These positive mental images replace the negative I can’t messages that athletes sometimes have with those of success. At competitions, meets, matches, or games, so much of an athlete’s performance comes down to her own belief in herself. Sure, she can land that double Salchow in practice, but at a competition, the mind interferes with muscles’ training.  A jump that the figure skater can land in her sleep is the one she falls on because the mind has wandered into negative territory or just won’t shut down long enough for her legs and feet to engage on autopilot.

It’s the same for other athletes. The football player who knows his plays backwards and forwards finds himself in the wrong position to catch a pass. The best free-throw shooter misses a crucial basket. The track star trips on a hurdle. They’re over thinking actions that they’d never think about in practice or filling their heads with self doubt and worry.

It’s not just athletes who self-destruct. We all do, even in our classrooms.

When I first started teaching in a low-performing, low-socioeconomic high school in Texas, I had a seventh period that I dreaded. Every time I thought of that seventh period class, I’d add a groan to the end of the word. These kids were smart, fun individuals, but as a group they were a handful. I spent my sixth period prep planning extra activities and alternate assignments for these students so they’d be so engaged they wouldn’t have a spare second to chat, argue, or pull the entire class off task. I focused on my student leaders Kevin, Dustin, and Chris and devised ways to make their influence work for me. I worried about calling Shalana, Shatana, Shamika, and Shanna by the wrong names. I obsessed over seating charts and lesson plans. I phoned home, met with parents, and hosted detentions.

My other classes? They were fine. Well, mostly fine. They certainly weren’t seventh period (ugh!). First period was a joy. Fourth period  wanted to leave early for lunch every day. My journalism students were excited about writing and my French students brought me Cajun food. But that seventh period class (ugh!) took up all of my mental energy, and much of it wasn’t good.

Reframing the situation. I had an interesting conversation about difficult classes with Dr. Allen Mendler, co-author of Discipline with Dignity and an Inside the School online seminar presenter. He said that he knows a teacher who has a class like my seventh period (groan). Instead of dreading the class, the teacher spent time drumming up positive mental images of the class and its influential students. Instead of starting up a memory of Kevin writing an inappropriate vocabulary sentence on the board, he would have replaced that with a positive image of Kevin writing a teacher-approved sentence on the board. Instead of replaying the mental footage of Chris’s tardy and his accompanying beat box rap star entrance, I could invent an image of Chris coming into class with a pass and quietly taking his seat. I could replace Dustin and his chip on his shoulder with an image of an easy going Dustin who didn’t look at every word as a personal attack.

In other words, instead of using my prep period to add to my lesson plan and my home time to create elaborate seating charts, I could spend five minutes a day imagining that my seventh period (ugh!) was instead my seventh period (oooh!). Instead of thinking of them as my worst class, I could imagine them as my best class.

I regret that I met Dr. Mendler 15 years too late. I never did try this positive imagery idea on my seventh period (ugh/oooh) class. But I can’t help but wonder: how would my teaching have changed if I had practiced visualizing seventh period (ugh/oooh) as my ideal class? How would my treatment of Chris, Kevin, and Dustin have changed? Would I have engineered my seating chart to spread out Shanna, Shatana, Shamika, and Shalana to the four corners of the room or would I have let the friends sit together? Would I have used Brandy as a human shield between Dustin, Dustin’s temper, and the rest of the class?

Belief is powerful. The more a person believes that she can do something, the more likely she is to accomplish it. An athlete’s belief in herself can improve her performance. A patient’s belief in the healing process makes it more likely he’ll be well again. Of course, the same principle applies to negative beliefs, too. Believing in failure makes it happen. That’s not to say that belief is the only factor in success; belief without hard work, training, or planning isn’t belief, it’s a dream.

Allen Mendler is an educational consultant and author of several books, including book HANDLING DIFFICULT PARENTS, which contains material about making parents allies. For more information about how to reach Dr. Mendler or obtain his materials, call 800-772-5227 or visit the Teacher Learning Center website www.tlc-sems.com.

Interested in more from Dr. Allen Mendler? Check out Teaching Impulsive, Inattentive and Oppositional Students in the Differentiated Classroom

Look around your classroom at the students who have habitual behavior problems. Are they engaged? Do they complete assignments? Do you think they look forward to class? Do you have a personal connection with the student?

Let’s face it: it’s hard to form a personal connection with some of these challenging, disengaged students.

If we accept the idea that the teacher-student connection is important to student achievement, what happens when that connection hasn’t been established or is horribly broken? If grades reflect a positive student-teacher relationship, do they also reflect a negative student-teacher relationship? If so, how much of that grade is based on achievement and how much is based on attitude?

That’s the question that Scholastic’s Practical Leadership blogger Suzanne Tingley posed. She wondered if the A on a kid’s report card indicated academic success or compliance. Tingley wrote:

Grades have always been a little bit of a game.  Students can be awarded so many points for homework, for attendance, for class participation, for turning assignments in on time.  On the debit side, students who don’t Honor roll do homework, are tardy or absent, and don’t participate may lose points towards their final grade.  I recall how one high school teacher explained her grading system to me:  “If the paper is late, it’s a zero.  If the student doesn’t hand it in at all, it’s a double zero.”  Too polite to tell her that was crazy talk, I simply told her we weren’t going to do that anymore.

Tingley also makes the observation that an honor roll student doesn’t necessarily perform well on state standardized tests.

I’ve given completion grades for homework. I’ve given participation points, especially when our building principal encouraged everyone to do it. However, I’ve always tried hard to make sure that the grades were something I could observe and measure. The last thing I wanted was for a parent to take me to task for picking on Ashley, who earned a B for participation this grading period. I never wanted my grades to come down to like or love.

Even with clear expectations and measurable objectives, I think that student engagement and behavior plays a role in a student’s grade, no matter how hard I try to be impartial. If a student is often tardy or absent, that behavior will show up in her final grade. If a student texts during biology instead of listening to the final exam review, her exam grade will suffer. If she spends more time in the principal’s office than at her classroom desk, her grades will reflect that, too. On top of it, she’s not engaged when she is in class, so her grades will be lower still.

What’s the solution? I think that the solution is to strengthen the student-teacher relationship. Instead of focusing on how the student needs to improve, focus on what the student is doing right. Make sure to say one positive thing to each student every day. Use the 2 x 10 method to improve student-teacher connections. Provide hope and flexibility to students who have resigned themselves to failure.

What do you think? Do our grades often reflect a student’s compliance rather than her ability? Do you ever grade on participation or completion? Is it good practice to do so? What do you think we can do to make our grades reflect achievement rather than behavior?

Retired superintendent and former teacher Suzanne Tingley is the author of How to Handle Difficult Parents: A Teacher’s Survival Guide (Cottonwood Press 2006). You can read her blog, Practical Leadership, in Scholastic’s Administrator’s section. http://blogs.scholastic.com/practical_leadership/

“With students who lack motivation, the wise teacher picks her battles wisely. It is best to avoid hassles over whether a student has necessary supplies until after the student experiences success.”

-Dr. Allen Mendler, Motivating Students Who Don’t Care, p. 26

For students who always leave folders in their lockers or never have a pen, Mendler advocates having donated supplies in class for all to use, return, and replenish.

Students who forgot materials can help themselves at the classroom supplies center without bothering another student, asking for the hall pass, or not engaging tin the lesson. Students just help themselves to materials and bring in supplies from home to replenish the supply center.

Sources

Pens and Pencils. When I taught, I created my supply center from found objects rather than donated supplies. The custodian for my room knew that I collected lost pencils and pens, so when he swept the hallways or vacuumed the classrooms, he’d collect them for me and put them in my jar.

Paper. Students knew they could have one of those pens or pencils, no questions asked. For paper, I encouraged them to write on paper from the recycle bin. The paper was free and most of it was empty on one side. For those who plan ahead, another resource for no-cost paper is the great end-of-the-year all-school locker clean out. Scavenge for partially used spiral notebooks, packs of unused loose leaf paper, and three-ring binders. Store them in your classroom closet for use the following year.

Books. Loaning out books becomes more tricky. Either the school library (LMC) issued a book to each student or I did. Textbooks are expensive and I was pretty stingy with my extra copies. Like some of my fellow teachers, I required some form of collateral in exchange for the book. Socks, cell phones, car keys, and backpacks made for good exchange items. The problem is: what if, at the end of the day, you’re stuck with one stinky tennis shoe and no textbook? With 100 – 180 kids passing through your door, will you remember which one left in his stocking feet?

A much better plan is to talk to the school librarian and then the chronically disorganized student’s parents. Ask the school librarian if she has any extra textbooks that she can check out to the disorganized student. Then, make the call to the kids’ parents. Offer to allow the student to leave the extra textbook at home and keep the first one in his locker. That way, the parents won’t be running to school every night to retrieve the geometry book and the student has a decent chance of bringing the book from his locker to class. Best of all: you, the teacher, are not on the hook for a misplaced textbook.

Responsibility vs. Expediency. Despite the efficiency of just giving the student a found pencil, recycled paper, and a loaner textbook, I know that some of you disagree with offering these supplies at all. You would rather that the student learn responsibility as a natural consequence of her actions. Brianna forgets her book one day and can’t use it on an open-book quiz. Jason forgets his pencil and he can’t complete the bonus assignment. As teachers, we know that this kind of lesson is powerful.

However, it’s tough to tell a parent at conferences that his daughter didn’t do as well as her peers on the quiz because she forgot her book and you wouldn’t loan her one. When Jason’s mom realizes that the bonus assignment could have pushed her son’s grade from a D+ to a C-, she will ask you why you didn’t just lend him a pencil. “Don’t you care about my kid?” she’ll ask.

You can give Jason’s mom and Brianna’s dad the responsibility argument. It’s a good one. Me, I choose to have my loaner supplies instead. I’d rather spend parent-teacher conferences talking about how Jay and Bree met the objectives of the class instead of how they still can’t remember to bring a book with them.

Reference:
Mendler, Allen N. (2000.) Motivating Students Who Don’t Care. Bloomington, Ind: Solution Tree Press

Do you keep extra school supplies on hand for those students who never remember to bring a pen or paper? Do you lend out textbooks to the bookless? How do you stock your supplies? How do you keep track of your loaner books? Do you think this kind of support coddles students and fails to teach them responsibility? Do you think that this kind of support is just fine because the day’s objective has nothing to do with pencil lead or paper pulp. It’s all about the objectives and the more time we waste quibbling over paper and folders, the less time we’ll have for Avagadro’s number. At what age should teachers no longer offer this kind of support? Please share your thoughts in the comments.

Editor’s note:

Dr. Allen Mendler recently visited Inside the School to record some online professional development seminars. During one of his seminars, Mendler said something that I couldn’t help but write down. Mendler said that he witnessed this kind of conversation between a teacher and a challenging student:

TEACHER: I just want to tell you that I’m really glad you’re in my class. I know that it’s not your favorite place to be, but I’m trying hard to make sure that I’m the right teacher for you. I’ve tried many strategies to teach you, but so far they haven’t been working very well. I’ll keep trying more so that you can learn. I want to thank you for being a part of my class. You are making me a better teacher.

Let’s be honest: you are making me a better teacher isn’t what I would say when talking to a challenging student.

But it should be, because it’s true.

This week we celebrate Thanksgiving in the U.S. and I’d like to share with you a list of challenging students who taught me a lot. I truly am a better teacher for having them in class.

Luke A. and Ian P.: Thank you for teaching me that I need to be very calm with some students. Keeping my voice steady and low when you push my buttons helps to prevent the situation from escalating.

Brandon M.: There are no throw away students. You scared the heck out of me with your toughness, ankle bracelet, and parole officer. I’m so sorry I let you down, but it never happened again and I thank you for that.

Danny T.: You taught me the importance of connecting with students. I wish I had done a better job of that with your friend Chad. I admire the way you kept his memory alive and I will always remember to allow students to grieve.

Chris and Joel: I let your antics control my class. You taught me how to deal with students who take over. It was a valuable classroom management lesson and I’ve never forgotten it and am better for it.

Jeremy S.: Remember that discussion we had about how you couldn’t find the value in writing poetry? Thank you for making me reach beyond because it’s in the state standards, that’s why. You taught me to make my content relevant.

Janna M.: I’m so embarrassed that I messed up your progress report, but I’m very glad that it was with you and early on in my teaching career. You were kind about it and you taught me how very important good record keeping is. Thank you.

Alicia, Monique, and Lisa: You know that chip on your shoulder? I’m so glad I ignored it and I’m so glad we’re still in touch. I’m very proud of all three of you.

Aaron: When you jumped out my second-story window, I didn’t know what to do. You taught me to stop focusing on myself and how freaked out I was and start writing get well soon cards instead. I am a better person for it. Thank you.

Sean D.: I’ll never forget how you took pity on me in summer school and arranged my seating chart for me. You’re a genius with people and you taught me that students make the best seating charts. Thank you.

Jonah R.: Our time together wasn’t easy, Jonah. What I regret most is that I really liked you, but we didn’t connect. You were a funny kid. I’m also grateful that you taught me in the first six weeks of my teaching career to document student behavior. It’s one of the most useful things I’ve ever learned as a teacher.

Shanna, Shalanna, Shatana, and Shamika: You taught me the importance of remembering student names and getting them right.

Adam P.: You hung out in my room nearly every day after school. I’m still not excited about the choices you made outside of my classroom, but I’m very glad that you taught me that everyone needs a sanctuary. I take it as a compliment that you felt my room was safe enough to be your refuge.

JoAnna: We went through fire together and survived. I’m so glad that I advocated for you and your right to free speech and I’m very proud of your journalism award. You have really made something of your life and I’m proud that we’re friends.

Kurt: I tried everything to get you to put pen to paper. Who knew it would be poetry that did the trick? You taught me that a small amount of success can really help a student turn a corner. Thank you.

Elliot: You funny, goofy kid. You taught me to lighten up. Thanks.

Seventh period English, 1995: Man, you guys were outta control. I had to learn classroom management pretty quickly, thanks to you. I know that one of the most valuable lessons in teaching I learned from you: if you can’t control them, at least you can plan to outwit them. You were a mental challenge for me and I’m proud to say that I figured out what to do. We even ended up having a pretty good year, didn’t we? Thanks.

Kevin P.: You taught me that the football coach can be my dearest friend. Sorry about all the laps, kiddo, but you were pretty fit from all the running, right?

Brian S.: We had a rocky start, but I think that positive note home really helped us connect. I know you were surprised when your mom read the good things you’d been doing in class instead of the disruptive things you’d been doing. I don’t know who was prouder of your second semester grade: you, me, or your mom. Thanks for teaching me the importance of positive parent contact. It’s an amazingly powerful tool and I owe my extensive use of it to you.

Jason S.: You’re my unexpected writer. We had a great personal connection and I really think that’s why you performed so well in my classes. Thank you for teaching me how important that personal connection can be. Now, quit sending me Farmville updates. I don’t know where your cow is.

Dustin: I’m not really sure where you were most of your second semester of senior English, but I really missed you. I’m glad I took the extra time to make sure that you learned the material and graduated from high school. I’m even more pleased that you’ve become a success later in life. Thank you for teaching me that two weeks of my time can make a huge difference for years down the road.

Catty yearbook staff: Life hadn’t prepared me for the back-biting and gossip among you girls. You challenged me to figure out how to meet deadlines while trying to keep you from doing one another in. Thank you for that skill and for the great yearbook we put out.

Jacob: You taught me so much about ADHD. I’m really glad that I could support you on your journey.

Noah: I didn’t see much progress from you in high school, but that didn’t mean I gave up on you. When I saw you at the grocery store this year I was really happy to see how far you’d come. Thank you for showing me that kids might hear a message even if they appear to be completely ignoring the messenger for four years.

Lindsay: You taught me to treat teen likes, dislikes, fashion, and music with the respect I would give a foreign culture. I regret my remarks about Good Charlotte.

The Advocate Staff: I taught you about free speech and you ran with it. As you know, with great power comes great responsibility and you shouldered that responsibility so well. I was afraid to let you make those tough editorial decisions, but you stunned me with your thoughtfulness and maturity every time. You taught me that giving kids control and power isn’t as risky as I’d thought.

Sam: You didn’t like me much that first month of your sophomore year. I asked you to be my accomplice with an activity for the class, though, and you rose to the occasion in a magnificent way. From that point on, I was really glad to have you on my side. You taught me to empower kids who might be surly or aggressive. Thank you.

Chris L: For nearly a year, every time you spoke it was to say something funny or to derail class. Imagine my delight in May when you volunteered an answer that was so deep, so thoughtful, that it nearly knocked me off my heels. I remember the whole class looking at you in amazement. After that, I never dismissed a student as just a class clown. I always dug deeper because I wanted to be pleasantly surprised again.

I’ve left out many challenging students from this list: D.J., David, Ashley, Joe M., Ryan P., and Tony, just to name a few. But I am grateful for the difficulties we had together and the lessons I learned from those students. The lessons those students taught me have made me into a more effective teacher. I am grateful.

I’m sure you have students who’ve made you a better teacher. Give them a shout out (no last names, please) in the comments and share the lesson you’ve learned. Are you thankful for the students and their behavior, or is it too soon?

Do you have a question for the editor? Do you have a suggestion about a blog post you’d like to read? Would you like to submit a guest post? Please e-mail me: Diane Trim, editor.

Photo credits:
Photo of the Week – Wild Turkey at Wallkill National Wildlife Refuge: U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service – Northeast Region on Flickr.com Creative Commons
Wild Turkey in display: Alan Vernon on Flickr.com Creative Commons
Meleagrus gallopavo, Wild Turkey: Tie Guy II / Bob Gutowski on Flickr.com Creative Commons
turkey [caution sign]: Slideshow Bruce / Bruce Fingerhood on Flickr.com Creative Commons
Thanksgiving Turkey: tuchodi / Gerry on Flickr.com Creative Commons
turkey sandwich (with notes) from Thanksgiving leftovers: kthread / Kristen Taylor on Flickr.com Creative Commons

Math doesn’t have to be hard. It is a tool: the tool of science and economics; the tool of problem solving and the algorithmic approach to issues. One of the many beauties of the tool is, it has been around for thousands of years, and although we find and develop new aspects, it is largely unchanged. I approach teaching math by trying to show the students that what they are learning is all within their current knowledge.

Number Sets
When I discuss number sets with the students I like to use a few analogies. I use a story about how numbers developed to discuss the natural progression of natural numbers to irrational. As I discuss each level, I like to the layer the discussion with geography: everyone in your neighborhood lives in your city, but not everyone in your city lives in your neighborhood. When I get to the final rational, irrational, real story, I link rational to the state we live in and irrational to the neighboring state. That leaves real to be the US.., no land of its own, but joining all of the states.

Adding and Subtracting Numbers or Like Terms
This seems like it should be easy; we all know our basic arithmetic, but this piece can leave more students dumbfounded and convinced that they cannot be successful in math. One big piece I highly emphasize is the idea of stacking like terms, or numbers that are being combined. When we are first introduced to math computation, we learn vertically, but once we get into algebra, not only do we add variables, we also include a horizontal approach. When the numbers are stacked, I put a rectangle around the sign. When I teach older students, especially when I taught in an urban setting, I would tell them that the rectangle was an ally. There are two rivals, the positives and the negatives. I ask them, “Are they going to party or are they going fight?” If they are the same sign, they party and we figure out how many are partying. If they end up in a battle, I ask, “Who is going to win and how many will survive?”

This topic is expanded with I discuss polynomials and multiplying them. Anyone who has survived an algebra class has heard FOIL – first, outer, inner, last. I have tried to avoid this acronym.  It is VERY limiting. It only discusses what to do if you multiply two terms to two terms, but what if there are more? It also emphasizes the horizontal approach to math versus a vertical approach, which is much more comfortable to students.

So what is the alternative? I like to reinforce the distributive property, which is what the acronym is reinforcing. I tell my students to use the “distributive property with stacking.” Distribute each term from the first parenthesis to every term in the second parenthesis and stack the like terms. It allows for easy completion of this type of problem. It also allows for flexibility of multiplying any number of terms to any number, making any problem approachable.

Math isn’t hard
Math is math. I remember my mother telling me that she could never understand Spanish; and consequently, I believed I could never learn the language. I made it through the high school requirements, and was relieved it was over with. In college I thought I would try it again, and give it a new chance. As it turned out, when I didn’t believe learning Spanish was impossible, the class became easy.

In other countries math isn’t hard because people don’t talk about it being hard. The brainwashing isn’t there. If we step back and give math a real chance, see it as a way to break problems down systematically to find a solution, it may not be the great stressor so many student see it to be.

Huckleberry Rahr taught high school mathematics for nine years throughout the Midwest and one year in Papua New Guinea. During that time, Rahr earned a Masters of Education from Cardinal Stritch University. She spent two years working in the private sector before returning to education as a full-time instructor for ITT Technical Institute in Madison, Wis. Rahr is a member of Inside the School’s editorial board.

Photo credits:
Math Class: attercop311 / Lauren on Flickr.com Creative Commons
Math Finals: ensign_beedrill / Rough Tough, Real Stuff on Flickr.com Creative Commons
for my math girl: crd! / Craig Dugas on Flickr.com Creative Commons

Over the years, my students have taught me how much lecture they can tolerate and what holds their attention the best.

1. Keep it short. My goal is to lecture for 15 minutes, tops. I try very hard to stick to one topic. If I need more time to cover more topics, I’ll spread out the lectures. When I taught on the block schedule with 84-minute class periods, I might have two 15-minute lectures in a class period, spaced out with out-of-the seat activities or small group discussions. The shorter the lecture was, the more I was able to keep my students’ attention. Some people might look at students’ short attention spans as a shortcoming, but I know that when I’m in a meeting, 15 minutes seems long to me, too.
2. Keep it focused. One of my lectures might be about how the Globe Theatre differed structurally from modern theaters. I don’t branch out into the Elizabethan world view or Shakespeare’s sources. Those are topics for another lecture. Have a clear plan for the lecture and let your students know what that plan is early on. It’s effective to use a graphic organizer as both the lecture’s outline and a student handout with blanks for guided note taking. Vary the shapes and configurations of graphic organizers for each lecture. Some students will remember the material on the organizer with arrows or the organizer with bubbles. Of course, using an outline with blanks helps reinforce outlining as a concept, too.
3. Make it personal. Even if the lecture is about polynomials, finding a connection between your students’ interests and your curriculum will make the lecture more relevant to their lives. Sure, sometimes it’s hard to make the learning personal, but the more you help your students connect the content to their prior knowledge, experience, or interests, the more they’ll retain.
4. Allow for interaction. It’s tough for a kid to nod off while you’re talking about the Civil War if you’re always asking your students for feedback or asking them quick questions. You can have them predict what the answer might be, ask them to hold fingers up in front of their shirts to vote on a response, or throw out a quick review question from a previous lesson. It’s also useful to ask students to turn to a partner and offer a 15-second (timed) summary of an important fact. If you don’t have a question to ask, just mention students by name as you lecture to increase and maintain. While you talk about eukaryotes, address a student. You might say, “So, Tyra, a eukaryote cell has complex structures within it. Those structures, Matt, are enclosed with membranes.”
5. Use visuals. People love to look at something while they listen. It’s normal and it gives the brain another pathway to remember the lecture’s information. When I lectured about Edgar Alan Poe’s “The Cask of Amontillado,” I brought in my photos of Paris’ catacombs for students to view. When we read Eugenia Collier’s short story “Sweet Potato Pie,” I brought some in for my students who had never tried it. If I were lecturing about the Scottsboro Boys and the trial’s influence on To Kill a Mockingbird, I brought in transparencies of political cartoons and photos of the men on trial. An obvious visual is the PowerPoint presentation, which can be over used. If the PowerPoint is used as a visual aid, with many photos and illustrations, but few words, students will find the slides more engaging and listen to the lecture rather than tune it out.
6. Wander the room. Free yourself from the lectern, the projector, and the front of the classroom and allow yourself to conduct your lecture while circulating among your students. If you need to write on the overhead, the chalkboard, or the interactive whiteboard, ask a student volunteer to write for you. Circulating among the students encourages them to remain on task and it makes redirection easy. Stand beside the desk of a student who wants to chat to a neighbor, silently offer a loaner pencil to a student who isn’t taking notes, and scan the crowd for covert texting. Students will become used to the idea that you can be next to them at any moment and will be more likely to pay attention to the lecture. They’re also more likely to ask you a question when you’re nearby rather than further away.

These aren’t the only ways to make a classroom lecture more interesting for students, but it’s a start. I’d love for you to share your lecture methods in the comments.

Yesterday on Twitter’s Tuesday #educhat, educators discussed student use of digital devices in the classroom. For the most part, cell phones aren’t allowed in schools; however, some schools are beginning to not only allow them, but also to encourage students to use their mobile devices in the name of learning. I had a guest post about using cell phones as clickers last year. I haven’t tried it myself, but I know that the technology works in classrooms.

I don’t have to tell you that the problem with personal digital technology in the classroom is that students use it not just as a clicker or a web search device, but also they use it to text their friends and look up answers on a test.  Sometimes they even communicate with their parents. True confession time: I have assisted my high school daughter during her study hall via both text and Facebook chat. The texting was for her biology project (recommend backyard birds for research) and the chat was for an essay (check thesis statement). It was for a legitimate educational purpose, not just gabbing, so I thought that my daughter’s cell phone use was justifiable, even though it was against school rules. (Good point for debate.)

How do we stop students from using the devices for unjustifiable uses? Bring the cell phones out of the students’ hidden pockets and onto the desktops. It’s time to start teaching students how to harness the phones’ power for education, not just for sending photos or texting about just how bored they are. Students will bring their phones with them wherever they go, despite all the rules we give them. Using the mobile devices’ allure brings our content into the 21st century and adds an engagement piece to our lesson plans.

Like the calculator, the graphing calculator, and the computer, cell phones have educational applications. Students can research statistics on the fly, record lab experiments, calculate sums, and text an answer to their teacher. Students can Tweet to their classroom’s #hashtag and post photos of their work to their class blogs. Teachers can send test reminders or a podcast lesson.

To curb student cheating with these devices, we need to teach proper use, monitor students during tests and quizzes, and provide assessments that require more than a Googled answer, a fill-in-the blank, or a darkened bubble. Authentic assessment is more labor-intensive for the teacher, but students demonstrate their knowledge in ways that are more meaningful than taking a multiple-choice test.

Cell phones aren’t going away any time soon and students will use them in class. We can choose whether that cell phone use will be overt or covert, with or without our instruction, and for an educational or recreational purpose.

What do you think about using cell phones in class? Am I nuts to advocate for their use in classrooms? Let’s not forget that I’ve been an accessory in breaking my daughter’s school cell phone use rules. How do you feel about that? I haven’t even addressed the issue of fairness – not every student will have equal access to technology. How do we level that playing field?

We butted heads two years before. I wanted Sean to turn in homework, but he didn’t want to do anything. I begged, pleaded, and called his mother when she finished waiting tables. I praised each little step Sean took in the right direction and silently gnashed my teeth when those steps didn’t turn into progress. He passed English 9, but only because I pushed and pulled him through it every day.

As a junior, Sean had mellowed and so had I. He still didn’t like to turn in homework, but he dropped the belligerent attitude. When I told him I’d have to call Cheryl, he just shrugged and told me when his mom usually took her break at the restaurant.

Getting to know Sean. One fall afternoon, I caught Sean with a magazine. In the library. To me, this was the opportunity I’d been waiting for. He’d refused to fill out a student information card with his interests and hobbies. Questions about his weekend usually had him spinning tales about spectacular car chases and unlikely bank heists. But now, I had him. He was reading a dirt bike magazine.

I took the seat next to him and asked him about dirt bikes. He tried to hold back, but he loved the sport so much that he couldn’t help himself. He told me all about how he learned to race when he was little and how he still raced. While paging through the magazine, Sean told me about the bikes he’d owned, the bikes he was working on, and the bikes he’d someday like to have. When he let slip that he was racing over the weekend, I smiled.

Attending an outside event. I called the race track to find out when Sean was racing. Instead of going to the Farmer’s Market with my husband and child, I drove out to the track, sat in the stands, and watched Sean ride. He was right: he was really good. After his event, I approached him to offer my congratulations. Once he recovered from the shock of seeing me at the track, he didn’t stop smiling. He introduced me to everyone as his favorite English teacher and told me he’d be racing later. Was I going to stay? Um. Yes. I agreed to hang around another hour if he’d explain the whole dirt bike racing thing to me.

Back in school, Sean was a different kid. I’m not going to pretend that he had a magic transformation into a straight-A student. He was a weak reader and writer and didn’t want anyone to know, but he finally allowed me to help him. He even stopped by after school for some help on days he didn’t have to work. I always asked him about his racing and he brought me photos of the bikes he was fixing. My journalism students featured him in an issue of the school newspaper and I made sure Cheryl received a copy. Sean wasn’t the kind of kid that was normally in the paper and I think he really liked it.

Recognizing student achievement in all forms. After the school newspaper ran the story about Sean and his dirt bikes, the students started to receive suggestions for stories about skiers, ballet dancers, and garage bands. It was a good lesson for the students and for me: it’s great to cover or attend traditional school events like band concerts and volleyball games. It’s even better, and more interesting, to cover or attend out-of-school events. The football players often get a shout-out in class before a game because they’re dressed in their jerseys. Choir students offer public performances. But who recognizes the local karate champ outside of the studio?

My journalism students requested a print-out of the school’s student directory, which they posted on the bulletin board. Every time the student journalists mentioned a student in print, the editor placed a hash mark next to the kid’s name. Her goal was to mention every student in the school at least once and extreme sports became a regular feature in the paper.

Spending those two hours at the dirt bike track changed the way I treated students. When I saw the football players in their jerseys, I wished them luck at their big game. Then I took an extra minute to ask my classes what other special events were happening over the weekend and I followed up with them on their success. Sometimes I’d even show up at a football game, recital, or competition. It wasn’t a bad way to spend a Saturday morning and I know that I reached students who otherwise would have shut me out.

Photo credits:
danny: veddderman on Flickr.com Creative Commons
eric: veddderman on Flickr.com Creative Commons
Poppin: TravOC / Travis on Flickr.com Creative Commons
Untitled [dirt bike race]: ragingtornado / Glenn Tremblett Flickr.com Creative Commons

We still had trouble when it came to Alicia turning in assignments. She wasn’t a fan of the day-to-day reading and writing expectations I had for my sophomore English students. She had no interest in reading nonfiction and less interest in creating plot diagrams.

Alicia’s home life was not easy. The youngest child of three kids, Alicia was left at home to raise herself and her infant nephew. Mom worked two jobs and Dad had moved out years ago. I suspect that an older sibling and possibly Mom had substance abuse problems. Making ends meet and feeding the family and the grandchild were bigger worries for Mom than Alicia’s grammar and usage corrections. Whether or not Alica did her homework or even came to school didn’t really matter much in that household.

So, what do you do when a student like Alicia isn’t turning in homework? Sure, you can give the kid a zero on the assignment. You can call home, too. But neither of these strategies would work with Alicia. I didn’t want her to fail and reinforce the idea that school was not a place for her. I wanted very much for her to succeed and to realize what a talented kid she was.

Here’s what I did:

1. No busy work. I want Alicia to understand that every assignment I give makes her a better reader or writer. All homework is important and not just time-fillers.
2. No time sinks. If I can have students meet the objectives in 10 questions rather than 20, I’ll assign 10. Alicia is more likely to complete the shorter assignment.
3. Begin in class. Even if you have only five minutes to give students to work on the assignment, do it. Build up that momentum and get questions out of the way. Alicia is more likely to complete an assignment that doesn’t confuse her.
4. Stop by. Walk around the class and observe students working. If a student seems stuck, visit them and clear up confusion. Stop by Alicia’s desk and make sure she’s on track. Touching base with her shows that you care about her progress, even if no one else does.
5. Follow up. When I saw Alicia in the hall, I’d make a point of asking her if she made any progress and whether or not she packed the homework in her bag. Again, I cared about Alicia and her homework.
6. Extend an invitation. I always kept office hours. I’d be available before school on Mondays and Wednesdays and after school on Tuesdays or Thursdays. If Alicia didn’t finish her homework, I wouldn’t assume that she was lazy or stupid. I would assume that her home life got in the way or that she was confused. Extending an invitation to visit me and work side-by-side to finish the assignment was a great way to make a personal connection, grade the work in front of her, and enter a score in the grade book.
7. Make a lunch date. Sometimes Alicia couldn’t stay after school or come early. Let’s have lunch, Alicia. If she stood me up too many times, I’d bring my tray out to her table. As much as she sort of liked me, she really didn’t want me eating lunch next to her. You can bet she didn’t stand me up for a homework lunch date too many times.
8. Call home. Of all the things that won’t do any good, calling Mom is one of the best, especially if she knows that you’ve been working hard to see Alicia succeed. If you’re the one teacher who has made a huge effort to nurture Alicia’s love of poetry and build her self-esteem, Mom’s pretty likely to listen to you. She might not do much, but at least you can mention to Alicia that you talked to Mom. Again, it shows Alicia how important you think homework is.
9. Talk to the coach. I learned early in my teaching career that talking to the coach is nearly as powerful as talking to a parent. Making sure other caring adults know about a student’s homework situation can benefit the student. Sure, the kid might have to run an extra lap or two, but the student knows you care enough to come out to the soccer field after school and follow up with the coach. It’s pretty powerful. Alicia wasn’t in sports, but she did like chorus. The chorus teacher was terrific about talking to Alicia about her homework and even sending her to me to complete a missing quiz.
10. Take an interest in the student. Sometimes kids won’t complete work in a class because they think that the teacher doesn’t really care. Find out what the student is good at, especially outside of class. Talk to her about how she babysits for her nephew and encourage her to bring in photos of him. Ask her about her favorite place to write poetry. Bring in contest entry forms for her to complete and send off her poetry. Begin the discussion about college. Students who know that you care about them as people are more likely to work in your class because they admire you and like how they feel about themselves when they’re around you.

Were these magic cures for Alicia’s homework issues in my class? Nope. It was a struggle for both of us to make sure that she turned in her work. It wasn’t a power struggle, though.  I did spend extra time on Alicia and other students like her, but I think that I benefitted, too. Alicia didn’t give me a hard time in class. I didn’t spend time disciplining her and writing referrals. Instead, I spent my time teaching, which is the whole point.

How do you handle students who don’t turn in their homework? Do you call home? Do you give zeros? Do you extend deadlines? Do you hound them in the hallways? Please share what works for you.

Photo credits:
homework: bjortklingd on Flickr.com Creative Commons
5/365: anna gutermuth on Flickr.com Creative Commons
Finals: outcast104 on Flickr.com Creative Commons
Unsure: dylancantwell / Dylan Cantwell on Flickr.com Creative Commons 

Once upon a time I was a new teacher. I had bright ideals and shiny, new lesson plans. I knew my stuff and I was ready to inspire the next generation of English 11 students.

It took me just three weeks to buy my first bag of mini-sized candy bars to use as a bribe for my students. Three more weeks and I was buying big bags of candy. Still three more weeks and the Halloween candy was on clearance.

I was five pounds heavier and my wallet was five pounds lighter.

Clearly, if I were to take home a pay check and fit into my jeans, I had to find a different way of engaging my students and encouraging their on-task behavior.

The problem was that the candy worked so well. I know all the arguments against it: obesity, nut allergies, sugar, and expense.

I weaned my students off Snickers and started offering a bit of free time at the end of class as a reward. Just a minute here and a minute there; I’d learned not to give out too many candy bars or too much free time. If the students did well on a quiz, I’d give ‘em a minute. If they made it through the class period with no major behavioral problems, they could earn a minute, too.

The students chose whether to spend their minute that day or bank it for a Friday. If they banked enough time, they might be able to have a popcorn party or leave 30 seconds early from class (with principal approval).

As I reflect back on the candy bar bribes and the minute rewards, I wonder to myself: is there really a difference between the two? Is a bribe different from a reward or is it just semantics?

That’s my question for you today: is a bribe ever O.K.? Is it different from a reward? What sorts of rewards work in your classroom? What kinds of rewards backfire spectacularly? Please leave your experiences in the comments.

Photo credits:
Dolphin’s dinner: Zemlinki! on Flickr.com Creative Commons
Dolphin!: purpleslog / Purple Slog on Flickr.com Creative Commons