A student told me yesterday that we do a lot of writing in my class, and she’s not wrong. She also made a comment about how she would like more feedback – which, of course, as a teacher, I love (partly because it is a component of my job, and partly because it means that the student wants to improve because SHE actually wants to improve).
And as I was preparing for today, it hit me. That’s the key. Student ownership.
Those of us in the teaching world know only too well about the plethora of educational buzzwords which bombard us daily – student ownership of their own learning is one such phrase.
Often times I find myself baffled that I can give the exact same instructions to 150 different students, and the results run the gamut of “Where were they when we were talking about this text?” to “Damn, this needs to be gilded, it’s so good!”
I know that as teachers we have the awesome responsibility of finding the right words at the right time to maximize student engagement during a lesson in order to motivate our students into producing the best results. But, at the end of the day, it’s not about me. I sat with that truth for a while, and let those words roll around. It’s not about me.
When you walk into my classroom, there is a poster with a Chinese proverb which reads, “Teachers open the door, but you must enter yourself.” This adage basically sums up my educational philosophy. I am a facilitator.
Confession: I had a hard time last week. In the midst of my own personal struggles, I was struggling at work too. At the heart of my struggle was the fact that I seemed to care more about my students’ learning than they do. I did a lot of soul-searching, shed a lot of tears, and then I faced the reality of the situation, “It’s not about me.”
Six years ago, in a middle school gym, motivational speaker Bill Cordes told my students “YOGOWYPI!” and they all looked at him like he was crazy, or making up words. YOGOWYPI stands for “You only get out what you put in.” Your education, your life, is what you make of it. As your teacher, I will do my very best to create learning opportunities that are engaging, meaningful, and content-rich.
But, if you’re waiting until the last minute to examine conflict in Orwell’s “Shooting an Elephant,” copying someone else’s math homework from a Snap, or lamenting “But Miss they’re just notes” about your Honors Chemistry work… you are ROBBING yourself of getting the most out of your education.
I care. I am a compassionate, hard-working, and principled person. I believe that character matters more than content, and I also believe that how I teach content will help build your character.
- To all the students who “get” it – thank you. You sincerely make it a pleasure to come to work everyday.
- To all the students who know and want to do better – thank you. That desire to improve is a fundamental part of the process.
- To all the students who struggle but do nothing to help themselves – HELP ME HELP YOU. I just want you to try. I don’t want you to cut corners, to check out, or to go through the school year like zombies.
The time is now for you to TAKE ACTION – for you to care about your learning in real and valuable ways. Again, I will do my very best by you. I wholeheartedly expect the same courtesy from you. NOT for me, but for yourselves.
Addendum: When I first started writing this entry, I wanted to share that writing helps me see how you’re thinking, feeling, working, etc. Writing is the proof, at least for me, that you are learning and growing. I taught exclusively writing for six years – it is a passion of mine. AP Language and Composition is all about the choices a writer makes and how it impacts the reader. Reading, speaking, and listening all play important roles. But writing… writing is an art. Writing is powerful, and that’s all I want for my students – for them to be truly empowered. Empowered to make changes, to confront adversity, to live their very best lives, to be the very best versions of themselves they can be. #noexcuses
