Trust in built in seconds

 

Trust Is Built in the Small Moments

I remember the day like it was yesterday. I had taught eight periods in a row and then stayed after school for a review session. When the review was finally over, I sat down in my chair and realized just how exhausted I was. I had barely begun to relax when Jasmine came over and asked, “Could we go over my FRQ?” My first response was, “Jasmine, I am exhausted. Can we do this tomorrow?” She said yes, but her eyes told me a different story. There was something behind that “yes” that told me she really needed help. So, I looked at her and said, “Come over here. Let’s look at this FRQ.” I was tired, but I knew that moment mattered.

John Gottman describes moments like these as “sliding glass door” moments—small, seemingly ordinary choices when we can turn toward someone or turn away. In those moments, we are either building trust or slowly chipping away at it. We often think trust is built through big promises or dramatic acts, but I believe trust is much more ordinary than that. It happens in conversations, in follow-through, in whether we listen when someone needs us, and in what we choose to do when no one is watching. Jasmine probably did not know it at the time, but that moment was bigger than an FRQ. It was an opportunity for me to show her that she could count on me.

When I previously blogged about generous assumptions, someone asked an important question: “Do you need trust?” The answer is yes. Generous assumptions and trust are deeply connected. It is difficult to give someone the benefit of doubt when we have no foundation of trust. Trust allows us to believe that people generally have good intentions, that they will communicate honestly, and that when something goes wrong, they will take responsibility. But trust does not appear magically. It has to be earned, and according to Brené Brown, there are several behaviors that help us build it.

The first is doing what you say you are going to do. One of the tenets of my former job was “under-promise and over-deliver.” There is wisdom in that idea. When we make promises, people form expectations around them. If we consistently say one thing and do another, trust begins to disappear. But when our words and our actions match, people learn that they can rely on us. It does not mean that we will never make a mistake or have to change plans. It means that our word has meaning. Trust grows when people can look at our actions and say, “I know I can count on you.”

The second is accountability. We all make mistakes. Every one of us will say the wrong thing, forget something, disappoint someone, or decide something we wish we could take back. Accountability means owning our part rather than looking for someone else to blame. It also means being willing to accept the apologies of others. If we expect people to acknowledge their mistakes, we have to be willing to acknowledge ours as well. The third element is what Brown calls the “vault.” When someone shares something with us in confidence, we protect it. We do not gossip about it, pass it along, or use someone else's vulnerability as conversation. And this matters because if we are constantly sharing other people's secrets, people will naturally wonder, “What makes me think my secrets are safe with you?”

Trust is not built in one grand moment. It is built through hundreds of small choices—the sliding glass door moments when we decide whether to turn toward someone or turn away. Sometimes it means staying a few extra minutes when we are tired because we recognize that someone needs us. Sometimes it means keeping our word, owning our mistakes, or protecting something that someone trusted us to keep private. These moments may seem small to us, but they are often the moments people remember. Jasmine's FRQ was never really about the FRQ. It was about what happened when she needed me, and I had a choice. Trust is built when our actions quietly tell people, “You matter. You are safe with me. You can count on me.”

If you want, I can also make this more personal and conversational, with a stronger “teacher reflection” voice and a more memorable opening and closing