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God Bless the Child
How about
this for "Reality Programming." The following
literary masterpieces are from a participant in Teach for
America. If
you think the US has a chance, it can only be thanks to people like this.
These are the experiences of a first year teacher in Harlem.
December
20, 2000
Greetings,
It is 7:30 on Saturday morning, and for the third consecutive weekend, I
have awakened with my class in my head. I keep asking my kids to leave, but,
like so many of the things I request of them, they refuse. I remember when I
first started this educational odyssey (more mine than theirs) and folks
would tell me that kids will test you all the time. What I didn't understand
then is that they mean kids will test you ALL the time. My students know
they are supposed to empty their bags and hang up their coats in the closet
every morning when they come in. I tell them every morning. It is written on
the board every morning. And every morning, there are kids who leave their
jackets on (it is not because the classroom is cold, I keep the windows open
all day to let the furnace blast escape) and/or hang their bags on the back
of their chairs. I fight them every day. I have some friends who recently
had a baby. I don't have the slightest clue how a parent does it. Kids will
test you ALL the time.
I'm sure that there are highly paid engineers holed up in places like MIT
who are trying to convert the power of adolescent stubbornness into a
reusable energy source. I'm not going to figure it out on my own. What I
have to get better at, and quick, is learning to separate the saint-like
behavior from the sinful. With the holiday season upon us, the tenuous
control I had over my charges is disappearing faster than Aunt Carol's
Christmas cookies. I am lucky if I get through two lessons before chaos
(wrestling matches, paper throwing, tag) overwhelm the class. Anything is
infinitely more interesting than whatever it is the crazy white guy in the
tie is talking about. A knock on the door, an announcement over the
loudspeaker, a pencil dropping - these seemingly minor events lead to epic
social commentaries by my panel of pubescent pundits. The other day a
student was in the middle of responding to a question I had posed to the
class when, mid sentence, he turned to a friend and started up another
conversation, seemingly forgetting that his mouth was already otherwise
engaged. Many of the students are as impatient with the clowns as I am, and
they mutter, "I hate this class," just loud enough for me to hear,
frequently when we miss recess because we have to practice walking on line
in the hallway. Like any politician, I have to keep reminding myself to keep
the "good students" - my constituents - happy.
This is best illustrated by an extraordinarily complex moment that occurred
Friday. We were coming up the stairs from the playground. It was actually
our second attempt at coming back in since our first one was so miserable.
Unfortunately, we were going up a "down" staircase. I have no idea
whether I
initially sent them up the wrong one or they did it on their own (things
happen so fast). But at this particular moment, a little boy who I think is
in special education - a designation for students with severe
learning/emotional problems - was negotiating his way down the stairs. He
quickly became engulfed in my class. Then he began shrieking, the kind of
sound you might hear in the Exorcist. When I came back down to see what was going on, a bunch of my kids were pressed up against him in a corner
taunting him. I lost it. I saw it as the ultimate manifestation of the evil
that some of my kids are capable of.
I rushed them up the stairs as fast as I could, trying to separate them from
the boy. We got in the class and I began launching into a tirade when I
noticed that I was still missing a few students. So I ran back down and
found them surrounding the boy. "You have no idea how much trouble you
are
in," was the first thing out of my mouth. Five students yelled back:
"we are
helping him." Thankfully, I heard them and quietly told them it was
time to
get back to class. Whether or not they could have actually helped him is
doubtful, but I realized that while the intent of the first group of
students (yes, mostly boys) was to torment the boy, for this second group
(yes, mostly girls), they thought they were helping him. Herding the
stragglers into the classroom I decided that I was jumping to conclusions
too quickly and not taking the time to hear or understand my kids. I was
insulting the students who were trying to do the right thing by treating
them like the troublemakers.
On the other hand, I absolutely identified with that little boy. He was
confronted with a situation he was unprepared to deal with and reacted
instinctively, expressing his fear and confusion. I had done the same thing,
assuming all my students were intent on terrorizing him and reacting with my
base instinct: get angry and start shouting. I needed to find a better way
of communicating so I could 1) understand what my students were saying and
2) make sure they understood what I was communicating. So I stopped talking.
I spent the last hour of class communicating only through gestures
and words written on the chalkboard. I had learned recently that the quieter I
respond to their noise, the quieter their reaction. That what I often heard
when the class got noisy was my own voice. That, since they wanted to drown me out, they would only get louder. So I took it a step further and just got
rid of my voice all together.
I wrote a series of questions on the board and the students were instructed
to write responses. Some questions were about the little boy, some were
about how they felt when they were scared, and some were about how they
learn best. The last question was, "can you learn from someone who is
different from you, for example if he can't speak?" Then I requested
volunteers to respond verbally to the question, "what do you think this
lesson was about?" Many talked about the little boy, saying "treat
others
the way you want to be treated." This of course generated the standard
counter argument, "he pushed me first." Some tied the lesson to
our hallway
behavior, saying my not speaking was punishment. Others took it at face
value and said I was simply looking for "opinions." But everyone
who wanted
to speak had to get the entire class's attention before sharing. You should
have seen their faces drop when they got to the front of the room and
realized the daunting task of having to quiet the crowd. It was a good
lesson for some of my more garrulous students.
The "lesson," (if that's what it was), ended with my writing on
the board,
"I will not speak if the class won't listen." Several students
protested
saying, "I'm listening!" I caught myself, intent on not falling
into the
same trap of lumping the students of my class in with those who merely
occupy seats in the room. So I wrote "raise your hand if you are
listening,"
and I went around the room, pointing to every student with their hand up and
bowing deeply. Finally I wrote, "I care." Then we lined up as best
we could
and I walked them out, still without speaking.
I would love to tell you that my mute act won the class over and they
suddenly calmed down and allowed their inner angels to unfold their wings.
Sorry, I'm no Meryl Streep and this ain't no movie. What I can tell you is
that my non-verbal hour was no less effective than my usual classroom
management. For discipline I would simply point and, once I had the
offender's attention, either point to their chair or put a finger over my
lips. They usually acquiesced, momentarily. I even broke up a fight and sent
the combatants to the office to be suspended, without uttering a word. The
most interesting thing: the student whose hostility toward me is the most
disruptive force in class reacted to my silent commands with the same anger
as my verbal ones, screwing his face up in a sneer and crying, "I
didn't do
nothing!" What does it mean that my non-verbal management has the same
net effect as my verbal?
But I did learn something. Those who were paying attention figured out how
to decode my gestures and together we created a new, acceptable pattern of behavior and instruction. This confirmed a couple of things that I
suspected. I have about ten students who are so motivated to learn, I could
leash a Saint Bernard to the blackboard and they would try to learn from it.
Another 10 or so will learn if they pay attention, so I have to keep
thinking of ways to keep them hooked. And I have yet to find a way of
communicating effectively to another three to five students.
Despite all the noise and mayhem, all the lectures and threats, all the
failed lessons, there is learning going on in my classroom. We just finished
the second theme in the reading book. The test scores from the first test
were abysmal, an average of 41%. On this latest test, they averaged 65%.
Every student except for two improved their score. While it does show that
the students are learning, it is a much better reflection of the fact that
their teacher is learning to teach.
After the insanity of the past few days (months?), a week off could not have
come at a better time for me. But I do dread what awaits me next year. My
assistant principal said they come back from Christmas break even
squirrelier, since many do not get the presents they wanted, or their folks
fought the whole time, or their cousin got better stuff. It calms down
around Martin Luther King Jr. Day, she assured me. That's alright. With the
help from an incredibly generous reader of the humble Harlem Tattletaler, I
might have a secret weapon for what awaits me on the other side of December.
Stay tuned and have a happy holiday, whatever form it might take.
One final note on angels and devils. We recently finished a writing project
on holiday wishes. This is the stuff to make you cry. A couple of students
wished for lots of presents, of course. But the stories that touched my
heart this holiday season were the ones who wished to spend time with
deceased grandparents, wished that all families could be together for
Christmas, wished for a hug from her father. Here I am trying to teach them
the meaning of the holidays, and many of them demonstrate that they already know it better than I do. My last assignment this week is to teach them
persuasive writing. The topic: the existence of Santa Claus. So far I am in the extreme minority of those choosing the opinion, "I still want to
believe
in Santa." Maybe I can still teach them hope.
February
25, 2001
Greetings.
"If you are not part of the solution, you are part of the
problem." This
saying haunted me during my various career paths when I knew I was not doing
much to solve problems of any social merit. It is part of the reason I
started teaching. After five months of traveling down this new path,
however, I fear that I still haven't figured out how to be part of the
solution.
It's been a while since I shot out an issue of the Harlem Tattletaler. Part
of the delay was that I began the new year with a lot of new ideas and I
wanted to see how they paid off before getting y'all up to speed. I tried
enticing my students with pizza parties. I tried keeping them in for lunch
if they were bad. I tried plying them with candy. I tried playing the good
students (who got early lunch) against the bad students (who had to silently
sit in class with me for an extra 15 minutes). Then I flat out bribed them
with a field trip. Each of these "solutions" yielded minor
victories, but
none completely solved the problem: I spend most of the day talking at
students who aren't listening. Now I am in the waning hours of my mid-winter
vacation and, after reflecting on the last seven weeks, I sadly have few
highlights to share with you.
Just before we went on this break we got the students' latest reading test
scores back. This was a test they took in January to track their progress
since the initial test in September. Of the school's 25 classes, only two
had scores that slipped since September. Mine was the worst, dropping 5
percentage points.
Let me put this in perspective. New York City fifth graders have four
criteria for advancing to the sixth grade: a reading test, a math test, a
math test that is just word problems, and maintaining 90% attendance.
Students must pass three of four to be promoted. The reading test they took
in January is a preview for the promotional reading test in April that is
passed with a score of 65%. As a school, no class scored higher than 56%.
After five months of chaos with me, my class dropped to 37%.
I asked my principal if she thought I could get my class turned around. She
was very supportive and offered to give me an experienced teacher's aide who
(I hope) will be full time. She also said that I could spend an extra day a
week with my mentor, which could be a huge asset, if I can figure out how to
use her. There was one other option my principal mentioned. A teacher who
left the school last year has returned and is slated to be a cluster
teacher, meaning a teacher who goes to several classes a day to teach a
specific subject. It just so happens that this returning teacher taught
fifth grade for several years and already knows many of my students from
fourth grade last year. My principal suggested I think about switching with
her, giving her my class and becoming a cluster teacher. She put the ball
squarely in my court and inadvertently gave me something to mull over for
the last week.
And after a week I have decided that I want to keep trying to make it work
in my class and learn as much as I can from the teacher's aide. I think it
is the right decision for me - I am going to need all the experience I can
get - but I am not sure what the best decision for the students is. We have
about seven weeks to prepare for the two big tests in April and I am not
experienced enough to know what will be better for the students: staying
with me as I struggle to get my bearings or suffering the immediate
disruption of a new teacher to benefit later from her experience. I am not
sure there is an answer, but I am going to make sure my principal feels the
odds are at least even. If she thinks they would be better with an
experienced teacher for the next seven weeks, I will step aside, having
wasted enough of my student's time.
So, how do we turn this around? I am planning on staying at school every day
until 5 p.m. tutoring a core group of kids. I have found that when I am not
in front of the whole class, I can work really effectively with about 15
students at a time. They want to learn and try really hard. During the day,
most students just want attention from their peers, no matter the
consequence. I have ceased to be much of an authority figure, and many
students will just blow off anything I say to them, waving their hand at my
discipline like they are shooing flies. My class has become very angry and
the day is filled with yelling, teasing, pushing, cursing, etc. I recently
realized that what happened is that the class has sunk down to kid level,
what they are the most familiar with, not the high adult level of
expectations and decorum I sought. I am certainly part of the problem and
now have a hard time keeping my temper, making sure I rise above the
childishness that reigns. If the way they behave in class is a reflection of
what their home lives are like, I can better understand the anger and
frustration they drag into class everyday.
It's all about classroom management. I know they can do the work. I know
they can learn everything that I am teaching. What I don't know is how to
motivate them, get them to believe in themselves again, and turn the focus
away from disrupting class and back to learning. There are still some
teachers and staff members who can walk into my class and suddenly I have 28
angels. My students have some combination of respect and fear for them that I can't duplicate. It must be a secret whispered to second year teachers as
they report for their first day of year two. I hope so. Because right now, I
don't have a clue how to rebuild my relationship with them so they see me as
someone who can help them move toward their futures instead of just the
person who kills all the fun in class.
But there have been a few highlights, some which offer insight into how to
turn things around. A couple of weeks ago I had my back to the board while I
worked with a group of students. When I finished, and actually felt good
because they had learned something, I looked up to see that someone had
scrawled, "mr Jones is ugly" on the board. I began to bellow,
"No student
of mine would ever insult me and not use proper capitals and
punctuation!"
Luis grabbed a piece of chalk (I am pretty sure it was his handwriting to
begin with) and put in a period. Someone else capitalized the M and F.
Finally one of my more outstanding students spoke up and got the period
after Mr. It was great: they liked the fact I joked about the insult, I
modeled the proper way to react to an insult, and they may have actually
learned something. It's all about teachable moments.
Another highlight was a month-long unit on the Solar System I put together,
which culminated in a trip to the new Rose Center planetarium. The trip was
a reward for hard work and good behavior in class. Nine students (all boys)
did not come along, because there was no way I was going to take
responsibility for students in public who hadn't demonstrated self-control
in the classroom. My fiancée Betsy and a student's mother chaperoned, and
we had a great time. Observing them in a new environment during a day of
"fun" gave me the opportunity to see them more as kids and individuals, and not
the tangled knot of frustration I spend six hours a day with. They delighted
in showing off what they had learned about the solar system by answering trivia questions during the subway ride down; we spent the first hour and a
half with hands-on activities about how stars and galaxies form; we talked about the size of the solar system under a scale model of the sun and
planets. I got to see that some of the behavior issues I routinely deal with
are just a part of the arc of their daily emotional lives as WW III darn
near broke out over who "drank all the water" out of the water
fountain.
This happened just after lunch, a typically treacherous period of our day.
But they redeemed themselves by near silence during the planetarium star
show at the end of the trip.
And then there is what I am hoping is the highlight to be. A very generous
reader of the Harlem Tattletaler sent a donation to the class. After much
consultation and consideration of how to spend it, I purchased a video
camera. What do you do with a group of kids begging for attention? Make
movie stars out of them. There are tons of classroom possibilities for the
camera that I am just now grasping. I see it as another tool we can use for
self-expression, along with poetry, songs, and artwork. I want to begin a
unit on self-representation where students reflect on how they see
themselves and how they present themselves to others. We are exchanging pen pal letters with a friend's sixth grade class at another school. But I could
see us earning some serious "props" if we sent the sixth graders a
video of
our class. There is also the opportunity to record short informational video
clips about the school, such as demonstrating the proper way to walk in the
halls, what to do during a fire drill, what to do if someone wants to fight,
or how to check a book out of the library. Think of the script writing
possibilities! And then, my dream lesson: do research on the historical
sites around the school and Harlem and narrate walking tours in front of the
camera. On the other hand, I figure I can also use the camera for extortion.
Imagine if, as a parent, the teacher called you in to actually SEE what your
little darling did in class today. The camera made its debut to the 19
students who went on the field trip. The next day, we ALL got to watch how
much fun we had at the planetarium.
Ultimately will gimmickry turn my students into teacher's pets? Probably
not. But I just think that if I can find the right tone to take with them,
if we can identify a common goal and work together on it, we will get
through this year, and who knows? We all might learn something. I know
I am
not alone. I have talked with fellow first year Teach for America teachers
around town and most are struggling with the same issues that I am. A
veteran Teach for America leader told me that about 95% of us first years
are in the same boat right now. The rest of the year is going to be a series
of advances and setbacks until we make it to June (just over 15 weeks from
now). Then it will be time to sit back and ask, as one friend put it,
"What
was that?"
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