Teach Joy

My group of five sixth graders scuttled in today, as always slightly topsy turvy. After settling down, we got into our activity which was a follow up to some readings we had done and videos we watched about cuttlefish. Having five preps can leave me sometimes feeling unprepared, and my lesson with the same age group the day prior had been stressful. Technology was being difficult, I didn’t explain it thoroughly enough and the personality of the class sometimes makes for a distracting environment. My emotions weren’t in a good place and I found myself getting frustrated with everything. I was impatient when they asked me questions and disciplined them in a negative way far more than usual. I went home feeling stressed and anxious. So much so that it was manifesting physically. Upon reflection and after a nice run, I realized that this was yet another mark of my perfectionism getting in the way of learning. 

I have been reading this book by Brene Brown called The Gifts of Imperfection what I read this morning was especially convicting to me. She calls out those of us who are perfectionists and her words about this unrealistic standard affecting our work colleagues and relationships, jumped out at me from the page. I have unrealistic expectations for myself, and am not satisfied if I do not feel as if I am achieving perfection, but this ends up transferring to my students. I have expectations that things will go smoothly and that my goals will be met, but when they aren’t I get frustrated and impatient. This is a very unfortunate situation to put oneself in because of the very important element called “the kid factor.” Which when added to any equation can have very different and unpredictable outcomes. Today, my goal was to go in with simpler goals for myself and my students, and to be flexible and put aside perfectionism. 

When I explained the assignment to my 6th graders, which involved creating a digital poster about the most interesting things they learned about cuttlefish from the articles and video, I had to adjust, they ended up doing it individually instead of with partners. I slowed down and modelled all of the steps of using Adobe spark, and when it ended up making more sense for us to have a standard to two pictures on our posters instead of five, I quickly agreed to a student’s request to make it so. I talked to them about crediting the author and we discussed why you would do so, they asked what do you do when there is no author? And then part of the lesson unexpectedly turned into a discussion of MLA formatting and why it is important to give the author credit. We discussed quoting and paraphrasing as well. As we continued on with the lesson, my students were sharing with each other and chatting about the various interesting pictures of cuttlefish they found on google (they are the “chameleons of the sea” so many pictures of them are completely different). They helped each other out when they came upon a technology snare with the application, and discussed the best way to save pictures to Google drive. They were simultaneously discovering how to navigate a new platform for creating media, and excited when they figured something out on their own, and yes they were laughing about the silly purple octopus pictures one of my students found, and exclaiming over the pictures of the cute baby cuttlefish. Soon they requested music and we put on some of the happy and energetic songs that they like to hear. And as they were creating, laughing, smiling and bonding, I knew that my goal had been met. There was joy in my class today. 

In thinking about how this turned out, I am now considering the idea, instead of perfectionism how do you bring joy to the classroom? How can I create a place where the standards can meld to the students, and the goals for the day change if needed? I think I need constant reminders of this, and that is why I am writing it down. If you do not have joy, then what is the point? 

Even suffering can bring about a sense of joy. There is something about a shared experience of pain that brings people together, and in an odd way, that is joyful. We can laugh through our tears, and be vulnerable in a way we otherwise couldn’t. I am writing this, because today made me think about a lesson I did with my seniors a month or so ago. Usually on Fridays, we have a powerful poem and then daily writing about said poem. They can borrow a line, an idea, or just write about what the poem brings to mind for them. It was a day when I felt there were schisms present in the class. In a class where community and connection are a big part of our routine, I was afraid of it slipping away. So I chose the poem “I Worried” by Mary Oliver. We did an around the room read, after we had finished writing, and my students listened in acceptance and compassion as their classmates shared some painful parts of their lives. Some brought tears and some brought laughter, but even in the pain there was joy. Joy that they knew their peers were there for them, in the fact that we are all humans living this experience, that you are not the only one suffering or struggling. Joy is inherent in the human connection, the knowledge that someone is out there who understands, accepts and embraces your humanity. The power of vulnerability in teaching is completely underestimated. But in my experience, bringing this authentic human experience, whether it be joy or sadness, allowing your students to be this way in your room, and mirroring and modelling vulnerability for them are the most important things we need to do for students, more so than objectives, tests, grades, or even content. Because at the end of the day, what will they remember? It is not who fought in the battle of the bulge, nor is it the difference between a simile and a metaphor. It will be the connections they made, and how you embraced their experience in the most empathetic of ways. 

I think in a rush to teach to standards and "get through" curriculum, joy and humanity are often left to the wayside. Though I wrote the majority of this last winter before Covid-19 was even on the horizon, this is ever more true now. I don't have the answers to the questions about how to bring humanity back to the classroom during these times, but I plan to try.