By Kristin

In an earlier post, I promised to write about how I transformed my classroom management so that it was student-centered. 

It all started with my third period – a reading intervention class where every child was behind in his or her skills because of one reason or another - often unscholarly behavior.  In my third period I had five boys who were all good friends, and they were in the habit of socializing instead of working.  I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't ever kick them out – an intervention class is the end of the line, and they were behind because of time spent in the office instead of class. National efforts to end discrimination in school discipline, something my district is under investigation for, echo what we already know - African American and Latino students get in trouble more often than their white and Asian peers.  I made a personal commitment to create a classroom that served the most challenging kids, but it wasn't easy.

There were days that when 3rd period began, the boys continued their conversation about Mohammad's shoes not matching his shirt, or what happened in last night's game. I would get Mohammad to sit down and Michael would pop up, arguing with Stephen.  I'd get Michael and Stephen to sit down and Trey and Mohammad and Donald would get going.  I'd get them to all sit down and work, I'd finally have some time to go work with the other students, then Donald would fart and it all fell apart again.  Luckily, there was Sensei.

Sensei is my daughter's Karate instructor.  He has about fifty students, a few of them teensy-tiny white belts, some of them foster children who deal with tremendous personal challenges, many of them children who like to play.  He does not have an easy group, but here's what he does: he ignores everything but what is essential, and when he speaks to the group he won't speak unless every single person is listening.  

When students are up practicing kicks and four kids are goofing around, he ignores it.  Instead, he works with one child at a time, like he does in the picture.  He doesn't allow himself to be distracted by misbehavior, because misbehavior is never as important as a child who is doing the work with intent.  The message is that learning Karate is important, because it is self defense and might save your life.  We respect the Dojo, because it is where we learn Karate.  We respect our own practice, because it matters.  These are things Sensei will reinforce during closure, when all the students sit around the mat and he can spend time on things like misbehavior.

Rafe Esquith, who pulls amazing work out of his students, articulates the same theory that I see Sensei implement.  He explains, "When I teach a lesson, I see dozens of little misdemeanors that might have received my immediate attention as a young teacher.  Over the years I have discovered that the energy I once spent correcting behavior is better spent perfecting the lesson.  In doing so, fewer have misbehaved, and more have learned."  Esquith teaches them to respect the Dojo by honoring the work.

My first step in reforming my classroom management was to ignore the "little misdemeanors."  That wasn't easy, because I am easily distracted by ambient noise and movement, but  I eventually discovered that while I'd been coaching one on-task child, my boys started doing their work.  I had taken my first step away from being a behavior-first teacher.

Student-centered management doesn't mean students run the show.  It means that management is about meeting student needs.  If I carve out space and time to teach Yolanda the difference between an antonym and a synonym by ignoring Stephen's off-task behavior, I'm meeting student needs, and ignoring mine.