49/365 We Must Stop Confusing ‘Authoritarian’ and ‘Authority’

Sit and watch any group of novice teachers – those in their first few years, those student teaching, those teaching a new grade level for the first time – and you’re likely to here some variation of the following, “Yeah, most days, it’s all I can do just to get control of the class.” It’s a frequent question asked of mentor teachers, “How do you get control of the kids?”

Lest you think such speech is solely the domain of novice teachers, try speaking at a conference sesssion or staff development meeting and advocating a shift in practice that would mean giving students more choice in the classroom. Within seconds, a few hands will be raised, one will be called on, and a veteran teacher will say, “Yeah, that sounds great and all, but if we did what you’re suggesting our classrooms would be madhouses. It’d be too difficult to keep control.”

Good.

There is a difference between being an authority and being authoritarian (and we should shoot for the former).

If the bulk of teacher’s practices are geared around maintaining control of the classroom or control of the students, then they’ve lost sight of what’s possible in schools. Scott Paris and Julienne Turner give four key components of this in their piece “Situated Motivation.

Sometimes, we say motivation as a white washed way of thinking about control, “That student is really motivated,” or “That teacher is very motivational.” Replace “motivation” with “control” in those two students and you get to the meat of the meaning.

Paris and Turner found out motivation, like control, is not inherent in the individual. Anyone who has planned an amazingly successful lesson one day and then felt like a ringmaster the next knows this to be true. Instead, Paris and Turner found that motivation is situated in the context of an activity. Activities, it turns out, are motivational.

Well, they can be if they include four key components – choice, challenge, collaboration, and control. The more of these components a teacher builds in to a learning experience, the more likely they are to find a class that might be construed as being in their control. Structuring lessons to include choice, challenge, collaboration, and control will move the teacher to a different role than that of authoritarian. He will find himself as he should be – an authority.

The teacher as authority knows the content of the day, knows his students, knows the community, and knows how to structure a learning experience that will produce motivation in his students. This is the role of the teacher. Contrary to the tener of much of the driving conversation about teachers, we are authorities. We are authorities of education and we must be willing to stand up and say as much.

Sadly, it is not only the reformist/traditionalist camps that are wearing away the authority of teachers, though they are those whose practice tends toward authoritarianism.

Progressives have long contrued the works of John Dewey to suggest that teachers should step back, hide their authority and let students fail as they will without assistance. This is decidedly neither what Dewey meant nor what he wrote.

Writing in his small but powerful Experience & Education, Dewey wrote, “On the contrary, basing education upon personal experience may mean more multiplied and more intimate contacts between the mature and the immature than ever existed in the traditional school, and consequently more, rather than less, guidance by others.”

What Dewey was certainly arguing against, and what does not become a great school or great community is teacher as authoritarian, dictating actions, answers, and access with little-to-know regard for students’ abilities to navigate those spaces on their own.

Control is a tempting mistress. In the absense of wisdom and the ability or will to structure motivating learning experiences for students, it is frequently the goal of many classroom teachers of all stripes. To build the schools we need, though, we must be authorities within a democracy.

Things I Know 209 of 365: Teachers neglect their Teacher Voices

There is no index of character so sure as the voice.

– Benjamin Disraeli

More than once when speaking to a room crowded with non-students I’ve forgone a microphone and decided to use my “teacher voice.”

I usually make reference to my choice, and people chuckle and nod knowingly.

Everyone knows the teacher voice.

In all the talking of toolkits and techniques, the teacher voice rarely, if ever, comes up.

We’ll discuss cooperative learning strategies and phonemic awareness until we’re offered early retirement, but the teacher voice gets no play.

Until Monday when Chicago school teacher Adam Heenan launched his “Use Your Teacher Voice” campaign.

Heenan is asking teachers to create 30-second videos in which they talk about any edu-topic they’d like. His only requirement, they use their teacher voices. (He’d also prefer they remain civil.)

Heenan claims “our authority, our teacher identity has been taken away or stolen from us. In others cases we just haven’t capitalized on the opportunities to say what we love about teaching and what we believe needs to change in ways that are best for teaching and learning.”

I agree.

As of this writing, Heenan’s Teacher Voice channel on Youtube has only two uploads.

But, word is spreading.

I’m excited to see more.

I’m excited to make my own.

Everyone has an opinion about public education, and most people see themselves as education experts because the majority of Americans spent around 13 years of their lives in public education systems.

Still, teachers are the authority.

They know classrooms and the work it takes to make them places of safety, learning, creativity and community better than anyone else.

Heenan’s campaign encourages teachers to speak with authority to their own authority.

It’s a great way to spend 30 seconds.

Things I Know 156 of 365: The clothes make neither the man nor the idea

Make it work.

– Tim Gunn

In one of my favorite essays, Robert Fulghum recounts his days as an art teacher, admitting he wore two buttons in the classroom.

One read “Trust me. I’m the teacher.” The other read, “Question authority.”

I first read the essay as a kid of 12, so I remember thinking it funny in an old people kind of way.

Now that I’m a teacher, I am more conscious of the image I exude in the classroom and the message of those buttons. At any point in the year, you might have walked into my classroom and found me in pressed chinos, a button-down and a bow tie or jeans and a sweater.

Today, as some visitors from another school entered my room, I saw their eyes flash to my feet.

We’re in the midst of a heat wave in Philadelphia, and I chose sandals as I got dressed this morning. I’m supposed to be a hippie English teacher, right?

My guests, as some do when they go visiting, were dressed formally.

I’m not certain whether or not they caught me catching them looking at my choice in footwear.

I made no mention of it as introductions were made – I do have some social graces.

Visiting SLA to discuss the integration of technology into the classroom, they asked if I could talk about what my students were doing in class.

I explained they were working on writing projects of choice, which they’d researched individually with peer review of that same research.

I spoke to the fact that students were exploring types of writing and writerly voices at a variety and depth I’d never have been able to match had I set such an ambitious agenda.

I talked about synchronous editing and how Google Docs afforded me the ability to watch not only my students’ progress as writers, but their progress as editors and revisers as well.

I expounded on how allowing for choice, setting basic expectations and utilizing all the available tools gave me access to more data and understanding of students’ needs and abilities than I’d ever have access to in a standard classroom.

And, I did it all wearing sandals.

I asked my guests to trust me as a teacher, but showed them it was okay to question authority.

I realize sometimes wearing the uniform of the realm makes access easier to obtain. I wore a suit to prom and will dress up for graduation. Tuesday, though, I wore a shirt with a skulls and crossbones as well as a toy sheriff’s badge with my name on it a student gave me.

You’re just as likely as not to find me dressing the part on any day.

Still, there’s something to be said for reminding ourselves that ideas have no uniform and that the shapes of creativity never are.

I’d hate to think I ever missed an amazing idea or person because I’d decided they weren’t dressed up enough.

Things I Know 149 of 365: I am an authority

I did something arguably pompous and decidedly cheeky yesterday.

In the fever dream that was the completion of my last annotated bibliography for a good long time, I decided to use a book in which I had been cited. Not only that, I made reference to something I’d said in the book in order to back up a point I was making in my annotation.

The whole thing struck me as rather odd, and I did what I usually do when faced with the oddity of my life – I tweeted it.

I tweeted what I had done and admitted to waiting for the universe to fold in on itself.

It was a strange feeling using me to back myself up.

Within a few minutes, a few folks replied on twitter – each equally cheeky.

One reply stood out. I’m not certain of its exact level of cheekiness, but it certainly got me thinking.

Durff asked, “What makes you an authority?”

That’s the kind of question that’ll get a guy pondering.

My initial reaction, whether genuine humility or my midwestern roots, was to say to myself, “Oh, no, I’m not. Not me. No authority here.”

Then I started pondering a bit more.

Turns out, I am an authority.

Not only am I familiar with the topic about which I was speaking, but I work to refine my practice daily. I try to push the envelope of what can be done and am constantly reflecting when I fall short so that I can improve on each try. Others recognize my experience and consult me on the topic regularly and by all accounts take what I say to heart as useful and wise.

I am an authority.

Am I the authority? No.

But the more I think about it, the more denying my authority in any given subject feels akin to calling myself a facilitator instead of a teacher.

I’m not an expert, genius or guru.

Someday, maybe, but not today.

I’m not always right.

Someday, maybe, no, never ever ever.

I might not always be an authority. I might fall behind, lose interest or be proven interminably wrong.

For now, though, I am an authority. I have earned that right.

For the same reason I wouldn’t accept a student’s claim of stupidity, I will own my authority.