thepoorteacher.com

The children are maddening.  I've seen a lot of disrespect this week, and I'm sick of it.  I could go on and on with a veritable cornucopia of foul anecdotes, but I'd rather not dwell on the negativity of young people.  Though I search for the X marking the spot, positive attitudes are a treasure buried somewhere well outside the walls of my school building.  Not many kids are having fun in school, and the fun they do have comes at the expense of others.  I hardly feel a sense of wonder within any of them.  Few thirst for knowledge while the majority thrives on the pleasure principle.  They do what makes them feel good, which generally involves breaking most of the common sense rules in the student handbook.  I've written up a lot of kids this week.

I'm not a stickler for the rules.  I encourage conscientious objection.  I do not want a room full of conformists following every rule as it is written.  As long as humans write the laws, they will be open to interpretation.  However, I cannot tolerate disrespect.  I have a rule for myself about classroom management.  When someone breaks a rule and needs correction:

1. I ask politely the first time.  I want to correct the behavior in a positive way, dropping a friendly reminder.  Soft voice, eye contact, polite words.
2. I issue a command the second time.  I make it imperative, dressing down my original statement, removing the polite words, speaking sternly, and intensifying my facial expressions to match the urgency of my request.
3. If I have to ask a third time, it will not end well for you.  Write ups, phone calls, parent teacher conferences...

I've had some success with this method.  I started thinking about the steps I take when a kid acts up, and realized that I was doing this process without outlining it for myself.  When I forgot my routine in the heat of the moment, I used to skip straight to step three.  Now, I calmly take a moment, remind myself of my procedure, and I get a good result on the first try.  Not everyone complies, but that's my cue to bring forth the consequences.

I remember being in high school.  I'm not going to sit here and say that it was the greatest time of my life, but I looked forward to going to school and learning about something new each day.  I looked forward to socializing during lunch, not during class.  I realized that I was working toward the goal of higher education, working for an unwritten future outlined by the choices I made each and every day of my life.  Not too many of the kids in my school can say the same thing.  The students who echo my sentiments are losing out on enrichment by the derailing forces surrounding their desks in every classroom.  When I think of the instructional time I lose each day to behavioral corrections, I feel ill.  I do a pretty good job of managing my classroom, but if I'm losing 10% of my instructional time each and every period (about 4.5 minutes on a 45 minute class) each day, by year end I will have lost 10% of the school year, roughly ONE MONTH of instructional time.  

Those few minutes spent enforcing common sense rules can add up if you don't nip them in the bud.  To avoid time loss, I keep the kids working.  I try not to give them any time in which to idle their minds.  My scenario above is a scary estimate.  Most days, I might lose a minute or two to management issues, and I cannot expect perfection from the kids I'm teaching.  Few have anything resembling a work ethic, but I push them to get their work done, and most days, we accomplish something worthwhile.

Spring Break can't get here soon enough.

We performed the fetal pig dissection lab in Living Environment class yesterday. I was skeptical of doing this lab with the kids I have because they tend toward immaturity. I only teach one section of Living Environment and the other Biology teacher did her dissections about two weeks ago, which led to much curiosity amongst my students as they heard tales of the experience from friends in other classes. Based on their enthusiasm at the mention of the possibility of performing the dissection, I decided to forge ahead and let them cut. It is an excellent learning activity, the kind that stays with a kid long after high school is over. I didn't want to deprive them of that experience, but I didn't want to create a management nightmare for myself.

For a week prior to the cutting day, I talked about the dissection in class and the maturity and deference required to get the most from the experience. As the week passed, three of my problem children were suspended for various tomfoolery, leaving me with fewer gremlins to worry about and assuaging my fears of putting scalpels in their hands. I managed to pump the kids up and get them really excited about the learning experience.

On the day of the cut, I posted three rules on my board in BRIGHT RED MARKER.

1. ZERO TOLERANCE.
2. SHOW RESPECT.
3. ASK QUESTIONS!

No rules would be broken today.  Break one, you're out, no second chances.  Respect must be paid to the scientific specimens who gave their lives so that you could learn today.  Do not play with the parts, do not cut unless instructed to, and treat it with the care deserved by a precious, living thing.  To throw in a positive, I encouraged them to ask lots of questions, which they did!

Everyone who showed up on time for class and heard my rules had no trouble meeting my expectations.  To minimize management issues, I put the kids into four groups of four and rearranged my room along an aisle, putting two groups facing me on each side as I walked up and down the middle to help individual groups.  I watched closely for the first few minutes, saw that they understood my expectations, and then I began to circulate throughout the room.

During the dissection, one girl asked me if she could take out her cell phone and take pictures of the pig as her group explored it.  I was hesitant at first, but I laid down ground rules for phone usage and let them take pictures.  I figure there is no harm in documenting the experience.  Engrossed in the activity, no one attempted to text message, call anyone, or play any games on their cell phones while they had them out.  For once, I have found a positive effect of cell phones in the classroom.  When they go home from school, they can show their parents something cool they did in class today.  Anything that gets them thinking about science outside of school is dandy in my book.

All went well until one girl who strolled in late decided that it would be great fun to cut off the pig's tail and twirl it around like a helicopter blade.  I asked her where it said to make that cut in the directions.  No answer.  Did I say to make that cut?  No.  Should you be twirling the tail around like that?  No.  I reiterated my message of respect and familiarized her with my expectations for the experience.

Fast forward to the very end of the experience.  Our eviscerated pigs have been dissected and it's time to clean up.  I see the pig mutilating girl picking up her tailless pig and dancing it on the dissection tray for the amusement of her friends.  I'm pissed off.

"What are you doing?  Put the pig down.  Show respect."
"But Mister, it was nothing, just having fun."

"Would you like it if someone picked up your body after you died and made you dance?  Would that be funny?"

"YOU'RE IGNORANT!  YOU'RE IGNORANT!"  She screams this at me several times, leaving me dumbfounded.

"No, I'm not ignorant.  You are.  Take your stuff and get out of here."

I suppose she did not like the fact that I pierced her veil of immortality, clueing her into the fact that she, like the pig,  will meet her own demise someday, which led her to the rousing conclusion of my ignorance.  Clearly, she is a vampire or other undying being and I was insensitive to this fact.  Silliness aside, I removed her from class without delay.

I felt that a few students crossed the line this week when they started talking about a colleague's dating habits during my Chemistry Lab class. They were finishing their weekly lab reports when all of a sudden a conversation about a young female teacher's personal life came into play. I listened for a moment. "She's dating some guy who works at Applebee's. That's so beneath her, she's so much better than that." They went on a little while longer before I quashed it. Without trying to address the matter directly and bring further undue attention to this young lady's personal life, I simply told the children that their conversation was inappropriate and that their lab was due at the end of the period. They worked quietly and did not mention it again.

The next morning, I ran into the aforementioned teacher in the faculty room and I decided to tell her what I overheard. I tried to be genteel, saying "I overheard some kids talking about your personal life in class the other day. Don't worry, it was nothing bad, but I thought you should be aware. They were talking about how you are dating some guy who works at Applebee's. Anyway, thought I'd let you know." She appreciated the notice, telling me that she sometimes lets kids into her room to eat lunch because they complain about the noise in the cafeteria and they must have overheard one of her phone conversations. A likely scenario, however, this is the same girl who runs Instant Messenger during class and had her little chats popping up while she was giving a PowerPoint presentation in class. Personal information oozes out of this young lady when you speak to her. She's very outgoing, but volunteers way too much information about herself.

The very next day, a young lady approached me during the last passing period of the day and asked, "Mr. Soandso, why do you have a Facebook?" To which I replied, "What?" in an attempt to ignore her. Determined to know why I might use a social networking site, she asked again. I said, "Why are you looking me up on Facebook? That's a little weird, don't you think?" She told me that she and a classmate were looking up their teachers online to see if any of them were "creepies." My Facebook profile is private. I took the necessary precautions to set it up that way, insuring against these sorts of misguided queries. I said, "Well, I think my profile is private, just like my personal life." She told me she could only see my friends list and that she found a few of my colleagues online who weren't private and commented that checking them out online was a strange experience.

Had this sort of technology been available in my high school days, I think I would probably check out my teachers too. I would never approach a teacher about his or her habits on the internet, but I would be interested to know what they are like outside of school. Thinking back, most of my teachers remain a mystery to me to this day. I dole out little personal tidbits and stories when applicable or teachable, but I play my cards close to my chest in this information age. Sure, I've got this blog, but I've done what I can to make it anonymous, though clever snooping might reveal my identity. These are interesting times we live in.