classroom culture & community

I am not sure when the epiphany really hit me that, as a secondary educator teaching six out of seven periods a day or three out of four when I was in a district with block scheduling, the concept that every class possesses their own identity is truth. The truth. The most truest of trues. If you think otherwise, you are doing your scholars and yourself a disservice. And it's more than just thinking that 5th period takes too long to get situated and 1st period is always sleepy and after lunch 4th period has to go to the bathroom and 2nd period is the groups that are friends and talk -- nah, the truth is much deeper than that. But you only learn their identity when you understand that you yourself are a member of the community, not a ruler over the community.

Exhibit A: my current 6th period.

19 scholars.

18 who fist-bump me as they walk in.

17 BIPOC scholars.

14 who identify as male.

10 or more who don't see the point in what they learn at school.

7 first-time they've ever finished an entire book readers.

6 football players who come straight from athletics with lunch in their hands.

5 who identify as female.

4 who ask for a snack every day (which I provide).

3 avid readers.

2 who call me mom.

2 who have been besties for years.

1 self-proclaimed future doctor.

1 female boxer.

1 who gives me a piece of candy every day.

1 LGBTQ+.

1 who is dating a former scholar.

1 who has his own handshake with me.

1 theatre actor.

1 teacher.

1 orchestra musician.

Look, the list goes on and on, some of which I cannot or will not share in violation of their privacy and/or rights. Nevertheless, you have a snapshot in your head that hopefully is close to a version of who 6th period collectively is.

All of that to say this: 6th period is a family. We laugh, we interrupt, we support, we learn, we tease, we encourage, we horseplay, we work, and we love. However, when the comfortableness causes complacency, a family needs to reset expectations.

I'm sure every teacher has experienced the realization that the newness or excitement has worn off for a class causing everyone to become stuck in a rut that limits the teacher's expectations of scholars as well as the scholars expectations of the class or teacher. If unaddressed, this vicious cycle will rinse and repeat for the remainder of the year becoming detrimental. I speak from personal and observational experience.

My 6th period has matured a tremendous amount since day one and even over Christmas break, but January hits hard in education, and those 31 days can drag on and on and on. And boy did they for 6th period! Maybe being away from our community caused cracks in the foundation we had built together. Maybe old habits reformed while out of the routine. Maybe I focused on the wrong things. Maybe they're used to people giving up on them. But I refuse to be included in that group.

In January, our 6th period had experienced a couple of frustrating class periods where we could not stay collectively focused. Additionally, one of my IC's (instructional coach) noted during a post-informal observation conference that a table or two appeared to distract one another and suggested a one-warning rule before moving a scholar to a new seat. (I allow scholars to choose their seat if it is not a disruption to their or their peers' ability to learn.)

Something had to be done other than warnings or patiently waiting for our community to naturally reshape. Moving a distractor caused more of a scene in the midst of me conferring with another scholar, and with two distracting groups I ended up moving someone two days in a row. But that move only addressed their behavior, not the root of the issue which is their perspective of themselves as a scholar. By putting behavior at the forefront of my interactions, I was spotlighting poor choices instead of highlighting good choices.

Thursday

I announce that their choices have shown me that we need a new perspective which is teacher talk for a seating chart.

"Ahhhhh Miss! At least give us one more day!"

"Ma'am...ma'am...I'm good though right? I've been focused...sitting here by myself."

"Way to go! You messed it up."

Class ended a few moments later after I clarified that this was a final decision. Not proud of it, but then someone pushed their friend jokingly and the other whined about it loudly even though that's all they do and somehow almost knocked over a lamp, so I raised my voice and told them to "Get out now."

Three scholars lagged behind. One who was waiting for passing period so he could dunk on the basketball goal hanging on the door with the nerf ball, one who was settled into the couch trying to recover from their anxiety being triggered earlier that day, and one who was pleading his case for his seat. "Miss...Woodson, I been doin my work. Please don't move me." I exhale. He offers to have a distracting scholar/friend move next to him so he can keep him in line. This particular scholar and I have a history of conversations centered around him being a leader. He chose 'leader' as his 2020 word. I nodded and we dapped each other up. "ight Mrs. Woodson, Ima fuh witchu," (if you are unaware, urban dictionary explains that this is an expression meaning you are chill with someone) he says walking toward the door. "Ima fuh witchu," I respond and kick my feet up on my desk. The hooper passes me the ball to place on the bookshelves behind my desk and collects his bags. "Alright Mrs. Woodson, I hope you have a good rest of your day," he says as we fist-bump. "Thank you, you too," I call after him.

I spent the entire 7th period conference muttering under my breath because triangle desks are stupid hard to draw, sketching each of the 24 desks in my weird creative layout of my room, and considering the best possible place for each scholar to achieve success as well as space to small group conference that allows me to be in the midst of the community.

Friday

I ushered out scholars who like to hang in the room and chat between 5th and 6th period to the hall so that I could shut the always locked door. In the hallway outside my door to the right is a desk. The desk serves two main purposes: a perch for me to sit during every passing period so that I can engage with scholars of the hall and greet every scholar with a fist-bump. The door is never shut during a passing period.

6th period scholars begin to show up and try to walk through the shut door. Calmly, I ask them to form a line against the wall and wait. As the next few show up, they start to inform one another. One asks "Why?" And I reply, "So that I can show you to your new seat one at a time." It's like wild fire. The news travels down the now double-digit line of sophomores outside my classroom in the still bustling hallway. I sit on the perch; I'm not angry, I'm not enjoying this, but I am focused on resetting how we interact with each other as a family. Somehow the respect for ourselves as learners and each other had gotten lost, and that is unacceptable for our community. The bell rings. The three who had stayed after yesterday all try to stand around me instead of in line, I calmly ask them to please get in line with the rest of the scholars so that we can enter the classroom. The scholar who pleaded his case for his seat persists that he shouldn't lose his seat, and I just quietly ask him, "Do you trust me?" He nods and shuffles to the end of the line.

I step in the front and center of the group and inform them that a seat has been chosen for them, it is non-negotiable, no they cannot switch, no they cannot face a different way, and yes this is because I care about them. I add that they can get their fist-bump as I show them to their new seat and to please wait at the door until I invite you in. My intent is not to reclaim the space as my own, but is to demonstrate the respect we all need to practice for the space and how we engage with it as well as each other.

Several scholars need a gentle but firm reminder when they try to follow in once the person in front of them enters, but they apologize and step back to wait for their individual invitation. The perspective is shifting before our eyes. Once everyone is seated, I change the slide on the smartboard to our "Independent Reading" slide and begin to instruct everyone to get their books out. Three scholars try to call out and ask me something (another poor habit we had become accustomed to), but I place one hand up to signal for them to wait and I add, "After I get the 10-minute timer started and take attendance, I will come around individually to each of you so please be patient," and they nod pulling their books out along with every other scholar.

Timer is started and attendance is taken in two minutes tops. I look up and scan the room; almost everyone has their choice book out. I only have to prompt one scholar who is taking in his new perspective of the room to actually take off his backpack so that he can retrieve his book and read. He snaps out of his scanning of the space, slips his backpack off, and pulls out his book. I speak with each of the three scholars who needed my attention quietly, at their eye level, and problem-solve each need. Five minutes left on the timer and everyone is reading (maybe two are just staring at the page). To be honest, I am not sure that had ever happened.

Once our timer goes off, I ask the class who needs to present their slam poem. Hands are raised, one scholar needs a charger so he pulls a seat over near me and uses mine, and I record the nine names in my 6th period notebook. "Alright, who wants to go first?" Short pause, and scholars begin to volunteer.

"I want to go second to last."

"Oh I'll go third to last!"

"I'll go first Miss!"

And together we establish the order of performances in a respectful organized chaos. I explained slam poetry norms as described by Clint Smith III:

1) If you like what someone says or how the line they wrote hits, you snap

2) If you really like what a poet says, you can do the whole chocolate melting in your mouth "mmmmmmm" sound

3) And if you really like a line or the idea presented by a poet, you can fake faint into your friend, but let's try not to do that too much because this ain't church (laughter)

4) After the poem concludes, you clap

But what happens next is the why behind my action to reset the 6th period community. Scholars, one by one, share their slam poems. With each poem, the room is still, phones are tucked away in backpacks, eyes are on the poet, heads nod, and applause follows each poem like an exclamation point. More than that, scholars begin encouraging the next up poet as he/she walks to the front of the room with "You got this!" and "Here we go!" After one poem expressing his love for his crush, the scholar next to me who is charging his laptop jumps up exclaiming, "MANNNN come here!" with his arms open wide. "Give me a hug man! That poem...I need a copy of that poem...wow!" And the two embrace. After all nine scholars perform, they try to convince the hooper to read his poem, especially the one who had worked with the hooper during peer revisions. But he declined. I moved us into independent work or reading, and as a community we transitioned smoothly.

Making a new seating chart is not the solution here. It is every detail surrounding the design, implementation, tone, and purpose that creates a positive impact. The community is centered on accountability and inclusivity. We must hold onto this belief and let it be the compass for all the decisions we make, but especially within the decisions we make for our classroom communities. There is so much more left for us to learn from one another.