The patterns of a year include the breaks: the winter break, we have a mid-winter one, and now the spring one is on its way. There is a change of energy, and moreover, stress, that comes with the change of seasons and the realization we may not be as far along as we’d hope. We adults, by and large, are mature enough to know what we need to do to regain inspiration, motivation, and determination, but many of our students do not. Take a moment and think about how your year is going right now — take a look at the landscape–what is working, and what is not?
In How to Teach Resilience by Paul Tough, he explores the paradox of “teaching” noncognitive skills–they can’t be taught, at least not in a traditional, rote manner. “Grit” does not, nor should it, be assessed in any way, either. Many educators have misused the concept of grit, and as an unintended consequence add more stress. I know I’ve done this, and stop myself short when my “motivational” talks become “lectures.”
So what are some concrete means to teach the abstract, the unassessable? Here are some steps I take and will take again, along this journey:
Renew the bond: start off the class with the greeting in a more formal, intentional way, as I did at the beginning of the year.
Start the class with a minute of mindfulness: just breathe.
Bring back our First Fifteen minutes of reading–not sure how that got in the ditch, but time to tow it out again.
Construct/personalize progress: I’ve been starting a new approach about grades: there are some assignments that are non-negotiable, but others that students can choose to complete a set amount of points: for example, a choice of ten articles to read to complete 70 points for an annotated bibliography. I’ll report back on how this worked, or what could improve.
What sorts of routines do you start the year with, and then sometimes get off track? How do you renew safety and consistency in your classrooms? Any suggestions or ideas are more than welcome.
Testing season!! WOOOOT! And the advice is coming ON, yo! All you need to do is look up some of your favorite bloggers and websites to find loads of saucy ideas to keep your mind from going insane while you ‘actively monitor’ the testing hours.
One of my favorites, is of course from Love, Teach:
I added a new category today: Not Going Insane. Rule #2*: Keep Sharp. As I wash the room with waves of butcher paper, I will think to myself the cost/benefit analysis of having so many children test while my degrees and talents just spend time…thinking. The thing about Love’s ideas is they’re too good to waste on testing days. I think it would be much cooler to share them ahead of time and see if kids can guess. Or, play a raffle or game where the kids put in their ideas and are drawn for prizes after testing.
Note: Some strong language is used in this video, and may be offensive.
This may be the current medium of choice among young adults, and it’s one I thoroughly endorse in format. However, examining the draw of listening/watching, the speed of discourse, and the power of convincing others of a point of view when packaged visually can be dangerous.
Ask your second students which videos offend them, and why. We’re in the midst of embroiled discussions about gender and race (and zombies) currently, and you may find out some very interesting things. Be prepared to keep an open mind.
When we step away from the big, unknowable, terrifying forest of our day, fearing to tread into another emotional imbroglio, collegial drama, or poisonous-tipped toxic gossip, sometimes the right words come at the right time. At this time of the year especially: the testing season is about to begin, teachers are fatigued, repetitive and micro-managed meetings begin to dispirit versus inspire, it’s time to take a close look at the relationships we have and carry with our students and colleagues, and most importantly ourselves. How do we begin anew and maintain the positive energy and hope we and our students desperately seek?
I honestly could not begin to list the multiple, highly disrespectful acts this learner has directed towards me in the few months we’ve known each other. He’s insulted the way I look, the way I dress, and even my family who’s pictures are on my desk. He’s screamed obscenities, called me names, and constantly walked away as I was trying to talk to him. In my early years, these actions would have absolutely crushed me. I would have either reacted by kicking him out of my class or breaking down in tears. I would have asked myself, “What did I do to deserve this?”
But I know that none of these outbursts are truly directed towards me. I simply represent every adult that has ever failed him in the past. His frustrations are simply a manifestation of everything he cannot control. The hand that he’s been so unfairly dealt brings with it a level of stress and frustration that, again, I cannot relate to. The need for confrontation has little to nothing to do with his opinion of me, but instead is a biological necessity to relieve the pressure that’s been building within the depths of his soul.As an adult who holds him to a certain level of standards, I place myself directly in the line of fire to this barrage every single day.
So, I’ve learned to forgive and forget. Depending on the severity of the outburst, whether it’s directed towards me or another student, or whether it places anyone’s safety in jeopardy, I’ve responded accordingly with required disciplinary measures. But, when I see him again, I treat him as if the incident didn’t happen. I make sure he understands that his past will never define him in my eyes- even the very recent past.
Most of our students have emotional trauma of one sort or another: it’s not to be dismissed, but nor is it to become fetishized.
Tapping into empathy is difficult, and takes profound emotional effort, and it can’t be a one-way relational direction. That may sound obvious, but consider the oxygen mask idea – in order to save others, you must first save yourself.
Understanding how our brains work may be the first order of business for an adolescent brain.
The student who seems intent on the power struggle may have ODD or Oppositional Defiance Disorder. I am not a licensed mental health care provider, but we encounter many students suffering from trauma and other mental health care needs.
Oppositional Defiant Disorder, otherwise known as ODD, is a condition in which children regularly demonstrate anger, opposition, and defiance, especially toward those in authority.
These four tips will help any teacher, rookie or veteran, stay calm when encountering a child with ODD. Some students who’ve displayed this have had severe abuse/trauma events, and are doing everything they can to maintain control of their surroundings.
Be mindful with tip #2 about choices: choices can sometimes overwhelm, and when providing choice give agency and direction, but not overstimulate.
I feel you.
Though our staff has shared some of these, this one inspired me to think of a project:
Between our intent, our hearts, and our minds I am feeling rejuvenated with these amazing resources. When all else fails, I take off my ‘teacher’ mindset and just meditate and remember what it’s like to be in 8th grade. It can suck. Cringe-worthy awkward moments, others telling you to think about the world outside your own perspective, and fighting cognitive dissonance between what we know we need and want to do, and finding more emotional obstacles than climbing Mt. Everest without oxygen tanks: it’s tougher on them than it is on me. I don’t want to make it worse.
The term “power play/struggle” in education translates to: “teacher has a petty request that the student won’t comply with until she either gets irritated to the point of raising her voice and/or stops an escalation of an event to the point of no return.”
Did you ever get involved in a power play? I sure have, not many, but a few here and there. But since I came into teaching in my forties, and had two sons of my own about the same age as my students when I started, most of the power plays or struggles came with small costs, a lot of reflection, and many apologies on my part. They were handled between me, the student, other teammates and sometimes the parent. Most power struggles are headed off at the pass by prevention measures:
Have a routine. (Get composition book, something to write with or borrow a pencil from me, read the board, read the learning targets: when I am standing in the ‘teacher spot’ time to listen, and then get going!)
State expectations clearly, and rationale why.
Example: No food in the classroom. Our building is old and in the heart of a city. There are vermin. I don’t want vermin in my class, or the building.
Example: food. Your red Gatorade and Hot Cheetos can potentially stain the carpet, or get micro crumbs in your laptop keyboard. Oh, and it’s killing you.
Example: You need a charged laptop every day. Not charged? You can bring your charger to my class. Don’t have it? Sit next to mine and use it.
Know your quirks. Mine? No music while reading. Side conversations. Removing all oxygen from the room with your constant shouting and talking out.
Understand emotional states: Explain that yes, sometimes they will be bored. And that’s okay. And it’s okay to be confused. And to not know everything…and to know things, too.
Know your cool spots. Mine? Allowing music sometimes. Allowing random discussions about what is on their minds. Reading books they recommend to me. Asking permission to share their work. Telling them how much I love them. Apologizing if necessary. Knowing they are somebody’s baby. (My personal teaching motto/creed/mantra.)
Valerie Strauss of the Washington Post posted a letter by educator Amy Murray, Teacher to parents: About THAT kid (the one who hits, disrupts and influences YOUR kid). I could have written it. This afternoon I was having an imaginary conversation with a parent of a student. (Note: anecdotally this is about many students–we all have students who seek attention.) This student is so smart, and…so bored in my class. He blurts out the endings of stories, talks over instructions, and when challenged to offer alternatives or choice, has nothing further to offer. I want to be this student’s, well, if I can’t be his favorite, then at least someone he can respect and do well. I don’t need to be any student’s favorite, I just need them to know I’m there for them, and maybe in ways they don’t recognize yet. That may not happen, and that’s okay. As long as he knows he will find that place, that person, in and out of his own family, circle of friends, etc. I just have 29 other little ‘someone’s baby’ to take care of, too, in that class.
Relationship building is an interesting situation. Conflicts happen. I may not be able to adjust for bias, assumptions, and backward-facing trauma, but I do have a proven record of relationship building, and can’t let others make me doubt this skill or who I am at my core.
So let’s add #6: Self-respect. Let students know respect can’t thrive without self-respect first. Be confident, be yourself, and be better.