A Note from One SisterFriend to Another
I still remember my first year of teaching.
I had my newly minted master’s degree from New York University and was ready to put
everything I learned into practice.
It didn’t take long for me to discover that knowing about teaching and actually
teaching were two very different things.
Fortunately, someone noticed.
All these years later, I still thank God for the veteran teacher who saw me struggling and
was willing to share what she knew.
I’ve never forgotten her.
With love,
Belinda
SisterFriend Reflection
”Knowledge for knowledge’s sake is not enough.”
—Patricia Hill Collins
I entered my first teaching position with a master’s degree from NYU and plenty of educational theory.
I knew about pedagogy, instructional strategies, and the principles of effective teaching.
At least, I thought I knew.
Within a few weeks, I discovered that what I’d learned in the classroom wasn’t translating quite so neatly into what was happening in my classroom.
My students didn’t always respond the way the textbooks suggested they would.
Lessons that looked wonderful on paper didn’t necessarily work when I stood in front of the children I was responsible for teaching.
And I was struggling.
Then a veteran teacher noticed.
She didn’t make me feel foolish or question whether I belonged in the profession. She began sharing what years of experience had taught her.
She helped me understand that effective teaching required more than knowing instructional methods.
It required knowing your students, paying attention, and recognizing when something wasn’t working and being willing to adjust.
And perhaps most importantly, it required compassion.
I still thank God for that SisterFriend.
She had something I couldn’t have earned in a university classroom: the wisdom that comes from doing the work, learning from it, and doing it again.
My degree mattered. The knowledge I’d gained mattered.
But I needed what she knew, too.
That experience stayed with me throughout my career.
Years later, I found myself in meetings with educators, administrators, and other professionals discussing important decisions affecting children with disabilities.
There was considerable professional expertise in those rooms.
But I also remember the parents who arrived knowing things no one else at the table knew.
They knew their children.
They knew what happened after school, what had already been tried, what helped, and what wasn’t working.
They might not have known all the regulations or the terminology professionals used.
But their knowledge was essential to understanding their children’ts needs.
And too often, they had to work harder than anyone else to have that knowledge taken seriously.
I’ve come to believe that one of the mistakes we make is assuming expertise belongs only to the person
with the most education, the longest title, or the greatest authority.
I value education. I’ve devoted much of my life to learning, and I’m still learning.
But education doesn’t give any of us a complete understanding of another person’s experience.
Professional expertise and lived experience are not competing forms of knowledge. We need both.
That veteran teacher understood something I was only beginning to learn.
She didn’t need to diminish what I knew to help me become a better teacher.
She shared what she knew.
And I was wise enough—or perhaps desperate enough—to listen.
I often wonder how different that first year might have been if she hadn’t.
So when we gather people to make decisions or solve problems, perhaps the question isn’t simply:
Who are the experts?
But who knows something important that we haven’t heard yet?
Where Purpose Meets Strategy
This week’s strategy? Recognize the expertise that experience brings.
Whether you’re working through a challenge, planning something new, or making a decision, consider whose knowledge could help
you see the situation more clearly.
The person with the most useful insight isn’t the person with the most impressive title.
A Little Challenge
Think about someone who taught you something important through their experience.
Perhaps it was a colleague, a parent, a mentor, or someone whose wisdom you didn’t fully appreciate at the time.
If you can, let that person know what their contribution meant to you.
And the next time you’re part of a discussion, ask:
Whose perspective would help us understand this better?
May you never stop learning from those whose experiences differ from your own.
May you recognize wisdom when it comes from an unexpected place.
And may you be as willing to share what you’ve learned as that veteran teacher was with me.
Your turn, SisterFriend,
Who shared their wisdom with you when you needed it most?
I’d love to hear about someone who made a difference in your life. Share their story in the comments below.