Friday, September 25, 2009

Compliments Can Go A Long Way

We had an assembly today for 4th and 5th graders. A speaker from one of the local community colleges came and spoke to the kids about the importance of college and about the many opportunities college provided.

I make it a point, before any assembly, to have a "class discussion" over etiquette and expectations. We talk about how to act when someone is speaking. We talk about "wiggling" in the seat. We talk about "active" listening. We talk about asking "relevant" questions. And, of course, we talk about going to the bathroom before we go to the assembly (not during). Actually, I don't really give them an option there... I make them go to the bathroom.

Anyway, we arrived and shortly thereafter, the speaker began speaking. My kids were attentive (or at least...they were trying to be). The information could've been going in one ear and out the other. But, at least they were "trying" to listen. As the speaking dragged on, the auditorium started becoming noticeably louder with the sounds of "fidgetiness" (if that's a word). The speaker then passed out a flyer with bullet points on it (oh no). She intended to read from it and have the 175 or so students follow along. Not more than 5 minutes later, several students throughout the auditorium were showing "Pirate" career aspirations because the flyers were now rolled-up spyglasses.

A few of my students started this up as well (a few). I would've loved to see the point-of-view from my students' perspective as they panned the spyglass slowly across the auditorium only to pan right into my disapproving face. They immediately stopped, but throughout the auditorium, the fidgeting and "telescoping" continued. The speaker courageously tried to continue on. Every time she was ready to wrap up, the counselor (who organized this) would walk up to her and say something to her (during which, whispers and talking from the audience started to grow). The speaker would nod to the counselor and then say, "Your counselor has also asked me to speak about...." Then, she would continue on speaking.

As she continued to speak, the fidgeting grew worse. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the school principal slowly make her way up to the front of the auditorium. She got to the front and stood and watched over the whole auditorium with a very disapproving face. She finally had to interrupt the speaker. She told her, "Excuse me, but I need to interrupt for a second...." Then, in a very stern, not-loud-but-definitely-audible-voice, she said, "Will everybody STOP... wiggling around?"

Everybody stopped instantaneously.

Then she said, "Will everybody STOP....playing with those papers?"

Then, 99.8% of the paper rustling noises stopped.

Then, she chided them for their inattentiveness, called out a few of the .2% who were still playing with the flyers, pointed at others, reminded them of "proper" behaviors in the auditorium, apologized to the speaker, then let her continue with her speaking (during which the principal continued to stand in front of the auditorium looking over the congregation like a hawk).

The assembly eventually ended, and dismissal procedures began. My class was close to the front, and the auditorium was dismissing from the rear. So, we were waiting.

As we were waiting, the presenter came up to me and started talking. She told me that she usually spoke to high school students about college. She had come with the intent of speaking for about ten minutes because she figured the attention span of elementary kids would be very short. But, when she got to the school, the counselor had asked her to go for 30 minutes. Then, of course, the counselor had started interjecting to her in the middle of the assembly to "speak about this" or "speak about that."

Then, she thanked me for having a "well-behaved" and attentive class. She said that she had really noticed them while she was speaking. And, I thanked her for the compliment. I was really pretty proud. I honestly, rarely get compliments. The ones that I do get, usually come from biased-well-intentioned friends (which I appreciate, but take with a grain of salt, because I know I can't be that good). But, a compliment from a total stranger? That really made me feel...well...competent.

It was a good day. My students, who are some of the most fidgety and talkative that I've ever had, did me proud (and did themselves proud). I let them know it too. When we returned to the classroom, I gave the students my compliments, and awarded each of them with one... single... succulent.... fruity... Jolly Rancher, and the permission to eat them in class. Gold.

My classroom smelled like a giant strawberry for the remainder of the day, and nothing came close to dampening it.