Abstract:

Ellen Berg uses this Yoda-like title to explain a situation in which she redesigned her students' morning routine so that they would get more out of it--giving her a much-needed moment to prepare for the day.

Berg, E. (2004). At the door, self you leave. Teacher Leaders Network diaries. Retrieved from the Teacher Leaders Network 10 Apr 2008. Link: http://www.teacherleaders.org/old_site/diaries04_05/EB10_04_05.html 

Full Text:

At the Door, Self You Leave

The math teacher on my team is a real hoot. When I first met him four years ago, I thought he was kind of odd with some sort of processing disorder. Someone would tell a joke during team time, and ten minutes later, ³Mr. Jones² would start chuckling to himself. He did many things that puzzled us.

Over the years I have grown to appreciate Mr. Jones' unique outlook on life and to recognize his supreme talents of observation and community-building within his classroom. One of his strange passions is anything Star Wars. He regularly quotes lines from the movies and shows short segments at the end of his math classes to reward the hard work they have done.

Occasionally Mr. Jones says something supremely wise, very Yoda-like. On Friday during our full-day professional development session, we were discussing an article about change. When it came time for his group to report on their conversation, he stated, ³Sometimes we forget who this change is really all about. It is not about us, it's about the children we teach. We have to leave our selves at the door.²

My tablemate, knowing Mr. Jones well, promptly translated his statement into a more Yoda-like phrase: "At the door, self you leave." We laughed, and I did not think much about it until later.

Contemplate that simple statement — At the door, self you leave. It is simple, yet what might happen if everyone involved in the school system suddenly put this principle into practice? Sometimes we get overly focused on the power struggles, challenges and stresses of our job and forget just why we have been hired.

To illustrate, I would like to share two different experiences I had last week with very different results. On Monday I was working with my kids to evaluate a project they had completed on MLA citation the week before. I gave kids a checklist of requirements for the project set up in a grid fashion so they could check off the level of proficiency reached for each requirement: advanced, proficient, or progressing.

We looked at projects I had handpicked because they illustrated certain issues and levels I wanted to address with the kids. I started by sharing my thinking about each aspect of the first project, trying to explain why I thought it met particular levels. We then branched out into class discussions on their thoughts about the other projects. By the end of the class, it seemed they really understood not only how to determine the level of proficiency, but also a little more about MLA documentation. It was a hugely successful lesson, even with my challenging class.

I decided to have the kids look at others' anonymous work because, after assessing the projects, it was clear there were some common misunderstandings about the concept. No matter how persistent—or loud—I was about format and punctuation, those two things were largely ignored. I could have recorded the grade and kept on going; after all, my students will revisit MLA documentation several more times through the years and it is an incredibly difficult concept for them. However, I was afraid that if I left my students mired in misconceptions, they might have an even more difficult struggle the next time around when it really counts. For their sake, it was important for them to clear up the confusion and revisit the concept.

On to the next example. I decided to begin posting work for my homeroom in the mornings to take care of two issues. First, my class is the type that cannot talk quietly or use the time to organize their day, so left with idle hands, they get a little loud. I was spending too much time putting out fires and asking them to lower their voices instead of taking attendance and dealing with all the little things we have to take care of at the beginning of the day. Second, we are required to have kids keep a notebook with constructed response questions that are not necessarily connected to what we're currently studying in the core classes—sort of a test preparation measure.

I gave each student a spiral, explained the new procedure, posted the work and told them it would be used as a portion of their grade. I picked interesting questions from a spiral on creative thinking such as, ³Suppose it rained spaghetti and meatballs rather than rain. Either design an umbrella for a ³rainy² day or write a weather report.² I was sure my students would enjoy the activity, and I would have plenty of time to take care of the morning's business.

Not so much. I spent the first couple of times managing student behavior. It was worse than if I had given them nothing at all, though the questions did generate a lot of conversation. I scratched my head in confusion.

What is the difference between the two examples? Both examples use good strategies and activities that address students' needs, right? So why did they elicit such different results?

I honestly believe the variation is the result of intentions. In the first example, my intention was to teach kids something to address their needs. In the second example, my intention was to keep the kids busy for 10 minutes or so to address my needs. It's not that I didn't want kids to get something out of the morning activity, but it was not my primary focus.

Since I have realized that, I changed my approach to the morning work. I am still posting these questions, but I have also tried to explain the purpose and share my thinking about what a quality response is. Before we transition to the next class, I ask two or three volunteers to share their responses with the class, and we offer feedback as a class. The result? Kids are more engaged and enthusiastic, and while I am spending more time interacting with my kids than before, I also have a solid amount of time to take care of the morning business because they are fully on task.

As my colleague stated, we have to leave our selves at the door if we want to be successful with children. It isn't that we neglect ourselves or become martyrs, but if we have students in mind as we plan our days and lessons, we will be more successful with students and, as a result, more satisfied ourselves. It is a small distinction, but an important one I think.

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