Attributes of the Extraordinary
My husband has been in the hospital for over 2 weeks. He has probably had 30-35 different nurses. I am grateful for all of the care that each one of them has given him. Yet, there is something particularly special about a few of them.
Every now and then, a nurse walks in and within 5 minutes, my husband and I do a little smile at each other as if to signal: yep, this nurse is extraordinary.
I have had way too many hours in this hospital room and way too few hours of sleep so I’ve been thinking a lot about these attributes and how it all relates to education.
What exactly is it about some nurses–and some teachers–that makes them so good at their jobs? As a patient, I know nothing about their credentials or prior experiences. I know very little about their identities other than my own assumptions, but my limited sample size cuts across lines of gender, ethnicity, language, and race. I know that no individual nurse is going to walk in and cure my husband, but I also know that I immediately feel a deep sense of relief and trust with some of them.
So what is it? What do extraordinary nurses do, and how does this apply to schools?
Connection: All of our nurses have been friendly and kind; however, extraordinary nurses immediately build a rapport with us. They share a little bit about themselves–not a long personal history–but enough that we feel like we are not strangers. They are not intrusive, but they ask gentle questions to get to know us. Where are you from? How old are your kids? Not the dreaded: why are you here? That’s a buzzkill, and by the way, it’s in the chart. Inevitably, when we start talking, we realize that we have something in common outside of this sterile room. Maybe it’s twin parenting, maybe it’s running, maybe it’s tedious Christmas shopping lists: there’s always some connection there that reminds me that we’re all just humans trying to be humans despite the thousands of cords and beeps around us.
Credibility: Extraordinary nurses project a clear and quiet confidence. They’re not necessarily announcing what they’re doing, but they’re also not sharing what they’re doing wrong. Self-deprecating humor is great at a bar–not right before a major surgery. They’re not nervous. They move around the room with a clear sense of purpose. It makes me feel like okay good, there’s someone in-charge here, because clearly it can’t be me.
Joy: Extraordinary nurses seem like they want to be here or at least, they don’t make us feel like we’re a nuisance. It’s not whistles and cartwheels–it’s just small gestures like smiles and affirming nods. They don’t complain. It’s not toxic positivity. It’s not empty promises that everything will be okay–it’s just a feeling that they care about this one moment in this one room.
Agency: Extraordinary nurses know what they can control and adjust. They think flexibly. They have read the chart, they are following the directives, and they know what tiny changes they can make to make a big difference in the world of a patient. Two nights ago, my husband was particularly exhausted. The night nurse figured out how to slightly adjust his medication so he could get 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep; the next night, the nurse said it was impossible. I am not suggesting that nurses should go rogue. I understand the importance of the medical orders, but I also know that extraordinary nurses find little ways to honor the patient’s needs while still following the script.
Trust: Extraordinary nurses follow through. If they say that they’ll get ice chips, they do it. If they say they’ll get you a blanket, they find one. They don’t overpromise. If my husband asks for something unreasonable, they tell him that it’s just not possible. Their words convey that they are committed to him and his care. For example, earlier this week, he wanted his temperature taken. One said, “Oh we are all out of thermometer caps”--a crushing statement to hear when you’ve had a fever for 3 weeks. Another one came in, and immediately said “I’ll go find one.” Sure enough, they did.
I do not have a medical degree. I am not pretending to know how to be a nurse. Like teaching, I know that it’s incredibly challenging and exhausting, and like teaching, I also know that some people are exceptional at it.
There are clear parallels between the attributes of extraordinary nurses and extraordinary teachers. Research continues to prove why strong relationships between teachers and students are so critical for student well-being and academic success. Important components of these relationships include connection, trust, credibility, and joy. We also have evidence that some teachers are able to take great curricula, and adapt it to support individual students without lowering the rigor. My husband’s night nurse didn’t dilute or skip his medication–she just figured out how he could take it and still sleep.
How can we study and develop these attributes further so that more people get a chance to not only receive extraordinary care but also be extraordinary themselves in their roles?
