“I know how you are,” I teased one of my eleventh-graders the other day after the work-work-work had subsided and a few minutes of rare downtime had begun. “You try to act all tough, but underneath it all, you’ve got a heart of gold.”
“If I had a heart of gold,” he said, not missing a beat, “I’d sell it.”
This kid has great comic timing and presence. He was doing a Louis Armstrong impersonation on the way out of the classroom ( “I think to myself what a wonderful world. . .”) that had me and the other students in stitches. But his average? Way, way, way down in the red. And it seems like I care about it heaps more than he does.
I’ve been around long enough to know that lack of success in the classroom does not necessarily translate into lack of success in life. I’ve seen it with my own brother and my own friends, and and I pray that I will see it one day with my own son. But it’s hard to sit back and watch when the one who is set to benefit or suffer eventually doesn’t seem to care at all.
I used to get frustrated with students who didn’t do their work; I took it personally. Over the years, though, I’ve developed a new philosophy. It sounds cold, but it’s actually warmly sound.
“My students’ work is not my responsibility.”
No, the responsibility for students’ work — and ultimately for their success — lies squarely on them.
I will give them the information and the tools they need to complete the assigned tasks. I will assist them in understanding how to complete the tasks, if they require or request it. And I will encourage and redirect and remind and kneel down at their desks speaking in a voice of soft concern. But I will only do my part, and my part doesn’t include fretting over their work.
Allowing myself to step away from the fear (that they will fail, and it will reflect poorly on me as their teacher, for example) and the worry (about the same, possibly) means that my interactions with these clearly at-risk students, rather than being confrontational and leading to further disengagement, will be more positive, more encouraging, and more supportive.
At the same time, I’m not enabling their lack of responsibility. Quite the opposite, actually. I ensure that natural consequences ensue. This means not giving them a 60 instead of a 17 to make sure they’ll be able to pass if they decide down the line that they really do want to do something. This means not allowing them to turn in all that missing work at the end of the grading period, even though the late policy allows for only two days late. This means allowing them to reap what they have sown, to learn a valuable life lesson.
Now, this is not to say that exceptions don’t arise, especially in cases of administrator intervention (Hey, he’s my boss!) or students with IEPs (It’s the law!). And, yes, I have made exceptions on my own in extenuating circumstances. But I think we would all be wise to consider the implications of our actions when we coddle our students too much.
What’s going to happen in the “real” world if they don’t turn in that crucial project? Will they get a promotion and extra time to complete the previous project, thereby causing their former supervisor to work overtime to assure they’ve met the standards with it? (Don’t ask! This one’s a definite thorn in my side…) No, they will likely get fired or placed on probation. And it’s not fair for us to allow them to think otherwise — by our words or our actions.
Educational tag lines like “All students can and will learn” (the motto of my first school district), “Failure is not an option,” or “No child left behind” are preposterous to me. Can learn, yes. Will learn? Well, that’s up to the students. I mean, we can lead them to the water; we can even dunk their heads down in it a few times (just so we don’t touch them); but we cannot force them to drink.
We just have to continue explaining how wonderfully refreshing and invigorating that water is, finding ways to show them that they really do need it to survive, and hoping that one day (maybe even when we’re not looking) they will saunter up to it on their own and find out for themselves.
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Hi, I just read a few of the things on your website. I would love to talk to you sometime. I teach mentally retarded students in the 9th and 10th grade math and science–housed over here in the gym building at Langston. I guess we’d just as well be on another campus, as much as we see each other. When we have a teacher’s meeting, we just want to GET OUT and go home! I am doing homebased instruction as well, so this doesn’t leave much time to converse. I love the pictures pointing out the mistakes, I’m afraid we’ll see more and more of these as the years of email and texting go by. Spelling and grammar will just have to take a back seat I suppose. The thing I wanted to comment on was the article, “Who’s Responsible for Students’ Success” as this has just been an issue with my students on Friday. One said,”You aren’t teaching us what we should be learning.” I subsequently wrote on the board,”Teachers Teach, Students Learn.” Unfortunately, today’s students don’t realize that they have to do more than come to school (some don’t even do that) to learn. I suppose they think that just by coming they are supposed to learn. Who knows where the world will take these lovelies?–probably right back to the environments that they grew up in–looking forward to the “check” that they get for their “disability” that some are always talking about! It is so sad that some could actually do better–if they only knew it and would try “just a little!” It probably is true about the “regular” students as well — they could probably also do more than they are!
Hi, Mrs. Burns! Thank you so much for your comments. You are so right about the time after meetings (like today’s!); I’m always past ready to get out of school and get home to my family at 3:30 — even more so at 4:30…
I’ve had situations like the one you describe. Many students don’t feel they have any responsibility in the learning process. They expect to be spoon-fed everything, and they want to find someone else to blame for whatever happens to them. Of course, they take this laisser faire attitude with them when they leave school and enter the “real” world. Something has to be done.
So I do my share by holding students accountable. Last semester was my first at Langston, as you probably know, and many of my students last semester were completely appalled that I was so strict about everything (formatting work, adhering to policies, controlling behavior and attitudes, etc.). I had a very difficult time at first. My students this semester weren’t surprised because they had already heard how “mean” I was. :P But the thing is, now that they’re acting better, I don’t have to be as strict and mean. One of my students the other day was yelling through the wall (it’s plaster stuff with a hole cut out around the lighting units… :/) at me (and I paraphrase): “I love you, Mrs. Hawke. They all say you’re mean, but you’re really not!”
As far as spelling and grammar go, I’m not giving up! I don’t care how they talk/text to their friends and family, but they need to know how to seem presentable to adults, especially employers (many of whom don’t know all the rules either??) I told my students that, regardless of whether they like it or not, if they can’t communicate using standard English, people are going to think they’re stupid, even though I know and they know it’s not the case.
I’m wondering how your class discussion on responsibility ended up. Did any of your students understand where you were coming from?