Communities Don't Just Happen

The Sapon-Shevin reading was full of wonderful examples of how to successfully build a community.  I particularly appreciated the reminder that the classroom community would not just happen on its own.  It has to be a full team effort.  Everyone in the community must feel like their input is needed and valued.  The teacher must, of course, encourage the students to determine what they will need from one another in order to feel that they are in a safe environment and can contribute freely.  They must somehow eliminate the fear that “someone won’t like my idea” or “they’ll think I’m dumb”.  It won’t happen overnight.  The students will have to build their trust in one another.  I have witnessed that same type of environment that was mentioned in the reading where a student who is struggling with a concept need only announce it and they would immediately receive help from several classmates.  There is a wonderful collaborative atmosphere at each of the table groups during the volunteer rotations that I attend.  I frequently hear the words “turn to your neighbor and explain what you learned/discovered/found”.  The teacher has made the children feel that what they have to say is very important; important enough to share with the other students.  The teacher is also very aware of who has and who has not had a chance to participate.  She makes sure that every child has a chance to contribute, not in every lesson, but enough that no single student seems singled out as “the one with all of the answers”.  She is also very careful with her language when requesting feedback regarding anything a student has shared with the class.  She does not simply ask for comments, but specifically says “we have time for three compliments or questions” and allows the student to choose which students will provide that feedback.  She is very aware of when students talk over someone who is particularly quiet.  She does not raise her voice, she simply says something to the effect “Oh, I’m very interested in what Johnny has to say, I’ll just wait until it is quiet so that I can hear him.”  There are constant subtle reminders that everyone should have a voice and that everyone has an idea worth hearing.

It then made complete sense, in the Greene reading, to tie the teaching of arts in the classroom to the ability to create a community.  If we strip away all of the activities that allow for self-expression, how will the children learn more about themselves.  If we do not allow them to use their imagination, how will they put themselves “in each other’s shoes” and gain deeper understanding of each other.  If a student does not have the experience of visiting other worlds, worlds completely unlike their own, how will they be able to conceive that one of their classmates might have a completely different life outside of school than their own?  Imagine how many more connections the children might be able to make with one another if their classroom library was rich with stories from various cultures.  What a wonderful experience to read a story and then have a student in their very own classroom be able to share a real life experience.  Just like finding out that hippos sweat a pink, oily substance or that the Surinam Toad actually carries her eggs inside the skin of her back until they pop out as froglets; they may find out something about a classmate’s heritage that even their wildest imagination would not have considered. 

Being a Positive Influence

Although I posted this video as a test to see if I could follow the instructions in our Technology class, I chose it because it really spoke to me.  I loved her enthusiasm and her understanding that there are some definite challenges.  I keep repeating to myself "Plus TWO!"  I just love her attitude.  You have to start somewhere with every student.  Why not start by focusing on what they did right and then build.

What do you mean, add?

Really, how hard can it be to teach Kindergarten or First Grade Math?  Everyone can figure out 1 + 1, 2 + 2, 3 + 5, right?  Let’s say that you are going to introduce your first math lesson to a group of bright, shiny children.  You sit them all down on the rug and you write an equation on the board.  Rather than solving the problem for the students, you want to have some interaction, so you say “who knows how to add 2 plus 2” and ask for quiet hands.  It is apparent that several of the children are eager to share their answers with you.  They are waving their hands frantically and moving from a seated position to one where they have one knee on the floor and one foot on the floor.  They are doing their best not to say “I know, I know!” but their audible breathing and squeaks of excitement are good indicators that they are hoping you call on them.  You look around and call on one of the children whose hand is raised but their face seems to indicate that they might have a question instead of an answer.  The student says “What do you mean, add?”  How do you respond to this?  What language do you use? 

Some of your students may have had two years of Montessori or pre-school before coming into your class.  Others may have been fortunate enough to have been at an in-home daycare with someone whose sole mission in life was to keep the children in their charge safe, happy & healthy.  They may or may not have had exposure to early math skills.  You may be guiding them into a whole new world.  Imagine that you are trying to explain this concept to a child who has is not familiar with “plus” or “combine”.  You don’t just stand there writing equations on the board hoping that with enough repetition the concept will sink in.  You are a teacher.  You call on your training and your classroom experience.  You come up with a creative way for the whole class to explore addition through pictures.  You create a stick drawing of a tree with two birds.  You write the number 2.  Then you explain that two more birds come.  You write the “+” sign and another 2.  Now how many birds are there?  You count the birds out loud with the whole class.  You write the number 4 under your equation.  You continue with more drawings or possibly manipulatives and then you guide them into the forming the equations and eventually solving them. 

Simple enough?  There are 28 children in your class.  How do you keep the lesson challenging enough for the children who learned these concepts last year or have been doing math workbooks at home?  How do you reach out to the students who don’t have the language skills to understand what you were saying while you drew your pictures?  How do you make sure that all 28 of them “get it” in the 37 minutes that you have to devote to your math lesson today, because you have other curriculum points that you must cover?  What if one of those children who was anxiously raising their hand simply needed to go potty and was so distracted that they did not even hear your question much less how to come up with the answer?  You are a teacher.  You have been through some rigorous training and you have skills for adapting your lessons for different types of learners.  You pay close attention to each of your students and you know the signs that what you just did/said/drew connected with someone who didn’t “get it” before.  You are undaunted by the fact that next year you might be teaching 2^nd Grade and exploring addition and subtraction of triple digit numbers; identifying different types of quadrilaterals; and discussing the differences between slides, flips, and rotations of geometric shapes.  And that’s just math.  You are also responsible for helping these children learn to read and write, become problem solvers, develop social skills to perform effectively in their school community and beyond, and hopefully create some fabulous art.  It’s never as simple as just knowing how to solve 2 + 2.

Head of the Class - the First Time

While reading about the teaching myths in the Ayers book, I was reminded of my own misconceptions just over 3 ½ years ago.  My youngest daughter was anxious to start Sunday school with her sisters, but did not pass the “wax” test (mid-October birthday).  I asked if there was any way they would consider allowing her to join the class.  The Religious Education Director said that she would be admitted if I would volunteer as an Assistant this year.  That sounded wonderful.  About 10 days before the program started, I received an email stating that “one of the teachers for my daughter’s class had an unavoidable conflict this year, would I consider teaching Sunday school?”  I answered with a very nervous “Yes”.  I was excited but anxious.  I did not want to let these children or their parents down.  I had taught Taekwon Do for over 20 years, but had no experience teaching in a regular classroom.  The Director was completely confident that I could take on the challenge (and likely had no one else they could call on with such short notice).  The first Sunday I helped the children to wash their hands, find a place on the rug, color their activity sheets, and watched as the Team A teacher led prayers, read stories, sang songs, asked engaging questions, and interpreted the three-year-old answers.  I was in awe.  She never raised her voice, she held the children’s attention, and when they began to seem a bit distracted, she silently started a game where the children mimicked her actions.  In mere moments the room was quiet and all of the children were quietly following every move she made.  Where did she learn to do that?  I didn’t have any of those tricks.  I started panicking.  

I decided that my only solution was to be incredibly prepared.  I spent more than 10 hours that week preparing a script with all of the clever stories I would tell and the questions I would ask.  I laid out a specific time-frame for each activity.  I made sure that there were 10 different things to do as I had read somewhere that 5 minutes was the most I could expect for attention span at this age.  I had a three page typewritten plan when I got to class the next Sunday.  I had a pile of books with several stories marked, two coloring pages, a singing/marching activity, a craft, and a whole lot of determination.  About 65 minutes later, one crying child (who I held for the entire class) and 13 smiling students were dismissed to their parents.  I had not had time to look at my well-planned script a single time.  The craft projects were now sticking to the inside of each of the students’ take-home bags as I had not accounted for glue-drying time.  I was exhausted but felt that I had accomplished something very important.  I had not lost a single child.  Every parent went home with the same child they had left in my care just over an hour earlier.  

I learned a valuable lesson.  Although preparation and experience are incredibly important, the best thing I did was listen and pay attention to the children.  I still spent 5-6 hours preparing for every lesson for the rest of that school year, but I no longer wrote scripts.  Now I had bullet points and the font that I chose was much larger.  I still had 10 activities planned for each day, but was not heartbroken if we missed one.  I learned that the most fun time for the students (and me) was when we sat in a circle on the rug and talked about connections we had with the lesson.  I love the honesty, the emotion, and excitement that flows out of three-year-old children.  They have no filters and it is wonderful.  I have so much more to learn from them.