Late in my graduate career, I wrote a paper for Michele that I was pretty pleased with. I later discovered that she was…um…shall we say…less pleased. In the feedback I received, it was clear that I had substantially underperformed, despite my best intentions (but admittedly not my best efforts). I was HUMILIATED. Not because I’d performed badly, but because I’d performed badly for Michele. I had let her down. I could have done better, she knew it, and I knew it, and now I knew that she knew it. It was then that I realized how much more powerful a teacher could be by inspiring her students to work up to their potential–not by shaming them, or by yelling, but by encouraging their respect and admiration and affection.

Even more powerful, when I went to her office to discuss the paper and project, it was very clear that I was completely chagrined and embarrassed. Michele took one look at me, got out the box of Kleenex she always keeps in the drawer, and said, “Listen. I was probably harsher in that feedback than I should have been. It was a long week of reading and responding and grading.” That humility on her part–not to apologize for the feedback (which was fair), but to admit that maybe she could have delivered it more kindly, showed me that a well-placed apology not only doesn’t make you appear weak, but can make you appear stronger.

Thanks, Michele–I am so grateful for your mentorship and friendship.