How many of you have asked a kid why they did or did not do something? You can see the scenario in your mind clearly, can’t you? You are standing in front of a young person, maybe one hand is on your hip and they are staring at you with a mixture of defiance, guilt, and confusion on their face. Maybe the evidence of their “misdeed” is between you, broke pieces, a mess, a sibling with bangs they did not wake up with, or a faux-hawk generated by a rusty razor they found under the sink.

In a state of total mystification you ask “WHY did you DO that?” (“WHAT were you THINKING?” falls into the same category of interrogation.)

“i dunno.” (The lowercase eye is a purposeful choice, not a grammatical mistake.)

Is this young person being honest? Are they really wanting you to accept that they don’t know why they did what they did?

In an effort to find out the answer to those questions, I have started providing a list of “check all that apply” options for students who did not turn in or do their work. Options include “I forgot,” and “I left it at home/school,” and “I was missing tools I needed to complete it,” and “I chose not to do it,” and “Other (please explain).” The idea was to take a kid off the spot, so to speak, and give them an opportunity to actually think out their reasoning. I got this idea from another teacher and I thought it was brilliant.

Until this morning. See…I handed out a seven question pre-assessment on subject verb agreement. The purpose of it was to help determine if subject verb agreement was going to need a full-sized lesson, a mini-lesson, or just some small group work. One student, cleverly placed near my desk so that I can keep an eye on him/her – let’s call them “A” – sat slumped in their chair staring into space while the little exercise lay untouched in front of them. I asked if they needed a pencil. They declined. I asked if they were confused about what to do. They said no. Only now they had the nerve to look annoyed at me for interrupting their peace. The timer on the board was ticking away seconds. Finally, I got up and handed them the pink slip with the list of reasons why a student may not be doing the assignment. They looked at it curiously. THEN they asked me for a pencil so they could fill it out. And with great confidence “A” put a big check mark next to “I chose not to do it” and then wrote in very legible all-caps “BORING.”

So, someone finally said it.

Did I appreciate the honesty? No, I did not. See, a twelve year old gets to say stuff like that with limited repercussions. They can sit in smug self-satisfaction knowing that I am not allowed to say “YOU’RE BORING” back to to them. I can call their parents and tell them that their kid is disrespectful, but then what? In my experience, respect isn’t usually obtained that way. “A” doesn’t care if my feelings are hurt (they aren’t), or if I disagree (I do). Moreover, kids who take this kind of tack with teachers often have similarly contentious relationships with their parents, or any other authority figures in their lives.

Here’s the thing. In my imagination, the first step to true emotional intelligence is the ability to put words to thoughts, feelings, and actions. Saying “I made a choice,” is a necessary precursor to taking ownership of “I made a stupid choice.” And then…if we are lucky, being able to say “But I could make a different choice next time…” The tough part is remembering that when I am looking at “A” or any member of their cohort, I am looking at a product still in development. And so when I ask a question like “Why did you do/say/yell/write/draw that?” I need to remember that the young person in front of me might need some guidance in figuring that out too. When they shrug (which honest to goodness is one of the only things that kids do that sends me into fits of apoplexy), it is because they really may not know. So we will try to figure it out together, and then maybe reassess our options.

P.S. “A” did do the exercise when I explained that I collect the pink slips as a means of remaining in touch with guardians as to how their student is using the taxpayers’ money on a day-to-day basis. It turns out that I am not completely above the occasional power-play.

3 responses to “Ask a question…”

  1. ”A” is lucky to have a desk close to yours.

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  2. I look forward to hearing how you responded to the Boring defense. Already getting that from my 4 year old granddaughter.

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    1. I turned it on A. “I can see that you think this activity is boring. What do you propose we do so that the activity gets done, but is more enjoyable? If you can’t think of anything, would you be able to do it for 10 minutes and then do something else you like more?” Since my experience with A is that they weren’t going to struggle with the activity once they got started, we set a time and they had to do it until either a) the activity was complete; or b) the timer went off. To get ahead of the desire to just dawdle for ten minutes at a time, they only got 60 seconds to “do something more enjoyable” until the activity was complete.

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