Please Don’t Raise Your Hand

A story from 43 years ago ...
Please Don’t Raise Your Hand
 
Some teachers have “it.”  They enter a room and are instantly in command. Students who, moments before, seemed beyond the appeal of reason suddenly take their seats to await instructions.
--Doug Lemov, Teach Like a Champion
 
At the age of 12, I was a complete menace.  Like many class clowns, I was eager to participate, just never in a productive way.   My job, as I saw it, was to liven things up, to have a blast in the land of the bored.  Teachers did not cherish my presence.   The more experienced threw me out if I exhaled loudly.   Less-experienced teachers called on me and then regretted it.
 
Teachers have never had more precise guidance on how to get students to stay on track.  The techniques of the most brilliant teachers have now been analysed and their secrets are revealed online.   For instance, asking for a show of hands is out; Lemov’s “Strong Voice,” “Precise Praise” and “Cold Calling” are topping the classroom management charts. 
 
But, as I was growing up in the 1960s, teachers were left to their own devices.  
 
An incident from my days at the Junior High School in Woodbury, Connecticut, springs to mind.  It was in a Maths class taught by a gentle soul, an earnest young lady in her first year of teaching, with an unfortunate name for a teacher: Miss Stankus. 
 
A friend and I had discovered a most fascinating publication, a monthly magazine with intriguing photographs.   We felt they should be shared with a wider public.  What better audience than our fellow students?  What better setting than Miss Stankus’s Maths class?
 
Having done the necessary set-up before class, I raised my hand.   Miss Stankus nodded warily in my direction.  
 
“Miss Stankus, there’s so much glare on the board, it’s hard to see.  Please, would you lower the shades?”
 
“Yes, of course, Andy.”   She went to the windows and began pulling down the shades, one by one.   She turned to me as she pulled down on the cord of the last shade, and asked, “Is that better?”
 
The full glory of our chosen image – the centerfold of Playboy’s Miss May, 1967 – was now rolling into view.
 
“Oh, yes.  Much better, ” I replied.
 
The class erupted with squeals of delight.  Miss Stankus stopped pulling down on the cord.  She turned to see what she had brought into view.  Her head jolted back.  She appeared momentarily stunned.  She yanked frantically on the cord to get it to rewind.  The shade retracted a bit and then got stuck.
 
A pair of shapely legs dangled down from the half-rolled shade.  The principal was summoned and order was restored.   I remained eager to participate, but Miss Stankus never called on me again.
 
To keep characters like my younger self in line, a few of the 49 techniques revealed in Doug Lemov’s Teach Like a Champion, which recently peaked at #2 on the list of Amazon’s best-selling books, might come in handy.  There are no magic bullets here, just a strong dose of common sense.
 
For instance, in his description of what he calls “Strong Voice,” Lemov reminds teachers to get slower and quieter when they want control, to drop their voices and make students strain to hear.   Another strategy is to be clear and crisp and then stop talking.  Use too many words at your peril. 
 
Lemov advises that teachers “Self-interrupt,” that is, to begin a sentence and then stop if talking persists after the first word or two:  “Form 1s, I …”  Cut off your own sentence; stop and stand stock-still until everyone is attentive, then continue “… need you to take out your calculators.”
 
Describing “Precise Praise,” Lemov says champion teachers distinguish acknowledgement from praise, using acknowledgement when expectations have been met – “That’s it, Tshepo.  That’s how we do it.” – and praise when expectations have been exceeded or when the exceptional has been achieved: “Boitumelo’s really done something amazing.”  “Great job, Karabo!” 
 
“Cold Calling” is calling on students, regardless of whose hand is up, to drive the achievement of every student in the class.  It should be done in a systematic and predictable manner, rather than a “gotcha” approach, and the pattern of questions should progress from the simple to the complex. That allows all students to be drawn in.  In its simplest form, it’s “Question.  Pause.  Name.”  Only one student says the answer aloud, but, in a Cold Call situation, anticipating that they just might be called on, every student prepares an answer.
 
Speaking of Cold Calls, Miss Stankus, wherever you are, please forgive me.  As a school principal, my penance continues.  It is now safe to call on me, raised hand or not.
 
Visit Lemov’s website for short videos of teachers at the top of their game: www.uncommonschools.org/usi/aboutUs/taxonomy.php
 
 
Andrew Taylor is the Principal of the Maru-a-Pula School in Gaborone, Botswana.  His email address is: principal.map@gmail.com.  Maru-a-Pula’s website is: www.maruapula.org.