Seems a word that says everything and nothing all at once. From generalized assumptions to specific expectations, we toss this word around in our circles, using it as we will, fitting it to whatever context we create. And we do create context to a degree, don’t we? Yes, there are some things from the outside that contextualize our rooms, that denote and connote the word “student.” But there are many things inside that bring to bear what the word “student” ultimately means for our students.
For me, in my room, I find the term inadequate: sterile, clinical, impersonal, creating a distance that neither fits me nor the experience I try to create for my kids over the course of the year. So, as I work to create context, to create culture I provide “roles” for my kids to play during our journey. Here is a list of those roles that I will share with my kids from the 4 R’s (Roles, Routines, Rights, and Responsibilities), which I present to them early on. Usually I will do one “R” per day during the first week. We start with Roles.
This is the stage I set. I want my kids to understand that they are here to experience learning in its many faceted ways, that they are not here to be a student in a desk with a teacher in his room. I want more for all of us.
My roles? Many--for which “teacher” seems inadequate, too, but if I were to offer what I believe my two primary roles are, I would suggest provider of opportunity and supporter.
And with this, we set out as the play unfolds with a cast of many.
I have six self-standards for the year, centering on that over which I believe I have power: how kids feel in my room. Everything I do begins, circles back, hovers around, and ends with these.
In my room, I want you to feel connected, empowered, valued, respected, challenged, and supported. I wrote about this approach at length in one of my contribution posts to TG2 (Teachers Going Gradeless), “My Room: Accepting the Mantle of Classroom Culture” (https://www.teachersgoinggradeless.com/blog/2018/09/22/syrie-my-room). For today’s post, I am going to focus on “connected.”
First impressions matter, and when my kids walk in the room on that first day, I want to make an impression. Of course, I want to do this in various ways, but immediately, visually I want the arrangement of the desks to make an impact.
We don’t become connected staring at the back of others’ heads. We become connected when we look into each other’s faces, which I believe is critical for developing understanding and building empathy. And when my kids walk into room 206 on September 4th, I want them to take note that they will see and be seen. Yes, as an introvert myself, I realize the discomfort this may bring to some of my more-introverted students, and I say as much as I try to ease them into their new environment, assuring them that we will all get more comfortable…, well at least less uncomfortable as time goes on. And once we start our daily Smiles and Frowns and monthly Community Circles, we become more comfortable and more connected each day.
It’s a small thing, I suppose. But I have found that this arrangement is a simple but powerful means to connecting people and building community, particularly if it’s a regular part of the room. In 206, it’s our “normal.”
Meet Me
Of course, there’s more to it than seeing and being seen. Kids will also hear and be heard. We talk. A lot. We listen. A lot. And not just during Smiles and Frowns and Community Circle, but in most that we do. Hard to talk to people when you can’t see people. Hard to listen to people when you can’t see people. Well, I guess “sound” actually happens, but it’s more genuine when we can make eye contact, see gestures, and read expressions. So we start talking and listening on day one.
I ask my kids to complete the “Meet Me” sheet below. And then I ask them to share with the class. This, of course, is scary for some kids. Last year, I had a young lady who came to tears just thinking about having to talk. Here’s a part of a reflection from that experience on day 2, “The Lines We Draw” (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/the-lines-we-draw-project-180-day-2/).
But of all the things I learned yesterday, maybe the most important thing I learned was where the lines exist. In particular, where the line for each exists when it comes to sharing, speaking publicly. Of course, and not unexpectedly, most don’t want to share/speak, especially in a new environment, but they get over it and share anyway. A few relish it. I can see the sparkle in their eyes as they volunteer to go first. And another few, shut down. And it is from here where I am first put to the test. Will I budge? Will I see and hear their anxiety? Will I show empathy to the young lady with shaky tears sitting directly to my right, telling me she can’t do this? Of course. Of course, I will. The last thing I am going to do on day one is hold the line on something as scary as public speaking. Such lines are simply scribbles in the sand. They are not hard boundaries that won’t budge. I saw. I heard. I reassured with a pat on the shoulder and a promise that I would never make her do something that she doesn’t want to do.
We start with each other. I begin by connecting the people in the room, and then importantly, I continue connecting the people in the room, all year long.
On the last day of school this past year, Jason shared during Smiles and Frowns that he had scoffed at the day-one notion of connecting with people and building community, that he had “heard it all before,” that “it never happened.” This was his smile.
Smile: I was wrong about this class. We are a community.
It’s still my smile.
Hope this helps. More on “connections” to come. One thing I feel compelled to mention, since I have picked up a few more readers this summer, (and something I hope my faithful readers would attest to) when I share my stuff, it is never my hope to present it as the way. It’s just a way. My current way. Until I find my next. We all have to find our way. Always chasing better.
Good morning, all. It’s August and my teacher brain is in full gear. For me, though days remain, August generally marks the end as I start dreamin’ and schemin’ for a new year. And so, here I am ramping up for the next.
Yesterday, one of my very favorite tweeps, Abby French (follow her on Twitter @awfrench1) asked me to share some of the things I do to begin the year. Too much to share on Twitter, so I told her I would write a post and share it. My initial thinking was a long post (and it would have been long), but this morning upon reflection, I think I am just going to do a daily post now in August, a short post with a singular focus. In truth, it will help me get my own thoughts in order, and so I am eager to think and share as I prepare for year four of Project 180.
Dear Learners
This morning I thought I would begin with sharing the letter I will distribute and read to my kiddos in the first few steps of our year’s journey. I really want my kids to feel as if my room is more than a class. I want them to feel like it’s a journey, an experience, so I try to set the stage from the early moments. Here is the letter.
First Five
Thought about calling it “high five,” but most of you know that I am an alliteration addict, so “First Five” it is.
Prior to my reading the letter, I will distribute note cards. After I am done, I will ask the kids to write me a note, highlighting the first five things I should know about them as people, as students. My hope is that my letter has gotten them to thinking about the context of their new experience, bringing to light things that might be pertinent for me to understand about them as we begin our year. Haven’t done this particular activity before, so we’ll see how it goes. I will place their note cards in their portfolios, and I will later engage each in our first round of learning conferences (likely week 3).
That’s today’s post. Back here tomorrow. Thank you for the nudge, Abby.
