offer some sample phrases. At the encounter phase, the coach and client meet and the key question is, ‘What is the quality of contact between us?’ The coach will focus on being mentally and emotionally present to the client…really being there. He or she will pay particular attention to empathy and rapport, listening and hearing the client and, possibly, mirroring the client’s posture, gestures and language. The coach will also engage in contracting, e.g. ‘What would you like us to focus on?’, ‘What would a great outcome look and feel like for you?’, ‘How would you like us to do this?’ (If you saw the BBC Horizon documentary on placebos last week, the notion of how a coach’s behaviour can impact on the client’s development or well-being will feel familiar. In the TV programme, a doctor prescribed the same ‘medication’ to two groups of patients experiencing the same physical condition. The group he behaved towards with warmth and kindness had a higher recovery rate than the group he treated with clinical detachment). At the awareness phase, the coach pays attention to observing what he or she is experiencing whilst encountering the client. The key question is, ‘What am I noticing?’ The coach will pay special attention to e.g. what he or she sees or hears, what he or she is thinking, what pictures come to mind, what he or she is feeling. The coach may then reflect it back as a simple observation, e.g. ‘I noticed the smile on your face and how animated you looked as you described it.’ ‘As you were speaking, I had an image of carrying a heavy weight…is that how it feels for you?’ ‘I can’t feel anything...do you (or others) know how you are feeling?’ (Some schools, e.g. Gestalt or person-centred, view this type of reflecting or mirroring as one of the most important coaching interventions. It can raise awareness in the client and precipitate action or change without the coach or client needing to engage in analysis or sense-making. There are resonances in solutions-focused coaching too where practitioners comment that a person doesn’t need to understand the cause of a problem to resolve it). At the hypothesis stage, the coach seeks to understand or make sense of what is happening. The key question is, ‘What could it mean?’ The coach will reflect on his or her own experience, the client’s experience and the dynamic between them. The coach will try to discern and distinguish between his or her own ‘stuff’ and that of the client, or what may be emerging as insight into the client’s wider system (e.g. family, team or organisation). The coach may pose tentative reflections, e.g. ‘I wonder if…’, ‘This pattern could indicate…’, ‘I am feeling confused because the situation itself is confusing.’ (Some schools, e.g. psychodynamic or transactional analysis, view this type of analysis or sense-making as one of the most important coaching interventions. According to these approaches, the coach brings expert value to the relationship by offering an explanation or interpretation of what’s going on in such a way that enables the client to better understand his or he own self or situation and, thereby, ways to deal with it). At the intervention phase, the coach will decide how to act in order to help the client move forward. Although the other three phases represent interventions in their own right, this phase is about taking deliberate actions that aim to make a significant shift in e.g. the client’s insight, perspective, motivation, decisions or behaviour. The interventions could take a number of forms, e.g. silence, reflecting back, summarising, role playing or experimentation. Throughout this four-phase process, the coach may use ‘self’ in a number of different ways. In the first phase, the coach tunes empathetically into the client’s hopes and concerns, establishing relationship. In the second, the coach observes the client and notices how interacting with the client impacts on him or herself. The coach may reflect this back to the client as an intervention, or hold it as a basis for his or her own hypothesising and sense-making. In the third, the client uses learned knowledge and expertise to create understanding. In the fourth, the coach presents silence, questions or comments that precipitate movement. In schools such as Gestalt, the coach may use him or herself physically, e.g. by mirroring the client’s physical posture or movement or acting out scenarios with the client to see what emerges. In all areas of coaching practice, the self is a gift to be used well and developed continually. |
Nick WrightI'm a psychological coach, trainer and OD consultant. Curious to discover how can I help you? Get in touch! 
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