Posted in Advice for rookies, Classroom management, Discipline

Chapter 69: Notes

One of my favorite behavior management strategies is to send out handwritten notes on pretty cards with no return address. Most of the time, the notes are good news: I write to parents when their kids have improved their grades, worked hard on a project, been unusually kind to a classmate, etc.

Every now and then, the notes are less pleasant. If I have warned a kid to settle down in class multiple times, with no sign of improvement, I’ll send a little message to the child’s parents, letting them know that we have an ongoing behavior issue that needs to be addressed at home.

Here are the keys that make this system so effective:

  1. I send out far more positive notes than negative. Within the first month of school, I try to send every child’s family a note praising something about the child. This gets the parent on my side and makes it far more difficult for a kid to pull the “my teacher is just picking on me because she hates me” card if I have to send out a critical note later.
  2. Even my critical notes have an upbeat tone. Whenever I send a note asking a parent to help address a behavior issue, I praise the child’s good qualities, express concern for the child’s future, and spin the misbehavior into a potential asset (e.g., incessantly cutting up in class = wonderful sense of humor). Most people aren’t going to get defensive if a teacher says, “I care about your kid and want him to be successful, which is why I’m asking you to help me channel his gifts in a more productive direction.”
  3. I make the notes virtually impossible to intercept. They come without warning, on cute stationery, with no return address. They are always handwritten, but I always switch up the lettering style on the envelopes; the colors of the envelopes; and the ZIP codes from which I send the notes. It’s hard to intercept a letter if you don’t know it’s coming and can’t tell it’s a note from your teacher because it looks like a random greeting card. (My favorite was a fun little Halloween card I picked up at Walmart one night and sent to a guardian whose grandsons were failing English because they refused to do any work. She found the incongruity between the card and its contents absolutely hilarious and happily agreed to send the boys to my next after-school makeup work session so they could get caught up.)

The snitch notes are useful, but the real power lies in the positive notes. I’ve had parents call me to tell me that I’m the only teacher who has ever reached out to them to tell them something good about their child. I’ve had kids message me on social media several years after graduation to share pictures of the notes I sent to their parents, which have turned into cherished keepsakes. And I’ve seen notorious troublemakers straighten up and apply themselves in my class once they realized I cared enough to make them look good to their parents.

I really need to spend more time writing notes to parents. The payoff is always worth the investment of time.

Posted in Advice for rookies, Cross-curricular instruction, Differentiated instruction, Instructional design

Chapter 60: A Word of Caution

Good grief. Has it really been two years since I last updated? Sorry about that; I plead grad school and licensure dossier.

Over the past couple of years, I’ve spent a lot of time mentoring younger teachers, coordinating cross-curricular projects, and working with prefabbed materials to try to save time, streamline my planning, optimize lessons for remote delivery, etc., etc., etc. Here is a thing I know:

You cannot trust prefabbed materials.

Every prepackaged curriculum has gaps. Even a comprehensive package will lose pieces over time. If your district has been using a particular curriculum for more than a year or two, it is probably safe to assume that you are missing at least one significant tool. Maybe your teacher’s manual never found its way to you and is instead on display in the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign on the door saying “Beware of the Leopard.” Maybe the district decided to save money by skimping on consumables, so you don’t have a full class set of whichever workbook you’re supposed to have. Maybe the program itself ignores the importance of differentiation, so it won’t work for the kid who is reading three years below grade level or can’t remember his multiplication tables or transferred in from another state in the middle of a semester or [insert obstacle here].

Most of us are aware of this problem, so we supplement. If we have time, we sit down, comb through the next unit, figure out what’s missing, and create materials to fill the gaps. If we don’t have time, we grab whatever we can find at Lakeshore Learning or Teachers Pay Teachers or wherever we like to buy stuff for our classrooms, and we poke it into the holes in hopes that it will keep the wind from howling in through the cracks.

It’s OK to do that. You are under zero obligation to create every single assignment from scratch. But if you’re going to use prefabbed materials, you owe it to your students to curate those materials carefully and make sure that A.) they actually do what you need them to do, and B.) they don’t give conflicting directions or information.

This time of year is crazy, and we’re all in survival mode. I get it. I do. I’m writing this post because I started a cross-curricular project with three colleagues and completely failed to vet their materials before tossing them on Google Classroom. My students and I are now living with the ensuing chaos, and I have no one to blame but myself. Reading all the materials and talking to colleagues about how to reconcile the conflicts would have completely eliminated this problem and spared my kids a lot of stress. They deserve better from me, and you can bet they’ll get it next time.

Learn from my mistakes. Vet your materials, and make modifications as needed. Investing a few minutes now can save you and your kids a lot of time and heartache later.

Posted in Advice for rookies, Background, Office politics, Professionalism

Chapter 30: Professional Relationships

This is my boss. She and I get along well. Part of that has to do with her: She understands what I’m trying to do, honors most of my requests, and doesn’t lose her mind if we disagree occasionally. Part of it has to do with me: I understand what she’s trying to do, honor most of her requests, and don’t lose my mind if we disagree occasionally.

This balance is simple, but it requires some effort. Some people won’t talk to administrators unless they’re in trouble. That’s a recipe for disaster. I’m not saying y’all need to be BFFs, but if you chat with your building administrator regularly, you’ll understand each other better when conflicts arise.

Continue reading “Chapter 30: Professional Relationships”