19^th March 2012
In the University of Colorado Museum they have at least 223 terms and definitions in their glossary covering their exhibited textiles.  Most of them I have never heard of because I’m not in the textile game.  But I tell you one thing I learned at my advanced age, ‘warp and weft’ is a great physical metaphor for learning how to become a great teacher.
                                                                                                             
The ‘warp’ provides the vertical lines giving strength for the garment.  This is you.  Your personal qualities.  Your presence.  As well as adding more strength, the ‘weft’ is what provides the design of the garment.  There are numerous ways the weft is completed depending on the designer, with the simplest being an easy criss-cross pattern.                                                                                                         

This is the best bit.  This is where you, as the designer of your own teaching destiny, have control.  This is where you choose to be work-shy, good or great.  You can choose to be an English teacher or a teacher who happens to specialise in English.  You can choose to learn the many skills of managing behaviour and building relationships or not.  You see, simply knowing the skills just isn’t enough.  You have to practise them, drill them into your everyday actions so that they become as easy to do as breathing.  You then carry them out without effort or conscious thought.  Teaching is not an easy profession, but it is simple, providing you work hard to learn the trade and that takes a few years.  My Year 7 PSHCE group have been a constant reminder to me about that fact.                                                                                                                  

The sun is streaming through the windows and I am looking forward to this lesson.  I have a visitor; Aisha.  She’s a trainee and she wants to see if I can practise what I preach.  I feel like a performing seal.  Fun times.  We are in the latter stages of ‘norming’ with occasional flashes of ‘performing’ as a group.  My willingness to trust students to sit where they choose causes me angst at times, but it’s worth it.  I will keep on trusting them until they badly let me down.  They are still only 11 or 12 years old and I remind myself of that every week.                                                                                               

No need for a getting attention routine.  Standing in the same position does the job now.  I have taught them how to treat me in that context and my earlier efforts were worth it.  “OK. Let’s make a start.”  Now they quieten inside 10 seconds and I am making eye contact like crazy across their young faces.  I hear a pen tapping to my left and without looking I put my left arm out straight with fingers wide and pointing to the ceiling.  The sight of my flat hand does the trick.  Weft.                             

I introduce the ‘progress sheet’; a nifty little idea to help me and them show progress should Mr or Mrs OfSTED appear without notice.  We are still being positive active citizens and I introduce the next activity which will need to be completed alone and in silence.  Alone – Silence.  Now that’s a strange concept for some of them.                                                                                                                                

“As you complete this activity you need to work alone and in silence.  As I stand completely still I turn my head only and scan the room repeating slowly, “Alone … and … in silence.”  Some glazed glances come back to me; we’ll see.  “OK. You have six minutes, start now.”  Always leave the action verb until last.  A fine detail, but necessary for some.  I’m still, standing still.  Transition time.  Scanning.  Heads begin to lower.  Some eyes look furtively at me and back to their desk.  Me, desk, me, desk.  Those concerned know I am watching them and their lips are preparing to open.  Monitoring over, I move to help someone who’s stuck.  More weft.                                                                                                                                          

I haven’t moved more than 2 steps and I hear a mutter.  Without looking up or at anyone, I state, “That’s strange. I said this section was to be completed alone and in silence.  We’ll discuss later.”  I don’t want to home in on anyone first of all, just a general reminder. Scattergun.  Heads down.  Some just can’t help themselves though.  They’re too young to keep themselves in check.                   

Two heads face each other, attracting another’s attention.  Their whispering sounds like heavy rain in the silence.  “S … have you finished already?” I ask, surprised. I could have chosen either one.  Exocet.  Weft.                                                                                                                                                            

“Yes Sir.”                                                                                                                                                                              “Bring it here then so I can have a look.”  He looks confident.                                                                     
“That’s good as far as it goes S, now I need you to think more deeply.  Give me your opinions.  You can’t go wrong with your own opinions.”   Using his book, I point back to his seat, smile appreciatively for him to go back and carry on.  He understands. He knows I know.  As importantly, his friends know I know.  I’m always trying to refer to the learning instead of inappropriate behaviour.  Can’t go wrong.  Well-designed weft.                                                                                          

They are working in pairs or 3’s. I’m walking round.  Smiling when I hear profitable discussion, slowly rocking my head from side to side and sucking in air when I think they are nearly there.  These small nearly private conversations between pairs and 3’s are giving them all the chance to make a contribution, to make progress in the smallest of ways.  Until I reach a group of 3 who don’t.  Their choice and I’m not upset.  I understand it, but don’t accept it.  I refuse to make a scene and interrupt the others.  That would be easy.  I need a simple yet elegant weft; a Tweed or maybe a gabardine.
                                                                                                                                                                                        
I choose the middle student.  “Can I have a look?” I say as I place my hand towards his book.  He nods. “Thank you.”  I already know what I will see up close as I saw it from afar.  “Not enough.” I say in a volume just above a whisper as I shake my head slowly.  “Not enough.” I repeat as the words slide across all 3 of their faces.  My disappointed expression, lips together then slightly pouting, hits them like a sledgehammer. I walk away.  They need time to take up my covert request for more and better.  They understand.  
                                                                                                                                         
I was wrong.  One didn’t understand.  As I return a few minutes later, he has not put pen to paper.  “R .. I want you take your books and bag and sit at my desk at the front there.  I motion with a bent arm and palm up.  He hasn’t harmed anyone.                                                                                                            

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” he says indignantly.                                                                   
“That maybe so R.  Just take your belongings to the front and I’ll come and help you in a moment.”  Wonderfully simple weft.  He moves slowly, dragging his bag along the floor and it gets caught up in a chair leg.                                                                                                                                                                          

 “Move man!” The unconcerned student sitting on the chair releases the bag, refusing to make eye contact or be intimidated.  I am right there, but watch only with peripheral vision.  I am not interested in this behaviour, only for him to reach his new destination and start learning. A calico-style weft, perfect for the job and unseen by anyone outside the teaching profession.  I hope Aisha saw it.  He reaches his new chair and drops his books on the floor.  Not interested.  He doesn’t begin.  Not interested.  He can own his behaviour because I don’t and the others deserve my time.  They get it for the next 10 minutes until I make my way to him.                                                                            

“What number are you on R?”  He refuses to look.  “Let me see your book, please.”  He picks it up off the floor and holds it towards me. “So what’s your opinion about crime in our community?”  He shrugs his shoulders.  “Well, I’ll come back in a minute or two and see what you think.”  I walk away and monitor him from afar, like an experienced Maitre D’.  He takes his pen out of his pocket and places it by the paper.             

I finish the lesson, saying goodbye to all but R.  Aisha is watching what I do now.    
                                                                                                                                   
“What did I do wrong?” he enquires without me saying anything.                                                          
“I wanted you to have the space and time to get on with the task R.  You have nearly finished now.  Thank you.  See you next week.”  He’s a bit perplexed as I haven’t got upset.  My final silky weft, helping produce a silky student.  Just give me another 12 hours and I’ll be able to put him on the catwalk.

12^th March 2012

You may have read this book:  Crows: Encounters with the Wise Guys of the Avian World (October 2005), by Candace Savage.  She explores the suggestion that crows and their close relations share with humans several aspects of higher intelligence, including the use of tools and sophisticated social behaviour.  If you are a fan of YouTube will probably know about this too, as you may have seen the remarkable clips of crows making a hook out of a piece of wire to pull a small pot out of a tube to access the hidden food.  You’d think it was made up if you weren’t seeing it with your own eyes.  Watching this video got me thinking: Solving problems is an activity humans, (and crows apparently), love to participate in.  It breeds a sense of satisfaction. It helps people get into the state of ‘flow’.  It seems as though time has flown when we are engaged in an autonomous activity that has a purpose.

                As you know, my Year 7 group have been learning about citizenship.  So, with the crows in mind, I am going to set the group a problem: to create their own set of rules for their own community when they are stranded on a desert island.  Working in 3’s I will be asking them to think about their emotions before and after the activity when working in the group, to help them understand what it feels like to be an active citizen. 

As usual, I am influencing their behaviours as they try to solve the old age problem of how you get people to work together for the common good instead of ‘what’s in it for me?’.  As we are in the ‘norming’ stage of group development, it’s a relationship-building exercise which will hopefully have some heated debate along the way and bring us all closer together.  Will they be little crows finding the hidden pot of food or will they be vultures feeding off the scraps of each other?  Let’s see.

It’s a beautiful day in Room 304 and I have an interesting lesson planned around group work which I am going to have to manage.  I shall be using simple reminders, quick direct commands and lots of non-verbal behaviours to keep the pace appropriate to the tasks.  As I sit here thinking of my plan of attack, the first students arrive.  I have a new face appear as he is new to the group.  His friend is K and they both decide to sit at the front; it will be interesting to see how K behaves today.  The monitors give the exercise books out and they are checking the comments I have made as I pop round and give them a reminder of their levels and targets on little slips of paper. 

                “Is this a merit Sir?”

                “Yes T, because it says ‘merit’,” I smile approvingly and open my eyes wide.  She deserved it.

                “OK.  Today we are going to work in groups of 3 and on the sheet on your desk, you will see a range of words that describe your emotions.  I want you to choose 5 that describe how you feel right now, just before you begin working as a group.  Write them down in the right hand column.”

                I stand very still and scan the room letting them know I am watching.  We are 6 months into the year and I still practise ‘transition time’.  Never fails.  We move on.

                “Your group has to come up with at least 10 rules for the 50 people that are stranded on your island.  You are working with them to devise the rules.”

                “Can you do more than 10 rules?”

                “Yes.  At least 10.”  (I resist the urge to say, ‘didn’t you listen?’)  First we shall watch this short video.  I show it.  I walk to the back of the room.  Raucous laughter from A, as he moves backwards onto 2 legs of his chair.  Enough.  “A … stand outside for me please.”  The rest of us finish watching. 

“There are some clues.  I will give you more clues every minute to help you.  Away you go.”  Transition time.  Lovely.  All on task.  Now for A.  I stand half in and half out the room.

“A … when you laugh out loud in that way, I feel irritated as it’s very distracting for everyone and unnecessary.  What I’d prefer you to do is respect everyone else in the room and be less extreme in your responses.  When you do that A, you and I will get on just fine.  Is that fair enough?

“Yes Sir.”  He looks suitably admonished and my deadpan delivery with slightly pursed lips and widened eyes, give him further clues.

“OK. Back inside and work with your group.”  This is his second time and I feel a call to his parents coming on.  He’s not being a crow, he’s not assessing the situation and he’s not learning quickly enough for me.  So he gets no food.

The groups are deep in conversation.  Except one.  U is sitting with his legs turned away from his two compatriots.  He’s not communicating with them and a sneaky look at his emotions sheet tells me he feels ‘uneasy’ talking to two others he wouldn’t normally associate with.  I join them.

“Tell me what you have so far then.”  I listen.

“Well, everyone needs to share,”

“Yes they do.  I like that one.  What have the 3 of you shared so far?”  He doesn’t read between the lines and just looks at me instead of them.  So the 3 of you need share your ideas for the rules.  I look at all 3 in turn, smile and walk away to give a little ‘take-up’ time. Their discussion ensues, crow-like.

My friend A, who I removed earlier still hasn’t learned and is talking to his friend in the group next to his.  He sees me looking at him.  “That’s your group A.”  Wide eyes, cocked head, pointed lips and directional pointy finger from me.  He senses my irritation and talks to his own group.  I look away to give him breathing space.

I give them a further clue on the powerpoint.  Crime. Mutterings of aaaah!

Another clue. Pollution and recycling.  More chat.

Another. Democracy and voting.  Chat.

The girl group of 3 is directly in front of me with some interesting yet dubious rules. 

“You can’t say that J!!”  I gasp in mock horror with mouth like an ‘O’.  “If they steal food you will chop off their legs!!?”  More gasping.  The surrounding groups look up.  Laughter ensues and opinions fly.  “That’s a bit harsh for just stealing food!  Justify that!

“They shouldn’t steal from everyone should they?  If their legs get chopped off then they won’t be able to get to the food.”  She looks at me for approval and her eyes and mouth are smiling.

“OK!  Your rules!” I acquiesce and walk away.

The rules are being made thick and fast.  Time’s running out.

“OK. Pens down, looking this way and listening to me.  Now take out your ‘emotions’ sheet again.  Choose 5 words that describe how you feel now about working in your group.  If you feel differently, choose different words.  Some may be the same.  Some may not.” 

As the satisfying silence descends, I remember back to the first lesson back in September when I had to teach them how to treat me.  They are nearly there.  Just a few of them to knock into shape with some very light taps.  They are becoming better active citizens as each week passes. 

Not one vulture amongst them.  Just 26 crows assessing me, the room, their friends and the context in which they find themselves.  They need a safe place to learn and I am providing that.  Because they feel safe, they are growing and feeling confident enough to express themselves.

They are bending the piece of wire, pulling the pot out of the tube and eating the food.

27th February 2012

I think it was Henry Ford, the motor-maker, who said something like, “If I’d have given the people what they wanted, I would have built a faster horse.”  You get the idea.  Sometimes people, including me, just don’t know what’s good for us do we?  Whether it’s a new invention or re-living the past, we can easily shun something that is good for us, because it’s easier to do what we like.  And so it is with students at school.  

                Educational theories and theorists come and go in a circle and one of the latest re-inventions can be open to mis-interpretation: Student Voice.  Now I am all for students having their say and contributing to their own education.  However, sometimes it’s easy to forget that sometimes teacher knows best. Sometimes it’s easier to ‘facilitate’; sometimes, like Henry Ford, the teacher’s way of doing things is better than what the students want us to do.  They need more than just what they want.  We have to give them what they need; not ‘edutainment’, not wall-to-wall excitement; not simply a faster horse.

For me, now 54, my worry is that we throw the baby out with the bathwater.  The standard still remains that we are in charge and we need to help students understand how to become autonomous and masters of their own destiny in short manageable steps.  Let the rope out slowly like any quality abseiling coach.  Facilitating and carrying out ‘assessment’ activities for the sake of it, isn’t the way.  Reading to them or letting them read only for 5 minutes, just in case they get bored, isn’t the way.

Teaching and supporting them through quality activities will lead them to the higher moral purpose; to love education and learning for its own sake.  That might sound a bit cheesy, but they need to love your subject even when you’re not there anymore.  And that’s why today’s lesson with Year 7 is going to be so good.  Citizenship in action; learning about citizenship whilst being a good citizen; completing a task that’s going to take some good old BLP perseverance; me showing them that they need more than a faster horse.

It’s warm, a warm February day and the heating is still up too many notches.  Both Room 304 and I are hot.  It must just be me because the students seem cool and calm as they enter the room.  We are at a good point in our relationship and I rarely have to get anywhere near the ‘death-stare’ of the early days, but it’s lingering there if I need to unleash the beast within.  I still let them sit where they wish and only move anyone if they let me down.

“Today we are going to practise the skill of perseverance.”

“What’s that sir?” I was waiting for that.

“Well … lots of adults complain about young people like yourselves today, saying that you can’t concentrate for more than 5 minutes.  I know you can prove them wrong today.  Perseverance is all about carrying on with what you’re doing even though you might hit an obstacle or find things difficult.  You keep on persevering until you finish.  It’s kind of like all those people who run the London Marathon each year.

“My Mom did the marathon,” G says, with a big proud smile, “but she said never again!” 

“Yes!  Just like that, she persevered and finished.  I bet she felt good?”

“Are you kidding Sir, she never got out of bed for 2 days!”  Riotous laughter.  G is funny. The laughter dies down.

“OK.  Here’s how we are going to persevere today.  I am going to show you 7 sets of images about aspects of citizenship and you have to answer these 5 questions about each set.”  I show them the questions on Powerpoint 1, which include questions about their opinions.  “Our objective is to gather information about each set of images so for homework you can write an article for the school magazine.”

“A real article?” M asks.

“Yes a real article, but it has to be worthy of publishing.  That’s why you need to persevere with this.  I am giving you 4 minutes for each set of images.  At the end of each 4 minutes we move onto the next set.  You need to work quickly.  Have I made that clear?”

I sit down and will stay here until this 30 minutes is up.  I am determined not to move.  I put up the first set of images and the questions and chatter begins.  It’s purposeful chatter though and every minute I remind them of the time left.  They are concentrating on the job in hand.  Scribbling fast.  Chat. Scribble. Chat. Scribble. 

“Time’s up! Next set of images.”  There’s no turning back.  No giving in.

“Sir!!” 

“4 minutes left for image set 2.”  Plod on. Less chatter with more scribble.  More staring at the images and the questions.

“Sir, this is hard.”

“Yes. Persevere. Keep going.”  More silence.  Less chat.  More scribble.  I like it.

We are now at the 5^th set of images and A is beginning to get restless.  He turns around and interrupts K.

                “A … have you finished?”  I say softly and I look at the back of his head.  He’s a clever boy as over the weeks he’s worked out why I say that.  His chair legs return to the floor and he carries on without eye contact. 

                “Set 7, the last set,” I announce and they breathe a sigh of relief.  “4 minutes left.”

Silent scribble.  “Last 3 minutes to gather information for your article.” Think of your writing in the glossy magazine and your parents proudly reading it.”  I feel like a fitness instructor putting his class through a gruelling spinning class.

                “OK.  Pens down and relax!  You’ve worked hard and persevered at that and the pay-off is that your homework is going to be easy now!  Planners out please and write this down.  They write reluctantly. “You can be proud of how you persevered with that exercise.  It wasn’t easy, but you did it.” 

Not everyone though. 

As I walk around watching homework go into planners I look at K’s book.  I see the first set of images have been commented upon but no more; 6 set of comments missing.  “Hello K.  Show me your comments from the last 6 sets of images.”  I hope they are over the page, but I fear not.  He looks at me blankly.  I wait.  I wait in hope.  I wait in the hope he can perform magic.  I look into his eyes but nothing comes out of his mouth.  Not a murmur. “Have you done it K?”  Nothing.  “K?”  Nothing.  I don’t want to spoil the atmosphere so I say nothing and walk away; for now.                                                             As the lesson ends I make my move.  As I release them all name by name, I leave K ‘til last and as he stands behind his chair I say, “K, how are you going to do your homework without your notes on the images.”
            “I don’t know Sir.” He looks hapless. My objective is for him to do his homework, not find the spurious reason for him not doing it. 

“Well, tomorrow come and see me and I will give you the sheets to help you.”     
“Yes Sir.”  I’ll get to the reason at a later date.  It’s not important right now.

What is important is he needs to know that he didn’t persevere.  Didn’t plough on when things got tough.  Didn’t soldier on when things were difficult.  That’s what the chat will be about when he’s completed his homework.                                                                                                                                                       This young citizen is not going to get molly-coddled by me.  He needs more than just what he wants. He needs more than a faster horse.

6^th February 2012

Do you know how many Hula Hoop savoury snacks you have to stack on top of one another for them to be as tall as Big Ben?  No?  Well …  it’s 7408.  I think the only way you’re going to know this is if you eat Hula Hoops, because on the back of every pack they have an interesting fact about them.  A good marketing ploy, that also serves as a useful reminder about teaching. 

                Part of the philosophy outlined way back on 17^th October 2011, (is it February already?), was about building a framework for students to work within.  Now Rome wasn’t built in a day and any builder will tell you that quality materials, quality builder, equals quality job.  Quality, day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year.  Simple, but not easy.  One Hula Hoop at a time, perfectly balanced on top of the last one until there you have them all standing proudly next to Big Ben.

                Now, substitute Hula Hoops for ‘minutes spent’ with a class of students.  7408 minutes or 3.16 hours per week of class time you spend with your group each year, educating someone else’s children. Every minute is another chance to build relationships. Every minute spent is another chance to build the framework for them to work within.  Every minute is another chance to teach them how to treat you.

                A reminder of the philosophy:

                                Attend to my own skills, knowledge and understanding

                                Get into the students’ world

                                Build relationships

                                Construct a framework for them to work within

                                Concentrate on learning not behaviour

                                Teach them how to treat me

Like any human being, sometimes we get it right, sometimes we get it wrong, but most of the time we do get it right.

In today’s lesson I hope to get more right than wrong and as it’s the last lesson before half term, I want to leave them with a happy reminder of me as the person they can enjoy lessons with, but the person they don’t mess with!  It’s assessment time, so part of the lesson will be mopping up work not finished from last week and part of it allowing the students to assess themselves.  I wish OfSTED was in because it’s a perfect opportunity to show them that progress is being made.

It’s freezing outside, it’s a hot room and the new boilers are working too well.  I am sweltering and the heat is irritating the students.  They enter looking flushed and tired.  I have work to do.  “Come in and sit down quietly please.”  I beckon them in with an open palm and a cheery smile as I sit opening up the electronic register and the necessary powerpoint.  I do it quickly as I want to give out their assessment sheets which they began the first week in January.  I say their name as I give them their sheet; I want them to remember that I know all of their names and have done since that first day back in September.  I sense that they like that.  Just a hunch I have from their demeanour.  A Hula Hoop.

As I finish my sheet-giving tour, I don’t mind the low-level chatter, but as I reach my teaching spot up front, I straighten up and begin scanning the room.  Pavlov and Skinner would still be proud of me as the chatter quickly dissipates.  I explain the assessment process again.

“Have I made that clear?”  Silent nods and staring eyes look back at me as I exaggerate listening by turning my right ear towards them all.  “OK … away you go.”  I stand still using that wonderful point of control, transition time.  A … decides not to start his assessment but continues to talk even though I am looking at him intermittently as the 30 seconds pass.  He engages 2 other boys in his conversation who are also now ignoring me.  Transition time over, he is first on my list.

“A … have you finished?”  I start with a reference to the learning not the behaviour.

“No Sir,” he replies and finishes his little chat as though I shouldn’t be interrupting him.  I think he might start now, but no.  He is either taking my question psychologically literally or he understands the inference and chooses to ignore it.  Time to turn up the heat above simmer.

“A … I asked you if you had finished.”

“No Sir.”  Again he turns to finish his chat.  I choose to think he has gone down the literal route and blame myself, but I now choose to remove him from the room and make a slight interruption to others.  Others have seen his actions and maybe think he’s being deliberately defiant.  Don’t want that do I?  Another Hula Hoop.

“A … go and stand outside for me please.”  I am not smiling. I motion my head to the door.  He walks in an exaggerated fashion, but I’m not responding to that or get into an extended disagreement.  I am Senior Vice Principal, but my experience tells me to use the school systems and not go it alone.  The room goes silent. “OK we have 12 minutes to finish our assessments.  I deliberately use the word ‘our’.  5 minutes later, I walk to A, who is now standing by the door entrance and I have already decided to not use the normal ‘language frame’.  He needs to know how unhappy I feel now and he’s overstepped the mark.

As he looks to the floor, I stand by his side so my words don’t hit him full in the face.  “Don’t ever, ever, ignore me again A.  When I ask you if you have finished … when you clearly haven’t … I expect you to take my polite hint and get back to your assessment.  Is that fair enough?”  I fly by the seat of my experienced pants this time, as I lower my voice and slow the tempo.

“Yes Sir.”  A very significant Hula Hoop.  As he walks inside, eyes gaze at him and I can see him smiling even though I’m behind him.  It’s only youthful posturing and a ‘secondary’ behaviour as Bill Rogers puts it; I don’t respond.  Back to learning.

The rest of the students are beavering away at the tasks and I’m providing countdowns to increase the urgency.  Only M is continuing to display inappropriate behaviours.  He knows the incessant pen-tapping is irritating to others and he knows I know he’s doing it.  I let him do it 3 times and then say, “M ….”  I look at him, screw up my face in mock pain, showing my considerable wrinkles and show him my left palm which I slowly move up and down.  He looks at me and stops.  Another lovely Hula Hoop.

Today’s lesson is a reminder to me.  I am sitting here ‘facilitating’.  I have prepared well, managed the students well and I feel good.  I like the way I always try to stay within the boundaries of the philosophy, which ultimately drives my behaviours.  In a few more weeks we’ll be in the ‘performing’ stage of group development.  That will be around 20 hours of contact and consistent application of a teacher’s knowledge, skills and understanding.  I’ve entered into their youthful world and built relationships. Most know how to treat me, and me them.  The framework I have been building since September is nearly finished.  I have concentrated on learning and not behaviours.  This school isn’t a behavioural correction facility, it’s a learning institution. 

As I’ve said before, teachers are relationship-building-state-changers and it always helps if they like Hula Hoops.

23rd January 2012
 
I know ‘The One Show’ on BBC at 7 in the evening isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.  It does, however, have some interesting little articles that make me think and teaches me things I never knew.  For example, last week, the resident ‘animal man’ taught me about the Swift.  Unbelievably, the Swift flies non-stop for 2 years after it first leaves the nest.  What was more interesting though was how it began exercising itself in preparation for the 2 year marathon.  The sight of a bird engaging in press-ups and Pilates in a one-foot-square space, was a sight to behold.  And so it is with teaching.

              Preparing lessons for students is not easy; simple but not easy.  It’s a very personal thing.  Thoughts about materials are different.  Thoughts about progression are different.  Thoughts about differentiation are different.  That’s the way it should be, because as the old saying goes, it takes a whole village to bring up a child.  My preparation is based upon these 3 questions I ask myself after the lesson has finished.

1.       Did they enjoy it?

2.       Did I enjoy it?

3.       Did they learn anything?

A simple idea which if applied properly helps build relationships.  So when I’m looking to build an enjoyable lesson, I am looking for variety and ways to switch the light bulb on for them.  That takes preparation, experience and time.  Having materials and lesson plans provided for me by the HoD is a start, but the ideas aren’t mine so I have been adapting them as the weeks pass.  This week the theme is friendship.  The learning diet will include:

·         In table groups, discuss which 3 friends they would love to have in this classroom.

·         Which celebrity will they choose out of the 6 that I provide for them? 

·         Which 5 words best describe the qualities their friends MUST have?

·         Write a ‘Friend Required’ advert for the local newspaper.

·         Draw your ‘Super-Friend’ that has every quality you require.

As they make their choices I will be delving deeper into student personalities; teasing out their psychological reasoning.  Some students might be upset not to be chosen by their ‘friends’. BLP in action. Talking about their reasoning will cement learning.  Another small contribution to their daily preparation for flight after their 975 day secondary school career.

               

                It is now 2.15pm and I am waiting outside Room 304.  I love the new location.  It lifts my spirits. I remind myself that any new school building would need serious design thought. ‘Miss’ is kindly finishing on time so I can open the PC before Year 7 arrives in dribs and drabs.  As I stand here, it’s a little warm and we could do with some fresh air, but we’ll soldier on.  I place the starter activity on the desks.  It will be hard as they won’t know the older celebrities, but I want them to concentrate on the theme for today which is ‘Friendship’. I stand in my teaching spot and greet them all.

                “Hello Sir!  You weren’t here last week.” (She really wanted to ask ‘why’ I think)

                I nod my head a little and smile in agreement.

                “Good afternoon, sit down and get out your planners please.  Thanks.”  It’s a lovely start to the lesson; no noise and lots of smiles.  I don’t have to get attention.  It just falls into my lap as I stand there, making eye contact around the room. “Now, on your desk you will …”  V starts to talk to his friend so I stop immediately and look at him.

                “I wasn’t talking.”  He knows by now why I stop.

                I look at him, open my eyes wider and cock my head ever so slightly; it’s no big deal, but I want absolute silence when I am talking.  I am about to look away and he repeats himself, but this time indignantly, as though I’ve hit him with a baseball bat.

                “I don’t want to remove you V, but just stand outside for me V,” I state quietly, yet firmly.  He stands unhappily and receives knowing, baiting, leering stares from his friends as he walks.

                I carry on where I left off as though it never happened and with the same tone of voice.  It’s not their fault he was out of order and they deserve me at my best.  “Now, on your desk you will see 6 celebrities and their biographies.”  After explaining the quick task, I set them off and stand rock-solid still, use transition time to ensure they settle quickly into a task that they need to complete in silence as it’s about their opinion.  As a few individuals begin to chat, I remain silent and use eye contact to re-direct.  After a few minutes a couple of individuals re-offend.

                “K … it’s a personal thing …” I say quietly, make eye contact again, cock my head and open my right palm at a 45 degree angle, pointing it towards her desk.  That works. It’s my subtle non-verbal behaviours that strongly influence them to acquiesce.

                This is a great lesson because it’s forcing diverging opinions to the fore.  Only one person says that he would like Stephen Hawking to be his friend

                “Why would you like him as a friend?” I ask, as though puzzled.

                “Well he’s clever and I could –“ 

I hear a person interrupt my thoughtful question-answerer.  I look at the offender and calmly say, “I can’t hear K because you’re talking over him and that’s rude.”  My lack of smile and staring eyes tells him I am upset by his actions.

“Sorry Sir.”

The learning is more important, as is K.  “Right K … carry on.”

“He’s clever and I could learn loads from him.” K is enthusiastic.

“That’s a good answer.  I am going to give you all 15 seconds to think of a reason why you wouldn’t want Stephen Hawking as your friend.”  Eyes begin to wander as they search inwardly for a reason that won’t give the game away.  “OK … anyone like to go first?”  The silence is deafening.

“I would be frightened Sir.”

“That’s interesting.  Why?”

“Because I would be embarrassed if I couldn’t understand him.”

K had to jump in, “He’s only physically disabled, not mentally!”  He seemed surprised and disgusted at the same time.

“A good point K.  I guess a lot of you thought the same thing?  A rhetorical question answered by nods.

                It’s a little further into the lesson and I introduce the other learning activities.  It’s a list of varied things to do that commit them all to making decisions about the type of friends they have or seek to have.  They need ‘reasons why’. 

One minute in and M decides to carry on talking and it’s interrupting his learning.  “M … bring your books and belongings up to this desk for now.”  I say this in a tone that expects compliance and immediately I crouch down to look at another student’s book directly in front of me.  I am doing this to give M some breathing space and not get into a confrontation situation which would interrupt the group.  If I don’t overtly look at him I can’t get the slightest bit bothered by his pouting and posturing – A win-win-win.  As he gets nearer to his new seat I stand again and move the seat back so he can slide in easily.  As he is right-handed, I move the left-hander he’s going to sit next to, over one seat.  “Come on now M … lots to do,” I say and walk away.

In this one event, there are 13 things that have helped me manage a potentially disruptive situation.  Preparation.

Over the years, the skills I have learned, practised and drilled into myself all pop out at the right time.  Without the motivation to learn new skills, prepare myself meticulously and practise, practise, practise, these moments would never happen.  Just like that Swift I told you about.  Without his long preparation for flight, he would certainly have dive-bombed to the ground wondering where it all went wrong. 

Feel familiar to you?