Getting to the "Main Event"

Over the weekend, my mentor teacher from my first teaching job posted a link to this blog post. The teacher implores students to realize that the content learned in school is not the "main event." The teacher argues that the social and emotional learning that goes into getting up, getting to class, engaging with the material and others, and getting the work done is the main event of school.

I think I've always believed that. I nodded emphatically in graduate school when we were told we were going out into the world to teach students not content. I've embraced one-on-one conversations with students about how to change their attitude and believe in their ability to meet adversity with grace (instead of the oft used alternatives of yelling or shutting down).

But I'm not sure I've communicated to my students outside of our weekly community meetings why school's main events are about so much more than grades and sitting quietly for forty-five minute stretches. I'm going to share this blog post with them and discuss what it means to not quit and what support they need not to just make it through these last few weeks of school but to thrive in them. I'll report back on what I hear.

One of my teacher friends with whom I shared this link said she planned to edit out the "grow a pair" statement not for it's "colorful" aspect but because she doesn't want students to see success as gendered. I think Ms. C is spot on, and I'll be doing the same.

Group Work

First of all, my prayers go out to all those affected by Friday's school shooting. I haven't been able to read about the principal and teachers protecting their students and the kids' families without crying. I hope that in the coming weeks we can have meaningful conversations about what in our culture allows these tragedies to happen and what we can do about them (at home and abroad). Maybe one way to do that is to start using schools as places to build community.

I try to include plenty of group work in our classroom. I've bought into the idea that the 21st Century workplace requires teamwork and that group work is also a great way to build the community that I strive for so much.

But it sure is hard sometimes.

Jane doesn't like to work with John and Paul doesn't like group work at all. Lila will do all the work no matter which group she is in. Then there's that one time Dan, Joanie, and Zach made a beautiful presentation about what to do in the even to of a zombie apocalypse.

I know that a part of group work is not just turning students lose to produce whatever you've assigned but teaching students how to communication, collaborate, and create. Some tactics I've found useful are community meetings about what good groups look like, creating rubrics for group work rather than just the assignment itself, and reflections on what worked and what didn't in the group.

What works for you, teacher friends? For those of you not teaching, what skills about getting along with your co-workers do you wish you'd been explicitly taught?

Names, as always, have been changed.  

About Those Hats

Today was the first day of school, and school is so much better with students! I decided to let hats in the classroom. About three students took advantage of the allowance. I'm ultimately glad I did because I think it showed my students I am willing to figure out where they can have choices and where I need them to follow (a useful life skill, always).

School isn't working for a lot of students. They don't put school in what Glasser calls their "Quality World" (which is just a fancy way of saying that, for some students, educators haven't done a very good job of showing students why and how school matters. If it takes wearing a hat to let a student know that this is a place where he or she is welcomed, I'm willing to let that piece of my culture go. I trust that as we all work to show students that we have their best interests and hopes and dreams in mind, they'll listen when we say you shouldn't wear a hat to a job interview (or a job).

Ultimately, I took my direction from other teachers on my hall who know the school culture better than I. Nearly all of them allow hats. Nearly all of them seem to enjoy very meaningful relationships with their students. And all of them have students who go on to be very successful in a variety of ways. With and without hats on.

Hats Allowed?

My new school allows teachers to choose their policies on two highly contentious teenage possessions: hats and cellphones. I feel like I need to give the administration a little shout out for giving teachers the space to decide what works in the classroom, but I don't know what to do about hats!

I was raised that men always took their hats off upon entering a building. Women wearing ball caps also took those off. This action communicated respect to the people around you, especially your host. It also showed professionalism.

One of my colleagues pointed out that disallowing hats for that reason is making a cultural value judgment. What if your home culture doesn't equate respect with removing your hat? I definitely agree with being as open to other cultures as possible in the classroom (with the caveat being that I think it's also my responsibility to teach how students will be expected to act at jobs and college). I also like being able to see a student's face at all times.

So, what would you do?

Reward Me

Fellow teachers and other education enthusiasts, do you all subscribe to Education Week? I get their Teacher Update e-mails as well as their daily digest of interesting education news. Yesterday, I had an epiphany while reading about this study.

Students did better on tests and got better grades when they were rewarded before taking the assessment. The students also had to write briefly about what they planned to do with the rewards (older kids got money and younger kids got trophies). The paper posits that students did better because they were mentally holding themselves accountable for the reward they already received.

Even though this study looked primarily at extrinsic motivators for learning, I think I can get some great ideas for classroom management next year week. Those of you who followed along last year remember the work we had to do in first block to get students to act appropriately and foster a learning community. One thing I tried at another teacher's suggestion was a point system. We talked as a class about what specific behaviors would earn them points (taking turns talking, writing for the entire free write time, etc.). When they got to ten points, we had a party.

I hated that system. It felt manipulative. Students would often lose focus as they tried to point out to me that they had earned the point (resulting in the new expectation that points wouldn't be requested). But the system did seem to focus them on thinking about appropriate behavior in the classroom and that was what we needed.

I think a system that rewards first and asks questions later can create that same focus. I really like the idea of giving my students something (a pizza party, a few minutes to just talk, baked goods) and saying this is because I know you are going to do great things in here. That sort of system feels less like a bribe and more like a relationship. Any other ideas on specifics for this way of rewarding students?

I Am

I've been wanting to tell you all about some of the tools I used to help first block get focused on our academic community for the last few weeks of school, but things have been so crazy here! I had to blend some more punitive measures with some more information about why making the choice to be kind can benefit us and the people around us.

We had to pause both our sharing time after free writes and our weekly community meetings. I told students that I wanted to hear their voices but that the voices they share with the community need to be helpful to the group as a whole. It's a distraction from the work we have to do when I have to spend my time policing sexist jokes, students calling out, and words that are just plain mean and unhelpful.

Instead, I used the random acts of kindness slips our school uses to hold weekly drawings to have students think about who has helped them throughout the week. After two weeks of no sharing and no community meeting, I saw students really thinking about who they wanted to honor with their slips. We added back in free write sharing and the responses were longer, more thoughtful, and helped create a more positive atmosphere. A week after that we went back to our community meetings where students were then able to ask for things like a checklist of end-of-semester work and a more consistent enforcement of the bathroom/break policy. Throughout the second half of the semester, students have been able to earn points and when they get to ten as a class, there is a reward. They are just over halfway toward their third reward.

To get us all thinking about why the way we treat others matters just as much as the content we need to study, we watched Tom Shadyac's wonderful documentary I Am at the recommendation of another English teacher. Shadyac, who directed a slew of Jim Carrey movies, explores the science behind kindness (he is also a fellow 'Hoo!). The scientists he interviews explains that evolution has created in us a genetic need to help other humans. Our attention was captured by the scientific study of how a person's feelings can physiologically affect another person's feelings by electricity given off by the heart. At one point during the film, Shadyac sits facing a small dish of yogurt that is hooked up to a device that measures the electricity flowing through the yogurt's cultures. When Shadyac, who is not physically connected to the yogurt, thinks about experiences and people that are stressful (ex-wife, lawyer, agent, etc.), the electricity increases in the yogurt. Students had to analyze the documentary as a vehicle for presenting research as well as explain how they could apply what they learned from the video in our classroom community.

Finally, two girls from my eleventh grade class offered to come and speak to the ninth graders. I knew this would be risky, but I was proud of how the girls explained that they used to cut up in school and disrespect teachers. As they have grown up, however, they have realized just how beneficial learning and positive relationships with teachers can be. A few days after that, Student J wrote that letter I shared in my last blog post.

We aren't perfect in first block. I had to refer a student to the office after he lied to me about his whereabouts during an extremely long bathroom break. That student, however, ended that day coming to talk to me about how sorry he was about lying, that he didn't realize he was lying when he did, and that he also knew that our conversation didn't affect his consequences. He said he just wanted me to know that he was sorry and hadn't meant to be disrespectful when I tried so hard to show him respect and understanding after the recent passing of his older brother.

 Knowing what I do about the crazy teenaged brain, I believe that he was  telling the truth about lying instinctively rather than maliciously. I also know that we built some trust in the last few weeks. What fifteen-year-old boy comes to shed a few tears about his older brother's death with a teacher he doesn't trust? I will be grateful for the rest that comes after the school year ends, but I can't really say that I will be glad to see the students go on Friday.

Dear Ms. Thornton

Dear Ms. Thornton,

I want to say that I am sorry. I just want to let you know some things. First is that when I came to your class I thought you were kind of weird. But that's how I feel about all my teachers at first. Then I learned that you care but we were blinded by stupitity and obnoxiousness. Over the past month I think that I've seen you trying to reach out and help us. I think that the talking is going to stop. Second being in your classroom helped me realize when there is a time for fun there's also a time for work. It's not always possible to mix the two in a way that's not distracting. You have helped me grow up. You have helped me see that what I was doing was distracting and that it needed to stop. I now realize now that ou are a very interesting, fun teacher. And that just as much as I think I need respect, so do you. And if you're wondering, my mom didn't make me write this. I felt responsible, too. So, I just want to say sorry. Senseriously.

Your new friend,

J

Dear First Block

Dear First Block,

You know a lot of things about me. You know that I before I came to you all, I worked with elementary students who didn't speak English as their first (or maybe even second) language. You know that I also worked in an alternative high school for students who couldn't make traditional high school work for them. You know that from that place, I found out the importance of dialogue and teaching behavior just as often as I teach English. You know that I had planned to spend this weekend not thinking or doing anything school-related. But, if you've been paying attention as we've been getting to know each other this semester, you know that committing myself to forty-eight hours of not thinking about work wasn't likely to happen.

I keep thinking about you all and what needs to change for us. I think about our discussion in our community meeting about how I'm "mean" for expecting you to sign in and out to leave the classroom. I think about how I'm "unfair" for "yelling" at the wrong person for talking. I think about how hard it has been for many of you to take responsibility for your actions and realize that answering someone's question is still talking and that asking you to be quiet and raising my voice are two very different responses -- one of which happens pretty infrequently.

I also keep thinking about how many of you insisted that your other teachers let you leave class whenever you feel the need to, take late work even after the grading period ends, and aren't bothered by people up out of their seats for no apparent reason or pens becoming missiles. I checked with those teachers and they said they don't do those things. These all seem like normal teenage behavior, but that doesn't mean we have to accept it. We have to grow.  I feel like you all have taken advantage of my willingness to engage in discussions about our classroom community.

So, we're going to try something new. Tomorrow, two eleventh grade students who used to struggle with finding their place at school are going to come talk to you about how they behave in the class after yours and how rewarding and enriching they find that community because of everyone's choices to engage and work hard. Another teacher is going to come observe our class for a week and hand out detentions that will not be like when I ask you to stay after to talk about behaviors that are creating problems for you. We're going to see if you can start to frame your choices as yours if you see that other adults find similar issues with your talking and disrespect.

I'm not giving up on you or the power of dialogue in a classroom, but you're going to have to earn our community meetings back. I've recently realized that my classroom management philosophy comes out of my desire to teach habits rather than procedures when it comes to respectful, professional behavior. I think you all do not need to get in the habit of making your voices heard; you need to get in the habit of making them heard constructively. That's going to require some quiet time to think to yourself.

I know I seem mean and that it is hard to see how learning these behaviors now will benefit you in the future.  I hope that some day you will come to understand that I've given you this information and these expectations because I really care.

Love,
Ms. T

P.S. Cabin in the Woods was hilarious. I don't know what y'all were talking about.

It's Okay to Ask Them to Stop Talking

The book about my first-year of teaching might be called It's Okay to Ask Them to Stop Talking. The other contender is a gem uttered in first block this week: I Wasn't Talking. I Was Just Telling Him What He Could Get at McDonald's for Four Dollars. That one might be too long.  

 It may seem really simple and obvious, but something occurred to me at the end of last week talking to my mentor: It's my job to ask students to be quiet and respectful. It's not personal. I don't need to be angry. I just need to do my job.

"Duh, Maggie," says you.

But this realization has been a long time coming for me. I've tried a lot of strategies to get students to behave professionally and to understand why they need to. I've invested in their social and emotional learning just as much as their content knowledge. For those of you who know me in the real world, it will come as no surprise to know that I've thought about this a lot. Maybe I've over-thought it. So much of the literature first-year teachers are encouraged to read emphasize plans and procedures and rules. These tools can be helpful, but more helpful to me is a mindset.

The past week, the first with this mindset, went really smoothly. On Tuesday, one kid in first block got his warning and knew that if he showed disrespect again, he'd be sent to the office. He's fourteen and he couldn't help talking. That's okay. His brain isn't developed. My job is to help him as he grows and learns, so I sent him to the office saying the following, "This is where we are in your discipline plan right now. It's not the end of the world. Talking out of turn is just something you need to go work on." And it worked. He talked to the wonderful ninth grade assistant principal, got a consequence in after-school detention, and came back ready to work the rest of the week. I think this new mindset is going to make my work a lot less stressful.

I still have a couple of kids in first block who love to talk, especially about inappropriate topics, because they love attention. Two boys from that class came to me to ask me to send those two kids out more often. I felt gratified that those boys felt comfortable coming to talk to me about it, and I knew they were right. Both of the kids who are asking for attention just need to go talk to an administrator about how to seek attention in a healthy way. It's my job to get them there.

Spring Break(ing my foot)

My classroom blogging adventures began when I broke my foot last October. Things might heat up again around here because I refractured the thing while hiking too far in one day (applause, please). I don't know if it's the moderate amount of pain, the first day back from spring break, or the countdown the students all have going on till summer (thirty-six days, y'all), but today was rough.

My students talk over top of me and each other. A lot. This semester, my ninth graders are much worse than my eleventh graders, but that wasn't the case last semester. Today, after fourth block left, I found a note complaining that I yell all the time. Now, a certain amount of "all the time" can be attributed to teenage hyperbole, but I can't say I've never raised my voice in our classroom. I'm human, as my CI from grad school still helps me to remember. And as a human, I'm getting fed up with some students making inappropriate jokes, yawning in my face, and talking whenever they can find a space.

I've tried a lot of things -- talks in the hallway, staying after to help

students come up with plans to focus more, a few whole-class discussions about why the amount of chatting is a problem. I've had some success, but I remain really frustrated. I know I could be authoritarian and send kids who are repeat offenders to the office. They also seem to quiet down when I do some sort of direct instruction. So, I could just lecture all of the time. Neither of those options seem particularly appealing to me. I want a classroom where students learn to think and act critically but also show respect while doing so. This desire proves to be a tall order.

While hashing things out with some of my wonderful, wonderful colleagues, I mentioned the community meetings I've been trying on Friday where we air things out and try to

figure out how to make the next week better. One of my fellow teachers said this could be a problem. That she wants her students to express their opinion when it comes to content, but that she never wants them to have a say in classroom management. I think that line of thinking makes a lot of sense to a lot of teachers. Someone else pointed out you wouldn't voice a major concern in a faculty meeting, you'd go to the administrator in question to discuss issues.

But I just can't see myself teaching in that sort of classroom. I want students to feel empowered and to find a voice at school so they don't hate it and drop out or not get anything from it. I also want my students to show respect toward each other and me. Are these desires that at odds or have I just not figured out how to get them there yet?

Ms. Thornton, Are You Sexist?

I try to focus my classroom management plan on teaching kids how to behave rather than punishing them for making me mad. To this end, once someone has a warning for the day, the next step is to come talk to me and decide on a plan to help him or her reintegrate into the classroom smoothly. I like this system a lot. I think it helps me build those relationships that are proving key to student motivation (more on that next time). I also think it shows students that I'm not interested in wielding power in the classroom; I'm interested in helping them be successful (even if I'm not perfect at achieving this goal).

At times these meetings leave me with a lot to think about. Friday, I spoke with J. after he had spoken repeatedly when others were speaking. We were talking about how he could self-regulate and what I could do to help him consider others. He decided to switch seats. The feeling was good. Then he asked me a question that floors me still.

"Ms. Thornton, are you a sexist?" J. asked in that way that only a ninth grader can.

My mind raced. Had I kept boys after class more than girls? In trying to cover up my Jo March-like preference for teaching boys, had I been "nicer" to the girls? I asked J. what he meant and it was none of those things. He wondered if I was sexist because I had once shared with the class that I consider myself a feminist and that's why I prefer Ms. rather than Miss as an honorific. I told him no. I try my best to treat all people equally and certainly do my best to not show favoritism to students. What, I wondered, had made him think that being a feminist was equal to being a sexist.

"Well, I asked my science teacher if she was a feminist, and she said no because she likes all people," J. responded.

I felt a little like I'd been kicked in the chest. I'm still trying to figure out if his science teacher meant that, actually said that, or if J. was trying to deflect from the issue at hand. I was glad that J. couldn't point to any one thing that had happened in our classroom, but I'm also still kind of mad! I want very much to meet my students and my community where they are, but I don't think that means I could ever give up my understanding that a feminist is someone with the radical idea that men and women are equals. My mama raised me better than that.

Am I a Hack?

My apologies for the lack of blogging. The sprint to break, moving across town, and a friend's wedding really took it out of me Some time to reflect during break has me thinking about an issue that visited me often during the semester.

I'm guilty of talking up the hormonal teenager aspect of Romeo and Juliet, reading aloud the cursing in Of Mice and Men, and finding violent poems to share with my students. I'm not out to get their childhoods. Just their intrinsic motivation. And I keep coming back to one of the Big Questions I tell my kids to ask: Is this hack teaching? More importantly, is it good teaching?

I reject completely the view that we should treasure this young adults as little children and censor any texts that might make them angry or sad. But I am often reminded by how child-like they are as I was when one of my juniors told me that he looked forward to all the extra money he would have when he made $26,000 a year. These are people who need introducing into the adult world gradually.

Many of them already have at least one foot in that world. Most of my ninth graders could relate to a love so consuming it made you forget everything you held dear (including your previous love which also consumed you). The eleventh graders were not shocked by Steinbeck's use of language, but they were able to articulate that the language sounded like kids who had just discovered cursing and what that immature quality helped reveal about the men's characters. They were able to use a poem full of violent imagery about a young man who accidentally killed his younger brother on a hunting trip to discuss the complexities of our own hunting culture and practice their close reading skills.

But shouldn't I be able to get my students to hone these skills without sinking so low? How do we balance helping students find intrinsic motivation with respect for the waning years of their childhood? Will my hack teaching make students think that classes that don't dwell on the more lowbrow aspects of the material are boring? Perhaps this blog post should be longer, but I don't have any answers to these questions. I'd appreciate your insights!

Glasser v. Wong

I spent most of last week out of school because of the death of my grandpa. My family is doing alright and the school was very supportive giving me the time I needed to be there for the family. My students, however, played their subs like a two-dollar banjo, as Toby would say.

I was reminded of passages both in The First Days of School and Teach Like a Champion where teachers ran such ship shape classrooms, the kids would work in the teacher's absence while the administration didn't even know the teacher was running late. Doesn't that sound like an amazing dream? Just get students to buy in to daily procedures and everything will run smoothly, even in your absence?

Here's my problem: I'm really uncomfortable with procedures. I'm not uncomfortable with them for myself. I like that every other Saturday is clean sheet day. I enjoy etiquette handbooks. I love organizing everything from my closet to my tax returns. But I can't wrap my brain around the idea of getting kids excited about how fast they pass in papers or sitting them in alphabetical order because I said so or even because it's more efficient for them when it comes to passing in papers.

I don't think school should be about having someone tell you where to sit and how to behave all day every day. The real world doesn't work like that. No one makes sure there's an alarm set when I'm supposed to get up or go eat. Sometimes I have to sit beside people that I don't like. Sometimes I sit beside people I do like and end up getting shushed in the library. I make choices and I have to live with the consequences. My ability to turn in papers quickly or even a larger ability to listen blindly to authority doesn't really do much for me.

I also continue to be affected by my experiences at the Glasser Quality School where I did a practicum in grad school. Students were quiet. They were orderly. They definitely learned. There were no detentions or raised voices. There were five minute breaks and CHOICES -- a program where students set down with specially-trained teachers to make plans for how they would get their act together in the classroom. This worked because everyone in the school bought in, the kids knew this was their last chance to graduate, and class sizes were small.

I knew that my classroom couldn't be exactly like the ones I saw at the Glasser school. But I thought I could incorporate some of it, mostly the respect that students and teachers showed each other and the way that students were prepared to live with their consequences. Just like in the real world. But it doesn't always work at my school.

Students take breaks, after two infractions they stay after in detention to write out a plan, we sign the plan, they get better. Two weeks later, however, they start going downhill again. I think I need to get serious about calling parents after they make their plans. I think I also need to get serious about handing out detentions to my eleventh graders. I know that I could have them passing alphabetical ordered papers in less than twenty seconds. But I also know that seeing them live in the sort of world where that's the behavior I reward would break my heart. And I'm not really sure what of value that sort of system would teach them.