Benjamin Karl

I realized that while I knew some of the students from my pre-student teaching experience, my relationship with every one of them was about to change. I was now their lead teacher and they were my students. The first day of the semester was going to be like the first day of school.

On day one, I began by greeting every student at the door and welcoming them with a broad smile to our classroom, further personalizing that welcome as I learned their names and interests. I took roll aloud every day for the first few weeks, being sure to establish eye contact with each student in turn.

To add some energy and excitement to the roll call—and so everyone could get to know everyone else—I asked each student to say their name back to me and answer the day’s question. Daily questions might be things like would you rather eat a cricket, a worm, or starve? or would you rather relax by a lake or go hiking in the mountains?

I always participated in the daily roll questions, using it as an opportunity to share controlled bits of personal information that would help me connect with each of the students. A couple of students, for instance, are actors like myself. Rather than hiking or relaxing lakeside, another student went outside the options and chose skydiving; I was then able to relay my own experiences with jumping out of a perfectly good airplane. When my 12th graders struggled with the language in Hamlet, I would offer dramatic readings based on my own performances in the play. They were especially excited to know that 400 years on, their own ideas and interpretations, and their struggles, were as valid as anyone else’s. These bits of crossover also helped me to better tailor analogies or examples when the students struggled with something.

I’m a proponent of Love and Logic. I told the students at the very beginning what my expectations were regarding respect, late work, and cell phone use. Most importantly, I told them that I was going to treat them with dignity and that I expected the same—that they didn’t have to take me at my word; instead, they could expect to see that respect demonstrated. I was very “real” with them, letting them know that I understood how difficult, sometimes dull, or even meaningless some things in school can seem but that I hoped we would find the connections and the relevance together. I was never draconian in my implementation of the rules, always taking time to talk with students following a transgression and give them an opportunity to describe their perspective. By and large, students who were especially disruptive the previous semester were respectful and less rambunctious with me. A few who’d once been the class disrupters even began to make it a point to say hello to me in the hallway on a regular basis as they were passing by my classroom.

At least initially, most of the communication I had with parents was regarding students who were falling behind. I did have some wonderful conversations with parents at Conferences where I had the opportunity to tell many of them about how engaged or insightful their successful child was. Some of my students are really caring and they look out for their peers who might be generally unwell or whom they notice hasn’t recently been heard in discussion—that’s one of my favorite types of stories to tell parents. Some of those earlier mentioned students who fell behind actually ended up becoming the most exciting turn-around success stories that I could share with parents.