My fifth period class blew up--again. Or, rather, they have been in a perpetual state of combustion since about day one. Hard to say what exactly went wrong today. As we debriefed the debacle after school, Laura and I came to the conclusion that we had changed too much up on them--a new seating arrangement (clusters instead of rows, thank god), and two new modes of interacting (reading aloud into the room and small group discussions at the new tables). It was too much for them. And the question we asked them to discuss (if you could make a school, what would you do all day?) was way over their heads. (Sammie wanted to have marshmallow walls and desk made of candy corns; Martin would have a school day composed entirely of video games; Norton simply wouldn't attend school and would sit around doing nothing all day.)
What is most frustrating is that we are trying so hard not to merely replicate for them what they have already experienced--control, control, control. But they cannot control themselves. And I do not mean merely "sit still and pay attention." That is not what I want. At this point I would settle merely for the spirit of cooperation. And I ask myself what that would look like in a sixth grader. For the ones having the hardest time it would look like...eye contact with me when I'm giving instructions. Eye contact with whoever is reading aloud or speaking at the time.
I have never encountered this kind of mass resistance to schooling. And of course I can't really blame them, given what I've seen them have to do in other classes--and in this class. The difference is that they don't really trust that we are--that I am--doing this for them; I think at the end of the day they have doubts--and they have reason to doubt--that their teachers give a damn about them.
I raised my voice at a student today. I told him to "back off." I needed to do it. I told him later that I was sorry I had to raise my voice at him, but he had crossed a line at a terrible moment. And I was forced to drop the hammer on him.
I don't know why, but all this thinking and musing and strategizing about this class reminds me of this odd interaction I had with a colleague at the photocopier this morning. Mrs C is one of the substitutes I saw on Friday; she asked the kids to copy definitions from the science textbook; and I think that later in the day she overheard me describing what I saw to Laura in the staff room at lunch. I think she heard me say: "I saw a lot of reading out of text books and following instructions" and though she didn't really enter into the conversation, I could tell she heard me and had some reaction to the observation I made.
So I saw her in the copy room. She was making copies. She asked me if I wanted to visit the class again. I said that I might at some point in the future, but that I was really just trying to get an anecdotal sense for what the kids had experienced before they got to my class. She made a somewhat defensive comment about not having access to the course materials yet, which is why they were reading out of the books in class. I told her I was just trying to understand why a few of my students had such a hard time with my class. Then I said: "School seems pretty hard for some of these kids."
"Were some of your kids home schooled?" she asked.
I didn't really understand her question. There was some deep disconnect in the conversation. "Not that I know of. It's just that...well...schooling, the business of schooling, is really quite hard for some of my students."
She looked at me a little bit sideways. "What do you teach?"
"I'm a student teacher."
"Special ed?"
"No. Just a teacher. Of 6th and 7th graders."
And then the copier finished mechanically reproducing her handout, and she scampered off. I'm not sure the dialogue above captures the essential strangeness of our conversation. But it felt like we were two people who spoke the same language but couldn't really communicate with each other. I could speculate about why I thought she was confused; I have a theory, something to do with being brought up in a system that privileges crowds and the majority, that favors silence and obedience. But I'm doing my best not to put people into boxes.
One thing is becoming clear to me: there are way too many boxes in this place. And so many children doing everything they can to fit neatly inside them and to knock down the walls.
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