Category Archives: Relationships

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One Positive Way to Empower Students

 

CHAT TIME

Teachers have their own ideas for how to motivate students to learn. It is not uncommon to adjust and try new ideas every year. Classes of students have a personality, just like teachers have their own unique style and delivery. That is why an instructional program is bound to be different in its usage since teachers are individuals with their own strengths and talents. Uniformity only goes so far. I have had the experience in my career where scripted lessons and format did not allow for any deviation. Fidelity to the program was expected so that we could measure its effectiveness with our students.

Intervention programs often are designed in this way so that the academic concepts will be concrete and learned well. Then their academic progress can be monitored and charted. This is good, but challenging. A creative person such as I am, finds it difficult to rein in the copious ideas that formulate and beg for attention in the mind. A myriad of ways to teach a common instructional concept hover in the brain seeking entrance into the formative juices.

As a reading specialist with instructional programs driving the delivery, I had to let go of some of my “great” ideas that wanted to jump out. However, there are a few that I have been able sneak in and use to my advantage. One is my Monday morning Chat Time. The idea sort of just happened early in my career as a public school teacher. From that point on I would use it with every single group or classroom of students. It became one of the most well liked of student preferences.

The rules for Chat Time are simple. One person talks at a time. No one interrupts or asks questions. We simply listen. The teacher may ask questions to clarify. Everyone gets a turn. The option to pass is allowed. No negative or violent talk. No put-downs allowed. To begin Chat Time, I call on someone to chat right from the get-go after they sit down around the round table in my small reading room. From there we make a circuit around the room. As their teacher, I also share something.

Reading groups are only a few students so this works well. Students who “pass” on a consistent basis, I will ask an innocuous question to encourage them to talk. How was your weekend? Did you get to go anywhere? With larger classes I organize the Chat Time groups into a four week rotation. Through chatting and telling, the students and I learn a lot about each others worlds; family interests; the older brother in Germany in the military who would call his little brother; we learn who was at someone’s house for a birthday party; student’s first communions and baptisms; how their bedrooms are being decorated influenced by the latest teenage sensation; visits to Mexico; parents in job transitions; puppies and pets; grandma’s and grandpa’s coming to visit; new toys and video games, bounce houses; soccer and soft ball teams; tamales, molé, carne asada, the latest party and family gathering and much more.

Chat time is “sacred” in my room. It is never replaced. Students absent on Monday wish they had been there, they like it so much. The youngest students enjoy it as much as the older students. Chat Time’s success revolves around its ability to include all students without any form of exclusion. It gives students a voice. Opportunity to encourage language and oral expression come easily in this venue.

Most of all, Chat Time provides a powerful tool by validating and acknowledging the individual. Most schoolrooms are long on being quiet and short on times for talking. Students thrive on being noticed and feeling special. There are times when the chat time topic evolves into a rich discussion about world events or scientific discoveries. Historical events and geographical details are always of interest if we should stray down that trail.

I learn a lot about my students; their interests, fears, family dynamics, and joys. Some children will finish the conversation one-on-one with me after the others have left in the brief time before my next group will arrive. These are always the hard ones, comments like “I won’t be here tomorrow because we’re going to visit my dad in Susanville (where he is incarcerated)” or “Did you read the paper about my dad? We’re going to go after school to see him. Don’t tell anyone,” (a drug raid or other infraction including sexual assaults) and the most common, “My parents are getting a divorce, that’s why I’ve been so sad.”

It is my desire as a teacher to fan the flame in such a way that any child can learn. Students must know and believe that they are accepted and liked. Their understanding of their own worth and value is fundamental. Philosophy is important. When asked in interviews what my philosophy for teaching is, I always say the same answer. “I believe every child can learn. It is my job to help them do this.” It helps if the educational environment is safe and conducive to developing the whole child.

I remember my own fourth grade teacher. She noticed me and drew me out.  Miss Elliott made me work hard but she also noticed my strengths. Her personal comments made me feel good about myself. They were genuine. As a very shy child, this was rare. I was largely unnoticed by my teachers, one of those students who fall through the cracks and didn’t get the extra attention or privileges; I wasn’t on their radar. I still remember the words Miss Elliott spoke to me about my artwork (the large helicopter mural I drew for the Christmas program), my public speaking (a report on apricots with real life examples), and her delight with the homemade caramels I made for her birthday (from an old family recipe).
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This year I am not teaching. I miss hearing the students talk and getting to know them as people. I step on campus once in awhile. When I visit the school, the children run up to me to say hi. Happiness is on their faces. They tell me about what is happening at school or in their lives, chatting a mile a minute. I suppose their happiness in seeing me somewhat relates back to my interest in them. . . . and that’s a good thing!
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From A Quiet Grace by N. L. Brumbaugh

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A Cracked Heart and a Little Boy

It caught me by surprise, I wasn’t expecting it. The assignment was designed to be a fun activity. I was the reading specialist and it was Valentine’s Day. Six second graders sat at the round table in my remedial reading classroom. My instructions to the children were simple. “Inside the valentine write a few words to someone you love or care about. Use your best writing and say something nice. Then you can color the picture.”

We brainstormed some ideas and the children began. The students jotted “I Love You” and “You’re Nice” in the middle of a large blank heart being held by two sweet-faced pixies. Some children drew more hearts, flowers and people figures to make their picture extra pretty. All the children were extremely careful. They’re turning out nicely, I thought to myself, but then I stopped, startled.

One valentine heart was not happy like all the others. It was Mike’s*.

Mike had drawn a red squiggly line dividing the heart in two. There was a stick figure on each side of the dividing line. On the left side was a stick-figure boy with his arms reaching towards the center. On the other side was a stick-figure girl with her arms reaching towards the middle. The two figures stretched their arms towards each other trying to touch but the squiggly line was obstructing their efforts. They had sad faces and tears dripped from their eyes. “What’s this?” I gently asked as Mike finished.

It’s a cracked heart,” Mike paused a moment, “That’s me and my mom. I’m crying cuz I never get to see her.”

I knew his story, his emotional issues, and his intense longing to live with his mother. In his short life Mike had lived in several homes and attended numerous schools, and he was a victim of sexual assault by an older child and had viewed rank pornography with his abuser. His past experiences left their imprint. Mike’s birth mother had several children who lived with her even though he didn’t. He had not lived with her since he was an infant when he was removed from the home. Mike once told me that when he was a baby he had been thrown against a wall. His father wasn’t too present either, mainly called in when a punishment needed to be meted out. Mike was living with Grandma, but she was weary and didn’t know how to manage his behaviors. Mike’s curly, long black eyelashes, striking blue eyes, blond wavy hair, attractive, good looks didn’t seem to square with his unhappy life experiences.

It was obvious to me, Mike’s drawing was an expression of deep emotional pain; wounded, feeling unwanted, unloved, not belonging anywhere–a nothing. The cracked heart told his story more clearly than any words, if only I could be with my mother, everything would be okay and I’d be loved.

“Here, why don’t you make another one, a happy heart, for someone else who loves you, like Mrs. H****  (his teacher),” I said, trying to redirect his thoughts to something positive. I removed the first drawing and gave him a fresh copy.

“Nobody loves me,” he replied, his voice sounded dejected, his body language showed he believed his words.

“Sure they do,” I assured him, “I do,” but the words sounded flat even to me.

I wanted him to know that I care, that he matters and has value—for he does. We all do. But the truth in his picture was too raw. His next drawing was worse, of angry people, their eyes dripping blood, their faces mad. It was disturbing.

And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” I Corinthians 13:13.

The Good Book says, the greatest of these is love. Why not faith? It is a curious statement isn’t it? Why is love the greatest? For most of my adult life I have worked in church ministries with children and women. A common thread weaves through each area of service. It is this.  The words of the message must match the heart of the messenger. Those who preach love must live love. Scripture says we are nothing but a brassy, noisy gong if there is not a presence of love backing what we say. Why? Why is this important?

I think of Christ. He showed us by way of example what it is to love in the right way. He saw the heart of those who He rubbed shoulders with and then He addressed their physical and spiritual needs.

What was true then is still true today. Basic to all persons is the need to be wanted and the need to be loved. When felt-needs are not met, a person is left with an inner void, a great lack in their human spirit. Like Mike, we all have a sense of whether or not we are loved, truly loved.

As a reading specialist and educator and in my experiences as a church worker, I have found a central truth which holds true time and time again. When children and adults know you care, that you are on their side, that you want them to succeed, to “get it,” when they know you value and validate them, then they will trust you and are able to respond to you and have a desire to please you. Difficult people become less difficult. LOVE. It takes love. Love is necessary in the nitty-gritty of human relationships, and love transcends our many divisions as people.

Concerns like the homeless people in our communities and nation–the ones struggling with life–create in us an awareness that we have a responsibility to them, to love and care for them as individuals–for loving others is part of what we as Christians are supposed to do. Love is much more than belief, for love also has a verb tense. Love produces action. Again, why? Why is this important? It is for the following reason. People matter: You, me, the minister, entrepreneur, gangster, infirm, child, elderly, druggie, and the wounded, like Mike; all people matter.

Once we as a people grasp this concept and own it, we will act on the words of Christ, “Love one another as I have loved you.” “The greatest of these is love.” Love has the ability to cover human faults with grace.

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You may wonder what I did after Mike drew the cracked heart. I kept his drawing and then showed it to his teacher and also the principal. A meeting was already scheduled with his grandmother, his teacher, and a team of administrators and specialists. I was invited to attend. During the meeting, I shared the picture with his grandmother. She commented that it was a common occurrence, that Mike had drawn several similar pictures.

I’ve long since lost track of Mike. He moved out of the district. The odds are stacked against him. I find myself praying for him every so often. I know that his only hope, really, is for Jesus Christ to come into his life and give him a sense of value and belonging.

*name changed