When
I can’t get a conversation out of my head, I figure there’s probably something
to be learned from it. Stick with me
while I try to figure this out.
I
keep thinking about a conversation I had this week with Angela, an experienced
teachers whose wisdom I value. I was a
guest at her school, and the only authority I had was by virtue of
respect. We had just had a conversation
with a group of teachers about classroom management, during which I’d tiptoed
carefully, knowing the research just didn’t support one of their much-used
practices, the clip-up/clip-down behavior chart.
Angela
lingered afterward. I was grateful that
the relationship we’d developed made her comfortable in speaking her mind. “Sometimes I leave these conversations
feeling like I’m doing everything wrong,” she said.
My
coaching mind went into overdrive. This
was an expert teacher, one whose classroom practice I’d observed and applauded –
one who I sent others to observe. I
valued her and wanted to be sure, first thing, that she knew that. So I told her. After expressing my general opinion about her
expertise, I rushed in with a few specifics.
“I love how you listen to your students and build your instruction off
of their understanding. You do such a
great job of generating class discussion.”
I quickly listed a couple more specifics we’d talked about
previously. Then I circled back to Angela’s
concern. “I’m sorry that you were
bothered by our conversation this morning.
I’ve been thinking about this for a long time and haven’t brought it up
before because I didn’t want you all to feel criticized. But the research is pretty strong about this,
and I knew you’d want to know.”
Angela
wasn’t angry with me, but she did express frustration with the system. “We get useless PD all the time – telling us
things we don’t really need. But they
never do anything about classroom management.
All I have is the little bit from teacher prep and what I’ve seen. That is all I know how to do.”
“That’s
a problem, isn’t it?” I responded. “Especially when what we see so much of – the
rewards and punishments, the behavior charts – are not supported by the
research. Most students just don’t need
or benefit from them. There are some
kids, like we said, who need something more tangible along with having
appropriate expectations modeled and taught.”
“The
thing is,” Angela countered, I really only end up using the behavior chart for
a few kids. Most kids just stay on green.”
My
coaching mind raced again. What if she
got rid of the behavior chart and put a more private practice in place for
those few students who needed it? Was
now the time to offer a recommendation?
No, I decided. She was clearly
giving the situation thought. I would
tuck away that recommendation, not forgetting it, but saving it for a time when
we could have a sit-down conversation and make a plan. A time when she hadn’t just felt a bit
threatened.
Angela
shifted to a more personal application – her use of rewards in her son’s
potty-training process. After swapping toddler
stories, we came back to the conversation about classroom management. The tone now felt casual and comfortable. “What should I be doing?” Angela asked.
“There’s
not a quick answer to that question,” I said, picking up a book
I’d referenced earlier, during our group discussion. I read a paragraph from the book that
described the complexity of creating a positive classroom management
system.
“I
think I’m going to ask (the principal) if she can buy us copies of that book,” Angela
said.
A
conversation that had started with some tension ended with a positive plan for
moving forward. Thank goodness! How did that happen? What can I learn from it so that future strained
situations have a similarly happy ending?
Here’s what I think went right:
Value the teacher. I assured Angela that I valued her as a
teacher and affirmed specific things she was doing right (see Coaching
through Rose-Colored Glasses).
Have positive assumptions about teachers’ desire to
improve: I justified my own decision for
starting the group discussion by stating, “I knew you would want to know” about
research conclusions related to classroom management.
Create safety. I recognized that blame-shifting helped Angela
create a safe distance for talking about the situation. When Angela blamed the district and her
teacher preparation for the strategies she was using, I didn’t counter her. When she brought up potty-training, I saw it
as a connected side-track that somehow lowered the stakes.
Validate concerns. Instead of pointing a finger back to her, I
validated her concern about not knowing other management strategies.
Reinforce best practice. I didn’t need to rehash this, since we’d had a
lengthy discussion with the group. I
quickly summarized what we know.
Connect with present
practice. When I said, “There are some
kids who need something more tangible,” I was, in essence, saying, “You are
doing something right with this practice.”
I was trying to build a bridge between current and hoped-for practices.
Use restraint! This
is a big one for me! Don’t use the
firehose! Some recommendations are best
left for later. Dole them out carefully.
I didn’t spill out all the suggestions
that were racing through my mind, but I did make a mental note of one that
would be useful for later.
Recognize complexity. I
acknowledged there was no quick fix – true for every classroom question. I also referenced a book that could take Angela’s
thinking deeper, if she chose. And she
did!
I
was careful in the conversation because I was cognizant of how important it was
for me to maintain this relationship and the fact that all I had for doing so was
a foundation of two-way respect. My
concern made me a more careful coacher, but I think I’ve learned some lessons I
can apply to any coaching situation. I
hope you can, too!
This week, you might want to
take a look at:
During parent teacher conferences, be a
teacher, not a teller:
Physical activities for secondary
classrooms (movement matters!):
Mentoring new teachers:
Spotlight on classroom management:
Engaging
in Science argument:
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