Top Three Things I Learned from One Awesome Workshop

Here is a list of the greatest hits from the RC workshop, as per my mom's request.
In no particular order:
1. Children understand instructions best when they are given in a simple, direct format.

For example, say, "Put the scissors down now," rather that, "Could you please put the scissors down?" Tricky, and we all do it, but don't ask a question unless you want an answer.

I was struck by the truth of this at the park the other day when I heard a daycare worker yell at a child on the playground, saying, "What do you think you're doing?" A common phrase, but it's meaningless to a 5-year-old. Perhaps, instead she could have said, "Please get down from the slide. What you are doing is not safe." I have been trying to watch my own language in this area, but this coming school year will put it to the test.

2. Logical consequences are the best way of correcting problem behaviors.

There are three main types of logical consequences. The first, reparations is what I like to call, "You break it, you bought it." Or more accurately, "You break it, you fix it." As in, you spilled it, you clean it up; you knocked it down, (even on purpose), you help put it back together; you crumpled up your homework paper, you write it over.

The second, removal of privilege, is just what it sounds like. "I see that you are not able to walk in line the way that we have talked about. For the rest of the day, you need to walk next to me." I like this one, because it says to kids, "I trust you to do the right thing unless you show me otherwise. If that happens, we will deal with it, but I don't expect us to have any problems." We expect kids to "earn" privileges, but what if we give them those privileges to begin with, and teach them to respect the privileges? I am interested to find out the answer to this question.

The final consequence is a positive time-out, either in the classroom or in another teacher's room. It gives the child a chance to "reset" and regain self-control. The best thing about that is when we watched a video and the teacher gave a personal example of a time when she might need a time-out from the class. I know exactly the kind of situation she is talking about. Plus, by giving that example, she shows the students that anyone can use a time-out.

I was reading the book Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott, and in it she quotes someone else, I don't know who, and says, "We are not punished for our sin, but by our sin." I believe that most children know when they have made an error, intentionally or accidentally, and the only "punishment" they need is a chance to make it right. Now if we could just get students to be rewarded by their successes rather than for their successes.

3. Students have needs, just like everyone else.

Okay, clearly I knew this, but it was so nice to have it reaffirmed. Even now, as I have been sitting here writing, I've gotten up to go to the bathroom, went to get a drink, and talked to my husband about a broken glass in the kitchen. I've been sitting here for 20 minutes. Why is it then, that we expect students to sit for 45 minutes without talking, playing or moving, as we administer a lesson? It is illogical, and, for the teacher and the kids, very frustrating.

Today my principal called me to ask about this year's school supply list. One new addition for me is a reusable water bottle. I am also hoping to have snack time in the morning, as well as a morning recess. Perhaps we'll even call it our "coffee break". I am still trying to figure out what to do about the bathroom, though, because the only bathrooms in the school are in the basement, and we are on the third floor. The previous principal required students to go as a whole class, which does not line up with my philosophy on that. So I will have to wait and see how that is resolved.

I know that's only three, they are big ones. I will post some more as they come to me.

Takin' the Long Way Round

It is hard to think about beginning again. Last year ended on a sour, and very bizarre note, so I know that it is for the best that I am compelled to move again. When I graduated from college, I never would have imagined that I would be working at my fourth school in four years. When I tell people that, I often find myself concluding with something along the lines of, "But it's not my fault, I swear!"

Fortunately, this past week allowed my to experience something wonderful that got me excited to begin again. I attended a training called Responsive Classroom. For those teachers out there reading this, you NEED to go. At first I was hesitant, because going meant giving up a whole week of time basking in the love of my darling, precious, totally crazy goddaughters, Brittney and Brianna. The prospect of leaving them in the care of their dad was not heartwarming, and I am sure that tomorrow will have to start with bathtime and the arduous process of doing their hair. Nonetheless, it was the right decision.

I suppose the best way to encapsulate Responsive Classroom is that it takes what good, interested teachers know are best practices, or at least recognizes as ideals, and distills it into a usable format. It focuses on making rules with students and helping them to follow those rules in a way that recognizes the students' and the teacher's shared humanity. Basically, it seems to be the best, most natural way to run a classroom.

The best thing about the workshop, though, was not the material. It was the time that I spent with my coworkers as we all got excited at the prospect of implementing RC in our own classrooms. I knew I was with the right people when, as we sat outside for lunch, I shared with the new fourth grade teacher at my school that I had taken the kids to a farm the year before. She immediately wanted to start planning a trip that we could go on together, possibly taking the kids overnight, which has been a dream of mine since I heard that such trips are available at the center we went to this year. We were so excited, talking back and forth, that we barely ate our sandwiches.

I had a game when I was little called "The Wizard of Oz". In it, you could decide if you wanted to take the long, safe way, or the short treacherous one. The short one was riddled with hazards that could send you back to start, but if you made it through, you would be ahead of the other players. I don't remember which way I usually chose, but there were no life lessons in that game anyway. Just because you take the long way doesn't mean it's any easier. But then again, who am I trying to get ahead of, anyway?