Child development stories

Things kids bring to class. Life, early years and classroom management.

by

This entry was initially a post on Facebook a year or so ago but the list has got longer and more interesting since. What’s more, what started as ‘a page in the photo album’, almost, with time turned into a reflection on professional life, early years development and its impact on the EFL methodology.

Based on one million true stories. Enjoy?

These are the things that my students brought to their offline or online classes:

  • a dead ladybird, handed to me already in the R.I.P state, as the most precious treasure AND a present
  • ten plastic jungle animals (all of which participated actively in learning and practising of the new vocabulary)
  • a bunch of toy dragons (which were not ‘angry dragons’, as I was assured)
  • a toy lion (also very active, answering questions and all that)
  • a toy parrot, Pepsi (Pepsi always asked for her own homework handout and always did her homework)
  • baby brothers and sisters who wandered in and stayed
  • Pasha, the invisible student
  • a few cats (purring loudly, only online, though, sadly)
  • a puppy (running in and out)
  • a hamster
  • a plastic shotgun (very realistic, online, yay)
  • a toy hen (came to visit and befriend our puppet Angelina, also a hen)
  • a broom, Harry Potter-style, wood, twigs and all
  • a cape, Harry Potter-style
  • a set of cars from the collection
  • flowers growing around (online, of course) and, inevitably, …
  • a cow, grazing around (online, of course)
  • the entire vegetable garden, toured via laptop
  • a snail in a jar (online, thank God)
  • a sling
  • flowers, real, plastic and paper
  • slime
  • a turn-on/turn-off blinking tiara
  • a half-eaten bread roll
  • a birthday cake with no prior warning
  • a bag of candy to celebrate birthdays, with no prior warning
  • a huge alarm clock
  • a piggy bank
  • and, to finish on the high note, the Black Sea with ships included (in the background of an online lesson)

Why does it matter?

We could look at all these from the angle of the teacher. This teacher is anxious, because, most likely, all these toys and animals will be a nuisance….As a source of excitement (for the owner and for everyone who will want to look and touch and play), a source of annoyance (for the owner, because even the well-meant attention might get unbearable after a while), a source of drama (because toys get lost or misplaced, sometimes), or, simply – a source of distraction. And, if anything can be said about a teacher of very young learners is that they do not need any additional elements that might, potentially, tilt the balance or make waves in the classroom. There is enough, as it it, by default. And that does depend on whether the teacher is experienced or not, working with a group or with individual students, online or offline.

That is why, on seeing yet another dinosaur in the doorway, the teacher sighs, trying to go over all the implications and the impact that the dinosaur’s might have event in the following forty-five minutes. However, this is a very quiet sigh, well-hidden behind a smile and another ‘Oh, wow!’ A very quiet sigh, indeed.

But there are also the kids’ angle. There’s been a birthday or a no-occasion present from gran, an item found in the park, a random and unexpected encounter. There is, finally, an opportunity to show the teacher and the rest of the group, all the treasures and ‘treasures’ that normally stay at home and that mum or gran or nanny stubbornly refuse to carry to school and back, just for the display purposes and which, finally, can be presented to the whole world (as one of the very few bonuses of studying online). Because it is important, right here, right now. Even if to the outside world it looks like a piece or unimportant junk.

For that reason, the kids entering the classroom, will be far from sighing. On the contrary, there will be a lot of joyful feet stomping, the pleasant adrenaline rush, excited whispers in the line in front of the classroom door and then, inevitably, a presentation by a proud and triumphant owner who, for the time being and for the next few minutes, is ruling the world.

The title of ‘The Most Dramatic Entry’ …

…and a proper showcase and a case study that I often present to my trainees, belongs to one big birthday cake, full of cream, sugar and chocolate that was grandiosely marched in, at the heels of a Sasha boy who was turning six on the day. Three minutes before the lesson, without any prior warning, agreement, permission.

You know how they say ‘his heart sank‘? Mine really did, no metaphors. Of course, it was a big day for Sasha. Of course, his mum wanted to include us in the celebrations. Of course, she meant well. Of course, Sasha and all the other kids were ecstatic. I am not a robot myself, I like cake! BUT.

I had three minutes to make a decision and here are the three options that I was considering:

a) Ask the mum to take the cake away. Meaning: Sasha is heartbroken (reason: the teacher is a witch who forbids him to enjoy his day), the mum is offended (reason: see above), the kids are upset (reason: see above), the lesson is in shreds (reason: nobody can focus anyway)

b) Put the cake away on the window-sill and celebrate at the end of the lesson. Meaning: Sasha is distracted (reason: the cake is on the window-sill, this is the only thing that he is capable of thinking of, also probably with time, the classroom fills with the smell of cake), the kids are distracted (reason: see above), the teacher is distracted (reason: see above), the lesson is in shreds (reason: nobody can focus anyway).

c) Eat the cake. Meaning: Sasha is happy and way too energetic (reason: sugar levels are through the roof), the kids are happy and way too energetic (reason: see above), the teacher is in trouble (reason: other parents will complain to the school about the stranger feeding their kids random foods, but at this point the teacher doesn’t know that yet, it is all to happen in the evening and on the following day), the lesson is in shreds (reason: too much sugar, too much energy and the festivities taking place in the start of the lesson. No matter what the teacher prepared for the day (Try to predict THIS in your ‘anticipated problems and solutions’), nothing is going to be able to come even close to the cake. Sigh).

Now, dear reader, please, pause for a minute. Faced with that dilemma, what would you do, I wonder?

I guess, I did know straight away what we would do, I went through the hoops of considering all the other options only to be able to say that I did try to be a reasonable and cool-headed professional. We ate the cake and we sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to Sasha.

Then I tried to save what was left of my lesson and in the following week, I kept myself busy sorting out the complaint from the parents.

Not sure what I would do today, and with my current groups and parents. Maybe it would not even be a problem because, by now, we have managed to negotiate an accepted list of potential English lesson snacks and we always celebrate with Kinder, Barnie and this one brand of juice. It is some kind of achievement, too, I suppose, that when the birthday surprise bags were brought into the classroom I did manage to pull off the ‘let’s-put-it-on-the-top-shelf-we’ll-open-the-bag-when-we-say-goodbye‘ stunt. It might be because I am more experienced and because a more effective set of rules and routines is in place. Perhaps, it’s because we have known each other for a bit longer than with the other group. Perhaps all three?

What to do and what not to do?

Luckily, not all the situations are as dramatic as the Dreaded Cake Day but the teacher still sighs when the (plastic) dinosaurs are arriving.

‘No toys in the classroom‘ is one of the options, of course, especially if agreed previously with the parents, carefully discussed and explained. And with time, children get used to the fact that even if the teddy (or the banana) come to school, they stay in the hallway.

‘Bring it on‘ is another. Turning the tendency into a part of the classroom routine might benefit the lesson and the kids. Bringing toys (or else) can be an opportunity to produce the language as even the youngest kids can answer the questions such as ‘What is it?’, ‘What colour is it?’, ‘What can you do with it?’, ‘Why do you like it?’…

‘They are sleeping‘ could also be an approach. If you have a table or a shelf, all the toys could be welcomed, interacted with and then, after having been granted the permission from the owner, left in this one special place. I am sure that they are tiny and very very tired. Ideally this place is out of reach but visible to everyone (especially the owner:-) and this way, the precious things are there, visible but out of the way.

The shameful thing is, perhaps, the fact that I got bored with both of these approaches. We used to have a beautiful poster in the hallway, in English and in Russian about toys staying behind, but to be honest, I was really more interested in all the treasure (and how a piece of real junk can become ‘my precious’). But I am not into cutting a piece of the lesson every single time and devoting it to random guests, either. Instead, we just mix and match. We always inspect the new arrivals and we look at them (in awe). Sometimes we have a little chat, sometimes not. Sometimes we put them away and sometimes they join as in the circle, to sing a song. Sometimes they play the games with us (which means twice as much production, YAY) but sometimes they don’t and they are just picked up later, already half-forgotten, at good-byes. I guess, I might call it the ‘Go with the flow‘ approach. And this what I preach at the moment.

I will happily blame the pandemic for that attitude. I rule in my little kingdom but it is easier said than done in the online classroom. On the one hand, it is a definite advantage that all these distractors do not physically invade the classroom . On the other hand, no physical presence means no actual control and, there is a lot more potential for the unexpected. No matter how good your lesson planning skills are, try predicting that a student of yours will be sitting outside, in the field, and that cows will be walking past and that, they, too, will become a part of your lesson!

Happy teaching!

P.S. Don’t forget to check out the wonderful directory of all the useful things in the VYL world created by Sandy Millin. You can find it here.

The Spiderman Story. CCQ-ing pre-school?

by

Really, the whole story is between me and a pair of blue, three-year-old eyes. The world around does exist, of course, and the world around is watching, with curiosity, but not really participating.

‘Spider’, I say.

‘Spiderman’, he says.

‘Spider’, I repeat, pointing at the spider flashcard.

‘Spiderman’, he repeats, as if not noticing.

‘Spider’, I say, yet again.

‘Spiderman’, he says and, I’d swear, he nods, too.

***************

The blue eyes belong to a little Sasha who is quite young, true, but who feels empowered and a lot more confident than any other typical three-year-old might have been in any relatively new environment. It is because this little Sasha never walks alone, he has his older sister as the source of his superpower. He is pretty much fearless. That is why he gets into this, well, debate.

The conditions are perfect. It is a warm May afternoon, the summer is round the corner, and the audience are waiting for some entertainment. After all, the parents have come to see what the kids can do and what the teacher is teaching them. Everyone is present, all the children and all the parents. The teacher is there and even the trainee teacher. Who could have wished for more?

Sasha is not doing it on purpose. One of the most important words in his life now is ‘Spiderman‘ and it does resemble something that the teacher is saying. It feels like a cool game to recite it, together with the teacher, well, almost ‘recite’ it. Sasha continues to play.

He doesn’t see how the world freezes waiting for any reaction. He notices that his teacher’s face has become a bit tense but he does not think that it might have anything to do with the new game. He wouldn’t know that the teacher’s blood pressure is slowly going up because of what is happening and what is happening is this: a student making a mistake and the teacher not correcting him, fossilising the error for the years to come and this little boy confusing the little eight-legged creature with a superhero.

It might be that the parents have not even noticed or realised. It might be that the parents have found it to be funny, too. In the teacher’s head, however, the world is crumbling and the teacher is failing, despite all her experience.

Ideally, the teacher would have just waved two flashcards to illustrate the difference. Only, of course, there were no Spiderman flashcards just lying around.

***********

‘Now, Sasha, spider – Spiderman’, I say. Again.

‘Spiderman’, he says, smiling, probably thinking that I have finally managed to learn the right word. I smile, too.

‘Sasha, listen. Spiderman is a boy. Yes or no?’, I say.

‘Yes’, says Sasha.

‘Mhm. And Spiderman is big or small?’ I ask.

‘Big’, said Sasha, looking at the teacher with curiosity.

‘Right’, I say. And then I ask, raising the spider flashcard. ‘Is THIS big?’

‘No’, said Sasha.

‘Is it a boy?’ goes the next question.

Sasha looks up from the flashcard, he looks at the teacher and smiles.

‘No’, he says, and you, know

‘No’, said Sasha and, you know, the teacher would swear, something sparks up in Sasha’s three-year-old eyes.

‘Exactly. Look. Spider – Spiderman’, I say, once again pointing at the spider flashcard, also adding gestures ‘small’ and ‘big’ ..

‘Spider’, says Sasha, pointing at the flashcard. And then he adds: ‘Spiderman’

***********

Victory? Probably. A memorable moment? Absolutely.

In hindsight, also a bit of revelation that a little adrenaline rush and, all of a sudden, it turns out that it is possible to use CCQs, concept check questions, with very young pre-schoolers who are somewhere in the pre-A1 level. I had never thought it would be possible but, hey, there you go. When there’s a will, there is a way? Aka the games my brain likes to play.

Happy teaching!

‘Are you a girl or a lion?’

by

Friday, twenty minutes before the start of the lesson. Two of the girls (5 and 6 y.o.) remember about the amazing game they played about a month ago and, immediately, decide to play it again. There is only one rule in the game: to follow the teacher around the school, as she gets ready and fixes the last bits before the lesson and to say ‘I’m hungry. I will eat you‘ to which the teacher offers various things to eat (‘Do you like books?’, ‘Do you like markers?’), *) to which you have to answer ‘No. I’m hungry but I only eat people‘. And you roar. A lot. The other kids are arriving gradually, the hallway is filling up with parents, grandparents, nannies and brothers and sisters.

Friday, five minutes before the lesson. The lion game is getting better by the minute so now there are four lions running around (Did I mention running before?) and roaring. And, believe it or not, four lions roaring make a lot of noise. It’s not that we pretend that kids are made of sugar and they are always sweet and quiet and picture perfect. Kids are kids and they should be but the teacher picking up the flashcards and taking the last sip of water in the teachers’ room thought, briefly, of an avalanche of noise and ‘unwanted behaviour’. The lions did not really care, they were having lots of fun.

Friday, 2 minutes before the lesson. The teacher is ready and is collecting the group to start the lesson properly. Alas. The lions are roaring, more and more loudly. ‘Let’s go!’ (Roar). ‘Please, stop’ (Roar roar), ‘OK, everyone, 10, 9, 8, 7…(Roar roar roar).

The teacher suddenly understands that she is not in the hallway of the school but on the edge of the cliff, on a windy day, on an empty stomach hence double dizzy. The lions do not like those lions that might calm down any time soon. The parents, grandparents and nannies have raised their eyes. The security guard, too, came out into the hallway and was observing the almost-mayhem in the hallway. The remaining 120 seconds should be used to re-introduce the order. The order should be sturdy enough to last sixty minutes of the lesson which is about to start.

You could say that’s not an ideal situation…

***********************

There were four things that I could do.

a) do nothing – not recommended, even if only because of those sixty minutes in the classroom to come.

b) let someone else sort it out – not recommended, not really. True, the kids have parents but at this point in the game, I don’t think I would want them to get involved. That’s why when our security guard (that the kids know and respect) started to saying something, I just shook my head and put a hand up to stop him. This mess was my mess and I had to deal with it. I think this is something I learnt during my five years at the state school – other people might be called to help with the behaviour management but at the end of the day it is your pack and you should be considered its leader.

c) talk to the kids in their L1 and sort it out – not recommended, not really. Why? Because I never talk to them in their L1 and this was serious enough, not yet anyway, to resort to that. I decided to keep it for another day and another occasion.

d) talk to the kids in English – tricky, with 5-year-old pre-A1 crowd but this is exactly what I decided to do.

I had no idea what I was doing, really. There were no previous cases that I could rely on, no plan of action but hey, if I don’t try, I will never know…Challenge accepted.

**********************

The teacher looked at her lions, still roaring in a small circle around her.

‘Now, where are my students? I want to start the lesson. Where are my students?’, said the teacher.

‘We are not students. We are lions!’ said the lions and they roard.

‘That’s a shame.’, said the teacher, feeling how someone continues to pull the rug from under her feet. She took a deep breath. She looked at the first lion on her left.

‘Are you a girl or a lion?’ asked the teacher.

‘A lion’

‘Are you a girl or a lion?’ now the teacher asked the second lion.

‘A lion’ said that second lion, with a beautiful smile.

‘Are you a girl or a lion?’

‘A lion’ said the lion and the teacher realised that almost all is lost.

‘Are you a girl or a lion?’ asked the teacher.

‘A lion’, said the fourth lion and the teacher was feeling pretty desperate then. The parents, the grandparents and the nannies were all watching then. Of course.

‘Right’, said the teacher. ‘It is a real shame but the English lesson is ONLY for boys and girls, not lions. I am sorry. Bye bye, lions’, said the teacher waving her hand and started walking towards the classroom. She stopped after a few steps where a little boy was sitting with his mum.

‘Hello, Sasha! Are you a boy or a lion?’ asked the teacher.

‘A boy’ said the boy.

‘Great! Let’s go to the classroom!’ said the teacher and off they went. They stopped again after a few more steps where a little girl was sitting with her mum.

‘Hello, Sasha! Are you a girl or a lion?’ asked the teacher.

‘A girl’, said the girl.

‘Fantastic! Let’s go to the classroom!’ said the teacher and all three went to the classroom.

At the classroom door, they stopped, and formed a line. The teacher opened the door, walked in, sat at the door and started saying hello to the first student in line (a part of the routine). They were in the middle of the chat about howareyoutoday and green pencils and yellow schoolbags, when one more person appeared at the end of the line.

‘Anka!’ she shouted, ‘Anka, hello! I am a girl!’

This was the first of the used-to-be lions and the other three quickly stood in line behind her. A miracle!!! In the end, we had one human teacher and seven human children taking part in this lesson.

***********************

This is a great VYL anecdote, of course, and I am sure, in the years to come, I will be going back to it to smile and to remember how difficult it was not to giggle when a girl-turned lion-turned girl came up to announce (in English) that she changed her mind and was ready to take part in the lesson for humans.

It is also a story about what it might be like to be a student at five and that what the big people see as being naughty (running around, roaring, pretending to be a lion) is just a lot of fun and an opportunity to do something different and to experiment with the ways of the world.

Finally, it is also a story about using or not using the L1 in the VYL classroom. You an use it, you don’t have to but using L1 is not the only way. It is a challenge but it is an interesting one. And it is possible.

Some people do sudoku to exercise their brains, some enjoy complex Maths thingies (that clearly not me), some like to guess the ending of a crime story before it is officially revealed in the final chapters. My brain seems to revel in such child-development-and-language-grading games. Especially when there is the added bonus of a high profile audience, of parents, supervisors or trainees…

I will leave the Spiderman story for some other occasion.

Happy teaching!

*) The text in italics is what the kids said in L1.

Epic fail! or We make mistakes to learn #3

by

The rebellion at the age of 7

There were twelve of them, year one. I would come to their school, to teach them for 30 minutes, four times a week, during their siesta break, after they had had their lunch at the school canteen and while their friends and peers were running wild during the remaining part of the break.

Probably, the problems were partly rooted in that very set-up because sometimes the kids were waiting for me in the classroom but sometimes, I had to take them off the playground, interrupting the game and replacing their doing nothing time with yet another lesson, no matter how good, already in a difficult position. This, of course, was something that I had no impact on and could do nothing about it. That was the set-up and that’s what I did deal with.

And overall, very successfully. I loved working with these kids. We did build the routine, they were responsive and, with time, I did learn how to manage their energy and to make the lessons effective. They were the perfectest kids in the world. All went well. Too well.

The Easter Break disaster

Somehow, when we got back in April, after only a week away, everything changed. Until this day I have no idea what actually did happen and I am none the wiser despite the fact that I spent hours discussing the group with my mentor and trainer on the IH CYLT course, the YL advisor and colleagues. It was, literally, as if someone had snatched my lovely students and replaced them with a bunch of wild, rebellious kids that behaved as if the previous seven months had not happened. They just snapped. It was or it felt like a proper rebellion. Imagine a pirate ship, in the middle of the ocean, with the whole crew pretending they had never heard about you being their captain.

I mean, it does happen, especially with the younger kids and especially after a longer break. They do forget the language and the routine and you have to invest a little bit more time in re-establishing yourself in the class. Whatever did happen that year, was a complete disaster, a capital D: D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R.

The recovery

The first lesson, well, it almost did not happen, not according to the definitions of ‘a lesson’ in my dictionary. I focused on surviving. The number of students involved? Two (2): most of the time and zero (0): at times.

Getting ready for the second lesson was like preparing for a battle. I prepared a super cool craft activity, a monkey that could move legs and arms and that we would use to learn and to practice I can with different verbs. The monkey was my ferret. It got some of the kids’ attention and at that point, half of them participated and we had a better (but far from good) lesson.

Over the next few lessons, I had to bend over backwards to come up with more and more supercool-OMG-I-got-to-have-it activities and slowly, over the next two weeks, I got all the kids on board. Back on board. And we did plough through and I was lucky as there were only a few weeks left until the end of the year. Survivable. But we never got back to the state of bliss we had achieved before Easter.

As I have said already, I did discuss this case with many people and no one could offer any solutions and ideas why it would have even taken place. I still do not understand what I had done wrong and really cannot see what I could or would have done differently in the classroom in order to make it better.

But there were things that I could have done outside of the classroom. It was years ago so I am going to presume that this is why I did not think of that back then. I was at the state school, my group was in fact only a half of a class that had studied together, a class that had their own parents and a class that had their own form tutor. Today, I would have asked to talk to their class teacher to find out if there was anything at all that did happen at school but outside of the English hours that could have affected the atmosphere and the behaviour in my classes. Or, I would have asked for her or for the parents’ help to help me resolve that problem.

Lessons to take out of this nightmare?

  • You are not alone. Talk to your boss, mentor, supervisor and collagues. The kids may have other teachers, too and it is a good idea to talk to them. The kids do have parents or carers, too! You are not alone.
  • Don’t give up! It is always easier to start off the right foot than to reintroduce the law and order.

Happy teaching!

And don’t forget to read about the other epic fail stories, for example this one, here.

Epic Fail! or We make mistakes to learn #2

by

Two: The rewards chart (sigh)

Once upon a time, there was a young ADOS that was supposed to be observed for the very first time formally by a senior teacher trainer. It was supposed to be an observation with a group of year 1 of primary or, in other words, something that the said ADOS was supposed to be very good at as she had just been appointed to do. It was a small group, four boys that she had been working with for two months. The observation was arranged, the lesson plan was prepared, all good. Only not quite.

Kids during an observed lesson

This is now a hobby of mine, observing how the students behave and react whenever there is an alien element in the classroom. It can be a fellow teacher that has popped in to do some peer observation, or the parents during the open lesson or, of course, an observer during a formal observation. Why? Because anything can happen.

When the group is ‘under control‘, usually nothing happens, the kids treat the additional human as a piece of furniture, almost, they don’t pay attention at all. It must be that the routine is already so strong and the balance so ideal that it cannot be tilted by another human visiting. When these humans are parents, emotions do take over and it can go in many different ways. Either the kids are too excited and want to show off in front of the parents and behave themselves or they do not behave themselves or they are shy and are not there, almost.

There is one more option, too. On the day when the teacher trainer came to observe, my boys decided to put on a show. They were so dedicated to that noble task that I actually did manage to catch them repeatedly glance at the observer, then at me, do something that we would not really want to have and then look again at the observer and at me. I was being played. That was not fun, of course, but I did manage to stay still and more or less in control…apart from the rewards chart thing.

Enter rewards chart.

One of my students, let’s say Sasha, was really not in the mood for anything resembling good behaviour. I did have a rewards chart on the board and I would award smiley faces after each stage of the lesson. All the other students got a smiley face and Sasha got a sad face. Then, the next stage of the lesson took place and the situation repeated itself, a smiley face for everyone and a sad face for Sasha. Then, one more stage and again, all the other students were working, Sasha was not so I had to be consistent (yes) and so everyone got their smiley face and Sasha’s got his third sad face. And that was the end of the game for me. And for Sasha.

At this point, having those three sad faces right next to his name, on the board, for everyone to see was too much for him to handle. I completely lost him. He was not interested in anything at that point (luckily we were close to the end of the lesson) and I just let him be there. Really.

Thank Heavens, we were a few minutes away from the end of the lesson. I was, indeed, saved by the bell.

I did not fail the observation, not formally at least but it still keeps coming back to me, all the little details of it. They come to haunt me, almost like the Ghost in ‘Hamlet’…

The lessons that I have learnt

  • We need a rewards chart (although there are also teachers who oppose to them) but then need to be used not only consistently but also in a clever way
  • It is better to withhold a reward (a smiley face) rather than award a fine / a punishment (a sad face), nobody wants to see their name on display close to sad faces which are also accumulating
  • There must be chance for the student to make up and to catch up with the rest of the group. Here the teacher is in charge so another smiley face can be awarded to everyone when Sasha displays some attempt at working hard. His efforts should be acknowledged (Catch them being good) or else it is going nowhere and there is nothing that can be done to get the student back.

Happy teaching!

Have you read about a rebellion in a primary EFL class yet? You can find it here.

Child development stories #2

by

Enter Sasha

She is five years old and is a big sister to a baby brother. She is in the second year of our EFL course. The group in which she is studying is not big at all, only four kids, two boys and two girls. We can meet only once a week, on Saturday morning, for two real hours.

It happens in the second half of the lesson. The kids are completing the literacy development activities, tracing letter M and gluing in a few pictures with mum, a mouse, a monkey. They are having fun because at the same time we are playing our new favourite game: what colour is it? Which is about making up new names for all the colours. No more ‘green marker’ then, no more ‘purple marker’. They have been rebranded as ‘a cucumber marker’ and ‘an aubergine marker’. All of a sudden brown is the new black because we all call it ‘a chocolate marker’ and everyone wants to use it.

Just then, both Sasha and Andrey reach out for the same marker and Sasha waves her hand so unfortunately that she hits Andrey, not very hard to make him cry but hard enough to cause discomfort. Andrey gets upset.

The teacher says ‘Oh, Andrey, are you ok? Sasha didn’t mean it. She will say sorry. Sasha, please say sorry.’

But Sasha shakes her head.

Teacher continues ‘Sasha, you are fantastic and you did not mean it. But Andrey is sad. If you say ‘I am sorry’, he will be happy’ (all that navigating carefully between the buoys of acceptable English and English graded to the pre-A level, with all the gestures, soft voice and empathy). Andrey is calmer but Sasha shakes her head. ‘Sasha, please say sorry’

And this is when she raises her head, looks at the teacher with defiance and says, in her L1 ‘You can’t tell me what to do. You are not my boss’

The teacher sighs, struggling to keep a straight face because it is hilarious. Even more so because the word she uses is very formal, strong and way above the 5-year-old range. A corporate culture vernacular, she has picked up somewhere.  The teacher gives up and once again smiles at Andrey. ‘It’s OK, Andrey. Don’t worry. It’s going to be OK’

The lesson goes on…

The kids go back to tracing the letters. Just then, Sasha suddenly stands up and starts walking. The teacher looks up and says ‘Sasha, please sit down’ but this is when the little girl looks at the teacher again, right in the eye. The last traces of defiance are gone and now she is something new about her, something in her eyes, as if she is saying ‘Please, let me do it’. The teacher nods her head.

Sasha goes around the table, behind the other kids’ backs, until she reaches Andrey. He looks at her but she bends, with her hands cupped around her mouth and his ear and says in L1 and in that child whisper that absolutely everyone in the room can hear clearly ‘Andrey, please don’t tell anyone, it is a secret. I am really sorry. I didn’t mean it’. The she just goes back to her seat and finishes her task, as if nothing has happened. Nothing at all.

The things that I have learnt from this story

  • Kids are different and even the bravest and the most outspoken ones will not feel very comfortable with all the limelight and attention on them, positive or negative, even if the audience comprises of only four other people that they know really well.
  • The teacher has to react to any unwanted behaviour to signal that this is not what we are going to tolerate, however, it is also up to the teacher to decide how long this ‘reaction’ should last. When does it stop being effective and turns into ‘torture’ and ‘punishment’
  • Is it always a good idea to encourage or to make the kids say that they are sorry there and then even if they don’t mean it and don’t want to do it? Debatable. It might be a good idea to leave some room for the learner and human autonomy and let them sort it out themselves, under a teacher’s supervision, of course.
  • What Sasha said to the teacher could have been potentially interpreted as a lack of respect but it was something that was clearly overheard at home and applied in a different context, in a similar situation. It never happened before and it never happened again afterwards and, to be honest, the only difficult thing about it was that I had to keep a straight face, although inside I was rolling with laughter.
  • Sasha did understand very well that she was the responsible one, she did not feel comfortable with it and wanted to signal her discomfort to the world. And, in a way, she did and effectively so. Perhaps a sad face or tears would be a more typical way of reacting in such a situation, a more predictable one but children are different and they react differently.
  • We did have our happy ending but if I were to give any advice to this teacher (well, myself from a few years ago), I would suggest telling Sasha a secret, instead of drawing even more attention to something that she did do.

Happy teaching!

Child development stories #1: Luna Lovegood

by

Why this series? Child development is one of the key areas when it comes to the teacher education in the area of primary and pre-primary. At the same time, whereas the other two areas, the knowledge of the language and the appropriate methodology, are better taken care of, child development for the EFL teachers is still waiting to happen. Hence this series.

I hope that some of my adventures will contribute to understanding who the little people in our classrooms are and how to approach them.

All of this really did happen but we want to protect real kids and their stories so for the purpose of this little exercise here, everyone will be a Sasha as it can be a boy or a girl and the name is used worldwide, too.

Enter Sasha.

On the one hand, there is nothing unusual about it, really, there is always one child in (each) group that is going to be your space cadet, daydreamer, lost, your head in the clouds, moony, your Luna Lovegood, your Tigger, Little Miss Scatterbrain. There is always one and it is perfectly fine.

My Luna was a boy, aged 5, Alexander, although this name was too big for him, so we just called him Sasha or Sanya.

Sanya could not stay focused…

…throughout the lesson for as long as all the other kids, and despite the fact that it was year 2, with plenty of time for him to get used to the routine and the length of the lesson. He did not pay attention, he would switch off, he had to be called back. He would come late every now and again and very very rarely did he bring the homework.

He did not interact with the kids well, either.

He did not make friends with the girls, who stayed in their own circle but he did not seem to be getting on very well with the other three boys in the group. Grisha, the youngest always chose to sit with his older brother and Artem refused to sit with him. Of course, they did play together and interact during the lesson, I did take care of it, but they only did the absolute minimum.

And yet, Sanya, did look for this interaction only his methods were not approved of by the boys. For example, one day, in the middle of the lesson, he went to Artem and hugged him to which Artem pushed him off with ‘Don’t kiss me, you are not my mum’…All of it was rather unusual and a definite change of behaviour.

But even before I managed to get in touch and talk to Sanya’s mum…

the truth revealed itself. One of these days in November, the lesson finished and Sanya was still there in the classroom. When I asked ‘Where is your mummy?’, he explained that today his mummy is not coming to pick him upstairs (3rd floor) but that he should walk downstairs those six flight of stairs and meet her on the ground floor, by the cloakroom, a strange request and a real challenge, in that building. I let the assistant know and I said ‘Let’s go’ reaching out my hand. And because it was a long trip, step by step by step, hand in hand and because he was a little gloomy, I decided to talk to him. Now, mind you, he was still a pre-A level and so I did speak English and he replied in Russian. We counted stairs, I praised him for the lesson and then, I decided to ask, just making small talk, ‘Sanya, who is coming today, mummy or daddy?’ and this is when the heartbreak began. And the understanding.

Sanya just answered the question and because it must have been something that has been bothering him, he just went on talking.

‘My uncle is coming today. I don’t have a daddy. He doesn’t live with us anymore. He’s got a new home and a new baby son. We live with the uncle, my mummy and me’

At the age of 5, Sanya had already been through his parents’ separation, at an unknown cost and stress, his half-brother’s birth and who knows what else. No wonder he was a little bit off. No wonder mum had other issues to deal with rather than the homework. No wonder he needed some more attention from the other kids and from the teacher.

Back then I was still a very young and shy teacher.

I did not talk to Sanya’s mum. What I focused on was making Sanya’s time in class a little bit more bearable: no stickers for homework, homework replacement that he could do in class when I was checking other kids’ tasks and deal with his in the end, praising him and putting more effort in creating opportunities for him to bond with other children, making sure he is fine.

And walking him downstairs to the cloakroom after the lesson.

Today, it would have been different. I would have more energy and more confidence to talk to mum and voice my concerns and try to work with her more closely.