“When I ask a question, the teacher tells me I should ‘already know that.'”

Hmmm. So she asked a question because she wanted to know. And, instead of taking the opportunity to validate her as a learner, the teacher lays guilt at her feet, pointing a finger, instead of lending a hand.

Sadly, this plays out far too often in the classroom. And even if there is “some truth” to the “already-know-it-response,” it relies more on what was taught rather than what was learned. Just because it was in the curriculum last year, and just because it was taught and maybe even tested, it does not mean it was learned. And so, when a kid asks a sincere question, we should set aside our assumptions about last year and be responsive to our kids this year. Kids come as they are. Ready or not. And ready or not, it is what it is at that point, the point where they are “our kids,” not somebody else’s kids. And in the many moments that we find ourselves with our kids, there is much to learn from each other. Yes, of course, we have a lot to teach, but we can’t really teach if we don’t know what our kids need, and there is no better way to learn what they need than from the questions they ask. 

But what if they don’t ask questions? Then can we really meet them where they are? Learners have to ask questions. It’s where learning begins. So, then, why don’t kids ask questions? Well, for reasons like the example above and myriad other reasons as well.

Recently, I had a chance to hear and think about the reasons. In cooperation with Elise Foster, an author and executive coach from Ohio with whom I have become connected through Twitter, I had a chance to think through student questions via an email interview. Further, my kids also completed a survey for her, answering “I’d ask more questions in class if…” The above response that started my post is from a young lady in my 5th period class, a young lady who is one of the most genuine, sincere young people I have ever known, and if she asks a question, she really needs to know. She doesn’t need to be invalidated. Ever.

We wield a power, we teachers. We have the power to build up or break down. And as I have thought about that power recently (thank you, Elise), I made a pledge to my kids.

Can I meet all their needs all the time. Sadly, no. But I at least will know what they need so I can try. And maybe that’s what teaching is in the end: The Big Try.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…reconnecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…the joy of personal reading.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.