Underlife

By Ian Sulkowski

One of the concepts we recently discussed in my grad program is that of “underlife.”

This sociological concept broadly describes how members of communities complicate their two-dimensional social roles (whether as a student, governor, flight attendant, mother, what have you) through processes of individuation (their hobbies, interests, deviant activities, etc).

When applied to the classroom, it describes those activities that our students partake in that we as teachers likely regard as distractions or challenges to the content we are teaching.

Underlife makes me squirm a little. Even just the name of it conjures in my mind this idea of bottom feeding. And yet, when I came across the term in one of my grad school classes, I felt oddly validated.

I think I’m a perceptive person — or maybe neurotic, or maybe both — and as a result, I’ve been sensitive to underlife from the moment I set foot in my classroom.

My fourth period last year were the reigning champions of underlife. Their hums of low-level conversation, their off-task shuffling, their knowing smiles or scowls or stares shot across the room as I circle around — all of these provoke my insecurity that my kids aren’t focussed enough, and that I, by extension, am not teaching them enough. I tried to squelch it, with varying degrees of success.

My Latino jocks would pester each other for gum from across the room — “chicle? Chicle?” My cliques of oh-so-over-it teenage girls would snicker at one another, seemingly over nothing, or (God forbid) sneak out a phone, open a Snapchat, and let out an unrestrained cackle.

I’ll admit it: I instinctively hate underlife. Maybe it was my strict Catholic schooling, wherein the unspoken 11th Commandment was “Thou shalt not partake in underlife.” But in my first year of teaching, I could not seem to find a deterrent for underlife. Not a sustainable one, anyway.

As I have been reflecting on my first year of teaching and plan for my second over the course of the summer, I have begun to suspect that the first step towards a more realistic view of my classroom is to accept that underlife isn’t going anywhere. Our students are people, just like us — and how many of us can sit through a PD without checking our phone or cracking a joke?

Having come to this realization, I am consciously working to change my underlife expectations for year two.

It will require more of a shift in my perspective than in my practice. Last year, I built in plenty of opportunities for relevant peer-to-peer conversation as an instructional tool. Although students regularly shifted during these “turn and talk” moments from course-based conferencing to idle chatter, the latter did not necessarily negate the former. In hindsight, this progression did not really warrant the insecurity that it elicited from me; it was just a natural indication that students were ready to move on.

There were, of course, occasions where students would neglect the topic at hand for another one — Fortnite, college basketball, the latest gossip — but only a few kids in each class would outright abandon the actual assignment.

By identifying these kids early on and proactively engaging them, I think I can effectively increase the likelihood that they will leave my class with more knowledge than they came in with.

Moreover, if I start to notice that a majority of kids are regressing into underlife, it is likely a sign that we need to mix things up a little — whether with a four corners activity or a game.

Teaching, especially in a public school, is a humbling enterprise. Every kid we see throughout the day is a unique variable in the equation of our classroom, making it difficult to dictate a universal behavior for an entire fifty minute period. My goal for this coming year is to take this into account when I find my students delving into underlife — and to prioritize student mastery over my own need to feel in control.

Ian Sulkowski is motorcycle enthusiast and former union organizer from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He is in his second year of teaching high school English. Find him on Twitter @IanSulkowski.

Curio Learning

Curio is a web and mobile app that empowers teachers to easily discover, curate, and collaborate on new ideas and strategies.

Ashley Lamb-Sinclair

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Late to the party. Yes, an elephant licked me.

Curio Learning

Curio is a web and mobile app that empowers teachers to easily discover, curate, and collaborate on new ideas and strategies.

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