Out of Storage

Dear Machine, 

Why are classroom sizes like that? Why do my lungs tighten in panic at the thought of stewarding one-hundred-and-fifty 9th graders next year? Did I take a wrong turn somewhere? Am I ready for this? Can my hardware handle the new software? Are we (humans) evolved to do this?

⚘

    If you're into the occasional indulgence of celebrity gossip like I am, you might remember the scandal around Ariana Grande dating her (no where near as hot as her) co-star Ethan Slater and the soon-to-follow remarkable essay posted by Slater's genius, therapist wife (not to mention mother of his newborn son) Lilly Jay. In Jay's essay is a powerful and honest exploration of her public divorce, her private career as a perinatal psychologist, and her thoughts on motherhood. One line stood out in particular to public discourse, as you may know:

    "Motherhood," Jay writes, "fills your time but not your mind." 

    Damn. Textural and authentic. This statement blew me away. Because I think it's true, if taboo: a statement that touches on something real about the cognitive overwhelm and brain fog of caretakers, professionally and interpersonally -- something we're not supposed to say out loud. And the essay (which if you haven't read it yet, although I'm sure you have, please do) is more nuanced, thoughtful, and human than any one line could sum up. 

    But what captures me about Jay's piece is that it clarifies the complex and delicate relational compartments not just in motherhood but in her work as a human psychologist of human patients. A relational compartment I resonate with as a human teacher of human students. 

    But first. Sometimes one must take a step backward to move ahead. Before I discuss therapist-patient and teacher-student relational commonalities, let us ponder our (or I guess mine, more than yours. Sorry) more primal past through a theory from evolutionary psychologist and biological anthropologist Robin Dunbar. Dunbar's social brain hypothesis, also known as "Dunbar's Number," is a theory which suggests that humans today (humans who evolved from tens of thousands of years of living in smaller communities) have brains with a 'cognitive relationship limit.' Or, in other words, as individuals, we can only handle a certain number of meaningful human social connections at a time. That number? 

    According to Dunbar, "150." 

The most intimate circle is just five loved ones, reaching a maximum of 1500 people you can recognise (Credit: Emmanuel Lafont)

⚘

    Lilly Jay uses the word "transference" to describe a term in clinical psychology for one aspect of the therapist-patient relationship. 

"Transference [is] the way a patient uses the anonymous therapist as a fun-house-mirror reflection of their own unresolved relational needs. [...]  As a therapist, part of what I could offer my patients was the experience of being in relation with someone else without the complexities of a personal relationship. I was never meant to be fully known to them. Research consistently indicates that the strongest predictor of success in therapy is the therapeutic alliance — the rapport between therapist and patient — and traditionally, therapists rigorously protect this for our patients with clear boundaries."

I think what Jay is getting at here is something many people in helping professions might recognize. Offering the "experience of being in relation with someone else without the complexities of a personal relationship" is arguably the root position of the teacher-student dynamic. In childcare professions, the role of Caretaker or Steward necessitates the shelving of the internal world of the adult in service of the child. Which isn't to say the adult is not authentic or real or herself or awesome or loving or funny or relatable or present, but it is to say that she is an emotionally sober, self-controlled, unbiased listening machine. -- Sorry, that's a rude comparison. An unbiased listener. That's still not right. A good human listener aware of her biases and fallibilities. Better. -- And I don't think that's a bad thing. But it is a something. A cognitive load kind of something. 

Teaching is unique as a profession for its research-based emphasis on meaningful connection. Relationships are the cornerstone of true learning, classroom management, and belonging. Creating positive conditions of safety and love in a classroom are two traits at the foundation of our students' needs before any kind of learning can occur. This is the understanding I wrestle with when I think about "Dunbar's Number" and my own cognitive overwhelm. To relate meaningfully is to do my job successfully. But what if my human brain just isn't evolved enough to succeed?  

Which brings me to my point: 

I would appreciate your help and mentorship. I would love to learn from an expert like you. How do you do it? How do you process so much information? And manage to be calm, all while computing tremendous amounts of data? Are you open to meeting on Zoom to discuss further mentorship opportunities? 

Also. This is somewhat unrelated, but if you could pass along this message, I would appreciate it. I don't have the space on my device to send it right now:

Mom & Dad, you're probably wondering why I've been distant. It's because I'm at cognitive relational capacity. I need to clear some storage space. It's not personal. It's for work. I know you guys get it. The notifications are head-splitting. It's just easier this way. The machine will take it from here if you have any questions. You can ask it to speak in my voice, too, if you prefer. Thank you for understanding. Love you both. Goodbye!

Warmly,

Human Elise