Fourth Block Blues

I keep trying to make my fourth block class an excellent one instead of a very, very traditional one. However, it just ain’t working.

I know part of it is me. I should have taken a different approach with this class. But since I’ve taught this class so many times in the past, I’ve fallen back on some of the standard things I’ve always done. For this class, though, those things just aren’t working. I should have had a different approach from the get go.

However, part of the blame lies with the class too. They have accepted the routine of doing the work asked of them just to get done.

Each class begins with me walking around and visiting with the students (something I do in most of my classes). This gets them settled in and gets me involved in their lives.

Next, I try to steer them toward the day’s lesson. Usually, there will be some attempt at a discussion (which fails). Then I launch into some notes and then ask them to read a chapter and complete the reading guide.

All of this even bores me!

But I’m at a loss at how to make the novel come alive for them.

The novel comes alive for me every time I read it, but I forget what it is like to battle the book for the first time. That first chapter is brutal. The story doesn’t really grab them until the Robinson trial kicks into great – or at least until Atticus shoots Tim Johnson, the rabid dog.

What frustrates me is that we have settled into a bit of a pact: they settle in and do the work, but they only do it because it’s required. What they really want to do is get through the work quickly so they can visit and move on to what is important (what is going on in their lives – prom, athletics, texting . . .)

This angers me because I want to have an excellent classroom where my students think of Scout, Jem, Atticus, the trial, and Maycomb itself right up there with promp, baseball, and track. But it ain’t happening.

Right now they worked great for the first hour, but now they have that half hour of downtime that they just live for. Some are visiting quietly and some are working on other stuff. I guess as long as they’re not throwing stuff or jumping from the windows (given some of these kids), I should be happy. But dammit, I want more out of them.

I just need to find a way to get it.

I know I could take a dozen kids (out of the 30), and I could achieve an excellent class. Just today one student asked if I could burn a CD of ch. 1-8 for her little sister who loves to read and she wants to share the novel with her. That is the kind of motivation I know some kids in here have.

But I also have some kids who will barely pick the book up – regardless of what I do to motivate them.

Their essay assignments have worked well to connect them personally to what is going on in the novel. But the fact that I am unable to return their essays to them quickly enough for a relevant discussion hampers the effectiveness it could have on their collective understanding of the novel.

I’m simply unable to read and respond to 30 essays, even though some are no longer than a page, in one evening (not when I have 26 College Comp essays awaiting me or Science Fiction assignments to read too). I am unwilling to spend four hours a night to homework.

Part of me want to blame the elementary and middle schools who put great emphasis on our state tests then we do here. As a result, much of what they do at those levels is designed not to encourage intrinsically motivated learners who want to ask questions and engage in the learning process. Instead they help create passive learners who show up expecting to be told what to know. That helps create a horrible classroom.

Of course, I have helped perpetuate that same passive learning process here. I’m not suggesting all the blame fall on the other schools in our district. I am suggesting that we all need to sit down – put our differences and personal biases aside – and decide what is best for our kids.

But what good would it do if I have a classroom full of engaged kids who discuss and seek to make meaning from what we read and watch, and they failed each standardized test along the way – and as a result – failed to meet AYP?

Maybe if we could chuck the tests (Alfie Kohn is smiling) and instead devise a way to test kids or monitor them so that we can effectively gauge their ability to learn and make meaning – rather than filling in bubbles with a number two pencil or answering questions on a computer screen.

We did this in college. When I applied to become an RA, part of the interview process involved sitting down with a dozen or so other applicants. Then we were given several random objects (an egg, a box, string, and other material). Next, we were given a task: In 10 minutes, you will be asked to climb a step ladder and drop the egg from the top. Using the supplies given, create a structure that will not only house the egg but also keep it from breaking.

Then we were turned loose to devise a way. Of course, the interview committee was watching us and taking notes, looking for who took control, who contributed, who was passive, and who dominated.
Now I’m sure this type of ‘testing’ or evaluation has its share of drawbacks, but it was much more engaging and interesting – and I feel, it judged our problem solving techniques must more effectively -- than if we had been given a multiple choice test.

Can’t we give students a test akin to that? Something that judges their ability to take all the skills and ideas we teach them? Of course, it would be a nightmare to evaluate. It would be difficult to administer too. But maybe that’s part of the problem with our high stakes testing: it’s easy to administer, prepare for, and evaluate. But does it measure true learning?