Classroom management

The invisible student and why you might want to have one:-)

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Yes, you did read the title right. The invisible students are among us. I myself have had one for about eight years now. And yes, it has always been Pasha. Almost always, with the exception of one year…

How did it all start?

Well, I have no idea. Hard as it is to imagine now, there was definitely ‘the time before Pasha’ and then, all of a sudden, he became a part of the everyday.

I guess, perhaps, it was one of those days when the kids did something silly, I came in and asked ‘Who did it?’ and no one wanted to own up. I found the answer myself. ‘Ah, I see. It was Pasha, wasn’t it?’ and they just went with it.

That looks plausible but to be honest, I am not quite sure. I don’t remember. But Pasha stayed with us and today I would like to tell you what is great about that.

Why does everyone need a Pasha?

Pasha is extremely helpful when it comes to eliciting new language and providing language models. Every single time you need a semi-personalised sentence, a situation relevant to the students’ lives without, however, involving one of the real people present in the room (as they might be shy, not feeling very comfortable with having their name and person brought up while discussing some of the vocabulary and some of the situations), Pasha is at your service. He is more than happy to help.

Pasha does not mind when you say ‘Pasha failed an exam‘ or ‘If Pasha brings a bad mark, his mum will be angry’ or ‘Pasha got embarrassed because the teacher showed everyone his poem‘…Pasha is the epitome of cool when you discuss his love life, his problems with teachers and his fights with his brother.

Pasha never fights or frowns against any of the partners that you him to work with. Pasha is ok when you pair him up with Alex The Procrastinator. Alex working with Pasha will really have to make an effort and do something, instead of lazying about and pushing the task onto the more laborious student in the pair. You can say, for example, ‘Alex, today you are working with Pasha‘. Pasha will not mind. Funnily enough, Alex will not mind either. What’s more, Pasha is more than ecstatic when one Sasha The Introvert sometimes asks quietly ‘Can I work with Pasha today?‘. And yes, of course she can. This way she will be more motivated to work with the other (real-er) students on the other days.

Pasha is the best thing since the sliced bread on all of those occasions when you really need to be the disciplinarian and you have to make a point and get the message across, again, without referring to any of the students in particular, without pointing fingers and yet, highlighting the main points effectively. Maybe it is because you have forgotten the homework again. Maybe it is because they are cheating in test. Maybe they call each other names, come late or attempt a joke and fail and end up offending someone or almost destroy something…

In which case, you can make a speech like this one: ‘You can tell Pasha that this remote is quite expensive so if he throws it out again and it gets lost or broken, I will be getting in touch with his parents and they will have to pay for that. When you see Pasha, make sure he gets the message, alright?‘ Works wonders:-)

Last but not least, your class is a community, with its unique rules, traditions, habits and silly jokes and Pasha becomes a part of it, too. It is something that we share, something that is our thing.

Naturally, there are also things that Pasha is not and these include the following:

  • the only classroom management resource at the teacher’s disposal
  • the classroom management tool that will help sort out all the problems
  • the trick that will work with all the teachers, age groups and levels

My favourite Pasha moments

Well, there have been many, but here are the three gems.

One. Teens, pre-FCE, I cannot remember the topic but it might have been Past Continues as this always encourages the coursebook authors to write about disasters, accidents, explosions and other dramatic events. I cannot recall what we were doing and why Pasha’s life was in danger but at one point, someone asked ‘What about Pasha?‘ and one of my girls said, ‘He’s lying on the floor, there!‘ pointing at something with her chin. I remember that we burst into laughter but I also remember that at the same time, I took a step back and half of my students instinctively pulled their feet away and hid them under the chairs, as far as possible from the centre of the room where Pasha ‘was‘.

Two. Same group of teens and the invisible student who had been a part for about two years already and the admin bringing in a new student, a boy. When he walked in and introduced himself as ‘Pasha’, we all froze, in ten different ways as we were all digesting the same thought, until, finally, someone just said it out loud: ‘But what about Pasha, then?‘ It took some explaining (poor real Pasha) and our invisible boy got renamed, and he became ‘Styopa’, for a season.

Three. Teachers’ room and a conversation with my colleagues, someone casually bringing up the topic of the invisible students only to find out that Pasha is not the only one out there! Yay!

And I am here, writing this post because…

…this week, in the middle of the lesson, totally unexpectedly, Pasha reappeared and started to cheekily doodle on my zoom screen and my powerpoint. Of course, it was none of my amazing and well-behaved primary superstars. ‘I see. It must Pasha, the invisible student‘, I said and then, after a moment, I added ‘Pasha, can you stop, please?‘

Do you think the kids objected, doubted his presence or asked any questions? No, none of these, nothing at all. Pasha is back.

Epic fail! or We make mistakes to learn #4

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The hammer

This was my first year in teaching and my first year in teaching in a state school. As it happened, I was assigned all the year 1 of middle school classes. That was and would be entertaining enough, even with the most amazing students (which most of them were, anyway).

One of them was class D, an unfortunate by-product of the educational reform in the country. Unlike all the other classes at school, it was made up of children coming from the villages surrounding my town (so that they could all go home together on the school bus) with a few students that were repeating the year. A rather unfortunate combination because it not only labelled them as the weak class academically (yes, at the time at least, the students coming from the regional schools did not achieve as good results as the city students) but it also set them apart as the ‘village class’ with all the preconceptions and biases. When it comes to English, they were the only class that was not given the privilege of mini-classes for the purpose of the English lessons (just because their total number did not go over 24).

I did try and I did have some superstars in this class, too, clever and dedicated students, but, overall, I also had quite a few weaker, not very motivated students, too, and a few really difficult cases. One of them was Sasha. She used to be a bright student in primary, with great results but then, due to the neglect in the family that the system could not really handle very well, she just resigned herself to being ‘a weak student’ and ‘a troublemaker’. They are there, in every class, and you just learn to manage them and I was doing ok, for the first-year teacher.

A morning from hell

Now, that particular day was different. Some handymen were in the classroom, during the break or before the lessons and they were fixing something there. They must have been in a hurry because they had left a hammer behind. When we entered, together, because the students were not allowed to be in the classroom without a teacher, it was just lying there, on one of the cupboards.

We got in and everyone got down to their regular start-of-the-lesson routine – sitting down, taking out coursebooks and pencil cases. Sasha, however, my dear student, Sasha, saw the hammer and the opportunity to create mayhem.

Before I had a chance to react by hiding it, she dropped her bag at her desk, ran back to the cupboard and grabbed the hammer. I did ask her a few times to put it down, but, of course, she did not pick it up just to put it down just because I was asking her to. At that point I knew I had lost, the class they I had lost and Sasha knew I had lost.

After a minute of this theatre, she just laughed in my face, opened the door and ran out into the hallway. And was running up and down, laughing. An empty hallway, at the time, but with a row of huge windows, potted plants, framed diplomas, cups awards glass cupboard and, potentially, a few late-comers wandering in the hallway. Not to mention the harm that she could have potentially inflicted on herself. Joy!

The dilemma

There are two ground rules that they teach you pretty quickly. One is that you should never leave the students on their own in the classroom because they are you are responsible for them with your life, pretty much. The same applies to any student that, officially, should be in class at the time of the lesson. You are responsible for them, too.

The other rule is that once you are in the classroom, the kids are your responsibility and if you need help you should ask for it in such a way that does not show your weakness. No matter who is going to come to the rescue, parents, mentor or headmaster, the lesson time is your kingdom and you should rule it. No one will do it for you. By asking for help too openly or by referring to the outsiders you are digging your own grave because it will become clear, pretty quickly, that you are not capable of handling it all by yourself.

So here was my dilemma that I had about a second to think about: I cannot leave the room because I cannot leave the kids all by themselves, I cannot let Sasha just ran in the hallway and I cannot really call anyone for help, really. Or that, rather, I should not.

Obviously, I wouldn’t have had any of those dilemmas to deal with if I had managed to remove the hammer in time but, in my defense, this is definitely something that I could not imagine being in the classroom and so there was no way that I could have prepared for that.

The last act

So I did what had to be done. I told the kids to stay in their seats, no matter what and I left the room but I kept the door open, to signal to anyone else, passing by that we are dealing with some kind of an emergency. And, walking past Sasha, still running and shouting in the hallway, I did go directly to the headmaster’s office. I needed help and I had to get it. I entered the office and I think I said three words: Mr Headmaster, Sir. Sasha found a hammer in the classroom and is running in the hallway. Please, help.

He did. I left him to deal with Sasha and I went back to my classroom. I was out for three minutes. Nothing happened. They sorted it out, talked to her, she came back to the classroom about 20 minutes into the lesson. We went on.

I am not sure what other choices I had at the time. To send one of my more reasonable students to inform the headmaster? Maybe. To inspect the entire classroom before we all get in? Possibly. To raise hell afterwards in order to find out why the hammer got forgotten in the classroom? Probably.

I am not sure whether what I did was the best way out. I am glad that the school where I work now is small enough and I only need to open the door and call out for help, in case of an emergency without having to leave the kids on their own. I am also curious whether the state schools, with many more students, in large buildings, have any system of early warning in place. In case of a hammer, a nosebleed, a loss of consciousness and what not…

What would you do, dear readers?

P.S. Don’t forget to check all the other epic fail stories: classroom management, rewards’ chart and craft.

Epic fail! or We make mistakes to learn #3

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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.

Child development stories #2

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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

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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.

Crumbs #7: Line up, everybody!

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Today about a little and very un-revolutionary change in the routine that has, nonetheless, made a huge difference to my VYL and YL classes.

Instructions

  • Make sure the door to your classroom is closed and that the children wait for the lesson outside.
  • When it is the time to start, come out and line them up, perhaps with the parents’ help in the beginning, until they get used to the new routine
  • Wait for them to be ready, say hello to everyone and count together how many students are present
  • Say hello to the first student, ask how they are, let them into the classroom, wait until they book the books and bags away, choose their seat and sit down.
  • Let the second student in.
  • If setting homework is a part of your routine and programme, this is when you can check the homework, asking each student a few questions about it.
  • If there is no homework, this time can be devoted to a short individual conversation with each student. It can be a short revision of the vocabulary, talking about a picture or, if the students are already in one of the primary levels – some reading practice with flashcards or a few questions about any material covered in class. We often use it for practice with ‘Tell me about…’ with the use of a picture.
  • When the students get used to the first part (entering the room), you can add the second element and make sure that the students already sitting in the classroom are occupied, too. They can either play a simple guessing game if this game has been practised in class and if they have been given a set of flashcards. They can also play some games on the phone or the tablet, for example to practise reading with phonics. Again, they have to first to try it under your close supervision, to get used to taking turns etc.

Why we love it

  • It helps to introduce the order from the very start of the lesson since the kids are not waiting in the classroom and the teacher’s arrival is not an interruption of something that they are doing.
  • It is obvious who is responsible for the students during that time, the teacher’s take-over is clearly marked. It might not be as obvious if the kids enter the room during the break or before the teacher, especially if the teacher wants or has to spend the break time outside of the classroom, for whatever the reason.
  • The parents are of a great help in the beginning of the course, they can help explain what the kids are supposed to do, they can help with the name etc.
  • This part of the lesson is a fantastic opportunity for the 1-1 conversation with each child. Regardless of whether the teacher uses this time to check the homework or to ask and answer questions or to read, they are giving each child all their attention (almost all, the eyes at the back of the teacher’s head are watching the kids already in the room, of course:-) and they can check the progress and language use.
  • For the parents, this is a wonderful opportunity to find out how their children are interacting in English, without the parents’ supervision and this is how they can, indirectly find out about their child’s progress, before every single lesson if they wish to do so.
  • For the parents, this is also a chance to find out how the homework handouts or materials are used, what questions the teacher asks and how much language can be generated out of a page that, to the untrained eye, looks like a simple colouring page. If they want to and they have have the time, they can later use this knowledge to practise English at home.
  • In the beginning, when the children are just getting used to the new routine or if they are really young, this part of the lesson can be kept short, later it can be made longer. Similarly, in the begining, the T leads the activity but, later on, the kids can ask each other at least some of the questions, too.
  • I have been using this technique for about six years now. My first ever group for which this has been created (because there were ten of them and we hardly ever got to talk 1-1 in class), now in the third year of primary, still line up to chat with me on entering the room. I have been using it with my pre-primary students, too, groups and individuals, too. The parents always wait in the hallway, at the back of the line and they always wait to hear how their children talk to me. If they leave the school, it is only after their kids have walked into the classroom. They always wait and not because they don’t trust us/me but because they are curious and want to know how it goes.

Happy teaching!

About growing cactuses.

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No, just kidding.

Teaching teens.

A few weeks ago, I got to do my personal version of The Matrix: Reloaded: after eight years’ break, I went back to the forest to teach at a summer camp. If you’ve never had a chance to try it, there is one thing you should know – camp, among all the other things, is also an alternative universe and an academic year in a nutshell, and hence, a perfect opportunity for reflection. This time about teenagers…In a flipped classroom manner.

The last scene

It is one of my end-of-the course traditions, a good-bye letter writing. I participate, too because it is a chance to tell my students that they are amazing. The card with my name is in the classroom, to model the activity but I never specifically encourage them to leave any notes there. Asking for compliments is just…not cool, basically. But, somehow, this page never stays blank. Magic, I presume😊

I don’t need to tell you that it is really sweet and touching to be getting a letter like that:

‘You are the best teacher’‘I liked ur lessons, thanks’, ‘Thank you for interesting lessons! You are the best teacher’, ‘I do love you!’, ‘love u’, ‘it’s really interesting and funny. It’s better than lessons at school’

A letter that is followed by an avalanche of hugs. And a cabbage, a капуста, a group hug, another camp tradition. In the middle of which, this year exclusively, one is just trying not to think of the coronavirus pandemic and social distancing.

Looking at the last scene, you’d think that we had two weeks’ worth of the most amazing lessons, in the great atmosphere, with the students who wanted to learn and make the most of the summer camp lessons’ opportunities. A dream come true!

Only it wasn’t that.

The typical lesson

It’s not the students tried to find excuses not to be in class or that they complained or, even refused to participate point blank. No, they were there, every morning, all twelve of them, they did do what I asked them to but a regular lesson would also feature at least one of the following:

  • Yawning
  • Resting their heads on the tables
  • Sighing deeply when you present the model of the project
  • Sighing deeply when you explain how the walking gallery is going to work
  • Sighing deeply when you hand out the papers
  • Rolling their eyes when you want them to mingle
  • Chatting (in English but not about what they were supposed to)
  • Not sitting like the model students from the stock photography snapshots
  • Asking (seemingly) provocative questions
  • Saying just what they think, no filter whatsoever
  • Answering in single words
  • Never volunteering just to do something
  • Questioning the point of every other activity and trying to convince you to abort the whole plan
  • Sitting with a perfectly expressionless face
  • Sitting quietly until you call out their name and ask them directly

The bad news is…

…that, paradoxically, starting the academic year and the course might actually be easier with the younger students, primary or pre-schoolers. Yes, classroom management and behaviour will be a challenge but the kids will be expecting to be charmed, to be swept off their feet with your puppets, stickers, flashcards and your smile. You will have to cast the correct spell but once you do, they will be on your side, within the first five minutes of the lesson, stars in their eyes… And yes, if you are confused and you don’t quite know what you are doing, the magic will be very short-lived and you will be in trouble, but a little bit later.

It does not really work that way with teenagers. They will probably not be running around the room and demolishing the classroom while waiting for you. They will not cry or ask to go out to see mum. They will not fight over the last pink marker. What a relief. Still, the first few lessons might feel a bit awkward for the teacher. No matter how much enthusiasm you project and how much energy and effort you put into the lesson preparation, the reaction that you get might still be more resembling of Coke that has been standing in the fridge for too long – still admittedly a liquid, but as flat and un-fizzy as could be. And nowhere near the ‘WOW’ effect that you were going for. In lesson one and in lesson two and in lesson three…Oups.

The good news is…

…that it is just the way things are and that it is not the teacher’s fault, usually. Teenagers are a more demanding audience and it takes more than just one academic hour and one set of stickers to charm them.  

It makes me think of a window sill or, better even, a greenhouse, with long rows of pots, with all the imaginable species and variations of cactuses. Most of them with needles, long or short and always sharp. Or those that look like soft white hair only are as prickly and unpleasant as all the more obvious ones.

It would be silly of me to think that one blog post can effectively summarise everything that has been written about teenagers and growing up so I am not even going to try. But perhaps these few comments and ideas will make someone’s life in the classroom a bit easier. Here we go.

Peers are more important than adults.

We, dear teacher, we do not really matter that much. We are not the priority. In a group in a language school that has just been put together and in which the students don’t know each other, their energy and time and attention will inevitably be devoted to figuring each other out and finding their own place in the group. At a state school, they will probably know each other very well and the group will have been formed already but, because of that, they will act as a group, as a team, all against the world (which, in this case, is us, unfortunately). It will have nothing to do with aggression and real dislike. It will be all about not breaking the ranks to make the teacher happy. Because, really, who would want to do that?

You can help them by facilitating interaction with different people in the group. If it is teacher-imposed, it will be easier for them to put up with. They are not losing the face because they have to do it but they will be given a chance to get to know each other and to slowly bond with everybody, working together on a task, playing the game, role-playing and so on. Especially if done frequently, in a random manner (for example using cards with their names that one of the students will pick out from the bag, thus forming the teams) and if punctuated with the periods of ‘the safety blanket’ that is sitting and collaborating with their favourite people.

It works well both for the newly-formed groups and for the existing groups that the teacher only takes over because in any case it gives plenty of opportunities to observe how different students interact with different partners. For example, someone who, at the first glance, looks like the ringleader of the group might turn out to be the most laborious student when separated from his or her followers…And the quiet student might start talking when paired-up with someone who is not their best friend.

The teacher is, potentially, an enemy, too.

First of all, the teacher is old and has no idea what life is about, what struggles they everyday might bring and how difficult it is to be a teenager. Yes, the teacher used to be a teenager, too, but, clearly it has been a while and things have been forgotten already.

Second of all, the teacher seems to be on some kind of a mission (duh!) and she always wants something. Usually, that particular thins is the least interesting option of all of those available at the moment. As if that has not been bad enough, the teacher has the power to make the students do things, even if only those little, non-oppressive things such as answering questions, completing the homework tasks or changing partners. Fighting back is possible, but in the end, it is the adult who has the winning card.

Last but not least, this teacher is new and it will take some time for everyone to figure out if he or she is to be their own Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall or …Professor Umbridge. Teenagers do not have a lot of life experience but all of them have already had a chance to be exposed to different kinds of teachers, not only in books and films. They will be bringing this prior knowledge into our lesson, too and we will have no choice but to deal with that.

You can help by being yourself and smiling and by not letting their apparent lack of enthusiasm get to you. ‘Time is on your side’, as Mick Jagger says.

A few years ago, Katherine Bilsborough gave a great talk at the IH YL Conference in which she called for ‘More Democracy in the Classroom’ by getting the students involved in the shaping of the lesson and taking responsibility for it. It was a real eye-opener for me as I realised that my 4-year-olds get to make more decisions about the lesson (the favourite songs, the favourite games, the colour of the chair etc) than my pre-adults, who, actually, are the ones who need the most practice.

Drafting the class contract might be the first step but the students can also make some decisions regarding the homework they want to do, the order of the activities in the lesson, the test date, the topics to include…All within reason, of course, but something to let them see that it is not a one man show and that they matter, too.

They are looking for and finding their own voice.

That is why they are always ready to potentially question anything that we say (we are old, we don’t matter). They will be doing their ‘Mary, Mary, Quite contrary’ just to see where it gets them and how you are going to react to their actions and views and opinions and questions. Will you accept their weirdness and their alternative approach or will you try to mould them into something?

You can help by developing their critical thinking as well as including a lot of open-ended activities and opportunities for them to express their opinions and views. Teaching them how to agree in English, how to disagree politely, how to express doubt, justify opinion will all come in handy. All of it will come in handy, in your English lessons and in their lives.

The last scene. Revisited.

So here they are, your cactuses. Until they know that they are safe, until they confirm that they can trust you, they will be not be ‘nice’ and ‘sweet’ and ‘lovely students’ that every teacher dreams off.

It might take some time. It might even take the whole course. And only when it is time to say good-bye, during one of those final lessons, they take the masks off and you get to see the real, vulnerable people. People who like you, people who respect you and people who appreciate what you do. Even though they do their best not to show it.

They are also the people who care enough to ask ‘Will you remember us?’

Of course, I will.

Dear teacher, if you are preparing for the first lessons with a new group of teens, just fasten the seatbelt and get ready for the ride. And if you have got any oven mittens lying around, pack these, too. They might be just the thing you need.

Happy teaching!

P.S. I have always loved cactuses:-)