14^th November 2011

Learning is a bit like upgrading your phone.  I am reading an article about the new Samsung Wave and how it’s better than the previous one and also better than the iPhone.  Not that I am a phone freak or anything, it’s just that learning how to use an upgraded version is always easier than learning about a new one from scratch.  And so it is with teaching Year 7 about drugs.  Some know a little, some know a lot and some know absolutely nothing; not a thing.  Here are 2 questions they asked about drugs:  “What is the baddest thing that can happen?” “Can bad drugs turn into good drugs?” So teaching them, when they all have such a wide variety of knowledge, is something of a challenge. 

Well, I think it is. The new wave of teachers might not think so, but I do. You see, it’s not as easy as simply preparing different sets of learning materials. It’s not as easy as simply preparing different questions from Bloom’s cognitive domain. It’s not as easy as simply preparing a whizz-bang lesson with videos, word searches and post-it notes. It’s just not. I have to prepare to manage 25 enquiring minds and that, reader, is the hard bit.  It’s simple, but not easy.  All have a different question.  All start at different points. I am not trying to upgrade their unique operating systems from the same baseline: now that would be easy.  So what’s the answer?

The answer, like every wealthy person knows, is to multiply myself.  You might be asking yourself right now, ‘Has he gone mad?’.  Senility may be approaching, but no.  I can’t possibly give this drugs topic the respect it deserves by trying to teach it, as I don’t know enough about it myself. This is going to be a sort of a durable dialogue, a marathon mix, a conversation consultation. In short, the students are going to be me, multiplied by 20.  All of their knowledge spread around the room like love at a hippy convention.  I did this in 1987. It worked then and it will work now. In fact if Mr and Mrs OfSTED were here, they would be writing out the ‘outstanding’ paperwork as we speak.  And the catch to it all is?  Control.  Managing the changeovers from desk to desk, managing the noise levels of 20 chattering children chomping at the bit thirsty for knowledge about the mystery topic.  Rachael’s still on the scene and she will need the skill we are practising today, so I have to get it right.

Paperwork ready, BLP skills on the door, register open and in they come.  They are growing, in stature and confidence.  No longer are they running round the playground on the alphabet snake or the hopscotch squares.  They are right now, understanding how secondary students behave, how to ‘be’ in the classroom.  This is the seventh week I’ve had them. We’ll see. 

I stand in my teaching spot, scanning voraciously and my face not as fierce as it first appeared in week one.  My choice.  I decide not to ‘Biffle’ them and simply say, “OK, thank you, let’s make a start.”  Strangely it goes quiet and I marshal the last few talking stragglers by making eye contact and putting my finger to my lips.  They have paired up by friendship already. 

“Now we are going to carry on from last week, when you started to investigate legal and illegal drugs.  You used - …” I interrupt myself as 2 girls decide to discuss the booklet or their Mendhi, not sure which.  I go for a higher level of interruption and say, “You are talking while I’m talking and I don’t like it.”  I can feel my face wrinkling as I say it.  I will need more ‘Repair & Protect’ night cream.  They look embarrassed and I want the others to feel their mental pain as I cock my head to the left and raise my eyebrows.  That’s 10 seconds tops and the job is done as I feel some of the group slink down further into their chairs to let the dust settle.  Time to test the group dynamics I think. 

I get them working in pairs as our main objective is to learn how to find the main points of a text.  I introduce them to the word ‘precis’, which Mr Simmill taught me in 1971.  I tell them they have to find 3 important points and remember them in their heads, which is a new skill for some.  After 4 minutes it’s feedback time and they have good memories.  As the third student is feeding back their information K decides to get 3 coins out on the table and move them around a bit, totally oblivious to the fact that he should be listening and being ‘interdependent’ whilst practising ‘absorption’.  I stop student 3 talking using the flat of my hand towards him and physically pouting my hushy lips as he looks at me.  As I do this I look towards K and wait, standing absolutely still.  Amid the quiet sniggers he looks involved and takes about 10 seconds to look up, pick up the coins and place them in his pocket.  I say, “Ready?” with a caring voice tone and half a smile.  The scenario is a psychologist’s dream.  I quickly return to the learning and student 3 finishes their interrupted sharing.

Next up, it’s the real job of sharing their information gathering with others and I get to multiply myself by 20.  I admit I am not a drugs expert ad that I am looking to them for help and guidance.  They look at me quizzically.  The information gathering sheet is simple and I explain the task of moving round the room, but only on my say-so: I am not relinquishing total control just yet. 

“Have I made that clear?” Nodding heads.  “OK you have 2 minutes … start to share.” 

As I start my ‘transition time’ sequence, young lady K says, “What do you have to do Sir?”  I am about to answer her and then interrupt myself.  Transition time, from me to them, is an important point of control.  I look at her eyes.  She is pleading but I don’t relent.  I scan again and make my route for supporting students in my head.  She pleads more.  My instinct says help her but this is for the long term.  After 30 seconds I go to her as she is first on my list.  Am I a sucker?  No. She literally and metaphorically raised her hand and asked for my help.  There could be a myriad of reasons why she wasn’t listening and as I am not inside her head I can’t assume anything.

They are sharing. Not all perfectly, but they are sharing and it feels good as I sit and watch them chatter.  One or two find it slightly embarrassing talking to others they don’t normally mix with, but that will change over time. Sheets are being filled in and I am hearing question after question and answer after answer.  I feel multiplied.  I continue to move them around to different tables.  New information. New friends with a different perspective and Rachael is smiling and getting stuck in, which I love.  The noise level is high but productive and I take a minute to relax in the chair and see what I have created. 

Relaxation over as I spot a small article fly gently through the air and land on a shoulder.  I see who’s thrown it and instinctively respond.  “Out.”  I don’t shout.  I just make a firm request and point my finger to the door.  His head bows a little.  I am interrupting his patterns of inappropriate behaviour and I will deal with him in a minute as the others deserve my attention more than him right now.  Like lots of mobile phones, things go wrong occasionally.  His wiring just went a little haywire for a second.  No big deal.

4 boys on one table are laughing out loud and that interests me.  “You are kidding man!” M says, as I arrive to see what has caught their fancy.  He looks up at me smiling and points to the catalyst.  Apparently men grow breasts if they take too many anabolic steroids.

“Yes M, you will grow moobs, so anabolic steroids are off the agenda.”  More laughs and I smile and walk away.  Relationship builder – lovely.  I am in a good mood now as I go to deal with missile-thrower-boy outside the door.

“A, when you throw things around the room I feel really upset.  What I’d prefer you to do is get on with your learning and when you do that you and I will get on just fine.  Is that fair enough?  I do really feel very upset that he chose to throw that small broken pencil towards his friend two yards away.  The ‘after-lesson-frame’ that I am using now, keeps my dignity and his.  My open eyes and taught neck tell him my feelings.  After an affirmative he walks in and gets on with it, which tells me he’ll be alright in the future.  He can take direction.  Good man.

Time has run away with us again and they seemed to enjoy it.  I enjoyed it and they learned something I think.  We’ll check next week.  The group work went well and I was well and truly multiplied. They’re only Year 7, but they are morphing.

So there it is.  Another small, incremental change in their operating systems.  The new ‘Student Wave’.  In 5 years’ time when they leave us, all of these incremental changes will add up and they will be just like the Samsung Wave of the future that I love so much; beautiful, flexible, great conversationalist and able to adjust and work in any environment, with a minimum of 9600 minutes a month to give any willing partner.