As a teacher, there are hundreds of days that I leave my classroom and wonder what I can do to be a better teacher tomorrow.
There is one day in particular that truly changed my practice. It was the day when my own child, a first grader at the time, entered my classroom at the end of my teaching day, threw his backpack down and said, “Mom, I think I need a reading tutor. I have a reading problem and need help.”
I had to learn more. “Okay,” I said, “Why do you think you need a tutor?” “Well, sometimes when I’m reading I stutter and I can’t sound out my words,” he replied. I asked him to pull-out his homework and start reading the first few words. Indeed, he began to stutter.
“The k-k-k-itten did-n’t wa-want to go to the grocery st-store.” “See, Mom? I told you I have a problem and I need a tutor.”
“Well, what do you think a tutor does?” I asked. “I think Mrs. Hornstein stays after school with you and you work together to help with whatever reading difficulties you have. For me, that would obviously be my stutter. When you do a really nice job, she adds a stinky sticker to your growth chart and hangs it up on the board for everyone to see. And even sometimes she makes popcorn for you to snack on. I really think I need a tutor.”
My heart fell to the floor. Not because he was going to need extra help in reading, but because he was smart enough to notice the faults in our educational system that we couldn’t even begin to correct.
The children who need the most help, get the most attention.
The children who need the most help, get frilly growth charts, smelly stickers and popcorn. My child wanted these same opportunities. He wanted just a little more attention from his teacher too.
How come a first grader could notice this? But, I see this practice used in classroom-after-classroom-after-classroom, year-after-year?
Let me fill you in on a little something I already knew about my son.
He was certainly not in need of a tutor. He began reading when he was 3 years old and spent the summer before 1st grade starting the Harry Potter Series. He reads everything he can get his hands on and remembers everything he reads. In 2nd grade, he was screened for Gifted & Talented Education and went on to score in the 99th percentile in Reading. I immediately knew when he told me he needed a tutor that something wasn’t right.
He didn’t need a tutor. He just needed someone to notice him. It took this conversation with my son for me to change my perspective as a teacher.
Instead of ignoring his need for a tutor, I told him that I could be his tutor. Every day after school, we would sit together and work on the skills that he “needed help” on. We could create our own sticker charts together and share popcorn, as we worked through his reading. We would snuggle and spend time together. Fortunately, Mrs. Hornstein was kind enough to join me in my “tutoring efforts” and would spend just a few extra minutes each week “tutoring” my son until he overcame his so-called stutter. Within a few weeks, his difficulties magically disappeared, he was back to reading the 5th book in the Harry Potter Series, and he forgot all about his need for a tutor. He hasn’t mentioned it since.
While he has forgotten about it altogether, I certainly haven’t.
My experience with my own son made me question so much of what was my regular practice. Were there any children in my class who felt the same way my son did? And what could I do to ensure they never felt this way ever again?
Had I been equally celebrating all children’s successes? Have I recognized that just because a child is on grade-level in a subject area that he/she doesn’t deserve my attention? Aren’t we here for all children?
Every child deserves to be celebrated for their successes, both big & small.
Our current system doesn’t address this issue collectively, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t make small changes in our own classrooms. What could I do to better my own practice? What could I do to give individualized attention to every child in my class, even though my time is already stretched so very thin? I thought about the small actions that Mrs. Hornstein and I worked together on; we each gave my son just a few extra minutes each day, focusing on just him as an individual. Is this something I could feasibly do with every student? It seemed like it could be worth a try, after all teaching is just one big science experiment after another.
I began conducting “mini-meetings” with my students once each week. I scheduled my “mini-meetings” during my silent reading time and spent approximately 5-7 minutes with each child, rotating through them each week. We discussed what successes they had during the week, any concepts they were struggling with and overall how they were progressing. Sometimes, I would share their individualized data with them and we would celebrate together. Other times, we would focus on setting a mini-goal. Both the students and I began to genuinely look forward to this “special time” together each week.
The success I experienced with this little change not only helped me build relationships and connections with my students, but gave each of them the attention they so readily deserve from their teacher. I’m really just trying to be much better than I was yesterday.
