Just before a field trip to look for insects, I try to make everyone highly conscious of the road we'll be crossing. Thus, in as nonchalant a way as possible, I announce, "Every year I say this, and every year two or three kids don't listen and they get killed." Of course I stretch out my humor for the most mileage, and get my message across before verifying that, "Yes, I'm just kidding about the deaths, even though it could happen if we're not careful."
Tomorrow I must introduce the standardized tests. The kids won't even seem them however, until I've spent five minutes convincing them that: 1) These tests are very important for their record, even though it doesn't ultimately matter to me how they do on them, even though I'd like to see them do well; 2) They're actually fun and just a sort of mental mind game, if you have the right attitude; 3) It's good to be a little nervous, but not too much; and 4) They need to check them over if they get done early.
View yourself as an actor who strives to make even the most trivial and tedious item a matter of life and death. Or perhaps a salesman, whose job is to sell (at least some of the time) a twenty-year-old automobile, and have the owner come away feeling good about it. Naturally, we should strive to have the best products, but even these will benefit from a polished sales pitch.
Stop to discuss things. In common parlance, view much of your job as just rapping with kids. You can teach in a tangential sort of way, simply because everyone is listening to what they think is an off-the-cuff story. Especially at the elementary level, where so much of what we do is to expand the general knowledge base and familiarity with the English language.
Even when you're getting across concepts you didn't immediately have in mind, you'll often find that the kids hang on to your words and recall them months later. Perhaps this is because this is how humans normally communicate.
Consider the order in which you say things. For example, if the class is about to do a project that requires partners, should you announce first that they will need partners, or should you crystallize in their minds what they need to do first?
Of
course you should tell them what they'll be doing first. For one thing, it
might influence who they'll want for a partner; but more important is the fact
that choosing a partner requires at least a minute or two of racing around,
drumming up a partner, and getting settled down. It's much harder to get the kids'
attention after they've chosen a partner than before. In the end you may well
have to help with a few kids who others aren't keen to work with. But quietly
discussing this with those involved usually works, and there may of course be
one or two who simply prefer to do the project themselves.
Consider the order of things even in the
simplest of situations, and try to allow a reasonable amount of time for the
things you want the kids to accomplish.
Perfect your speech patterns. Learn to vary your
volume and rate of speech in a way that keeps it from sounding monotone.
Recognize that voice itself is a powerful tool and must be used in a craftsman-like
way for maximum effect. Just as singers must train their use a voice, so too
must teachers.
Learn to perfect the technique of questioning. How
exactly should you state your question? Put yourself in the position of the
child and look at it from that point of view. How long should you pause after
asking the question? Do different questions require different pauses? We must
tread the line between boring the faster students to death and allowing the slower
ones to keep up. This is art not science, and only intuition can provide the
answers.
Also, if no hands go up, are you able to scale
your question down? Perhaps you need to rephrase or simplify it three or four
times before you notice a satisfactory large response. Or perhaps you should
scrap it and answer the question yourself, or else give hints until hands start
going up. In an economics class I took recently, I noticed a great relief when
the teacher answered many of his own questions. But I think it is good to
assume that if students can answer the question, without chance of
embarrassment for the wrong answer, they will want to.
This is discussed elsewhere, but don't forget
lines like, "Who else thought that?" Or, "Who didn't think that?" or "Why do
you say that?" And so on. Yes and no answers are for computers, not humans.
Use praise wisely. Even sparingly, in spite of
warnings to the contrary. "The more praise the better" may be the consensus of
psychologists at large, and I would agree up to the point where this can be
done in a meaningful way. Beyond that, my observation is that praise loses
value at a rapid rate, and this becomes next to worthless when you actually
need it. Phony praise is transparent to the children's eyes, not to mention
wearing on the user of it.
When giving directions, employ selective
repetition. "Turn to page 138," for example, you know will need to be repeated,
so why not plan to say it three times, with sensitized spacing in between. I
personally would write the page number on the board. Many directions are best
repeated, not to encourage lack of listening the first time, but because it's
easier to repeat directions before half the class asks what you've said.
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