Now I know why I’ve never written a book

favicon Like many people, I like the idea of writing rather than actually writing.

I’m finishing up a 15-page research paper for one of my Library Science classes. It’s the longest piece of writing I’ve done since college. It wasn’t fun then, and it isn’t fun now.

I’m pretty good at writing short things, like assignment sheets and memos and email and little blog posts. But once I have to sustain an argument for more than three pages, I go a little crazy.

Maybe this is how my students feel.

Here’s what I’m realizing: Whereas I struggle with being an incredibly slow writer, I don’t have to worry much about spelling, grammar, or punctuation. I know it’ll be fine. In fact, I’ll read it a couple times through and be fairly certain there isn’t anything embarrassing.

My students don’t have that luxury. Even if they decide not to be lazy, they’ll still not find all the mistakes. This is maybe why I perceive that they have a fatalistic approach toward grammar and conventions.

A questions remains, then, about how to teach my students that even people who know how to write spend lots of time hating it but slogging through. Once I figure that out, maybe I can get more from my students.

Do you have ideas for me? favicon

Fighting the predictability in my head

favicon As a teacher, it’s important to see patterns in academic behavior so that I can support students who are struggling.

But today I made a big mistake. I assumed something bad about a student and let my brain make negative conclusions.

I’ve been working pretty hard with this student since August to build a relationship, develop trust, and encourage her to seek support and not to give up. We’ve been making a lot of progress — until today.

It’s her day to see her grammar coach at lunch. Last Wednesday, my student missed her appointment because she was finishing up college applications. When I reminded her, my student said, “Oh no. I have so many things to do today.” My response was: “You made a commitment, so you need to be there.”

I was sure that my student would honor her appointment, but when her time came, I could not find her. Instantly, familiar defensive and angry feelings came up. How dare she miss her appointment right after I told her to show up! What’s her problem? Instead of remembering the progress my student has made, and instead of trusting the relationship we’ve forged, I immediately got mad.

Then I saw her printing out her essay in the corner of the room.

I breathed deeply, and I noticed my big mistake. Even though she knew nothing of my negative thoughts, I approached my student and told her that I believe in her and that I will always trust her.

This incident is a big wake-up call. Indeed, students have let me (and themselves) down many times, and as many times I’ve seen growth, I see regression. Still, that does not mean that I can jump to negative conclusions.

I am too quick to judge.

If I’m truly fighting against the predictability of student failure, I must fight against my own predictable thoughts of student failure. If I ask my students to believe in themselves and their ability to achieve, I must believe in them, too. favicon

 

The importance of mentoring

favicon A recent report on NBC Nightly News (see below, after a 30-second commercial) features SPARK, a mentoring program that claims that getting middle schoolers connected with professionals leads to lower dropout rates.

SPARK sounds like a great program. It’s pretty clear that early adolescence is the most important time to encourage kids to stay in school.

However, mentoring programs like SPARK don’t work just because they offer relevance to students. Sure, the kid in the video would love to design video games when he’s older.

But what’s more important, I think, than the cool-job factor is the relationship the students forge with their mentor. Here is a professional — a total stranger — who cares about them and their academics. That relationship builds over time, garners trust, and gives students another person (in addition to their family and their teacher) to impress and not to let down.

I see it in my students as well. Sometimes, my students will do more for a stranger than they will for me. After all, I’m there every day, and I’m just their teacher. They’ve had teachers before. But they haven’t had a professional writer, a journalist, a real estate agent, an attorney.

My job is to leverage this phenomenon by connecting my students with as many programs and as many people as possible. The more a student feels seen and valued, the more he or she achieves. favicon

I’m tired of being a cheerleader

favicon In my class, students write an essay in class on Monday and then type it on Google Docs by 11 p.m.

It’s a simple assignment. Most of the time, I get 20 out of 23 on time. This is unacceptable to me. There are always excuses, usually from similar students. Their Internet is down. Their computer doesn’t work. They have basketball practice. Can they finish the assignment in the morning?

Last night, I received just 17. The end of the semester is upon us. Students are feeling tired. They’re slacking and feeling overwhelmed. The class no longer pops for them. Most of all, they’re dispirited. How can I be working so hard, they ask themselves, and not be making progress?

As a teacher, this is a tough spot to be in. I want to tell them the truth: You’re right, you’re not where you need to be. You must work harder. Academically, you’re soft, and your standards are too low. Get with the program. Toughen up.

This approach, however, may backfire. After all, many of my students believe they’re trying hard. This is the hardest they’ve tried before. They’ve received praise in the past for this amount of work, this level of scholarship. It’s possible that negative feedback right now may break them.

But I’m tired of being a cheerleader. I’m tired of managing unacceptable student behaviors. While I understand that it’s my job to meet my students where they are, I need to figure out a way to get all my students at least to the starting line — where they all do their work on time, where they avoid excuses, where they approach me rather than my having to approach them. It’s time to stop the enabling.

Therefore, I need to talk to them tomorrow morning. It’s important to tell them what I see and what needs to change. It’s important to be stern but not angry. It’s important to tell them that I care, and because I care, I can’t sugarcoat the situation. It’s important to tell them what’s unacceptable and that they need to rise from mediocrity. favicon

What does it mean to care about a student?

favicon A student left me the following comment on our class website:

Mr. Isero, you know that I cannot go online because I do not have [the webcam] but obviously you do not care due to you have not given it to me yet.

The details of the story don’t matter. What matters is that a student thinks I fundamentally do not care about her.

This comment triggered me. I have long wondered how well I communicate care, especially across difference.

At first I was defensive: What do you mean, I don’t care? Look at all the things I’ve done to help you! Of course I care!

Then I got angry: How dare you address me with that tone! You should be honored to have me as your teacher!

I decided to do nothing until I met with her in person. After all, maybe I interpreted her meaning incorrectly. Maybe she was trying to be funny.

Nope. When I asked her whether she was serious, she said she was. And now I’m left to figure out what to do next.

My reflection: It’s pretty clear that there’s a breakdown in communication and trust. What I’m communicating as care is not being received in the same way. There is something lost in translation.

Also, I must be doing something (or not doing something) to create a sense of distrust. I’m not sure what that is. When the great majority of my students find me extremely helpful, and this student thinks I’m uncaring, there is something wrong.

My theory of action is that we need to talk more, interact more, and spend more time doing work together. It worked with a few students, so I have to keep on trying. My uncaring self wonders: Why does this have to be so hard?

In the meantime, I think it’s important to have a meeting with the student, her mom, and her adviser. We need to get out into the open what’s troubling us or else this negative dynamic will never disappear. favicon