Last year, I taught English for a semester at a high school in an affluent suburb of San Diego. Having previously taught at a project based learning charter school, I was looking forward to stepping back from the pressure and stress of project planning and exhibitions, while also bringing a new bag of tricks back to a traditional classroom.. Morevover, I was encouraged by the school's principal, who brought a warm attitude and student-centered pedagogy to the staff and was enthusiastic about what this new teacher could bring to the school.
Walking into the classroom on the first day, I was greeted by an unwelcome sight: row upon row of desks, arms at the ready, all facing toward the front of the classroom. Where were the tables? How were the students supposed to move around, let alone collaborate? Seizing upon a quick solution, I marched my first period out into the courtyard, where I led some movement-based community building activities.. However, instead of opening up and engaging with each other, many students stood stock still with their hands in their pockets, complaining about having to stand outside. I was amazed! Here I was, breaking the mold of the first day, tossing aside the syllabus in favor of building a classroom community and the students were resisting.. It was like they didn't want to be there at all (which I later realized was the truth). Incredulous, I dismissed this result as just a group of tired students (it was first period after all) but as the day continued, the same result bore out.
I plowed ahead with this strategy, determined to use my arts integration toolkit to engage students in reading, writing, and empathisizing with each other.. We made tableaus, played Simon Says with vocabulary words, created silhouettes as a pre-reading strategy, and shared truths about ourselves. I won some converts, sure, but even after a week and a half, most students still preferred to sit at their desks and work independently. With an upcoming team meeting of English teachers, I was excited to share my experience with my colleauges and get ideas about how to tweek my practice. However, when we gathered together on Wedesday morning, I was grimly greeted with the task of designing test questions for a reading comphresion assessment. I was floored! Were these teachers not struggling, like I was, to engage their students in learning? Did they have burning questions about their teaching practice that they needed to address? Instead of seeking answers to these questions, I sat quietly for most of our two hour meeting, and returned to my classroom, sullen. Needless to say the rest of the semester was a struggle, and I was happy to find a new teaching engagement the following year.
So what did I learn? For one, I was humbled by my experience and keenly aware that I still have a lot to learn about what it means to be a classroom leader. I learned that good teahing does not exist in a vacuum, and that progressive educators are nutured by an environment that supports self reflection, collegial discourse, and experimentation. I saw many teachers at the school do what I could not, engage students in learning in the art, theater, and engineering, and I yearned for the opportunity to work with these teachers and connect reading and writing content with these disciplines. But my biggest takeaway was the effect that 10 years of traditional schools had on my students, their willingness to learn and their curiosity toward new subjects. They were docile and passive, content to complete mindless tasks as long as they were rewarded with time to socialize or use their phones when they were finished. They led activie lives outside of school, playing sports and participating in clubs, but they were almost entirely turned off to the idea that school could matter to them, that it was more than just a hurdle to be cleared, a step toward their next destination. As I mull over these observations, I feel challenged to create relevancy for my students and find opportunities for them to connect their lives to our work.
Walking into the classroom on the first day, I was greeted by an unwelcome sight: row upon row of desks, arms at the ready, all facing toward the front of the classroom. Where were the tables? How were the students supposed to move around, let alone collaborate? Seizing upon a quick solution, I marched my first period out into the courtyard, where I led some movement-based community building activities.. However, instead of opening up and engaging with each other, many students stood stock still with their hands in their pockets, complaining about having to stand outside. I was amazed! Here I was, breaking the mold of the first day, tossing aside the syllabus in favor of building a classroom community and the students were resisting.. It was like they didn't want to be there at all (which I later realized was the truth). Incredulous, I dismissed this result as just a group of tired students (it was first period after all) but as the day continued, the same result bore out.
I plowed ahead with this strategy, determined to use my arts integration toolkit to engage students in reading, writing, and empathisizing with each other.. We made tableaus, played Simon Says with vocabulary words, created silhouettes as a pre-reading strategy, and shared truths about ourselves. I won some converts, sure, but even after a week and a half, most students still preferred to sit at their desks and work independently. With an upcoming team meeting of English teachers, I was excited to share my experience with my colleauges and get ideas about how to tweek my practice. However, when we gathered together on Wedesday morning, I was grimly greeted with the task of designing test questions for a reading comphresion assessment. I was floored! Were these teachers not struggling, like I was, to engage their students in learning? Did they have burning questions about their teaching practice that they needed to address? Instead of seeking answers to these questions, I sat quietly for most of our two hour meeting, and returned to my classroom, sullen. Needless to say the rest of the semester was a struggle, and I was happy to find a new teaching engagement the following year.
So what did I learn? For one, I was humbled by my experience and keenly aware that I still have a lot to learn about what it means to be a classroom leader. I learned that good teahing does not exist in a vacuum, and that progressive educators are nutured by an environment that supports self reflection, collegial discourse, and experimentation. I saw many teachers at the school do what I could not, engage students in learning in the art, theater, and engineering, and I yearned for the opportunity to work with these teachers and connect reading and writing content with these disciplines. But my biggest takeaway was the effect that 10 years of traditional schools had on my students, their willingness to learn and their curiosity toward new subjects. They were docile and passive, content to complete mindless tasks as long as they were rewarded with time to socialize or use their phones when they were finished. They led activie lives outside of school, playing sports and participating in clubs, but they were almost entirely turned off to the idea that school could matter to them, that it was more than just a hurdle to be cleared, a step toward their next destination. As I mull over these observations, I feel challenged to create relevancy for my students and find opportunities for them to connect their lives to our work.