Instead of a guest blogger this week, we would like to take the time to thank our partner Ednewscolorado.org. I interned for this wonderful organization during my sophomore year of college at the University of Colorado at Boulder. No other resource offers the detail, depth, and commentary, which Ednews provides for all Colorado education related news. After getting their newsletter for years, it truly was a thrill for me to see my name included in the articles provided this week. We here at NorthtoSouthEducation are looking forward to a wonderful relationship with this influential organization.

I’ve just begun my first week of classes with MTR: Culture and Worldviews and Classroom Leadership. The following are my reflections from our lesson and readings on setting expectations for students…

It seems intuitive that the use of words is integrally tied to the learning process. In my undergraduate career as an English major, my entire field of study was based on reading words, interpreting words, and writing words for a grade. However, it also seems funny that  something simple, letters arranged in specific combinations to signify images and ideas, has the capability to drastically impact the results of student achievement.

According to Research for Better Teaching, President John Saphier claims that teachers are the most important factor in student learning (click the link to watch the video). Perhaps this is because they control many of the words students see and hear in order to learn. The way that teachers talk to students and talk about students can determine the way that students grasp knowledge. Think about the following two examples:

“Class, this year our goal is for 95% of you to complete all of your homework assignments on time.”

“Class, this year we will settle for nothing less than 100% of you finishing 100% of your homework assignments on time.”

Note the difference? In the first example, the teacher initially sets up her classroom as an environment where it’s expected that not everyone will succeed. That teacher is setting his own bar for his students and himself (translation: I will work only hard enough to see that almost all of you succeed, but, well, I know a few of you will never finish everything on time). Despite the marginal difference in percentages, the 5% lowered expectation drastically changes the self-imposed expectations for students. The second teacher essentially puts the onus onto her students for them to finish each and every one of their homework assignments on time. She will not settle for anything less than 100% effort from 100% of the people inside the classroom.

Not only can teachers’ words to their students affect student learning, but teachers speaking about students not only demonstrates how they view their students, but furthermore, affects every interaction with them. Here’s another example of the way that words affect students:

“Most of my students come from single-parent, low income households. I know that they have enormous gaps in their education, probably don’t read much at home, and so my job will be to fill in the things that they are lacking.”

“Most of my students come from single-parent, low income households. Many of them are from immigrant families where English isn’t spoken at home. Their diverse backgrounds will cause a great variety of discussion in class. I think they’ll have a lot to teach the rest of their classmates.”

Again, note the difference? These two (fictional) teachers are speaking about the same population of students, yet the first teacher discusses her students in such a way that deems them deficient, whereas the second teacher views his students as asset-based. He sees his students as fully functioning members of the classroom, rich with diverse experiences and knowledge. In these two instances, the way that the teachers speak about their students represents the way that they view their students: the first, as lacking understanding, and the second, as full of unique gifts. These views greatly influence the beliefs that teachers have about what their students are capable of, which in turn, influences how teachers view their own position as student-impacters.

As teachers and leaders, we each need to pay special attention to the way that we speak about the students in our classrooms. Calling students “at-risk” or “deficient” can create a self-fulfilling prophecy of risky or deficient behavior. It is not acceptable for teachers to define students by what they lack or to accept low-quality on false presuppositions of their abilities.  Obviously it’s important to note the various differences between students which are in part caused by economic and social differences. However, viewing differences as deficiencies tends to color the ways teachers conceive of their students abilities and how they expect their students to perform.

Words, in spite of being small, are incredibly powerful. They have the power to shape the way a teacher views their students, which in turn, affects the ways that teachers treat their students. Furthermore, words have the power to shape the way a student sees himself–either as asset-based or deficient, as a part of the 100% or the 5% exception.

Let’s use words to build.

Two years ago, I was sitting in a circle of chairs with fellow 4th and 5th grade story tellers at a Montessori school in Boulder, CO. I told them the beginning of a story about Rotten Tots the homeless man who was looking for place to live, and then I had each student give an example of what could happen next to Mr. Tots in the story. Their continuations were typical. However, half way around the circle, a 4th grader, let’s call him Mark, had decided that sitting with his head hanging from the chair and his feet up in the air would help him think better. Seeing this as an opportunity to be “innovators”, all the story tellers reversed their direction of sitting, including myself. I commented, “This is it! We can look at a story one way, but looking at it in a different way can be even more exciting!” The learners laughed and thought of incredibly creative examples to continue the story with their head on the ground.

Now, I’m going to tell this story again from a Teach for Americaesque approach according to what I’ve learned through training this week.

Two years ago, I was sitting in a circle of desks with the class of 2016 in an elementary school in Denver, CO (the year indicates the year they will graduate college). I wanted to teach them about brainstorming. I wrote the word “present” on a timeline and drew three different arrows branching from the line to indicate three different paths for the future. I wrote down three things I could be doing at the same time next year: living in Jamaica, playing the piano, or teaching. This was the “I do” part of the lesson. Then, I asked a student, let’s call him Mark, “where do you want to be in one year?” He excitedly answered, “I want to be in 5th grade after passing the state writing test.” This was the “we do” part of the lesson. I gave him a HollaDollar for participating. Afterward, I allowed each student to finish their their own webs, the “you do” part of the lesson plan. As they left class, they had homework to brainstorm three different professions they would want to work in, which would allow me to know more about the students and know whether or not they understand brainstorming.

What a difference!? To only imagine what students learned in each lesson! I’m a Dewyist, discovery-man at heart, but I’m very interested in seeing how Teach for America changes how I think about education.

Memphis, Tennessee is a city with a rich historical background, fraught with oppression and segregation, that is now working to fight it’s way toward equality. I’ve currently been in Memphis for almost a week now, trying to survive the heat and humidity, but basking in the warm Southern hospitality shown everywhere I visit. From the gas station to the grocery store parking lot to the library, people here are genuinely friendly and willing to help you accomplish whatever mission you set out for yourself. The other day I was picking up some furniture for my apartment at a thrift store and asked a woman for directions. She told me a couple of times how to get to where I needed to go and then said to me, “You know, why don’t you just follow me out? I’m headin’ that way anyway!” Almost everywhere I go in public, strangers make friendly conversation with me. It reminds me of an idyllic picture I have of the South where two old friends will sit on their rockers on an oversized front porch, drinking sweet tea and watching the neighborhood children ride bikes through a sleepy street. It is this genteel Southern nature that in my opinion, places Memphis at an extraordinary advantage to fixing the egregious oppression of the past.

Memphis is an old Southern city, placed at the corner of Tennessee, Arkansas, and Mississippi, spilling over into all three of the states. Its location was chosen for its proximity to the Mississippi River, which made it a harbor for shipping and transit, and for its bluff which prevented the city from being destructed by flooding and tornadoes. In the mid-1800s, Memphis was a quiet city, with a booming cotton industry (due almost entirely to the slave population). During the Civil War, many black slaves escaped their plantations and settled in Memphis, thus marking the racial battle for territory and prosperity in the city. Throughout the next century and a half, the poorly educated black families would struggle for jobs, rights, and freedom in a city wracked with racism. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was shot in the Lorraine Motel in downtown Memphis, forever changing the battle for racial justice in America.

I was fortunate enough to visit the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis and was blown away by the progression of the Civil Rights Movement in America. One of the things that struck me the most was a sign that was created by a student attending a Freedom School. The sign read “Sometimes in fear, we tread gently when we should STOMP!” In conjunction with this sign were journal entries from Freedom School students who wrote that by attending school, they would be risking their lives. One little girl wrote that “this will be a bloody, bloody summer” for her in her school. These students risked everything so that they could learn the skills they needed to fight for their rights and to wholly own their roles as citizens.

In two months, I will be entering my classroom for the first time, fearful I won’t be good enough to give something of value to my students. I will be in charge of close to a hundred students for eight hours a day, five days a week. I will be accountable for their daily lessons, their assignments, and their consistent growth. I have a lot resting on my shoulders! It would easy for me to let me fear overtake me, do a mediocre job, and to allow my fear to dictate my “treading gently.” Thankfully, I have been encouraged by a voice from the past to not tread gently, but to STOMP.

Memphis, get ready.

One week ago I put on the license plates to the first vehicle that I have ever bought, my dad’s 1978 Ford pickup.  The beige truck has a shifter a couple feet high, a clutch several inches off the ground, and rust on more than one part of the body; it’s old.

Concerned for my safety, my parents entrusted the car to a self proclaimed “dirty, rotten, rat bastard” to fix the truck for the road.  To say the least, the self-taught mechanic, our rat bastard, resurrected the dead.  He used an old license plate to patch a hole in the flooring.  He placed gorilla tape covered in brown paint to hide parts of the body where rust had eaten through the steel, and he replaced multiple parts.  In the end, the mechanic said the car runs on duck tape, twine, and the grace of god.

I’ve told many people about this beauty.  Generally I get the reaction, “Oh, you’ll fit right in where you’re teaching.”

After the truck was ready, my dad and I began the trip from Dillon, Colorado to  Cleveland, Mississippi headed toward the Teach For America Delta Institute.  When we left at 4:30am, it seemed like the truck was going to make it.  However, an hour and a half into the trip, a sequence of noises filled the truck: SCRRR, BANG, WHA?  I looked back toward the road and the muffler of the truck was bouncing on the highway.

We pulled over at the next gas station to look at the damage.  It seemed like we, the truck, my father, and I, would survive.  A neighborly gas pumping friend commented on the truck “Yup, they don’t make ‘em like that anymore.”

So why this story?  For the past 7 months I’ve been told about the people that I’m going to meet in the Mississippi Delta.  I’ve been told what they’ll act like, what they think like, and yes, what they’ll drive (cars like the Ford F-250).  I don’t know how many of these generalizations are true, and honestly, I hurt at the thought of some of these generalizations to be true.  If I had muffler problems every day, I know I would be a little distracted in a Chemistry class.  Although I’m thankful for my family and friends’ insight to whom I’m about to meet,  I guess I’m just ready to actually meet people and to see what it’s really like to teach in the Mississippi Delta through Teach for America.  I look forward to sharing the stories ahead.

By the way, my dad and I made it to Cleveland two days after the muffler incident without any other extremely crazy problems.  Did I mention the car’s name is Lucky?