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

I covered Tennessee’s ed beat for Chalkbeat. Here’s what I learned.

PHOTO: Marta W. Aldrich
Grace Tatter covers a press conference at the Tennessee State Capitol in 2015.

For three years, I covered the Statehouse for Chalkbeat Tennessee, reporting on how policies from Nashville trickled down into more than 1,800 public schools across the state.

Now I’m starting back to school myself, pursuing graduate studies aimed at helping me to become a better education journalist. I’m taking with me six things I learned on the job about public education in Tennessee.

1. Apathy is often cited as a major problem facing education. That’s not the case in Tennessee.

I heard from hundreds of parents, educators, and students who were passionate about what’s happening — good and bad — inside of schools. I covered crowded school board meetings and regularly scrambled for an open seat at legislative hearings where parents had filled the room after driving since dawn to beat the opening gavel. Not incidentally, those parents usually came from communities with the “worst” schools and the lowest test scores. While many disagreements exist about the best way to run schools, there is no shortage of people, particularly parents and educators, who care.

2. Tennessee has one of the most fascinating education stories in America.

I’ve had a front-row seat to massive changes in K-12 education under reforms ushered in by Race to the Top — an overhaul being tracked closely well beyond the state’s borders. But the national interest and import doesn’t end with changes stemming from the $500 million federal award. Tennessee is home to some of the nation’s premier education researchers, making its classrooms laboratories for new ideas about pre-K, school turnaround, and literacy instruction, just to name a few. And at the legislature, more lobbyists are devoted to education than to most any other cause. A lot of eyes are on Tennessee schools.

3. The education community is not as divided as it looks.

During the course of just a few years, I watched state lawmakers change their positions on accountability and school vouchers. I witnessed “anti-charter” activists praise charter leaders for their work. I chronicled task force meetings where state leaders who were committed to standardized testing found middle ground with classroom educators concerned that it’s gone too far. In short, a lot of people listened to each other and changed their minds. Watching such consensus-building reminded me that, while there are no simple debates about education, there is a widespread commitment to making it better.

4. Money matters.

Even when stories don’t seem to be about money, they usually are. How much money is being spent on testing, teacher salaries, school discipline reform? How much should be available for wraparound services? Why do some schools have more money than others? Is there enough to go around? Tennessee leaders have steadily upped public education spending, but the state still invests less than most other states, and the disparities among districts are gaping. That’s why more than a handful of school districts are battling with the state in court. Conversations about money are inextricable from conversations about improving schools.

5. Race is a significant education issue, but few leaders are willing to have that conversation.

More than 60 years after Brown v. Board of Education, Tennessee’s schools are largely racially segregated. Yet most policymakers tread lightly, if ever, into conversations about achieving real racial integration. And in many cases — such as a 2011 law enabling mostly white suburban Shelby County towns to secede from the mostly black Memphis district — they’ve actually gone backwards. Then there’s the achievement data. The annual release of test scores unleashes a flurry of conversation around the racial achievement gap. But the other 11 months of the year, I heard little about whether state and local policies are closing those gaps — or contributing to them — or the historical reasons why the gaps exist in the first place. To be sure, state leadership is trying to address some of Tennessee’s shortcomings. For example, the State Department of Education has launched modestly funded initiatives to recruit more teachers of color. But often, race and racism are the elephants in the room.

6. Still, there’s lots to celebrate.

If there were unlimited hours in the day, I could have written thousands of stories about what’s going right in public education. Every day, I received story ideas about collaborations with NASA in Oak Ridge, high school trips to Europe from Memphis, gourmet school lunches in Tullahoma, and learning partnerships with the Nashville Zoo. Even in schools with the steepest challenges, they were stories that inspire happiness and hope. They certainly inspired me.

Grace Tatter graduated from public schools in Winston-Salem, N.C., and received her bachelor’s degree in history from the University of North Carolina. She’s now pursuing a master’s degree in specialized studies at the Harvard Graduate School of Education.

First Person

I’m a Houston geography teacher. This is my plan for our first day back — as soon as it arrives

PHOTO: Creative Commons / Texas Military Department
Texas National Guard soldiers arrive in Houston, Texas to aid citizens in heavily flooded areas from the storms of Hurricane Harvey.

Hurricane Harvey has upended so many things here in Houston, where I am starting my third year as a teacher. One of them is the lesson I am planning for the first day of school — as soon as it arrives.

This upheaval is nothing compared to what people across the city have faced, including my students, who have been sending me photos of evacuation boats going past their houses.

But it is fundamental to the task of being a teacher at a time of crisis. As an A.P. Human Geography teacher, my job is to help students make connections between the geography concepts we are learning in class and their real lives: Does Houston look like the models of urban development we study? Does their family history include a migration?

Before the storm, my thinking went like this: I am white and was born in England and most of my students are Hispanic, many with parents who were born in other countries. I was excited for us to share and compare our different stories. My students last year were shocked and fascinated when they discovered that my white, middle-aged father who is a university professor was applying for a green card, just as many of their family members were.

Now, Hurricane Harvey has underlined for me the importance of those real-world connections. As I looked at the photos from my students, I was struck by how geography concepts can affect us in very real — even life-threatening — ways.

I had planned to teach a lesson at the end of the year about how urbanization affects the environment. The lesson looks at how urbanization can exacerbate flooding: for example, how paving over grassy areas can increase the speed with which rain reaches the bayous, causing the water levels to rise faster. I would then have students evaluate different policies cities can adopt to mitigate that risk, such as encouraging the building on brownfield rather than greenfield sites and passing laws to protect farmland — options that have significant benefits but also significant costs.

I have decided to move this lesson up in the curriculum and teach it when we have school again. School is scheduled to start again on Tuesday, though at this stage everything is provisional, as each hour we find out about more families that have had their homes destroyed by the rising waters. It is still unclear how all our staff, let alone students, will get to school.

I am worried that the lesson could re-traumatize students who have experienced so much trauma in the past few days. I know I will need to make an active effort to make students feel comfortable stepping into the hall if they are feeling overwhelmed. However, my experiences with the recent presidential election make me think that this lesson is exactly what some students might need.

After the election, many students were genuinely confused about what had happened. One question in particular was on their minds: How you can you win the popular vote but not the election? We talked through the Electoral College together, and having clarity about what had happened and why it happened seemed to give them a firmer foundation to build on as they processed their emotions. I am hopeful that teaching about flooding will help ground them in a similar way.

This lesson about flooding was once simply another lesson in the curriculum, but now it has taken on a new urgency. In moments of disaster, it is easy to feel powerless; I certainly could not help the people I saw posting on Facebook that they were been on hold with 911 for hours while standing on their roofs.

Yet teachers have a unique power — the power to shape the minds of future generations to solve the problems that we face. Houston’s location means that it will always be susceptible to flooding. But by teaching about the flood I hope I can play a small role in helping our city avoid repeating some of the tragic scenes I witnessed this week.

Alex McNaughton teaches history and geography at YES Prep Southeast in Houston.

Looking to help? YES Prep is collecting donations to support its students and their families. Houston ISD and KIPP Houston are also soliciting donations for their students.