Teaching through Emotions

where emotions and relationships are central to teaching and learning

Category: the Third

These posts address the Third, or potential space, in the classroom.

When You Disagree

donald-trumpDuring this insane Presidential race, how do you hold back when you disagree violently with others’ opinions?

‘Tis the season to disagree. It is, after all, election season.

And what an election season! What a mosh pit of disagreement! (I will say no more other than to direct you to an example.) What an opportunity to learn more about your students and their parents than you could ever want to know!

Let’s say you’re a teacher who supports Presidential candidate Hillary Clinton. Let’s say one of your students supports Donald Trump. Let’s say your student expresses his support in this way: “Trump will make America great again.” Let’s say you’ve been waiting for a chance to crush any Trump supporter you can get your hands on. Let’s say steam starts coming out of your ears and your bile begins to rise.

What do you do to avoid turning your classroom into a mosh pit?

Suggestion: Separate the student’s beliefs from his person and treat his beliefs as text. Use that text to create a Teaching Moment.

You: Really? Donald Trump will make America great again? Now there’s a good argumentative claim. Can you support it?

Student: What?

You: How will Donald Trump make America great again?

Student: I don’t know.

You: Wait a minute. In this classroom, you can’t make a claim without knowing something about it. If you don’t know, you probably shouldn’t make the claim. Or you should do some research.

Student: I don’t need to do any research. He’s just better than Hillary Clinton.

You: OK. Another claim! How is he better than Hillary Clinton?

Student: I don’t know. He’s stronger.

You: OK. Supporting an opinion with an opinion. Not a good start, but we can work with it. Especially if you can define “stronger” and come up with some good facts to show that Trump is “stronger” (as you define it) than Clinton.

And so forth. The point is that students’ (or, more likely, their parents’) opinions can be fodder for teaching. By being taken seriously, students can experience the essential discipline of thinking in order to support their opinions. The key to supporting this type of learning experience — and to avoiding the mosh pit — is to do aikido with the student, or work with him rather than against him. He is, after all, entitled to his opinions.

And isn’t it great that he has an opinion at all?

It can be so hard to pull back from the cliff of self-righteousness! especially when our students make no attempt to do it themselves! But teachers, as the adults in the room, as the developmental partners to students who are growing intellectually and emotionally, must resist the urge to crush opinions they hate. Rather, they must help students develop those opinions responsibly and logically.

It is possible that fundamentally insupportable opinions will dissolve under the hard light of reason. It is also possible that teacher and students will learn things they hadn’t thought of before. Neither of these scenarios has a chance of happening if teachers disagree so vehemently that they crush the Third.

Silence

shhh-carouselWhy is silence in the classroom so terrifying?

I just want to muse for a moment on the issue of silence in the classroom.

I’m reminded of a professor from my grad school years, Mary Budd Rowe, who had done research on what she called “wait time.” She discovered that teachers barely waited one second after asking students a question and after hearing a student’s response before beginning to talk again. She recommended, based on her research, that teachers wait for 3 (or more) seconds — 1. 2. 3. — before starting to talk. Teachers who did that, she found, ended up doing much less talking because their students did much more.

This discovery always fascinated me. And it’s relevant to Abigail’s story, which I’m still mining, because it makes me wonder: What’s so scary about silence?

Ask and ye shall receive. I actually posed this question to the teachers in Abigail’s Teacher Support Group o so long ago.

Here are their answers. What they’re afraid of when silence falls in class is, they said,

  • “that we’ll stare back and forth and nothing will get done.”
  • “that the students are judging me and deciding I’m not being responsible.”
  • “the pressure of having all eyes on you.”

These are pretty dire predictions. Imagine: Silence falls. The teacher stares at the students. The students stare back. The teacher continues to stare, as do the students. The clock ticks and time passes. The bell rings and the students exit the room. Nothing has gotten done.

Or this: Silence falls. The teacher stares at the students. They stare back, thinking, “I can’t wait to get out of here to report how irresponsible this teacher is being for not filling every waking moment with her own voice.”

Or this: Silence falls. The teacher becomes intensely self-conscious, wondering if his fly is down but not daring to check.

I share these scenarios to point out how ludicrous our fears can be if we follow them down. And I do recommend this approach to irrational fear (as opposed to rational fear, which is an appropriate response to real danger): follow it down to its logical conclusion to see how unlikely that conclusion is. It’s like an exposure therapy thought experiment that can make us laugh at our scary fantasies.

But, ludicrous or not, the fact remains: silence can be irrationally terrifying.

Why?

I wonder: Is it because silence invites us to get real, to get back into our own bodies, to feel things, to make contact, to actually notice what is going on around us and respond in the moment? spontaneously?

Is there something dangerous about spontaneity? or being in our bodies? or feeling? or making real contact with people or with our thoughts or with other people’s thoughts? Is there something dangerous about just dwelling in the moment? in public?

I don’t know. These are genuine questions. If you have any answers to the mystery of why silence in the classroom is so terrifying, I’d love to hear them.

But one thing Abigail’s story demonstrates: silence can be very productive. Because, even as her colleagues were making helpful suggestions as to what Abigail could do with her resistant students, she remained silent. And evidently what her silence signified was this: She was thinking.

That’s what Mary Budd Rowe presumed students would be doing in the 3 seconds of silence their teachers should allow after questions and answers. It’s undoubtedly what teachers want their students to be doing as often as possible. And surely teachers deserve a few seconds — even more! — to ponder and process and organize their own thoughts as they guide their students through the exciting and unpredictable morass of learning.

Yet another reason why I love this story: Abigail chose silence. She turned inward and thought about her students‘ silence. And she had an epiphany that, I daresay, could alter her teaching forever. Not a bad moment’s work.