Conversations
February 6th, 2010I’m doing some experimenting with my management system, since it’s not as efficient as it could be. I’ve become more lenient than I should have. However, tightening up again has so far resulted in mostly misery, which I’m taking as a sign that the approach I’ve been trying isn’t natural to me or my students, a poor fit. It’s a work in progress.
I have been thinking so much about management for a few reasons. Superficially, there’s been a lot more observation lately and I need to be in full control of my classroom. More fundamentally, with a lot of our objectives still not fulfilled, efficiency is more important than ever. But I’ve also had a few enlightening conversations lately, one with my roommate, who teaches 9th grade English and has also been having management woes. He’s realized that in order for management to be effective, kids need to own why they’re being punished, especially for chronic cases, and a consequence for the sake of a consequence is not really helpful.
I’ve realized that many of the consequences available to me are merely consequences for the sake of consequences, which I think is at the root of why I’ve been sparing with the write-up. I’m not bothered by punishing a kid who deserves it; though I’d love it if all my students loved me, I won’t lose any sleep if they dislike me for administering consequences justly. But I’ve gotten the sense that in-school suspension, for many students, is simply a wrist-slap.
Which brings me to the conversation I had today with P, a student in my fourth hour. P spent lunch in my room because he wanted to study for his economics test, and he got put out (mistakenly) of his 6th period class, my prep period. We got onto the subject of discipline because of this circumstance, and he argued that corporal punishment is a much more effective system than ISD, because all students would want to avoid corporal punishment, while not all see the negative effects of ISD.
“To me, a write up is just as bad as a whupping,” he said (and I’m paraphrasing a bit), “because then when I go to ISD my grades will drop, and my dad will find out and punish me, I won’t get to go to the game, won’t get to holler at any girls, you know” (that part was a direct quote) “so I see why I want to avoid that. But other kids just don’t see that. They go to ISD, get out, think, oh, ok, now that’s over. And they keep acting the same.”
Pretty insightful. Combined with his observations on others in his class (“you know they just act like that because they think your reactions are funny”) and the distinction between fair and equal—not everyone has the same burdens, but we’ve all got to deal with burdens anyway—it was an enlightening conversation.
We also talked about teaching style. “Learning just isn’t fun anymore,” he said, and then qualified it—math is, sometimes, and science, and English used to be—and I asked him what distinguished a “fun” subject/class from a not fun one. And his response was hugely telling. Comparing his two English teachers, he said that he enjoyed Mr. X’s class, because they’d read something independently, then interpret it, teacher and student together. In Ms. Y’s class, though, they read, interpret, and are graded on their independent interpretation—apparently before any modeling or guiding happens. Sometimes, P said, it made him almost scared to go to class.
It seems like an obvious point, that fear of failure is prevalent here. It also seems an obvious conclusion that often, the reason students don’t do their work is not because they’re lazy, or fighting authority; it’s simply because they don’t know how and are afraid to fail. This is something that’s easy to forget when on the other side of the red pen, when you know how to solve quadratic equations or read Shakespeare, but it’s also easy enough to remember not always knowing how to do those things.
I try not to judge other teachers (a silly thing to do based on less than a year of experience, anyway, and not helpful to anyone) particularly based on such a small sample size of information. I’ve been very lucky to have had intensive training on the lesson cycle and release of responsibility to the students. I believe that a number of already very good teachers I work with would benefit from the professional development I’ve had, as I would benefit from their years of experience. I’m nowhere near being able to diagnose the achievement gap, or even its particular manifestation in the Delta, my district, my school, but one part of the problem is that good, well-intentioned, intelligent teachers are simply missing training, knowledge and professional resources.
It’s tempting sometimes, when hearing “learning should be fun!” to scoff. Hey, they’re here to learn something. I shouldn’t have to dance around and juggle and jump through hoops, right? But P’s conversation reminded me I don’t have to—well, not for some students. Some students could use a little confetti and hoop-jumping, if only as an attention grabber. But isn’t curiosity a pretty fundamental human drive? Learning something new is evolutionarily rewarding, so it makes sense that it’s a pleasure. So at the very least, my lessons should not impede the natural reward of discovery.
