What's My Line?

I have been writing about the sayings and lines I use in class – and life. I will freely admit it, I repeat myself. I am a classroom teacher and reinforcing the lesson is an important skill. These lines real purpose is to help develop a classroom atmosphere. They form a kind of script. Students like things to be predictable. They like to know what to expect, but they balk at boring. My lines are a way to strike this balance.

When someone asks me, “What do you teach?” My wife and family will roll their eyes because they know my answer will always be, “Children.” Then someone will correct me and say that is “who” you teach, what subject do you teach? The truth is, the subject is secondary. I teach the kids. I teach the kids about literature, writing, thinking, communication, logic, theatre, and many other subjects. But I don’t teach a subject. The kids are my focus.

I teach my students what I call the platinum rule. I find that the golden rule doesn’t work for all teenagers. If you ask them, “Would you like to be treated that way?” They often reply, “That wouldn’t have bothered me. I was just joking. I can take a joke. She’s a baby. He’s too sensitive. I didn’t mean it that way.” You get the idea. Instead, the platinum rule asks us to treat each other better than we would like to be treated. It acknowledges our ignorance of each other. It says that, although I have gone to school with you since we were five, I may not know everything about you, including what might hurt. It asks us to be gentle and kind. I tell my students, “that’s the kind of people we want to be. We want to be the kind kind.”

I am a huge science fiction fan, so some of my lines come from that world. I am not sure why students must ask to ask a question, but they often do: “I have a question!” they say. My answer is always the same: “Forty-two!” When they tell me that isn’t the answer, I object, telling them they must have the wrong question! We laugh. We get on to the other questions, even if the answer really is forty-two!

Students must think that their teachers, or perhaps most adults, are all knowing. They assume we are big fans of the secret reality TV show in which they star. Perhaps they wouldn’t find us credible authorities if they really knew how little we know about their worlds. I am candid with kids about this. I ask them to assume that I am stupid. I tell them that it isn’t that hard to believe. I tell them that I failed college telepathy class and I cannot read minds.  It is okay to tell me simple and direct things. It is okay to say what you need to say and speak your truth.

A line I use almost everywhere in my life is, “We’ll figure it out.” The computer doesn’t work? We’ll figure it out. We don’t know what the text means? We’ll figure it out. We’re not sure how to get there? We’ll figure it out. We can figure it out. It is what we are all about. Together, we can solve problems and learn together. No knot is so tangled that, working as a team, we cannot untie it. We are capable people – especially when we pool our resources.

Often during a discussion, I will simply ask for a show of hands (Thanks, Alex for remembering this line). No question, just a show of hands. Then, a moment later, when I ask a real question, “how many people agree with the author?” We have already raised our hands once. It is easier to do it again. Like the door-to-door salespeople who get their foot in the door by asking lots of “yes” questions, a show of hands can invite participation.

I don’t mind it at all when a student says, “You always say that” or “I knew that was what you were going to say.” The predictable shouldn’t get dull, but if it engenders a sense of belonging, participation, and levity, then it is okay to take a risk, provide an answer, and learn together!

That’s my line!