Towards More Inclusive Classrooms

Earlier this month, Education Week published an article on how to build a more LGBTQ-inclusive classroom.[1] In the latter 90’s when I became engaged in Safe Schools work, there were no articles like this in mainstream education publications. The world clearly remains unsafe for many LGBTQ youth, especially in the current political climate, but my heart soars to see important conversations taking place that may change teachers and the culture of schools. And the article’s ten tips are valuable and explained well.

The very first should not be news: “Know that your students are ready to discuss LGBTQ issues.” Students have been talking more frankly and openly for a long time, but too often the images and messaging they are exposed to are biased. Schools can make this a learning opportunity. The article also urges educators to “Recognize that sexual orientation and gender identity is multifaceted.” Just as our binary view of sexuality was too limited, we need to expand everyone’s understanding of the complexity of sexual orientation and gender identify instead of trying to fit everyone into neat little boxes. This is a learning opportunity for many teachers as well as students.

The article advises educators to intervene as they should/would with any identity-based attacks, but to do so without discouraging discussion about what terms mean. And number 4 is one of my favorites: “Don’t assume talking about LGBTQ issues has to involve talking about sex.” We don’t make all conversations about straight people about their sex lives; in fact, such conversations are no doubt rare in schools. “In Reading the Rainbow, researcher Caitlin L. Ryan and educator Jill M. Hermann-Wilmarth ask us to ‘shift our understanding of LGBTQ people away from sex and toward who people are, including how they live, whom the love, and with whom they build family and community.’” Age-appropriate discussions can and should provide a fuller perspective.           

I wish someone had shared the fifth point with me early in my personal journey. Learning to “Trust your own positive intentions” is daunting when you see kids at risk. But the article is right when it points out that even an “imperfect advocate is better than a silent bystander.” I know I was imperfect, but my LGBTQ students were patient with me and taught me. And I wish someone had told me then to “Integrate LGBTQ-inclusive books with other books and make them easy to check out anonymously.” I had some of those books on my shelf to signal that I was safe, but they were all grouped together. And I couldn’t “Treat LGBTQ characters in literature as whole people with many interests and identities” – the literature we read lacked those characters. I did make sure to include a fuller perspective with authors when I could, but now I would make sure our literature selections were more inclusive. And when we talked about LGBTQ characters in class, I would now know to “Speak in terms of relationships rather than labels.” The article suggests that when a class is exploring The Color Purple, for example, the teacher might ask students to explore the main character’s relationship with another character instead of just labeling her as a Lesbian.  

And the ninth point is important and far more inclusive in its own right. We must not “rely on LGBTQ students to explain LGBTQ characters to the class” any more than our students of color or students of particular religions should explain their experiences to the class. If we “Build in substantial free response and open discussion time,” students can grow their understanding of roles and experiences without placing that burden on their fellow students. I am thrilled by the specificity of these recommendations and the openness of the discussion in the article. Times have changed. But we must take the issue of inclusiveness even further. Every one of our students has an intersectionality of identities. We really need to become more aware of who our students really are as individuals and what situations they come from so that we can be sure that schools and classrooms are safe and inclusive for every student. Our stude


[1]  https://www.edweek.org/ew/articles/2019/10/11/10-tips-for-building-a-more-lgbtq-inclusive.html

Students Working Real-World Problems for a Real Audience

I’ve just finished the last section of the draft of my teaching memoir, which describes an incredible Problem-Based Learning experience my students had working for a Chicago law firm. It reminds me of how much I still miss my own problem-solving class, but I’m thrilled that I continue to encounter similar efforts occurring today. In Aurora, Illinois, the city partnered with the Illinois Mathematics and Science Academy [IMSA] to offer the “Smart City Youth Design Challenge” for middle and high school students. More than 50 youth will be selected for a one-day challenge at IMSA to design Aurora as the smart city of the future.

The second largest city in Illinois, Aurora has much to offer already. The Fox River runs through a scenic downtown on its way back from recession, and the city is home to the famous and popular art deco Paramount Theater. From a news release from the city: “Poised to become a sandbox for innovation, Aurora is partnering with world-class companies and investing in smart city infrastructure to become a leading-edge urban development hub for the state of Illinois and beyond.”[1]

Working in small groups led by facilitators, participants will create ideas and design for what transportation, education, entertainment, community, energy and other parts of the city could be like in a city of the future. They will then get to pitch their ideas to a real audience at a special event with the city leaders.

“Our youth not only represent our future potential, but they also are a reflection of our present priorities,” said Mayor Richard C. Irvin. “What we do now to empower them can have a direct impact on our city, country and world.”[2]

I believe in learning opportunities like this. I have seen the ideas of students become reality when they are given a chance like this. I only wish these opportunities were commonplace instead of the exception. Every time we challenge our learners to work on a real-world problem for a real audience, we give them a chance to grow their skills and their self-esteem. For 17 semesters, my problem-based learning class did that. I miss it, and I hope that there are many more opportunities like it for students everywhere.


[1] https://kanecountyconnects.com/?s=aurora+challenges+students&submit=Search

[2] https://www.dailyherald.com/submitted/20190919/aurora-offers-programs-to-engage-youths-in-community

Anxiety and College Students

Our two oldest grandkids left for college last week. They both attend a top-tier Ivy on the East Coast. They meet to work out most mornings before heading off to class, and both seem well settled. They remind me of the pleasures and challenges of my own college experience so many decades ago.

So it saddens me to read Frank Bruni’s New York Times review of the new book The Years That Matter Most: How College Makes or Breaks Us  by Paul Tough. The author catalogs “student after student whose route to college and experience there are rocky in the extreme.” [1] He describes how disadvantaged students of lesser means are, both in terms of access and preparation. We have changed the way we think about college in a world that seems to offer less promise to future college graduates. And he asks an important question. “To spur innovation, compete globally and nurture prosperity in a country where factory jobs have ceased to be the answer, we need more, better college graduates. So why aren’t we doing more to create them?”[2] Though Tough describes a few programs to do just that, they are few and far between.

Psychology Today tackles this issue as well.[3] It identifies three factors:

  1. A focus on material success
  2. The rising cost of college
  3. “Delayed adulthood and external locus of control”[4]

Students today face mounting debt for an increasingly unsure financial future, a reasonable source of anxiety. And the advent of helicopter parenting and less independent play for children, allowing them to learn to self-regulate and get along with others [beautifully explained in The Good News About Bad Behavior, discussed in an earlier post], has led to delayed adulthood and fewer coping mechanisms. Dr. Diane Dreher writes, “Unfortunately, today materialistic values, college costs, and controlling parents are impairing this vital developmental period—and may be undermining our students’ ability to flourish.”[5]

I am not so blinded by rose-colored glasses as to remember my college days as anxiety-free. Though I was less worried about my future prospects than many students today, I did struggle with test anxiety and dorm relationship issues. And attending the University of Wisconsin in the 1960s certainly prompted a host of strong emotions about the Vietnam War, civil rights, and feminism. Perhaps one of the biggest differences stemmed from our naïveté… We really believed we could change the world, and that belief feels harder to sustain for now, even for a perennial optimist like me. I don’t think college students today find the same comfort in optimism.

For me college was a chance to meet diverse people and explore different points of view and areas of study. Our granddaughter had a healthy discussion with a male friend whose position on abortion is the opposite of hers – that’s how we find mutual understanding if not agreement. I’m not sure that kind of open discussion about controversial issues is common. It should be. College is a time for exploration and being exposed to diverse ideas. Somehow we need to explore ways to ensure that college provides those opportunities at less emotional cost. That means we need to explore how students and their families pay for college without impossible burdens. We certainly need to help children build emotional coping skills earlier in life by giving them more freedom to learn them. And we need to educate parents about the impact of their helicoptering and to convince parents that their conviction that a certain college or colleges will determine their child’s future is not only unfounded but harmful. We need a paradigm shift if we hope to develop the educated graduates our nation needs.


[1] https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/03/opinion/college-graduates.html?searchResultPosition=1

[2] Ibid.

[3] https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/your-personal-renaissance/201903/why-do-so-many-college-students-have-anxiety-disorders

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid.

A Head Start for All Grade Levels

One of the education blogs I follow is The Principal of Change by George Couros. A Canadian educator and consultant, a former principal, and author of The Innovator’s  Mindset, he writes with passion and compassion. Like me, he believes in the central role of good relationships between learner and teacher. This graphic is his, and it accompanied a blog about how to start the school year with questions like these. He suggests that we each find the questions that would be most meaningful to our group of learners, because asking them and paying attention to the answers will be powerful in building the relationships requisite to learning.

I love this idea, and for several years I did start the school year with a set of questions like these. I asked students for written, signed responses, but I took it a step further. I actually invited them to ask a set of questions of me. I then printed a set of my responses to their questions comm, and I added personal notes responding to their comments individually. They knew they were seen and heard. They knew I was willing to invest time in them. They knew more about me than just the rumors that I was really tough!

I really liked this process, probably more than the students did — or at least more than they would admit! I’m not sure why I gave it up: probably time, since there’s never enough, and the need to experiment with other approaches, since I tried to find a way to begin each course with community-building.

But revisiting this concept reminds me of several points:

  • Teachers need time for community-building, regardless of the strategy they choose, and that time usually pays off in the long run.
  • The inch-deep mile-long lockstep curriculum, if it is unavoidable [sigh], would be well advised to build in time for this.
  • When teachers get to plan together, they are more likely to be able to generate powerful community-building strategies than when they work as lone rangers.

You wouldn’t build a house with a proper foundation; you wouldn’t pave a road without preparing the underpinning. Why do we blunder directly into instruction without laying this footing?

The Case for Service Learning

This quotation really resonates for me right now. Last night I submitted a section of my teaching memoir to my writing group about a class I created for my high school that involved service learning. Using the Problem-Based Learning approach developed in medical schools, my students learned to define a problem and the criteria for an effective solution. That guided their research and helped them to generate and evaluate solutions. They worked problems for the school and the larger community. One year my students even worked for a Chicago law firm on a problem in Toledo, Ohio! Each of these problems became a form of service to others as my students struggled to figure out how to provide the answers their “clients” sought.

For so many of my students, this service became transformational, changing their views about themselves and their place in the world. Some redesigned the gardens for a local historic site, some figured out strategies to promote the Post-Prom celebration to keep students safe after prom, and some helped redesign the eighth-grade orientation. One group not only redesigned a vandalized part of a local trail for the county, but they chose to do the hard physical work of rebuilding. And when vandals struck again, long after they’d received credit in class for their work, they repaired it on their own time. Time after time, I watched students discover the satisfaction of doing something helpful for others. For most of them, this was a new experience. This class showed them the enormous payback for their efforts.

I even saw that reaction among my creative writing students. When they wrote children’s books, we took field trips to local grade schools to read them to children. I’ll never forget my hulking football star sitting cross-legged on the floor of a second-grade classroom, reading his story to a rapt audience. Out of that grew a collaboration with classes from a grade school within walking distance. We visited them once, and they returned the favor. My students partnered with children to write children’s stories, which they sent home with the children. Having a real audience for their work fed their sense of satisfaction, but the gratitude of the children and their teachers, expressed in priceless, hand-drawn thank you notes delivered to the class, gave my students special satisfaction.

Dieter F. Uchtodorf wrote, “As we lose ourselves in the service of others, we discover our own lives and our own happiness.” And from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.: “Live’s most persistent and urgent question is, ‘What are you doing for others?” I watched students embrace those concepts because they had experienced them firsthand.

If I ruled the world [a phrase I used to use with my students], I would mandate service learning for all high school students. Only through experience can they discover the satisfaction and happiness that derive from doing for others. And if our young people understood that, wouldn’t that change our society for the better? As generations of graduates entered the world with a desire to help others, wouldn’t we all benefit?

Best Buddies at Graduation

Last week we had the pleasure and privilege of attending our middle granddaughter’s graduation from a Chicago public magnet high school. The ceremony was held at the Arie Crown Theater at McCormick Place in Chicago because the school auditorium was too small for the class of over 450 and all of their supporters. The event was lovely if long, and we especially enjoyed seeing a certain young woman prance across the stage with grace and confidence to receive her diploma. The class stats were mind-boggling: every student was headed to a four-year college, and they’d logged countless volunteer hours in the community, won numerous academic and athletic championships, and earned $56 million in scholarships! Memorable and impressive, to be sure. That’s part of the package of a top-notch magnet school.

The part we didn’t anticipate happened when the Special Education students walked across the stage to pick up their diplomas and certificates. Part of the mission of Whitney M. Young Magnet School is “To give students with disabilities the same high school opportunities as their non-disabled peers.” In addition to a sizable faculty and staff, the school has a Best Buddies program that pairs regular and special ed students. Some of these students could not make it across the stage without physical support; a couple had trouble following the directions. But each and every one of them received the same response from the audience of parents, friends, and peers: loud cheering and applause with great gusto. This is a truly inclusive community where high-achieving students whose academic success is often a given appreciate and celebrate the success of those who have overcome obstacles to be able to march across that stage. Their genuinely joyful response was uplifting.

When I commented on it, I was assured that those who have attended multiple Whitney Young graduation ceremonies experience that every year. Being part of that kind of school culture, with genuine inclusion, prepares students to work and live with others regardless of their circumstances. It gives me hope for the future.

Learning to Sew: Lessons for the Classroom

As I scramble once again to finish garments for a jury deadline, I find myself reminiscing about my first experience sewing clothing for myself. As a woman of a certain age, I hark back to the binary days of applied arts in junior high: shop for the boys and home economics for the girls. All the girls in my seventh-grade home ec class had to make a skirt using the same pattern. Each skirt had the same pleats, set-in waistband, and side zipper. Our only personal touch was the choice of fabric. I loved the blue and green shadow plaid I picked, but the process and the product failed to inspire me. I wore the skirt a few times and put it away, along with any thoughts of making my own clothing.

Always passionate about fashion, however, I often thought of becoming a clothing designer [one of the dozens of careers I fancied in high school], conveniently ignoring my lack of sewing experience and skills. My parents’ housekeeper made my prom dress from a pattern and fabric I chose, and the summer before my wedding to a “starving” graduate student, I designed an entire trousseau, but she put it together. I would design; others would sew.

That summer my mother presented me with a sewing machine.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“You love clothes and you won’t have any money for them for a long time…” she replied.

“How do I use it?” I asked my mother, knowing full well that she didn’t even know how to sew on a button.

“I don’t know. Figure it out!” She smiled.

Figure it out I did. How hard could it be, I asked myself as I bought Impressionist print voiles and linings and made two wonderful shift dresses that I wore for years.

For a long time I remained self-taught, making all my clothing as well as our window coverings and bedspreads. I gave up sewing when I went back to teaching full-time, but one of the great joys of retirement was the freedom to sew without pressure. Sewing workshops and guidance from the wonderful mentors in my wearable art group elevated my skills. I had collections of garments made from vintage Obis in runway shows, and I even developed a collection called “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil,” whose color palette and use of vines as a motif was one of my favorite efforts. And here I am working on another collection.

I find myself thinking about the factors that changed my desire to learn:

  • A need to know, since sewing my own clothes was the only way I’d be able to have anything new for a long, long time
  • Some early success to encourage me to keep going
  • The chance to personalize my efforts and to use my own creativity
  • Following success and positive feedback, the desire to take it further, to elevate my skills and understanding
  • Excellent teachers/mentors who challenged and supported my efforts

I see these factors as impactful and available in the classroom setting. Relevance exists in our curriculum, and good teachers help students see that and give them a need to know. In my own field of literature, others write about its importance to hand down culture through stories, expand horizons, grow vocabulary, improve writing skills, and teach critical thinking. All these offer value, but I believe the most compelling reason to teach literature is the way it serves as a vehicle for us to explore the human condition and address the “big questions” about life. What does it mean to be a good person? Is man inherently good or evil or both? What are our responsibilities to each other? And on and on… Through our exploration of literature, we can consider these questions and even the answers provided by some of the authors. In those settings, outside of our personal experience, we can develop our own very personal answers.

Other content area teachers can make powerful arguments for relevance in their fields as well. I came to understand grammar and structure in English through my study of French and Latin. I make constant use of math skills whether it’s calculating ingredients or pan sizes or planning yardage for a garment or roughly adding up purchases in my head as I shop to follow my budget. History offers huge lessons that we should be heeding today. If we look at the rise of populist dictators in the past, for example, we have ample warning for what is happening globally and domestically today.  I use my understanding from chemistry to rethink recipes, from botany as I grow orchids and succulents, and from physics as I seek to understand how things work and how to solve problems. The relevance is there – as teachers we need to make it explicit.

We need to provide classroom lessons that allow students to achieve some success before we escalate our expectations of them, scaffolding their lessons. Starting with more accessible demands allows for those early successes, and then teachers can build upon them. Just as I began with a simple shift and have progressed to lined jackets and drafting my own patterns, students need easier tasks to accomplish before they move on.

Well-designed lessons can also encourage creativity and develop opportunities for students to personalize their learning and tap their own creativity. We need to stop thinking about one-size-fits-all instruction and encourage more open-ended experiences. Thanks to my predecessor’s model, my Advanced Placement English students worked in small groups to develop a director’s notebook for King Lear, transposing the play to another time and place, creating costume sketches and scenery, and explaining their choices. What better way to think about the timeless themes in the play and what they mean to us today? Given the chance to be creative in their approach to the play, students developed and articulated a deeper understanding of it.

 As teachers we can and should build ever escalating demands into the curriculum, as long as we’re there to support students if they struggle. Mastery of a give skill should be followed with the next most demanding level of that skill, whether it’s moving from a simple paragraph to an extended essay or narrative, or moving from simple short story analysis to deep reading of longer, more complex literature. We should start with accessible tasks but continually elevate our expectations. We need to be there to help students when they find those tasks increasingly challenging.

This kind of teaching requires a more constructivist classroom, a far cry from the bell-to-bell talking at students that I was trained to do. Problem-based learning helped me make that shift, and the students and I both benefited. But those factors can be embedded even in a traditional classroom approach if we put students’ needs first.

So I’ll return to my sewing machine and my looming jury deadline, grateful that I was able to make that shift before I retired, hopeful that teachers and students today will continue to make shifts like it, too.

Keeping Students Safe

Another school shooting… Yesterday one student was killed and eight injured by gunfire at a Denver-area charter school. We barely react any more. We’re too accepting of this “new normal.”

Education Week reassures us: “With two large-scale school shootings in 2018—17 killed in Parkland, Fla., and 10 killed in Santa Fe, Texas—public fears about school safety and gun violence are high. But the data show that, on the whole, schools are one of the safest places for children.”[1] Is that supposed to be comforting? Schools should be safe places. We should be doing more to keep all schools safe. But we don’t know how.

Just last week Florida’s House of Representatives passed a controversial bill that would permit classroom teachers to carry guns in schools, and the Governor is expected to sign it. How can this be the answer? Even if I had been thoroughly trained to use a gun, my fear of guns and the reality that many of my high school students could have overpowered me and taken it away suggests that teachers toting guns might only add to the problem. We are called to the profession for our love of learning and desire to empower students to experience that. How many teachers are drawn to policing? What would be the impact of gun access on their relationship with students?

Wouldn’t we be better served addressing key issues?

  • What drives shooters in the first place and what we might do about that?
  • What can we do about access to guns by individuals who show signs of being unstable?
  • How can we better identify those individuals?
  • Why would any civilian need bump stocks and semi-automatic rifles? Can we outlaw those?

I had high hopes that the courageous students of Parkland would drive a serious discussion that led to meaningful problem-solving here. I was naïve. But we need to look at the root causes of school shootings and address them directly, instead of settling for dangerous “band-aids” like arming teachers, band-aids that themselves might just lead to more wounds. Our students deserve that. So do our teachers. The time is now.


[1] http://blogs.edweek.org/edweek/District_Dossier/2019/05/eight_students_injured_in_denver_school_shooting.html?cmp=eml-enl-eu-news2-rm&M=58826339&U=1603651&UUID=a2c5403f90bf9a526413b15a7b86a2e2

Conquering the Canopy Walk: a Metaphor

The canopy walk at Sacha Lodge, Ecuador

I don’t do heights. I don’t much like snakes, mosquitoes or heat and humidity either. How then, did I find myself 94 feet above the jungle, walking 940 feet between three strong metal towers on a swaying bridge? By climbing fourteen flights of steps in 98゚heat with 90+% humidity.

A better question might be why, or even how? The answer speaks to educators. Our trip facilitator knows me well and he knew the situation. He’s helped me overcome my limits before, though perhaps never so dramatically. We talked about the canopy walk before I even left the safety of my home. He knew how to help me choose to go.

He said, “You can do it, I know you can, and I’ll help. Just take your time – we won’t rush you. And you won’t want to miss it.” He made me believe in myself enough to overcome deep-seated fears because I believed him. I could, he’d help, I could take my time, and I’d be sorry if I skipped it.

It’s worth noting that when we kayaked the Lake Country of Italy with him two years earlier and I chose not to take a clumsy funicular up to a frightening height, he didn’t push me. Instead we had a wonderful paddle. So if he said this wasn’t to be missed, I wouldn’t miss it.

And I had additional support to see me through. Our kayaking buddy Ada, with whom we’d taken two other trips, had seen my bypass the funicular and knew I wanted to do this terrifying climb. She promised to walk with me. I would not face this scary challenge alone.

So I climbed. At halfway up I questioned my sanity, but I kept going. When we finally reached the top of the first tower, the view of the jungle’s canopy was breathtaking. The drop to the ground below looked gentler than it must have been, and I finally caught my breath. Dripping in sweat, cursing the heat and humidity, I did take the time to do a 360゚view. My husband had patiently climbed right behind me, but at the top I lost him to his camera. While he clicked away, taking pictures I knew we’d both be glad to have, I headed out on the walkway toward the middle tower, determined to complete the walk before I lost my nerve.

The first half felt fairly stable, and I found myself looking ahead and around rather than down. This isn’t so bad, I thought to myself. I stopped briefly at the middle tower, winded and dripping with sweat. I need to finish this, I thought, and I can do it.

Sadly the second 450’ swayed far more. Whimpering, I practiced self-talk. I wanted to quit but knew that the closest path to the safety of the ground was straight ahead. Happily my friend Ada walked back to join me. I kept my eyes on the back of her neck and hung on to the coarse rope cable to gain an illusion of control. My legs were trembling when we reached the far tower, but I had done it – I had completed the dreaded canopy walk and was alive to tell about it!

Now I just had to make my way down 14 more flights of stairs. Since everyone else was captivated by the view, I worked my way down slowly. I wanted to kiss the ground when I reached it, as I had after my son talked me into riding Big Thunder Mountain in Disneyland, but the mud seemed unappealing. Finally the others  joined me and we hiked back to the lodge though the jungle. Dehydration and fatigue sapped my energy, yet I was triumphant! I had just done something I’d been sure I couldn’t do. I could have been faster, more graceful, less noisy in my whimpering, but I’d done it nonetheless. And now, when I face new challenges, I will be a bit more confident because of this triumph.

Next month I’m going to model a semi-transparent dress in a runway show. I’ve had garments I’ve designed on the runway before, but I’ve never had to model them myself, and this garment is particularly problematic.  But I will remind myself that I completed the canopy walk, and that will see me through.

Why write about this in a teaching blog? Because sometimes our students feel as apprehensive as I did. We may not understand why, but we need to recognize their fears and help them conquer those fears. Those who don’t share my acrophobia may never really understand how hard this walk was for me, but they can help me succeed by acknowledging my true feelings and showing me how to overcome them. We need to tell our students, “You can do this. I’ll help you. Take your time. You’ll be glad you did.”

And in collaborative, constructivist classrooms, we need to encourage their classmates to support them the way Ada supported me. I am reminded of a presentation in our American Lit class by a student who struggled with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. When he stood up to speak, he started biting his arm. Quietly the other members of his group stood up, surrounded him, and nodded encouragingly. He was able to present his part of their material. With their support, he triumphed. Far less dramatic situations happen in classrooms every day, and teachers and classmates can make a difference. Students who overcome their fears and do something they thought they couldn’t become empowered to tackle additional challenges. It’s up to us teachers to help that happen.

More “Good News about Bad Behavior”

We recently had the opportunity to hear Katherine Reynolds Lewis, the author of The Good News about Bad Behavior, speak in person. I’d raved about her book in an earlier blog post, but I need to rave about her once again. She addressed the refrain from my friends still in the classroom that students just are different, and she proposed meaningful solutions.

Much of her presentation focused on parenting, but the principles she espoused speak to educators as well. Ms. Lewis asserts that kids are fundamentally different, so we need whole different sets of tools in our toolbox. Kids’ behavior is often problematic because we have a “crisis of self-regulation in kids today.” According to a National Institute for Mental Health longitudinal study, 1 in 2 will have a behavioral disorder or substance addiction by 18. Nearly a third have an anxiety diagnosis. 19% have behavioral disorders like ADHD or Oppositional Defiance Disorder. 14% have a mood disorder and 11 % substance abuse problem. Some of these issues overlap. According to the Center for Disease Control, in the last 10 years, the suicide rate for children 10-14 has doubled, and it has gone up 41% for kids 15-19. These stats are frightening and explain disruptive behaviors in the classroom.

Three big changes in society that have helped cause this shift:

  1. Disappearance of childhood play [which inevitably leads to self-regulation]
  2. Growth of social media and technology – turns our focus externally, which is strongly correlated with depression
  3. “Childhood has become about performance and achievement and not about contribution.” But contribution gives people a sense of where they belong and how they matter.

All that felt very depressing when she shared it at a Glenbard Parent Series talk in February. But it helps explain why a lot of the tools we’re used to may not work and may even be counterproductive. Neuroscience tells us that the carrot-and-stick approach does not work, for example. I was profoundly excited about her talk, though, because she offered research-based tools that do work.  

Her three keys to help kids learn to self-regulate are:

  1. Connection between the adult and child
  2. Communication with kids about their behavior to build their self-regulatory ability: problem-solving, critical thinking, social and emotional management
  3. Capability-building

If we build connections with kids, we can help them self-regulate. Our physical presence can help kids calm down and eliminate symptoms of anxiety. A calm physical touch also can help kids get back into self-regulation. In the classroom [where touching has its own risks], we might give young children something to hug, offer just a light touch on the shoulder to older students. When we empathize and kids feel understood, they can calm down and self-regulate. Our modeling good self-regulation in our behavior helps, too.

How we communicate also matters. Reynolds urges that we “shift from goal of getting them to do what we want to getting them to do what’s needed in the situation to build those skills that will help them thrive in that moment and in life generally.” For example, when a student is distraught, we need to send the message that strong emotions are okay instead of dismissing or ignoring them. Then the student is more able to be effective in addressing the issue. We can encourage students about what they’re doing and the effort they’re putting in. We can reframe language to state the same issue positively; for example, she suggests that instead of telling kids at a swimming pool not to run, ask them to walk. We might give information about what we see instead of telling our students what to do. She suggested that a parent might say, “I see a Lego model on the floor right where people need to walk” because the kid will then realize it needs to be moved. We can ask more questions and be less directive. We can help students learn to plan and think ahead: executive function skills that allow our kids to make plans and to organize big projects are a stronger predictor of success in life than IQ, so we should help them anticipate what they need to do. When things go wrong, we should ask them to come up with plan. Reynolds insists that it’s important to give kids chances to rise to responsibility, a hallmark of a student-centered constructivist classroom. We need to allow kids to fail and get back up again. We need to teach them to recognize their own progress on a continuum.

Lewis talked about Carol Dweck’s work on the growth mindset: “In a growth mindset, people believe that their most basic abilities can be developed through dedication and hard work —brains and talent are just the starting point. This view creates a love of learning and a resilience that is essential for great accomplishment.”[1] When we praise our kids for outcome and focus on the results of their actions, they can develop a fixed mindset [on how smart they are, for instance]. But if we focus on their progress, they can see themselves as having potential and being more capable.

Reynolds agrees that kids still need to have consequences, but we want them to learn from those consequences. She suggests four tests to be sure that consequences are learning opportunities:

  • Related to the child’s actions
  • Reasonable in scope
  • Respectful of the child and us
  • Revealed in advance

She also offers meaningful steps for negotiating agreements:

  • Share concern neutrally, not in blaming way
  • Invite kids’ perspective
  • Invite some solutions
  • Agree on a solution both of you think is going to work and the consequences if it doesn’t
  • Let the agreement play out

So my apologies to my colleagues for not having been more sympathetic and agreeable when their descriptions of student behavior sounded like whining to me. The bad news is that kids really have changed in ways that make it harder for them and for their parents and teachers. As adults, we need to change how we help them address their behavior. But the good news is that Katherine Reynolds Lewis offers concrete suggestions about how to do that.

P.S. The book goes into far more detail – definitely worth reading!


[1] Dweck, 2015