For ten years I was in the middle. Middle school, that is. Grinding away as a teacher of the strange and lovely beings that are middle schoolers. Last year I stepped out of that world for a bit, and now, with fresh eyes and a clear mind, I can look back and see how complicated and fascinating middle schoolers are.
Take a close look at a middle schooler and you will see all of humanity wrapped in one single person. They are as whimsical as they are cautious. They are constantly comparing, reliant on approval and acceptance, yet desperately craving creative outlets, freedom, and independence. Middle schoolers are as complex as grown-ups and as simple as kids.
Middle school is also unique because the stakes for these kids are trickier to define. There is no high school diploma or college acceptance looming overhead. Gone (for many) are the elementary school days of pure joy, carefree inquiry, and adoration for one’s teacher. They are in the land of in-between. And it feels like they’re just barely going to get through it. Motivating these folks requires serious effort.
Middle school teachers think a lot about motivating their flock. I can attest. It was flat-out hard work to get my students to buy into “the why” of each task. I can still hear my overly forced sales pitch and can still imagine it falling deaf on the ears of my pupils. I wanted to motivate kids by adding purpose to each lesson. Engagement, substance, quality. I cared a lot about all of that. Yet I always resorted to the same song and dance.
So, before any lesson or major new unit, I led my students through the “why this matters” soliloquy. Phrases such as, You’ll need this for next year, and I want you to succeed at the high school; As an adult you must know how to __________; The critical thinking we’re about to do will forever change your life; Writing is a necessary life skill — you must trust me! And, on my not-so-gracious days, BECAUSE THE STATE SAYS WE HAVE TO!
Enter Mrs. Morrow’s fifth grade classroom. Last school year, Mrs. Morrow invited me in to work with her kind and energetic bunch. She’d heard about my ebook, The Write Structure, and was excited to introduce a simple and transferable writing method to her kids. As with most things in life, I went in with a clear expectation in my mind: I would assist Mrs. Morrow in teaching a writing structure to her students. They would practice writing with it, and ultimately, transfer it into their own writing with little (or no) teacher guidance. And, as I emerged from this experience, I am delighted to share that I turned out to be the learner, Mrs. Morrow and her kids the teachers.
Mrs. Morrow is a gifted and innovative teacher. To say she thinks outside the box is a gross understatement. I popped into her classroom one Spring day and unexpectedly learned a lesson on motivation and how to authentically help students discover “the why” of a task. On that surprise visit this Spring, Mrs. Morrow walked me through her approach to proving “the why” to her students. It went something like this:
After several teacher models of The Write Structure method (text-response type lessons), she read through an anchor text with her class and guided them through some comprehension-check multiple choice questions.
With virtually no instruction or reminders, she assigned a written response question (requiring an analysis/response to the text) as homework.
She collected the writing samples and scored them according to The Write Structure.
Students received corrective feedback and critique (along with some not-so-great scores). They were immediately bummed out.
She held a class discussion and asked, “what went wrong?” “what did you all forget to do?” Oh… they collectively replied. We forgot our writing structure; we didn’t identify it, prove it, or bring-it-back-around in any of our paragraphs.
Mrs. Morrow found an anchor text similar to the one she read with her class and a correlating written response question (requiring an analysis/response to the text). She wrote a response that mirrored the ones she had just critiqued, scored, and returned to her students.
Without allowing her class to read the anchor text she found, she shared the written response question and her response with her class. She let them critique her work. They tore her apart! There is not enough information! You don’t even have paragraphs! Where are your prove its and bring-it-back-arounds. They went on and on.
“AH HA!” She declared with pride (You know, the type of moment teachers live for?).
Mrs. Morrow capped off her point by leading another class discussion about takeaways and lessons learned.
By showing to her kids that, indeed, they needed the writing structure — and plenty more practice with it — Mrs. Morrow motivated her class. And she further proved “the why” by sharing her own writing — demonstrating to her kids that when writing lacks structure, proof, and logic it is both painful and confusing to read.
Mrs. Morrow proved to her students that writing is important in a way that was clever, innovative, and authentic. Because of that, she didn’t need to run through “the why” sales pitch with her students; She didn’t have to say a word about their need to improve on writing structure. They figured it out right before her very eyes.
And so here I am, after stepping into a new learning environment and watching kids authentically experience their own need to improve, reassessing the ways I flatlined in motivating my own students. Today I am the one who’s motivated. Motivated to think and teach like Mrs. Morrow. To think outside the box. To prove to my students, whether they are in the middle or somewhere else, that the work we do in the classroom matters.
Joy & cheer,
Lindsay
Interested in a copy Lindsay’s book, The Write Structure: A Simple and Effective Method for {Teaching} Writing Across the Content Areas? You can find it here.