Differences that Make a Difference

Earlier this week I declared during a class with Human Systems Dynamics that I had figured out what I want to research. In an effort to narrow my focus for research I decided that investigating a teacher's generative learning process is important to the whole system of education. A teacher's growth in the profession will directly impact student achievement. I think growth goes deeper however. Growth, involves agency, identity and ownership in the process of teaching which is quite different from the act of teaching, or the mere execution of lesson plans or lesson delivery. Perhaps this inquiry stems from my personal frustration with planning meeting soundbites about doing, covering, and checking curriculum objectives off the list. Teaching is not simply an act of doing.  Rather, I believe it is a state of being. Teaching requires a vision, a belief and set of principles; ideals and a vision that establish a foundation for decision making. Moreover, teaching is about relationships, the rapport and interaction between student and teacher. Without these, teaching is merely mechanical monitoring and maintenance of minuscule, magnanimous, monumental or mundane mandates. Teaching is about the what?, so what? and now what? of each individual student; a cycle that I don't think becomes accessible for teachers until they discover this same generative learning cycle within themselves. I don't believe that teachers become self-actualized until teaching becomes a mission of discerning the essential patterns of the generative learning process: (adaptability, coherence in diversity and inquiry). So today, I decided that the difference that makes a difference in teaching involves the teacher's personal investment in being a teacher through contemplative agency over compliant activity.

So, feeling rather satisfied with my conclusion, I proceeded to Tarrant County College where I teach a Writing Techniques class for the Academic Foundations department. The students  I teach two nights a week are those for whom the education system has not worked. These students failed the Writing Accuplacer test; consequently they need remedial writing instruction, and have been assigned to me, a novice in this arena. Now in my fourth week of classes with these students, I observe compliant, complacent students. Yet, several appear to arrive each day eager to succeed. How did they fail? Who failed them? What failed them? How did they get through a system without being able to write a simple comrehensive essay?  I don't suppose it really matters. What does matter to me are the little moments, the little wins and the little questions that are beginning to spill from these students. Little by little they are beginning to reveal themselves, through their writing, through their posture, through their expressions and of course through their questions. Little by little, just maybe we are beginning to build rapport. I worry that I may not be offering them what they need. Is what I am doing offering them a difference that will make a difference?

That same day, Andrea came to see me before class, unannounced. She brought with her a rough draft of her writing, annotated for revisions along with the revised copy, all in red ink! She told me that she can't write; that her writing is terrible. Clearly I saw that she can write. I asked how what made her think she couldn't write. Had she been told that before? With affirmation, she nodded. Her face told me that she had learned early on about her impending failure as a writer. So, she asked me to read her piece. She didn't want to read it to me, rather she wanted me to read it aloud. She wanted to hear her words, she explained. Once I skipped a word. She corrected me. She knew her work. I could tell she owned this piece, and in fact she seemed proud of it. So, was I simply there to give her the affirmation she has never received? It was indeed a powerful piece, written from the heart, pulled from the memories I prompted students to write from. She explained to me, "I just followed you in class and so I just wrote". She told me it made her feel relieved. I understood why when I began reading. The first paragraph read, "I was a small child of eight years when I witnessed near murder.  My father came home high on methamphetamines that night. The vivid memory I have is as if it was last night. Scarred into my memories forever".  She admitted that she likes to write. I suppose that is half the battle. So, I praised her for her voice, her organization and flow. Her writing showed clear strengths. Yet, she was looking for the criticism, I could tell. But how could I tear down a writer who has been torn down all her life? So praise first. Then, I explained my thinking and methodology. Mechanics come later, once the ideas have been communicated. I asked her how she liked the sound of her piece. Did she say everything she had wanted to say? "Yes", she confirmed. So, using the rubric I planned to hand out in class we covered the elements: unit, support, coherence and sentence skills. She had it all. Even her sentence skills showed the effort she had put into revising word choice and sentence structure. There were just a few places involving mechanics, homonyms, and spelling needing repair. In my mind these are the easy fixes. Yet, in her mind she was a terrible writer. So, what was the difference that made a difference? I want to say that it was a two-way transaction. If I was able to affirm her interest and skill in writing, then I hope I gave her a sense of hope and confidence; a realization that success is possible. Yet, I feel that she already had this in her, that I hadn't really done much except to inspire something to write about. 

I can see that getting these students to dig deep inside of themselves to find something to say may be difficult for some of them. Mitch asked me today, but what happens when you don't connect with anything? True, this is a problem I've heard before. We chatted about it. The prompt on his Accuplacer test was to write about a practical skill. This apparently made no sense to him. I explained how connections come from within and that somehow we can find a way to connect with almost anything; that it is just a matter of finding a perspective that means something to us. The trick is in the planning, the brainstorming, the listing. I forgot to tell him it is in the free-writing, writing anything and everything that comes to mind until we reach a breakthrough; and that the breakthrough will come. I have explained the method to my madness throughout lessons devoted to identifying things to write about; things that come from our memories, our lives, the one thing that we are all experts in. So what was the difference that made a difference? We talked, he dared to ask and I pushed him to connect.

Ruby said as she was leaving, "You were brave to do what you did in class today, showing that music video. You captured everyone". After guiding students through a textbook explanation of thesis statement composing, I closed the lesson with writing. We watched a music video of Jason Michael Carroll's, "Alyssa Lies", about child abuse. More than one student asked me if I was going to collect this writing. No I replied. I just wanted them to internalize the process of identifying the main idea, the gist of the piece, write a thesis statement and know what details they might use to support it if they were to write a summary and conclude with a reflective response paragraph. Oh, yes. I also asked the class to sit in a circle. Yes, we all had to face each other. So maybe we are getting to know one another now. Are we a little more comfortable now, three weeks into the  semester? Yet every time we meet I spring something new on them that makes them feel a little uncomfortable. Was this the difference that made a difference? It was at least for one, I it seems.

  

I left my TCC classroom, last Thursday, feeling good about myself, confident as a teacher. We are both learning. I am only doing what I know to do as a writing teacher, and yet I am not sure if it is right. After class I chatted briefly with the adjunct instructor that follows me with the next class after mine in WFAB 2610.  She's a seasoned high school teacher. I teach 7th graders during the day. I sense our approach to teaching English may be different. Which one is right? I feel as though I am arming my students with a process I hope they will use as a resource to find their own strengths. Yes, the skills are coming, the mechanics are imbedded in pieces each week. But is that enough? After each class I leave pondering, and today I left wondering if the difference that made a difference was in my own learning, in my own realizations and then my own questioning of what I am doing and why I am doing it? Today I learned that I really enjoy working with these students. Indeed they are making me question myself as a teacher and as a researcher. Maybe they are the difference that is making a difference for me. 


*Please note that the names in the post are pseudonyms to protect the privacy of my students.