BEING about it

So I realized that I haven't fully explained the title of my blog.  The phrase "Don't just talk about, BE about it" is posted prominently next to the door of my classroom.  The students heard that phrase every day at the beginning of the school year for quite a while.  It gets to the heart of one of the habits I have to un-teach my students.  They come to me in fifth grade with the perfect answer of what they're "supposed" to do in situations when asked.  For example, "In the hallways, how are we supposed to walk?"  All of my students would answer some version of "Quietly and in a straight line."  There's no question about that.  The question is, Why don't they do it all of the time?

So, after asking about the behavior expectations in the hallway AND discussing why we do it (because we're considerate of the other learners in our school, not because my teacher told me to or it's the rule), I follow up with, Don't just talk about, BE about it.  So they now know- I can say what I'm going to do all day long (and the words are important to put the intention out there into existence) but after that, they need to actually do it for it to mean something.

This becomes tricky to teach because this means that, from now on, I can't be living under the idea of "Do what I say, not what I do."  I'm held accountable for this too.  If I say I'm going to do something, I need to do it.  Here's a great example of a tricky situation that comes up with adults in my classroom:

During independent work time, I expect a very quiet classroom.  I, personally, need silence to work, and expect many of my students need it too.  The problem is, some other teachers/adults that come into my classroom didn't get that memo.  I've literally had adults come into my classroom and loudly exclaim, "Wow, it's quiet in here!"  At the beginning of the school year, I never addressed it.  But since really hammering home this concept of not just talking about, I have to BE about my quiet classroom, no matter who is causing the noise.

So, in the name of being good to my word, living into my beliefs and really modeling this concept, I've had a few awkward interactions with adults about needing to be quiet in our space.  My students get to see what it looks like to take a stand for what you're BEING about.

Gratitude

It feels like we are in the Age of Entitlement.  Rich and poor alike- students generally feel a sense of entitlement towards getting things for free.  As I entered this school year, I was brainstorming ways to  transform that sense of entitlement.  I realized that the arch nemesis of entitlement was gratitude.  Coming from low-income homes, my students are handed most things for free in school.  Break fast and lunch, school supplies, transportation, books, play grounds, Smart Boards in every classroom. So we spend a lot of time talking about how nothing is free in this world- someone had to pay for it and work to get it to them.  We write thank you cards to every guest we have in our room (including the impact they had on us), we say thank you every day to the lunch ladies (even if they never respond).

The biggest way that we show gratitude on a daily basis in our classroom, though, is through Shout Outs.  This process goes like this: any student can give a Shout Out to another student during the Community Meeting at the end of the day.  They say, "I want to give a Shout Out to _________ for (a specific deed the student did)."  They are never allowed to give a Shout Out to someone for "being my friend" or "for being nice."  Since my students run their own Community Meeting, I love to eaves drop on the Shout Outs.  The things my students are doing for each other, without me ever noticing, without them pointing it out to me, and their willingness to recognize that service publicly in front of their peers is absolutely extraordinary.

Admitting You're Wrong

I have a sign over my classroom. Door that reads:

Responsible people aren't afraid to admit when they make mistakes.

I had been drilling that into my students' heads since day one of school.  Fast forward to about the second month of school when I overslept and ended up arriving at work about half an hour late.  I really wanted to pretend like it didn't happen.  But I decided that I couldn't.  If I was going to talk about it, I also needed to be about it.  So, I sat my students my down on my rug and apologized for being late.  I pointed out that I made a mistake that morning and I understand that that mistake impacted them and other teachers.  Mind you, this conversation was neither easy nor natural.  I was slightly awkward  and very uncomfortable.  But being comfortable isn't my goal.  Authenticity is.  My students were initially shocked that their teacher was apologizing to them and then set out to make sure I knew that they had been taken care of and were fine.  Essentially, they didn't want me to feel bad.  That was a sweet sentiment.  Out of this slightly painful conversation, I wanted them to see an authentic conversation where someone made a genuine mistake and owned up to it.  They definitely got the blushing cheeks-awkward pause-stuttering version of authenticity that morning.


One Friday, a few months later, I simply ran out of time for a short recess you promised the kids after coming back to school from a field trip.  Incomplete about this over the weekend, I addressed it Monday with my kids. "I just have to say, I was out of integrity about Friday. I gave your word and I didn't keep it because we ran out of time."  I then listed all of the impacts I saw that my lack of integrity had on them.  Last, I made a promise for what I will do next time.  Their response was "it's ok."  They didn't beg for extra recess another day.  We just left it at that- complete about it.

The Power of Trust

My classroom is special.  We have integrity.  All of us.  The end goal is not to have highest test scores or to have straightest, quietest line in the hallway. It is to be extraordinary human beings.  For the rest of our lives.

This process unfolds in unusual and unexpected ways.  This blog is to share those unseen moments of growth and inspiration.

I start the year discussing fear's place in classroom.  The students are afraid of failing or looking bad, the teacher is afraid of the very same things.  We discuss replacing trust with fear and do some trust falls to really feel the physical experience of building trust.  We also discuss how breaking someone's trust can damage a relationship.  Trust is more important than good grades, more important than being liked, more important than getting out of trouble.  My students routinely 'fess up to many mistakes, readily accepting their punishment.  Because they know that lying to me about doing their homework will have far worse, and longer lasting, consequences than simply having to do it during lunchtime.  A child who does their homework because they truly know it's important versus one who does it because they're afraid of punishment is a whole different kid.  My homework routine in my classroom goes like this:

Students walk in and take out heir homework.  We pass out pens to rgade with.  I read aloud the answers to the homework.  No one sneaks in a pencil to finish their homework.  After the grading, students who didn't complete it are accounted for by voluntarily identifying themselves when I ask who doesn't have complete homework.  I'm not circling the classroom like a hawk looking for cheaters.  There is never any crying or fighting about who has to do Homework Lunch.  They know the consequences and prefer to keep my trust.

During the second quarter, it came out that some of the students were still afraid of me (or more afraid of the consequences they would receive for doing things). This upset me. The goal is for students to really internalize doing things because they believe it is the right thing to do and not because someone is punishing them or even bribing them a reward.  I had a meeting with two well-respected students in the class to gauge the situation and called a Community Meeting for that afternoon.  I told the students that their two classmates were going to lead the meeting and then I stepped out of the room and waited patiently outside of the classroom, door propped open, but out of ear shot.  After about 10 minutes of chatter, and shushing, and chatter again, they ettled down.  To this day, I still don't know what they talked about.  All I know is, about 20 minutes later, a student popped her head out and told me they were ready for me.  When I walked in, I had no idea what to expect.  I sat down in front of the group and suddenly, out of no where, they all say at once "we're sorry."  Sorry for what?  I was not expecting an apology.  They weren't in trouble.  I just wanted them not to be afraid anymore.  Since that day, there has been a large shift in our trust.  I can't describe how it feels.  I just know that they have my back and they know that I will always have theirs.