I loathe teaching grammar.
Every year, it seems that I try a new approach, and seldom does it accomplish what I want it to (improvement in student writing). I'm no expert, and a cursory read of my posts will probably produce scores of errors which would infuriate devout grammarians, but I do believe that by high school, there is merit in helping students see the "interior structure" of the language they use. Knowing that structure, hopefully, helps the strong writers refine and the weak writers give name and therefore understanding to their weaknesses.
This year, my rocky relationship with grammar led me to make a dangerous decision. Last semester, I did not teach it. At all. I responded to student writing and offered revision advice, but I didn't instruct about anything grammar-related. Instead, we focused on higher order rhetorical arrangement (argument, essay, paragraph). Over the course of the semester, I proved to my students through lessons, assessments, and feedback that I knew what I was talking about and knew how to help them. They started intentionally responding to my feedback and advice, and in reflections on their writing processes, I repeatedly saw references to "I never knew this before" or "now I understand." A strange thing happened, then, a few weeks ago when I finally, grudgingly and anticipating epic futility, settled into my hardcore grammar lessons and curriculum.
I pitched my grammar unit with this opening salvo, ready for resistance: "I am not even going to pretend like this will be fun. I want you to trust me and just try to do what I'm asking you to do." But when I asked them to trust me, they did.
I think if I had made the same request at the beginning of the year, my results would not be as good as they have been so far this spring.
When I consider what this says about my teaching, it reveals one of those unmeasurable factors–one of those invisible qualities–which make teachers effective. (I realize this may sound arrogant, but hey, I do consider myself an effective educator.)
There are some teachers who can seem to spin straw into gold thread when others can barely muster a haystack. This isn't a matter of training, curriculum, or degree of caring about kids. The fact that I had proven myself as credible factored in to my students' willingness to buy into these tough grammar lessons. I worked to build that credibility by responding to students individually and uniquely so that they could see how my lessons connected personally to them. All year, the trust I fostered that what I asked them to do and learn would not waste their time, and my follow-through on that commitment, set them up to trust that, like all the other things I'd asked them to do, studying grammar must also have some value even if they were not able to see it yet. The way I taught, my manner of approach, and the connections I forged are what have fostered success–and none of those were skills I learned in teacherschool or at an inservice training.
Are they all acing the tests? Nope, not yet. But they are buying in and working hard. That is what I want.
When we consider ways to judge teacher "merit," there are so many unteachable, immeasurable factors which contribute to effective teaching–one of these is a teacher's ability to lead his or her own classroom with a disposition and manner that makes students want to follow. Had I started with grammar in September, it could have irreparably damaged our teacher-student relationship. Grammar can do that. Starting grammar in March, though, seems to be making us stronger: together we fight the beast to unravel the complexities of subjective nominal phrases, transitive verbs, and subordinating conjunctions.
And of course, this makes me think of Bill Gates… who is the subject of the forthcoming "Part II."
This is such an inspiring story of you knowing your students, and why that is so important. It also got me thinking of the way that teachers are treated and respected. Just like you had to build a relationship with your students in order to get them to trust and believe in you, so should administrators/government officials build those relationships with teachers in order to get them to trust and believe in their ideas. I just finished reading the open letter to teachers from Arne Duncan (in honor of teacher appreciation week “http://www.ed.gov/blog/”) and had the distinct sense that I was being talked down to. I have a hard time trusting his intentions or ideas and I know that he does not trust me or value my ideas. If he would spend time with teachers, getting to know them, and seeing what it is like day to day in the classroom we would be more inclined to trust him and he would be better equipped to help with education’s problems.
Nice post, Mark. I think you’ve touched on something important: teachers have a lot of credibility with students and most of their parents. I can get my students to do just about anything just by telling them that they should do it.
Ironically, I sometimes feel that teachers have almost no credibility with the media and lawmakers when it comes to school reform and related issues. It’s like we don’t know what we’re talking about even though we’re usually the only ones who do.