I Think; Therefore I Struggle

Years ago in my Spanish classes, I would arrange my desks and chairs in rows whenever I wanted to give a quiz. There were days, however, when I wanted the students to sit in rows for a different activity. On those days, the students would file in, develop a confused look and ask, "Is there a quiz today?"Every single little thing that we do in our classrooms affects what and the way our students think. Is this also true of our own thinking? Is it possible that our own perceptions cause unnecessary stress for ourselves and our students?

I think; therefore I struggle. What we believe about (everything, really) children and learning comes from what our minds create based entirely on what we see and experience. Example: our brains have created a belief (indeed, often our democratically-created classroom norms statements say) that a "well-behaved" child hears our directions, then quietly acts on them immediately. So, when we're faced with a child who doesn't act like that, we sometimes use words like difficult, non-compliant, defiant and bad. The reality is, most often, a child is eager to please the adults charged with their care. However, doing their best with what they've got going on may not jive with what we think they should accomplish. This can lead to us thinking negatively about the child or their ability to learn.

Can you perceive this metacognitive downward spiral?

I asked a student who was repeatedly out of their seat after multiple redirects to sit using a stern voice. After a moment, the student got up whacked me across the back. I don't know how to handle this child. This child can't be taught in my environment safely. My classroom isn't safe. My school isn't safe. I'm not safe.

How can our brains not take us there? Our world is, quite literally, a comparison machine. Besides, who wouldn't rather have a room full of children that we (don't think) we have to worry about causing physical harm when our backs are turned?

Teaching and learning, it seems, is a profound exercise in curiosity. Not just thinking and judging what we think but the deliberate act of asking important questions about what's going on. Some, but not the majority of these questions will be outside my head out loud to the child. If we're not careful, our haste to manage classroom situations with thinking and prior knowledge that isn't always accurate can siphon our need to be curious about our children's actual needs in that moment:

A student in my class is repeatedly out of their seat. "I wonder if they've eaten breakfast?" They said that they ate. Hmm. Still getting up and walking around. "I wonder if they need a break." I ask the child if they'd like a break. The child says 'yes'. After the break, they're still active, but are trying their best to get to work. The child is being safe so I'll let that go and check in with them again a little later.

Of course, sometimes this scenario and ones like it can escalate out of easy support. This approach can also seem like more work than simply yelling across the room, but only because our brains usually handle it that way, and questioning seems "extra". Once we are used to being curious, however, questioning will become our default. We'll deal with fewer challenges because our focus will be on needs rather than behaviors. I'm discovering that my middle schoolers really appreciate this approach, and that students will volunteer to share their needs more often because there's no risk of being shouted down for doing so. Safety begets safety. Just remember that it's a process, not a switch.

I teach in an EL Education school. Interestingly, 17th Century French thinker (see what I did there?!) René Descartes (whose famous quote I paraphrased in the title) was an advocate of traveling (at a time when most people weren't globetrotting) as a way of broadening ones intellectual horizons. Three hundred years later, 20th Century German educator Kurt Hahn's work around "learning expeditions" into the woods led to the development of Outward Bound and Expeditionary Learning (EL). Big learning can make thinking about our thinking very powerful. But, what about that day after day seemingly mundane metacognition? Reflection on learning is the single most important way to build and develop intellectual agency. It's also the thing that's the most difficult to teach. Or is it?

More about reflection and agency next week. Until then...

Happy snacking!

Charles

Head chef

teacherssnacks.com

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