Patty McGee
In making the case for humane teaching, I open with the courageous words that I have heard students say to their teachers:
A kindergartener: When you yell, it makes me sad and afraid.
A second grader: Please, please don’t dump my desk when it is messy.
A fifth grader: When you announce the highest test scores with a drum roll, it makes others feel bad, especially those who work hard and will never score the highest.
A seventh grader: I am having trouble learning in your class because I am afraid you are going to embarrass me by throwing my binder on the floor, too.
A tenth grader: The fact that my paper was the most marked up in the class does not mean I should read it aloud to my classmates.
These are just a few of the statements I have heard in the past few years. Students shouldn’t have to self-advocate in these ways. These pleas for compassion compel me to say:
We are experiencing an epidemic of inhumane teaching.
I state this bluntly because I cannot circle around this issue for another moment. Through actions and inactions, spoken words and stony silences, teachers are creating a hostile learning environment, whether they realize it or not. Too many students endure school days punctuated with inhumane experiences, either directed at them or their peers. Whether it’s intentional or not, and whether it’s a byproduct of being saturated in an uncivil media culture, inhumane teaching is suffocating our children. In Alfie Kohn’s description of this epidemic, he writes, “Students tend to be regarded not as subjects but as objects, not as learners but as workers. By repeating words like ‘accountability’ and ‘results’ often enough, the people who devise and impose this approach to schooling evidently succeed in rationalizing what amounts to a policy of feel-bad education.” (Kohn 2004)
Unrealistic expectations are being heaved onto educators, no doubt about it. It’s understandable to bristle and buckle under the pressure of accountability and raising the bar mandates. This pressure, however, does not give us educators permission to fuel inhumane learning environments. Yet it is happening. Educators have become far too comfortable saying damaging statements within earshot: These kids will never be ready for the test next year; high school is going to be a rude awakening; he is so low in math. It is hurting our students. Ultimately, it is hurting ourselves too. When we diminish students, we feel diminished.
I say this as someone who is guilty of misusing my power as an educator. I have outwardly shown frustration at answering the question that I already answered a half dozen times. “Okay, everyone, I am going to say this one more time. Jack, Jack, are you listening? I don’t think you are.” Even when I perpetuated seemingly neutral habits like naming students by their reading level, I was undermining learners’ confidence and capacity to learn. And every time I did something like this, whether during whole class teaching or with individual students, I felt a nugget of yuck in my gut. I am not sure I could have articulated it at the time, but now I see that it felt wrong because it was going against the very grain of my beliefs. Those were stress-fueled power plays, cheap shortcuts, and honestly, authoritarian acts.
It is time to commit ourselves to what feels morally sound: humane teaching.
Humane teaching is teaching with recognition of the learner. It springs from our own self-respect and professionalism, and an awareness that students thrive when teachers bring to their role a sense of stewardship.
Carl Rogers, grandfather of positive psychology and one of the great humanitarians of our time, describes this approach as “prizing the learner” and it is remarkably impactful on learning. “It is an acceptance of this other individual as a separate person, having worth in her own right… a prizing of the learner as an imperfect human being with many feelings, many potentialities.” It is the belief that all learners possess the innate desires to grow and yet are grappling with growing. “Learning is increased…. when they are simply understood – not evaluated, not judged, simply understood from their own point of view, not the teacher’s.” (Rogers 1967 304-311)
In line with Carl Rogers’ thinking, I am not suggesting we approach our students in a fluffy, sugary-sweet, singsongy way. That’s just nonsense and all students see right through it. Instead, I am urging us to take on courageous, brave teaching. Embrace the difficulties and the struggle of learning; accept the many complexities manifested in students and teaching without finger-pointing, blame, and humiliation. This is integral in the work we do: namely, teaching with compassion and esteem.
So just how do we teach with compassion and esteem? I am tempted to succinctly tell you in the numbered tips style so prevalent in all media, designed to hold the attention of a distracted population, but it’s not possible to squeeze this issue into such a format. There are no capsulized solutions.
So, instead, I reach out to you, requesting you to draw in close for just a bit longer so I may share a bigger message here. YOU are not the problem. If you are reading this blog, you are likely an enlightened educator who doesn’t shame students. But WE are all the problem. Let me explain. We can post, read, like, share, retweet these blogs till the cows come home, but that doesn’t seem to be stemming the tide of inhumane teaching in our schools. Instead, I want to crowdsource us and our own passion and smarts and outrage so that together, we recognize it’s time for greater collective action.
Within our schools, how might we use our insight and energy to help fellow educators learn more compassionate ways of interacting with students? How do we help us all be more compassionate with ourselves? It seems to me it’s done by way of a paradox— a pairing of zero-tolerance and generous, abundant curiosity about why we are resorting to those behaviors and how we might search out alternatives. It is a strict, daily commitment to prize the learners within our fold in the manner of Carl Rogers. We also must, every day, recognize and prize ourselves and our fellow educators. And when this does not happen, we act. We do not let discomfort dissuade us from addressing inhumane teaching.
Instead, we might choose to do what one educator, a principal who has taught me much, did to face inhumane teaching head-on. First, she acknowledged the feeling in her gut that said, “No way. These words are callous and cruel. This is not who we are.” Second, she recognized her role in the situation. She owned that in some way, shape, or form she contributed to the way teachers were speaking about students. Bravely, professionally, and compassionately, she spoke to the educators about her expectations of humane teaching and how all must grow (including herself) to prize their students, especially those who seem most challenging. From there, they all made a plan of action to study together— to study ways of educating humanely. Most importantly, they followed that plan of study together by reading, talking, teaching, and supporting one another in this work. May we all be inspired to follow this same path when advocating for educating compassionately.
This is brave, challenging work that requires persistence. Committing to humane teaching helps us ground ourselves in the greater purpose of the work we have been called to do, and helps us to teach from that sacred space so that learners no longer need to self-advocate for dignity. WE are the answer.
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Resources
Alfie Kohn Feel-Bad Education
Carl Rogers Infed
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Patty’s book is on Amazon.
Learn more about Patty: check out her website.
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