My students gather around a piece of butcher’s paper. We have been studying a text and I want them to engage with it on a deeper level. 

“On this piece of paper, I would like you to all draw in silence a series of symbols that fully embody the themes and issues presented through the text.” 

They begin drawing. One girl jumps right in and draws a love heart - (The title of the play has ‘love’ in it). One girl writes some numbers - (The title of the play has the word ‘information’ in it.) Slowly another draws a puzzle with pieces missing; one draws a persons head with the tongue rolled out like a sheet of paper and numbers, symbols dripping out of the mouth; one draws a human being using binary code. More images flow and then they stop. We discuss.

“What images attract your attention? Engage you? Evoke emotion or cause you to question?”

Immediately students speak of the paper-tongued lady, the missing puzzle pieces and the human made up solely of information. When they were done, I asked,

“And who drew the heart?”

The kid that drew the heart (a bright and intelligent young lady I might add) begins to apologise, make excuses, explaining she can’t draw. She realises the superficiality of her work from our discussion. I interrupt her apology with the following,

“Thank you for failing.”

“MISSSSS!!!”, she declares. 

“Thank you for drawing what everyone else was first thinking. If you didn’t draw it someone else would have and now we can have a rich discussion because you pushed them to think further. We can also discuss why the play isn’t just this (pointed to heart) or this (pointed to the symbols). Thank you for failing, because if you didn’t then I have no purpose in this room.” 

She looked at me confused as my thanks was both heart-felt and genuine. It was not sarcastic or trite. It was warm and comforting. We then began to dissect why it wasn’t just about love or just about information and by the end of the lesson all the students in my class could see the rich layers within the text. 

This is one example of my new strategy - ‘Thank you for failing.’ I have been using it a lot over the last few weeks. At first there is the initial declaration of my name in horror, “MISSSSSS!!!” but when my students realise I am truly grateful for their error they begin to own their mistakes. This is the culture I want in my classroom.

My year 11’s already know my mantra - “If we aren’t failing, we aren’t learning.” They will heartedly joke that it is ok to ‘Fail in Drama’. They twist my words, but they do truly understand my intention. By creating a space where failing is valued, students become more open to taking risks, more likely to have a go answering a question and lastly become more resilient.

We need to change the language around failure to reverse the negative. When a student gives an incorrect answer to a question or makes an error in a practical task, harness it as a valuable learning experience rather than sighing and moving onto the next student. 

“Why did you think this was the answer?”
“This isn’t the answer so what do you think you may have missed?”
“Why didn’t this work out for you today?”
“What could we do better next time?”

And thank them. Thank them explicitly and whole-heartedly for their mistakes because if they were perfect all the time, there would be no need for teachers.

Today a dark cloud hangs over our society. 
No longer can humanity hide from the storm behind their bright coloured umbrellas,
splashing through overflowing puddles filled with your tears.

Alyan you are the lightning that finally gave the world the shock we needed;
forcing us to put our umbrellas away and for the first time feel your tears on our skin.
You have washed away the words ‘Refugee’, ‘Boat People’ and ‘Queue Jumpers’ 
and have replaced them with ‘Humanity.’
And for this you gave your life. 

I am a teacher. 
An individual who works day in and day out for the wellbeing and development of young people. 
Teaching in a school of middle to upper class girls in Sydney, Australia,
where the biggest issue is internet connection. 

I am also a mother of three beautiful girls. 
Two who I get to hug and love each and every day 
and one that watches from above with you Alyan. 
Yes I have held a limp body like yours in my arms. 
I have buried a child. 
I have felt anger like thunder reverberating in my chest 
and when I see the image of you,
 I feel it again echoing over the mountains. 

And because of this anger, 
this thunderous roar,
I want to make you, 
and all children who are fleeing their homes or living in war torn countries, 
the following pledge.

I promise that I will teach my students and my children things that matter. 
I will speak about the atrocities that take place in our world. 
I will teach empathy, compassion, hospitality, integrity and respect. 
The students that leave my classroom will leave as leaders. 
Ready to make noise when noise must be made; 
Ready to challenge when their peers need to be challenged;
Ready to speak up when no-one else has the words; 
Ready to fight when others choose flight.
My students will see the similarity between the rain trickling down their arms from the sky,
to their own pain, welling in their own eyes. 
No longer will they hashtag firstworldproblems, they will hashtag thirdworldprobelms.
I will speak to them about humanity, about humility, about being lucky 
and in return they will spread the word, spread the light, spread the hope. 

You see, your future is hopeless but their future is hopeful. 
Hopeful that they can make a difference for generations to come. 
For children to come. 
For others to come and share our homes, our wealth, our love.

This is my promise. To empower the young people of today to be the heroes of tomorrow. 
Ensuring no more children wash up on the shore in the midst of a great storm.