It's been a long haul, but I think I'm winning. It's taken me this long to figure out how to communicate effectively with my boys. It's taken me this long to figure out just how to monitor and how to track and reward behavior. It's not my strength, it's not my forte'. It's just not easy for me. I don't enjoy being a policeman in my classroom. I don't enjoy having to be "on" every single minute of every single day. It's one of the reasons I was so happy to leave the classroom and move into the role as a support person and resource person with Title 1 and Reading Recovery. I haven't missed managing 25 bodies all at the same time. I haven't missed always being on top of every motion and movement within my classroom. For the past 8 years I've enjoyed being able to teach small groups or one-on-one with very little energy put forth for classroom management and behavior. I've enjoyed using every minute for instruction with little wasted time for behavior. For the moment, though, those days are over.
I've always admired classroom teachers with awesome classroom management skills. This has been the ultimate challenge for me. My boys have put me through the wringer. It's hard to say what's happened. I believe it has to do with consistency and communication. I couldn't communicate clearly early on. I didn't know what worked with my boys. I didn't know what they cared about. I didn't have a clear plan. It's so stinkin' simple in my mind now. But, I hadn't ironed out what worked for me. I was searching for a system that was easy to implement and track and I didn't know what that system was, until now, maybe, for awhile.
It started the day after I was observed by my principal and her entourage of observers. I'm not certain why I had to have at least six people in my room to observe me, but I did. It was the week before our two week break. It's much the same atmosphere as we've experience in the states right before Christmas break. Every morning for over a week, we started our day with a whooped up taboor to celebrate National Day, and it seemed like things just never settled down after that.
My boys were horrendous. They were beyond horrendous. Even my good boys were bad... and I mean B-A-D. It started with one boy who decided he had to poke and pick and talk and wiggle and squirm and giggle on the rug. He had an audience and he yucked it up. I pulled out every trick in my hat. I gave him the look, which he promptly ignored. I moved near him. I moved him. I pulled out stickers for the "good" boys. I tried distraction, I tried ignoring him, I sat him next to another adult. NOTHING worked. All it did was fuel his fire and his behavior escalated and spilled over onto his buddy who then got the giggles and the pokes and the wiggles. By this time I figured I was toast. No instruction was happening, there was no classroom control. I figured it was going to happen. I could tell from the tone of the boys when they came in late from their earlier class.
And so I carried on like a good soldier and the boys carried on and the observers shook their heads and cast me disparaging looks. My cheerleaders included in the observation crew pleaded with their eyes for me to do "something," but I didn't know what that something was. Eventually the principal gathered up her entourage and they cascaded out of the room and on to their next appointment. Twenty-three years of teaching experience and I felt like a complete idiot. I had planned and prepared and prepped, but it didn't work. I felt set up for failure. I felt incompetent, incapable and completely at a loss. And so, at the end of the day, when I had time, I cried. I figured I would be sent packing home. Now what? I wondered.
I went home that night and licked my wounds and went back the next day and... I...got....mad. I got like... Mary. When Mom had enough of me and my siblings clowning around... oh, boy. Watch out. She got bigger and taller, and she got a really creased look to her face. I'd swear her nose and chin got longer and pointed. Her blue eyes didn't twinkle anymore, they dug into you like spades. She would cross her arms, or shake her finger at us, and her voice got a really sharp tone to it, and when she leaned in and said, "Now, enough. I will NOT have that kind of foolishness going on in my house. You take it outside, or settle yourselves down. Now!" We did! We straightened up quick and we got lost fast! You didn't and still don't mess around with Mary.
So, the next day, I blew into my room like Mary. My boys took one look at me and something changed. I'll bet one of my eyebrows disappeared into my hairline while the other one formed a crooked line above my one squinty eye. I crossed my arms, tapped my toes and with as few words as possible asked the boys if "amse," yesterday was good? (thumbs up) or bad? (thumbs down). There was a consensus with thumbs down. They knew it. Then I went to each boy and he had to tell me how he behaved yesterday. They knew. They knew it well.
And then, we made up a list of class rules. I'm certain any first year teacher is tisking her tongue and wondering why in the world we hadn't already written our classroom rules together. Well, there are a myriad of reasons why not. First and foremost, we didn't have a clue what we were all saying. They didn't know what I was saying and I didn't know what they were saying.
For much of the year, I've had my good friend and colleague, Y____, in my room. Y's role in our building is to help with the Arabic translation and transition to English for the LT's. She is amazing, and she is stretched so thin between eight LT's that we are wearing her out. She has a presence much like Mary's. And, I hadn't realized until recently how much her authority overuled mine within my classroom. We have co-taught side-by-side all year and we've had some good results.
I haven't needed to have her with me all of the time. I had found that if Y just popped in every so often, things would run okay within my room. However, sometimes, when she left the room, my boys would suddenly decide it was okay to misbehave. If Y walked back into the room... instant good behavior. Recently, I noticed that if I started my day without Y, the boys' behavior would be fine, and continue to be fine when Y walked into my room. When Y left, then disruptive behavior may pop up. I started to think back on Y's role within my room. Two of the most disruptive and disrespectful recent days I barely survived were days when Y was not at school, and they both occurred when I had my boys in the afternoon instead of the morning.
I started to wonder how the boys viewed me and how they viewed Y. Y was the authority and it seemed like I was just along for the ride. I was the babysitter, the substitute teacher. I had to become the enforcer. Y had to step back. Y and I never discussed it, but somehow I think we both sensed it. She started excusing herself from the room when I began to launch into a lesson. I'd watch her leave the room thinking to myself, "...but, but, what if I need you?" I'd ask her to clarify a point in Arabic and she'd reply, "They understand," or she might repeat directions in English. Y in her wisdom, was cutting the apron strings. She was pushing me out of the nest. I had to fly or flop. I've definitely experienced the flop syndrome lately and I don't have any desire to continue. It's time for me to fly.
And so, the boys and I composed together, our classroom rules. I'm pretty stinkin' proud of those rules. To me, they represent our first open line of communication. Everybody's lights were on and ears were open. They clearly understood what we were talking about. My proudest moment was after we had written a few rules like, "Listen," and "No hitting," I asked, "What else?" I wasn't expecting a verbal response, but Ali piped up, "Sit down!" YES! Absolutely. We completed the list with, "Finish work," and "Follow directions." Tah dah!
Then, I introduced....the chart. I love the chart. It's a happy face chart. Happy faces appear on the chart when Miss Sheri is happy. When a boy gets five happy faces, he gets to dip his hand into the "treasure box."
I hate the treasure box and I love the treasure box. The treasure box costs me money because I have to fill the treasure box with goodies, little cars, play dough, pencils and stickers. Basically, I am buying good behavior and I hate that.
I found that back in the US, the same kids earned the treasure box rewards every week, and all it did was cost me instruction time. The students I wanted to motivate really didn't care about my old treasure box. Once I just set my expectations and didn't try to bribe my students they seemed to respond better. So, two years ago, I put away my treasure box and have never regretted it.
But, here and now, my treasure box is my friend. It works, it's working and my hope is that eventually, I will be able to wean the students away from the continual extrinsic rewards and develop some intrinsic motivation.
So, I have had two great weeks of instruction since we have returned from our break. My first grade students are starting to cruise. I feel like I've got them, and I am finally, in charge. It's about time. Naturally, once I get something good going on, a wrench needs to fall into the works. As soon as we returned from break, I also became the lucky teacher of a 2nd grade class. Their LT decided she needed to resign. They aren't nearly as challenging as my 1st graders were, but they are a new challenge. It's all about setting the ground rules... again.
