But What Are the Kids Doing?

“I have the best idea for a lesson.  I found this new article on a website that I thought I could read to the students and then we could talk about it and how it relates to what we have been studying.”

“But what are the kids doing?”

“…and then I thought I would tell the students a story about that time I…”

“But what are the kids doing?”

“…using the PowerPoint to explain the concept of…”

“But what are the kids doing?”

“…with a video from YouTube that provides a great way to get the students interested in the topic of…”

“But what are the kids doing?”

“…and I could show them a model  and some really gross pictures of….”

“But what are the kids doing?”

In and out of the classroom, teachers spend a lot of time thinking about how they’re going to teach their students. Ideas come to us when we are reading, browsing online, sweating on the treadmill, driving, or even taking a shower. But not every idea that comes to us is classroom-worthy. Sometimes, something that sounds fun, intriguing, or creative still fails to pass the one-question test: “But what are the kids doing?”

Several weeks ago, I sat in a group planning for a one-hour presentation we would be giving at a meeting of the district’s principals. We spent quite a time brainstorming the components of the presentation before we began sketching out a lesson plan.  As we added to our list, one voice of reason in the room asked us contemplative questions about the lesson, most often the question, “But what are the principals going to be doing?”  If the answer was “Listening,” “Sitting,” or “Nothing,” we revamped that portion of the agenda to make the learning something other than a sit-and-get experience.

It occurred to me that “What are they doing?” is probably the most important question we can ask ourselves while we plan for our classrooms.  It’s so easy for us to pontificate in the front of the classroom—to be the wise conveyor of information, the witty raconteur, the know-it-all professor. Even if students are mesmerized by our monologues and lectures, research tells us they’ll only remember a small portion of the information if they simply sit and listen. Writing down what you say only increases their retention by a small degree. Allowing students to talk about the material with one another and asking them to do something with the content boosts their learning potential dramatically.  

I can already hear some of you thinking to yourselves (or saying aloud), “My students are much better behaved when I stand in front of them and lecture. ”  Perhaps.  You know, babies cry less when they are sound asleep, too.    

Others of you are thinking fondly (and perhaps defensively) about your class discussions, the ones where you are standing in the front and asking your class provocative questions to stimulate conversation. Those may be beneficial to the handful of student who are actively engaged in answering and debating, but what are the other twenty class members doing? (For the record, most of the time I was one of the other twenty class members, and I wrote a lot of letters to friends, doodled on the margins of my notebook, outlined the great American novel I thought I’d write someday, wished I were elsewhere, and dreaded being called upon.)

How about adding a quickwrite before your discussion to allow students to organize and plan out their thoughts? Could the discussion take place in smaller groups within the class so that all students can have the opportunity to contribute?

One of my favorite aspects of AVID’s classroom strategies is the emphasis on student engagement and active learning. Stay tuned throughout the year, and I promise more techniques you can use in your classes to find better answers to the all-important planning question:  “But what are the students doing?”

I challenge you to make your classroom a place where the students do most of the talking, most of the doing, and most of the learning. We shouldn’t be the only ones doing the work in our classrooms, should we?

How We Do It All Day Long

At the end of the second of five class periods, the guest speaker turned to me with a look of exhaustion and asked, "How do you do this all day long?"

By the end of sixth period, she was, as they say, "phoning it in." A glazed expression in her eyes, she continued to click through her PowerPoint slides and deliver the same art history lesson with the same inflections, the same pauses, and the same practiced information. My students sat there dutifully taking notes, some of them occasionally jolting back to semi-alertness after nodding off momentarily.

Early in the day the speaker told me she didn't have much experience with high schoolers, that she aspired to teach college students so that she could lecture and they could take notes.

Please note that I'm not trying to disparage this brave guest speaker who spent a long day sharing some valuable and interesting knowledge about the art of the Tang and Song Dynasties. Clearly, she knew her stuff and had prepared carefully for her day with my students.

But as I sat and watched her deliver the same lecture five times throughout the day, I had ample time to ponder her question: "How do you do this all day long?"

By the end of the day, the answer became clear. It's not about the content; it's about the students.

Though I like to fancy myself a pretty interesting public speaker who can deliver a 50-minute lecture with witty anecdotes, intriguing nuggets of trivia, abundant humor, and powerful visuals to accompany my ideas, the reality is that if I get too engrossed in my own knowledge-spewing, my students are passive and bored to tears.

The secret to surviving an entire day of teaching the same thing one period after another is to focus on the students. Involve them. Allow them to talk and question. Let them generate knowledge. Permit them to reflect and digest.

One of the many things I love about AVID is its instructional emphasis on WICOR: writing, inquiry, collaboration, organization, and reading. Even a "lecture day" provides opportunity for at least three of these: writing, inquiry, and collaboration.

The average person (and teenagers sometimes don't perform at average-person capacity) can only pay attention to a speaker for about ten minutes. Most of us drift off more quickly than that and begin making mental shopping lists, thinking about relatives who deserve a call, or dreaming about things beyond the parameters of the lecture hall or classroom.

The easy fix for this is to follow the 10-2-2 model. Lecture for a maximum of ten minutes; allow the students to write, revise, and reflect on their notes for two minutes; and ask the students to share their thoughts, questions, understandings, and reflections with a partner for two minutes. After that opportunity to interact on paper and with others, the students' brains are recharged and ready for another ten minutes of teacher talk.

An even better solution is to ask the students to do something creative with their learning--a quick presentation, a drawing, a bumper sticker slogan, a tiny poem, a monologue, a skit--and to share their products with the class. I assure you that what the students will have to say is a billion times more interesting and more memorable than anything you've got stored up in your well-practiced lecture.

The added bonus of allowing this type of interaction is that each class period is different. Though the content remains the same, the student input keeps it fresh for the teacher. The day is a lot less repetitive when you, the teacher, get to hear from the authentic voices of students.

So in answer to the guest speaker's question, "How do you do this all day long?", my response it that I do my best to focus on the students. I enjoy their unique personalities, laugh at their jokes, listen to their stories and personal connections, welcome their questions, clarify their confusion, and remember that they're the ones who are supposed to be getting something from the time they spend in my classroom.

That's how I've done it for 22 years, and I hope that's how I continue to do it until they wheel me out of my classroom someday in the distant future.