Sophomoric humble pie anyone

Scene: Fluorescent-lit classroom – tables in the center of the room with distraught students scattered around. One sad plant on the windowsill. Incomplete homework littering the tables. Vivid thoughts of everything but English running through each child’s head.

Student 1: But why do we have to do points? It’s so stupid. Real life doesn’t have points – this
has nothing to do with real life.
Me (for the fifth time in two weeks): It’s how I do it. I use points. Daily. Ten of them. This is not a democracy, it is a
dictatorship.
Student 1: Oh, that’s fair. That’ll teach us to be independent.
Student 2: The other teachers don’t do that. You’re the only one. It’s so dumb.
Me: It’s not a discussion. It’s a system.
Student 1: No, I think we shouldn’t have points. It’s a pointless system.

Her wit was not lost on me. Touché. And: I hate you. No, not hate, but really really challenged to appreciate your insight now. Student 1 was together: a fluent reader, writing two years above grade level, a developed vocabulary and arsenal of literary criticism (as well as any variety of criticism). In executive function terms she had strong working memory, too-well honed response inhibition, the ability to sustain attention, meticulous organization, and alarming metacognitive strengths.

If only she was my TA.

Alas, she wasn’t. She was a tenth grade English student with strengths where nearly one hundred percent of her classmates had weaknesses. Our school is geared toward students with language-based learning disabilities and significant executive function weaknesses across many fields. She was enrolled due to severe anxiety. She struggled with emotional control, flexibility, and task initiation.

My areas of executive skill weakness are emotional control, flexibility, and task initiation. And yes, I did cut and paste those areas of weakness.

The student that challenged me most last year – not in skill development, or impulsive behavioral outbursts – but in that soul grating way that made me a little less happy to teach third period – was so similar to me. My TA at the time spoke about how our contempt was bred of familiarity. While contempt may be a strong word, we certainly did not jive. She saw my inflexibility as contextually inappropriate (which it was – I am a teacher – I am supposed to meet students where they’re at… and as a special ed teacher I should’ve risen to meet her needs as easily as I scale back to reach my struggling students). I saw her inflexibility as coddled teen angst.

I’m the first to admit: I have a bit of a messianic complex. I love swooping in and teaching unsuspecting fifteen year olds how to separate main ideas from details and then sequence the parts into an essay. I dig passing out a weekly homework schedule because I see its correlation to college syllabi. Most tasks required of me in my job play to my executive functioning skill strengths.

My students do not have that luxury. Students – despite working at a fairly ‘progressive’ school – are still required to be generalists and asked daily, hourly even, to live in realms of executive functioning weakness. Goal directed persistence was my strongest skill. I push students as though t hey were myself. Yet, as my confrontational tenth grade mini-me reminded me: goals are easy when they’re within your skill set. She challenged me and that was hard. That was uncomfortable. That was annoying.

For my students so much of what I ask of them must seem hard, uncomfortable, and annoying. I need to remember to greet those students that challenge me with gratitude… which is hard through gritted teeth. Sophomoric humble pie anyone?

Oakland... Brooklyn... Tomato...Tomato

Thoughts?

http://www.brooklynrail.org/2011/02/local/report-card-dubious-standards-for-charter-schools