Monday, March 4, 2019

Do I Have To...?

When I sit back and think about it, I see that I am more like my students every day. Like them, I love recess, giggle at fart jokes, always want just 5 more minutes with my book, and think "because I said so" isn't a good enough reason to do something I don't want to do.

As I watch state, district, and school regulations increase in volume, I've noticed that the explanations for the procedures put in place get more and more vague. "It's our process," "Evidence has shown," and simply, "it's an expectation," are some of the lines we tend to get in response to the question: Why?

But, why is it our process? What evidence shows this? Whose expectation? These questions get little clarification.

The more I ask these questions, the more I come across to be dissentious. And maybe I am, a little. But mostly I question because I care and want to know. I ask because I take great pains to research, experiment, and observe the results of the pedagogical decisions I make in my classroom. Is it unreasonable to ask the same of those who are making decisions I'm required to implement?

Kids, lucky for them, are less trained in the art of subversive questioning. When they come across a task that they don't understand and don't want to do, it comes out in the much bolder form of "Ugh. Do I have to?"

What responses do I seek when I ask, essentially, Ugh (implied). Do I have to? 
I don't want to inspire frustration or distrust.
I am not demonstrating an inability or a laziness.
I am not trying to undermine another's authority.
I'm not trying to get out of doing work.

I just want to know why so that I may make sense of what I'm being asked to do and feel autonomy in my work.

So mustn't the same be true for my students? Don't they deserve a genuine answer to the question?
I didn't have to wait long for my theory to be put to the test. Earlier this week I'd introduced a task, explained the directions, was ready to get students started, and I heard, "Do we have to do this?"

My typical response would have been an patented teacher-look, an exasperated-sympathetic combo, or I'd have gone existential with "Everything we do is a choice, we don't have to do anything", or, if I was flustered, a simple, "Yes, you do." I'd have been a little irritated that whatever I'd worked to plan had been blown off track. I'd have been distracted and trying to get back to the clearly laid out sequence of events in my own head. And I'd be just a little be resentful of the student, wondering why he is unwilling to do what I so clearly know is a good learning experience. Is he being lazy? Trying to start trouble or derail the class?

And isn't all that, on some level, what I'm experiencing?

So this time I said, "No. Not at all. Here's what I was going for..." I walked over to the student and explained the task and its purpose. I told him, with no hint of sarcasm or irritation, that he could do something else that achieved the goals I had in mind. I was careful not to present false choices by offering some terrible alternative (another method I've tried before) or make an alternative sound like punishment. I genuinely didn't have an alternative in mind, but I told him there was certainly other ways to accomplish the same goals.

He considered me for a second, shrugged and said, "Ok. I'll do this."

Now, look, we all know I got off easy on this one, right? But it was a start. He just wanted to know why. And why shouldn't he?

My students don't want to blindly follow any more than I do. Like me, they probably aren't against what they're being asked to do, unless it contradicts what they believe to be valuable. And when that's truly the case, when the task that is asked of my students or of me isn't in sync with our values, is it too much to ask for that task to be reconsidered?

In light of this realization, I am going to pay it forward. To treat my students as I hope to be treated: With genuine consideration to tasks that cause push-back. With other options for tasks that they don't wanna do. With patience and compassion for the impulse to ask why. And with a funny fart joke every now and then.

Know Yourself, Know Your Students: How to use personality frameworks to humanize your classroom (part 4)

Using the personality frameworks in your classroom Over the past two months, I’ve been writing and thinking a lot about the work I did to us...