Trials and Tribe-relations
Since we already know that stress, anxiety and depression come as the result of being left out, ostracized and feeling alone why do we continue to put our staff, students, and even communities in jeopardy? Our very own health depends on the collaboration and support we get from others. So if we care to create a culture of autonomy we cannot afford a lack of leadership; we must recognize the need for developing stronger tribes among fellow educators, PLNs, parents, communities and most of all, our children.
By visualizing what our intentions are and what we want our tribe to look like--even sound like, then we can build an environment that is rich in empathy. As a middle school teacher, I know my part is to give students a chance to play out various roles of leadership, so developing relationships is essential for cultivating a healthy classroom. At the beginning of a school year, I spend a lot of our "instructional" time creating get-to-know-you activities for my students, so I can observe them and watch how they interact with each other. The "Marshmallow Challenge" is just one of the many ways I do this; I see when students take the lead, whether physically putting materials together or talking it out with peers. I notice who is quiet, loud, neutral; a stander, a sitter, a mover, etc. Listening to my students in the first few days we have together tells me a lot and not only guides us to a student driven classroom, but also establishes our roots as a strong tribe of learners.
When designing a student-centered classroom, I visualize what my students will need in order to be successful: a safe refuge of trust; materials, space, and time. Once I think about our non-negotiables, I listen to our class and begin to hear students contemplate and share information with each other as they hold one another accountable and give honest feedback. I actively listen for laughter when they thrive, and sense their frustration when situations get tough. Within our tribe, me might become overwhelmed by an uncertainty that surfaces, but because we empathize with each other we know how to pull ourselves back together, encourage a new path, and move forward. As their leader, I learn to sacrifice my own vision for theirs and trust they see something that I may not. Together, we work hard to understand each other so we can feel at ease sharing our most passionate insights.
Now here comes the broken infrastructure. I see it and feel it as soon as I walk into the dark, cold teacher's lounge, when sometimes all that is buzzing is the sound of the refrigerators or the dull, white noise bouncing between the walls. People look haggard, they sound annoyed with each other, they complain about a day that is too long, and seemingly joyless. I hear teachers complaining about their students, that so and so doesn't try and how poorly their 3rd or 4th period class is behaving. Why would anyone want to stay and mingle during the measly 25 minute lunch break? For a while I did. I would go so that I could see my colleagues during our break, laugh, and tell stories about our lives. But midway through even just the first semester, I found myself back at my desk, alone for 25 minutes as I restored my energy and geared up for the rest of the day. After reading a few good books this summer, and several mindful blogs posted by friends in my PLN, I realized that I have to take action and build a tribe of educators. That I can no longer walk away, throw in the towel and expect someone else to visualize what we need as teachers to be successful--I already know, we need each other. We must build our own safe, refuge and share our ideas; hold ourselves accountable and give real, honest, genuine feedback. We must leave our classrooms and seek help from each other when situations are challenging, ask questions or invite one another in. And we must give ourselves permission to let go of the pressure of having all of the answers because we don't.
Our principal came on last year new and made a giant effort to understand the culture of our school. In fact, he spent an entire year meeting with each of the staff members on campus and asking us what we value, and what is unique about our organization. At the end of the year, he shared that a majority of people in our building feel a sense of belonging, that we are family and can count on one another especially when times get tough. I had my own experience just last year when our house flooded. Not only did our community help my family, but my school helped rebuild our lives. But, there is a disconnect and something very broken about our tribe on my campus: empathy. While many of us reach out to others during grief, tragedy, and hardship, the day to day struggles must be considered too. We cannot afford to wait until tragedy strikes for us to help our colleagues, people we see every day. Instead, the educator --you and I, must make the effort to understand each other. Because if you don't understand my weakness nor my strengths, and I have no understanding of yours we cannot help each other grow. If we demand that our students gather life experiences, work closely with their peers, and become aware of the sensitivities and feelings of others, shouldn't we ask that of ourselves?
Next year will be very new for me. I'll start by having students open up boxes of books to build our classroom library; they will have a wooden pallet, paint, stencils, nails, and a hammer to make their tea station area; they will have access to my old teacher's desk to use as a news panel for discussions; they will build a crime scene-like board to track their findings, and they will be front and center as they work together as a strong unit of curious thinkers and mindful collaborators. You might wonder where I will be? I'll be there, but I might also be across the hallway in your room seeing what you're students are doing, asking you questions, or telling you to stop by our room when you can. I also see myself in the lounge pulling up those darn wooden blinds to let the light in, writing a fun fact on the white board behind the coffee machine, or loosening up the tension with a good, face-to-face joke or two with you.
By visualizing what our intentions are and what we want our tribe to look like--even sound like, then we can build an environment that is rich in empathy. As a middle school teacher, I know my part is to give students a chance to play out various roles of leadership, so developing relationships is essential for cultivating a healthy classroom. At the beginning of a school year, I spend a lot of our "instructional" time creating get-to-know-you activities for my students, so I can observe them and watch how they interact with each other. The "Marshmallow Challenge" is just one of the many ways I do this; I see when students take the lead, whether physically putting materials together or talking it out with peers. I notice who is quiet, loud, neutral; a stander, a sitter, a mover, etc. Listening to my students in the first few days we have together tells me a lot and not only guides us to a student driven classroom, but also establishes our roots as a strong tribe of learners.
When designing a student-centered classroom, I visualize what my students will need in order to be successful: a safe refuge of trust; materials, space, and time. Once I think about our non-negotiables, I listen to our class and begin to hear students contemplate and share information with each other as they hold one another accountable and give honest feedback. I actively listen for laughter when they thrive, and sense their frustration when situations get tough. Within our tribe, me might become overwhelmed by an uncertainty that surfaces, but because we empathize with each other we know how to pull ourselves back together, encourage a new path, and move forward. As their leader, I learn to sacrifice my own vision for theirs and trust they see something that I may not. Together, we work hard to understand each other so we can feel at ease sharing our most passionate insights.
Now here comes the broken infrastructure. I see it and feel it as soon as I walk into the dark, cold teacher's lounge, when sometimes all that is buzzing is the sound of the refrigerators or the dull, white noise bouncing between the walls. People look haggard, they sound annoyed with each other, they complain about a day that is too long, and seemingly joyless. I hear teachers complaining about their students, that so and so doesn't try and how poorly their 3rd or 4th period class is behaving. Why would anyone want to stay and mingle during the measly 25 minute lunch break? For a while I did. I would go so that I could see my colleagues during our break, laugh, and tell stories about our lives. But midway through even just the first semester, I found myself back at my desk, alone for 25 minutes as I restored my energy and geared up for the rest of the day. After reading a few good books this summer, and several mindful blogs posted by friends in my PLN, I realized that I have to take action and build a tribe of educators. That I can no longer walk away, throw in the towel and expect someone else to visualize what we need as teachers to be successful--I already know, we need each other. We must build our own safe, refuge and share our ideas; hold ourselves accountable and give real, honest, genuine feedback. We must leave our classrooms and seek help from each other when situations are challenging, ask questions or invite one another in. And we must give ourselves permission to let go of the pressure of having all of the answers because we don't.
Our principal came on last year new and made a giant effort to understand the culture of our school. In fact, he spent an entire year meeting with each of the staff members on campus and asking us what we value, and what is unique about our organization. At the end of the year, he shared that a majority of people in our building feel a sense of belonging, that we are family and can count on one another especially when times get tough. I had my own experience just last year when our house flooded. Not only did our community help my family, but my school helped rebuild our lives. But, there is a disconnect and something very broken about our tribe on my campus: empathy. While many of us reach out to others during grief, tragedy, and hardship, the day to day struggles must be considered too. We cannot afford to wait until tragedy strikes for us to help our colleagues, people we see every day. Instead, the educator --you and I, must make the effort to understand each other. Because if you don't understand my weakness nor my strengths, and I have no understanding of yours we cannot help each other grow. If we demand that our students gather life experiences, work closely with their peers, and become aware of the sensitivities and feelings of others, shouldn't we ask that of ourselves?
Next year will be very new for me. I'll start by having students open up boxes of books to build our classroom library; they will have a wooden pallet, paint, stencils, nails, and a hammer to make their tea station area; they will have access to my old teacher's desk to use as a news panel for discussions; they will build a crime scene-like board to track their findings, and they will be front and center as they work together as a strong unit of curious thinkers and mindful collaborators. You might wonder where I will be? I'll be there, but I might also be across the hallway in your room seeing what you're students are doing, asking you questions, or telling you to stop by our room when you can. I also see myself in the lounge pulling up those darn wooden blinds to let the light in, writing a fun fact on the white board behind the coffee machine, or loosening up the tension with a good, face-to-face joke or two with you.
Agree that the culture and community of a school is an important element in supporting great teachers to do great teaching. Love that you're willing to put yourself out there to be a leader by demonstrating what it is you're looking for as well. Often all it takes is one...
ReplyDeleteColleen @MrsCHeidrich
Tricia - this speaks to what I'm focusing on this next school year, as well. I feel like I've got a "good-enough" base with my students that now I can focus on relationships with peers. Asking the valuable questions - about them, their lives, their plans, etc. I'm actually going to make a spreadsheet like I do with my "good calls home" to parents. I'm going to make sure I check in with teachers around the building - just stopping by and saying hello! I'm with you. Let's DO this! Thank you for writing this!
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