I had just returned to school after two days away presenting, and had a lot of responsibilities that needed some attention. I'm a busy woman, after all, planning my presentations, technology coaching, teaching grad school, being process manager for our school and district improvement plans, planning science department meetings, and overseeing our department's Late Start time every other Wednesday morning. Busy little bee that I am, I forgot to put enough thought into my plans for my students. Well, my poor 4th hour Biology students bore the brunt of my thoughtlessness.
So there I was the day after my two-day hiatus, going over all of the activities they had done the day before. Doing all the work. Yippity-yapping for almost 40 minutes straight. Letting students watch me do my job instead of doing something where they were actively involved in the learning process. Allowing them to be passive recipients in the educational process. And boring them right out of their adolescent skulls and most likely halting any crucial frontal lobe development for 55 solid minutes.
The crazy thing is that I was aware of what was happening about 5 minutes into the lesson, but at times like that it's almost as if you're powerless to stop yourself. As I watched the students "settle in" for a period of "Watch the Teacher!" I knew I should stop, but I couldn't. And then, in a desperate effort to atone for my educational sin, I began to stupidly talk more and more (and sometimes, unfortunately, louder) in the hopes that the more I pelted them with words the more understanding would happen.
Well, it didn't work. And my students walked out of my room at the end of that period, with me unsure if they learned anything at all. Bad teacher.
Thankfully I had my 30-minute lunch after that period, right before my next two sections of Biology in the afternoon. As soon as the last student was out of my room, the first thought that entered my head was, "There is no way I can do this two more times to two more classes! Think of something--fast!"
So I did. While quickly devouring my lunch, I tried to think of a better way to review the activities they had worked on during my absence rather than me rambling on and on about them. I actually wanted to see what they had learned, but wanted them to do the showing rather than me doing the telling. As I pondered (quickly) how to do this, a sudden thought popped into my mind that was pretty much the polar opposite of what I had been doing-something that would require that every student participate and be actively involved for the entire period.
A game. Have them play a game that would show me what they had learned. And not just any game; a relay game where they are in teams of four, passing answers to questions down the line, with the last person evaluating answers, deciding which one was best (or writing their own), and running it up to me for a final check--after they ring the little service bell I had perched on a stool. (Whatever student rang the bell first got their answer reviewed first.) And, just for some variety, students would switch seats within their teams every few rounds so everyone got a turn at being that last person.
I quickly rearranged the desks, dealt with the students stopping cold at the door confused about where they would sit, and started playing for two periods.
Oh, the difference some good student-centered planning makes. Those two periods were wonderful. I got to see exactly what they had learned, we got to stop and fix anything that they did not understand, and all students were actively engaged (even my students who do very little talking were fighting fiercely to be first to ring the bell and arguing with me about their answers after I declared them "almost there but not a level 4"). I knew exactly what my students understood and did not understand when those two groups of students left my room at the end of their respective hours. And we had 55 minutes of fun together, my students and I.
The next day I apologized to my 4th period. I told them how sorry I was for that mind-numbingly boring lesson (that got me some strange looks), and I wanted to right the wrong that I had done to them--by playing the game I had created the day before with them. I can honestly say I have never enjoyed a class so much as that one, watching them get rowdy and involved and disturbing the 3 other quiet classrooms around us with their loudness and, most importantly, be actively engaged.
I learned a lot from that one interminably boring lesson. I guess you have to subject yourself to your own boring lessons once in a while in order to snap your teaching back into focus. I screwed up, and it opened my eyes to the fact that I have to remain focused on my students. I can't let all of the other stuff that I do besides teaching get in the way of providing them with quality conditions for learning. Lately, my job has felt like it's a series of meetings interrupted by teaching, and that's the exact opposite of how it should be. But I'm not going to let that be an excuse for any poorly designed and executed lessons to which I subject my students.
My students have to always come first.