The Sticker Revolution

StickersSeveral years ago, I had a sub who went a bit above and beyond. She not only took up whatever assignment I’d left for that day – she organized the papers and completion-graded them. In other words, she noted who’d finished and seemed to have taken the work seriously. She didn’t give them a number or a letter grade, of course – that would have been bold. But she did give each paper meeting her requirements a sticker.

I chuckled when I saw the papers the next day. Clearly this was someone more comfortable with elementary, maybe middle school. Nothing wrong with any of that, of course, but these were high school students. Pre-AP Freshmen. They were practically people. They weren’t going to be motivated by…

Holy Moses in a leaky basket, how they lost their minds when they saw the stickers. There was squealing from many of the girls, and almost genuine protest from some of the boys whose papers lacked the adhesive trolls or monkeys or whatever they were. I couldn’t believe it.

“Mr. Cereal! How come you never give us stickers? Don’t you love us? Do you not care if we do well?!?”

OK, they were partly kidding, but not entirely. Not even mostly. Many of them responded more powerfully than I could have ever imagined to the freakin’ stickers. Still… surely it was a fluke, right? A one-time thing? Kids are weird – you never know what’s gonna trigger them one day and mean nothing the next. I dismissed it as quickly as I had pet rocks and disco back in the day.

StickersA week or two later I was at one of those Everything’s A Dollar So Stop Asking places with my wife, looking for who-knows-what, and I noticed several packages of the most obnoxious rainbow and puppy stickers. I grabbed them. Then some generic superheroes – not Marvel, not even DC, but some cheap knock-off assortment of colorful caped stereotypes. I spent less than ten dollars total, purely on a whim – what they heck, right?

The next reading quiz, students who scored a natural 100% (getting all the multiple choice questions right, not factoring in bonus points available from the more-involved short answer questions) received a sticker on their quiz next to the grade.

They loved it. It was almost embarrassing how quickly it escalated.

Students previously satisfied with 88% actually put in extra time to get stickers on their quizzes. A few kids who weren’t going to be getting 100% on their best day received them periodically for the largest jump in scores between quizzes or other nonsense. In short, it became a thing. I did it for years just because I found it amusing. Sometimes it seemed to actually change behavior, but over time it was mostly just stupid fun. The stickers weren’t driving the curriculum or anything – I wasn’t gamifying my flipped project-based #edtech lesson. They were a fluke that found traction. 

StickersI may have gotten a bit too excited and purchased way too many random, quirky packs of adhesive approval throughout the years. There were a few times I almost gave assignments just to use my cool new stickers! (Almost, I said. Stop judging me!)

Why am I telling you this?

We can professionally develop ourselves silly and memorize every Marzano text available-at-this-sponsored-link-please-buy-everything-I-get-a-percentage, and still sometimes it’s gonna be the weirdest, most random things that work – or at least work with some kids, in some situations, for some teachers, some of the time. When I’ve shared this with other educators, no one is surprised. Kids are weird like that, but of course teachers aren’t the most normal people in the world, either.

I suspect it was a type of unexpected approval, or a relationship-builder, maybe. I don’t really know for sure. And honestly, I didn’t entirely care – it was just something that worked for me, so I share it. Other teachers share what they do, also, and together we figure out what works most of the time. Some of us also lead workshops sharing ideas and strategies, much based on research and sound pedagogy, and some just based on experience and time. We can explain why some of it works, while some things just… do.

And then one day it didn’t.

I was bouncing through an introductory discussion with a new group of kids and someone shared a particularly pithy comment (I have no recollection what). I reacted with great approval and announced that THAT deserves a STICKER! as I marched back to my desk where I’d tucked them away for just such a joyous…

Nothing.

There was nothing.

StickersI mean, I gave her the sticker. She said thanks, and looked a little confused. We kept going, and eventually I reacted to another thoughtful response with a second sticker. Then a third. Because when something’s not working, you have to do it more, faster, and with greater emphasis.

Still… nothing.

They were polite enough. The discussion went fine. The stickers just made no sense to them. Maybe it was my timing, or the context, or just a different group in a different state coming from different backgrounds. No biggie – we’ve found other ways to connect and learn and for me to push them to give a little more. I don’t need to understand what changed, precisely – although in hindsight I do wonder if I went a bit Bill Murray throwing snowballs in Groundhog Day and killed it. If I’m being honest, it had stopped working in conferences a couple of years earlier, but I’d kept doing it out of sheer momentum (and teachers tend to be overly polite about such things).

So, mild embarrassment I hadn’t caught on a bit more quickly, but no real harm and no lasting foul.

It never occurred to me to write a book about it, do a video series, start upping my lecture fee, or smother social media in derisive comments about teachers who don’t use stickers. I suppose I could have at least hit up Pearson or TEDx, but like I said, I’m just… slow that way. Plus, while the most casual perusal of my Twitter feed will easily dismiss any suspicions I might be carefully building a brand over here, I do have some shame. I may not get edu-famous (and yeah, I want to – who doesn’t?), it’s more important I be able to sleep at night.

Still, I could have shared it more vocally, I guess. There’s nothing more rewarding when you’re a relatively new teacher than stumbling across something that works – a lesson, a classroom management technique, even a book of stickers. And you should rejoice in those moments; they’re largely why we signed up. And I’m always happy to share. I have entire sections on each of my websites hoping there are folks who find them useful from time to time.

StickersAnd one day they won’t work, or at least they won’t work the same way. That doesn’t mean I’ve failed, or that you’re doing it wrong. It just means that things change. The kids are different. You’re different. The context is ever-evolving and the exact dynamics maddeningly elusive. So we’ll find something else. You’ll try it another way. I’ll screw up a few times, feel like an idiot, then stumble into pedagogical brilliance once again.

Keep sharing those ideas. Keep going to those trainings – if you wish, I mean. Take in all useful ideas and figure out how to make them your own.

But don’t be afraid to follow your gut and do the illogical or unexpected thing, as long as it’s not unfair or in some way detrimental to your overall goals. And don’t be too proud to borrow from that irritating lady down the hall, or that coach who you won’t admit you feel smugly superior to in the classroom, or even from that weird sub who organized all of the papers and wrote completion grades on them.
It’s a tough enough gig even when it all works – no need to invent it all yourself or go it completely alone. Try stuff. Who knows what might happen?

And if you take a few risks and they turn out particularly well, I’ll even give you a sticker.

I have plenty left, believe me.

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What Misfits Wish Their Teachers Knew (Guest Blogger – Courtney’s Voice)

Courtney's VoiceCourtney’s Voice is the online manifestation of a young lady who has wrestled with more in 18 years than many of us do over a lifetime. Rather than hide it away and use the magic of the interwebs to paint a shinier picture of herself and her world, Courtney lays it all out in brutal honestly – right or wrong, hurting or healing, accepted or attacked.

Sometimes it’s rather poetic, and others… painfully blunt. Often it’s both.

While I don’t claim to fully embrace everything Courtney has to say about every issue, I’ve come to rely on her for an unfiltered perspective on things for which teacher school couldn’t possibly prepare us. I love her transparency and willingness to struggle publicly in order to make it a tiny bit easier for other teens or young adults to confront their demons or accept their differences.

And it does.

I asked Courtney if she’d be willing to contribute a guest blog on the subject of “What I wish my teachers knew about me,” primarily from the point of view of the misfit or misunderstood.  I’m in no way suggesting teachers consciously neglect ANY of our kids or have some secret malice towards those we don’t quite understand. Honestly, the fact that we connect with as many as we do is something of a miracle, given the generational differences and sheer numbers in front of us every day.

But none of us are omniscient, and none immune to the frustrations or failures associated with carrying responsibility for kids we don’t always ‘get’. This is not a lecture, but a reminder of what we so easily miss if not ever-watchful and ‘tuned in’ to our little darlings. It’s as a reminder of our calling.

Thanks, Courtney. I’m glad you’re here.

Hello. You don’t know me, you probably don’t even remember my name, but I’m your student.

I’m that eager beaver over achiever who sits in the front of the class and raises her hand for every question. What you don’t know is that the pressure my parents put on me, and that I put on myself, is starting to break me. When you “talk” to the troubled kids, I often wish it were me you were talking to so I could open up about how much weight is on my shoulders.

I’m that kid who sits in the back, slouching and you don’t think I’m paying attention. Truth is, I am trying really hard but my effort goes unnoticed. Teachers constantly tell me to try harder and it makes me want to give up because I feel like I am not good enough.

I’m the class clown, always loud and making inappropriate jokes. You try your best to hide how you really feel about me, but you don’t realize my jokes are me crying out for attention. Maybe I am unheard at home and enjoy that people listen in class. Or maybe I am hurting and use comedy as a way to cope. It is my way of yelling for help without having to say the words.

Sometimes I think that making others laugh will somehow mute my pain.

I’m that quiet kid who never speaks. You call on me, but barely hear my answers when I give them to you. Sometimes you look at me like you pity me. But I don’t want your pity; I have social anxiety and you put me in a tough place by forcing me to answer in front of the entire class.

I’m that girl that dresses like a guy and prefers a different name from the girly one I was born with. Or I’m that boy that likes other boys even though it means getting beaten up in the locker room because everyone thinks I’m checking them out. Or maybe I’m that girl who just isn’t sure if she likes girls or guys. And I am just starting to come to terms with who I am.

It’s been a long journey of self-discovery, and all the kids around me make me hate myself because they don’t understand. I cower when you call on me because I don’t need any more attention brought to me. They ask me why I’m the way I am, or lecture me about what is “right.” I’m tired of trying to explain that it’s just who I am. I can’t help it, or explain it so they’ll get it.

All I want is for someone to care, and for my feelings to matter, even if they don’t agree with them.

I’m that kid who can’t even fake a smile for the jokes you think are so funny. Every day I walk in looking like I haven’t slept in days, and often I haven’t. Depression has set in with me and I just can’t make the effort.

Every student, no matter how they behave, has a story. We all go through things we wish others would see.

That misfit student you can’t seem to put your finger on? The one that gets on your nerves for being silent, or for being too loud? They are screaming in one way or another for your attention. Sure, they may be cold with you at first when you try to talk to them or you try to get them to have a one-on-one conversation. But don’t walk away. Don’t give up on them.

Honestly, they need someone to try for them, to fight for them, to show them they matter. They want you to know that they are struggling, whether it’s stress over college and the future, or whether they’re worried they won’t have food on their plate tonight.

Some are being bullied so badly all they can think about is how much easier it would be if they were no longer here. Others may be worried about just passing so they can go to the next grade.

I have been all of the students I listed above. Each year I tried a new persona as a way to cry out for help when none of the other ways worked.

Luckily, my 6th grade year, I had a teacher who genuinely noticed how “off” I was. She saw that I was pressuring myself too much while also battling social anxiety. She’s the one who encouraged me to write as a way to cope with my feelings, and to be more vocal. It was obvious to her that I didn’t have a voice, and she thought that writing could be my voice.

She was an English teacher, and after a few assignments, she came to me after class one day. “Your writing is raw and emotional in a way I haven’t seen in a while.”

Simple words, but for me they held so much meaning. To me, it meant that the feelings I poured out into everything I wrote were being heard. After that day, I began to pour myself into my assignments even more. I started showing her poems I had written that were just for me. I opened up to her and talked to her about the serve depression I was facing, all because she took the time to acknowledge my feelings; to acknowledge me.

Years later, I connected with her on Facebook and explained to her just how much of an impact it had, her taking time out of her day to encourage me and comfort me. Little did she know that simply talking to me would lead to that voice being amplified by that writing she had pressed me to continue. There was no way she could have known that it was because of her that I would start writing and speaking up against the injustices I faced and I have watched others face.

Taking just one minute to talk to your students really can change their life.

Sometimes we just need a boost. Every now and then we need a shoulder to lean on and an ear to talk into. Just because we don’t come to you first doesn’t mean we don’t need you. Sometimes we just have our own ways of trying to get your attention. Sometimes we think we don’t want your attention, even when we do.

Don’t think that we don’t care about what you say, even if we do have an attitude. Sometimes we simply can’t admit to needing the help. But your words run deep and ignite things inside of us. Teachers are inspirations. Use that power for good.

I was a misfit. Fitting in just wasn’t something I could do. I was suffering from serve depression and anxiety. But my recovery started with one teacher who took the time to understand me and talk to me, even if she didn’t believe in everything I did or support all the causes I did. Her taking the time to say, in so many words, “Hey I care,” helped me to realize there are people out there who will listen and there is a reason to keep fighting. 

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Can We Talk? (Weird Kids Edition)

Mystique

Hey, you! Out there! My conservative friends – can we talk for a moment?

You lefties go save a whale or something for a minute, will you? No one can speak openly when you’re around, waiting to be offended by something, and I need to cover a few things with the grown-ups. Don’t you have some drugs to legalize or Christians to mock?

Are they gone?

OK, good.

Freaky LiberalsLook, you and I both know things have gotten ridiculous lately. The inmates are running the asylum, and we can’t even say anything about it because the only protected speech these days is nutty liberal speech – am I right?

“Oh poor little Enrique, don’t give him any zeroes! He’s missing an eardrum and has to sell matchsticks to feed his family!” Like hell he does – his smartphone is nicer than mine and he every bit of American History he knows is from Assassin’s Creed III.

“You need to understand their learning styles! We need an anti-bullying assembly! Don’t count anyone late or expect them to wear their ID’s because what if their lives aren’t perfect? You might hurt their feelings!”

I know. I get it. It’s maddening. We pander to every little touchy-feely trend that sweeps through, then wring our hands and wonder why our kids don’t have ‘grit’. 

We already have to accommodate an unprecedented number of newly discovered “learning disabilities,” and NOW we’re supposed to start validating their weird emotional issues as well.

Lizard ManOK, so everyone’s gay now. Fine – live it up. We’ve got girls who are pregnant, boys who think they’re “really” girls, and a few wrecking ball personalities who insist they’re trans-bi-something or other. 

And you’re doing your best to pretend this is all beautiful and normal, but you don’t get it – and you’re damn sure not going to learn new pronouns for them!  

Most of the time we roll with it, but one more demand for a special locker room, and… WTF?

Please know that I hear you. I understand this feeling, this… sense of insanity at the way these ‘laws’ and ‘parents’ and ‘advocates’ join forces for the sole purpose of BLAMING YOU AND ME – the only two ‘normal’ people in the equation! We’re the ones with jobs and matching socks and everything – and somehow WE’RE the problem?!

But I’d like for you to set that aside for a moment, if you can. Please – just for a few minutes. I’m not negating it, but it’s in the way of something. 

Forget whatever moral or emotional issues we have with the outliers or the system that seems to encourage them. Ignore the various weirdos who’ve made things so unpleasant as they fling their issues at you and no one will rein them in because OMG lawsuit. 

Southpark GothsSilence for just a bit your inherent skepticism about just how innate or genetic or legitimate any variety of lifestyles, identities, or issues might be. In fact, feel free to assume that they’re all poor choices and family dysfunction – every last one – from dyslexia to pony play, it’s all just f****** up and unnatural. 

But listen to me.

They’re your kids. 

They’re your students.

They are trusted to your care to educate and inspire as you are able.

Yeah, I know – but they are

Even those not in your class fall under your extended ‘teacher-as-candle-lighter’ job description – including the ones who give you those looks, and who you don’t think much of in return.

The broken ones. The slutty ones. The stupid ones. The annoying ones.

StarfishThey’re our kids. 

They’re supposed to be clueless, you know – that’s why we make them come to school. If they had their act together they could stay home and do this online.

Some of them are hurting so badly they can’t function – not because their lives are any harder than yours or anyone else’s (although some of them are), but because they’re a mess. 

Some of them actually have those horror stories we always endure at the faculty meetings to make us feel bad about ever expecting anyone to do anything. Some of them don’t, but they don’t know that they don’t – they feel like they do

Some of them have it more together than you do. Seriously – it’s weird. 

You’re old – you’ve probably survived your share of actual stress, actual challenges, actual hurts. You know the difference between crippling reality and justkindadontwannathinkaboutit. They often don’t.

Stress MeltdownTo them, it’s all the same – delusional though it sounds, many of them believe and feel deeply that they’re overwhelmed, underloved, misunderstood or maligned, abused or marginalized. That kind of stuff is all SO relative that it’s usually impossible to know when you’re looking at a survivor some black hole of personal trauma or the teenage equivalent of a two-year old who doesn’t get a cookie and thinks their world is over. 

But that’s a distinction without a difference for them experientially, emotionally.

Teenagers are weird, and vulnerable, and subject to change. Add in a little misfittage due to sexuality, race, personal quirks, size, or whatever, and you have quite the fragile critter in your hands. 

With Great PowerSome of them you couldn’t impact if you used a sledgehammer, I get that – but you impact more of them more strongly than you probably signed up for. Sorry. With power comes culpability and all that. James 3, baby.

I’m not asking you to put up with bad behavior – sometimes a little structure and tough love is the best thing for them (not always, but sometimes). I’m not asking you to excuse poor work or lower your classroom expectations against your better judgment.  

I’m suggesting we keep in mind that we’re the adults, and the teachers. We are sometimes – at the risk of being melodramatic – the last, best hope for a little acceptance, stability, or kindness in their lives. 

Misfit ToysYeah, they have a circle of friends – but you really think anyone sharing their Island of Misfit Toys is a good replacement for a relatively stable adult willing to accept and push them a bit? Besides, you have a professional and moral obligation not to be part of the problem, however subtle you think your looks and tone might be.

They’re not, I assure you.

Considering how little responsibility some of them seem to show, you’d be horrified by how many things they strongly feel are their fault – stuff they couldn’t fix, couldn’t stop, couldn’t explain. It’s crippling. 

You have no idea how important your acceptance might be to them. It doesn’t automatically validate everything about them you don’t like. ‘Loved without justification’ – this sounds familiar in your paradigm, yes?

You don’t have to use trendy phrases or special handshakes. You probably don’t need to sample their awful musical tastes or pry into their personal cacophony. But don’t be the one who tries to smile but sighs inside and kinda wishes they’d go away.

They’re not stupid. 

PegsConsider being a reasonable, normal, loving person in whatever style you are for the other kids – the ones you ‘get’. You won’t go to hell for it, I promise. 

The ‘normal’ kids need some better examples of how to deal with those unlike them, and the weirdos could use a teacher – a symbol, however maligned, of the ‘system’ and the ‘norm’ – who insists not that they be someone else, but that they be the best ‘them’ they can be, whatever they decide that is.

You lefties can come back in, now. What? Oh, nothing – just, um… blaming Obama for stuff. Nothing you’d want to hear. 

Coffee?

XFactor

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