As far as I can tell, this is unquestionably my greatest success as a teacher so far. So consider yourself warned, massive own-horn-tooting to follow.
Opening: On Tuesday, while I was gone to a training on how to teach math, my kids had a substitute. One kid, allegedly A---, who brought firecrackers to school last week, swapped an RSP (special ed pull out) student’s chair for a broken one while she was out of the room. About half the class, from what I was able to see, saw this. No one said anything to the sub and no one said anything to her. She came in and out of the room three times before she sat down. Each time, I’ve heard that everyone laughed expectantly. Eventually, she sat down, the chair collapsed and she smacked her head against the cupboard behind her. The crack was so loud that the sub was worried she had head/neck damage and refused to let her get off the ground. He called the principal in, who finally confirmed there was no serious damage and who pulled my kids one by one trying to find out who swapped the chair. No one talked.
Intro to New Material: On Wednesday, I found out about this and we talked about it during morning meeting. I found out the details not from my sub or principal (!!!) but from my students, in real time. For once, I had the presence of mind to ask the right questions, withhold comments, and truly parlay this into a “teachable moment.” I explained that I was disappointed with my class, not just because someone swapped N---’s chair, but because no one warned her before she hurt herself. I wrote up “Hero” and “Coward” on the board and we talked about what the two words meant and which one applied to the students. “Are you saying we’re cowards Mr. E-C?” “Yes, I am saying that the people who knew that N---‘s chair was broken and didn’t say anything, you are cowards. You knew what the right thing to do was, and you didn’t do it.” What kept the lesson going, and working, was that instead of the angry resentment I often see when I lecture my students, I saw remorseful agreement among the guilty. For once, when I rhetorically asked questions liked, “Is it always easy to do the right thing?” I got back a perfect harmony of the right response, “No.” “Does that make it okay not to?” “No.” For once, when I abstracted to a larger level and told them that they were in 5th grade, that they were learning to be the people they would be the rest of their lives, they didn’t look at me blankly, they nodded. Maybe it was just that they knew they had been bad, but to me, it seemed like, for once, they got it.
Guided Practice: On Thursday, I decided this would be the perfect chance to run an activity I had heard of from some other teachers. After our morning meeting, I brought another teacher’s fishbowl over. After getting the class’ attention, I took a fish out of the bowl and laid it on some a small dish on some paper towels. I left it there and drank some tea. F---, looked at the board, saw that our lesson on the schedule was “Heroes and Cowards” and immediately walked up and dropped the fish back in the bowl. “You want us to be heroes,” he said. “No,” I replied, “You’re out of your seat, interfering with my lesson.” I got the fish back out. “That’s your warning.” I left the fish there, I told the kids it would survive for about 3 minutes. After 3 minutes, I said, “You know what, I don’t want to kill this fish. It’s nice and big.” I threw the fish back in, but fished out another one. “This one is nice and small. It doesn’t matter. Mr. Roch won’t notice if it’s dead.” I demeaned fish, I told them that I didn’t care about fish, that fish were what was wrong with our school, that we couldn’t eat this fish, what did it matter if it died. I asked the class, “Who thinks I’m really going to kill this fish?” About half the class raised their hands. “You’re right,” I said. Hands shot into the air, but I didn’t take questions. I told them that their questions didn’t matter, that nothing I had to say mattered, that the lesson was for them. They knew what I was going to do, I said, that only left the question of what they were going to do. After that hint, I got quiet and just walked around the room. C----, one of my top performers, whispered to her neighbor, “I think we’re supposed to save the fish.” Only he heard her, but I said, “There are consequences if you interfere. F--- got his warning.” She got quiet. A minute later, I said, “The fish is looking pretty close to dead. Still flapping his gills, but not too much longer. Maybe two more minutes.” I looked at C----, she was on the edge of her seat. I walked around the room. Back at the fish, I shook my head and sighed, “Not too much longer.” A chorus of cries went up. I walked around the room. C---- was going back and forth on the edge of her seat. Everytime I looked at her, she sat back down. I said, “About thirty seconds, I’ll bet.” She got up. She walked to the fish, I walked to the fish and said, “C----, this is your warning. Sit down.” She picked up the little dish and, hands shaking, started to put it back in. “Crystal, if you do that, you have detention.” “I… know,” she stammered, “I just have to…” she pushed the fish in and ran back to her seat. I told Crystal she did the right thing, but still had detention. It wasn’t easy to be a hero.
Independent Practice: I asked my students to write, silently, about what happened, how they felt now, what they learned. They wrote, silently, until I told them to put their pencils down. For once, I’m just going to give you the highlights.
“What happened today in frount of the class changed my way of life. Life, death, laws, rules obbedence. Which one would me or you Pick, my life, but I didn’t get the chance. You, well, I don’t know I hope that whatever you pick it’s right. I learned a lesson today, pick life over rules, there maybe consequences, but its worth it. Life is more valuable than obedience.”
E----, my best writer (duh)
“I have learnd to sacrifice something to be a hero. It is not easy like if a dog was bying and you were the olyne one that cude safe him and in that time you hade to go pick up your fiuls. In u asfe that it was going to closse [If you want to save something close to you) you have to sacrufice something.”
E----, another RSP student
“This lesson will change me from being a coward. By standing for what I wont. This lesson profd me wrong.”
B----, apparently helped A---- move the girls chair on Tuesday
Closing: Tomorrow, students are going to make posters about when in their lives they've been heroes, when they've been cowards, and what it takes to be a hero. I plan to share my own answers to the same questions.
Standards/Assessment link, the coup de grace: Our unit assessment in 2 weeks features the writing prompt, “How is Yudistira [a character from a short story the students read] a hero?”
