Constructing Kasun, Educator

Today I was blessed.   I don’t know how else to put it.

A student I taught three years ago visited me.  He was a transfer from a nearby high school in a different district.  His writing skills were barely high enough to merit placement by my district’s standards in my class.  Verb tenses were muddled, and sometimes I wasn’t sure of what he was trying to say in his writing.  But during discussions, he often shined with his insights and his tenacious approach to understanding what we were discussing.

While he was in my class, I recognized that grit and determination.  He talked about how hard he trained for soccer for both my school and outside leagues.  During the off-season, he spent most days in training.  I watched him play for my high school team and realized he wasn’t the next Pele, but he was determined.

Last year I wrote one of his college recommendation letters.  He had big dreams of going to Division I schools to play soccer.  But, because he hadn’t worked quite as hard in academic schoolwork, he ended up being recruited by a small school in North Carolina.  He’d have to pay half the tuition to attend.  I wondered if he’d really do it.

Today he found me in another teacher’s classroom.  “Miss, I’ve come to find you three times this year.  I finally found you,” he smiled.  “Things are going really, really well.”

Since we had talked so much last year about his filling out the paperwork for college by himself and how to try to get into college, I guessed, but still wondered, that his quick assessment meant he was in college and doing well.

He is in college and playing soccer.  His first semester went ok academically, but now he’s knuckling down and studying a lot more.  “I really like the way my world civilizations professor teaches us.  He’s teaching us how to read and how to study,” he said.  “I got a 100 on our last test!”

He tells me his parents are extremely proud of him.  He’s unashamed of the fact that they couldn’t help him figure out how to approach college.  Instead, he’s just happy that he’s making them happy.

And, today, without his knowing it, he made me happier than I’ve been in a very long time.  I know he had help from his soccer coaches in the past and other teachers, but I couldn’t help myself from sharing a bit of the pride his parents feel in his accomplishments.

After reading more of Barry Lane’s After the End, I realized it was time to work more explicitly on question formation with my students, especially as a writing revision strategy.

Boy, was it fun.  I brought in a big cowgirl hat I  had bought in Mexico a few years ago and asked students to make up questions to find out about it.  Rapid-fire, they asked, “Where’d you get it? What size is it?  Who is it for?  Does it fit your dog? Why were you trying to hide your dog?”  etc.  They smiled and laughed as their questions led them into the story about how I hid my dog from the hotel staff where I was staying one weekend in a sleepy beach town in Mexico.  I borrowed the hat idea directly from Lane, who has his own funny hat he uses for a similar activity.

Next, I shared a short poem I wrote in honor of the student I have who asks the most quetions this year, Akram.  Sometimes (and he admits this), he asks questions just to make the time pass by.  We’re working on that, but, other times he asks questions that make me and the rest of the class think.  What more could I want?  The poem addresses those qualities, and I let the students know I want them to always question–that questioning is what intelligent people do.  And that they can become more intelligent via the questions they ask.   Later they asked me lots of questions about the poem as an exercise in revision.

We also reviewed the genres we’ve been writing in class, and–you guessed–they had to come up with questions about the genres.  We talked about why epitaphs are important (based on their questions), how poetry helps people express themselves, and how monologues and biographies are different.  That was all based on their questions–not my ideas for class discussion.

Finally, the students did a freewrite of questions.  They spent the last seven minutes of class listing all the questions they could think of.  As a quick concluding activity, I asked for a show of hands about if the students felt they were using their brains more.  It’s no surprise they agreed (though they were surprised) that they felt they were using their brains more in that class than most.

We’ll go back to questions.  They’re waiting to see my revision of my poem based on their questions, and then they’ll practice some questioning on their own pieces of writing.

Let it snow.  That’s what we say in schools where an inch of snow shuts down our school system.  It seems immature, for sure.

I can’t explain the joy of the first snow day.  The inner child gleefully embraces the stolen time off.  I go back to bed while my husband readies himself for his work.  A couple hours later I go downstairs to find pure daylight and read the morning paper.  I don’t just read the news section but take in the style, metro, and business sections as well.  Then I consider the possibilities.  A walk to the gym for a weekday morning workout?  Go to the neighborhood cafe for some cuppa and a good book?  Clean the house?  Call my mom?  The possibilities are limitless.

We spent six days off last week, two for a weekend, one for a holiday, and three because of snow and ice.  I couldn’t bring myself to come to the blog.  Forgive my absence.  I’m back, for now.  Unless it snows again tomorrow… there’s a threat of the scary “wintry mix.”

Sometimes it’s easy to romanticize the people you work with. Aggravating quirks can turn into “endearing” qualities, for instance. Other times there’s no danger in romanticizing. You know you simply don’t like some colleagues.

This week, the “world’s best administrator”–as I’ve referred to her–unexpectedly lost her husband. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, but seeing this happen to her–an outstanding educator and friend–is unsettling, to say the least.

The reaction at school was incredible. Students wrote poems and cards and sent them to her. I was with her when she read some of them. A pop-out frog face made her laugh; another student swore she’d take my administrator’s place and bear this burden for her. Teachers and administrators accompanied her and her friends each day to let her know that we love her.

Her husband, who I did not know, was eulogized as a loving, intense person whose biggest accomplishment was marrying my administrator. At the funeral yesterday, the pews were packed, primarily by people who wanted to pay tribute to the man who supported a woman who has touched so many of us–with her unwavering support and creative solutions to the unending problems of public education. Many of us were members of the school where she works.

The staff at my school were informed on Tuesday. At every turn I heard people asking what they could do to help her. Some took food. Some made home visits. Some chipped in for flowers. Others offered prayers. Most of us tried to run the school as best we could in her absence as a tribute to the professionalism she demonstrates each day. Petty grievances among colleagues dissolved as we looked for ways to stretch and be better educators, despite our differences.

I still can’t sort out why my administrator suffered this loss (in addition to the loss of her mother a few months ago) this way. But one of the most unexpected graces is how I’ve finally seen that school–MY school–can be a community when presented with the challenge.

Today was Day #2 of letting my kids be in control in class. It’s only the second time I’ve seen them after breaking the ideas about building a community from Alfie Kohn to them. OK, I’m still navigating the line between being the adult with more knowledge and life experience and allowing students to negotiate their own ideas through careful thought, articulation, and discussion among themselves. It’s exciting and still scary.

I guess because I believe in my students that I’m not surprised they did well. We reviewed how we would discuss as a group and then got to work quickly. We examined several art slides for different themes. The students also made meaning of the pieces they observed. Klimt’s “The Kiss” suddenly became “Death Grip” for some and “Unity” or “Pure Love” for others. Some students were surprised and disconcerted that the forms of the two bodies are not proportioned realistically. Amira pointed out that the woman is wearing a dress–something I had never realized before. They enjoyed the slides as well as the discussion.

The few students I have who seemed to have chips on their shoulders toward me seem to be losing them. Nuku used to ask me, “Why you always pickin’ on me?” Now she isn’t asking. Why? Because I’m not picking on her. Simple, isn’t it? The group does most of the shushing and careful listening. Instead, Nuku is spending her time trying to come up with clever titles for the pieces we’re looking at and sharing them with the group.

My most energetic group returned today as well. Charles was angry because he couldn’t find a seat near his friends in the circle. I found myself threatening him to take a seat. It was a relief that that other class members were also frustrated and telling him to sit down. But I’m still wondering what I/we can do to make the community become a place where none of the students are frustrated because they can’t sit near their friends for one day. I’m still working on that. This group eventually got to work on the slides and did well. Most agreed that today’s class went better than the last one. I’m optimistic that the communities in each class will continue to take real form.

posted on January 8, 2007

Yesterday was my first attempt at letting my high school ESOL students run the class. Today, I worked with my third and final class (I am also a department chair so do not teach a full courseload in my district).

Most of the students wanted the circle forum for discussion as opposed to the rows they had been in. A student asked, “What are you going to do if we don’t like it?” She seemed incredulous that I would seriously listen to her and change the seating arrangement. I asked if she didn’t like it. She said it felt too open. Almost all the others liked the seating, so I asked her to try it and see if she liked it. I explained that teachers are in the business of trying to teach, and the best we’ve usually come up with is dominating kids into submission, and that even for me the open space felt scary. What would happen if I really let them, the students control the class, I asked. She agreed to go ahead with the circle.

This group was rather quick at establishing the framework for how to talk with each other in the discussion circle, so we got to work.

To some degree, I still help direct a lot of the conversation, but the students are free to comment much more. The students were deciding which ideas qualify as themes or non-themes in literature. They’re working with the definition of theme as something they find in art which helps them understand life’s meaning–something that’s bigger than an object itself. One of the students said that “cats” are not themes. This led into a lively discussion as to whether or not domestic animals have feelings. No, this wasn’t directly related to themes, but I watched as students challenged each other’s thinking in proactive ways (when I sometimes stepped in and asked students how they wanted to talk to each other).

We had a small problem with some students having small side conversations while the whole group was trying to speak. Other students reminded them to be quiet, and the small side discussions seemed to grow smaller with the reminders. We ended with a discussion about whether “family” is a theme. One girl who has a special education label argued that family is a theme because when you hear the word family it makes you feel something. Another boy countered that family is the thing from which you might feel certain themes like love or betrayal. Different students took both sides and challenged each other. I allowed myself to break in and explain that both sides had presented logical arguments, and that we couldn’t conclue one way or another, definitively, that one side was correct. I pointed out that life is not always easily right or wrong and that we need to learn to really listen to each other to understand the different sides of a debate.

I asked the students if they had listened more in today’s class than in previous classes. They agreed that they had. While I didn’t “cover” all the curriculum I had planned, we did go deep into discussions that were meaningful to the students and helpful in learning how to negotiate. I’m looking forward to seeing how this works with the second day of discussion circle on Monday.

originally written  January 5, 2007

I made a frightening step today. I let the students have control over my class. I’m not talking about letting a few of them call on other students or give presentations or work in groups. I sat down, in a circle with them, and explained that I’m not going to control the class anymore.
I’m excellent at getting the students to sit quietly. I challenge the ones who dare to disobey. I ignore students who make comments that are nonsensical. I give the “teacher” look. But after seven years of teaching, I’m tried of making students obey me. My classroom isn’t a correctional facility. I want them to learn because they know on the inside that what we do in my classroom is for each of them, is something they desire and can use.
After reading Alfie Kohn’s Beyond Discipline: from Compliance to Community over the winter break, I decided it was time to try his theory out. He’s a constructivist, and so am I (in theory, not always in practice, regrettably). Why not stop trying to manipulate students with looks, tone of voice, and calculated gestures? Why not try to treat them honestly, with dignity and respect?
So I told my students I had read Kohn’s book. They know a lot about what I read because as a high school ESOL teacher, I want to share my enthusiasm about what I read with them. I brought the book and told them about it. I also told them I wanted them to run the discussion.
I tried it with each of two classes who met for 90 minutes. It’s almost the middle of the year, so I had an idea of what to expect. I guessed the first class would embrace the idea immediately and get to work on how we could communicate effectively by sitting in a circle instead of rows. My first question was if they liked the circle. It only took us a few seconds to establish that they preferred the circle to rows, “You can see everyone this way,” one said. “I can hear people better.” The next issue was how to talk. Some students wanted me to do the disciplining of others who might misbehave. I refused, explaining that I’m not going to continue to mete out punishments and rewards any longer. They then agreed that we would speak without raising our hands until there were too many people who wanted to talk, and then we’d have to call on people by looking for who had their hand raised first. We also figured out what to do if a person has their head on a desk during class. At first some of the students thought it was the problem of the student, but I pointed out that as part of a community—which they agree to try and create—we might worry about that student. We agreed that the student should let us know they’re having a bad day if that’s the posture they want to take.
Finally we got to some of the curricular work. We have been discussing themes. I had an activity where students picked out words which weren’t really themes in a list. They described why some of the words weren’t themes in pairs and then to the larger group. This was the best discussion I think I’ve ever had. Yes, one student tried to test the limits by saying that shoes really are a theme in literature because he wants to take his shoes with him to Heaven, but the other students finally agreed that it was time to move on. I didn’t cut off the conversation; they agreed that they wouldn’t all come to consensus, that it was ok, that it was time to continue. At the end of class I asked the students if they liked the dynamic; they said they loved it.
The next group was a bit more reluctant. Some of the more energetic young men joked during the discussion. One suggested “backhanding” students who talk out of turn. But instead of my having to bring the discussion around again, other students called on the young men and explained that it wasn’t fair of them to joke and not take the situation seriously. At first they were angry about being criticized, and I suggested gentle ways we could agree to offer criticism, and the student most vocal in her criticism rephrased it in a way that pointed out the behavior she didn’t like without accusing the young men of being bad people. There are a few students in that class who have what appear to be extreme emotional issues. One student has told us that he feels “rage” when people pick on him. That young man has seen many atrocities of civil war in Sierra Leone, where he grew up. Another young man mentioned getting hit with a whip at home for misbehaving at school; I can only imagine what kinds of violence he has endured. And there are other students with challenging issues. But, like I told the students today, I have the faith in them to believe that we can all treat each other with dignity and respect in our classroom community.
I have one more group of students to try this with. I’m confident they’re going to like it and will do well. I’m looking forward to hearing the students formulate ideas and really listen to each other. They are learning to negotiate in honest and earnest ways. And, like I’ve said to them, if they learn how to care about each other and negotiate well, that will be the most important part of what I will teach them all year.

Written Thursday, Jan. 4, 2007