When I was in school, our head teacher used to have a message that he’d tell us in assemblies and such: “I wish, or I’m glad.”
The case was, when you open your exam results, do you want to be saying “I am glad about these results” or “I wish I would have worked harder”.
Whenever we were told this message, I used to think how bad it was.
On a basic level, it makes sense. But, I’ve just never liked it. Maybe I should have said something. In fact, I remember writing a kind of monologue which I thought would have been more useful to tell everyone one lunchtime in the library (I had a lot of spare time, it would seem) but I can’t find it now. Hmm. I have no idea if it’s still used in the school. Anyway. I’m sure the creator of the message had his heart in the right place and he was no doubt a smart man but, as a general exercise in thinking, let’s discuss why it might not be all that good.
First off, it pushes the problem off to a distant date. If you are trying to beat this message into people in year nine, ten, or even eleven it’s not going to work because the point at which you are required to attach some consequence to is months away. If I get to go home tonight, with results day a year away, of what consequence is it to me right now whether I decide to watch TV or revise?
Second: Even if you do manage to get through to them and realise that they are going to feel something in a year’s time, the consequence isn’t that much of a big deal. Will you be wishing you did better, or will you be happy? Well, so what? What does it matter? All this does is say you will either be happy, or… slightly not happy when you open an envelope. After that, it’s back to normal. The message fails in giving a bigger meaning to results day. Sure, with a little bit of thinking, we can see there is a deeper consequence, but we’ll get to that later in the post.
Third: even if you can make them see that this fleeting emotion is somehow important, the message of “I wish or I’m glad” couldn’t be more lacklustre. I’m glad? When do I ever use the word glad? And, I wish? Really? Wouldn’t “I am glad or I am sad” have a little more kick. Or “I am ecstatic” or (perhaps best of all) “I am proud.” But, ‘glad’? Now, I get it: as a caring teacher, you don’t want to stand there and tell a bunch of sixteen year olds that they might be sad in a few months time. But, powerful words get through to people. Not some vague promise of gladness.
There is, I think, a far better message which could be used to convince tired 16 year olds to revise. (This is where we might get useful for you, too.)
Let’s imagine a (short and to the point and not what I would really say) monologue which a head teacher might give to a room of students, in the January of their final year of secondary education:
So, your exams are four or five months away. Seems like a long time, doesn’t it?
Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that you want to be a vet. How are you going to do, that? Go to university, right? How are you going to go to university? By getting good results in your exams. And, how do you get good results? It’s by revising, and revising hard.
It may seem like watching TV instead of spending thirty minutes revising is what you really want to do, but when you start from top, start from your dreams, and work your way backwards, you can see how important that revision is. If you want to be a vet, then you know that what you really want it to go to uni, to get good grades and to revise.
What I want you to do is ask yourself the question, ‘do I want to be doing what I am doing right now?’ If the answer is no, you need to change it. That means that whenever you’ve spent an hour staring at Facebook or three hours watching repeats of a TV show you’ve seen a hundred times, you need to ask yourself what the value is in that. Does that help you achieve your dreams? No. Do something that does.
Do you see the difference? Rather than externalise the problem to some distant, fleeting emotion which you can worry about later, the message becomes “the decision you make every single day has a huge material impact on the rest of your life.”
It’s not about the consequences on results day. That is so, so irrelevant to everybody except the people running the school who want to look good in the league tables. You think students care about grades? Of course they don’t. They care about what those grades mean for them.
The connection between grades and the rest of your life may seem obvious, and, of course, it is mostly obvious. But you don’t motivate people by leaving them to connect the dots themselves.
Let me put it this way. I did badly in my GCSEs. Far worse than I should have done. I got one A and a whole bunch of bad grades. I started of school loving education and loving school, and ended it up hating school and everything about it. I can go into why I think things went wrong (about 98% me and 2% the school) but I won’t bother. Maybe I will one day.
Ultimately, however, I opened my envelope on results day and I said “I wish I would have done better.” But, you know what, I could have come to that conclusion on my own. I know that “I wish,” but it sure didn’t help me when it was going on. Why? Because I didn’t care about this single day in my like that was months and months away. I cared about the rest of my life.
Finding the time and attention to do the things that you want to do is, I think, just about the hardest thing in the world to do. But, before you can even begin to direct your time and attention to the right places, you need to know what those right places are, and understand that you really do want to revise. Get a 16 year old to realise that they literally want to revise and the whole thing is sorted.
I’d probably round it off with one of my favourite paragraphs in all of literature from Dostoevsky’s The Idiot:
“Consequently, he had about five minutes left to live, not more. He said those five minutes seemed like an endless time to him, an enormous wealth… The ignorance of and loathing for this new thing that would come presently were terrible; yet he said that nothing was more oppressive for him at that moment than the thought: ‘What if I were not to die! what if life were given back to me—what infinity! And it would be all mine! Then I’d turn each minute into a whole age, I’d lose nothing, I’d reckon up every minute separately, I’d let nothing be wasted!’”
Will what I’m doing now matter in a year’s time? Getting a C does not matter to people. Becoming a vet does matter to people. That’s what they need to see.