Category Archives: Blog

School – A Compact of Good Faith

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Watching your child leave the security of your vehicle, walk under the hump of her backpack to the schoolhouse doors, and disappear inside is a leap of faith.  I sat watching her form disappear behind the darkened glass of the closed door as antsy drop-off parents along the curb behind me impatiently inched forward.  Every morning without exception, I silently wished my child a good and safe day of learning and mouthed “See you after school.”

Inside the doors, my daughter walks to her locker and along the way meets up with her friends, the girls who find each other every morning before their first class to talk about what they have done since last seeing each other the day before.  In her first class, she is surrounded at her desk by classmates she has known since starting school in Kindergarten and friends she just met this year.  Smiles and “Hi’s” are exchanged per usual, last minute gossip is passed, and schooling for my daughter begins again.

School is a good and safe place for my daughter.  I know it.  She will be instructed today by capable teachers and she will advance her learning.  I know it.  She is among friends who care about her and who she cares about.  I know it.  Yet, watching her leave my care every morning and enter into the maw of school gives me pause.  Then I make the leap, resolving that the adults in her school will take care of my little girl today.

There are more than 800 children in my daughter’s school.  I make the assumption that other parents share my morning feelings and that they, like me, accept in good faith the compact parents make with their school.  I enroll my child in your school and in the aggregate of all enrollments, the school is funded and salaries and benefits are paid to all school staff.  In exchange for your livelihood, you will educate and safeguard my child.  Perhaps, the concept of safeguard is a more recent addition to this compact given events of violence in disparate locales across our nation.  Some years ago, the compact was livelihood in exchange for education.  Today, safeguarding is added without a second thought.

Even with my trepidations, I am not a lawnmower parent who wants every bump my daughter may experience in her childhood at school to be eased, if not eliminated.  Life in school will reflect much of life out of school.  She will scrape her knees on the playground at recess.  She will spill her lunch into her lap in the cafeteria.  She will receive less than an “A+” on some assignments.  She will be emotionally wracked by unkind words and her words will wound others, unintentionally I hope.  She will enjoy the quality work of most teachers and fret through a school year with a “Captain Homework” or a “shrew who must hate all children.”  Life presents these and my little girl will make the most of her school life.

And, so the years of school go until the day of her high school graduation and she and I acknowledge that never again will my daughter enter a K-12 schoolhouse door.  She will go to college in some distant state and all my worrying will be conducted from afar.  The leap of faith underlying the compact between parent and educators extends even through post-secondary education.

Years, no decades, have passed since I last watched my daughter enter her school as a student.  Today, it is my granddaughter I watch.  She seems younger than my daughter could have been at the same grade level.  And, I worry more than I used to worry.   It is not my compact with the school, but my daughter who is the parent in this arrangement.  A grandfather is just a sometimes driver delivering his granddaughter to the schoolhouse door.  Yet, I still wait unmoving in my car as my daughter’s daughter walks under an even larger backpack and disappears behind the closing glass door.  I wait even after I no longer can see her knowing that younger parents inching along the curb behind me urge the “geezer” to get moving.  And, I silently wish my granddaughter a good and safe day of learning and mouth “See you after school.”

Good “Yeah, Buts” Belong In School

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It may depend upon who says “Yeah, but…”  At the end of the day the consideration of a good “Yeah, but…” often causes us to find and select better options.  Other times, what seems like a good “yeah, but” causes grief.  I am not certain that people are innately wired to easily and often accept a “Yeah, but”.  Most of my friends tend to like their own thinking first.  “Yeah, but” clanks against their predilections.  Yet, these friends do value that someone has the temerity to interject himself into what would otherwise would be a “think of it and do it my way”.  With courtesy, they listen to another idea before providing their own “Yeah, but.”  And, so the reasoning through a course of action goes toward a better than what could have been the outcome with a good “yeah, but,” “yeah, but,” and “yeah but.”  Some time.

My father worked in “Systems and Procedures” for an international avionics communications corporation.  With responsibilities for developing and institutionalizing interactive processes within the business, he clearly knew the value of discussion, consensus, and compliance.  In the workplace, there was a time and opportunity for divergent points of view on the path to agreements.  Home, however, was a different environment.  Father understood the time and trials that possibility thinking with five children could involve.  He wanted little of that.  Often in speaking to his sons, he would lead or close his words with “There will be no buts about it.”  As a son, I understood that my penchant for “buts” would not be abided.  Interestingly, when my mother slipped a “yeah, but” into their conversation, father was amenable to the probability that the  outcome would be bent in her direction if not hers.  The time, place and speaker of “yeah, but” matters.

School offers these same values of and tolerations of divergent thinking that a good “yeah, but” can lead.  Somethings in school are non-negotiable.  Some “Yeah, buts” get heard only – heard with no anticipated action.  “Yeah, but I don’t like milk.  Can I have a beer with my lunch?”  “Yeah, but he was making fun of me, so I hit him.”  “Yeah, but I don’t think learning about fractions is important.  I want to work with whole numbers only.”  There is a hum of “yeah, buts” in most institutions that are just the routines of talking.  Children come to understand that some “yeah, buts” go nowhere.

Other “Yeah buts” cause us to stop and think about the issue being raised.  A good “yeah, but” makes us question assumptions that create routines.

“Yeah, but this takes too long.”  Children frequently create a single file line to move from one place in school to another.  Single files can be orderly.  Only seeing the child in front, most children walk or stand in single file without distracting each other.  Very orderly.  On the other hand, a single file of 25 children takes time walking to the next class or to the cafeteria or to recess.  A double-file line takes less time and triple-file even less.  “Yeah, but can we trust children to walk side-by-side?”  Probably.

“Yeah.  I know I should show all the steps I used to resolve this math problem.  But, sometimes my mind doesn’t need to list these two steps because step 4 always leads to step 5 and then to step 6, so I just list step 3 with an arrow to 6.” Most math teachers insist in all steps being shown in a student’s solution of an assigned problem.  Yet, it is reasonable for a student to demonstrate recognition of the step without displaying the step.  A teacher can understand the displayed abbreviation and agree to a “yeah, but.”  With reason.

“Yeah, but there is no reason everyone who sits in front of me should see my score on this quiz.”  A usual classroom routine is to instruct children to pass their papers forward in the rows of their desks or around their tables so that we can pick up small stack of papers from several places rather walking to pick up each student’s paper individually.  When this routine follows a self-checking of quiz or the collection of test papers after a teacher-led discussion of the test items, is a child’s concern for the privacy of their score valid?  Sure, it is.  A work around could be to have papers passed forward upside down.  Or, in a class transition to have each child walk their paper to your collection basket.  Or, in a transition for the teacher to collect each student’s paper.  “Good suggestion, kiddo!”

“Yeah, buts” are valued in academic discussion.  “Yeah, but” is the same as saying “however” or “although” or “have you considered” or “here is another equally good idea.”

They abound in any discussion that opens with “what if” propositions.  One hypothesis easily leads to a good “yeah, but” when another child offers oppositional evidence or a different hypothesis.  When asked “Just what does the First Amendment tell us about free speech?” causes hands to fly with “yeah, but” examples of what the Amendment does and does not mean or imply.  “Is it right for a man to break an oath of confidentiality in order to expose a truth that would be hidden by confidentiality?” opens a discussion of the Pentagon Papers and the Viet Nam War.  “Yeah, but” is a phrase designed for a discussion and understanding of controversial issues.  Some time we want and work hard to get good “yeah, buts” into the classroom.

Lest we go too far with good “yeah, buts”, some statements should be made and accepted without discussion and “yeah, buts.”  No discussion is necessary when the fire alarm gong sounds.  Discussion of what “hide, flee, fight” means must resolve all “yeah, buts” so that all children know what to do in the advent of serious school danger.

And, how we respond to “yeah, buts” is important.  A reasonable “yeah, but” needs to be heard and responded to reasonably.  A child who offers a new idea or asks a valid question, should be treated respectfully and given a considered response.  How we respond to a reasonable “yeah, but” will determine if that child asks questions or offers suggestions in the future.  Other “yeah, buts” can be answered with a look.  “Yeah, but I’m hot and want to take off my shirt” only requires a look.

Good “yeah, buts” belong in school.

Plan For Listening If You Want To Be Heard

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Descartes opined that when no one is in the woods to hear a tree fall there is no proof that the tree actually fell.  Applied to causing learning, if a teacher is talking/teaching in a classroom and no students are listening, is teaching actually occurring?

Let’s add another question to this point.  A teacher gives oral direction to a class of twenty children.  To what extent does each child hear the same direction?

These two questions are real.  Talking and the expectation of being listened to is an assumption.  Directing and the expectation that others will understand the direction is a second assumption.  These two assumptions are made every day in classrooms and they lead us to the Cartesian conclusion:  if children are not listening and paying attention to what is being said, there is no proof that teaching and direction actually occurred.

The remedy is that we must shelve our assumptions and gather evidence.  To follow Madeline Hunter, we must teach the critical attributes of listening and we must check for understanding of what has been heard.  And, we must practice these critical attributes and checking for understanding until they are fully embedded in our teaching/learning routines.  Then, we must check them intermittently to assure that we do not fall victim to our assumptions once again.

Critical attributes of effective listening begin with the teacher.  Is the teaching and direction constructed in ways that promote attentive listening?  Are they personalized so that children can relate to the words spoken?  If a child does not know that she is expected to listen and that her success as a student is within the teaching/direction, she will not commit her attention.  Is the teaching/directing concise and without the distraction of “bird walks” of irrelevant information?  We all listen in “snippets”.  Effective teaching in five- to ten-minute bursts are consumable for attentive listening.  Directions that include three or four “to do” points are understandable for attentive listening.  Story telling and rambling and anecdotal directing cause a student to tune out and long lists of things to do are confusing.  Teachers who plan to be listened to will be heard.

Checking for understanding is child accountability.  Why would a person take their car in for a repair and not road test the car afterward to assure the repair was actually made?  We need to road test children for what they hear and understand.  Checking is requiring a child or children to demonstrate – to give evidence of what they heard and understood.  Asking a child to paraphrase an instructional snippet verbally or in writing, to connect the instructional snippet to a previous snippet, or to provide the conclusions she has reached after considering the snippet are good checking strategies.  When children know that they will be required to demonstrate their listening and understanding, they become more attentive listeners and learners.  Over time, they become more effective and interactive in their self-accountability for learning and listening.

There are many more techniques and strategies for assuring that teaching/learning and directing/listening occur in classrooms.  To prevent a Cartesian problem, it is essential that a teacher purposefully practices any of these techniques to create the evidence that children are listening and learning.  If this is not done, a teacher might as well hold class in the stillness of the woods where there is no proof that a tree actually fell.

Relationships Created in September Cause Learning

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September in school is all about relationships.  Beginning with the moment that a child is told the names of her teachers-to-be and a teacher reads the roster of names assigned to her for instruction, the most essential educational agenda is “getting to know each other.”  If they don’t get their relationships right in September, the work of teaching and learning over the next eight months will suffer.

Why is this September work important?  Because teaching and learning is a human interaction that, at its core, rests on a child’s belief that “my teacher likes me and wants me to be a successful student” and “my students understand me and want to learn from what I teach them.”  When these two perceptions are firmly in place, daily assignments, curricular projects, constant questioning and answering, and the array of tests and assessments become the natural flow of a school year.  When perceived relationships are negative, schooling is an adversarial conflict.

The perception of being “liked” by a teacher is amorphous; its nature depends entirely on the individual personalities of the student and teacher.  However, there are key features that pervade the many faces of these relationships.  A student must know that her teacher is genuine in knowing her name and in the smiles she sees on her teacher’s face.  The delivery of positive words and actions matter, because they are the consistent measure a child uses to confirm her relationships.  Quickly in the school year, a child who visually sees and emotionally feels a positive connection with her teacher begins to understand that teacher praise of successful learning and constructive criticism for things not learned well enough are given with good and sincere intention.  Frowns and corrections within a positive relationship are more likely to lead to improved learning when the same frowns and corrections in an adversarial relationship likely lead to a shut down of learning efforts.  When a child knows that her teacher really knows her, she will commit to her learning.

Equally amorphous is the concept of care.  When a child perceives that a teacher really cares about her well-being, her safety, and her success in school, the warmth of this “care factor” fuels the child’s ability to persist with learning that is challenging and problems that appear to be insurmountable.  “I care” is expressed with words and body language that teachers use to engage with a child.  Personalized eye contact, physical and appropriate proximity, encouraging language, and, most important, persistence in “teacher-to-me” engagement that instructs, coaches, and acknowledges a child’s efforts and success are staples of a caring relationship.  When these are amply demonstrated, a child will do whatever it takes to succeed.  When these are absent, a child simply shuts down her willingness to participate in school.

Teachers who commit themselves to building the perception of their genuine liking and caring for each child as an individual and unique student can cause all the children assigned to their instruction to learn and grow in their knowledge, skills, and understandings of grade level curriculum.  Beyond the immediacy of the school year, teachers who do these will be remembered well for a lifetime.  Teachers who don’t build “I like you” and “I care about your learning” perceptions need to re-evaluate their professional career pathway, because their students already have written them off.