Embracing the Unexpected Guest
There is a unique silence that settles over the classroom the moment another adult walks in. Students glance up. You keep teaching, but there is a shift, subtle, but palpable. A notebook appears. A quiet seat is taken. You’ve just been observed.
Lesson observations are a familiar part of school life, yet they often come with a sense of unease. For many teachers, including myself, they have not always been welcome moments. No matter how long you have been teaching or how well prepared you are, having a colleague watch your lesson can stir up all kinds of emotions, nervousness, self-doubt, or even the pressure to perform.
As someone who prides themselves on being well prepared, I used to wrestle with this feeling. I plan each lesson with intention, ensuring that students are engaged and challenged. Still, I found myself hoping to figure out when an observation would happen, so I could somehow “be even better” on that day. The irony was not lost on me: despite giving my best every day, I still feared that one lesson might be the one where I got it all wrong.
Lesson observations can feel deeply personal, and they used to feel that way to me too. We invest so much of ourselves in our students, our lessons, and our classroom routines. So, when feedback comes, even when it is constructive, it can easily feel like a spotlight on everything we are doing wrong.
Over the past few years, however, lesson observations have become an established part of our school culture. They are no longer occasional disruptions but intentional practices that help us grow together as educators. This shift in perspective has made all the difference.
Instead of seeing observations as critique, I started seeing them as invitations to grow. They became opportunities to reflect, to learn from others, and to gain a fresh perspective on the way I teach. Sometimes, a colleague notices something I have overlooked or affirms a strength I had not recognised.
Proverbs 27:17, "As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another," has deeply encouraged me in this process. This verse reminds me that God uses others to refine and grow us. We are not meant to teach in isolation but to sharpen one another, to support and challenge each other for the good of our students and the glory of God.
As a school, we seek to instil the virtues of strength, wisdom, and humility, not only in our students, but also in our staff. These virtues have become the foundation of how I approach observations. It takes strength to stand open to feedback when it would be easier to retreat into routine. It takes wisdom to reflect honestly and recognise the moments where growth is needed. And it takes humility to say, “I don’t know everything, but I’m willing to learn.”
What began as something I tried to avoid has become something I now value. I have gone from anticipating observations with anxiety to welcoming them with a sense of gratitude. It is not because I have become perfect, but because I have come to see the beauty in growing together. Lesson observations are no longer just about being evaluated. They are about being refined, together, as a team of professionals committed to becoming better for the sake of those we teach.
They also offer something else: unity. When colleagues step into one another’s classrooms, it opens up space for encouragement, collaboration, and shared vision. We begin to understand the challenges others face, and we often walk away with new ideas and inspiration. What once felt like a test now feels like a moment of connection, a reminder that we are part of something bigger than our own classroom walls.
Today, observations are a reflection of who we are as a school: a community that values growth, seeks excellence, and models what it means to be lifelong learners. They are a visible reminder of our commitment to living out the virtues we want our students to embrace. Growth, teachability, and reflection are not just classroom expectations; they are the way we teach, lead, and serve.
And so, while the unexpected guest at the door may still bring a flicker of nerves, it now also brings hope. A hope that learning continues, that feedback leads to flourishing, and that, in all things, we grow stronger together.