The Drifters
"You get the behaviour that you expect." Someone said this to me when I started working as a teacher, and I found it to be, in general, very true.
It's not so much that if you expect the students to be little angels they definitely will be. It's rather that, if you expect them to riot, they most certainly will. If you have that hard-to-define "I'm in charge" thing about you, then they seem to pick it up and act accordingly. It took me a while to work out how to do it - - but eventually, I realised that when I KNEW in my head that, whilst I was speaking, they were jolly well going to LISTEN, then they did listen. Mostly, anyway.
And, these days, I just won't put up with any rubbish when I'm in any kind of teaching situation. If I've done the preparation, and put the effort in to get it all ready, and I'm doing my best to make it as interesting as possible, and I really care about it, then any class can choose to either take part or - - well - - leave. (I could phrase that less delicately, but I won't). I won't let anyone sit silently at the back either - - I just weigh in chirpily with "And what do you think, Angus?"
(That's Angus McCoatup, usually to be found hiding at the back next to Annette Curtain and Willy Eckerslike).
Somewhere in England today I was doing a roleplay for a group of healthcare students.
They were second-years. The class was supposed to begin at nine o'clock and we started the first roleplay- of three - at ten past.
During the next fifteen minutes, four more students drifted in, the last one arriving at twenty-five-past.
Although by the time the Drifters appeared we were well into the teaching session, they didn't harm my concentration, or that of the student doing the roleplay with me, because by then we were well into it. However, the bit of my brain that's thinking about the teaching session, rather than the bit that's playing the patient, clocked these late arrivals.
None of them apologised to the facilitator or to the other students or indeed to me - -not at the time, and not later on. The first three just shuffled in and sat down: they did take part in the discussion and the session generally.
Number four came in his coat, scarf and gloves - it was cold outside but we were upstairs in a warm room - and kept them on throughout, with a martyred expression as though he was somewhere in Siberia. He crossed the circle to reach a seat, and then just sat there, immobile, not joining in at all.
The students who did the roleplay were excellent and it led to a very lively discussion, except for Siberia Man, who was clearly there in body but not in spirit. He was doing the healthcare student's equivalent of "phoning it in" - which is an actors' expression for when the actor is there, onstage, theoretically acting, saying the lines, but their mind isn't on the job.
Siberia Man made me realise that, when I'm in any kind of facilitator or teacher role, I'm not very tolerant of this kind of behaviour.
This class - thirteen of whom were taking part whole-heartedly, of course - weren't a bunch of fourteen-year-olds who had to be in school - they were young adults who had chosen to do this course, and the facilitator was excellent - - though more tolerant of the Drifters than I would have been.
I had been in charge of this group, I know that things would have been done rather differently. In the first class of the year I would have explained that anything up to ten minutes late is acceptable, as a one-off, with an apology. But if you're going to arrive later than that, you don't come in. And you don't get marked present, and if that causes you problems, then that's a shame, and perhaps you'll turn up on time next week.
I've seen these Drifters again and again in all sorts of different areas of healthcare - - there are always one or two who turn up late with an expression of extreme suffering. "I would far rather be asleep in bed, but hey! I am honouring you with my presence."
The sessions I'm involved with are all about communication skills and they require - and usually get - much sensitivity from both staff and students. I think that if the students don't want to buy into that, then they shouldn't be there.
It's not so much that if you expect the students to be little angels they definitely will be. It's rather that, if you expect them to riot, they most certainly will. If you have that hard-to-define "I'm in charge" thing about you, then they seem to pick it up and act accordingly. It took me a while to work out how to do it - - but eventually, I realised that when I KNEW in my head that, whilst I was speaking, they were jolly well going to LISTEN, then they did listen. Mostly, anyway.
And, these days, I just won't put up with any rubbish when I'm in any kind of teaching situation. If I've done the preparation, and put the effort in to get it all ready, and I'm doing my best to make it as interesting as possible, and I really care about it, then any class can choose to either take part or - - well - - leave. (I could phrase that less delicately, but I won't). I won't let anyone sit silently at the back either - - I just weigh in chirpily with "And what do you think, Angus?"
(That's Angus McCoatup, usually to be found hiding at the back next to Annette Curtain and Willy Eckerslike).
Somewhere in England today I was doing a roleplay for a group of healthcare students.
They were second-years. The class was supposed to begin at nine o'clock and we started the first roleplay- of three - at ten past.
During the next fifteen minutes, four more students drifted in, the last one arriving at twenty-five-past.
Although by the time the Drifters appeared we were well into the teaching session, they didn't harm my concentration, or that of the student doing the roleplay with me, because by then we were well into it. However, the bit of my brain that's thinking about the teaching session, rather than the bit that's playing the patient, clocked these late arrivals.
None of them apologised to the facilitator or to the other students or indeed to me - -not at the time, and not later on. The first three just shuffled in and sat down: they did take part in the discussion and the session generally.
Number four came in his coat, scarf and gloves - it was cold outside but we were upstairs in a warm room - and kept them on throughout, with a martyred expression as though he was somewhere in Siberia. He crossed the circle to reach a seat, and then just sat there, immobile, not joining in at all.
The students who did the roleplay were excellent and it led to a very lively discussion, except for Siberia Man, who was clearly there in body but not in spirit. He was doing the healthcare student's equivalent of "phoning it in" - which is an actors' expression for when the actor is there, onstage, theoretically acting, saying the lines, but their mind isn't on the job.
Siberia Man made me realise that, when I'm in any kind of facilitator or teacher role, I'm not very tolerant of this kind of behaviour.
This class - thirteen of whom were taking part whole-heartedly, of course - weren't a bunch of fourteen-year-olds who had to be in school - they were young adults who had chosen to do this course, and the facilitator was excellent - - though more tolerant of the Drifters than I would have been.
I had been in charge of this group, I know that things would have been done rather differently. In the first class of the year I would have explained that anything up to ten minutes late is acceptable, as a one-off, with an apology. But if you're going to arrive later than that, you don't come in. And you don't get marked present, and if that causes you problems, then that's a shame, and perhaps you'll turn up on time next week.
I've seen these Drifters again and again in all sorts of different areas of healthcare - - there are always one or two who turn up late with an expression of extreme suffering. "I would far rather be asleep in bed, but hey! I am honouring you with my presence."
The sessions I'm involved with are all about communication skills and they require - and usually get - much sensitivity from both staff and students. I think that if the students don't want to buy into that, then they shouldn't be there.
posted by Daphne at 7:17 pm
3 Comments:
Bloody hell! If I had your attitude in secondary teaching I would often have nobody there at all! However, I certainly admire your principles re. ignorant latecomers. There's no need for egomaniacs or morons who can't even see the disruption that their selfish lateness has caused.
You two remind me of a line from W. H. Auden's poem, To The Unknown Citizen:
And his teachers report that he never interfered with their education.
:)
I hope Siberia Man fails the course. If he doesn't, I hope I am never a patient of his.
I would, however, have liked to have been a student in your class. I think students like to know where they stand with teachers and it strikes me your approach inspires mutual respect, so important in a learning environment and indeed in life. You get what you expect but also what you give.
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