by Sara Viveiros, Middle School Humanities Teacher at St. Andrew’s School in Barrington Rhode Island
I remember one of the first times we tried peer feedback in my class. I asked each middle school student to read a peer’s essay and offer suggestions for improvement. I assumed this would be a great way for students to practice their editing and communication skills.
I equipped them with definitions of constructive and critical feedback, a checklist of things to look for (like word choice, spelling, and punctuation), and paired them based on whom I thought would work well together. We even practiced beforehand. We analyzed sample essays and rehearsed how to deliver feedback in ways that would be well-received.
It all sounded like it was planned and ready to go, right?
Wrong.
About ten minutes into the peer editing session, one of my students stormed away from her editor and sat in the hallway, back against the wall, tears streaming down her face. She had poured her heart and soul into her essay. Writing had become part of her identity. So when she saw all the red marks and margin comments her classmate had made, she didn’t hear, “This will make your writing better.” She heard, “Your work is terrible!”
This editing session completely backfired. Instead of fostering revision and growth, I ended up with a student who couldn’t bear to look at her own essay again.
It was an uncomfortable moment for both students. One felt embarrassed and attacked; the other felt like she had done something wrong even though she hadn’t. One became afraid to receive feedback. The other became afraid to give it.
Where did I go wrong?
At gcLi, we emphasize that feedback is a gift. It is an opportunity to learn and grow. And I genuinely believe that. Well, I believe it now.
But that hasn’t always been the case.
In the early years of my teaching career, feedback from colleagues or administrators didn’t feel like a gift. It was something that I stressed out over. In my twenties, I agonized over missteps in my lesson delivery and questioned my ability as an educator. I berated myself for oversights and missed learning opportunities.
But as I grew more confident in my role, something shifted. I began to notice the incredible work of the teachers around me. I sought out their advice. I asked administrators to observe my most challenging classes because I genuinely wanted their suggestions. That transition from fearing feedback to craving it wasn’t quick, but it was transformative.
So, as I sat consoling the student holding her marked-up essay, I thought: How can I expect middle schoolers to accept feedback positively when many adults can’t?
That moment prompted a shift in my approach. I wanted to show students that I valued their feedback, too. I had spent so much time teaching them how to give feedback, but I had missed the opportunities to show them how to receive it.
I began incorporating end-of-semester feedback forms. In my Language Arts classes, I asked students what they thought about the books we read and the assignments we completed. I encouraged them to tell me what they’d change about the class. I asked which titles should stay on the reading list and which we could pitch.
And I listened.
Students shared their thoughtful, honest opinions. They shared great ideas, and I incorporated some of their suggestions into future classes.
Feedback also began happening in the moment. After presentations or activities, the class was open for discussions. Students were asked what they liked, what they didn’t, and why. We had conversations about the assignments they felt they could really engage with, and we talked about the ones they suggested be changed for next year. I was deliberately creating a culture where feedback was valued. It wasn’t enough to just say feedback was important; it was about demonstrating that I meant it.
I made a point to always thank students for their insight and asked follow-up questions when I wanted more detail. If someone said, “I didn’t like this book,” I didn’t let the conversation stop there. I asked, “Why? What didn’t you enjoy about it? Would you have preferred a different genre? Was it the author’s use of symbolism? Was it too long or too short?” I asked specific questions because I genuinely wanted to understand their perspectives. I also wanted my students to know that leaders aren’t the people who are always right. Leaders are the ones who are always looking to improve.
There was also a noticeable shift in the quality of feedback students were giving. It became more detailed, more specific, more actionable. The students who had previously been hesitant to share their thoughts started becoming more confident in giving advice. Those who had previously offered blunt critiques, began offering more thoughtful and constructive suggestions.
At the University of Pennsylvania’s Graduate School of Education we talked extensively about the role of feedback in teacher observations and supervision. Through the program, it was emphasized that observations should be frequent, and feedback should be authentic and actionable. We discussed the importance of avoiding performative scenarios in which teachers do what they think the evaluator wants to see. We talked about the platitudes that observers sometimes give like, “you did a great job!” And while these statements are nice to hear, they don’t lead to meaningful growth or improvement.
I realized that feedback in my classroom had to mirror those same principles. It needed to be regular, honest, and aimed at improvement.
I knew that I didn’t want the peer editing sessions of my classroom to be performances and empty compliments. I wanted them to be something that all of my students valued and took seriously.
When I think back to that student in the hallway, it reminds me of how much I still had to learn about feedback, both as a teacher and as a person. I realized that creating an environment where feedback is truly valued means embracing it ourselves—openly, without fear. It’s not just about correcting mistakes or pointing out what needs to change; it’s about fostering a culture where everyone feels comfortable improving. Feedback, after all, isn’t about perfection. It’s about progress. Helping each other grow really is a gift.
If we want our students to embrace feedback, then we have to model what it looks like to seek it, receive it, and use it to improve.
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Sara Viveiros is a faculty member in the Humanities Department at St. Andrew’s School in Barrington, Rhode Island. She also facilitates the Leadership Workshop, a class that helps middle school students navigate social situations, develop self-awareness and critical thinking skills, and foster leadership skills grounded in empathy. Sara attended the gcLi Leadership Lab in 2023, and was the recipient of the gcLi Leadership Grant. She recently earned a Master’s Degree in School Leadership from the University of Pennsylvania.