When in doubt, move closer

  It is all-school meeting.  We are gathered on the carpet of our common room for announcements and commendations.  Some students are flopped over each other, some stand slightly outside the circle. The "circle" is really more like a sloppy oval that someone really unskilled with an etch a sketch might draw.  There are always a few students who get fidgety and began to murmur or giggle to the person next to them.  Teachers may shush them, but then another one pops up.  I don't expect perfect silence, but I find myself grumpy by the end of these meetings.

Today, I want to feel less grumpy. It's just the fifty or so high school students, as the middle school is holding their own meeting.   So after the announcements, I spontaneously try a simple drill when I sense that people are beginning to lose their focus. It is so simple, yet so effective.  It goes something like this:

"Ok, everyone stand up."  (They stand)
"Ok, now everyone move in about a foot or two" (Curious, they walk closer, and the circle is instantly more intimate)
"Now, stop talking."  (The room falls silent.  It's as if we are playing Simon Says.)
"Now, just like that--without talking--sit down."  (They sit.  They are still quiet)

It's amazing. They are focused again.

And somehow (or perhaps it was my imagination), this simple tightening of the circle--and perhaps the brief pause in the meeting--helps change the dynamic of the rest of the meeting.  Students listen closely to celebrations and commendations, and the closer proximity even seems to lend itself to these sweet articulations of gratitude to teachers and to peers.

Classroom management is a dance--a dance of planning and implementing curriculum carefully,  establishing routines, of managing student numbers, and moving yourself around the room, as you use a variety of voice levels and one-liners ("eyes up here" or "it's her turn" or, "it's all about me now").  The dance doesn't stop with the details, for it's also about how you connect with students.  Mutual respect goes a long with with this dance.  Sometimes, behavioral problems can be solved with a simple rearrangement of  the space you have--from moving desks, to asking students to stand around me in a semi circle while I give directions.  Sometimes, a pause in speaking or moving is helpful (see my blog post about other benefits of the pause).

Sometimes, like today, simply moving a little closer makes all the difference.

Here are some other tips for classroom management:

1.  Use routines, like silent reading or journal writing at the start of class to help students make the transition into working.  I know some teachers who tell a quick story at the beginning of class, or do a math problem warm-up.

2. Be consistent: whether you use discipline slips, yellow/red cards, or old fashioned consequences like cleaning your board after school, try your best to always use these.  When students know what to expect, it's easier for them to contain their distracting behaviors.

3. Mix it up: students often misbehave when they're bored.  Like it or not, many of us have short attention spans, and a change in activity can help us sustain interest.  My rule of thumb is to have some opportunity for writing or reading, some opportunity for talking (ideally, students talking more than me), and some chance to move/do or watch something (a quick YouTube video or Ted Talk or whatever is relevant to the lesson)

4. Alway have the agenda on the board, and ideally, with time estimations.  I've had students tell me that they really like to know what's up, and how long it'll last.  Sometimes students act out when they don't know what to do or when they don't know where things are going.  A simple "roadmap" can do wonders for behavior.

Embrace the Mess: Collaborative, Student-driven Projects

Embracing the messiness of important learning . . .

Student's display on Frank Sinatra. 

I'm getting ready for it--the mess in my classroom.  In fact, it has already begun.  Today, there were three tri-fold display boards, splayed across tables next to a huge paper cutter, piles of cut paper strips, scattered glue sticks, and scissors as I wove my way to my desk.  A sewing dummy, wearing a cute forties jacket shares space with the desktop. In the next several days--if all goes well--my room will slowly collect objects--an old record player and radio from the 1940s, fabric, lamps, and other odd objects.  One week from today, a couple classrooms, along with the adjoining common room will be transformed into a "living museum" of the 1940s--the culmination of a 8-week unit for two sections of 9/10th graders.

A student's display in progress on fashion of the 1940s.

But it's not the physical mess that is most challenging.  The other mess I refer to is letting go (somewhat) of control--allowing students to plan and create.  After all, I don't know what they will come up with for the museum, and though my humanities colleague and I guide them with rubrics, ideas, pictures from past years, and they have a solid background of the era, it's up to them to create a space that takes us into the past. And the museum opens to the public.  Student-led projects like this, with an authentic audience, require me to let go, to truly trust that the students will create something of value and that they are learning.  It means I'll feel that little pit in my stomach as I watch the inevitably rocky start of the group planning--as students bicker and brainstorm, bicker some more, and then come up with some vague idea before they prance off to lunch, and I'm sitting there thinking, it's not happening.  Every year I watch the beginning and think, nope, they are going to run out of time; they're going to continue to waste time and argue.  Then, a week or so later, I walk into a space that resembles a dimly lit 1920's speakeasy, with jazz, dancing flappers, a table of card players, and organized displays on topics such as music, art, and politics of the 1920s.  I watch in wonderment as students act as a forties "family" in a mock living room, complete with newspapers and Life magazines from the 1940s that they (or I) found at local thrift stores. They've even rolled paper "cigarettes" because they want to be authentic of the era.  For the sixties, we've burned "draft cards" and created anti-war posters.  For the last ten or so years that I've been assigning this project, the students have always come through.  But the beginning is hard to watch.

I tell students, this is your mantra this week.

As I told my students today, collaboration is hard.  Yet you can't avoid it, so it's worth practicing.  And as I go from group to group, stepping in to help with the process or an idea, I know that they're practicing crucial skills.  As they flounder  (and yesterday this looked like two students monopolizing the brainstorming session with an argument), they must learn strategies to communicate more effectively (today I watched a student grab a marker from a desk and tell her group assertively, "we need a talking stick!").  Today, I reminded them of the important skill of delegating, and I watched later as one student asked a "wandering" student if he could go find her something her group needed. These are skills we don't necessarily teach in schools, yet almost any job (not to speak of family life) will require some form of collaboration.

Learning to swing dance

So, I embrace the messiness of learning: learning to work with others, to create quality visual presentations, to innovate, to communicate knowledge to an outside audience, and to manage time.  In a week, I'll be in the common room enjoying a students' performance of Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, listening to "Henry Wallace" give a speech, getting my "ration tickets," and eating Wonder Bread and Spam from the 1940s cafe.

Top Five Tips for student-driven projects:
1. Before and as they start, show and discuss models from past years (of writing, displays, any final products)
2. Make the planning visible: post planning sheets, to-do lists, supplies lists, and schedules.
3. Create small groups, making sure that there's some student leadership in each one.
4. Stress that the goal is the final project, but also remind them of and assess the skills that they're practicing: collaboration, communication, and problem solving.  Provide (and model) tools for collaborating effectively.
5. Provide an authentic, out of school audience, if possible, for the final project. Parents, alumni, and local community members are often willing to come support student work.

Student's display on V.P. Wallace that raised the bar: now all students want 3-D parts on their tri-folds.

Learning to dance the Charleston in the "speakeasy" from past 1920s Project

Vignette from past 1940s "Living Museum".  One year we even purchased a giant old radio from the decade.  Sometimes, antique stores are willing to loan us clothing and artifacts.

How to grow a student writer, in ten easy steps

How to grow a writer: A simple, but crucial step-by-step approach:

1. Start early.

Surround your sapling-writer with books--and read often.  Tell them stories about themselves.
The goals:
They delight in the sound of words.
They observe the world around them.
They want to tell stories.

 2. Once settled into school, encourage dabbling in all genres. Provide a sampling of writing assignments, encouraging her to find her writing voice.  Does she do humor?  Memoir?  Poetry? Historical fiction?  Newspaper articles or book reviews?  Whenever you can, allow her to choose topics for writing--perhaps within a theme.

Have you tried 2nd person?  Read Lorrie Moore's satirical essay,  How to become a Writer

3. Be an enthusiastic reader.  Criticize lightly.  Read her work in a comfortable chair, with a cup of something yummy next to you (rather than with a red pen and a tired frown).
Respond as a reader might: I loved this because I could imagine being in this spot you describe or, This is funny! or,  Huh--I was confused here. What's missing? Or, if you're really at a loss, I sense that your heart wasn't in this--  want to start again?

Don't edit for spelling until you have to.

4. Cultivate people to share her writing pieces with, but only when she's comfortable doing so, and maybe even let her choose her partner.  Provide the peer-reader with specific things to respond to (for instance, what is the main point the writer seems to want to make?)

5. If you have the right conditions, two writers can write something together  (Examples:  a scene of dialogue, perhaps a whole play--perhaps an abridged re-make of Macbeth, that is then performed).

6. Provide models!  How can he know how to write without seeing how others do it?  Read lots and ask him to "point" to specifically what he likes (or doesn't like).
Sample recommendation:  short memoir piece, My Name, by Sandra Cisneros.

Please note: Novels by John Green have been know to cultivate massive reading habits, and this can't hurt the writing habit.  

7. Demystify the writer's process: Share your own possibly painful, evolved writing process; invite writers into the classroom, and have them share their process. Invite peers to talk about how they write. (great essay, A. Lamott's Shitty First Drafts)

8. Seek authentic readers for your growing writer (and keep those diverse assignments coming):

Hold a poetry/fiction reading with low stakes and chocolate-covered strawberries.  Instead of forcing shy ones to read out loud, place stories at tables with comfy chairs for others to read and respond to.
Have her start a blog.
Have him send his essay to your parents or to your smart, kind friends for feedback.
Tell her to send a funny letter to your friend, telling her (creative) lies about what you do in the classroom.
Put on a performance of their ten-minute plays at an evening event.  Send invitations to parents, local writers and alumni.

9. Be patient with your writer.  She will grow!

10. Water regularly . . . with specific feedback and encouragement (and the rule for semicolons).

                       Celebrate--you've put another writer in the world!

Commendations and Celebrations

Post-Film Festival commendations are rolled around a treat for each student

My all-time favorite faculty meeting activity: all of us draw the name of one of our colleagues and spend a few minutes writing that person a note.  We either describe what we appreciate about them, or perhaps give them one "wish" (anything from a painless, successful completion of report cards to a weekend in the Caribbean).  I think we do this twice a year, and I still have most of the notes I've received through the years, stuffed into a folder that I take out once in while if I'm feeling low.

I've noticed that it's easy to hold in our minds the negative stories we tell ourselves, or the inklings of criticism that others have shared with us.  Or maybe that's just me.  In my experience, it's harder to hold on to the complements I've received and the successes I've enjoyed.  In the same way, I think students tend to experience school (partially) as a place to receive criticism, and I wonder how this impacts their learning.  I think teachers--in our desire to see improvements in our students--tend to forget to call students out on their achievements.  Yes, schools have annual award ceremonies where the "successful students" are publicly recognized for good grades or sports, but I'm talking about the smaller, equally important moments of success--perhaps when a student stayed after class and helped you clean your white board, or the time a quiet student raised his hand in class.  Or, maybe a student (finally) mastered the use of the semi-colon.

Do you remember getting a paper back from a teacher that highlighted only the positive aspects of your writing?  I wonder how that would have changed your writing practice. I remember reading in graduate school about a study that found that specific positive feedback on student writing was just as effective as marking errors. Seems counterintuitive, I know.  In any case, it's clear to me that students think of teachers as the judges, the critics--not the cheerleaders.  Yes, it's our job to help students improve and to learn from their mistakes, so of course, we need to point out weaknesses and errors.  But what if we spent as much time calling attention to the positive as we did the negative?

I call for more commendations and celebrations.

Here's some specific ideas:

1. After the recent film festival at school, which also marks the end of a challenging 6-week course (see my last post), I wanted to highlight a positive from each student's work in class.  I typed up brief, but specific messages and rolled them around a couple tootsie pops (I know, sugar is bad), placing each one on a program that the students could use for their portfolios. The students were excited to see a little prize after their hard work on their films, and even though they'll get a report card for the class, those messages highlighted something very specific, with no hint of constructive criticism. I also have them write a lengthy reflection, and I feel certain that this initial boost gave some of them a place to start, or helped put them in a mindset to look closely at their performance.

2. If your school has all-school meetings, use part of that time to commend.  Allow students and teachers to commend each other for a minor (or major) academic accomplishment or a moment of generosity. We've been doing commendations at all-school meetings at Compass School for years, and students have become good at appreciating not only each other but their teachers as well.  This could be done in a school newsletter or assembly, but works best in a setting where students feel comfortable enough speaking up.

3. And finally, you could spend a few moments each week e-mailing a couple parents (and cc'ing the  students' themselves) about a positive moment from class.  Maybe their child aced a vocabulary quiz, helped a peer with a math problem, or just exhibited a positive attitude all week. Especially at the high school level, parents often don't hear very much about what's going on at school, so I find that these notes are much appreciated.  I tend to do this when I've had a hard week, and I am in whine mode.  Counter intuitive again, perhaps, but I find that it makes all the difference on a Friday afternoon if I commend rather than criticize.


So, I commend you all for reading this post and for considering who you'd like to celebrate.  Well done.
 

Best Teaching Tool Ever? The Pause.

One of the most undervalued teaching strategies of all time?

 

The pause.

I was reminded of this tool the other day when my student (let's call him Sam, even though it's not even close to his real name) launched into reasons that he couldn't possibly do any homework for the next week.  Sam has the challenging mix of some anxiety, a need to process verbally, and a tendency to speak in extremes.  So, too often I find myself in a verbal tangle with him.
 He gets me (nearly) every time.

To avoid the tangle with Sam, it's as simple as remembering to pause.  If I don't get pulled into his faulty line of logic and anxiety-ridden thoughts, I can diffuse his anxiety (and mine). The pause not only gives me a chance to remind myself to not get snared by his story, but it also allows me to listen fully.  In turn, my full attention helps him calm down.

Other places for the pause in the classroom:

1. Post-Question Pause: Obviously, pause after you ask a question.  That's teacher training 101.  But wait longer than you think you need to, and see what happens.  I think we are often so in a hurry to get to the (our) point in the discussion, or we're uncomfortable with silence, that we rush the post-question pause.  Just wait, glance at your shoes--like you could wait all day if you needed to.  Sometimes students just need a little processing time. Or, they think you'll just answer the question without them.

Also, by pausing, you're reminding them that it's not all about your thoughts.  Invite their thoughts--by not giving them yours so frequently.  If you really want deeper thinking, and not just obligatory answers, try responding with: "I hadn't thought of that.  What do others think?"  Or, "I'm intrigued, tell me more about that."

See this blog for a helpful discussion of the importance of higher order questioning, including a question bank

2. Pause of Patience: when you want your students to really hear you, pause.  Perhaps for dramatic effect, or if you're in the middle of a sentence, and you realize that some students have drifted off, or heaven forbid, turned to talk to someone more interesting than you, just pause.  Not in an evil-eye, shaming way, but just a little moment of breath, as if to say, come back.  I'm waiting patiently.

3. Pause before a decision. Teachers make hundreds of decisions a day.  At times, I'm sure I make them without thinking.  A student may ask me for an alternative assignment, an extension, or to leave the room, for instance.  A pause gives me the chance to collect my thoughts, ask myself what my goal is with the assignment, and stay firm--or be flexible.

4. Pause before pouncing: after a student says something offensive to your sensibilities, take a breath. That could be a difficult one.  A racist or sexist remark, usually said in ignorant innocence, can derail a class. In the past, I think I jumped too quickly--not down their throats, but perhaps close.  Now I take a breath, and think about how to respond.  Then I'm ready to grab onto a possible teaching moment.

5, Finally, pause to praise: those moments of genuine specific praise (I like how you've been listening to each other or "thank you for focusing for these last few minutes") can go a long way.

So, I invite you to try out the pause more often in your classroom--and in your life, for that matter.