PART III: The Four Mistaken Goals of the Discouraged Child

 2. A Struggle For Power

Misunderstanding unpacked: "I only have value if I prove my own value by refusing to cooperate with the teacher and/or the classroom and its norms." 

 

Teachers who frame classroom management in terms of compliance/non-compliance are inviting a failure of classroom community. For one thing, there are 36 of them and only one of me. But more importantly, it is a missed opportunity to create the context in which a discouraged child can come to view herself as a community member.

 

As Dreikurs says, 

It is a grave mistake to try to overpower a power-drunk child. It is also futile. In the ensuing battle, which becomes chronic, the child merely develops greater skill in using [their] power and finds greater reason to feel worthless unless [they] can demonstrate it.  (Dreikurs, page 61)

 

Most teachers have heard that they shouldn't engage in a power struggle, but side-stepping the challenge to a power struggle activates reactions that run deep. In addition, if the child's intention is to assert power, any "attempts to make [them] stop only intensify [their] disturbing behavior." (Dreikurs, page 62). Resistance is easier said that done.

 

What I have found most effective is to build the habit of noticing within myself whenever a student is trying to engage me in a power contest. The secret is to notice the internal trigger, name it, and refrain from reacting with the conditioned habit they are trying to generate. 

 

It takes practice. I find myself mentally chanting, Notice... and refrain... notice... and refrain. 

 

And it works. This is the fastest way I know to defuse the power struggle most of the time.

 

A couple of notes. The first is, this doesn't mean there are no natural or logical consequences. There definitely are. And one of the things our students are learning is how to function in society. 

 

For example, one always has the power to not do one's tax returns, but then there are consequences. Some of those consequences are serious. But teachers should always avoid making the mistake of believing that we have to be the personal, immediate, and traceable agent of every consequence a student will ever encounter. That's just not sustainable, and teachers need to be in this work for the long haul.

 

If a student doesn't submit an assignment that is due, I simple place a zero in the gradebook with a comment that late work is always accepted, but is subject to a one-point late fee. Zeroes are erasable. Basically, it's the same as doing your taxes. Shit happens, and sometimes you have to turn things in late. If you learn to plan ahead, there's no late fee. The point is for the student to learn how to meet their deadlines and manage their life's competing obligations. Don't make it into a big deal. Think of yourself as the government agency in charge of tracking and reflecting students' work.

 

This year I encountered a weird new manifestation of this power struggle. Along with all the teachers at my school, I use Google Classroom as my CMS (Classroom Management System). My policy on homework is to simply check it in as the basic routine step. I ask students to turn in their homework by uploading a photo of the first page of their handwritten work. This is the honor system. Most students most of the time turn in a photo of their own detailed handwritten work as evidence of their effort. Since homework for me is only a record of deliberate practice with metacognitive self-reflection, this is enough. I can tell from students' Burning Questions the next day how deeply they have engaged with the work, and this gives me the formative assessment info I need to adapt my instruction.

 

Only later -- if there's a problem -- or occasionally -- as a spot check -- do I go through students' homework submissions in more detail.

 

But this year, I got a surprise at the end of the spring semester.

 

I noticed that one student had turned in a photo of a cheeseburger with fries in place of his homework for that day. In accordance with my policy, I put a zero into the points field and typed into the comments field, "This is a picture of a cheeseburger with fries. Please upload a photo of this assignment to receive credit, minus a one-point late fee."

 

No reaction. No emotion. I just switched into functioning as the conduit of natural and logical consequences for a decision that was made.

 

Of course, this experience encouraged me to look at his other submissions for the semester. And sure enough, I had missed some other cheeseburger submissions as well. Because I am acting as a neutral agency in this regard, I changed all of the scores for those assignments to zeros and copied and pasted my same neutral instructions into the comments field. There were also photos of a sneaker, a bicycle, and photos of somebody else's homework with their name printed at the top. I modified all scores for these and copied my neutral instructions into the comments field. Zero, zero, zero. 

 

Naturally, the student's grade started dropping precipitously, which finally prompted them to come up to me and apologize for the huge clerical mistake they had made. They asked if they could resubmit these homeworks. "Of course!" I told them. "That's the whole idea!"

 

In this case, the natural consequence of having to redo all those homework assignments was the need to spend time redoing them all -- knowing that I would look them over far more carefully than I might have done before, and also that I might discover even more phony assignments. 

 

A valuable lesson was received and integrated with far less conflict and more face-saving than if I had become emotionally activated. The lesson for me was, Don't bite the hook.

 

There were other students who had done the same thing as well, and I treated everybody who had done so with the most consistent standard of fairness I know. One student, who actually submitted photos of a table mate's work was horrified to learn that I'd sent that table mate and their parents an email notifying them that somebody else had been submitting photos of their work and that in California, this is considered academic cheating under the Education Code and would be a serious offense. Then the student learned that I'd sent an email to them and to their parents as well about the situation. 

 

Most students are good people. But they are also adolescents and they make ridiculous choices and mistakes. The horror for those two students of being caught out and unmasked for their parents was far more powerful than any rage-based consequence I could have meted out in the heat of emotion. And these two students both digested powerful lessons about the consequences of not living up to their own responsibilities. They each apologized to me personally and it was clear that they're not going to do this again. They were also grateful for the grace they were shown. 

 

Never argue with a power-drunk teenager. Find ways to notice and name the power move that don't jeopardize the underlying relationship between you unless you have absolutely no other option.

 

Our job is to support students in learning to rise to the occasion.

PART II: The Four Mistaken Goals of the Discouraged Child

 The Four Mistaken Goals of the Discouraged Child

 What I love most about Dreikurs' psychology is his clarity about boundaries -- both the parent's and the child's. By putting courage and encouragement at the center of his framework, he centers the child's development and the adult's cultivation of strengths and belongingness, not of weaknesses or deficits and punishment. As he says, 

Parental love is best demonstrated through constant encouragement toward independence. We need to start this at birth and to maintain it all through childhood. It is made manifest by our faith and confidence in the child as he is at each moment. It is an attitude which guides us through all the daily problems and situations of childhood. Our children need courage. Let us help them to develop and keep it. (Dreikurs, p. 55)

This framework applies just as much to the teacher's role in the classroom as it does to the parent's role at home. Applying his framework to my classroom management has been a lifesaver and an opportunity to generate meaningful connections.

 The centrality of courage in Dreikurs' model reframes misbehaviors in a constructive and workable way. For Dreikurs, it is important for adults to understand that the child who is misbehaving or not cooperating in some fundamentally important way is the opposite of encouraged -- this child is discouraged. In Dreikurs' framing, misbehavior is the manifestation of discouragement. The genius of this insight cannot be overstated. Discouragement is a workable condition -- one from which a child can heal and reconnect with the social fabric of belonging. 

For this reason, Dreikurs invested an enormous amount of energy in his research into understanding what it means for a discouraged child to be discouraged. Through this research, he identified what he called the "four mistaken goals" of the discouraged child. Understanding these mistaken goals makes it possible for an adult to learn appropriate, insightful, and very creative methods of responding that will redirect the discouraged child into a more productive approach to finding belongingness.

The four mistaken goals of the discouraged child can be summed up as follows:

1.     undue or excessive attention-seeking

2.     a struggle for power

3.     escalation of the power struggle into the pursuit of revenge and retaliation

4.     shutting down and giving up as a form of self-protection against further discouragement

Even though these are dysfunctional strategies for dealing with discouragement, they deserve acknowledgment for how brilliant and resourceful they are. But they are dysfunctional and we can help students to do better, both for themselves and for the whole classroom community. And this is where the framework of the four mistaken goals of the discouraged child offers highly effective ways of helping students find their way back into healthy belonging and connection.

I want to emphasize that understanding these categories isn't a panacea. Nothing will be instantaneous. But Dreikurs' methods provide a sane, bounded, and healthy lens through which to understand what is going on with these students and to reflect on meaningful ways to address it.

Here's how I experience these in my math classroom.

1. Undue Attention-Seeking

Misunderstanding unpacked: "I only have value if I receive individual one-on-one -- and often immediate -- attention from the teacher." This can take a few different forms. 

During collaborative mathematical group work (using Complex Instruction or other approaches), the student who insists on turning away from their table group and receiving help directly from the instructor is seeking undue attention. This is the reason why we keep returning to the Complex Instruction rule of "only whole-group questions" to the instructor. Part of what students are learning during mathematical group work is self-reliance and peer-reciprocal-reliance. Students are also building their capacities for executive function, self-regulation, and impulse control. Our goal for students is to help them become self-confident, independent, and self-directed learners. They are learning how to look inward to construct their own answers using the best tools and ideas they know, and to engage in positive, pro-social, and interdependent analyses and investigations when they run out of their own personal knowledge. We want them to learn how to exhaust their team's collective resources first before reaching out to the teacher because this is how healthy adults function in the outer world. This is a very different approach to authority than younger children take, because students' self-actualization learning goals are as important as their mathematical learning goals.

The purpose of the "only whole-group questions to the teacher" rule is to build a healthy student fluency in independent thinking, problem-solving, and self-regulation

Another way I encounter undue attention-seeking is during unstructured group work or classwork. When students run out of runway, I encourage them to come up and ask their questions. Over the years, I have become a master at asking questions that elicit the student's thinking and at crafting the tiniest possible hint I can provide. My goal is to help them access the framework they have and to give them a little boost that can help them break through their stuckness and get them moving to the next level. 

There are healthier and less healthy ways that students try to use this kind of access. The unhealthy ways of approaching this that spill over into undue attention-seeking occur when a student plops themselves down and tries and monopolize as much time and attention as they can access from me. This is where gentle redirection is so important. I tell them I will only dispense one hint or piece of help at a time, but I invite them to come back with their next stuck point as many times as they need to. I reinforce that they're welcome to come back with their next question if they need it. 

I try not to allow any one student to monopolize access to me as a classroom resource. This is part of building trust and also of building classroom community and positive interdependence. In my 7th block class this past spring, a new piece of classroom culture emerged, in which students talked openly about "sharing the wealth." The student who had come over to ask for help on, say, problem 11, became a kind of shared community resource. Another table would call this person over to ask for guidance and they would confer and share insights -- never simply doing the problem for each other. 

This was far and away the greatest high point of my teaching year.

Week 1 - "very much like being shot out of a cannon" #MTBoSBlaugust

Week 1 is in the can and I wanted to blog one of my best ideas from my first week back.

I should start out by saying that Week 1 was very much like being shot out of a cannon — much more so than usual. My classes this year are huge — 36, 37, or 38 students per class — but my room is the smallest in the school. So it took a lot of clever angling and arranging to ensure that we could have enough desks in the room and that everybody could more or less see from their given position in the room. I always mark on the floor with a Sharpie so that it's easier to put the desk clusters back into their optimal positions. Once upon a time, I would have considered this a form of vandalism, but now...? Hey, that's just common sense.

SEATING CHART MANAGEMENTI had a major conceptual breakthrough with seating charts this August. I always use OmniGraffle to set up my basic seating chart/management chart template that I use on my clipboard to take attendance and make notes. This year, it occurred to me: instead of using those stupid little name card tags with names to make a wall chart (which takes up an unreasonable amount of time), why not just make a board with a sheet of vinyl across to hold blank copies of the week's seating charts?

So now, I  can just print off two copies of my updated charts — one for my clipboard and one for the wall pockets. And voilá! Easy to change the seats around.

The stapled blob of paper charts makes it super-easy to make notes about collaboration or mathematical successes during group work. It also makes it easy to enter attendance on the computer each class because I just look for the 0s or 1s. My scribbled comments make it easy to enter "Professionalism" scores or comments, or to send e-mails to students or families. My working copy of charts gets stapled together and placed on my clipboard. When the week is over, I archive it in a big binder.

[visualize the dazzling photo of my wall chart that will be posted here on Monday]

There's a lot more to say about Week 1, but I'm still recuperating. More soon!

Hey, Megan, Here's my
handouts hanger in situ!

Surfacing and studying studying misconceptions via Talking Points

In a class of 36 students, where it can be, shall we say, difficult for me to do formative assessment on every student every day, the Talking Points structure gives me a great way to surface and deal with student misconceptions by getting students to surface, discuss, and correct them.

Par example...

Our sequencing for Geometry has gotten totally screwy this year because of some new district requirements around the Common Core. Having learned how to do all of the basic constructions, we are now finally approaching the unit test on parallel lines and their angles. There are so many possible errors in understanding that can happen around these, I wanted to create a group work activity to address them. I also want to change groups up this week, so I am using this as community-building as well.

I've discovered it is a good idea to weave together community-building statements, growth mindset statements, metacognitive self-monitoring statements, and Always / Sometimes / Never statements. The Talking Points structure lets me accomplish multiple goals simultaneously, which is something I need to do with such big classes.

An editable version of this set of Talking Points is on the Group Work Working Group (#GWWG14) wiki page on the TMC14 wiki.

Attending to Precision: INBs and group work (Interactive Notebooks)

I love new beginnings, but I am only so-so with early middles. Now that kids have started their INB journey, we've arrived at that crucial moment between the beginning and the first INB check. This, as the saying goes, is where the rubber meets the road.

I find that kids never understand at this stage why I insist on being so darned nit-picky about their notebooks. Every day someone new asks me why this or that HAS to go on the right-hand side or EXACTLY on page 5.

One of the many reasons why this is important, I have learned, is that it is all about teaching strategies for attending to precision — Mathematical Practice Standard #6, which is defined this way in the standards documents:

Mathematically proficient students try to communicate precisely to others.• They try to use clear definitions in discussion with others and in their own reasoning.When making mathematical arguments about a solution, strategy, or conjecture (see MP.3), mathematically proficient elementary students learn to craft careful explanations that communicate their reasoning by referring specifically to each important mathematical element, describing the relationships among them, and connecting their words clearly to their representations. They state the meaning of the symbols they choose, including us- ing the equal sign consistently and appropriately.• They are careful about specifying units of measure,• and labeling axes to clarify the correspondence with quantities in a problem.• They calculate ac- curately and efficiently, express numerical answers with a degree of precision appropriate for the problem context. In the elementary grades, students give carefully formulated explanations to each other. By the time they reach high school they have learned to examine claims and make explicit use of definitions. 

The problem, I find, is that this description of precision is precise only at the theoretical level. On the front lines, it's unrealistic because most kids never get to this level of precision.

And that is because their notes and their work are generally quite a mess.

A big part of teaching students to attend to precision is giving them a structure for being an impeccable warrior as a math student — that is to say, taking and keeping good notes, noticing and keeping track of your own progress as a learner, preserving your homework in a predictable place that is not, let us say, the very bottom of your backpack, crushed into a handful of loose raisins.

It means stepping up your game as a student of mathematics and presenting your work in a way that makes it possible for others to notice the care with which you are specifying units, crafting careful explanations, describing relationships, and so on. And it means presenting your work in this way ALWAYS — in all things, in all times, wherever you go.

INBs are an incredibly low-barrier-to-entry, accessible structure for teaching attention to precision. There are no students who cannot benefit from having a clear, common, and predictable structure for organizing their learning. INBs are also a great leveler. For those of us who are focused on creating equity in our classrooms, INBs offer all students a chance to prove both to themselves and others that they are indeed smart in mathematics. As I saw the other night at Back To School Night, my strongest note-keeping students are rarely the top students computationally speaking. But they are the ones who can always find what they are looking for — a major advantage on an open-notes test.

INBs are also a phenomenal formative assessment tool. Flipping through a students INB gives me an incredible snapshot of where and when they were truly attending to precision and where they were fuzzing out. Blank spaces and lack of color or highlighter on specific notes pages give me a targeted spot for further formative assessment. In my experience, it is exceedingly rare for a student who thoroughly understands a topic to write no notes or diagrams on that page. If anything, they are the ones who are most likely to appreciate the chance to consolidate their understanding.

So I am sticking with it and zooming in on some of the areas where kids' understanding fell apart last week. We'll be reviewing how to convert from percentages to decimals and how to document and analyze the iterative process of calculating compound interest because that is where my students' notes fell apart.

I'll be astonished — but will report back honestly — if these on-the-fly assessments prove to have been inaccurate.