This is Real Life
Revisiting the Question Why
I started my journey with GMWP’s What We Can Become by writing a post regarding the question why. Throughout the years, I’ve developed this feeling that the word why should be used more frequently and more freely in education. Students and teachers alike should feel they can ask questions and rightfully receive answers. We should always be seeking purpose. So, why is it I found myself antagonized when I was constantly being bombarded with this very question in my own classroom?
We are definitely teaching in different times right now; that much is blatantly obvious. Students today seem to come into the classroom with a heightened level of skepticism. And why shouldn’t they? The past couple years have interrupted education entirely and have made teachers, parents, and students wonder what it is that is truly necessary to learn. Because of this, I found myself being questioned many times in regards to what we were learning and why we were learning it. However, instead of being proud of my students for asking the right question, I found myself becoming annoyed that I had to constantly defend my practices to the sea of dubious adolescent faces in front of me.
“Why do we have to know this?”
“Why do we have to do this?”
Because, in high school…
Well, in college…
When you are an adult…
Whoa. Hold up. I find myself feeling a bit ashamed as I realize I have been guilty of utilizing these exact phrases in my classroom. What am I telling my 8th grade students? I’m not validating their existence at this exact moment. I’m not giving them credit for what they are learning today and how it will impact their immediate life. It’s as if I’m telling them that their current life doesn’t matter–instead, they must only learn for what lies ahead. It’s also as if I’m telling them that what they are learning in my 8th grade language arts class doesn’t really matter in the here and now, it’s only preparing them for a future they cannot yet imagine. It’s hard to deny that we live in a society that thrives on instant gratification, so if I was an 8th grade student, why would I want to work so hard at something that seems to have very little value at this exact moment?
When looking at the design principles of GMWP, the following stood out to me: Students are positioned as partners and co-creators in all aspects of the classroom, educators work to flatten power hierarchies in decision making to the greatest extent possible, and decisions and goals are regularly revisited and revised. It dawned on me that most of the time I follow certain standards because it’s what I’m supposed to do. I am expected to teach certain skills, and my job is to find ways to make those skills accessible to 8th grade students. I never got to be or will be part of the conversation where these standards are created; however, I do get to sit at the table where choices are being made in how these standards are addressed and acquired in our district and schools. The students don’t know this, though. Instead, they are very much under the impression that I wake up in the morning and scheme up arbitrary ways to torture them with reading and writing. They don’t understand how I am striving to meet my own list of expectations–expectations that my principal, the district, and even the state has for me as an educator.
However, the fact remains that I am still the one wielding all the power in the classroom. I haven’t made the “why” accessible to my students at all. I can reference these standards and expectations all I want, but they will remain meaningless to the students. Unfortunately, many of them are used to being talked down to and being told that they wouldn’t understand. By the time they reach me in the eighth grade, they are exhausted from doing what they are told simply because someone told them to do it. Yet, they do it anyway because, really, do we give them any other choice?
It is this thought that has made me want to tackle the 8th grade ELA standards, making them into something that my students could understand. It would mean working with my students to interpret what these standards mean to them and how we can phrase them in a way that would make them accessible to all. When you know what you are supposed to be accomplishing, it can help to make you more successful on your journey there. I think of a recipe for something or directions to assemble something. Both will often come equipped with pictures of the final product. It gives you direction and a goal. Now, my attempt at whatever fantastical baked good I am attempting may end up looking nothing like the one on the glossy page of the cookbook and more like some kind of a baking fail, but I still follow each direction and try to do what I am supposed to to the best of my ability. In the end, I am proud of my creation, knowing that I put in the necessary work. Just as I won’t join the ranks of professional bakers, all students will not have what may be deemed as an “A+” outcome, nor should they. It’s about taking each step, meeting each of the criteria as they individually see fit, and ending up with something completed by the end.
So here goes nothing. I’m going to answer my students’ question “why” with yet another why. I want them to wonder with me how a specific skill may be valuable to them in their current lives or the lives they imagine for themselves one day. We will try to attach meaning to the long list of requirements that confront them each day in class. I really have no idea what we will create together, but I know I’ll be proud of whatever it is and proud of my students.
