One Philosophy to Rule Them All . . .

When I began teaching, the ideals of what I wanted to accomplish as an educator were not just rose-tinted, they were ruby red, re:see previous post, “inspirational montage” . . . and then I walked into the classroom and was confronted by the reality that I was no more prepared to be a teacher as my students were to be, well, students.  To that end, I have compiled a short list . . . commandments . . . philosophies . . . I have as an educator.    

1. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes.  Mistakes come with the job.  Great educators aren’t born, they are created in the flames of Mordor.  Every mistake you make as an educator is an opportunity to learn and grow.  

2. Don’t be afraid to admit when you don’t know something.  Just because we are super-human, almighty educators, doesn’t mean that we possess all the knowledge in the heavens and on earth, Horatio.  That’s what Google is for.  

3. Don’t be afraid of being the “mean” teacher.  Set clear and firm boundaries and expectations for your students.  If you are so busy dealing with classroom management, you will have no time to teach.  Sometimes Miss Nelson just isn’t enough and you need to pull a Viola Swamp.  

4. Don’t be afraid to assign homework.  Practice makes perfect, or so the saying goes.  Just because you gave a lecture and taught a lesson in long division, that doesn’t mean that your students will remember all your pearly words of wisdom.

5. Teach students to be critical, independent, well-reasoned thinkers possessing common sense.  Critical analysis is essential for student success.  Students need to be able to generate evidence based claims and see through unsupported arguments.  These are skills that will serve them both in school . . . in life . . . in Presidential elections.

6. Use technology with a purpose.  Just like when writing a paper you wouldn’t pepper your paper with out-of-context examples.  When teaching, you shouldn’t show a video just for the sake of showing a video.  Except for cats riding on robot vacuum cleaners. . . those are always relevant.  

7. Encourage and utilize open dialogue, project based learning, video, and other forms of multi-media, music, art, and movement to further the learning process.  Not every student learns through note-taking and lectures.  Learning should be messy, creative, and fun.  As Albert Einstein said: "That is the way to learn the most, that when you are doing something with such enjoyment that you don't notice that the time passes." Worksheets and notes do not educate students.  Relevant, enjoyable interaction with the material, instructor, and classmates goes a long way to ensuring students are able to retain what they are learning.

8. Assess, assess, assess.  Assessment ensures learning is taking place.  It doesn’t need to be complicated.  Assessment can be as simple as well-designed rubrics, AVID/Cornell Notes, close reading practices, as well as, group discussion, project based learning, independent and peer assessment.   Stop, drop, and check understanding.

The Dreaded “S” Word . . . Studying

When I first began teaching GED, I naively believed that if I assigned it, the students would study it.  Funny, right?  Over the ensuing semesters I found this reticence to studying usually fell into one of two categories: 1. Learners didn’t know how to study, or 2. They didn’t think they had time to study.

We all know that it is a truth, universally acknowledged, that students need to make sacrifices for their education.  However, for many students, they don’t know where to begin.  

This gave me the unique opportunity to teach more than just the material on the test.  

Helping students build life skills and study skills is sometimes just as important as the academic content.  All the math lectures and writing practices in the world won’t make a difference if the learner doesn’t know how to prioritize study time and organize their schedules to make time to study.  

At the beginning of each semester I began to focus on building organizational skills and the all important study skills.  I would have each student map out their daily routine and schedule their individual study time.  I have found that this small change can empower students, and help them build confidence in their academic abilities.  

“You're Gonna Need a Bigger Boat”

There is nothing that could have properly prepared me for teaching adults.  Let me say that again.  There is nothing that could have prepared me for teaching adults.  

That first night of class I thought I knew what to expect.  After all, I was a “child” of Harry Wong, Madeline Hunter, and Malcolm Knowles.  My classroom management skills were solid and I could whip out an anticipatory set like no one’s business.  

I was set . . . I was ready . . . I was about to jump into shark infested waters with nary a life jacket in sight.    

Sauntering into class in carefully selected, teacher appropriate attire carrying a 1000+ page GED book, a detailed syllabus that put the transcript of the State of the Union address to shame, a stack of worksheets (that I paid to have made at the local Kinkos), and a fresh package of dry erase markers, I was ready to take on the world.

That night I introduced myself as Ms. Cohen, but Chum would have been more appropriate.

Looking out into the sea of thirty adult learners, the first few notes of the Jaws theme played in my head, as I saw that only about five students had books.  A few more notes played as I realized only a few more students had paper and pens.  By the time I was passing out the syllabus, and saying for the tenth time, “Yes, you have to buy the book.  Yes, there is homework.  Yes, you are required to do the homework.”, the entire theme was on repeat and I was frantically searching for the Coast Guard.  

I couldn’t understand why adults, who needed to pass their GED test to 1. get a better job, 2. keep their current job, 3. go to college, etc. were not ready and willing to do everything necessary to prepare.  

Chomp.  Chomp.  Chomp.

This was the first of many lessons I would learn that first semester.  

At first, I saw these learners as unmotivated students, but as I grew as an educator, I began to see what my students weren’t unmotivated.  

They were scared.

Scared of failing.

Scared of learning.

And ultimately scared of changing.

It seems counterintuitive that someone would register and pay for a class to facilitate a fundamental life change then not want to change, but that doesn’t make it any less true.  

I found that “Do I have to buy a book?” was usually code for “I don’t know how I’m going to make rent, so how am I supposed to afford a book?”

“Is there homework?” usually meant “You expect me to make mistakes when I’ve already failed at this whole school thing before and I’m afraid of failing again?”

“Do I have to do the homework?” usually meant “How am I supposed to organize my already chaotic life to include chapters of reading and papers when I work full time and I’m raising a family?”

I bet this is where you think I was thrown a life jacket or better yet, rescued by the Coast Guard.  

While there was no great rescue, I did learn how to tread water and eventually how to swim to shore.  

I wish I had ready answers on how to solve all student problems, but I don’t.  There aren’t “Five Tricks to Engaging All Adult Learners”.  Every student is different.  Every situation is different.  However, I have learned over the years that sometimes it takes more than academics to prepare adult learners for future success.  Sometimes it takes not teaching.  Sometimes it takes sitting and listening to their ambitions and fears.  Sometimes it means tossing out everything you ever learned about how a classroom is supposed to run and letting your students tell you what they need.    

In the Beginning . . .

When I was hired to teach GED almost a decade ago, I was convinced that teaching would be one inspirational montage after another.  I would have perfect attendance in my class.  Students would hang on my every word of perfect wisdom.  Every student would pass every section of the test the first time and then register for college.  It was going to be glorious!

After processing a textbook worth of paperwork with Human Resources, I was directed to the campus bookstore where I had to purchase the book from which I was expected to teach, given a few boxes of outdated materials left by a previous instructor (and by outdated, I mean that the social studies material still had Reagan listed as President), and pointed to the copy machine with the admonishment that I was only to make twenty copies per week (there were over thirty students registered in the class).  

But even in the face of overwhelming odds, my starry-eyed determination to change the world one GED student at a time wasn’t diminished.  Oh, no!  I had “new instructor” rose-tinted-ruby glasses firmly perched on my nose.  (You can quit laughing, now.  Yes, you in the back.  Don’t think that I don’t see you.)      

Fast forward about ten years and over a thousand students later.  I think back to those first few years and roll my eyes at my naive hubris.  

Teaching GED isn’t for the faint of heart.  It takes a special kind of crazy to do what we do.  Years of curriculum design, teaching pedagogy, and educational theory fly right out the window the minute you enter a GED classroom.  This is instruction in its purest form.  It’s down and dirty, mud in your face, wallowing through the trenches rough . . . and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Which brings me to the reason for starting this blog.  I want to share my experiences (war stories) as an instructor, and possibly motivate and inspire other instructors along the way.