My 30 years as an educator were spent in middle school. Year one of retirement has given me the opportunity to act as a volunteer tutor in a 4th grade writing classroom at my local elementary school. While a good chunk of my time is spent pulling an ESL student and providing some one-on-one learning time, I occasionally have a chance to be a fly on the wall watching this amazing classroom of learners become better writers.
Observation 1: So much of what we thought was new to our middle schoolers already was introduced to them in elementary school. Not only do they learn compound sentences in the 4th grade, but they learn complex sentences too. Why did we re-introduce these structures as if they were brand new ideas to our students in middle school? Are we missing out on the opportunity to let them figure out they already know what we’re talking about?
I observed a group of students gathered on the floor with editing sheets in hand. I observed the majority of the students had come to the floor with the needed edit of adding a comma before the conjunction in the compound sentence. As the teacher facilitated the learning by modeling with the document camera, I heard a student suggest adding the comma.
The teacher curiously asked, “Why?”
At that question more hands were raised in the air. Another student was called on and replied, “You have to have a comma in front of the conjunction.”
Another question from the teacher, “Do you always need a comma before that conjunction?”
More hands shot up in the air. Yet another student was called on and added, “You need it here because it’s putting two sentences together. You have to have a comma before the conjunction when it puts 2 sentences together.”
What else did I notice? Routines and procedures were definitely in place in this classroom. No one shouted out an answer, no one spoke without being called on, students actually listened to one another’s responses. I noticed there weren’t distractions surrounding the students. Each student used his “office” as a lap desk; the only paper in front of the student was the edit practice page, and the only writing instrument was the colored pencil the student was using to correct his own paper.
I also noticed the mutual respect that filled the classroom. These students took responsibility for being in charge of their learning. Before going to the floor, I overheard one student say to her teacher, “My office isn’t in my desk.” The teacher didn’t solve the problem for her. Instead she said. “You are so smart. What do you think you can do about that problem? I know you can solve it.” The student glanced to another desk that still had an unused office. “Can I take that one?” The teacher continued, “See. I knew you could solve that problem without me.”
I thought about how I would have handled the same situation. Pressed for time, I probably would have grabbed the unused “office” and handed it to the student. But what message would I be sending? Would I be setting this student up to be a problem solver and independent learner, or would I be sending the message that she couldn’t make it in the classroom without me to solve her problem?
How is solving the problem of the missing “office” related to the successful editing? Maybe the two have nothing to do with one another, but maybe they do. If we don’t set up our students with clear routines and procedures and truly believe that they can meet our expectations for those independently, then how can we set them up to believe they can master the content? Pressed for time, do we sometimes just give the edit corrections? Or if we do have the time to call on students, do we make the time to discuss the right answer? Do we as teachers facilitate a student-led discussion of the content?
As for me, I like having the time to be the fly on the wall and to think about what makes this learning happen.
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