Emerson Avery EDUC 540

Domain 2: the classroom environment

While reading Jessica Towbin’s “When Students Don’t Play the Game”, I was immediately
struck by the similarities between the classroom she described—in Seattle, Washington—and
my own, at Kensington Creative and Performing Arts High School. The “culture of compliance”
she characterizes as existing in many an affluent suburban school, and by comparison absent
from the school to which she had come, is also absent at K CAPA. Indeed, this was the subject
of one of the first conversations I had with my mentor teacher. The students, he explained to
me, will not respect you simply because you are their teacher. You have to give them a reason
to do so.

In the weeks since that conversation, I have had ample opportunity to see his words
confirmed: both in regard to the students’ a priori disposition and the singular power that a
relationship, well and intentionally cultivated, can have to alter it. As such, I begin from a
simple premise. At K CAPA—and, I hazard to guess, at not a few other schools in the District—a
“culture of learning” is always also a culture of rapport. The nature of this rapport may differ
depending on the teacher, and what works for one may not work for another, but it must be
subject of early and constant attention. My own practice, which thus far seems relatively
effective, starts at the door. I am always outside my classroom during moments of transition,
both in order that I can see what’s going on (or, as the case may be, going down; we’ve had a
few fights in the hall this year) and to greet the students passing my door. The welcome I
extend them continues once they are in the classroom. I am at pains to learn my students’
names as quickly as possible, and while I am handing out the Do Now sheets, I check in with
them all by name. If they appear in any way distracted or unhappy, I make sure to ask.

I am, in other words, consistently friendly. I am not, however, their friend, but this is a fact I
am not at pains to underline. Rather, it is one that emerges quite naturally from continuing
interaction. I am perfectly happy to laugh at students’ silliness, and sometimes even encourage
it, but if I feel it has gone too far, I push them back on track. When I do so, however—and I
think this is important; it feels so—I make sure to maintain the same tone. I don’t want my
students to be confused by a friend who suddenly mutates into a figure of authority; rather, I
want them to know that both “sides” are organically me.

As important to classroom culture, however, is the rapport the students build with one
another. One of the ways in which I try to keep this relationship front and center is by the
manner in which I redirect. When side conversations grow too boisterous—a perennial risk of
group seating, which I support for reasons aired below—I do not reprimand students for failing
to listen to me. Indeed, I do not say anything until a student is speaking, at which point I note
that they are failing to listen to their peers. The goal of this is two-fold. In the first instance, it
almost always makes an ally of the student whose right to speak I am defending. (And with K
CAPA kids, this is sometimes all you need! Most of our students are assertive enough to tell
their peers to cool it, albeit sometimes colorfully.) But it not simply a tactical move. I also want
students to believe that their peers—and, by extension, themselves—have something useful
to say.

This desire to highlight student thinking is part of the reason for the way I arrange my
classroom. As I have noted, this consists in several (I think six) clusters of four desks each, with
 a few left over to adjoin existing groups if more space is needed. Students face one another,
and, as a result, are well-situated for communication. As a result, they are able to benefit from
each other’s ideas. The underlying theory, however, goes deeper still. In at least one
ideological regard, I am something of an educational malcontent: specifically, concerning
student performance. For a variety of complicated reasons, school is built to elevate the
individual, whose future is thereby rendered brighter. I like to see my students succeed, but
honestly, were I to succeed in educating the next generation of this economy’s winners, I’d
feel I’d failed. We’re in this together, and I want my students used to thinking of their success,
or at least their learning, as something they share with their peers.

The upshot of this arrangement, perhaps unsurprisingly, is a sometimes boisterous classroom:

and furthermore, one I cannot fully squelch. To do so would be to undermine the students’
connection to one another. But there are ways to manage the energy in the room such that it
productively channeled. In the first instance, this entails planning lessons without a lot of dead
air. One of the things I am learning from my mentor teacher is the value of having one or two
activities in your back pocket, such that the students never feel like they’re simply marking
time. Those who finish an activity early, I try to directly engage to push them on the ideas
under discussion.

With respect to student behavior, similar considerations apply. Student connections are
important, but as I have already said, there are better and worse sorts of connections, and I
am careful to let students know that it is the former I will tolerate. The process of delineation
begins with a class constitution, for the drafting of which the students were responsible. This
document—posted prominently at the front of the classroom—established ground rules to
which we are all responsible. Minor infractions, upon first occurrence, are handled jocularly; I
will gently rib my students for stepping out of line. The idea, here, is both to put them on
notice, but to let them know I will not overreact to ephemeral disturbances. If the latter
continue, I will engage the student for a one-on-one conversation of a more serious character.
The tone, however, is always solicitous. My first question is something to the effect of “are you
doing ok?” Sometimes they are not, in which case the question can be useful. But even when
the reason is simple misbehavior, the tone is important. Their disturbances, I wish to convey,
are of concern to me primarily for what they mean regarding that student’s state of mind.

In a few instances, we have had to take things further than this. In the main, that means a
conversation outside the classroom, or even a phone call home. Notwithstanding the repeated
exhortations I have seen not to call parents for something negative, in the few instances we
have done so, some improvement was generally observed. My strategy, however, is to make a
note such that I will later speak to that parent to communicate something positive.

In the event, there has been a great deal positive this year so far. The classroom we are
creating is often one in which I am happy to exist, and as the weeks have passed, it increasingly
feels like one where authentic learning is taking place. I am excited to see what the coming
months bring.

 How will you create an environment of respect and rapport?

 How will you establish a culture for learning?
 What procedures will you establish for managing the classroom?
 What procedures will you establish for managing student behavior?
 How will you organize the students for learning?
 How will all of this enhance the teaching and learning process?