The Balance Between Support and Stretch

What stepping back into the classroom reminded me about helping people grow.

The age of authority is going down.
But the age of maturity may be going up.

I shared that phrase on LinkedIn recently and people responded immediately.

I think it struck a nerve because many of us are trying to figure out the same thing right now: how to support people well while still helping them grow into the responsibilities of adulthood and professional life.

This semester I stepped back into the classroom to teach Theatre History, and the experience has given me a front-row seat to that tension.

I began the term with a strong focus on engagement and trust. The students and I co-created a class agreement — the kind of shared container that allows people to take risks, speak up, and feel like they belong in the room.

It worked. Attendance was high. Participation was lively. For a while the classroom had the feeling of a small summer-camp community — people showing up, leaning in, enjoying the conversations.

And then the real work of learning began.

As the first assignments came in, I noticed something. Many students were thoughtful and engaged, but the muscles for analytical thinking and concise writing weren’t as strong as they needed to be. Making connections between ideas, building an argument, and communicating it clearly on the page was harder than many expected.

I had a quiet moment with myself.

“Damn,” I thought. How do I stay the encouraging professor everyone enjoys… and still slow the class down enough to build those muscles?

It would have been easy to keep things light. To keep everyone feeling good. To avoid the grind of repetition and revision. Any teacher knows the temptation: keep the energy high, avoid frustration, protect the course evaluations, and move the class along.

But good coaching rarely feels friction-free.

So we slowed down.

We practiced the same analytical process again and again. I clarified expectations, strengthened the rubric, and responded to students who asked for more guidance about how their work was being evaluated. At one point I felt a little guilty that the grading framework hadn’t been fully fleshed out on day one.

But the truth is that some clarity only comes after you see the work in front of you. Once I understood where the real stretch points were, I could adjust expectations and be clearer about what strong analysis actually looked like.

Something else became clear as well. Some students dove into the rubric and immediately used it to sharpen their thinking. Others needed more scaffolding and more practice before the structure began to click. It was a good reminder that different learners need different levels of guidance along the way.

But across the board, the repetition mattered.

By midterm, the shift was noticeable. The writing was sharper. The connections were clearer. Students were beginning to see not just what the assignment required, but how their thinking could evolve through practice.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was growth.

This experience has stayed with me as I think about the conversations I’m having with leaders about onboarding and coaching younger employees in the workplace.

Most organizations today are rightly focused on creating supportive environments. Leaders want psychological safety. They want employees to feel respected, heard, and included.

Those instincts are good.

But at some point development also requires something else: practice, repetition, and the willingness to struggle a little while new skills take shape.

Belonging creates the container.

But development happens inside the work.

As we head into spring break, I can feel the fatigue in the room.

The students are tired.
And honestly, so am I.

Growth takes energy — for the person doing the learning and for the person doing the coaching. It would be easier sometimes to keep things comfortable, to smooth the rough edges, to let everyone feel successful and move on.

But I’m reminded that real development rarely happens in the easy moments.

It happens when trust is strong enough to hold a little stretch — and when both teachers and leaders are willing to stay in that space long enough for growth to take root.

-Mary