management

Some people are cat people. I am not. I am also not a kindergarten person, or 1st, or 5th grade person really, but the real little ones scare me. Imagine a city girl camping in the woods: oh my god! What was that sound!? Is it a monster? No… it’s a kindergartner who just got into the glitter. It’s a for-real glitcident!

If you’re good with the littles, I’m impressed; we need people like you, but I start sweating when they even walk up to me: are they going to ask me to hold their tissue or something… do they even use tissues? Some teachers specialize in a content area. I specialize in 8th grade (ok, I see you 7th graders, you can be my favorite, too!). Thirteen to fourteen year olds, you know, the real smelly ones? They’re my favorite.

I am fascinated by their brain development, and find them to be like the chihuahua of the dog world because they, too, are perfect. You tell them “no” and they look at you like, “excuse me? Did you just say… NO… to me?” And I smile. Oh yea, silly me, I meant to say that that was awesome and I give you a brownie point for style, but let’s do more awesome writing and less awesome pencil flipping. Oh, ok, Ms. E., how many brownie points is that now? Oh I think about 15. Ok. Gets back to work. Later that day my teacher buddy-in-crime tells me she had a strange conversation with one of our students. Now that could mean any number of things: how concerned should I be? She’s shares that the student in question asked her with genuine concern what a brownie point was. Recap: “That means I get 15 brownies at the end of the year, right? Does she bake those or buy them? I don’t get it.” Me: Face palms and giggles with teacher-buddy. Wow, we should totally bake them brownies at the end of the year. (If only we baked.) I wonder what other references I’ve been assuming they get? Prerequisite: you do have to want to understand the age you say is your favorite in order to say they’re your favorite. Lead with curiosity.

Dr. Jay Giedd explains that right before age 13, the brain is adding gray matter: the thinking material. This explains why 5th through 7th graders can be such voracious learners. Then, beginning at age 13, the brain goes through a pruning period, where synapses are being trimmed and consolidated. This doesn’t mean they learn less, just differently. It also leads to them losing about a pound of gray matter every year from age 13 to 18 as their brain pathways rewire. So if it feels like they are feverishly trying to figure out who they are and who they are not, what they need and what they do not, that’s because they are, by trying to get rid of a pound of inefficient synapses that year, which in my opinion makes them that much more fun to teach- there’s an energy in that. And why it is so important that I provide opportunities for students to make personal connections in the classroom and create meaning in THEIR own ways. It’s their brain they’re using the rest of their life, not yours.

Teens also tend to take more risks. If they didn’t, Dr. Thomas Armstrong reminds us that if puberty didn’t make us take risks, we would all still be living in a cave, so there is an evolutionary reason to do so. Teens explore. They form bonds with other peers and discover to which tribe they belong, and who they will spend the majority of their adult lives with. So it makes sense that their social lives are a much higher priority than at any other time. Which is also why it is important that we focus on the social part of social-emotional learning as well. They can’t figure out their tribe without access to a tribe.

Regarding Negative School Culture (which is a real thing so must be capitalized): To the teachers I see who get easily ~~pissed off~~ aggravated by the students they teach, and complain about their students, I want to tell them it’s not the kid’s fault they are behaving that way: it’s brain science, and it might be the teacher, too. Because if you don’t find them amusing, you need to get out! Get out now! Adolescents will not respond well to someone demanding they be compliant, or otherwise not respect the age and stage of development they are in. We need teachers who LOVE the age they teach. If they make you feel icky like I do when a kindergartner (when I’m allowed to be around such littles) asks me to go to the bathroom when I JUST ASKED YOU AND YOU SAID NO, then it’s not the kid, it’s you. Ok? You just haven’t found your kid-breed yet. Not everyone can be a chihuahua person.

If you know someone who is a cat person in a dog world, ask them about what they love, and once you get them talking about their passion, pay attention to which age they gravitate towards and gently nudge them into that as if hey, you said it’s your life’s dream: what are you waiting for? Or place subliminal messages all over the staff room of how rewarding that age they said is so maybe they’ll start really considering a change that will be best for everyone… because when you get to teach the age you love, it is magical.

Further reading on the sciencee stuff:

It’s overwhelming how many ideas there are being marketed out there. There are so many decisions to make. Planning my classroom management has always felt like getting dressed in the morning. Some years are like those mornings when I go through just about every outfit I own, and accessorize heavily, only to give up and go back to those go-to sensible black slacks and top I wore twice already in the last two weeks. My management system is just like that; I know it works, so I go back to it. Yes, I have had adventurous moments: I’ve tried Fred Jones’ Preferred Activity Time (PAT), Whole Brain Teaching (ready, OK!), and a myriad of points systems, but I always ended up back to something more like the sensible black slacks for my management system. It’s not flashy, but it gets the job done. Maybe slacks isn’t the right analogy? Call it the Spanx of my management wardrobe.

I seat students in heterogeneous groups of four; pairs face each other. They are numbered 1-4. Sometimes I name the groups. On my Google Keep to-try-someday list is to theme it up and have Harry Potter houses for groups or historical figures instead of numbering 1-4 (all the Harriet Tubmans, please stand up!) but I will also someday find a red lipstick color that works for all occasions. It just hasn’t happened yet.

While seats are ALWAYS assigned, every class period (oh that’s sweet, child, you want to know if I’m ready to let you choose your seats- you’re so cute! No.), I try to get students out of their seats to move around, whether that’s for poetry circle, or just moving all the 1s and 3s up one group to mix up the pairs. Sometimes I’ll randomly ask students to stand up and have a physical rock/paper/scissors competition or staring contest with a neighbor just for a brain break. It’s super fast, and super random, but it gets oxygen flowing back to their faces… I mean brains. I mean, nobody likes a Ferris Bueller situation, no matter how fun voodoo economics sound. And I don’t care how old your students are, kids who giggle together, learn together, too; it’s like a law in my room.

I tried group points, but I’m frankly just really bad at doing that consistently. I found building relationships and just talking with, not at, my students helps the room feel like we are both getting something out of being there together. I feel like a lot of classroom management strategies for the whole class end up being attempts to “control” the 5% of students that are outliers behaviorally anyway. They don’t need a whole class system. They need you. The best things that have worked for me with these students? Find their “in.”

We all have that one student that I shall name the Pencil Chipmunk who leaves little bits of pencil wood pieces behind while he (usually he) stocks up on angst for the winter of his discontent. You can resupply him daily for a month and still lose that battle as he subtly breaks pencil after pencil to see what will happen. At some point in his history, he’d decided that a worthwhile use of his time was to try to get the teacher to get to the “get off my lawn stage” of irritation. But these cuties are easy to spot, and require a bit of creativity.

For one such pencil-shredder, I triple dog dared him to remember his own pencil the next day, and if he did, I’d do the chicken dance. If not, he’d have to do it. Did he win? Yes. Yes he did. Did I dance with a big grin on my face thinking what is my life? Yes, but I also had fun with it and while he continued to have little issues, it never felt adversarial or purposeful. We had a working relationship, which is worth fighting for. “Don’t MAKE me challenge you to a chicken dance again” became the inside joke that meant knock it off, while letting him save face and me not lose my sense of humor. Once he realized I have a short memory, and don’t overreact to his personality quirks, he felt less judged and safer to maybe be able to grow a little more out of that box of an identity he felt pushed into. If I made it adversarial, the invitation to change over time would have been lost, and we would have been stuck in our roles of behavior problem and behavior enforcer. When you are upset at a 13 year old for not complying, you know you’ve lost your way. Find the “in” that allows you break free of that. The inside joke that allows for a little unclenching of the jaw that is needed in tense situations so you can both breath and not react too quickly. And just be ready for it to look different for everyone.

That’s the A.D.D. quality of teaching well for me. I know I’m teaching well when I don’t have a class anymore, I have individuals who all need me to be a little different at times. Luckily I read a lot, wear strong deodorant, and have pretty walls to stare at after particularly challenging days.

Teacheree

middle school teacheree things

The 8th Grade Brain

Classroom Management