They worked hard for these boys, trying to make ends meet, but they needed extra support sometimes, and my husband and I found ourselves helping out occasionally. Toward the end of Bryan’s life, just a year after he graduated from high school, I cherished time with him as he recalled fun memories from the hospital bed set up in his living room. He laughed out loud when he reminded me of the time I let him ride a bicycle through the middle of town. His balance was so poor that he had to go as fast as he could to keep the bike upright, all the while knowing he did not have the physical ability to stop the bike on his own. He teased me about how I could barely keep up with him as I ran alongside him to prevent him from crashing. I must have been crazy! Oh, but it was worth it to hear his laugh and see the joy in his face that came from the feeling of freedom as the wind touched his face. The independence of riding on his own gave Bryan a reprieve from his present reality, and I was so grateful to be there with him.
In my naiveté as a young teacher, I only knew to meet Bryan right where he was: stubborn, convicted, and fighting his disease with all his might! He taught me to see beyond his disability, beyond the seventh-grade student who didn’t care much about his school work. He helped me to see his heart; he invited me, in attitude and spirit, to meet him there and to provide opportunities for him to accomplish small tasks and achieve what seemed to be impossible. Somehow, some way, I understood that although academic achievement was important to his life as a student, it would have to take a back seat to Bryan’s need for independence, his desire to be the active kid he had always been, for just a bit longer.
Even today, my memories of Bryan influence my motivation to encourage educators to meet all colleagues and students where they are; to see all of them for the people they are as human beings, knowing that we may not comprehend the reason behind someone’s way of being. We must attempt to see past a disconcerting behavior in order to seek an understanding of what happened in that person’s life to cause such a response. This doesn’t mean that we neglect to correct the behavior or disregard expectations for positive conduct, but such consequences or high expectations will be meaningless if we remain unaware of the catalyst that prompted the undesirable conduct.
Our students provide us with plenty of opportunities to put this quest for understanding into practice. Our youngest learners, especially, can test our patience because they frequently resort to “acting out” behavior when they don’t have the words to articulate why they are upset or frustrated. Students in middle or high school may be capable of explaining their outbursts or negative actions, but they don’t always want to share or verbalize. They may have protective factors in place, due to trauma, fear, or embarrassment, that prevent us, as educators, from being enlightened to the the story behind their behavior. As a result, it can be challenging for us to connect with these students.
In fact, the students we tend to have the greatest difficulty building relationships with, the ones who tend to be our repeat offenders with regard to discipline issues, disrespect, bullying, and the like—as well as the students who are often targets of such behavior—are frequently kids who live with the reality of adversity. Some act angry, tough, and self-righteous; others appear apathetic or rude. Author and educational leader Eric Jensen (2009) writes, “Behavior that comes off as apathetic or rude may actually indicate feelings of hopelessness and despair” (p. 29). Think about it. We see this behavior in our students. Here’s a challenge for you: Try to see behind the façade, to determine what they might be feeling and thinking and find out why, even when they push you away. If we are persistent and accepting, we will connect with the hearts of our students. In doing so, we will set the foundation for trust that allows our students to feel seen and heard, which ultimately helps them know that they are people whom we care about and in whom we find worth.
Take Time to Learn
You may be wondering: How? How do I connect with a kid who is pushing me away? How do I connect, when in that very moment I’d rather scream? Or even, How am I supposed to connect with this kid, when right now, I don’t even like him? These questions are based in the reality of day-to-day interactions with students who display behaviors that sometimes make us want to pull out our hair. I offer two solutions. First, we must take time to learn about our students. I recently spoke with an elementary school principal who said that he was going to encourage all of his teachers to write down three things that they knew about their students’ lives outside of school. He emphasized that he did not want them to write what they assumed, but rather what they really knew. Inevitably there will be some students about whom teachers have no knowledge, other than their experience of those students at school. Gaining this knowledge will provide teachers with insight into the human being behind the behavior, the story behind the student. Seeking to learn more about our students is valuable in helping us, as educators, to better support, guide, and teach them so that they can make responsible choices.
Change the Questions
The second solution comes from a philosophy embedded in the teachings and practices of an organization called Creating the Future (2018). Hildy Gottlieb, cofounder of this organization, lives by the credo that, if we change the questions, we can change the world.
Have you ever really thought about the questions you ask? When our tough students act out or demonstrate behavior that we know may escalate, we tend to ask demanding questions such as, “Why did you do that?” or “What were you thinking?” These questions can put kids, and colleagues or employees for that matter, on the defensive. They naturally assume the question comes with a predetermined judgement or assessment of the situation and that, regardless of their answer, it will likely result in a negative consequence. Instead of getting answers, by asking these questions, we aggravate the situation inadvertently. To avoid doing so, we can replace the questions that we ask the student, colleague, or employee with a simple request: “Can you tell me more. . . ?” We can follow that up with “. . . about the situation,” “. . . about how you’re feeling right now,” “. . . about what upset you?” or any other open-ended question appropriate to the situation. The tell me more request lets the person with whom we are talking know that we are willing to listen and that we want to understand what happened from his or her perspective. This is an ideal way to meet people exactly where they are in the moment, without jumping to conclusions or heightening any anxiety they may already have. When children or adults feel heard or encouraged, which this type of question allows, they are more open to connection and less likely to repeat the same negative behavior in the future. This does wonders for classroom management, but it can also have a lasting effect on a student’s life as an adult.
You Were the First People to Tell Me I Could Be Somebody
Case in point, last year I received a letter from a former student who had struggled throughout middle and high school. In fact, she even dropped out for several months prior to enrolling in our school. She wrote to our staff after receiving her acceptance letter to a four-year university. Her letter is a testimony to the power of connection, support, and encouragement in the school system (see Figure 1.1).
Figure 1.1
What Kat didn’t say in her letter is that we taught her using our most engaging instructional strategies. We created academic and behavioral interventions—this was before they had official names as multi-tiered systems of support. We pushed her to achieve academically and helped her develop her decision-making skills. But, more important, what we did that made a sustainable difference in Kat’s life was to take the time to see past her addiction and behind her truancy and her intermittent apathy, in order to believe in her potential. Sometimes, as educators, we forget the importance of this mentality as a crucial element of preparing our students to be college and career ready.
When I was a principal, I was blessed to work with a multitude of talented
