When I was a kid in elementary school, I talked during class. A lot. I must have thought all those Ns on my report card just stood for Nika. Teachers wrote my name on the board with multiple checks everyday. I never recall a single conversation with any teacher about my citizenship grade. The only conversation came from my parents when they saw that disappointing N on my report card. I would shrug, “I like to talk.”
One time I was absent, and the other kids told me later that my math teacher wrote my name on the board anyway. She was working a problem with her back to the class. When she heard kids talking she said, “Niiiikaaaa …that’s a mark!” and without turning around, she wrote my name. It makes me laugh; I’m sure I deserved it for all the days I didn’t get caught talking.
Marks, checks, names on the board, signatures in the book: None of that archaic junk works, and I am living proof. Getting my name on the board only made me want to talk more. So much so that now I make a living by talking. I have a full-time talking job, and a part-time talking job.
But it’s a new day and age in the classroom! Yea-double-yea for my Pinterest-inspired behavior management system. If you are not currently using this type of chart in your K-5 classroom, you still have five marking periods to enjoy it. Don’t waste another expo pen endlessly writing names on the board! Don’t waste another minute trying to explain to parents how you arrived at a citizenship grade! This works better than any measure I have ever used. If I had to, I could even think of a way to adapt it into a mature feedback system for secondary grades.
How it works:
- The top two squares are E+ and E (Excellent), the middle two are S+ and S (Satisfactory), the bottom two are N+ and N (Needs Improvement).
- Everyone walks into the classroom everyday at S+.
- When I see or hear behavior I appreciate, I say, “Please step up!” and the student moves his clothespin up a square.
- When I see or hear behavior that needs correction, I say, “Please step down,” and the student moves his clothespin down a square.
- In the last two minutes of the class period, the student records the final location of his clothespin on this data chart, which they keep with them at all times
- On the last day of the marking period, I have one-minute individual conference about the choices they have made. We agree together on a citizenship grade for the report card.
Why it works:
- Kids love feedback. This system is dynamic, and children will work hard to see their clothespins move in the right direction. One quiet student who usually receives Es, went home and happily told her mother, “I am noticed now.” Constant feedback from her teachers helps her to gauge her contribution to a class instead of just staying “low maintenance” for the teacher.
- Choices are not fatal. Students may behave inappropriately, but then they have opportunities to improve before class is dismissed. I have seen kids turn atrocious behavior around so completely, that by the end of the class, I am complimenting them on their self-correction and recovery.
- There are no favorites. To me, “just keeping your mouth shut” does not mean you deserve an E in citizenship. Some kids are naturally quiet and never disrupt … but they also rarely participate actively in discussions. Just because they are being quiet does not mean they are paying attention. Daydreamers are very quiet, in fact. With this system, there are no “good kids” who automatically get an E. Everybody has to work for an E by getting started on the warm-up immediately, staying on task and focused, participating in class discussions, contributing significantly to a group, etc. Being a good citizen in real life is not defined by being quiet. Sometimes it requires speaking up. Often, schools default to an erroneous lesson through citizenship grades.
Here is my dearest story about this chart:
While we were working noisily on group work, I saw a student walk over and move his clothespin down two squares without being asked. I called him over and asked why he had moved himself down.
“I just told an inappropriate joke,” he said with tears in his eyes, “I don’t want to tell you what it was; it was bad. As soon as I told it, I knew I shouldn’t have done it. I figured if I corrected myself right after the joke this time, maybe I will remember to correct myself before I tell a bad joke, next time.”
Talking a lot is not bad. Being loud is not bad. Being hyperactive is not bad. There are many jobs in this world that only highly energetic, loud talkers will be able to do for us. When a child’s giftedness toward a profession emerges in school and is immediately labelled as poor behavior, we are not helping them develop their life skills. Conversely, when we reward inactive silence, I fear the message we send.
Teachers, as you work double-time to cultivate the strengths hidden inside your disruptive students, smile inwardly: Your Heavy Talker will probably grow up to be a teacher and will finally get it when she has a student just like herself.