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.
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