There have been many cases where I have felt like the enemy in my own classroom. The first time I felt it was early in my teaching career at a school in the Bronx. A student was talking loudly during a lesson. All of his classmates were clearly listening to him and not me. When I reminded him that class had started, he replied, “I was explaining something” and all of the students glared at me as if I was the one who was out of line. Who knows? Maybe I was. After all, I was engaging in the same struggle to be an explainer as he. But in that scenario I lost, because he just continued with his explanation, the rest of the class continued listening, and I was confronted with the sobering realization that the lecture is a dying art in New York City public schools.
But there is a part of me that refuses to believe this. It’s the part that was inspired by my 9th grade English teacher Mr. Everett with his cool Clint Eastwood like voice and disposition, which whispered “Make my day” to any freshman that would dare to be a distraction. We couldn’t quite describe what it was that compelled us to respect him. Maybe we were intimidated by the fact that he had so much self control, confidence and above all, patience of which was mostly displayed in the way he carefully chose every word he said with grace and precision. He created a sense of foreboding in his students, leaving us to question what a man with so much patience would do if he was ever pushed to lose it. So we all just gave him the floor whenever his gentle but firm voice suggested it and his strong presence demanded it. I once learned the consequence of violating the unspoken rule against speaking out of turn when I made fun of a student named Jason as he joyfully gave Mr. Everett an account of his dance filled weekend at the local club on the other side of town. I interrupted the conversation with an incredulous question “Jason you can dance”? Instantly, as the words recklessly leapt off my tongue I knew I’d screwed up, because I could hear Mr. Everett taking a breath as he carefully loaded his response to my ill-advised critique from his expansive lexicon and became a verbal Dirty Harry. His icy reply was “Mr. Knight are you implying that this student can’t dance because of his color?”, If so, your classmate and I find that extremely insulting and beneath you”. I was speechless because he was not only right, but his approach was completely unexpected. And, as an added bonus I learned what the word “imply” meant. Although I didn’t change my beliefs about my classmate’s dancing ability, I learned the valuable lesson that there was a time and a place to express my unsolicited opinions. His class was not one of them.
In the current landscape of public education however, Mr. Everett’s approach would seem to be pretty close to impossible.
Mr. Everett had a poetic approach to teaching that the students in my classes fail to appreciate. There are many reasons to consider why students would be non-responsive to his brand of reasoning, like parenting (or the lack of), socio-economics, etc. But the most present factor I encounter daily is a competitive drive to be seen, heard and acknowledged, by any means necessary, no matter how many times they are removed from class, their parents are called, or they are suspended. Most of them are willing to hazard the risk of punishment because the prize they are after is self-esteem. And the only obstacles to this goal are their fellow students and me and my “boring” rants about analyzing elements of plot in short fiction. Even my better students who actually focus on the lessons have a tendency to rudely cut off their peers during class discussions just to be acknowledged for giving the correct answer. I have tried the Everett approach once or twice when this has happened. But the deep sigh, purposed glare, and carefully selected reprimand only resulted in half-hearted apologies followed by repeat offenses 10-20 seconds later (Yes, I have timed them). Other students who find alternate more effective methods of getting attention like farting, belching, or cursing, all of which are done loudly, are too numerous for me to take the calculated approach of my former teacher. In the past I have resorted to yelling, but this is merely a temporary solution. One could argue that my students are enthusiastic and their energies should be redirected and harnessed. This responsibility of course lays with me, the teacher, but the major lesson my students retain daily, is that in the urban class room, only the strongest and the loudest survive. The competitive atmosphere that these factors create is my biggest obstacle to maintaining order in my classes.
Since I have been teaching I have heard many approaches to the growing rambunctiousness in public school class rooms. Many of these models such as backward design, ramp-up and the workshop model all have one major goal in mind which is creating a student centered environment in which the teacher is just a facilitator and the students run the class. Although this is a noble concept, there is also a major flaw. Although students have the ability to take control of any class discussion or activity, they lack the discipline to use this power to a constructive end. In response to this dilemma we teachers set up rules such as “The One Mic” rule which states that only one student should speak at a time. There are also the Socratic seminar and “accountable talk” models which require that students willingly participate in meaningful discussions which address open ended essential questions like “What is a hero?” or “What is self-awareness?”
These approaches create major problems. One is the student who has barely reached the first level of knowledge on Bloom’s Taxonomy. This is a student whose entire academic career before high school was in environments where “right answers” were all that mattered. Often in scenarios like this, the teacher must be diligent in helping students engage in a level of thinking that goes beyond the gold star. So, in high school, students are often introduced abruptly to a form of instruction which asks them to find their own answers to varied levels of teacher questioning. This is one example of differentiated instruction which on paper is supposed to address various learning styles and levels of the student. Students however, become very frustrated because all they want is the answer sans the bells and whistles which educators refer to as the learning process.
Another issue is that in this current environment where older and more experienced teachers are feeling a growing pressure to retire, inexperienced teachers who are new to the daunting task of addressing multiple learning styles, levels, and not to mention egos can easily be bludgeoned into submission with the ever present question “but is this right”? Or “What we gotta’ do”? Incessantly asking a teacher these questions even during tests is customary for this new breed of student. When my students ask those popular questions, I usually ask them what they think. This approach has had some pronounced effects on my class room environment. I have been cursed at, accused of being a bad teacher and even complained against formally. I have become abruptly aware that teachers must perform juggling acts to maintain integrity, please their students and keep administrators happy. On one hand, the teacher who does not address the constant outcry for right answers during his lessons can quickly lose favor with his students which results in disciplinary problems. On other hand, he will also lose equal favor with administrators if he cannot show that he has used every measure possible to address the needs of students and use this data to transform them into critical thinkers.
In one of my classes a student who was unprepared for a test stormed out of class because he didn’t think he should be required to take it. His only reason for his absences was cutting school. I am of course charged with the often tedious task of calling his parents to see why he cut and inform them of all of the work he missed, only to be met with a tone and familiar voice which informs me that the number has been disconnected. Another student who decided to talk and disrupt his peers during an exam was removed from class and sent home. He has since filed a complaint against the school for unfair treatment which is still pending. In reality, students in my classes only want to be “taught” on their terms. The so-called student centered approach is producing a self-centered pupil who is not shy when it comes to accusing his teachers of being inept. And if you don’t believe him, he’s got the poor grades to prove it. The pressure that is imposed on everyone involved in the educational process gives students their pick of scapegoats to justify their own failures. While everyone is fighting for their jobs, they just run amok, fully aware that when they are punished they can blame their behavior on the parent who is too over worked to pay them any attention, the teacher who is stressfully trying to manage 29 other egos, or the dean whom they claim just doesn’t like them. The conflicting interests held by teachers who want autonomy in their classrooms, politicians who want favorable statistics and administrators who want to keep their schools open have made way for a new kind of school environment to emerge.
It would seem that in the midst of all of the problems facing us in education, teachers, administrators, politicians, and of course parents all have some explaining to do. But maybe the time for explaining has come to an end. We are all aware that schools and class rooms are not perfect worlds. But I can recall a time when every effort was made by faculty, students, staff and parents to make them at least seem that way. I can also recall a time when I did not have to be yelled at to strive for perfection, when it didn’t matter whether or not a student liked their seat or whether the teacher “talked too much”. The irony in all of this is that the innovators of this new student centered approach all share these memories. Could it be possible that we are doing more damage than good when we grant autonomy to children who are frighteningly aware that it is an illusion in every other facet of the system that is selling it? Maybe I’m just too old school, but I have decided that teaching is still possible. And maybe the old kind of explaining in the class room is all that I need. There is a little voice in my head that keeps explaining to me, that I should not be afraid to go ahead and make someone’s day, because carefully chosen words can still inspire.
