I had a conversation with a friend this weekend about winning and losing. He commented to me that he had spent most of his life trying not to lose rather than trying to win. There is, obviously, a fundamental difference between these two. So I started thinking about the various games that we play each day--the game of work, the game of school, the game of life.
These days, we all spend time trying not to lose. This seems to show one of two sides of people. It can breed in some a competitive side that people often call "playing to win," but it isn't. It's trying to screw others over so that YOU don't lose. The other side of trying not to lose is giving up so much, because "you're going to lose anyway."
Trying to win is an interesting concept. People define it in many ways. Many think that eliminating all competition is winning. They will do it by whatever means necessary! If it means tattling, they will tattle. If it means screwing others over, they will. If it means putting on a nice face and feigning politeness, they'll do that too. Anything. Literally.
But the way I look at it, winning may mean eliminating the competition. But I see it as eliminating the competition by altruism and collaboration rather than by screwing others over, or just trying to be "the best." See, true winning is done by honest means, not by witholding the notes your classmate asked for, because they were sick that day, just so that you can score higher on the upcoming test. True winning is done by learning from your mistakes, so that you don't make the same mistake twice. True winning is collaborating with your competitors, so that together, you all bring a piece to the puzzle and build the best thing possible.
Schools these days don't breed that. SURE, we talk about collaboration, but do we do it? No. Teachers don't collaborate (Latin and History could do something together...Latin and Science....etc...), and we don't encourage it among our students either. As long as they are getting The Grades, we don't care.
The paradigm IS shifting though, especially among newer teachers. We are beginning to encourage true winning now--building community and sharing and collaboration. What have you done to encourage this? What steps can we take to keep encouraging true winning, rather than fear of losing? How can we shift the paradigm to playing to win rather than trying not to lose?
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Monday, June 10, 2013
To Be Rather Than To Seem
On Thursday Morning, I was chatting with C, my assistant principal. She mentioned that she had to go do some walkthrough observations. I nodded knowingly. "Don't worry," she said. "I won't bother you. Your students are always on task, even when they aren't."
I found that statement interesting. "How so?" I asked. C didn't hesitate. "They are always having discussions related to what they are doing, and they are always listening to each other and learning from each other. They help each other, they talk each other through issues, and they make sure that their groups understand. In another class, that might be shut down as 'needless chatter' but, as I said in your evaluation, you encourage related conversations."
This, to me, was interesting, but not surprising. Too many of my students come to me from classes where they are chastised for asking a question, for helping a friend, for turning a lecture into a discussion. Let's be fair here, even I would put an end to my students chatting, say, about their weekend plans, and sometimes they do need that direction. But that is why listening to the conversations happening in your classroom is so important--so that you know when to let the conversations continue and when to end them.
But so many teachers have not learned to listen. Their job is to dispense knowledge and the students' job is to passively absorb their words of wisdom. The students can "look" On Task, with their noses stuck in packets and reading textbooks, but are they really? What are they actually learning--not memorizing so that they can regurgitate it on a test--but learning so that they can use it in the real world?
The great Roman statesman Cicero famously wrote about Cato the Younger the words "esse quam videri," commenting that Cato preferred "to be, rather than to seem." How can we make sure that On Task means that the students are actually working with the material? What can we do to facilitate that transition from looking On Task to being On Task?
I found that statement interesting. "How so?" I asked. C didn't hesitate. "They are always having discussions related to what they are doing, and they are always listening to each other and learning from each other. They help each other, they talk each other through issues, and they make sure that their groups understand. In another class, that might be shut down as 'needless chatter' but, as I said in your evaluation, you encourage related conversations."
This, to me, was interesting, but not surprising. Too many of my students come to me from classes where they are chastised for asking a question, for helping a friend, for turning a lecture into a discussion. Let's be fair here, even I would put an end to my students chatting, say, about their weekend plans, and sometimes they do need that direction. But that is why listening to the conversations happening in your classroom is so important--so that you know when to let the conversations continue and when to end them.
But so many teachers have not learned to listen. Their job is to dispense knowledge and the students' job is to passively absorb their words of wisdom. The students can "look" On Task, with their noses stuck in packets and reading textbooks, but are they really? What are they actually learning--not memorizing so that they can regurgitate it on a test--but learning so that they can use it in the real world?
The great Roman statesman Cicero famously wrote about Cato the Younger the words "esse quam videri," commenting that Cato preferred "to be, rather than to seem." How can we make sure that On Task means that the students are actually working with the material? What can we do to facilitate that transition from looking On Task to being On Task?
Friday, June 7, 2013
One Mistake is OK
Before one of my classes yesterday, I was sitting in on the Mandarin class at my school. "Ms. Y," one of the students asked, "Can I pleeeeease retake the test now?"
Ms. Y looked confused. "K," she replied, "You only made one mistake on the test. You don't need to retake it! One mistake is OK!"
"No it's not," M protested. "I can't believe I messed that up!" He continued to beat himself up for the one tiny mistake he made, resulting in him getting a 98 rather than a 100. Ms. Y refused to argue with him. One mistake was OK, and she was sticking to that. She told me later that she has been working with this student all year on being able to make mistakes.
And this brought me back to Perfection. I have spent a great deal of the year teaching my students that I am not looking for *perfection.* Instead, I am looking for proficiency, and a willingness to learn from their mistakes. I am not looking for the student who can memorize everything and spit it back at me, but the student who knows what questions to ask. That's what I care about.
I want to see their BEST work. Their best work is not Perfect work. Your best can always be better--otherwise 'improvement' would not exist as a word. If you don't get a perfect score, read the comments, ask me the right questions, and learn why. Maybe you'll do better next time. Don't ask me the "Why didn't you give me a 100?" question. Ask me "Why is this incorrect? Did I need to use the subjunctive here?" I'll happily walk you through it!
The advice I gave to my Seniors as they prepared to head to college, was the following: "Take risks. Don't be afraid to make mistakes. When you do make mistakes, learn from them. I know everyone tells you this, but I think, and I hope you do too, that we lived it in this class, and I hope you all can apply it to the college world." My students agreed.
How do we learn that mistakes are OK? What can we do to encourage risk-taking and learning from our mistakes?
Ms. Y looked confused. "K," she replied, "You only made one mistake on the test. You don't need to retake it! One mistake is OK!"
"No it's not," M protested. "I can't believe I messed that up!" He continued to beat himself up for the one tiny mistake he made, resulting in him getting a 98 rather than a 100. Ms. Y refused to argue with him. One mistake was OK, and she was sticking to that. She told me later that she has been working with this student all year on being able to make mistakes.
And this brought me back to Perfection. I have spent a great deal of the year teaching my students that I am not looking for *perfection.* Instead, I am looking for proficiency, and a willingness to learn from their mistakes. I am not looking for the student who can memorize everything and spit it back at me, but the student who knows what questions to ask. That's what I care about.
I want to see their BEST work. Their best work is not Perfect work. Your best can always be better--otherwise 'improvement' would not exist as a word. If you don't get a perfect score, read the comments, ask me the right questions, and learn why. Maybe you'll do better next time. Don't ask me the "Why didn't you give me a 100?" question. Ask me "Why is this incorrect? Did I need to use the subjunctive here?" I'll happily walk you through it!
The advice I gave to my Seniors as they prepared to head to college, was the following: "Take risks. Don't be afraid to make mistakes. When you do make mistakes, learn from them. I know everyone tells you this, but I think, and I hope you do too, that we lived it in this class, and I hope you all can apply it to the college world." My students agreed.
How do we learn that mistakes are OK? What can we do to encourage risk-taking and learning from our mistakes?
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Giving a Damn
Yesterday, I had my "End of year performance evaluation" with my assistant principal. As part of my evaluation, she had read the student evaluations I had had my students complete, both about my class and also about themselves and their participation in my class. She got first crack at them--I hadn't seen them yet. These were evaluations that I had written for them--there are not school wide evaluations.
Anyway, she looked at me with a smile and said, "I am SO glad to know that you give a fuck about your students." Surprised, as anyone would, I think, be at that statement, I simply blinked at her. With a laugh, she produced an evaluation from the top of the pile. Written in the space under the question 'What could Ms. L do to help you out more?' was the following answer: "Nothing. Ms. L is an incredible teacher. She is strict, but she is strict because she gives a fuck about us. Like, she actually cares--none of this "yeah I really care about you all" crap."
In case you are curious, the evaluation was great! I was pretty excited about that.
But that's not the point of this post. I couldn't get the words written by my student out of my head. My assistant principal and I talked a lot about forming bonds with students. But I guess what really got me on this is that this was not the only student who realized that my strict boundaries and rules applied to ALL of us in the class, me included, and it was me showing that I cared about them and wanted them to take safe risks and make good choices. Not only that, but it was not lost on the students how much some other teachers' lying words of caring were untrue. NEVER would I say that I am the only teacher who cares for her students at this school. NEVER. Don't read it that way.
What I am saying is that the way to show students we "give a fuck" about them is to set rules and boundaries and to make sure that they apply to YOU as well as to them. Don't set up the oft-seen "us vs. them" mentality. If you listen to the students, they are more likely to listen to you in return.
How do you show students you care? Did you have a teacher who was really good at showing they cared? How did they show it?
Anyway, she looked at me with a smile and said, "I am SO glad to know that you give a fuck about your students." Surprised, as anyone would, I think, be at that statement, I simply blinked at her. With a laugh, she produced an evaluation from the top of the pile. Written in the space under the question 'What could Ms. L do to help you out more?' was the following answer: "Nothing. Ms. L is an incredible teacher. She is strict, but she is strict because she gives a fuck about us. Like, she actually cares--none of this "yeah I really care about you all" crap."
In case you are curious, the evaluation was great! I was pretty excited about that.
But that's not the point of this post. I couldn't get the words written by my student out of my head. My assistant principal and I talked a lot about forming bonds with students. But I guess what really got me on this is that this was not the only student who realized that my strict boundaries and rules applied to ALL of us in the class, me included, and it was me showing that I cared about them and wanted them to take safe risks and make good choices. Not only that, but it was not lost on the students how much some other teachers' lying words of caring were untrue. NEVER would I say that I am the only teacher who cares for her students at this school. NEVER. Don't read it that way.
What I am saying is that the way to show students we "give a fuck" about them is to set rules and boundaries and to make sure that they apply to YOU as well as to them. Don't set up the oft-seen "us vs. them" mentality. If you listen to the students, they are more likely to listen to you in return.
How do you show students you care? Did you have a teacher who was really good at showing they cared? How did they show it?
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Conversations
Yesterday morning, my students and I had a conversation about gaming. Yes, that really happened. We talked about game design, rules of games, games we played, how we liked them, and why. In case you haven't guessed, I LOVE game design and gaming. But the cool part for me is that I didn't even initiate the discussion. M was just wondering about how to get past something in Bioshock....and she asked J...and off went the conversation.
The students needed to get work done on a project, but they were able to get done what they needed to get done and have an interesting and much needed conversation. They were tired--it is, after all, the end of the year--but somehow, we still managed to both get our work done and have some fun.
Making connections with students is important. Through those "random, disruptive conversations," you learn, if you listen to them and take time to think about them, what makes students tick. Especially now, at a time when EVERYTHING is either a "review packet" or "just one more thing before the final," these conversations are SO important. For one thing, they relieve some tension. For another, they show that I the teacher respect them the students. For another, they show that they the students respect me the teacher enough to HAVE that conversation, while getting their work done at the same time. And they even asked my opinion. For the first few minutes, I had just been listening.
So, I take these conversations and listen to them. I mull them around in my head and get ideas from them--ideas for games for use both in and out of class, for class activities, for ways to engage those students who need it, and even get the whole class engaged in an activity. So, why is it that we squash them?
Because we have "so much to cover," or "if The Powers That Be walk in and we aren't 'learning'." But I find that we all learn more from the conversations.
How do we demonstrate to both the Powers That Be and to our fellow teachers that these conversations are both useful and necessary for real learning?
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Dropping the Ball
This week is a screwy schedule at school. No day is a "normal" whatever-number-day-it-is schedule. We're doing the last round of MCAS testing, and there there are a bunch of assemblies. So times are changing, periods moving, and classes being relocated.
On Monday, P, one of my students who is partially home-schooled and only comes in for two periods of the day, came running in to class 20 minutes late. "I'm so sorry, Magistra," she panted, "They neglected to tell me about the schedule change!"
She was, understandably, peeved. As a new teacher at this school, I understand her frustration. Too often, changes are not communicated well, because "everyone just knows" what they are and will be. So, I find myself having to ask about them. All the time. But I can figure these things out because I have a vague idea of when testing sessions, etc... are. A partially home-schooled student has no idea.
As it turned out, NONE of the students knew of the schedule change. No one had bothered to tell them. Only the teachers knew. And of course, they didn't tell the students. They didn't even bother to POST IT in the hallways!! So, my period 4 students showed up to my class, when they were supposed to be at period 6. And I was left being the person to tell them all of this.
In the case of "serving all students" or "making sure all faculty have the correct information," the School has dropped the ball. Both of these quotes are taken directly out of the information that the school distributes. This is not the first time this has happened. In fact, it has been happening all year to poor P and to me and to other new teachers.
What is the message that we, the new teachers, and students like P have been receiving? This might be a self-evident answer, but as P put it, "Yeah, they don't really care about me. They don't communicate with me or my family at all."
My full-time students were frustrated. "No one tells us anything!" complained M. "Well," J said, "This might be the first time the teachers have known something about actual school operations that we did not know!" (Usually, we teachers don't know about schedule stuff, but if you ask the students, they do!)
So, today, I think about messages once more, specifically in connection with administration and "the powers that be" Dropping the Ball.
How can we create clear communication channels? Who has had an experience similar to this? How did you handle it?
On Monday, P, one of my students who is partially home-schooled and only comes in for two periods of the day, came running in to class 20 minutes late. "I'm so sorry, Magistra," she panted, "They neglected to tell me about the schedule change!"
She was, understandably, peeved. As a new teacher at this school, I understand her frustration. Too often, changes are not communicated well, because "everyone just knows" what they are and will be. So, I find myself having to ask about them. All the time. But I can figure these things out because I have a vague idea of when testing sessions, etc... are. A partially home-schooled student has no idea.
As it turned out, NONE of the students knew of the schedule change. No one had bothered to tell them. Only the teachers knew. And of course, they didn't tell the students. They didn't even bother to POST IT in the hallways!! So, my period 4 students showed up to my class, when they were supposed to be at period 6. And I was left being the person to tell them all of this.
In the case of "serving all students" or "making sure all faculty have the correct information," the School has dropped the ball. Both of these quotes are taken directly out of the information that the school distributes. This is not the first time this has happened. In fact, it has been happening all year to poor P and to me and to other new teachers.
What is the message that we, the new teachers, and students like P have been receiving? This might be a self-evident answer, but as P put it, "Yeah, they don't really care about me. They don't communicate with me or my family at all."
My full-time students were frustrated. "No one tells us anything!" complained M. "Well," J said, "This might be the first time the teachers have known something about actual school operations that we did not know!" (Usually, we teachers don't know about schedule stuff, but if you ask the students, they do!)
So, today, I think about messages once more, specifically in connection with administration and "the powers that be" Dropping the Ball.
How can we create clear communication channels? Who has had an experience similar to this? How did you handle it?
Monday, June 3, 2013
Feeling OLD
On Thursday, I got together for lunch with some former students of mine, now in college. All three of them will be Juniors next year and are Classics majors at three different colleges.
All three of them had the same thing to say: "I didn't learn to think like I needed to for college in High School."
We talked about working with students and learning to think like one would need to for college, for the real world. Two of them are thinking about teaching as a career and the other one is probably headed to Law School. K complained bitterly about how no matter WHERE they went or WHAT they did, they would need to know how to think. They were just expected to know how to think in College, but it was a skill they had never learned.
"Where would we have learned it?" asked G, the only guy in the Lunch Bunch.
L shook her head. "Certainly not at our high school. No one knew how to think there. Be glad you got the hell out of there, Ms. L!"
I took the opportunity to direct the conversation. "What would have helped?" I asked them. "How would you help your students learn to think?"
"Having real discussions," G offered. "Like we're expected to do in college. Not being TOLD what the book means, but actually talking about it."
"Not doing 4 bazillion packets," said L. "Those are the most useless things ever."
"Teachers and Admin being Honest with students. Admin being honest with teachers. Well, Honesty in general," K shared. "Honesty is what puts the trust to share, to think in the right place. I'm always honest with my study group students."
I put this to you, loyal readers, because this makes me feel so old! These are my own former students talking about helping future students and learning from what happened to them as students.
What would you add to their list? How can we teach up and coming generations of students to think?
All three of them had the same thing to say: "I didn't learn to think like I needed to for college in High School."
We talked about working with students and learning to think like one would need to for college, for the real world. Two of them are thinking about teaching as a career and the other one is probably headed to Law School. K complained bitterly about how no matter WHERE they went or WHAT they did, they would need to know how to think. They were just expected to know how to think in College, but it was a skill they had never learned.
"Where would we have learned it?" asked G, the only guy in the Lunch Bunch.
L shook her head. "Certainly not at our high school. No one knew how to think there. Be glad you got the hell out of there, Ms. L!"
I took the opportunity to direct the conversation. "What would have helped?" I asked them. "How would you help your students learn to think?"
"Having real discussions," G offered. "Like we're expected to do in college. Not being TOLD what the book means, but actually talking about it."
"Not doing 4 bazillion packets," said L. "Those are the most useless things ever."
"Teachers and Admin being Honest with students. Admin being honest with teachers. Well, Honesty in general," K shared. "Honesty is what puts the trust to share, to think in the right place. I'm always honest with my study group students."
I put this to you, loyal readers, because this makes me feel so old! These are my own former students talking about helping future students and learning from what happened to them as students.
What would you add to their list? How can we teach up and coming generations of students to think?
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