Effective teachers have a strong core of beliefs—principles that guide their decisions, touchstones that help them distinguish right from wrong, goals that define their vision for the school year. I would like to share the core beliefs I followed in my years as a teacher and a principal. I realize that these are personal. Each of you must create your own core beliefs. I outline my beliefs here for three reasons. One is to acquaint you with their simplicity. Second, I want to help readers understand that the clearer our beliefs are, the more we can keep working toward them. Finally, I want to illustrate how these core beliefs frame the way we work in classrooms and schools.
My central goal was incredibly simple and incredibly complex. I wanted it to be “cool to care” in my room and in my school. I wanted everyone—every student, every teacher, each staff member, all the parents—to think it was cool to care. Ironically, I don’t think I ever shared this goal with anyone—maybe because it sounded so simple, maybe because people might have scoffed at it, and maybe to improve its chance of becoming reality. Chanting, “Be drug free, you and me,” during Red Ribbon Week may or may not make a difference, but I am pretty sure that when kids reach a certain age, its value diminishes. I felt the same about advertising my goal.
In this book, we have occasionally referred to trends in education. Some have had positive and lasting effects; others seem silly in hindsight. I regularly receive calls from schools and districts asking me to help them implement a program or reach a goal. Often, this undertaking relates to the latest trend or mandate. Whether I agree or not, I want the educators to understand that getting a faculty to go along with a particular undertaking has limited value. Rather, the key is to develop and establish a school-wide environment that supports everyone’s effort to do what is right. If we create an environment where each person does what is best for the students and for the school, we will seldom make a wrong decision. Getting people to follow the current educational trends is fine. Getting people to do the right thing is essential.
The best teachers are able to achieve this in their classrooms. The students care, and they care deeply. They care about learning, they care about the teacher, and they care about each other. Once it is cool to care, anything becomes possible. All the behaviors we have described in this book lead to this: treating everyone with respect and dignity; always taking a positive approach; always modeling how to treat others; understanding that what matters is people, not programs; making every decision based on the best people. Each of these behaviors helps create an environment where it is cool to care. If two people both make every decision on what is best for students, even if they don’t agree, they will both be right.
Once we create an environment where it is cool to care, there are no wrong decisions.
Once we create an environment where it is cool to care, there are no wrong decisions. People who make the extra effort are valued. Whining is worthless, caring is keen. Think about the very best teachers in your school. If they want to, they can make any new program work. No matter what the new standards are, they can help all their students meet them. The real challenge, and the real accomplishment, is to get all the students to care about what happens in the classroom. Once we achieve that, anything is possible. Until we achieve that, any obstacle can seem insurmountable.
In Chapter 1, I described my interest in understanding what great teachers do differently. The first time this struck me was during an informal visit in the classroom of my best teacher, Mrs. Heart. I watched as Darin approached her desk—Darin, a rough, tough, tattooed discipline problem who easily intimidated the other students (and many of the teachers, and maybe the principal!). Making no effort to keep the other students from hearing him, Darin said, “Mrs. Heart, I was working on my poetry last night and I had a hard time with some of the words in the third verse. I was wondering if I could get your help on...” My jaw must have hit the floor.
Believe me, Darin was not a fan of poetry. Darin was a fan of Mrs. Heart. She had made it cool to care about whatever was happening in class. No matter what the focus, the students shared that focus. When the state set new standards, I never worried about Mrs. Heart. She could get the students interested in whatever the state issue was, but she never lost sight of the big picture. Mrs. Heart wasn’t preparing her students for the state test. She was preparing her students for life, and this is what teaching is all about. Getting along with others, treating everyone with respect, doing your best: Mrs. Heart emphasized all of these traits. She made it cool to care.
If we can raise every teacher to Mrs. Heart’s level, or even close to that, we have something special. Even if teachers are just trying to get there, that is wonderful. You see, if you want to be like Mrs. Heart, then you think it is cool to care.
One year the junior high school where I was principal decided to adopt a partner school, a preschool whose students had multiple handicaps, including severe disabilities. I was very proud of our students. They were pen pals to the youngsters, sent them cards on their birthdays, and hosted monthly theme parties.
As the holiday season approached, our students decided to do something special for their adoptees. They decided to raise money to buy each one a hat, mittens, and a sweatshirt with our school logo emblazoned across the front. The students came up with the idea of holding a half-hour carnival during our advisory time each morning for one week. Each day, one fifth of the homerooms would host the carnival and the other students would attend. Each group thought of different booths—ring toss games, root beer floats for a quarter, jars of candy to guess the number of pieces, even raffles to throw pies at the assistant principal (not me).
All the booths were inexpensive; our goal was to have each homeroom raise just $10. Well, the carnival was an unqualified success. Even the homerooms headed by resistant teachers who took on minimal roles reached the $10 goal. We then pooled the money and bought the mittens, hats, and school sweatshirts.
Students in art classes made holiday cards for the preschoolers, home economics classes baked cookies, and all of the advisory teachers wrapped presents. Then came the day of the big party at the preschool. I had each homeroom teacher “randomly” select one student to help. (The faculty knew that in such situations, “random” meant the student who would benefit most.) The band played, the choir sang, the orchestra performed, and the drama students did holiday skits. I even chose a student to wear my personal Santa Claus suit and play St. Nick at the festivities. We caught the entire party on video: the severely handicapped students sitting on Santa’s lap (or as close as they could); everyone enjoying the music; our students comfortably and fearlessly holding and entertaining the preschoolers; excited children opening their presents. It was something special.
Two days later, as part of our traditional all-school holiday assembly, we wheeled out several large-screen televisions and played the tape of the party. Everyone got to see the love and joy that we brought into these youngsters’ lives. They got to see the special children they had “adopted” look with amazement into Santa’s eyes. Tears came easily when our students saw the video of these very challenged children hugging their classmates. By the time the tape ended, there were few dry eyes in the auditorium. And this was a group of junior high students!
Then, after the tape was over, the curtains opened on stage. There were all our very special preschool friends, in their matching sweatshirts with our school name and mascot, singing carols to us. No one in that room will ever forget it. Special moments like these are an important part of what education really is.
We didn’t have any fights in school the rest of the week. No one was even referred to the office. Moreover, we never had a problem with students teasing any of their own handicapped peers who attended our junior high. The impact on the students was dramatic, but even more significant was the effect on our least positive staff members. After that, whenever we did something as a school, all the advisory teachers willingly rolled up their sleeves and joined in. Once it becomes cool to care, there are no limits to what can be accomplished.
In great schools, the teachers tell stories about what other teachers have accomplished with students. The heroes are not the contract-negotiating team, but those who have the greatest impact on the students. In one school I visited, the legendary figures were those who took a caring interest in students’ personal and family needs. These teachers arrived at school early and/or stayed late to provide individual assistance when needed.
Some folks keep alive the legend of teachers who knock a student down with a single sarcastic comment while others revere those who pick the students up. Every educator needs to know which teachers are the legends. Effective leaders work to make sure the ones on the pedestal are the best ones. Cultivating this environment is essential to developing a great school.
I recently worked with a school where unprofessional attitudes and behaviors were common. Faculty members put students down and thought that failing a student showed how good the teacher was. In trying to change this culture, I met with eight of the top teachers in the school and shared my concerns about the underlying attitude and tone. They nodded in agreement but were not sure what to do about it.
Eventually, one teacher asked if they should stand up to their negative peers. In response, I told them what one outstanding teacher did in a similar situation. At a dysfunctional school where I was the new principal, many on the staff habitually made sarcastic and derogatory remarks—not gentle teasing, but much more negative and usually hurtful. When this happened, one particular teacher’s response stood out in my eyes. When her colleagues used inappropriate and hurtful humor, she didn’t confront them—she simply didn’t laugh.
“And that is what I need you to do too,” I told the group of concerned teachers. “Just do what is right, no matter what others do around you.” That is what the great teachers do. They do what is right no matter what else is going on.
Touch the Heart, Then Teach the Child
We are often tempted to use logic as a motivator. “This quiz is worth ten points.” “If everyone talks at once, nobody can hear.” “Sign up for the honors section. It will look good on your transcript.” There is nothing wrong with that at times. But we must realize that emotions play a part too. Year after year, we ask students to venture into the strange territory of new information, new skills. We try to link the new material to familiar ground: “Fractions are like dividing a pizza into equal pieces—the remainder is like the cookies left on the plate when each child at the party gets two.” But the wobbly bridge between the familiar and the new can be scary. Many students and adults do not try because they are afraid—maybe of failure, maybe of humiliation. Who knows? Maybe they do not even know. To overcome this obstacle, we have to rely on emotion ourselves.
When a teacher’s sensitivity to students increases, so does the opportunity to reach them.
Think about adults who are afraid of flying. We can present all sorts of facts about how flying is safer than driving, and it probably won’t make any difference. They may even agree with us about the facts. They don’t have a logical reason for staying on the ground; they are simply afraid. However, if an emergency arises and they need to be with a faraway family member quickly, they might readily decide to fly anyway. Their emotions overcome their irrational fear.
We can use the same approach when we are hoping to reach our students. When a teacher’s sensitivity to students increases, so does the opportunity to reach them. We can present logical reasons why each student should give a teacher attention and respect, but that alone will not work with many students. It is easy to convince ourselves that we can work with one student, or several. But until we connect with them emotionally, we may never be able to connect with their minds. Great educators understand that behaviors and beliefs are tied to emotion, and they understand the power of emotion to jump-start change.
I’ll give you an example. When I became principal of an eighth-grade center (adolescence at its finest!), the tone in the school was less than positive. Several teachers did not hold students in the regard that I feel is essential. This attitude carried over to their classrooms and the way they treated and interacted with students, especially students who were less than teacher-pleasers in appearance or attitude.
The only thing I could think of was to attempt to reach the emotional side of the faculty. With the help of an outstanding high school counselor, we put together a panel of students who attended our school the previous year but who had not succeeded here. They did not have any major disciplinary or attendance problems, they were just pretty nice kids, the kind who easily fall through the cracks. They don’t draw attention to themselves, but they are not interested in school, not involved, and not connected.
Six students agreed to be panelists at a faculty meeting. The only prepping they received was to be honest. What happened over the next hour was unbelievably emotional. The students shared that they thought none of their teachers liked them. They thought no one cared. They were not even sure some of their teachers knew their names. It was quite sad. But, then, one of my coldest staff members blurted out, “Well, maybe if you had just done your homework you would have done better. Maybe if you had tried more you would have been more successful. Maybe if you had studied more you wouldn’t have flunked my class!”
What happened next was powerful. Nothing happened. No one agreed. No one chimed in. I could almost sense the other teachers moving their chairs away from him. This teacher had moved from being a negative leader on the staff to total isolation. Maybe none of my other teachers stood up to him, but one thing they did sure made me proud. None of them laughed.
Great teachers impact others in more ways than they can ever know. The legacies we build last far beyond our years. Students care about great teachers because they know great teachers care about them.
Great teachers care about their students. They understand that behaviors and beliefs are tied to emotion, and they understand the power of emotion to jump-start change.