Our Stories: Gateways to Humanity, Curiosity, and Change
I experience the world through stories. You probably do, too.
Social psychology tells us that our brains use stories to make sense of the world. Stories enable us to organize observations, details, and experiences, creating connective tissue between seemingly disparate moments so we can process information as we encounter it. But that’s not all: Stories enable us to be time travelers. Stories link us to details from the past—lessons learned, knowledge gained—not only in our lifetime but also of generations before us. This is the part I love best: stories connect us to one another. Through listening to others’ stories, we understand each other’s lived experiences and see each other’s humanity. Through stories, our understanding of the world gains depth and dimension, bringing shape to the complexity of the human experience, opening space for possibilities and change. Because of this, stories are important data points that all schools should investigate as they seek to improve.
Let me tell you a story.
Listening to Stories: A Practice to Analyze Complex Challenges
Years ago, Lead by Learning—the organization I now lead as executive director—asked me to facilitate a Community of Practice (CoP) for all of the secondary principals in a large urban school district in California. I was younger than most of these principals and district leaders, had never been a principal myself, and felt the weight of my inexperience. However, over the course of my life, I had learned to embrace challenges, and my training taught me that when confused, a good first step is to ask questions and listen deeply. So that is what I did, and everyone had a story to share with me.
District leaders told me their test scores were low, especially in math, and felt principals struggled to provide teachers with feedback about instruction because of union grievances. The district had started site walkthroughs to facilitate improvement, but conversations felt generic and district leaders didn't see systemic changes occur.
Principals told me they frequently texted one another for advice, and that their camaraderie kept their conversations informal and “nice.” They found it challenging to balance operational demands as instructional leaders, and thought accountability structures might help with follow through. Though test scores concerned them, they were more interested in using formative data to drive instructional improvement.
Listening to these leaders’ stories helped me cultivate two things. One, it established an ethic of professional care between us. I may not have been a principal before, but my listening demonstrated that I cared deeply about their leadership experiences. They began to trust that I would design a CoP for their context and needs. Two, it enabled me to construct my own story of what was happening in their system, driven by their multiple perspectives and my resolve to listen for strengths and possibilities rather than deficits. The story I constructed included details like the following:
The principals had developed good working relationships and trust, but that trust did not yet translate into the conversations they were having in their district-wide meetings.
Everyone craved more meaningful feedback and accountability structures, but they weren’t sure what these looked or sounded like.
They wondered what data could help them understand student learning so they could talk more meaningfully with teachers and facilitate instructional change at their sites.
These stories—both theirs and mine—informed how I launched this CoP and redesigned their walkthroughs. Listening to learners’ stories, whether they are students or adults, helps us see their humanity and deepens our awareness. We become better equipped to analyze complex challenges, which leads to better, more human-centered decisions. Intentionally listening to stories is something you can start doing tomorrow. As you do, think of questions like these: Whose stories do you need to prioritize? How do you listen—not to respond, but to understand? How do you train your ear to notice strengths and opportunities, not just deficits?
I knew this CoP was making a difference for these leaders because, when COVID-19 forced all of us to quarantine and district leaders asked me to cancel upcoming meetings, the principals insisted that we continue to meet virtually. Can you imagine a group of principals advocating for a 3 hour meeting? Those Zoom meetings kept us connected during the pandemic, creating a space to problem solve, share promising practices, and support one another’s wellbeing during a uniquely challenging time.
Curiosity and The Power of Questions
Something powerful happens when we share our stories with one another: we become curious. That curiosity opens a doorway to learning. We want to learn more about the people involved, the conflicts they face, and the possibilities that exist just beyond our imagination. We become invested in one another’s stories, and that curiosity activates something extraordinarily powerful: a really good question.
There is no formula for a good question. We know it when we hear it because it stops our thinking dead in its tracks. In my experience, a good question reveals itself when one deeply listens and notices something unsaid or said between the lines, pinpointing a gray area in our thinking that is worthy of further investigation.
When we create the conditions for people to ask one another good questions, we create space for collective problem solving and new thinking. Teachers and leaders need space to talk about their experiences as they try to support students daily, including the challenges they face. They need structures that enable them to ask each other good questions so they can create new narratives about what’s possible for their students. Asking good questions can feel challenging because we fear offending someone or don’t want to start a conflict. However, when we embrace questions as a sign of curiosity and care, we engage in deeper investigation about our work and the pain points we experience.
For example, the first CoP meeting I facilitated for the secondary principals included a moment that pushed me to embrace what may seem like a tricky question. I was nervous to begin with, so I got to the meeting early, arranged lunch, and made a point to say hello to every leader as they walked into the room. In the meeting, I asked a principal to engage in Public Learning, the Lead by Learning practice of sharing a story about an uncertainty in our work to invite probing questions. I then asked the group to identify what they were curious to know more about and craft a question that reflected that curiosity. The meeting was going well and the principals were asking each other good questions like “How do you define rigor, and do your teachers define it the same way?”
Then, just as I was closing the meeting, a principal raised his hand and asked me a question: “This was a nice conversation, but I still don’t see the big purpose. How is one conversation supposed to help us improve equity in our schools?”
While some might have been offended by his question, I was not. His question revealed his desire to engage in work that could actually improve equity at his site. And the truth is, one conversation is not enough to substantially change what happens in schools. But over time, these conversations help us challenge the stories we tell ourselves about our work. They inspire us to learn more, ask good questions, and try something new—a small step in a longer journey of school improvement. When we engage in this form of storytelling again and again, we create shared accountability structures that push us to take many small steps over time, eventually leading to substantive changes not only in our work, but also in our dispositions and the beliefs we hold as we try to lead change. This is what I told that principal. I also told him that it would take time to see the impact, and we would have to navigate this journey together. Finally, I made sure to appreciate his question and invited him to continue to ask questions so I could be a better facilitator.
Cultivating the capacity and conditions to ask good questions can change how students and educators experience learning in our schools. How do we do this? We have to model what it means to ask good questions and to take all questions seriously. We have to invite complex questions that don’t have simple answers. And when questions feel confrontational or stir defensiveness, we need the resolve to move beyond these reactions and engage in productive dialogue. If we do so, we support our schools to move beyond the typical practice of asking, “Any questions?” and create space to ask the questions that keep us up at night.
School Improvement through Counternarratives
Whether we are aware of it or not, we are constantly telling ourselves stories about our work and the people we work with. These constructs, or mental models, influence how we interpret what is happening around us and the decisions we make. These stories make us more inclined to notice certain things, and these noticings reinforce the narratives we choose to believe because they cultivate confirmation bias over time, similar to the algorithms we construct through continued engagement with our streaming platforms or AI.
Sometimes, these stories are helpful. For example, if a student adopts the narrative that their teacher believes in and cares about them, this student is more inclined to take risks and work hard in that teacher’s class. Research also tells us that when a teacher believes that they have agency over their instruction and feels efficacious, that teacher is more likely to innovate and try new practices. In each scenario, the adopted narratives drive how people see themselves and the behaviors they choose to engage in.
Conversely, some dominant narratives perpetuate harm. For example, when a student doesn’t behave in the ways we desire, we are inclined to construct a story about their behavior. Why do we do this? Because we are confused, and our desire to make sense of the confusion causes us to fill the holes in our understanding with assumptions. Our implicit biases begin to creep into our thinking. And the more we tell ourselves these stories, the more we believe them to be true, and the less we acknowledge the limitations of our perspectives.
This is why schools, and the community members within them, must vigilantly unearth and examine the stories we circulate and the impact those stories have on our decisions, systems, and policies. How do we talk about students? What stories do we tell one another in the lunch room? What narratives do we have about our colleagues, and how do they influence how we work together?
Thankfully, we are all storytellers. We have the power to construct counternarratives that combat harmful narratives about students, families, and educators. These counternarratives often take shape through deep listening and curiosity, brave conversations about vision, strategy, and data, and collaborative investigations of pain points and equity challenges.
You can be the one to start this movement in your system. I invite you to recount aloud, in a collaborative space, a story you’re noticing in your system, and then ask yourself and your colleagues this powerful question that Dr. Anna Richert, Lead by Learning’s founding faculty member, used to ask often: “What if it were otherwise?” The conversation that emerges will be informative. It will activate feelings that require bravery. But that process will enable you to collectively construct a new, more nuanced story about what is happening in your system, what your students are experiencing, and what you can do to better support them. The process will ask you to listen deeply and, in so doing, see humanity in the midst of complexity. And in the end, the new story you construct together will reinvigorate your curiosity, create space for innovative thinking, and guide you to make improvements that center the people you serve.
Jennifer is the Executive Director of Lead by Learning at Northeastern University, Oakland, where she leads professional learning programs serving over 1,000 educators and nonprofit leaders who impact over 400,000 students. Her work is grounded in the belief that transformation happens through learning. She has written for educational publications like The Learning Professional who also spotlighted her as a Changemaker, and featured on various podcasts such as the What School Could Be Podcast. She previously served as a high school English teacher and counselor, earning her B.A. and M.A. from UC Berkeley. When not working, she enjoys time with her family, reading, and exploring new artistic pursuits.