So, I spent about 15 minutes of my prep ranting about my eighth graders on this blog.
Yes, I cried today.
I was at a complete loss. It was out of control. I got little to no response from hardly anyone in the class today except for sarcasm, sass, and sleepiness. I guess Tuesday's outburst wasn't as effective as I imagined it was.
And then, my prep ended, 6th period came in, and all of the confidence that had been drained from me began to refill within myself.
I can teach. I can. I had students throwing around parts of speech vocabulary, we had a great discussion about tone, and they were even coming up with their own examples of story-telling expression (they were presenting their personal narratives in groups today). It was great.
So I deleted my previous rant, wiped away any stray tears, and set off to get my 4th period back.
I've just got a period of eighth graders full of students dying for attention (for lots of different, heart-wrenching reasons), who can get it by doing the exact things that get under my skin. And they know it - I've been an open book and they're playing me like a fiddle. But, as I've reflected on my frustration, it seems to stem most out of my love and care for these students. I see fully capable students who could care less about getting anything out of my class. I see them stomping out the flames of their own potential, and it's frustrating to care more about them and fight more for them than they care or fight for themselves.
So, I'm creating a new seating chart. Again.
And I'm lining up a secret team of Student Starters. I spoke with one of my incredibly studious, attentive, and equally frustrated eighth graders and asked him how class was going. He definitely confirmed the class awareness of my frustration, but admitted that the class as a whole has lots of individuals who seem to slow the class down or bring it to a halt with their offhand comments.
I asked him what he thought I could do as a teacher to put a stop to this snowballing effect. He recognized that I had already made some changes and that it was somewhat working, but not completely. So I asked him if he'd be my team captain (this kid is a big kid, football player, and incredibly respectful), and if he'd have the courage to speak up in class when he sees that I'm waiting for students to follow instructions or give me their attention. He seemed to accept the idea though I told him that he could take the night to think about it. I told him I'd approach some other students privately so he wouldn't be taking on those students alone.
And, I'm going to stop caring so much. Not about the students but about my constant fight to work for them. If they can't handle a fun, energetic, lively classroom of discussion, we can try some powerpoint lectures and some class worksheets...
It kills me, but I'll give it a try tomorrow.
I'll keep you posted! :D
How do you achieve that balance between caring deeply about your students, but not getting worked up about them and their behavior?
Cali, part of what makes you a great teacher is your willingness to reflect and keep trying. That's also part of what makes you so frustrated with these little darlings when they act out. It's a paradox that can keep us going or drive us out of the profession.
ReplyDeleteOne thing I will say in regards to your question about balancing care and blood pressure: as hard as it is, you can't take it personally. These attacks, which feel so personal (in part because they are sometimes directed right at you) often have nothing to do with you personally. I know that seems a little counter-intuitive, but it's true. Most often student behavior is all about them. It's their feelings, their connections between what you say and another class, their learned helplessness that's challenged when you demand they work, their insecurities exposed when you don't even know it. What they say might sound personal, but it's about them.
I don't know if it helps, but this is what I have to remember when a student acts out or says something that feels like a direct attack. That doesn't mean I let them off the hook, but for some reason it does help me deal with them more rationally. If you want the academic theory on this, let me know:)