group process

At a TLN focus group earlier this summer in North Carolina, fellow TLN colleagues and I met face to face, mostly for the first time, for three days of fascinating discourse about our profession.  We began our intense sessions by establishing norms for the group's communications.  One of my colleagues and fellow bloggers, Susan Graham (of A Place at the Table), offered one of her favorite rules for successful collaboration: "Assume good intentions."  Everyone agreed wholeheartedly, and we basically felt that that one norm said it all.  Throughout the retreat, we abided by this rule and were both productive and collegial.  We were able to discuss with conflicting ideas and perspectives and it seemed like everyone's thinking about education and teaching reached new levels as a result of this.

I've been mulling over this notion of assuming good intentions.  It appeared to be an easy thing for all of us at CTQ to do and was indeed an integral part of our success as collaborators.  Does this rule work everywhere?  I'm thinking about some of my students and how assuming good intentions often runs counter to common sense they may be accustomed to, like, "Always watch your back."  

For students who come from a place where basic safety is not guaranteed, assuming good intentions of those they don't know well may be difficult, if not dangerous.  For many students of color, previous experiences with institutionalized racism can lead to an understandable mistrust of institutions and individuals within them.  There are many more experiences that can lead a child or anyone to be cautious about trusting.

All this is to say that I want to create a classroom where my students can assume the good intentions of their classmates and me and reach high levels of collaboration and intellectual discourse.  But I recognize that a trusting community takes time to build.  As I prepare myself to work with the most diverse population of students I've ever had in the same classroom, I will keep this goal and the complexity it presents foremost on my mind.  

In my next post, I'll share some of my planning for my first unit: building a classroom community.

[image credit: echoconference.com]

 Lately I have noticed that a great number of new schools opening in New York City are configured as "secondary schools," serving grades 6 through 12.  In fact, it is almost difficult these days to come across a brand new middle school.  As an educator trained in middle school education, certified to teach grades 5-9, and a proponent of the middle school movement--which advocates for schools to specialize in this particular age group, because of its unique needs--I am curious about the rationale for combining middle school with high school. I looked for information on this trend, but found surprisingly little.

Recently, I spoke to a principal who is starting a 6-12 school this year in Staten Island for new immigrants.  I asked her about her perspective on the benefits of a school serving grades 6-12. She said, quite reasonably, that the benefit is continuity. When you have a middle school that functions well, she said, one of the downsides is that you have to send your students on to a high school with a totally different program that usually doesn't build coherently on the work done at the middle school level. 

When I used to teach seventh and eighth grade in a middle school, I would become very attached to my students after the 2 years I'd spend as their ELA teacher.  I was always nervous about sending them off to their respective high schools, never knowing how they would fare.  I was especially nervous since most of them were ELL's, and the treatment of ELL's can be quite inconsistent from school to school. After that experience, I was excited about moving to the 6-12 school, where I've taught for the past three years.

I have had opportunity to reflect on some of the pros and cons of this configuration.  One challenge for my school was that it started with both a sixth and a ninth grade and added a grade at each level every year until it reached 6-12.  The middle school and high school were being developed simultaneously, and this rate of growth was challenging to keep up with, according to the founding principal.  Ideally, in a 6-12 school, the high school would be created as an extension of an already well-defined middle school. Years later, the middle and high school levels of my school have some distinct characteristics, but they and the students blur together at times, being housed all on the same floor, using the same uniform, sharing hallway space, deans, guidance counselors, cafeteria space, etc. 

One benefit of 6-12 schools mentioned in this Pittsburg Gazette article is that, "Educators said high school students can be tutors or role models for middle-grade students, but they stressed that boundaries must be observed... Administrators of 6-12 schools say the structure offers special opportunities for learning, provided officials remember to meet the discrete needs of two student groups -- pubescent, rambunctious middle-grade children and high school teens preparing for adulthood, college and careers."

I have seen high school students wield both positive and negative influences on my middle school students.  High schoolers are more mature and can handle a certain amount of freedom that most middle school students cannot.  High school teachers interact with their students differently than middle school teachers do, and sometimes this can be confusing for middle school students to observe.  A consistent message about what's appropriate school-wide is not always possible to communicate due to the differences in these two age groups.  But space makes it hard to establish a firm boundary between the two.  An eighth grade female student spoke to me once this year about how the presence of high school boys can be a distraction for middle school girls.  The dating expectations are not the same from middle school to high school, but some students do date across this line anyway.  

One the other hand, some of the best moments I've seen have been when high school students do serve as positive role models.  A school social worker has trained a group of tenth graders as mentors.  They begin mentoring students as sixth graders and continue to mentor them them through the eighth grade. This year, we had a group of college-bound high school seniors talk to our 8th graders about their high school experiences and offer advice.  We separated our students by gender, and high school girls spoke to middle school girls, while high school boys spoke to middle school boys.  It was fantastic.  Afterward, our eighth graders thanked us profusely for the opportunity.  

I see many positive opportunities that arise from the 6-12 configuration, but I remain committed to the needs of middle school students. To that end, I'd like to see more research and discourse on the best practices for this model, since it is becoming so prevalent.     

I'm curious if any readers have experience working or sending their children to a 6-12 school.  If so, please share!

[image credit: http://isles.org/main/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/iyi-060.jpg]

 It's almost time for eighth grade graduation, so I'm preparing myself to say goodbye to my students, and also looking back on this year.  One of the very best moments--and one I will never forget for as long as I teach--came at a high point of one of my most challenging curriculum pieces. We had been conducting a journalism project on Crown Heights, the neighborhood in which my school is located and many of my students live.  It is also the Crown Heights of the Crown Heights Riots of 1991.  The neighborhood is home to majority West Indian immigrants, and there is also a very visible minority community of Chassidic Jews, who mostly do not attend public schools.  Racial and social tensions continue to exist, despite many changes since 1991.  

As a class, we had conducted a walking trip in the neighborhood, taken lots of notes and made observations on what we saw. We read articles and watched film clips on a variety of topics related to Crown Heights.  Based on all of those observations, students formed groups around topics of interest they chose for their journalism projects, which included education, businesses, violence, crime, the future of Crown Heights, transportation, riots, religion, racism, language and culture, and employment.   

Students recorded questions they had on these topics for further investigation.  Then, in their groups students created their own surveys with questions related their topics.  The survey questions were both thoughtful and bold.  Here are a few examples:

Have you witnessed a racist act in Crown Heights?  yes   no

Have you been the victim of racism in Crown Heights?   yes    no

Do people in Crown Heights prefer to shop at stores run by people from their own race or culture?  yes  no

Do you believe an individual can make a positive difference in Crown Heights?  yes   no   

Why do people join gangs?  a. peer pressure   b. to make money   c. protection   d. dropped out of school

Do you believe Crown Heights will one day become a nonviolent community?  yes    no

Next it was time to prepare for the trip out into the neighborhood to ask people on the street these questions.  After writing such provocative questions, when students were faced with the reality of asking them to actual people, they became very nervous.  

    "What if someone is rude to me?  What am I gonna do?"

    "Can I be rude back to them?"

    "I can't ask real people these questions!" 

    "It's almost Halloween, gangs are out to cut people!"

    "Nobody's gonna want to answer our survey anyway."

We spent an entire period talking about how we would approach people to participate in the survey, and what they should say.  I assured them that I and one other teacher chaperone would be with them at all times to make sure they are safe.  I also told them that I had spoken to store owners and clerks in the area where we would be going.  I had a list of willing participants, which they could stick to if they felt uncomfortable approaching strangers.

Students decided on, "Hello, I'm conducting a survey for an English project on Crown Heights.  Do you have a minute to answer our questions?"

We then role-played the many different reactions people on the street might have to the pitch--how someone might say yes, and how someone might say no.  We role-played what students should do if someone responds rudely (basically, say "thank you," and move on), and also what someone might say if they are not sure if they feel comfortable with it or not.  The students came up with the full range of possible responses and great ways for them to deal with it.  

By the end of the period, I felt pretty confident that students were ready for the big day when we would conduct our surveys of people in the neighborhood.  The data would become original primary source research for their journalism pieces.

Stay tuned for Part II: The Trip  (which was really the best moment) 

[image credits: foodmapper.wordpress.com]

 

 I'm excited about a neat trick for teaching vocabulary I stumbled upon last week that is breathing some new life into this month of test prepping.  We've been gearing up for the NY state middle school ELA exam, and I realized my students' vocabulary gaps were hurting them on the multiple choice part.  Sometimes, for example, they comprehended the text--and know how to use context clues to guess meanings of words they don't know--but didn't know the meaning of a key word in one of the multiple choice answers. Those answers have no context, so they ended up choosing the wrong one.  I felt the need to do some explicit vocabulary work to try to improve their chances.

I went through the actual and sample tests from the last five years and selected 50 words that I encountered that my students might not know.  I passed out a list of the words with student-friendly definitions, and asked them to make flash cards for homework.  Each night they are supposed to study ten words.  At the end of the week there will be a test on the 50 words.  

Here's where the fun part comes in.  Knowing not every student will actually study the ten words each night, I created a tool to help them study during the first 5 minutes of class, during which I give them social time.  (See this article, Ask the Kids!, for more on this practice.)  

Each night I've been spending about ten minutes finding photographs on the internet to match five of the ten words the students were supposed to study the night before and dragging them onto a Word document.  Then I make problems like this:

Commence or determined?  (with picture below)

There are five questions like this on the worksheet and students must reason through their selection. This problem above, for example, provoked some interesting debate.  Some thought the players of chess would be determined to win, while others felt certain that the answer was commence because the positions of the pieces indicated that the game was about to begin.  In the end, students decided "commence" won, because the picture has more evidence about the game itself than the players, which are not shown.  

Students seem to be learning the words pretty quickly and happily this way, and also using critical thinking skills!  

I know something is working right because students are working on these voluntarily.  Social time is really their time to talk, daydream, etc.  But I hand these out saying, "Optional--quiz yourself and see how well you studied last night!"  Kids actually work on them, consult their flashcards, and talk through their answers, and still manage to socialize.  When social time is over and the meeting/lesson commences (love how words new words make their way into all kinds of situations...) everyone wants to go over the answers.  That's where we really hash out the answers.

Of course, chances are, none of these words will appear on the test at the end of this month, but I'm enjoying watching the learning happen anyway, and my students seem to be too. 

[cartoon image credit: educa.madrid.org      chess board photo credit: gutenberg.org]

 


I've been finding the general scene in education quite overwhelming lately. In short, I believe we're moving in the wrong direction and have been for quite some time, and that this movement is coming from the very top of the hierarchical structure that attempts to control public education in the United States and trickles on down to the state and local governance, and to the districts, schools, and classrooms.  I tend to keep a positive outlook on most things, so this is a difficult reality to come to terms with.  Once I admit that, what's next?  

In my 8th grade English class we've been analyzing and writing about the themes of oppression and resistance in literature.  As a review, I gave students a quick exercise: write down a few examples of oppression in the world and a few examples of resistance.  In my morning class, a student asked me, with a look of confusion and even fear on his face, "Hey, Ms. Sacks, wouldn't school be an example of oppression?" 

"An interesting question," I said. "What makes you say that?"  

"Well, in school we're forced to do a lot of things and can't do other things."  

"You have a point," I said.  Later, when students shared, "education" was given by a few students as an example of resistance.  

In another class later that day I heard a table of students having a discussion about whether school was an example of oppression or resistance.

I decided to change my plans for the next day and give an in class writing assignment.  The question was, "Is the institution of school in the 21st century oppressive, or is it a key to resisting oppression, or is it both?"

I thought I might be shooting myself in the foot.  Thirteen year olds are adept at righteously criticizing anything and anyone that stands in the way of their independence.  I braced myself for a barrage of criticisms about how unfair the school rules are, thinking that this would still be a worthwhile question for students to explore.  

I got a little of what I expected: 

"School is oppressive because students have to wear uniforms."  

"School is oppressive because they force us to do work when we don't want to."

There were many positive views on education as well--more than I expected:

"School is the key to resisting oppression because there are people who can help you with your problems."

"School keeps you off the streets."

"The teachers fill our minds with positive thoughts."

"School helps you resist mental oppression by learning new things."

"Education helps you have a good career and life."

What took me by surprise, however, was that the students who believed that school was oppressive mostly wrote, passionately, about how students oppressed other students:

"School is oppressive because of the bullies who bother you every day."

"School is oppressive because of the students who call you racist things for your color or your culture."

"School is oppressive because of all the girl drama."

"School is oppressive because of the fights and violence."

"School is oppressive because of how kids treat each other and act out, so others can't learn."  

Though most students recognized that school was both oppressive and one of the keys to resisting oppression in their lives, the majority seemed to feel that other students were their biggest burden in school.  

This was a potent reminder that while teachers and administrators spend PD meetings analyzing data and our most recent assessments using the latest methods, students live much of their lives in our buildings with precious little attention paid at the systemic level to how they are treating each other. 

On the one hand, this has been somewhat the norm for middle school.  I remember my own middle school experience in the late 80's, where a distinct hierarchy of students existed.  Kids at all levels of the hierarchy experienced social anxiety. I also remember certain teachers upholding the hierarchy in subtle ways. I thought the middle school movement and progressive education in general made some progress in addressing the social emotional needs of early adolescents, especially throughout the 1990's.

My students' response to my question could be seen as an example of internalized oppression. Our education system neglects the social emotional development of kids in a wide variety of ways, often in the name of accountability--from making higher test scores the top instructional priority with a "by any means necessary" mandate, to increasing class sizes and cutting art, music, and recess out of the school day.  One of the unintended results is the breakdown of healthy school communities, leaving many kids angry, fearful, isolated, disempowered.  One way kids can attempt to feel powerful in such an environment is by putting other students down.  

In my next post, I'll share one way we've resisted this oppression in my classroom.  

Meanwhile, is it out of the realm of possibility for policy makers to recognize the tremendous value of educating our nation's youth to be socially and emotionally healthy human beings? 

[Image credit: rps.psu.edu] 

Over Thanksgiving break, I planned to launch a new novel study. Boys will read The Dream Bearer by Walter Dean Myers and girls will read Like Sisters On the Homefront by Rita Williams Garcia.  This is always a very successful study for the students, because they find the novels compelling and the gender split adds some developmental dimension to the experience (This is the only time in the year I split by gender. More on that another time.)

As excited as I was to start the novel study, I felt that over the last month or so, things had gotten too ragged in my classroom. Students seemed lax about their own behaviors--in conversations with them later, students knew exactly what they had done wrong, but just seemed to lack self-consciousness or motivation to act appropriately in class. I'm talking about the usual 8th grade stuff--socializing excessively during class, antics that interrupt lessons or set off other students, etc., etc., etc.  These behaviors were upsetting the momentum of the learning and the group dynamic.  

At the end of every period I have the class assess itself as a group in 5 categories on a scale of 1-4: 

  • Agenda (did we complete it?), 
  • Quality of Work (this is for the class as a whole, not individual students)
  • Jobs (official jobs in each class are Teacher's Assistant, Supply Manager, Director of Maintenance, and Librarian--did they do them?)
  • Golden Rule (Harm no one in word or deed--did we follow it?)
  • Neatness (how did we leave the classroom?)

The self-assessment chart serves as a good data source for me.  Students are very honest when completing the self-assessment, because it doesn't count as a grade, so there's no motivation to cheat.  I saw the scores decreasing and decreasing--and it was only November.

20% of my students' final grade is reserved for a category I call "Member of a Learning Community."  In my mind, it's very clear what this includes: coming prepared to class, participating in lessons, meetings and discussions, active listening, supporting peers, following the Golden Rule, good work habits, professionalism, etc., and I have communicated this to students.  However, I needed to find a way to make students' individual grades in this category more visible to them, more immediate and short-term, and empower them to improve in specific ways.  But logistically this can be challenging. 

I remembered something a student teacher I had last year from Bank Street College shared with me from another cooperating middle school teacher she'd worked with that year--Sharon Kramer, also a Bank Street-trained teacher who teaches in NYC public schools.  I had debated implementing it in September, but thought nah, I'll be alright without.  Now things are falling apart a little bit, so it's time for a change.  

So it's only been 2 days, but this new system has been really positive.  The atmosphere of the class is quite different.  Kids are more focused, more self-aware and we've picked up the pace a lot.  Maybe it's the new novels, or the new system, or a combination.  Any which way, I'm happy about the change. I'm happy I found the courage and time to take a risk and switch things up.  

The new system: Each table has a student leader who keeps track of participation points on a chart using a code for the members of the table. Every student begins every period with 60 points.  Positive behaviors and negative behaviors are assigned + or - point values and a code letter.  For example, coming to the meeting area within 60 seconds of the bell ringing (M) is worth 10 points.  Cursing (C) is worth -10 points, and so forth. Students gain points for great group work, helping another student, leaving their table area beautiful, etc.  Students lose points for eating in class, coming late, not having a writing utensil, breaking the Golden Rule, etc.  I made it so there are equal number of positive and negative behaviors.  (I've been training students to calculate grades based on those letter codes, which as some basic math value as well!) 

The table leader rotates weekly. At the end of the day I tally up the points and make any corrections if need be.  Every day students see their official grade from the day before. At the end of the week each student averages their scores from each day together and gets a grade out of 100, which I will enter into my online grade book.

It's not rocket science, but I think it helps kids be clear on what they are choosing to do and the consequences of those choices, good or bad.  Also, there are many ways within a single period to redeem a falling grade, and this makes that visible.  However, if a student has made poor choices throughout a period, it also becomes clear that he or she can't simply work for 5 minutes and redeem the grade.  It helps kids check each other, which is much much better than me playing the cop.  I hope and suspect students also see more clearly how their actions affect their learning and the rest of the class.  Maybe that's something we could have a class discussion about soon.  

I've never really been a fan of point systems for behavior.  Ideally, we will use this for a while and then outgrow it.  But for the moment, it's the structure and clarity my students need in order to do their best work and become members of a learning community, not just students in a class. 

[Image credit: a student deep in thought on a trip to study the neighborhood. This is how I want my students to feel in class every day!]

"Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire." 

~William Butler Yeats

This summer my virtual colleagues on the TLN Forum shared our favorite education quotes. It was a wonderful exercise that helped reenergize me about teaching. I copied them all into a word file and selected a bunch to post around my classroom.

I had a beautiful ending to my week.  It was the third day of school, Friday, and students were going to be finishing writing me letters about education and the role it plays in their lives (an assignment inspired by Renee Moore's recent post). I decided to see what my students would have to say about Yeats' quote. It turned out to be a great assessment of my students' ability to think abstractly and work with metaphors. It also sparked a great discussion. (no pun intended ;)
I gave the quote out as a "warmup" when the students entered class and asked them to write down what they thought it meant.  Most students were stumped for while.  I told them that was fine. Many took a decent guess and wrote something like, "It means don't come to school to play around or do nothing. Education is serious."  But a number of students in each class had interesting interpretations that I couldn't have even thought of myself! 
I called them to the meeting area and they began sharing.  Here are a few of the most interesting responses:

  • "Knowledge is power and that if you light a fire you can see."
  • "He means it is like an opening to another side you have never seen."  
  • "Get an education and have a bright future."  
  • "Education is not just finishing school, but doing something with it." 
  • "Your education is like a fire. You light it up by learning."  
  • "This is a true saying, 'cause education is not going to be easy all the time."
  • "It is not the beginning of something big, it is the beginning of something huge."  
  • "It means education is energy! (It means we are powerful because we are educated)" 
  • "It means that if you don't understand something, you should at least do your best, and our fire is going to build up and up."  
  • "Education is not done at a certain point, but instead you learn more and more everyday, like a fire keeps spreading."    

And finally...gotta love 8th graders for making me wonder if this was tongue-and-cheek or not:

  •  "I think Yeats means that having an education can get you high in life."

It was also interesting to see which kids wrote something insightful but chose not to speak.
After we shared, I knew there were a bunch of students who still did not grasp the metaphor.  I drew a pail on the board. I said, "This is a pail."  Then I drew some shapes that looked like crumpled up pieces of paper above the pail, kind of dropping into it.  

I asked, "What does the pail represent?"  "You...your brain...your mind," students said. I pointed to the objects going into the pail. "What do these represent?""Knowledge," they said, light bulbs going on as the meaning of the image became clear. "So... what's the pail doing?" I asked. "Nothing!" they said.   "Yes!" I said. "It's like me coming around to all of you and dropping pieces of knowledge into your minds while you just sit there!"  I acted this out as I said it. "Hm..." their faces seemed to say. "And how do you feel if you're a pail?" I asked. They laughed at the absurdity.  "No way, really... Bored!" they said.  Then I drew a fire. Without my prompting, kids started saying, "Fire is powerful...it's exciting...like when learning is fun...It means inspiration!"  "So, where is the fire?" I asked. "Inside of you," students said.  One boy (who had written nothing on his paper before) raised his hand and said carefully, "See, the pail has a limit to how much it can hold. The education ends. But the fire has no limit. It gets bigger and bigger and can go everywhere." Another boy built on that saying, "The fire takes you into your future, into what you desire for your future." In one class, a student added, "But what about water? Water goes into the pail, but water makes the fire go down." "What would water represent, then?" I asked.  Students thought for a few seconds. "Boredom!" someone called out.   "True..." I said.
Luckily, I had another quote handy from one of my TLN colleagues, and it was posted in the highly visible spot right below the board, around which the meeting area is centered. I pointed to it...
"The cure for boredom is curiosity.  There is no cure for curiosity." 
~Dorothy Parker
Suffice it to say, I am very excited about my students and the year to come!  A special thanks to the Teacher Leaders Network for helping to relight my fire for teaching (a process which happens in a slightly different way each year). I'm working on a new sign to post in the classroom that will have a drawing and say something like, 
Don't be a pail! Keep your fire burning!
(Suggestions for alternate wordings welcome)

[thanks to http://inphotos.org/category/night/ for the great photo of fireand pail image found at craftamerica.com]

 
 

This is a story of student leadership in the realest sense.

Last week my students had social
studies testing all morning.  By
the end of the day, I guess they were a little burnt out.  My class (the one tends to be a very
well-behaved bunch of students) came into the room in a small uproar.  I have a policy with them that they
need to line up outside the door, enter the room quietly, and sit down.  If this is done well, the class gets
the next five minutes to socialize. (See my article, “Ask the Kids,” in Teacher
Magazine for more on this practice.) 
If they do not enter quietly, I often allow them to line up outside and
walk in again—for a second shot at earning the social time. 

Now, on this particular day, the
desks were still in rows from testing, instead of the groups of four they are
used to.  When the students came
in, they didn’t know where to sit. 
I said, “Find a seat anywhere for now.”  On most days, that would have sufficed.

            “Oh,
man, I hate the desks this way! 
Can’t we sit in our groups?” a student yelled. 

            “No!”
answered another student indignantly. “We should keep it this way.  Every day ‘til the end of the year!”

            “Noooo!”
some other students shouted. 

            “Shhh!!!!”
other students cut in. “Quiet for the five minutes!” 

Gradually the class became quiet,
waiting to see what I would do. 

Even in their silence, I was
slightly shocked at the level of tension they were displaying.  I didn’t think it had so much to do
with the desks, but I knew we needed our usual structure back.  “On a scale of one to four, how do you
think the entrance was?” I asked, as usual.

“One!” they groaned, all in
agreement.  “Can we do it again?”

“Yes,” I answered calmly.  “Here’s what I want you to do.  Each of you, move your desk back into
group formation.  Then line up
outside and we’ll enter again.”  I
thought these were reasonable directions and didn’t expect any fuss in
return.  I was wrong, however.

“What?! I ain’t moving any desks!”
cried a girl, who is usually very well behaved, but does have a complaining
streak that kicks in on occasion.

“It’s not fair!  We didn’t sit in these desks like
this!  We shouldn’t have to move
them!” another student chimed in. 

Soon half the class was complaining
about moving the desks, while the other half was watching, wondering what would
happen next.  I was surprised by
the behavior, which I know I showed on my face, and was fighting back rare
feelings of disgust.  I could have
gotten ugly at that moment.  No
matter what was going on with them, my students knew better than to act that
way. 

Suddenly, Kino (a pseudonym) stood
up from his chair.  “Oh my GOD!” he
said.  “This is ridiculous!”  He forcefully moved his desk 90 degrees
and pushed it into the desk in front of it.  The whole class watched without saying a word.  Then Tyshawn, one of the tougher
students in the class stood up, shaking his head at the rest of the class.

“Come on, guys,” he said quietly,
and moved his desk too.  Within a
heartbeat, the whole class moved their desks into their usual formation without
another word about it. They lined up outside and entered quietly. During their
five minutes break, I found out there had been major drama in the lunch room:
kids were throwing bottles at one another and there had been no adult
present. 

 

For some reason, this incident—the
one with the desks—stayed on my mind for a while.  On the one hand, I had trouble getting over the gall of the
students’ refusal to move the desks… on the other hand, how remarkable was
Kino’s moment of leadership?  While
the class was stuck thinking, “Are we going to be good right now or bad?” Kino rose above it and did what he believed was
right.  His influence over the rest
of the class was powerful, and no one questioned his choice.  Finally, how much better was it for all
of us that leadership—and, frankly, authority—emerged at that moment from
within the class rather than from me, the teacher.

Leadership in middle school is
about how kids position them selves and make their voices heard in their
various communities (school, home, church, neighborhood, etc.).  School may be one of the most important
communities for kids, because it is where so much of their peer-to-peer
socialization occurs. 
Student-centered classrooms, while they open the door to the full range
of adolescent behavior (more than a lot of people want to be bothered with),
also give kids real opportunities to be leaders. 

I have been thinking of talking to
Kino about what he did that day and why I thought he displayed leadership—but I
don’t want to ruin it by putting the Teacher Stamp of Approval on it!  I know he didn’t do it because of me,
which made it all the more real.

[image credit: www.monitorequipinc.com/ cdf_desk_chair.JPG]

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