Small Strokes Big Oaks

There has been quite a bit of talk in the educational world recently about the importance of personalizing the educational experience for students.  As teachers, many of us are faced with an alarming rate of students who have somehow fallen behind on state standards, and with teacher pay almost certainly being tied to student performance on state tests in the near future – and teacher and administrative control already tied to these tests – we all know that we need to do something to get students who are not otherwise engaged and involved in their education for whatever reason to become actively interested in what is going on in the classroom and, by extension, to learn the material and, hopefully, perform better on the state tests.  (Of course, the objective is not really to have the students perform better on state tests.  It is to have the students become interested in the subject matter and, more importantly, interested in their own education.  But, if you’re teaching in a struggling school, higher performance on state tests is a definite plus.)  The most obvious solution to the problem of the less-than-captivated student, it would seem, would be to make the educational experience mean something to the student personally.

But how do we go about this?  I, personally, teach five classes a day with at least 20 students per class (20 is the minimum; the actual number of students in my classes more often than not approaches 30).  That’s roughly 125 students each and every day, and I’m supposed to personalize the educational experience for each and every one of those students?  I’m supposed to know each student’s individual passion and talents and use that information to create meaningful assignments that will spark their interest in the educational experience?

The answer to this is, of course, an emphatic YES, and it’s something that good teachers have been intuitively doing for years.  There’s a reason why teachers like Jaime Escalante and Erin Gruwell had such success turning apathetic, inner-city students into engaged and excited learners.  They took the time to learn about their students.  They went the extra mile and then some to figure out what each student needed and then provided it.  Most of all, these inspirational teachers listened when their students spoke, and used the information students offered about themselves to tailor meaningful educational programs.

This has always seemed like a sound and fairly obvious educational practice to me, and – if the movies were true (which I know now that they were Hollywood-ized to the extreme and are incredibly problematic) – one that seemed to separate the successful and memorable teachers from the rest.  So when my school decided to implement differentiated instruction as a school-wide educational philosophy, I was all about it.  It did not seem difficult to give students options in order to create a significant classroom experience that would inspire even reluctant students to succeed.  In fact, it seemed like something I – and really great teachers I had been fortunate enough to observe and learn from – had been doing all along.

It also didn’t seem too far of a stretch from the practice of giving students choices to differentiate the curriculum to actually asking students what they would like to see in future differentiated assignments.  Personally, I’ve always made a habit of checking in with my students before and after big assignments and units to see what they liked and what could be improved.  Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly), the students are almost always honest and thoughtful in their responses, which could be because, during the year, we develop a relationship that affords them a certain amount of trust in me that if they tell me something needs to change, I will change it.  Some of the best assignments I’ve ever created and received were actually the ideas of the students themselves, or a collaborative effort between the students and myself.  Which is why, when I read this article, I was both reassured that I was doing something right by asking for my students’ input and disheartened that we, as teachers, often need to be reminded that the best resources for information about our students are, actually, the students themselves.  From the article (emphasis mine):

The real art of teaching begins once students share that information with us and we begin responding intentionally to it. I know that when I taught King Lear to seniors in AP English, I failed to take the time to ask questions such as “What helps you learn?” My students and I missed out on this rich opportunity partly because I didn’t think it mattered in a “rigorous course” (wrong) and partly because I wouldn’t have known what to do with the information I got (maybe wrong).

This part of the article literally made me nod emphatically while whispering, “Yea!  Of course!”  Teaching is an art, and so is learning.  The best part about teaching and learning is that, if you open yourself up to it, very often you can teach something your students will learn with energy and passion, but just as often, your students can teach you a thing or two about what works and what doesn’t, and you can learn from them.  If you let yourself.  It is a beautiful, recursive relationship that will not only keep you on your toes, but will show your students the importance and the fun – yes, fun! – of being open to information and experiences and becoming a lifelong learner.