Be a Paladin
In a game I used to play, Warcraft - Warcraft III: The Frozen Throne, to be more exact. This game is what the gaming-industry and its participants call a RTS Game.
Real-time strategy game.
In such games, a common goal is to manage dozens of aspects of an army or civilization at once. For example, you would have workers sent to work, and, while they work, you are also training soldiers in a different building, and while the soldiers train, you are harvesting gold, lumber, and keeping your food supply stable, and, while maintaining supplies, you are also worried about upgrading your hero, defending from attacks, creeping around for monsters. All of which is happening at once, and you, as the player, are responsible for everything progressing smoothly.
It's no wonder I fell into teaching.
Warcraft has a unique feature that other RTS games do not have: a hero. The hero is a cornerstone of effective gameplay. Each hero has different game-changing abilities that work to change the flow of battle with each use. Each hero gets stronger the more they level up. Each hero has it's own strengths and weaknesses.
There is a particular hero I have been thinking about lately: the Paladin.
In the Human Race in Warcraft, the Paladin is canonically a source of light in the never-ending fight against all things evil. In the Paladin's skill set, holy magic presides in each of his abilities: to heal, to protect, to resurrect, and to defend.
The Paladin's ability drawing my attention is his Divine Shield. When used, this shield can grant the Paladin invulnerability for a set amount of time - only a handful of seconds even at a full upgrade. When activated, the Paladin cannot be harmed.
Swords cannot damage him.
Magic spells don't target him.
He can charge into an enemy camp without fear of death, damage, pain.
He can swing his hammer around without fear of retaliation.
He can run alone into the heat of battle and escape without a scratch.
For a set amount of time, nothing hurts him.
For a set amount of time, he's invincible.
He fears nothing.
He's no longer vulnerable.
Surprise, I'm a huge nerd.
I've spent most of my life hiding the fact that I know so many useless facts about video games I have been playing since I could hold a controller. Who knows why, really. It just doesn't come up much, I suppose.
With times how they are, I have found myself playing more video games, buying more video games, throwing myself into more hours of video games.
I've devoted more hours playing Final Fantasy than I have doing much else lately. 'Tis the Season, I suppose. In fact, throughout my life, I've spent more time playing Final Fantasy than I have doing most things.
None of that time to me has been wasted. I have multiple tattoos dedicated to video games. I owe my love storytelling to video games. I owe my exquisite simple math skills to video games. I owe my ability to cope with to video games.
Video games are, well... wait. I digress.
This isn't about video games.
If I take anything away from video games - and the many teaching theories that revolve around video games I never have time to read about - it's this simple fact: they teach the true values of failure.
If you click that link and watch the entirety of that video, well, you will see a struggle.
You will hear frustration.
You will watch 20 minutes of the same attempts being made over and over and over.
You will see ONLY 20 minutes of a struggle that lasted much, much longer.
You will see a well-earned, and well-celebrated success - after an uncountable number of failures.
What made him keep going, keep trying?
Video games.
See, in video games, players are expected to fail. They are expected to try and try and try and and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try until they win.
They sign up for the challenge.
Mario Maker - where the above video comes from - has an entire system built on creating levels that unbeatable for the public.
Genius marketing, really.
In the video, there is no way he would have succeeded had he not failed so many times.
Failure leads to success.
Failing means you are learning.
You have found 2344 ways that don't work.
We all know the clichés.
Yet, that level of persistence does not happen everywhere.
In school, in teaching, in education, persistence is far too rare.
Do we not see the goal we are working towards?
Are we afraid of failure?
Let's return to my buddy, the Paladin.
Failing for the Paladin means dying on the battlefield, in the camp, against a monster.
While the Paladin is no stronger than other soldiers or heroes and has no less chance of dying quickly, you will see the Paladin doing more.
Rushing into bases.
Flying into battle alone.
Searching for the strongest monsters.
Why?
The Divine Shield.
For any five seconds that Paladin chooses, he can become invulnerable.
He can choose when the base overwhelms him and activate it.
He can choose when to flee from a battle not going his way and activate it.
He can choose when the monster has proven itself too strong and activate it.
With a simple click of a mouse and a flick of his hammer.
Those five seconds give him the ability to take more risks.
You won't see a Lich King going into bases alone for as long. You won't see the Demon Hunter running into battles on his own.
Those are, arguably, stronger heroes. But, they don't have the ability to take risks. The Paladin can ignore risk - at least for a time.
He won't fail.
Because he's not vulnerable to failure for a mere five seconds.
For a mere five seconds, he has the ability to be fearless.
And that fearlessness leads to more risk-taking.
Because he simply can.
He can simply put himself into risky, vulnerable situations where no other hero would dare venture because of the power he carries to be invulnerable.
Vulnerability holds us back.
We don't have divine shields on a cool-down that allow us complete freedom to do whatever we want and be unafraid of failure.
As such, we don't take risks.
We don't venture out into the unknown. (Into the uknoooooooown ♫♩)
Failure is far too prevalent there.
And we get stuck in the same way of doing things.
We get stuck worrying about consequences.
We perseverate about what others will think.
Successful teaching and successful learning does not happen in a world where we are afraid to take risks.
Successful teaching and successful learning does not happen in a world where our first attempt at "Rat Tunnel" in Super Mario Maker is our only attempt.
We need to think more like a Paladin.
We need to think more like players in Super Mario Maker.
Where risks are taken and failures are learned from.
How do we do that?
The first thing an observer will notice about the Paladin is that, statistically, they take more risks. And, you know, percentages and things will tell you that the more times you try something the more likely something is to succeed.
I guess the first step for us then is take more risks.
But, you can't go to a student in your classroom - or a teacher in your building - and say, "It's okay. Take more risks!"
It doesn't work that way. They aren't Paladins.
Risks have to be made okay.
And that's only done through making failure okay.
And that's only done by showing a path through vulnerability.
You can tell people over and over and over again that failure is good, vulnerability is encouraged, and countless other nonsensical phrases.
It doesn't work.
It's the age-old writing advice: "Show don't tell."
Or the advice my teaching professors at college told me: "Experience before you label."
Vulnerability needs to be modeled to make an impact.
Over and over again.
And then over and over again some more.
Odds are, when a Paladin rushes into battle, another soldier will join him.
And then one more solider.
And another.
And another.
And, suddenly, you have an entire army rushing forward, taking risks.
I guess I'm saying: be a Paladin.
The Paladin risks failure over and over and over again.
The Paladin models vulnerability.
The Paladin inspires others to do the same.
Every school needs a Paladin.
Every classroom needs a Paladin.
Those Paladins can - and should be - teachers.
And, as we have learned through iteration: Paladins have a Divine Shield - something that expels such power as to eliminate the crippling fear of risk-taking - to allow more chances at failure, to be a model for his army to progress towards the goal.
What, then, are your divine shields?
A letter from a student that you have saved in your desk.
A picture of a collaboration during Spirit Day.
A singular lesson you believe in more than any other lesson.
Your stockpile of snacks.
Your collection of stickers.
The support of a colleague.
Your ability to speak a different language and reach under-served populations.
Your tenacity in not taking no for an answer.
You are the best note taker in the entire building during meetings.
You are the one that always fixes the copier when it's down halfway through the day.
You have the most organized desk and always know where everything is.
You are the best artist in the class.
You can sing.
You can garner the attention of every one of your peers with a joke, a noise, a word.
You always ask questions.
You can always, at the very least, raise your hand.
What protects you from failure?
What allows you to take risks?
What are your Divine Shields?
And where do you want to take them?
Who will follow?
