First Person

What this teacher learned when her discipline system went awry — for all the right reasons

PHOTO: Christina Veiga
Trilce Marquez recently shared her story at a Teachable Moments event in Harlem.

My first year teaching, at a school in the South Bronx, I taught across the hall from a woman who had been teaching for 25 years. The year that I started was the last year before she retired. Mrs. McCants kept me from quitting more than once, and was always checking in on me at the end of the day to see if I was OK.

I, in turn, was constantly in her classroom, watching her and her kids. I watched how quickly and quietly they would line up, or how when one kid tripped on the way to the rug, others crowded around him and asked if he was OK. During book club conversations, students would argue about parts of a book, but end with, “I hadn’t thought about it like that before.” I spent most of my time thinking, “How does she DO that?!”

That year, I tried so hard to emulate her. But I never figured out what she was doing that was so different from what I was trying. During closing circle, she’d ask her students about their favorite part of the day, and they’d begin a compliment chain. I asked my students and five yelled “recess,” two did cartwheels and one was sticking her finger in a socket. If we had a good day, it felt like an accident. I couldn’t tell you what I’d done to make it good.

I’m in my 10th year of teaching and I still think about Mrs. McCants all the time. I spent the last five years teaching in an ICT [integrated co-teaching] setting, which is where there are two teachers in the classroom. Most of that time was spent at a “no excuses” charter school, where every moment was regulated by a behavior system. The wiggle of a pinky could get you in trouble.

When I first got there, I thought, “So this is it! This is how Mrs. McCants did it — she watched their every move and gave consequences accordingly.” It took me a long time to realize that the joy in her room didn’t come from the consequences she gave. But at the time, I felt I’d found an answer.

This year feels a lot like my first year again because I’m on my own, no longer at the charter school. It’s just me and the kids.

I’m still struggling to figure out a behavior system that feels right. This year, my kids and I came up with one: Kids can earn stars or reminders. A reminder is if you’re interrupting learning so much so that you have a hard time getting back on track and so does everyone else.

At the end of the week, we have “choice time,” which is a period of free play, and you get to go to choice time if you have less than five reminders for the week.

Now, I try not to give reminders. I try to give conversations, notes, deathly teacher stares. But sometimes, you get a reminder.

The first week we tried this system, my student Joshua got 13 reminders. “Joshua, please don’t tape all of the pages of the book shut.” “Joshua, please stop singing ‘Let it Go.’ It’s silent, independent reading.” “Joshua, Post-Its are not confetti. Please stop throwing them in the air.” Joshua didn’t make it to choice time that week.

At the end of the next week, we’re getting ready for choice time, and I see that Joshua has way more than five reminders again. I’m thinking about what to do when Adam raises his hand.

“Can we change something?” he asks. “Can we give away our stars to other people, and the stars can erase their reminders?”

I’m thinking, “Sure, that sounds nice. You can give stars to other people.”

So Adam immediately says, “OK, I want to give a star to Joshua.”

And then another hand goes up and Valerie says, “I want to give a star to Joshua, too.”

I’m sitting there marking the stars on our behavior sheet, and when I look up, almost everyone else is waiting with their hands up.

“I want to give a star to Joshua.” “I want to give two stars to Joshua.” “A star for Joshua …”

And I look over at Joshua as students are giving their stars, and he’s sitting slouched down in his seat, pulling the top of his shirt over his face, crying.

When the kids are done, I’ve run out of room on the sheet — it’s covered with Joshua’s stars.

Joshua wipes his tears, and he goes to choice time with everyone else. Later I ask him, “Earlier, were you feeling really happy or really sad?”

He looks at me and says, “Really happy.”

I’m happy I didn’t quit that first year. Back then, I felt like everything good that happened was a lucky accident, but now I know there’s not much that happens by accident. Almost everything, like a group of kids coming together for a classmate, happens when you let go and give them room to love.

Trilce Marquez is a fourth-grade teacher at P.S. 11 in Chelsea. She shared this story as part of a recent Teachable Moments, a live storytelling event for New York City teachers. If you have a story you want to share at the next Teachable Moments, email [email protected].

First Person

To close out teacher appreciation week, meet the educators whose voices help shape the education conversation

From designing puzzles to get kids fired up about French to being christened “school mama” by students, teachers go above and beyond to make a difference. Chalkbeat is honored to celebrate Teacher Appreciation week with stories of the innovation, determination, and patience it takes to teach.  
Check out a few of the educator perspectives below and submit your own here.

  1. First Person: When talking about race in classrooms, disagreement is OK — hatred is not by David McGuire, principal at Tindley Accelerated Schools and previously a teacher in Pike Township. McGuire is also a co-founder of a group called Educate ME.  
  2. First Person: What my Bronx students think about passing through scanners at school by Christine Montera, a teacher at East Bronx Academy for the Future in the Bronx. She is also a member of Educators 4 Excellence-New York.  
  3. First Person: What 100 ninth graders told me about why they don’t read by Jarred Amato, High School English teacher and founder of ProjectLITCommunity.
  4. This fourth-grade teacher doesn’t take away recess or use points to manage the class. Instead she’s built a culture of respect by Liz Fitzgerald, a fourth-grade teacher at Sagebrush Elementary and Colorado Teaching Policy fellow.
  5. First Person: Why I decided to come out to my second-grade students by Michael Patrick a second grade teacher at AF North Brooklyn Prep Elementary.
  6. Meet the teacher who helped organize the Women’s March on Denver, a profile of Cheetah McClellan, Lead Math Fellow at Denver Public Schools.
  7. First Person: At my school, we let students group themselves by race to talk about race — and it works, by Dave Mortimer, and educator at Bank Street School for Children.
  8. What Trump’s inauguration means for one undocumented Nashville student-turned-teacher a profile of Carlos Ruiz, a Spanish teacher at STRIVE Prep Excel and Teach for America fellow.
  9. First Person: ‘I was the kid who didn’t speak English’ by Mariangely Solis Cervera, the founding Spanish teacher at Achievement First East Brooklyn High School.
  10. First Person: Why recruiting more men of color isn’t enough to solve our teacher diversity problem by Beau Lancaster, a student advocate at the Harlem Children’s Zone and  Global Kids trainer teaching, writing, and developing a civic engagement and emotional development curriculum.
  11. Sign of the times: Teacher whose classroom-door sign went viral explains his message a profile of Eric Eisenstad, physics and biology teacher at Manhattan Hunter Science High School.
  12. First Person: How teachers should navigate the classroom debate during a polarizing election year  by Kent Willmann, an instructor at the University of Colorado Boulder School of Education. He previously taught high school social studies in Longmont for 32 years.
  13. First Person: I teach students of color, and I see fear every day. Our job now is to model bravery by Rousseau Mieze, a history teacher at Achievement First Bushwick charter middle school.
  14. Pumpkin pie with a side of exhaustion: Why late fall is such a tough time to be a teacher by Amanda Gonzales, a high school special education teacher in Commerce City, Colorado.
  15. This teacher was a ‘class terrorist’ as a child. Now he uses that to understand his students by Andrew Pillow a technology and social issues teacher at KIPP Indy College Prep Middle.
  16. What this teacher learned when her discipline system went awry — for all the right reasons by Trilce Marquez, a fourth-grade teacher at P.S. 11 in Chelsea.
  17. Here’s what one Tennessee teacher will be listening for in Haslam’s State of the State address by Erin Glenn, a U.S. history teacher at East Lake Academy of Fine Arts and Tennessee Educator Fellow with the State Collaborative on Reforming Education.
  18. An earth science teacher talks about the lesson that’s a point of pride — and pain a profile of Cheryl Mosier, a science teacher at Columbine High School.
  19. A national teacher of the year on her most radical teaching practice: trusting kids to handle their bathroom business by Shanna Peeples, secondary English language arts curriculum specialist for Amarillo ISD.
  20. How this teacher went from so nervous her “voice was cracking” to a policy advocate by Jean Russell, a literacy coach at Haverhill Elementary School,  2016 Indiana Teacher of the Year and TeachPlus statewide policy fellow.

First Person

I’m a black man raised on the mistaken idea that education could keep me safe. Here’s what I teach my students in the age of Jordan Edwards

The author, Fredrick Scott Salyers.

This piece is presented in partnership with The Marshall Project

I worry a lot about the students in the high school where I teach. One, in particular, is bright but struggles in class. He rarely ever smiles and he acts out, going so far recently as to threaten another teacher. As a black, male teacher — one of too few in the profession — I feel especially compelled to help this young black man reach his potential. Part of that work is teaching him the dangers that might exist for him, including the police.

The killing of Texas teenager Jordan Edwards proves, though, that it’s not just black boys with behavior issues who are in danger. Jordan — a high school freshman, star athlete and honor student — was shot dead by a police officer last month while leaving a house party. As he rode away from the party in a car driven by his older brother, officers who’d been called to the scene fired multiple rifle rounds at the car. One bullet went through the passenger window, striking Jordan in the head. Murder charges have since been filed against the officer who fired the fatal shot.

It’s a near impossible task to educate black children in a society that constantly interrupts that work with such violence. Still, it’s incumbent on educators like me to guide our students through the moment we’re living in — even when we can’t answer all their questions, and even if we’re sometimes confused ourselves.

I began teaching in 2014, the year the police killings of Eric Garner, Michael Brown, and Tamir Rice dominated headlines. The tragedies have piled on, a new one seeming to occur every month since I first stepped into a classroom. I currently teach ninth-graders at a predominantly black charter school in Brooklyn, and I often find myself struggling to make sense of the events for my students.

I’ve shown them clips from popular films like “Selma” and “Fruitvale Station” and prepared lessons on the civil rights movement, and I’ve done my best to ground it all in the subjects I was hired to teach — American history, composition, and college readiness. My hope is that these films will encourage my students to connect today’s police violence to our nation’s history of racial injustice. And, because there are no easy answers, they’ll simply be encouraged by the perseverance of those who came before them.

I can’t help but worry I’m sending them mixed messages, however, teaching them lessons on resistance while also policing their conduct day to day. As an administrator and one of few black male teachers in my school, I’m often charged with disciplining students. I find myself having a familiar talk with many of them: “get good grades,” “respect authority,” “keep your nose clean.”

It’s instruction and advice that can feel pointless when a “good kid” like Jordan Edwards can have his life cut short by those sworn to serve and protect him. Still, I try in hopes that good grades and polite behavior will insulate my students from some of society’s dangers, if not all of them.

The Monday after police killed Edwards, I asked the students in my college readiness class to watch a news clip about the shooting and write out their feelings, or sit in silence and reflect. Many of them were already aware of what happened. I was proud that so many of them were abreast of the news but saddened by their reflections. At just 14 and 15 years old, many of them have already come to accept deaths like Jordan’s as the norm, and readily expect that any one of them could be next. “Will this police officer even be fired?” one asked. “Was the cop white?”

The young man I worry about the most was more talkative than usual that day. During the class discussion, he shared his guilt of being the only one of his friends who “made it” — making it meaning being alive, still, and free. The guilt sometimes cripples him, he said, and high-profile police killings like Jordan’s compound that guilt with a feeling of hopelessness. They make him think he will die in the streets one way or another.

I didn’t know what to say then, and I still don’t have a response for him. I’ve always taught students that earning an education might exempt them from the perils of being black in America, or at least give them a chance at something more. I was raised on that notion and believed it so much that I became an educator. But deaths like Jordan’s leave me choking on the reality that nothing I can teach will shield my students from becoming the next hashtag.

In lieu of protection, I offer what I can. I provide a space for my students to express their feelings. I offer love and consideration in our day-to-day interactions and do my best to make them feel seen and, hopefully, safe for a few hours each day.

Fredrick Scott Salyers teaches at a charter high school in Brooklyn. He began his career in education as a resident director at Morehouse College. Find more of his work here.