The days at my placement site have
been getting longer, harder, and more frustrating, but I was warned not to let
the negativity color my practices, and that was some very good advice, indeed.
But when I look back on my first journal entry, I have to laugh at the
bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, exuberant version of myself I was nine weeks ago.
Reality clogged up my pipe dreams for teaching fool-proof units that were
elegantly designed, engaging, and ambitious. The glossy ideals I had are no
longer there, but there is something better now.
Flexibility.
I have learned the beauty of planning lessons with some give. Of course, I’m
frustrated that my beautiful, intricate, and delicate original plans are no
longer relevant, but what I have is so much better because I know that the
constant adjustments and concessions I have had to make have forced me to be
more adaptable than I thought possible. My plans are still effective and
engaging, but rely less on timing and more on broad goals. As a self-proclaimed
control freak, I’m proud of myself for finding a way to adapt without giving up
important and worthwhile lessons.
For
example, I have noticed a disturbing number of students coming to class without
something to write with, so I decided to turn the lack of preparedness into a
teachable moment by implementing the “Box of Shame.” The Box of Shame is a
pencil box that I stocked with 50 sharpened pencils, some pens, and a pad of
Post-It notes. Here is how it worked:
“Ummm…
I don’t have a pen. Can I have one?”
“I’m
SO glad you asked, D--!” I cheerfully replied to the student as I handed him a
pencil from the box. “THIS is the Box of Shame. It has tons of pens and pencils
for you to use during class, but the catch is, you have to write your name on
the Post-It and I will deduct 1 participation point because you’re not prepared
for class.”
The
student immediately threw the pencil back in the box, looked around the
classroom and desperately asked, “Can anyone loan me a pen? Please?”
The
rest of the students laughed and began chanting, “Box of shame! Box of shame!”
until another student took pity and handed the unprepared boy a pen.
Since
that day, the students nearly always bring a writing utensil to class, and I
have noticed that when one student is unprepared, another will almost always
come to his rescue. The beauty of that particular teachable moment is that the
students learned to rely on each other, if not themselves, to be prepared. Nine
weeks ago, I would have been furious that these kids were holding up my
carefully tailored lesson plans, but now I see that I need to build in some
flexibility, and in finding that flexibility, I can find teachable moments with
lasting results.
Even
when I came up against an incident of plagiarism, I found a way to react
without ruining a student’s self-esteem. Since the paper the student submitted
did not actually address the question, my cooperating teacher and I decided
that instead of failing him for not completing the task (and very possibly
plagiarizing), we would give him another chance to redeem himself by giving him
the actual assignment to complete in
class. By choosing this course of action, the student has the opportunity
to receive a grade, AND I don’t have to accuse him of plagiarism.
I
am learning how to balance being flexible and being rigid, too. My freshmen had
an assignment where they had to create a Facebook page for a character from the
novel they had just finished reading, and when we reviewed the pages in class,
they were abysmal. Instead of outright failing them or omitting the assignment,
I offered the class one last-ditch opportunity: to meet me in the computer lab
during study hall and improve the quality of content on their projects. All but
three students were in the computer lab during study hall, and they worked. By the time I reviewed the
projects after school, I was so unbelievably proud of them and simultaneously
relieved that the assignment wasn’t a waste.
My
sophomores, on the other hand, need more rigid expectations. I was sorely
disappointed to find only six, 100-point essays submitted today, after granting
a 2-day extension, and I will not be offering any second chances. I suspect
that the sophomores will realize their mistake when I hand them their grades
for the quarter. It breaks my heart to see so many of them failing, but I am certain
that a slap of reality will help them see what is expected of them.
I
have high hopes for my juniors, especially after I chose to improvise
Thursday’s lesson on scene directing by using their own writing. Initially, I
had planned to give them a scene from Antigone
to direct in small groups, but after one student asked if he could read his
assignment, an alternate ending for Oedipus,
I decided to put off the first scene from Antigone
to allow him and his classmates a chance to direct a scene based on his
writing. It went off beautifully. The class was engaged, constructive, and
exhibited the basic interpretation skills I originally planned to teach using
the film version of Antigone.
Being
flexible with my lessons is difficult, but I’m finding myself more satisfied
with the results than when I follow my lesson plans exactly as they’re written.
As the saying goes, “A strong branch will break against a fierce wind, but a
flexible reed will merely bend.”
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