Every teacher wants to make a huge difference with their students. We walk into the classroom day one, greet our students with big, open arms, and we plan for the greatest school year. Then, tragedy happens. Our students have problems that exist outside of us. As much as we wanted to be there for our students, there comes a moment, usually one-to-two months after the school year starts, where that fire that students once had starts to simmer down. Their responsibilities at home start to pile up. They care about things outside of school, and their motivation to complete tests, make up work, and extra credit assignments starts to go down. The worst mistake a teacher can make, in my humble opinion, is to tell students that their classroom matters more than whatever it is that they are facing.
I want my students to be successful in life. When I used to follow the typical structure of how I envisioned a teacher should be, I would always try to push onto my students, telling them how much English matters. Now, I ask my students why what they do matters. My students are so much more receptive to completing their work when they feel like they have a voice inside the classroom. When they can talk about these taboo subjects like dating, friendships, mental health, or even the parts of school that they don't like, my classroom seems to feel so much more real and comfortable.
I demand a lot from my students. I demand their respect, their patience, their humility, and their effort. More than anything, I demand that they're real. Like I told one of my classes today, which has been particularly more sharp thanks to the resilience of a number of teachers, "you can't learn if you don't admit that you are struggling." You can tell yourself that you're amazing or incredible all you want, but we all should be struggling a little bit if we're ever ambitious enough to grow. Rest easy, but open yourself to your life for what it is, and don't settle into the insecurity of passive admiration.
I was talking with a colleague after school about how there are good questions and bad questions, a remark that my grade school librarians would scoff at, to think that there could ever be such a thing as a bad question. Sometimes my students will ask questions out of anxiety, when the content is difficult, to make themselves feel like they are in control of their learning. I don't answer these questions. To many students surprise, I tell them no. Wait, and listen. The learning will come when you let go and stop pushing your voice out. Breathe it in.
Great questions reach the exact spot of what you do and do not know, and asks a question that connects the two together. Bad questions ask about things you're already aware of, or that are intentionally unrelated to the topic at hand. These questions can be used to trap yourself into a mindset of security, without opening yourself to the potential to grow. But like my colleague said, "there are no such thing as bad questions. Only a bad time to ask a question," and maybe there's more wisdom to that sentiment as well. Maybe when my students ask questions out of anxiety, they're only revealing that there's more on their mind than just class. Maybe what they need is a connection to what they're thinking deep down, to bridge their deeper thoughts to the classroom, and open themselves to grow even more.
Something I greatly respect about my students is their resilience. My students, with their variety of strengths, amaze me as a whole when they put their minds to something. Their ability to connect is outstanding. With structure, and a firm hand, they're able to create great thoughts. And still, we have so much more to learn, so I, too, need to breathe air into the fire inside myself, to ask for more when the voice of appreciation calls to me. "Don't settle," I tell myself. We are capable of more, even if I am thankful.
Comments