Why Didn't You Get Mad?
This week I taught my first Kindergarten and 1-2nd grade classes this year. I have eight Kinders and 17 first and second grade students in two separated classes that switch halfway through. I took on these classes in addition to the three I was already teaching because we are lacking teaching artists and even substitutes to fill positions this year. No one signed up to teach these kids Tuesdays and Thursdays. I can only do one day for now until they find a permanent replacement for both days or someone to cover Thursdays. The other teacher working with these kids is ready to quit so I knew it was going to be tricky starting out. No matter what group of kids, the first day is full of tests.
Since I was a child, I have been really good at silently observing, especially when I feel the least bit uncomfortable or cautious. I got the kinders first and the task to start out with was going to the restroom before even entering the classroom. They've been in school long enough to know and mostly respect the expectation of lining up and moving through the hallway.
Two students took what seemed like a ridiculous amount of time to do their business in the bathroom. It allowed me time to observe some of the more rambunctious students and to identify those that were well behaved enough to help me with checking on other students, such as the two taking time in the restroom. I was feeling that pressure, wanting to be in two places at once but knowing I couldn't leave the majority of my kids in the hallway. It forced me to be patient and breath, and redirect those fooling around chaotically while we waited.
When we regrouped and made it to the classroom, I lined them up outside the room against the wall in the hallway and gave my first set of instructions. No one was listening. One girl was twirling around with her scarf over her eyes, the two bathroom sloths were giggling together, my two boys couldn't keep their hands off each other, one student had extreme auditory sensitivity and was getting overwhelmed by the noise, and the last two were watching everyone else but not listening.
I chose a random student (at this point I hadn't learned everyone's name anyways) "Can you repeat the instructions for me?"
The student couldn't. "Do you know why you don't know?"
"Because I wasn't listening."
"Yes, let's work harder at actively listening." I then proceeded to introduce myself. "You can call me Ms. B. You can remember it like this, Ms. B likes a peaceful classroom," I held up my peace sign, "and her name begins with the second letter of the alphabet" I waved my peace sign.
Then I repeated the instructions again. There were three things were were going to do: 1. put all book bags and coats in front of the big screen 2. sit in a circle on the floor 3 play a name game. I went through the expectations a couple times and then called on different students to repeat different parts of the instructions back to me. Eventually we got through the entire list and everyone understood the expectations. When we were quiet and listening I led them into the classroom.
The drama room I teach in has no tables. There are small chairs aligning the walls, one big screen, a teachers desk and chair in the back corner, three windows, and a wide wooden floor space. On the wood floor space available I had set down three different large pieces of brown paper--the kind schools have to cover tables and protect them from the rough use of supplies--in a horseshoe position facing me. My idea was to protect the flooring from the pastels and clay I planned to use that day.
I watched to see what the students would do. They all came in and dropped their bags and coats down in front of the screen. Check. Then all eight ran across the room like released bazookas. Chaos erupted as I expected it would and I stood clutching the attendance focusing on controlling my breathing. In moments of high stress it's important to reflect on what's going on in your own body, and know that taking deep breaths can slow your heart rate and make all the difference. Voices were raised, students started kicking and pulling at the brown paper until it ripped, girls were rolling around like turtles flipped on their shells. I slowly walked over to the door and shut it knowing this experiment would never work if another teacher walked by, saw the chaos, assumed I couldn't control my kiddos, and imposed their authority in my room. That would have ruined everything.
I walked to the center of the room in front of all the children and folded my hands, stood up straight, and waited, making sure to keep my expression a neutral frown. Do not show anger or overt frustration. Patience is something my ex boyfriend told me I needed to work at, he was full of bullshit but I will say he never saw me teach in a classroom to know that all of my patience is used where it counts the most when I know how impactful it can be.
I waited. And waited. Waited even more. I waited and most importantly I watched. This takes a lot of practice especially if you care a ton about time wasting and your lesson. The important thing is to put your children's social emotional learning before anything.
Eventually I identified the silent helper, the first child to cave and sit down quietly. Then I identified the conductor, the next child who followed suit while also directing and ordering other students to do the same. I didn't move. Half the class started to form a circle. The other half took more time but I waited and said nothing. I did intensify my eye contact and purse my lips on occasion when there was an escalation in chaos with the last four children. I knew there would eventually be a full circle. You need to have hope and faith in the goodness of children. They are not evil to start out with, when they turn "evil" it's usually because we've done something.
When everyone was finally seated and on edge because of my foreboding silence, I stood looking down at everyone and I asked, "What just happened when we walked into the room? Describe to me the things we did." Using collective language is important here because you shouldn't separate yourself from them--you are a part of this ecosystem and community too. You should ask the students to describe their own behavior and identify what was done before reiterating the expectation. "What eventually happened?" They described how I got quiet and waited until they sat down. "That tells me that you knew what the expectation was. How do you think it makes me feel when you rip up my paper and don't listen to me?" They then said all the things I was feeling: sad, angry, hurt, and frustrated. It's important for students to see your human vulnerability. "Yeah, you all hurt my feelings." Then one student asked my favorite question, the question that really opens the door to making the classroom a trusting space, "Why didn't you get mad?"
What good would it have done to raise my voice and scream and get upset? It would have hurt my voice, made me look like a monster, used fear as a control factor like a dictator, and it would set up an expectation that it's how I problem solve. I know it's not their malicious intent to hurt my feelings, they're just being free loving children and exploring. With new people they push boundaries to see where they are. But you can set limits without creating a fence of fear to keep children in line.
For their insight and observations they were rewarded by getting to play my name game. I learned and memorized everyone's name. I was warned about one of the students in my class before we started, she's the one with auditory sensitivity which is something I noticed on my own. My colleague explained she had a world class tantrum on day one and almost always has a breakdown. Treating a child as though they are a ticking time bomb as was suggested is almost never a good idea. It's better to work on identify triggers and really working on individualized communication with that student. Otherwise the student can feel alienated, or worse use their tantrums for manipulation to get what they want. To begin, you can invent a hand sign or signal that means "I am overwhelmed" or "I can't handle what's going on" for the student to show you to let you know when they might be set off. Then you can begin to look at patterns around when that is being communicated and learn what triggers the onset of emotion. My little ticking time bomb is set off by too much noise and being talked over by other students. It took some redirecting and a lot of questioning but we managed to get back to baseline every time she started to break down.
After the name game we started to set up some classroom norms. We now know that respecting supplies and the classroom is an expectation. We also know that when I want to get everyone's attention I say, "one, two three, eyes on Ms. B" and they are to respond, "One two, look at you." We tried this out several times. Another one I've used in the past is "stop, look, and listen," and students are to respond with hand gestures for stopping, looking, and listening.
By the end of class we learned names and set up some classroom norms. We didn't get to do any art. And that was their subliminal consequence for not listening to directions. Overall it was a pretty successful experience. This type of experiment always leaves you feeling drained. I never identify more with tenderized meat than when I stay silent, wait, listen, and observe--but those are essential skills to establish trust in a classroom.
Since I was a child, I have been really good at silently observing, especially when I feel the least bit uncomfortable or cautious. I got the kinders first and the task to start out with was going to the restroom before even entering the classroom. They've been in school long enough to know and mostly respect the expectation of lining up and moving through the hallway.
Two students took what seemed like a ridiculous amount of time to do their business in the bathroom. It allowed me time to observe some of the more rambunctious students and to identify those that were well behaved enough to help me with checking on other students, such as the two taking time in the restroom. I was feeling that pressure, wanting to be in two places at once but knowing I couldn't leave the majority of my kids in the hallway. It forced me to be patient and breath, and redirect those fooling around chaotically while we waited.
When we regrouped and made it to the classroom, I lined them up outside the room against the wall in the hallway and gave my first set of instructions. No one was listening. One girl was twirling around with her scarf over her eyes, the two bathroom sloths were giggling together, my two boys couldn't keep their hands off each other, one student had extreme auditory sensitivity and was getting overwhelmed by the noise, and the last two were watching everyone else but not listening.
I chose a random student (at this point I hadn't learned everyone's name anyways) "Can you repeat the instructions for me?"
The student couldn't. "Do you know why you don't know?"
"Because I wasn't listening."
"Yes, let's work harder at actively listening." I then proceeded to introduce myself. "You can call me Ms. B. You can remember it like this, Ms. B likes a peaceful classroom," I held up my peace sign, "and her name begins with the second letter of the alphabet" I waved my peace sign.
Then I repeated the instructions again. There were three things were were going to do: 1. put all book bags and coats in front of the big screen 2. sit in a circle on the floor 3 play a name game. I went through the expectations a couple times and then called on different students to repeat different parts of the instructions back to me. Eventually we got through the entire list and everyone understood the expectations. When we were quiet and listening I led them into the classroom.
The drama room I teach in has no tables. There are small chairs aligning the walls, one big screen, a teachers desk and chair in the back corner, three windows, and a wide wooden floor space. On the wood floor space available I had set down three different large pieces of brown paper--the kind schools have to cover tables and protect them from the rough use of supplies--in a horseshoe position facing me. My idea was to protect the flooring from the pastels and clay I planned to use that day.
I watched to see what the students would do. They all came in and dropped their bags and coats down in front of the screen. Check. Then all eight ran across the room like released bazookas. Chaos erupted as I expected it would and I stood clutching the attendance focusing on controlling my breathing. In moments of high stress it's important to reflect on what's going on in your own body, and know that taking deep breaths can slow your heart rate and make all the difference. Voices were raised, students started kicking and pulling at the brown paper until it ripped, girls were rolling around like turtles flipped on their shells. I slowly walked over to the door and shut it knowing this experiment would never work if another teacher walked by, saw the chaos, assumed I couldn't control my kiddos, and imposed their authority in my room. That would have ruined everything.
I walked to the center of the room in front of all the children and folded my hands, stood up straight, and waited, making sure to keep my expression a neutral frown. Do not show anger or overt frustration. Patience is something my ex boyfriend told me I needed to work at, he was full of bullshit but I will say he never saw me teach in a classroom to know that all of my patience is used where it counts the most when I know how impactful it can be.
I waited. And waited. Waited even more. I waited and most importantly I watched. This takes a lot of practice especially if you care a ton about time wasting and your lesson. The important thing is to put your children's social emotional learning before anything.
Eventually I identified the silent helper, the first child to cave and sit down quietly. Then I identified the conductor, the next child who followed suit while also directing and ordering other students to do the same. I didn't move. Half the class started to form a circle. The other half took more time but I waited and said nothing. I did intensify my eye contact and purse my lips on occasion when there was an escalation in chaos with the last four children. I knew there would eventually be a full circle. You need to have hope and faith in the goodness of children. They are not evil to start out with, when they turn "evil" it's usually because we've done something.
When everyone was finally seated and on edge because of my foreboding silence, I stood looking down at everyone and I asked, "What just happened when we walked into the room? Describe to me the things we did." Using collective language is important here because you shouldn't separate yourself from them--you are a part of this ecosystem and community too. You should ask the students to describe their own behavior and identify what was done before reiterating the expectation. "What eventually happened?" They described how I got quiet and waited until they sat down. "That tells me that you knew what the expectation was. How do you think it makes me feel when you rip up my paper and don't listen to me?" They then said all the things I was feeling: sad, angry, hurt, and frustrated. It's important for students to see your human vulnerability. "Yeah, you all hurt my feelings." Then one student asked my favorite question, the question that really opens the door to making the classroom a trusting space, "Why didn't you get mad?"
What good would it have done to raise my voice and scream and get upset? It would have hurt my voice, made me look like a monster, used fear as a control factor like a dictator, and it would set up an expectation that it's how I problem solve. I know it's not their malicious intent to hurt my feelings, they're just being free loving children and exploring. With new people they push boundaries to see where they are. But you can set limits without creating a fence of fear to keep children in line.
For their insight and observations they were rewarded by getting to play my name game. I learned and memorized everyone's name. I was warned about one of the students in my class before we started, she's the one with auditory sensitivity which is something I noticed on my own. My colleague explained she had a world class tantrum on day one and almost always has a breakdown. Treating a child as though they are a ticking time bomb as was suggested is almost never a good idea. It's better to work on identify triggers and really working on individualized communication with that student. Otherwise the student can feel alienated, or worse use their tantrums for manipulation to get what they want. To begin, you can invent a hand sign or signal that means "I am overwhelmed" or "I can't handle what's going on" for the student to show you to let you know when they might be set off. Then you can begin to look at patterns around when that is being communicated and learn what triggers the onset of emotion. My little ticking time bomb is set off by too much noise and being talked over by other students. It took some redirecting and a lot of questioning but we managed to get back to baseline every time she started to break down.
After the name game we started to set up some classroom norms. We now know that respecting supplies and the classroom is an expectation. We also know that when I want to get everyone's attention I say, "one, two three, eyes on Ms. B" and they are to respond, "One two, look at you." We tried this out several times. Another one I've used in the past is "stop, look, and listen," and students are to respond with hand gestures for stopping, looking, and listening.
By the end of class we learned names and set up some classroom norms. We didn't get to do any art. And that was their subliminal consequence for not listening to directions. Overall it was a pretty successful experience. This type of experiment always leaves you feeling drained. I never identify more with tenderized meat than when I stay silent, wait, listen, and observe--but those are essential skills to establish trust in a classroom.
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