Epic fail or We make mistakes to learn

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.

Epic Fail! or We make mistakes to learn #2

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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.

Epic Fail! or We make mistakes to learn #1

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Welcome to the new series on the blog.

It started with something Michael said. He is a fellow teacher and he was telling me a story of how Teacher X went to peer observe an experienced colleague, Teacher Z and how the lesson was, well, not very good, bad, horrible, ‘a disaster’…It was not a very pleasant experience for Teacher Z, of course, but a learning opportunity for Teacher X, nonetheless (and for Teacher Z, too, actually). ‘This is what I want to hear, that even with the best intentions, it can all go ‘tits up’ but nobody is prepared to say it‘.

I got inspired. I am ready to share. I don’t mind. We repeat that to our students, constantly, that mistakes are noble and that we can learn from them. If our students can, so can we, the teachers. The same principles apply.

By the way, the Epic Fail Award is actually a real concept. It is a real award given out to employees at Hill Holliday agency, since, as Robert F. Kennedy once said ‘Only those who dare to fail greatly, can ever achieve greatly’ (apparently, have a look at the whole article here)

With that in mine off we go, to the first of my personal disasters or ‘When things did not go to plan‘.

One: The (stupid) Christmas tree craft

Here it is, look!

Did you go ‘Awn’? I bet you did. I did when I saw it and so did my kids when I showed it to them, during the pre-Xmas lesson. It did take place three years ago, I think and back then I was already an experienced teacher etc.

I did a great job, preparing for the task. I did prepare all the materials; I did make the tree at home. I did think of the staging. I did plan to teach the kids the verbs we needed to make it (fold, press, pause). I did think of how old they were and I knew them, they had been my students for over two years at the time so I could imagine what they were or were not able to do. We had done plenty of craft activities, we had worked with the pipe cleaners in a few different arrangements. I did pre-cut the triangles and tied pipe cleaners (three of them joined would be necessary to cover one tree). I punched the holes at the top of each tree. I wrote the main steps.

You would have thought the conditions were perfect. Yes, yes, they were. And yet it was the biggest craft disaster known to mankind. In my kingdom.

It turned out that even with all of these preparations and the previous experience and knowledge, the task turned out to be too tricky for my students. They were involved, yes, they loved the idea but we soon discovered that if you do not press the pipe cleaner real hard, applying all the strength (that the 5 y.o. did not quite have), it starts sliding, coming off and not looking at all as this ‘Awn’ model that I had already shown and that everyone had already managed to fall in love with and to start dreaming about of taking home.

The point of no return, in other words. Stopping, pausing or aborting the task was completely out of the question at that point. We went on, with me helping to complete eight Christmas trees simultaneously, perhaps singing the song to keep everyone occupied (though, really, I cannot be sure) with me hating absolutely every second of it and swearing that this very craft will never be seen again in any of my lessons. This or any craft, actually.

Everyone survived. Apart from all the leftover trees. I binned them all. With a lot of vidictive satisfaction. The one you can see in the photograph was recreated for teacher training purposes.

Today, I think that the craft is actually child-friendly, provided that you don’t go too minimalistic and that you keep the real Christmas tree-shape. Or that you at least cut the edges of the simple triangle in a few places, on both sides, to ensure that the pipe cleaner has somewhere to get attached and to stay in one place and still look ‘Awn’.

But it is also true that with this particular craft, I did allow myself to fall far the ‘awn’ effect and its strictly decorative value. Linguistically, there would be very little for us to do with it, apart from a few verbs and a few functional language phrases that we use and practise with any craft activity. Maybe, just maybe, I should not have fallen for it and, as a language teacher, first and foremost, I should have prioritised the linguistic aim.

Well, lesson learnt, that’s for sure!

P.S. It was unpleasant but I have not given up on craft! Experiments will sometimes lead to great achievements and sometimes to disasters but the best thing is – we learn, one way or another!

P.S.S. There is more to come in this chapter! I will see you soon with more epic fails stories. If you have some that you would like to share, please, do in the comments below!

Happy teaching!