Joanne Jacobs writes about an endless debate--should you be nice to kids or follow the "Don't smile until Christmas" method?
It's tough to say. Actually, I'd say you need to treat different kids differently. I'm always nice to kids who are cooperative, but I'll go out of my way to make life inconvenient for anyone who gives me a hard time. Kids need to know there are consequences for their actions in school, both positive and negative, and whatever it takes, it's our job to make sure they do.
She then makes a point comparing public schools to a charter she started, which got me thinking:
When I was reporting for Our School, which is about a turnaround charter school aimed at underperforming Mexican-American students, kids always said, “Teachers here care about me.” They were willing to care if they perceived the teachers cared. Teachers were strict in demanding good behavior and hard work, but the kids saw that as caring. It’s a lot harder to create that dynamic in a large school that lacks a unifying mission.
Here's how I responded:
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I still feel that way, but I started thinking a lot about the concept of a "unifying mission." Unifying mission or no, I'd probably manage my classes very similarly. But as I walk down the halls of our crammed to the rafters building, I often observe the deans telling kids to take their hats off, turn off their radios, and straighten up and fly right. The kids, walking right in front of me, move about ten feet before putting their hats back on, turning on their radios, unstraightening themselves and flying incorrectly.
Now I'm rushing to class, and I honestly have neither the time nor the inclination to deal with these kids, none of whom I remotely know. My experience in hall patrol has taught me that what the AP Security's office most desires is to be left alone, and that they're unlikely to issue even a slap on the wrist to anyone I bring in. So honestly, why should I bother?
If the administration were willing to strongly enforce its rules, and back up teachers who help, it would be one thing. But in the real world, I'll deal with the kids in my class, all of whom know their problems in my class will follow them home, due to my efforts (and those of a loose team of translators I've assembled through the years).
Personally, I like teaching in a regular public school. But while the chancellor cries that all incidents must be reported, merit-pay for principals hinges on as few of them seeing the light of day as possible.
And while I may control things in my saloon, once the customers step outside those swinging doors, it's the Wild West all over again.