Category Archives: GENERAL INTEREST

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One Positive Way to Empower Students

 

CHAT TIME

Teachers have their own ideas for how to motivate students to learn. It is not uncommon to adjust and try new ideas every year. Classes of students have a personality, just like teachers have their own unique style and delivery. That is why an instructional program is bound to be different in its usage since teachers are individuals with their own strengths and talents. Uniformity only goes so far. I have had the experience in my career where scripted lessons and format did not allow for any deviation. Fidelity to the program was expected so that we could measure its effectiveness with our students.

Intervention programs often are designed in this way so that the academic concepts will be concrete and learned well. Then their academic progress can be monitored and charted. This is good, but challenging. A creative person such as I am, finds it difficult to rein in the copious ideas that formulate and beg for attention in the mind. A myriad of ways to teach a common instructional concept hover in the brain seeking entrance into the formative juices.

As a reading specialist with instructional programs driving the delivery, I had to let go of some of my “great” ideas that wanted to jump out. However, there are a few that I have been able sneak in and use to my advantage. One is my Monday morning Chat Time. The idea sort of just happened early in my career as a public school teacher. From that point on I would use it with every single group or classroom of students. It became one of the most well liked of student preferences.

The rules for Chat Time are simple. One person talks at a time. No one interrupts or asks questions. We simply listen. The teacher may ask questions to clarify. Everyone gets a turn. The option to pass is allowed. No negative or violent talk. No put-downs allowed. To begin Chat Time, I call on someone to chat right from the get-go after they sit down around the round table in my small reading room. From there we make a circuit around the room. As their teacher, I also share something.

Reading groups are only a few students so this works well. Students who “pass” on a consistent basis, I will ask an innocuous question to encourage them to talk. How was your weekend? Did you get to go anywhere? With larger classes I organize the Chat Time groups into a four week rotation. Through chatting and telling, the students and I learn a lot about each others worlds; family interests; the older brother in Germany in the military who would call his little brother; we learn who was at someone’s house for a birthday party; student’s first communions and baptisms; how their bedrooms are being decorated influenced by the latest teenage sensation; visits to Mexico; parents in job transitions; puppies and pets; grandma’s and grandpa’s coming to visit; new toys and video games, bounce houses; soccer and soft ball teams; tamales, molé, carne asada, the latest party and family gathering and much more.

Chat time is “sacred” in my room. It is never replaced. Students absent on Monday wish they had been there, they like it so much. The youngest students enjoy it as much as the older students. Chat Time’s success revolves around its ability to include all students without any form of exclusion. It gives students a voice. Opportunity to encourage language and oral expression come easily in this venue.

Most of all, Chat Time provides a powerful tool by validating and acknowledging the individual. Most schoolrooms are long on being quiet and short on times for talking. Students thrive on being noticed and feeling special. There are times when the chat time topic evolves into a rich discussion about world events or scientific discoveries. Historical events and geographical details are always of interest if we should stray down that trail.

I learn a lot about my students; their interests, fears, family dynamics, and joys. Some children will finish the conversation one-on-one with me after the others have left in the brief time before my next group will arrive. These are always the hard ones, comments like “I won’t be here tomorrow because we’re going to visit my dad in Susanville (where he is incarcerated)” or “Did you read the paper about my dad? We’re going to go after school to see him. Don’t tell anyone,” (a drug raid or other infraction including sexual assaults) and the most common, “My parents are getting a divorce, that’s why I’ve been so sad.”

It is my desire as a teacher to fan the flame in such a way that any child can learn. Students must know and believe that they are accepted and liked. Their understanding of their own worth and value is fundamental. Philosophy is important. When asked in interviews what my philosophy for teaching is, I always say the same answer. “I believe every child can learn. It is my job to help them do this.” It helps if the educational environment is safe and conducive to developing the whole child.

I remember my own fourth grade teacher. She noticed me and drew me out.  Miss Elliott made me work hard but she also noticed my strengths. Her personal comments made me feel good about myself. They were genuine. As a very shy child, this was rare. I was largely unnoticed by my teachers, one of those students who fall through the cracks and didn’t get the extra attention or privileges; I wasn’t on their radar. I still remember the words Miss Elliott spoke to me about my artwork (the large helicopter mural I drew for the Christmas program), my public speaking (a report on apricots with real life examples), and her delight with the homemade caramels I made for her birthday (from an old family recipe).
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This year I am not teaching. I miss hearing the students talk and getting to know them as people. I step on campus once in awhile. When I visit the school, the children run up to me to say hi. Happiness is on their faces. They tell me about what is happening at school or in their lives, chatting a mile a minute. I suppose their happiness in seeing me somewhat relates back to my interest in them. . . . and that’s a good thing!
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From A Quiet Grace by N. L. Brumbaugh

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The Dog My Son Loved

DUKE

Duke was the puppy’s name. He was a lively black lab. My son brought him over for us to see, and we fell in love with the puppy just like that! “What a cutie!” I wrote in my journal, “My son sure loves his puppy, Duke. It’s really great to see. Duke has also warmed up to Oscar (a stray we were loving on). The puppies seem to be companionable—and I like that. It is fun to have puppies around.”

Duke went everywhere with my son. They were like a team, inseparable. My son was always teaching him tricks. Over the years it had always seemed like my oldest son got the short end of the stick. He had such a tender heart. It was good to see him jazzed.

Duke gave him unconditional love. My son’s girlfriend was crazy about Duke as well. She loved dogs and would give him advice on raising Duke. We learned bunches about dogs by osmosis that summer. On occasion, Duke stayed with us on the farm while my son was at work.

But the happiness wasn’t to last.

My son holding his friend’s rambunctious dog. Duke is on the left.

August 14, 2005, Journal entry.

“Tonight Duke died. He was hit by a SUV. The driver came to the house and told me. Seeing Duke’s lifeless form on the berm across the road broke my heart. Telling my son on the phone was difficult. He was surprisingly calm and matter-of-fact. I expected him to be angry or loud. He came right over, didn’t stop to talk, went out to the road to find his friend, Duke.

I went out after he had arrived. I saw him in the distance. He was kneeling by the road lightly touching Duke’s fur. Then he stood up, gathered Duke in his arms and carried him across the road into the orchard a few rows in. I said his name in a muffled sob. We stood apart grieving and sobbing, neither one of us speaking.

I felt angry. It felt like that ugly curse that always seems to happen to us. Nothing ever seems to turn out right for us. Not fair. I hurt for my son, as mother’s do, more than for the dog. He was the happiest I’ve ever seen him when he was with Duke. Just this morning he was showing me his newest trick with Duke. Holding still with a cracker on his nose until my son said, ‘Okay.’ I cried off and on all evening. Sometimes I get so tired of the pain of this old world.

Later his girlfriend came over. Before my son left with her, he came in my room. I had just got off the phone to his sister. I related our conversation. ‘Never thought I’d cry over a dog. Duke seemed like a person’ and so forth. Then we cried again. My son came closer and touched my knee—that touch reached my heart. His younger brother, when he got home, wished he had had a chance to say goodbye to Duke. He went out looking for where Duke was buried so he could say goodbye.

It struck me how significant this is. Another unwanted loss. I’ve been dreading the possibility ever since the ‘boys’ (the dogs) started wandering. My son was always bragging on Duke. I’m going to miss that. Some things in life we just don’t understand. Duke’s death is one of them.”

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Pet loss is hard. Bonding with a pet is akin to the unconditional love of a trusted and true friend. Many of us have stories. After Ronald Reagan lost a beloved horse, his daughter Patty, a young girl at the time, said her father was standing by a fence looking out into the distance with a faraway gaze. She was tearful as she stood by him. He said to her, “I’m remembering all the special times we had together.” And that is how it should be.