Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Knowing When to Smile

What I often do that tends to work quite interestingly, is to smile when I see or hear a student acting up. My smile tells them that they're caught and that I am amused. I've given them what they wanted from everyone else in the class: attention, a chuckle or a laugh, a nod of camaraderie. Instead of them getting it from their friends, they have gotten it from me. Notice however what they haven't gotten, which is often part and parcel with "disruptive" behaviour: they haven't gotten me to yell or scold them, they haven't gotten me to lose my cool, which is to say, they haven't taken control of my influence over the state of the classroom environment.

Do I sometimes want to yell? Absolutely. There's work to be done, deadlines to be met, goals to be achieved - any distractions can prove to be disastrous distractions. I've seen what happens when one students decides that what we're doing is boring, sucks, doesn't make sense. Does my approach "nip things in the bud" - no. But neither do the approaches that depend on being loud, in someone's face, and being all-powerful. If they did, then kids wouldn't be doing the same thing over and over again. If they really worked, then a student who is inclined to be disruptive would stop totally. Most don't, however. In fact, the expected response (the teacher yelling) is part of the pattern to begin with. Why not interrupt that pattern and educate this student along new lines?

By giving the student what something inside of them craves, I am now in the position to brush them towards where I want them to be: back in their own seat. Once I smile and nod at the fact that they are out of their seat, I look at their empty, longing seat and sweep my eye brows towards where I want them. I point to the spot. I continue to smile. But my eyes are serious, even slightly squinted. I'm still smiling, though, I'm still in a good mood, I'm still amused with their antics...but my eyes and my hands and my eyebrows (I've got big ones - a worthy investment for any teacher) are elsewhere, want other things, and they're insisting that the student want those things as well. Often, I don't say a word to the student - it's all non-verbal. Other times, when the deeper rapport hasn't been established, then my voice will be calm, perhaps playful and ironic, or sometimes it's serious, deep, intolerant.

The response I get is often one of "OK, you got me. I'll go back." It's a game, after all. I caught them and they lost, they tried and they lost, and nobody can fault them for that. But at least they go back to their seat smiling, perhaps giggling, and continue their work. Much more elegant, much more relaxed, than going to their seat angry and frustrated and feeling persecuted.

After all, that seat carries so much significance...