Outsourcing Discipline

We’ve all taught that kid that knows how to push your buttons and that, after the first few days of school, is on strike two before ever entering the room. This is the kid who makes your stomach get a little queasy each day before class starts, the one who haunts your dreams at night and turns your days into living nightmares. The one who makes you pray, “Please, please, please, please let him be sick today,” as you are driving to school in the morning. 

For me, that student was Horton (For the sake of anonymity, I’m using a name of no student I ever actually taught). Horton was in my English class, and he was trouble from day one. As soon as I had an inkling he was going to be difficult (probably day two), I promptly called home to establish a relationship with his parent early on. The next day Horton showed up in class more unpleasant than ever and announced belligerently, “You called my mom last night.” He then proceeded to make my day even more miserable. Frustratedly, I pulled Horton into the hall and, in the heat of anger, gave him a big ol’ adult lecture, which made absolutely no difference when we re-entered the classroom and he had to save face in front of his peers. I gave him a warning, followed by a second warning, followed by a detention. 

He failed to show up for the detention, much to my delight, because that meant a double detention, which I immediately issued, and which was also unserved. Good, I thought to myself. This is out of my hands now. I get to send him to Saturday School and make this kid someone else’s problem.  Before the first month of school had ended, Horton had been assigned two Saturday Schools and had received three or four office referrals. He even got to spend a few days out of my class in in-school suspension, but the ISS only served to give me a day or two of rest and to make sure Horton fell impossibly behind, which made him even more of a problem when he returned to class. 

I wish I could tell you that I executed some phenomenal teacher move that got Horton back on my side and that he ended up being my star student by the end of the year. Unfortunately, Horton and I spent an entire semester antagonizing one another, his mom and I became BFFs over the phone, and I finally convinced the counselor to move Horton to another teacher at the semester so “he could get a fresh start.” I passed him off to a colleague and then commiserated with her from time to time about the challenges of dealing with this unruly miscreant, all the while thinking to myself, “Better you than me!”  In hindsight, I was the worst in so many ways. 

For some reason, I had forgotten something taught to me by a very wise Assistant Principal my first year of teaching, Scott Potter. Mr. Potter insisted that we not outsource our discipline, not send our students away to detention halls, not assign Saturday School sessions, and not write stacks of office referrals. When a student was having a problem in our class, it was our responsibility to schedule a detention with that student. The detention wasn’t meant to be a punishment—no scraping gum off desks or pounding erasers. Instead, we were supposed to spend some quality time, one on one, with the student, talking about the problem and thinking together about ways to remedy it.  

As a young teacher, I thought this was a ridiculous torture designed to make me have to spend an agonizing 30 extra minutes with someone I didn’t even want to see during the time I had to see him in class each day. Now that I’m older and perhaps a little wiser, I see the brilliance in this approach. 

Teaching is all about relationships. So is discipline. If a student doesn’t have a relationship with the teacher and feels antagonized, adversarial, or unsafe, the student has little incentive to cooperate in class. Yes, it’s uncomfortable to sit down with a teenager who dislikes you and your class and try to break the ice, but over time, when you put down the authority persona and adopt the ally stance instead, the student eventually learns that you’re on the same side and that you want him or her to succeed. Punishment does little to improve behaviors; building a relationship with a student leads to positive change.

Students know when you don’t like them. They sometime even assume you don’t like them, even when you do. Sitting down in a one-to-one with a student gives you a chance to find things you like about that student and discover ways to make positive connections with him or her. 

Misbehavior happens for a reason. Most often, a student is seeking attention—from you or from peers—and doesn’t do it in ways that are in sync with your lesson plans. Frequently, a student walks into your class carrying excess emotional baggage from home, from parents, from peers, and from other teachers. If you’re just one more angry adult adding to the noise in that student’s life, you can’t expect cooperation or engagement. Your tête-à-tête with that student may allow you to find ways to give that student positive attention and to help that student learn to deal with the baggage. 

When you spend time with students individually and empathize with them, they become more receptive to what you want them to know. Life is hard. Growing up is tough. Being a teenager is pretty terrible sometimes, or at least it feels that way for many. Let your students know that you know that; it may surprise some of them who believe no one understands them or knows what they are going through. Resisting your impulse to lecture, just listen to them. You may be the only one who does, and that listening might be a breakthrough. 

Adult brains are more developed than teenagers’ brains. We are also presumably more skilled at regulating our emotions, adapting our behaviors to various situations, navigating social norms, and solving problems. To expect kids to think and reason like adults is extremely short sighted. Students who come from difficult backgrounds may be even less equipped to handle the emotional and behavioral demands of school. The best teachers are the ones who understand this and are willing to teach problem solving, emotional intelligence, and self-regulation to their students. If we teach students what is expected in our classrooms, how to respond in difficult situations, and which techniques can be used to level things out when their emotions get out of whack, we are giving them tools they can use forever. But they won’t learn them when we lecture, issue consequences, and stack punishment on top of punishment. 

So when you’re faced with your own Hortons and your first inclination is to get them as far away from you as possible and make them someone else’s problem, consider a different approach. Transform detentions from punishment to productivity. Take the difficult steps to form a relationship with that student, become an ally rather than an adversary, and teach the problem-solving and social skills to help Horton handle the stressors that life will hurl at him.  

I heard from another former student—not Horton—the other day. He’s an adult now and doing quite well, traveling the world and writing. When he was a high school freshman, I suspect some of his teachers had their doubts because he couldn’t sit still, was prone to blurt things out, asked incessant questions, lacked impulse control, didn’t pick up on social cues, and always seemed to be talking when it was time to be quiet. He was also incredibly bright, though sometimes his behaviors masked that intelligence. He is a student I didn’t let frustrate me. Instead, I did what I could to build a relationship. In his note to me, he wrote, “Having a teacher who could joke with me, but also point out my shortcomings and how to fix them, but also endeavor to understand what I was all about, but also inspire me to grow bigger than that, etc….super valuable.” I’m glad I took the time to know this young person because he’s become an adult who inspires me with what he’s done. 

Giving your students ways to fix their shortcomings and grow bigger than what they are all about right now—that’s the hidden curriculum that may be more important than the content the state tells us we have to teach. If we outsource our discipline, we are leaving those most essential lessons untaught. 

How Do You Feel Today (about my class)?

English teachers have it rough. Socially, I mean. There’s rarely a week that goes by that I don’t meet someone who,  after discovering I am an English teacher, tells me about how much he hated English in school, all the assigned books he didn’t read, how he doesn’t know anything about grammar or spelling, and/or that he’s a terrible writer.

Math teachers have it worse, perhaps. The whole world is proud to announce how much they hated math in school. They brag about how inept they are at computation and join in with others in the Great Mathematics Hate-athon.

I’m sure there are factions of science haters, social studies detesters, and even PE loathers out there. We’ve done a fantastic job in education of making students despise what we are trying to sell them and of making them feel incompetent at doing what we ask them to do.

I’m convinced that teachers should have two main goals for whatever they teach: to make their students enjoy the subject and to develop confidence in their abilities in that area. Teachers should strive to help students form positive dispositions about what they are learning and about themselves as learners.

In order to accomplish this lofty set of goals, we have to undo damage inflicted upon them by educators past and by societal norms about education. We have to erase the scars of bad grades, scathing comments, harsh criticisms, and failed attempts. We have to empower our students by helping them experience success. Setting each student up for excellence is key, and providing the type of feedback that ignites hope rather than quenching dreams is crucial.

We have to show our students that, though the world wants to convince them it’s not cool to read, write, solve math problems, or engage in other scholarly pursuits, there’s value and enjoyment in learning how to do these things. Reading can unlock worlds of experiences and can thrill you more than any movie or video game. Writing well can give you power over others, help you get your way in the world, provide an outlet for self-expression, and allow you to understand your own life more clearly. Math is everywhere, and being computationally helpless leaves you vulnerable to others who will take advantage of that weakness. Learning to think like a mathematician is important whether you’re hoping to make money, run a household, launch a business, invest wisely, shop ‘til you drop, or create something in the kitchen, the craft room, the workshop, the laboratory, or on the computer. Science is just cool. Every branch of science contains something that will blow your mind if you give it a chance. Social studies helps us make sense of the world we live in and gives us perspective beyond the here and the now. There is something life-changing lurking within the curriculum of every subject in the school day. We have to find those bits of awesome and introduce our students to them.

Dispositions are difficult to change, but I think we can make some progress if we follow several simple suggestions:

• Stop taking ourselves so seriously. It’s school, not brain surgery.
• On a similar note, don’t be afraid to have fun. No one should spend eight hours a day doing something that is miserable.
• Celebrate successes—even tiny ones—and be gracious about failure.
• Unleash curiosity. It’s okay to wonder and explore instead of always seeking the right answer.
• Remember that no matter what the world says, the test is not as important as the learning leading up to it. Passing the test but hating the subject is still a failure in the long run.
• Think like our students. Get to know what they like and how to reach them.
• Let learning be its own reward. Ditch the extrinsic motivators. Trained seals work for treats, but they won’t keep working when the treat supply dries up.
• Sell your subject. Use comedy, mystery, or drama but not horror. Fear is a bad motivator if we want more than compliance.
• Play! Explore! Tinker! Laugh!
• Build bridges of trust with students. Let them know we want to see them succeed and that we’ve got their backs.
• Take moments to step away from the curriculum to share something interesting about the subject we are teaching: something we’ve read, a brain teaser, a brilliant quotation, a surprising bit of trivia, an anecdote, or other fascinating nugget.
• Connect. Connect ideas. Connect with the students. Connect students with one another and maybe with students somewhere else. Let them make connections to their lives, to other things they are learning, and to the world they inhabit, the things they care about.   

We have to remember that our most reluctant students don’t see relevance in what they are learning, don’t believe in their own capabilities, and cannot foresee a future where it’s important that they know and do what we are asking of them. Even many of our high-achieving students choose to live in the world of compliance rather than of intellectual excitement.

If we teach every day as if our subjects matter and do all we can to ignite the excitement of learning in our students, we can make a difference in some kids’ lives. We can change the dispositions of many. We can open their eyes to possibilities that will impact their decisions to go to college, to pursue careers they never considered, to add to the body of knowledge in the world, or simply to continue curiously and courageously learning throughout their lives without apology. 

Three Things You Should Probably Know

Three Things You Probably Should Know at this Point in the Year About Every Student You Teach

or

Fun While Test Proctoring

Research tells us that teacher-student relationships are the key to teaching, especially for reaching those students who are guarded, distant, and prickly. At this point in the year, when you can count the weeks remaining on one hand, it’s useful to think about how well you know the students you are teaching. I’ve devised a little game that could be a fun* way to pass the time while you are actively monitoring during upcoming high-stakes testing.      

Here’s how to play:  

Use a copy of your seating charts or roll sheets to access the names of all your students. Go down the list, student-by-student, and ask yourself these three questions:

1. What is this student proud of?
2. How does this student struggle in my class, or what would be the most beneficial way this student could grow in my subject?
3. What is something outside of my class that is important to this young person?

The way to win is to be able to answer each of these questions for every student in your classes.

This is a game I would have had a hard time winning when I was a classroom teacher. I could have answered all of these questions without hesitation for some of my students, but for most, I would have had one or more blanks. There were students I didn’t get to know—the quiet ones who didn’t call attention to themselves and therefore didn’t receive much, the defensive ones who walked in on day one with a permanent chip on their shoulders, the compliant ones who came to school to “cooperate and graduate” but who didn’t earn extra attention from me because they were doing fine. In retrospect, I probably didn’t make all the breakthroughs possible for those students whom I didn’t get to know as people and as learners.

Most middle school teachers and high school elective teachers seem to have figured this whole relationship thing out. In high school content-area classes, however, I think high scores on the Relationship Game are more scarce.

There are a number of factors to explain this. As students get older, they become more guarded and private about whom they will allow access to their trusted circle. Also, high school classes are more difficult and more content-heavy, so teachers at that level may tend to favor the curriculum over the humans who are there to learn it. Let’s face it: some high school English teachers gravitate to teaching English because they love Gatsby, Holden, and Romeo. Nearly every seventh grade English teacher I know teaches seventh grade English because they love seventh graders. The same is probably true for math, science, and social studies.

I’m not trying to say that high school teachers don’t love the students they teach; I am admitting, though, that our attention to content and our unwavering focus on preparing our students for college and “the real world” sometimes takes priority over getting to really know our students as human beings.  

The purpose of my little game isn’t to make you feel like a failure if you don’t have answers for all the questions. Instead, it’s a reality check.

At this point in the year, you likely know most of your students as well as you are going to know them this year. If you aren’t happy with your score, what will you do next year to change that?   

___________________________

* If you know me well at all, you know that the word “fun” was written with a great deal of sarcasm accompanying it because I’d be foolish to try to describe anything done during active monitoring as at all enjoyable. 

Prisoners Don't Have Choices

At the high school where I used to teach, there was a widely-believed (sub)urban legend that the school was built from a remodeled prison. Despite any evidence to the contrary (“I grew up here in the 80s, kids, and this used to be an empty field. I promise.”), students held steadfast to their belief in the school’s origins. To them, the idea that the school was once a prison was completely sensible. It used to be a prison. Now it just feels like one. 

The school-prison connection is a logical one. Prisons are places where people are kept for long periods of time against their will and are forced to do things that aren’t particularly enjoyable. When you’re in prison—and when you’re in school—someone else decides where you go, where you don’t go, and when you go (or don’t go) there. You adhere to a daily schedule that is punctuated by bells or other audible signals. Bathroom use and other privileges are metered out and limited. The inmates are kept under control by fear, intimidation, strict rules, and harsh punishments doled out by tyrannical authority figures. The worst offenders are separated from the masses and forced to spend time in solitary confinement. There aren’t many windows, recess occurs infrequently, and the cafeteria food isn’t anything to rave about. 

Interestingly, the students who were the most adamant about the prison-turned-school theory were also the ones who were most vocal about their dislike for school itself. It’s also interesting that these same students were often the ones whose choices were most limited during their time at school. 

I’ve taught all levels of students, and I confess to being guilty of inequity. Though I freely offered choices to my gifted and honors students, I frequently limited the options available to the students in my on-level classes. I chose what they read and the pace at which they read it. I only provided one option for classwork and homework. I chose their groups for them, yet I often made them work alone since I didn’t think they could handle the freedom of working with others. Looking back, I’ll admit I sometimes adopted a me vs. them mentality, rather than trying to build strong relationships and to meet them where they were. To many of those students, I was probably just another guard keeping the status quo in the prison. 

In retrospect, there are two changes I would have made to make my students feel less like they were serving time in a prison: connect with them more intentionally and give them choices. 

Connecting with students isn’t that hard, but it does require a shift in the way you view yourself as an educator. It takes letting go of some control, stepping out of the authoritarian role, and taking a risk to venture into the students’ realm. In my current position, I visit many campuses and interact with all levels of students. I have yet to encounter a student who doesn’t respond favorably when I treat him as if he is a person worthy of respect instead of a subordinate or, worse, a nonhuman. Young people love to be seen. Teenagers like to feel someone is taking an interest in them. They need to have their voices heard and to be listened to. The students who loathe the time they spend in school are often the hardest to approach. Many have built substantial walls around themselves and may be guarded in their dealings with others, especially adults. In my interactions now, I try to be the adult who proves them wrong, the one who doesn’t treat recalcitrant kids as they expect to be treated and who tries to see them for who they are. Kids are interesting. Kids have opinions. Even the most reluctant learner has something to say if given a chance.  

Providing choices also requires letting go of some control and trusting that the majority of students, when given the freedom, will make decent decisions—and if not, that they will learn from the poor decisions they make. If we never ask young people to make choices and decide everything for them as they grow up, two things will likely occur: they won’t learn how to make choices and think for themselves, and they will resent the restrictions we place upon them. 

By providing four acceptable options for in-class reading selections, I have given my students the opportunity to control some aspect of their learning. By allowing them to choose from three possible ways to demonstrate mastery of the content, I have put my students in control of their own learning and, perhaps, differentiated the assignment (because more often than not, students will select the option that is an appropriate challenge for their cognitive level). By letting them choose a partner to work with, I acknowledge the social component of learning and honor their desires to engage with friends. By not micromanaging every decision, I show my students that I trust them and dispel the myth that they’re in a place where the grown-ups are wholly in charge because students’ opinions and desires don’t matter.  

Everyone deserves to have choices. In schools, the ones who need choices the most are often the ones who receive them the least. Todd Whitaker, in his book What Great Teachers Do Differently, suggests that educators should make decisions with the best people in mind. In other words, we shouldn’t limit choices because of the few students who can’t handle the freedom or the ambiguity. Instead, we should think about the best students—the ones who thrive on choices and autonomy—and structure our instruction to provide them chances to guide their own learning, to steer their own course, and to determine how to manage their time, their materials, and their interactions. By doing this, we are making schools seem less like prisons and more like places of opportunity and possibility. We are making our schools enjoyable environments for our clients, the students, those whom we hope will shape the future. Giving them choices today will help them make the best choices down the road. Let’s unlock the shackles we’ve been placing on our students and set them free to learn.

Growth for All

I half-jokingly mention to people that I am the sole caretaker of a number of at-risk houseplants. It’s pretty much true, though. Despite my attempts to foster the growth of the specimens under my care, most of the vegetation in my home exhibits at least one undesirable trait. My aloe has stopped growing. The peace lily hasn’t bloomed in years. The two remaining leaves of the once-vibrant snake plant seem healthy but lonely. The philodendron drops yellowed foliage periodically. The zeezee plant (yes, the one that Better Homes and Gardens says is “so easy it’s almost a challenge to kill”) is proving that I’m exceptionally bad at plant life support. And the unidentified plant I grew from a cutting my neighbor gave me is now so tall and gangly that it constantly requires cutting back and propping up.

I’ve read all about plant care, and I have come to a conclusion. I’m overfertilizing some, underfertilizing others. Some are too wet; others, too dry. A few could benefit from repotting. Two need to be moved to a sunnier window. One needs to be left alone. And one will be just fine if I find something for it to climb on.

It occurred to me (in my never-ending quest for educational metaphors) that my plant E.R. is a lot like a classroom. Like my houseplants, every student has needs that must be met in order for each one to grow. Some could use a little boost of fertilizer or root stimulant (I might call that motivation). Others require supports and scaffolds. A few would benefit from some pruning or redirection. Many should receive more care from me, but some are stifled by excessive attention and need to be left to their own devices.

In every case, plants and students grow more successfully when you get to know each one individually and meet each one’s needs. Plants allegedly like to be talked to; so do students, especially when the talk shows that you see them as people, not just as part of a collective whole.

Plants and students all deserve to experience at least a year’s worth of growth in a year. Tending to one segment of the population and extending that same treatment to all will ensure that only one segment grows.

A grave danger exists in schools when educators create a single deficit narrative and apply it to all their students. “My students can’t or won’t  ______.”  Fill in the blank with whatever you want: read, write, solve problems, do homework, think critically, pass the state test, study, pay attention, etc. What sometimes happens is that we craft a deficit narrative, apply it to all our students (even though in reality it only relates to a portion), and then prescribe a treatment for all according to that narrative. In effect, we put leg braces on every student even though only a few need to wear them.

When a houseplant appears healthy but has stopped growing, chances are it is root bound. The roots have reached the capacity of the pot and have nowhere to expand. The only way to get the plant to grow is to transplant it into a larger pot.

At times, the one-size-fits-all approach to classroom instruction leaves the most able learners root bound. By teaching to the lowest common denominator, we limit the growth of students who could thrive if given the room to expand the scope of their learning.

I’m going to work on getting better acquainted with my plants. I need to stop trying to diagnose them as one big, problematic group and instead get to know each one and give it what it needs. I’m also going to encourage teachers, administrators, and others who work with students to do the same. It would be nice if one solution fixed every problem, but the world is more complex than that, whether we are talking of plants or pupils. Let’s give all a chance to grow.

Halfway There: A Midsemester Reflection

It’s a long road to the end of the school year, but the good news is that you’ve reached the halfway point of the first semester. I think this is a good time to take a brief pitstop to stop and reflect on how the journey of the school year is progressing for you and for your students. I know you’re busy and don’t have all the time in the world to sightsee at the moment, so I’m going to limit the reflection to four topics that just so happen to spell out the nifty acronym ROAD.

Relationships: How’s everyone doing midway through the first semester journey? Are you continuing to discover things about your students each day, or are you so absorbed in your curriculum that you’ve forgotten there are young people in your classroom? Are you and your fellow teachers acting like grown-ups and getting along, or do we need to stop this car and have a little discussion with the passengers? Are you remembering that the human element is the most important factor in every learning experience? Do some of your students walk into your room every day with two strikes, and you’re just waiting for that one last strike that’ll send them out? What can you do to rebuild relationships that have slipped into dysfunctional patterns (because it’s a long time until June, and you don’t want the remainder of the journey to be an ordeal)? What can you do to infuse some joy and laughter into your work life and into the lives of your students?

Overwhelmed:  Check your gauges to make sure they aren’t overheating. How overwhelmed are you right now? How about your students? How much of this is your own fault?  What can you do to reduce the pressure on yourself and on the kids? Do you recall that students have five, six, or even seven classes besides yours and that many of them have lives outside of school that involve rehearsals, practices, meetings, and events on evenings and weekends? Do you have a life outside school? Have you figured out some ways to give yourself time to breathe and step away from your job? The engine needs some time to rest and cool off during a long journey.

Attitude:  Think back to August. Remember that optimistic teacher who was excited about learning, wanted to change lives for the better, and looked at every misstep or pitfall as an opportunity for growth? Where did that teacher go? And remember those students who walked into your class with smiles and feelings of hopefulness, ready to be the best they could be? How are they feeling about themselves, about you,  and about your class now? Do they know that it’s too early to give up? What can you do to give them a quick tune up to get them back on the road with smiles on their faces? How much of your students’ attitudes is a result of your own attitude?

Direction:  Are you and your students headed in the right direction? Are you on this journey together with the same goal in mind? Is everyone aware of the destination, what it’s going to take to get there, and what you’re likely to experience along the way? If you or your students have veered off course, what can you do to recalibrate your GPS and redirect your efforts? Do you need to increase the level of guidance for some students and give others a little more leeway to chart their own courses?

I apologize if these questions added to your overwhelmedness. Some of you probably want to reach through the computer screen and punch me in the virtual face for being so inquisitive. I think, though, that taking a moment to reflect is important for us as professionals as well as for our students. Whether you use these questions or not, take a moment to check in with yourself to see how things are going. Perhaps you’ll find some adjustments you can make that will ensure the remainder of the semester is a much smoother ride than the first half. Don’t forget about allowing your students to reflect on how things are going for themselves. I wish you all success on the remainder of the journey.

Teaching is a Sales Job

Last month I bought a new car and made a new best friend. Or at least that’s what it felt like. Ethan was his name, and he was my buddy just seconds after I walked onto the car lot. Ethan was interested in me. He asked questions and talked about things we had in common. He gave me undivided attention, making me believe I was the most important person in his life. He called. He sent e-mails. He took the time to show me each car and explained the key features of every model. Ethan was patient and happy to answer and re-answer each question I asked. He didn’t make me feel pressured about shopping for a new car; he had my best interests in mind and wanted me to make the decision that was right for me, even if it meant that I had to come back several times to test drive as I narrowed down my final choices.

On the day I bought the car, Ethan seemed as excited as I was. He met me at the front door when I arrived and had my car waiting for me for one last test drive just to make sure it was what I wanted. He brought me water, made sure I was comfortable, and introduced me to his helpful colleagues, who also seemed to want to be my friends. I was so popular. Ethan helped me set up my bluetooth, linked my phone to my car, and showed me how all the buttons and knobs worked before sending me on my way.

For the next few weeks, Ethan kept in close contact.  He called several days later to see how I was doing. At least once a week, he e-mailed me helpful pointers, videos, and website links so I could get to know my vehicle. Ethan was only a call or email away when a question popped up. Last week, I received the email that I knew was coming: it was Ethan’s goodbye. I had owned my car for a month and was now ready to be on my own. Of course, Ethan reassured me he could still be contacted if I had any questions or wanted to refer other people to be his friends, but he would be initiating no more messages.   

The things that made my car-buying experience a positive one are similar to the factors that make a positive educational experience for our students. Teaching, after all, is a sales job. What we have to sell, however, is often a lot harder to sell than what Ethan was peddling, and our customers are a little less eager to buy in.  (It’s also--dare I say it?--more important because you’ll get a lot more mileage from a good education than you will from even the best-made automobile). After all, I walked onto the car lot wanting to purchase a car and fairly certain of what kind I wanted. Students, on the other hand, don’t always enter the classroom convinced that what you’re offering them is something they actually need. That’s why you’re going to have to make a convincing sales pitch, appealing to students’ pathos, ethos, and logos (that’s emotions, sense of moral duty, and logic for those of you who’ve slept since--or who slept through--tenth grade English). Hook their hearts, their morals, and their minds. Even if you’ve taught this same lesson six periods a day for the past 44 years, you have to make the kids think it’s the best, most interesting, and most worthwhile thing you’ve ever seen. I had a teacher once who told me she hated The Once and Future King, the book we were just beginning to read in English class. Guess who decided to side with his teacher and mentally check out of that unit before even giving it a chance. I’ve made it a point to never let the students know I don’t love whatever I have to teach on any given day, and, following suit, the vast majority of my students have attempted to share my enthusiasm. I am certain that the safety features of the new car I bought were not the most exciting topic Ethan could think of to discuss, but he made me think they were something to marvel over.

Good salespeople know the importance of establishing rapport with each customer. That’s why Ethan became my BFF for a month and why teachers need to work doubly hard to make connections with their students, especially with the unruly or recalcitrant ones who do all they can to make themselves difficult to like. Every book I’ve read on classroom management or about working with at-risk populations emphasizes the importance of the relationship piece above all else. Even a simple hello at the door as students enter your room can begin to build that relationship. Make a point to find out something each student is interested in and something each is proud of and have a quick conversation about those things from time to time. Give students your full attention during class time; let them know they are what is most important to you at that moment.

Part of establishing rapport with students involves celebrating successes with students. Just as Ethan made my purchase feel like a partnership and seemed excited for me when I found the car I wanted, teachers should let students know that learning is a team effort. It’s not us versus them. We want them to succeed--maybe more than they do--and we will stick with them as they struggle and cheer them on when they get it right.

One of the questions I asked Ethan during my car shopping was why I should buy the make of car he was selling instead of the one I have owned previously. He was able to rattle off a list of reasons--some practical and some emotional--why his brand was the best. Teachers hoping to sell their subjects to students need to be ready with a compelling “why” for every lesson. And I recommend sharing that “why” even if students don’t ask for it.

Like Ethan and other excellent salespeople, a teacher has to be patient. I came back three times to test drive cars before I made my decision. I asked stupid questions about the GPS, how the “sport mode” worked, the type of fuel I should use, and more. Never once did Ethan act as if answering any of my queries was a burden or a chore. He did not roll his eyes. He did not sigh audibly. He did not tell me, “I have already answered that question.” Ethan created a safe environment for me to be curious, to learn at my own pace, and to ask the things I wanted to know more about without fear of ridicule or judgment. Wouldn’t it be great if all classrooms were similarly conducive spaces for learning?

Ethan offered me ample support and assistance during the car-buying process so that I wouldn’t get stressed out or overwhelmed. He continued to offer support afterward, while I still needed it, and he tapered off the support as he became convinced that I could operate the car on my own. This gradual release model works beautifully with students. Teachers offer the most support when students need it the most and slowly introduce resources and other outside assistance to the students to help them learn to handle their questions and think for themselves. Teachers are always there to swoop in when students need emergency roadside assistance, but the goal should be for the students to learn to drive away on their own. Just as Ethan can’t ride around forever in my passenger seat and answer every question as it pops up, teachers don’t want to have to follow our students to college and continue to check their homework when they become adults. We need to be able to say reassuringly, “I’ve given you all you need to be successful. Now you’re on your own.”

In so many other ways teaching is not like a sales job. We don’t make commissions on what we sell; we sometimes don’t even know whether we actually made the sale at all.  Our rewards and motivations are different. But we can find satisfaction in knowing that what we are selling is one of the most precious things on earth. In ways no material possessions will ever be able to, education has the power to positively transform the lives of our customers, our students.