This is the first entry in an ongoing series called “Old School meets New School” all about keeping the traditional practices that work while innovating those that don't.
I know how to shock my fellow teachers. First, I say that my students have a seating chart. Gasp! Not only that but a seating chart where they sit in rows. Another gasp! These students, sophomores through seniors, raise their hands before they answer a question. Triple gasp! And when their answer does not meet my expectations, I ask them to try again. Final gasp!
Does that mean I am a “strict” teacher? Yes, yes, it does. But what does strict really mean anyway, and why does that have such a negative connotation?
Surely, if you’re strict it means that you are mean, cruel, or demeaning. But just the opposite is true: If you care about someone, you want the very best from them. Being strict means you care enough to hold them to the highest standards possible.
There is also an idea that if you are strict, you are “restricting” your students. But what you are really restricting is the off-task behavior that can limit students’ learning. By restricting distractions, you are actually freeing them to learn!
Look at some of my classroom rules:
- No cell phones
- No hats or hoods
- No headphones
- No heads down or eyes closed
What are these rules saying? I don’t care about my students? Or I care enough about my students to make sure that they actually learn.
If I were restricting my students, I would not want to hear their voices. I wouldn’t want to hear them try to analyze, interpret, and connect with the stories I teach. Yet I desperately do.
I wish I could magically transport all of you to my classroom to show you what I’m talking about. My students and I have some of the best discussions. They analyze. They think. They express their feelings. And, by the way, not all of these students are what you would call “honor students.” Many of them are in general courses. But they know what I expect, and if they do not meet my expectations, they know I will motivate them until they do.
Being strict does not mean there is no fun, noise, or laughter in my classroom. I laugh with my students every day. We have house challenges, where they toss poker chips across the room, build towers, or shout answers at the top of their lungs. If you follow my work, you know it is built around the idea of making school engaging and exciting. But it all operates within the boundaries of the rules and expectations. Otherwise, you have chaos, and chaos is not conducive to learning.
But isn’t being strict a relationship-killer? I have a wonderful relationship with my students. It is not friendship. It is more important than that: It is a teacher-student bond. I have officiated at my students’ weddings and, heartbreakingly, spoken at their funerals. No relationships were harmed by being strict. In fact, I think those relationships were strengthened. They saw I cared because I wanted the very best for them.
I still remember when a colleague attempted to put me down by calling me a “dictator.” I smiled and said, “Well, if you mean I am in control of my classroom, you are correct.” Control is not oppression. Expectations do not crush individuality: They allow it to blossom. This is why we need to re-think the stigma of the strict teacher.