Every teacher has to figure out who they are and how they best interact with students. For me, looking back after 23 years in the classroom, that journey quickly led to a realization: young people get a lot of empty praise. When everything is celebrated at the highest level, genuine feedback becomes meaningless or expected. That approach simply doesn’t work for me in terms of both personality and educational philosophy, and I don’t think it works for my students, either.

The most important principle I’ve developed is straightforward: I don’t treat my students like children. I treat them like any other human deserving of honesty and respect. While I adjust my language based on their developmental stage and emotional state, being genuine is the most respectful thing I can do. Students deserve valid praise and honest feedback about areas for improvement, just like anyone else.

The Power of Specificity

This approach comes to life weekly in a creative club I advise where students share everything from homemade cookies to astrophotography. In these sessions, I see my role as someone who genuinely supports their work, but I consciously resist the easy path of generic enthusiasm.

It’s tempting to just say “Wow, that’s great!” and move on. Instead, I work hard to find something specific to mention – an element I particularly responded to, an interesting choice they made, or a technique that stood out. Sometimes the most powerful feedback comes in the form of genuine questions: “Why did you choose this approach?” or “What was this experience like for you?”

I’ve never encountered student work without finding something genuine to appreciate or express curiosity about. That specificity makes all the difference between meaningful engagement and empty platitudes.

When it comes to more critical feedback, I tend to be direct, though this approach requires careful framing. I try to help students understand that when something doesn’t work out, that’s simply a point of data, not a criticism of them as people. The fact that they tried is already something worth celebrating, because without attempts, there’s nothing to improve upon.

I’ve found that framing matters tremendously. Phrases like “from my perspective” or “have you considered this?” create space for dialogue rather than dictating changes. I might say, “I wondered about this when I saw it” or “I’m a little concerned about this approach. What do you think?” This invites students into a conversation about their work rather than positioning me as the ultimate authority.

That said, I recognize that some students aren’t ready for my directness. There have been times when my approach has triggered emotional responses — something I take very seriously. When this happens, I first assess whether they need time before we talk further. Sometimes a few minutes to process is all that’s needed.

I’m not afraid to apologize when my approach misses the mark, either. If a student has a negative emotional reaction, the information I was trying to convey becomes much harder for them to hear and act upon, which means I’ve failed in my communication. A heartfelt apology, an explanation of my intentions, and a promise to try to do better in the future can help bridge that gap.

Interestingly, some students who initially struggled with my direct feedback have developed stronger relationships with me over time. I believe it’s valuable for students to experience having their work and assumptions questioned, and to encounter challenging standards. Sometimes I’ll simply ask a student if they believe they’ve submitted their best work — a question that can be startling but important.

Technology as a Feedback Tool

Digital tools have transformed how I deliver feedback in ways that enhance both specificity and student dignity. One of my most effective techniques is creating short screencasts where I talk through their work, zooming in on specific elements as I discuss them. This approach allows everyone in class to simultaneously receive personalized feedback while maintaining privacy. Students use headphones to listen to my observations, after which I can touch base with them individually.

These screencasts, along with comment features in tools like Google Docs, provide students with a permanent record they can revisit – essentially creating a roadmap for improvement based on specific elements of their work.

An Evolving Approach

My feedback philosophy has evolved considerably over two decades of teaching. As someone naturally enthusiastic and positive, I initially expressed genuine excitement about student work without much structure. However, I began noticing that certain students seemed accustomed to receiving empty platitudes. They’d heard generic praise so often it had lost meaning.

That observation sparked a significant shift in my approach. I became more deliberate about connecting my enthusiasm to specific choices students had made through their own agency. Rather than praising intrinsic qualities (“you’re so smart”), I focused on decisions that led to positive outcomes (“the way you approached this problem showed really creative thinking”).

Perhaps most importantly, I now incorporate peer feedback into my classes whenever possible. This gives students practice in both giving and receiving feedback — positive and constructive — while I guide them through best practices: being specific, starting with genuine compliments, and framing constructive criticism thoughtfully.

My ultimate hope is that students understand that I take them seriously as complete individuals, not just as children. When I praise them, it’s genuine recognition of something truly deserving. When I suggest improvements, it’s because I believe in their capacity to produce their best work and become their best selves.

This approach to feedback isn’t just about improving assignments. It’s about developing the resilience and discernment needed to evaluate their own work and collaborate effectively with others throughout their lives.