The Dog Whisperer and Teaching: Consequences

In the first installment of my series on the similarities between teaching and the television show The Dog Whisperer, we will examine the role of consequences in achieving desired behavior. 

The Dog Whisperer explains on his show that dogs associate petting, holding, and affection with good behavior and harsh noises ("TSSS!") and quick jerks on the leash with bad behavior. Humans sometimes end up using the wrong signals to try to get the behavior they want, which makes the dogs crazy.  For example, some dog owners pick up their dogs or pet them when they are growling or being bad, which tells the dog, "Oh, I love it so much when you are being horrible!"  Imagine being at a dinner at a long conference table where someone asked you to pass the peas.  As soon as you lift the plate and pass it in their direction, the pea-wanter frowns and presses a button that sends an electric shock through you.  "Go on, pass the peas," the person says.  This time, you look around first.  These are peas, right?  You lift the plate again nervously, and again, are shocked yet again for your actions.  If this continues, you would eventually go insane.*

The same thing happens in teaching, only with less electric shocking and more peas.  Many times, we want a specific type of behavior from our students, but don't realize the signals we are sending are supporting exactly the type of undesired behavior we are trying to avoid.  We want to believe that it's our students who are crazy and terrible, not us as disciplinarians.  This is typically a rookie mistake, but I know many veterans who still operate this way.

Look at this imaginary conversation I had with a colleague (Ms. Educator) last week.

Ms. Educator:  I just want to go home and get under my electric blanket with wet socks on.  I can't stand my 6th period.
Me: Uh oh.  What happened today?
Ms. Educator: They started eating the Bingo cards.
Me: I'm sorry, did you say 'eating?'
Ms. Educator: Yep.  Eating.
Me: What did you do?
Ms. Educator: Well, you know, I told them that that was their warning, and if it kept happening, I would fail all of them.
Me: So what happened?
Ms. Educator: They kept eating them.
Me: Did you fail them?
Ms. Educator: I mean, no.  I couldn't fail 15 of them.
Me: So what did you do?
Ms. Educator: Nothing.  The bell rang.**

Are the students really at fault here? Let's look at the crimes of her 6th period class.

Student strikes:
-Eating Bingo cards
-Ignoring warnings
-Probably being annoying

Now let's look at the teacher strikes.

Teacher strikes:
-Giving them a warning about eating Bingo cards instead of an immediate consequence
-Making the next consequence completely unrealistic and one that punishes the innocent (failing everyone)
-Not following through with a consequence, however unrealistic
-Not instating ANY consequence for eaten Bingo cards
-Allowing students to leave class on time
-Allowing students to leave class without being shamed

Is the problem that the 6th period is crazy? Maybe.  But the bigger problem is the teacher's behavior.  By not showing her students a single consequence, Ms. Educator is telling her students, more or less, "I enjoy you being terrible.  Please keep being terrible, since it obviously doesn't bother me that much.  Here.  Take the keys to my classroom, and while you're at it, the ones to my sanity as well."  In other words, Ms. Educator is responding to her dogs' growling with affection.

On that note, it is also a scientific fact that most 6th periods are, in fact, crazy.  Lunchtime does something very scary to the teenage body for the hour that directly follows.

Next time on The Dog Whisperer and Teaching: Body Language.


Love,

Teach

P.S. For a list of consequences that will never be approved by anyone on any educational board, see this post.

*inspired by a recurring nightmare I had in college
**inspired by an actual conversation I had last year with a veteran teacher.  Replace "eating Bingo cards" with "farting" and it's almost verbatim.  What a difference a year makes!

The Dog Whisperer and Teaching: Part I

I love dogs.*  I often spend my breaks at school Google imaging "Beagle puppies," then "French Bulldog puppies," then "puppies with mustaches," then "all the puppies ever." I make up long, intricate, non-rhyming songs and sing them to my parents' dogs. I go to the dog park near my house, even though I don't have a dog.  I'm like the creepy man at playgrounds who  doesn't have a child.

I love dogs so much that I watch TV shows about them.  My favorite is The Dog Whisperer.  In case you do not have a television or your cable bundle lacks Animal Planet (heresy!), let me tell you what The Dog Whisperer, whose real name is Cesar Milan, does.  Cesar takes house calls from families with terrible dogs, flies across the country to meet with them, shows them what they (the humans!) are doing that is causing their dogs to behave terribly, and then shows them how to fix it. 

This weekend I watched an episode where this couple had a psycho Cocker Spaniel named Justice, which is funny in itself. Justice was super protective of the lady, but would bite the man and go completely berserk at random times.  Cesar flies across the country (I think the Pacific Northwest? They looked like they possibly made their own granola) to meet with the couple, and the first thing he says is, "You are training your dog that his behavior is OK."  The man pipes up, "No, no, no," insisting that the dog is crazy because the wife is too soft with him, and he DEFINITELY doesn't support his dog's behavior.  But Cesar gently points out that, by letting Justice walk in front of him, speaking to Justice in a high voice, and by petting Justice when he's being crazy "to calm him down," the man is actually saying in dog language, "Justice, I like you as a psycho Cocker Spaniel, and I would like you to stay as crazy as possible, please." The man has an aha moment and accepts Cesar's help.  The show then ends with some line that made me snort about how "Justice has prevailed."

 I love the show for the following reasons:

1) Dogs!

2) IT IS EXACTLY LIKE TEACHING.

Stay tuned.  Over the next few posts, I will explore the similarities between the world of Cesar Milan and the world of teaching. This will either lead to you and me being able to laugh together or will land me on national news as the story "Heartless Middle School Teacher Compares Students to Dogs."

Love,

Teach

*I also love cats, but they make my left eyeball swell to twice its normal size and my voice drop about three octaves.

Lessons from Romeo and Juliet

I taught short excerpts from Romeo and Juliet yesterday as an accompaniment to Chapter 22 of The Hunger Games, in which Katniss and Peeta, two "star-cross'd" lovers, share their first real kiss. I knew teaching R&J would be a stretch since it's usually saved for high school, but a) I like stretching, b) I love Shakespeare *snorts* *pushes up glasses* *spends a Saturday night reorganizing bookshelf*, and c) curriculum rules are made to be broken. 

Here are some of the things we learned:

1) Assistant principals generally do not appreciate Shakespearean jokes.   One of my students, Paul, isn’t quite sure how to let Shakespeare go outside of class. I watched between classes today as he pointed at various students in the hall, demanding, “DOFF THY PANTS!” or “Do you thumb your nose at me, sir?!”  Upon observing laughter/fun, one of our administrators  threatened him with a detention.  As my student walked past me, he muttered, “He jests at scars that never felt a wound.”  Even though it didn’t really make sense given the context, I found myself in the unfortunate circumstance of cackling like a crazed witch.

2) "They both prude." This was one response I got to my question, “How are Katniss and Juliet similar?” (It is kind of true.)

3) Paris > Romeo

We watched a few carefully selected clips from Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet, and one thing became clear to us all: if Juliet has a propensity for love at first sight, she definitely should have love-at-first-sighted Paris.

4) I can't pronounce "wherefore art thou" in under ten seconds.  Whefffer ott thou.  Whereforrat thou.  Wherefart thou. I tried to play it cool for my last class by just speaking very slowly when I got to that line, but I still got called out on it.

"Ok guys, so what stood out to you in that excerpt?"
"How long it took you to say line 5."
"Touche. Also, you just hurt my feelings.  I can't read good."
"I'm sorry, Miss."
"Gotcha. I win."

5) Middle school students can handle Romeo and Juliet.  My students were champs yesterday, way more champy than when I've done other difficult readings with them.  This doesn’t surprise me since Romeo and Juliet is kind of perfect for middle school. It's about hating your parents, the allure of forbidden love, the dangers of relying on your amygdalas, and how life-alteringly bad it is when your letter/text message doesn't get to the recipient.

6) Middle school students cannot handle stopping a video just before a kiss.  I thought I was going to have sharp objects thrown at me.  “AT LEAST PAUSE IT ON THEY LIPS TOUCHING!!!!!”

I think Shakespeare may have taught 7th grade at some point.

Love,

 Teach

Things Non-Teachers Say to Teachers

You are about to witness Love, Teach's very first video.

Things that are making me cackle:
1) "Hey. Girl."
2) When the girl playing me "counts" out 60 hours on her fingers
3) "Are you here for happy hour?" "NO."
4) "Some friends and I are heading up to the lakeHOWS"
5) The fact that I've sacrificed a good 30 minutes of Teacher Bedtime for some robots

There's talk of an Oscar.

Love,

Teach

Sleepytime log

The goal: Be up at 6:00 AM and have had 8 full hours of sleep
The challenge: Be tranquilized by Sleepytime Herbal Tea in 21 minutes

9:39 PM-- First few sips of tea.  Sometimes when I drink herbal tea I pretend I'm one of those jungle women in National Geographic who makes tea by grinding leaves and berries and boiling it over a fire.  I do a lot of pretending in my life.
9:43 PM--Looked at the clock and said, "Is it already taking effect?  No... can't be."
9:44 PM-- Several more big gulps.  Welp, see ya later.
9:45 PM-- Did my first long, slow blink.
9:48 PM-- Laughing because I sat here for three minutes trying to will my brain into thinking of something to write.  Sleepytime tea is having its way with me.
9:49 PM-- Finished off the cup.  So long, world.
9:51 PM-- Wondering if I could legally put Sleepytime tea in brownies and give them to my 7th period.  Every day.
9:52 PM-- NOW.  This is the "drunken stupor" part of the Sleepytime routine.  I feel like I've had a lobotomy.  Since I'm typing this in a Word document, I will have to transfer it to my blog.  I'm not sure I can handle logging in... seriously
9:55 PM-- "Do this!" I command myself.  That's a line from Hunger Games (ch. 14), but also what I'm telling myself to be able to function right now.  Also, it took me about 14 attempts to type "myself" correctly.
9:57 PM-- I have a headache.  Probably an early Sleepytime Tea hangover
9:59 PM-- Just said, "Mommy" out loud
10:00 PM-- The end.

This Mean, Mean Drink

A few weeks ago, I impulsively enrolled in an out-of-town professional development seminar that I'd heard was really great and informative.  Upon arriving this morning, I discovered that the seminar included a lecture and workshop led by my favorite professor from college, whom I haven't seen or spoken to in about 5 years and who I probably would have been OK never seeing again in my life.

Here is why.

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It is a truth universally acknowledged within the snobby English major (and really all academia) that intelligence is inversely proportionate to talkativeness. That is, the student who answers every discussion question as quickly as possible every time usually has the worst answers. Because of this, I decided early on in my college career that I wanted to be the Smart, Quiet Girl in my classes, contrary to my academic reputation in high school. As a Smart Quiet, I would only participate once or twice per class discussion, and each time would go through an intense data recall/revision process in my head before speaking, making sure that the final product would be one of the smartest things I'd ever said without revealing that I'd taken 30 minutes to craft it.  That's hard work, my friends.

You can imagine how exhausting it was for me to play the Smart, Quiet Girl (by nature I'm more of a Loud Wrong) but it served me well throughout my college career in that it not only won me killer grades, but also the awe and fear of my classmates.  Every class day for three years I played this part.

Every day but one.

It was a weekday in February or March of my sophomore year. I had been invited to have coffee with a friend-- let's call her Margie-- before my American Lit class. Despite the fact that I did not drink coffee at this time in my life, I enthusiastically accepted for four reasons:

1) Margie is wildly hilarious
2) She worked at the coffee shop and offered me the beverage for free
3) I felt like the cardboard coffee cup prop would reinforce my Smart, Quiet Girl image
4) The coffee shop was located near my English class

Allow me to reiterate that I did not drink coffee at this time in my life. It is important for the story.

The night before our coffee date, I did not sleep. Around 11 PM I decided I wanted to rewrite my entire 12-page essay for a creative writing workshop I was taking.  So I did. I finished around 7:30 AM and was happy with it, but by the time I met Margie I was already a little crazy.

“What do you want to drink?” she asked.
“Um, how about you order for me.” I was too afraid to tell Margie, a seasoned java veteran, that I'd never had more than a sip of coffee.
“You said you didn't sleep at all? How do you feel about espresso shots?”
“Uh, yeah.  That."

Margie and I found an empty table and chatted for a bit. The coffee tasted like dirt and fire, but I sipped and began to enjoy the buzz after only a few minutes.

“I feel all jazzy!” I told Margie.
“That’s great!” she said.

Eventually we parted ways and I crossed the street to my class. I had only finished about half the cup, but was pleasantly surprised at the energy and pep it provided me. I found myself wishing I wasn’t carrying my heavy backpack so that I could skip to class. So this is what I've been missing out on! Wow! Coffee!

By the time I walked in the room, the fun buzz had quickly turned into a dreadful panic. I was dangerously hyper. I crashed into in my seat next to a girl named Jessica, cracked my knuckles about ten times in a row and drummed my fingers on my desk.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

“No!” I whispered loudly, turning to face her completely. “Here's what happened I stayed up all last night writing and I’ve never had coffee before my friend asked me to meet her and she tricked me into this mean, mean drink and at first I liked it but now it's hurting me and myheadfeelslikeit'sfullofbees!" I held up two clenched fists dramatically.

Jessica stared at me and then started laughing. She said something but I don’t remember what it was. I think it had to do with the fact that I hadn’t said more than ten words to her before that point.

Our hip, young professor (I believe a grad student at the time) walked in and started class. I kind of had a crush on him, so I was hoping that acting as the Smart, Quiet Girl would, in addition to the benefits for my grade, also make him fall in love with me. Little did I know that dream was about to be hacked to pieces. By me.

“Hey guys. So what’d you think about the reading?” he asked, setting his book down on a stool.

“I DIDN’T DO IT.” I shouted. My response was so shocking to me that I immediately burst into hysterics. The entire class was looking at me in surprise. I had never spoken first for a discussion question, and I certainly had never uttered something so ridiculous. I looked over at Jessica. Her eyes were huge.

I looked back at the professor.

“Well." He was laughing. “I appreciate your honesty. Anyone else want to start us off?”

I couldn’t stop. Caffeine was moving through my veins like an avalanche.

“WELL I DID SOME OF THE READING BUT I STOPPED AFTER ABOUT FIVE PAGES,” I said, trying desperately to fold my hands in my lap. I took a deep breath. “Uhhh, it was pretty good."



My professor smiled. "It's okay, I know Hurston can be a bit wearysome," he said.  He really is the nicest and most affirming man alive.  "What stood out from the first 5 pages?  What resonated with you?"



"Yeah," I snorted.  "I don't think I can remember anything! I mean, I started reading the selection andthennextthingIknowI'mredoingmycreativewritingpaperfromscratch,howcrazyisthat,right?? FROM SCRATCH!"

I remember thinking, “Is this really happening?” I knew I was being completely ridiculous but could not shut up. It was like I would remember about Smart, Quiet Girl for about five seconds and calm down, but then the silence would become unbearable and I would have to speak. About NOTHING. Smart Quiet Girl wanted to strangle this Loud, Wrong, Horrible Coffee Jerk.

I honestly don’t remember the specifics of what happened the rest of that class. Defying any kind of logic or rhetoric, I answered EVERY question about a passage I didn’t even read. I know that at one point I stopped in the middle of what I was saying to explain my caffeine/lack of sleep situation to my professor and classmates. Everyone laughed politely, but I could tell what they were thinking. (i.e., “That girl is neither smart nor quiet.”)

“I wondered if something was off," he said, grinning. “I’m just glad to see you participating more!”

I cackled. Liar. You liked me better as a Smart Quiet.

When class was finally over, I shot out the door like a bat out of hell. A very caffeinated, embarrassed bat who’d been stuck in the hell of listening to her own inane answers for 50 minutes, unable to stop it. I was power-walking across campus, still fuming but also laughing out loud at myself, when I came across whatever student organization it was that held their annual bathtub donation fundraiser.

“Rub-a-dub-dub, put change in our tub!” called a female student, motioning to the bathtub full of coins.

“YEAH! OK!” I shouted back, totally uncharacteristically. I thrust my hand into the pouch of my hoodie and flung its jingly contents into the tub and marched away.

“Uh, hey. Ma’am? GIRL!”

“Me?” I turned around.

“You just donated your keys.” She leaned down and held up my key ring from the tub.

Well, then.

Three hours later, I experienced a mind-blowing caffeine crash and almost didn’t make it to the creative writing workshop for which I had sacrificed an entire night’s sleep. I rambled incoherently throughout the rest of the day and went to bed at about 6:30. When I woke up, it was as if it had all been a dream.

(It had not.)

The End.

---------------------------------------------------
I almost mentioned this story to him today.  But instead, I walked up to him and told him how glad I was to see that he was lecturing and how much I'd loved his class. He thanked me, then quickly left the room.

I think he was checking to make sure the coffee had been put away.


Love,

Teach