The power of a question
Nov. 12, 2019
We had conferences a couple weeks ago. A set of (acting) parents sat at my table. They are new to this - the person they are parenting hasn't been with them all that long. (I'm going to refer to the person I teach as a her because I don't want to keep typing his/her, and I'm old enough I still struggle with using a plural pronoun for a singular person - that habit's an ingrained one.)
I promised these parents I would work to make a connection with their student even more than I already had. It's important to me, and it's important to them. What I didn't know was if it was important to the student. My plan: simply tell the student I don't know her well, and I want to know her better (I'd given a quarter for acclimation); I thought we'd get to know each other better through questions - student ask one day, and I ask the next. The student rolled her eyes - loudly. But that wasn't going to stop me. Cause me concern - well, yes.
So the next day, I asked what her question for me was. She stood at the door, apparently thinking. The bell rang. She looked at me like, "Aren't we going in?" I waited quietly. She stood quietly, but then finally asked me a question. I wish I remembered what had been her first one. I answered, and before I could ask it to her, she scurried off. Class went on.
This continued a few days, back and forth. One day, I didn't get to her in the hall, and she had to ask in the classroom. I hoped for the best, but I didn't know whether she would. She hates to speak in front of the class. But as I waited patiently, she laughed - laughed!!! - and asked me a question.
Laughed! This student I'd had very little expression from in weeks past actually laughed. This became the new norm. People around the student also started asking me questions or commenting on the answer the student or I gave. The first five minutes of class has become a conversation time, with some students volunteering to ask me a question (I always take one if the student has already asked me one OR I have asked one). Some students want me to ask them a question.
This simple intent, this simple action, has turned this class into a closer group of people. It has changed directions of lessons; it has given me insight into what they think. I still don't know this student as well as I want, but the student isn't the enigma she once was before.
One change that cost me nothing and has given me more than I anticipated. Today, during our class novel time, this student smiled, laughed, and joined the conversation. I'm not sure she even realized she was doing something she hadn't done before because now talking in our class is normal for her.
Wins all around. I have to reach them before I can teach them.
We had conferences a couple weeks ago. A set of (acting) parents sat at my table. They are new to this - the person they are parenting hasn't been with them all that long. (I'm going to refer to the person I teach as a her because I don't want to keep typing his/her, and I'm old enough I still struggle with using a plural pronoun for a singular person - that habit's an ingrained one.)
I promised these parents I would work to make a connection with their student even more than I already had. It's important to me, and it's important to them. What I didn't know was if it was important to the student. My plan: simply tell the student I don't know her well, and I want to know her better (I'd given a quarter for acclimation); I thought we'd get to know each other better through questions - student ask one day, and I ask the next. The student rolled her eyes - loudly. But that wasn't going to stop me. Cause me concern - well, yes.
So the next day, I asked what her question for me was. She stood at the door, apparently thinking. The bell rang. She looked at me like, "Aren't we going in?" I waited quietly. She stood quietly, but then finally asked me a question. I wish I remembered what had been her first one. I answered, and before I could ask it to her, she scurried off. Class went on.
This continued a few days, back and forth. One day, I didn't get to her in the hall, and she had to ask in the classroom. I hoped for the best, but I didn't know whether she would. She hates to speak in front of the class. But as I waited patiently, she laughed - laughed!!! - and asked me a question.
Laughed! This student I'd had very little expression from in weeks past actually laughed. This became the new norm. People around the student also started asking me questions or commenting on the answer the student or I gave. The first five minutes of class has become a conversation time, with some students volunteering to ask me a question (I always take one if the student has already asked me one OR I have asked one). Some students want me to ask them a question.
This simple intent, this simple action, has turned this class into a closer group of people. It has changed directions of lessons; it has given me insight into what they think. I still don't know this student as well as I want, but the student isn't the enigma she once was before.
One change that cost me nothing and has given me more than I anticipated. Today, during our class novel time, this student smiled, laughed, and joined the conversation. I'm not sure she even realized she was doing something she hadn't done before because now talking in our class is normal for her.
Wins all around. I have to reach them before I can teach them.
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