By Steven W. Simpson, Ph.D.
Guest Columnist EdNews.org

I hate writing this kind of column, but fair is fair. Readers have a right to know about my mistakes, as well as the stories that make me appear to know what I am doing. The last time I wrote one of these "how could I be so stupid" columns was after a Shakespeare unit in which, to my surprise, my special education students became wildly excited and deeply involved. I underestimated them then, and it happened again this week. How many times do kids have to astonish me before I get it?

You all know how it goes late in the year. The kids have seen all of your tricks, you know all their personalities, and everyone is getting restless. The sun is starting to shine, trees and flowers are in blossom, spring is in the air and those wild teenage hormones are in full cry. Lesson plans that engage the kids and the teacher become harder and harder to find. So, I thought, why not try a new project idea? Those cool young teachers across the hall are always doing projects. Why not me? Why indeed.

I tend to run a pretty tight ship. You know what I mean- good, careful classroom management, multiple-activity lesson plans, all the usual teacher methodology and structure proven over the years to work well educating difficult or learning-disabled kids. Like everyone who works in a classroom, I have figured out ways of teaching that are compatible with my personality and nerves. The problem with this neat, orderly system, is that teenagers are not neat and orderly. Their brains do not learn in straight lines or equally-divided efforts. They are creatures of chaos and noise, clumsiness and courage. If we want to teach these kids, we need to get with the program. Or at least I need to get with the program.

We finished major units on what I think are two of the best books ever written- Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse, and The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. Both books focus on themes of self-discovery, perfect for ninth grade students trying to figure out how to evolve into adults. I love teaching these books, and have a variety of writing assignments that help students explore their own feelings, beliefs and talents. The problem is that I use these lesson plans because I am comfortable with them and trust them. In the dog days of April, using something we know will work is very attractive . . . for the teacher. The kids have other ideas.

Every once in awhile I try something new just to see what will happen. This year, for reasons that still escape me, I decided to make up a new project lesson plan. As I often do, I walked across the hall and asked those teachers if they had any good ideas I could steal. They did, and I read their project plans with interest. I crafted a project plan that was similar to ideas they were using. My concern, while I was putting this plan together, was that it involved a bunch of students working mostly independently on their own ideas. They would create projects to represent people who taught them what they felt was important, places they wanted to go, adventures they wanted to have.

I provided them with some structure, but they were pretty much able to do with this project what they wanted. I expected my students to spend a week taking advantage of their new-found classroom freedom and to find every possible way to fool around and avoid actual constructive educational work. This unfair and cynical perspective of my students became more obvious and disturbing for me as each day passed. Almost all of my students hit the computers and began creating PowerPoint presentations. The remaining few started designing interesting books and posters. I walked around trying to look useful, but the truth is that my main job was feeling bad for underestimating them, and avoiding overcompensation by staying out of their way.

Day after day they buzzed around the Internet, finding information and photos of people they felt were important. They brought in photos and made me learn how to use the scanner that had been collecting dust in my room for a year and a half. They spent hours playing with graphic design and custom animation. They talked to each other about lessons they had learned, places they wanted to go, dreams they had. I was able to listen to these conversations because I was not talking. It was difficult for me to shut up and let them create, but with some guidance from my wise education assistant, I was able to back off and let my students do what I had asked them to do.

I didn't do any classroom management this week. That is one good thing for all teachers to think about. When the lesson plans are good, that is your classroom management. Kids who are engaged, excited, and learning, really don't need a lot of managing. They need help with things they are trying to create, but they don't have time for negative behavior. They love experiential learning generally, and they love creating projects using technology. I have spent almost a year attending a workshop on using technology to support learning. As the week went by, I wished my instructors could have been there to see this happening.

The chaos I was afraid of did happen, but it was not that wreck your class kind of chaos. This chaos was a room filled with happy little technoids playing with ideas on their computers. It was, yet again, astonishing and provocative. At the end of five days watching my students amaze me, all I could wonder was why it took me so long to take a little classroom risk. Why did it take me so long to let my students explore their world a bit without me hanging over their shoulder, watching every move they made?

I don't know why. I just hope I am quicker next time to set them free.
Published April 23, 2007

Monday

April 23rd, 2007

Steven W. Simpson, Ph.D.

Columnist EdNews.org

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