A Brave Writer's Life in Brief

It’s easy to identify bias in everyone else: that news show anchor, the brash radio host, your annoying neighbor, the uncle who won’t shut up at the holiday dinner…

Bias lives in all of us, however—even those of us who pride ourselves on being “objective.” What’s harder to detect is the invisible, silent influence bias has on how we think. The method for detecting bias isn’t more studying (you can always find books and articles to confirm your biases). Rather, bias is merely how your mind sorts information to affirm what you *hope will be true.*

A good example. When you read about homeschooling, don’t you begin hoping that whatever you read will validate that homeschooling is a trustworthy method of education? That “hope” is where your mind starts when it goes to read the article. If you read an article that’s against homeschooling, don’t you find yourself wanting to discredit what you read? You want homeschooling to be seen as effective so you hope that this negative article isn’t accurate or true.

Try this.

• Go to any news site. Pick an article to read. Read the headline.
• Now before you start reading, ask yourself, “What do I hope will be true?”

You aren’t asking what IS true. You aren’t asking if the writers are biased. You aren’t even trying to see if you agree or disagree with the writer.

Your task is to detect the little internal voice that is already telling you whether or not to trust this article, and what you hope to find (you may even hope to find that the writer is a loudmouth or that the information is wrong or that the research is flawed). If it’s a headline you like, you may hope to find more data to confirm what you want to be true!

Bias is the unconscious posture you take toward any information. It’s not possible to eliminate it. The best we can do is notice it—bring it to the surface so it can ride sidecar while you read an article, tweet, or Instagram caption. It’s also helpful to notice your bias when in conversation.

Ask: what do I hope she’ll say? What do I wish he wouldn’t say? 

The crux of bias is: What do I hope will be true?

In all your planning, plan space without plans; plan time without agenda.

Sometimes the temptation to wash away last year’s regrets is strong. We overcome the feeling of not living up to our own ideals by planning a slew of new ideals for the next year. Somehow the act of imagining a better future eases any feeling of lack from the past one.

Yet what if this past year was fine?

• What if you accomplished exactly what you could and it was exactly enough?
• What if you looked back and took it in: we survived a pandemic AND we learned and grew?

Maybe last year is a blueprint for the future, not a memory of what not to do again.

What if you looked at last year and decided to do even less in the coming year?

What if you gave yourself permission to go at the pace of human beings, not schools?

In ALL your planning, plan time to do nothing.

Plan time for wondering and wandering.

Include space to be.

We’re driven by performance metrics. We measure ourselves against a spreadsheet of productivity and completed tasks. We forget that the deeper work of caring to learn can’t be quantified. Caring gets you all the way there.

Instead of planning tasks on calendars, ask this question:

What kind of plan promotes caring to learn?

This year, even as you plan, take human beings at a human pace into account. Get to know each of your kids as people, not students. Uncover lessons learned, rather than teaching objectives.

In all your planning, promote caring.

This post is originally from Instagram and @juliebravewriter is my account there so come follow along for more conversations like this one!