“Back in school, you ever get busted for trying to walk and have some administrator tell you, ‘Son, you can shirk your obligations and try to be different from your peers, but the responsibility of your future is gonna find you!’”
These are the opening lyrics to Operation Ivy’s song, “Gonna Find You.” As the seminal punk band so adequately expressed for millions of teens across the country, no one represents the concept of authority better than their teachers and administrators. As teens grow into young adults, their desire to assert their own authority grows.
As a self-professed “punk” myself, I don’t believe authority should be followed blindly. In fact, in my practice as an educator who teaches U.S. history in an urban St. Louis school, I often point out to students that the most significant changes in America have come from people standing up to authority. From the American Revolution to the Civil Rights Movement and Vietnam War protests, much of the progress our country has made comes from punks pushing against authority.
As much as the sentiment of students standing up to the powers that be warms my punk rock heart, it’s hard to balance my beliefs in authority with the need to always be the leader in control at the front of the classroom. Therein lies a paradox I have struggled with in my career: How can I continue to teach students that questioning authority is not only okay, but sometimes necessary, while maintaining a position of authority myself?
Gotta Know the Rules
Anyone who has ever taught professionally knows that classroom management is one of the most important aspects of creating a good learning environment and foundational to instructional practice. In most classrooms, the management boils down to, “I’m the teacher, so I’m in charge.” In most situations, this style of authority could be described as authoritarian. Instead of assuming this was the case for my classroom, I did what any unsure teacher does and asked my students directly.
Earlier this year, I administered a survey to my students, asking them to evaluate my classroom management skills and provide feedback on our classroom. After reviewing the results, I was shocked to find out that many of my students felt I was too authoritative when it came to classroom rules and behavior management.
Naturally, this bummed me out. I’m the fun teacher! I play video games! But once I got over myself, I started to look at how I interact with my students, our class rules and how those compare with other practices around the school. I asked myself, which of my rules are actually designed to help the students, and which are just there because I want them to be? Do my students feel like they have a sense of control and freedom in my class, or are they simply following my rules in order to get by?
Soon, I began to realize that authority and rules in a classroom are misunderstood as the same thing. The rules in my room — raise your hand before you speak, stay in your seat, respect others’ opinions and values — are there to make my class environment safe and open for all of my students to discuss and debate freely. They are for everyone. Authority, on the other hand, is when I decide what lessons to assign to students, or when they must read silently to themselves or aloud to the class. I have control over their actions and learning. Of course, it’s easier to be in control when your role as a teacher puts you in a position of authority. When this happens, it’s also important to remember the moments when you didn’t have control to gain a deeper understanding of your why.
The Moment I Came Around
As I reflected on the level of choice I give to students, and the degree of authority I have over them, I recalled my own schooling during fifth grade in Ms. Martin’s class. She was far and away the coolest teacher a student could have, but after hearing the punk masterpiece “Dookie” by Green Day and watching way too much MTV, I decided I wasn’t gonna have any of it.
One day, Ms. Martin began explaining a concept to the class when I raised my hand and questioned, “Why do we have to learn this? This stuff doesn’t matter!” Yeah, I was a real rebel.
Of course, when she sternly told me to get out of the room and go sit in the hall, I broke down sobbing, because I wasn’t really a rebel, after all. This moment has stuck with me ever since. Why can’t the teachers just tell the students why? To me, the question students are really asking is, “Who made this decision for me about what and when I learn?” Of course, as a teacher, I know now that some of the answer lies in state standards and curriculum, but there is still room for choice and understanding in what our students learn and how they demonstrate that learning.
After my experimental survey, I shared this story with my students, and once they finished laughing at the image of little Mr. Clark crying and apologizing for being a bad kid, we returned to the question of why. I asked my students, “Do you understand why you learn what you learn in school?” Some said yes, or gave textbook answers such as, “So we can be successful in high school,” or “to grow our brains.” But many, when pushed, said no. They didn’t understand why or who chose what they learned, and yes, they resented that authority over their lives. Some wanted to spend more time in science than in my class and felt like being forced to learn about history was a waste of time. Others said they wish we could spend more time learning about specific topics and periods in history. Ultimately, we all agreed that the more the students understood why they were learning and had some say in it, the less they felt like some authority was being forced upon them.
So, if I wanted to cede some authority to my students and encourage them to push back, I figured the best place I can do this is in the type of work and choice I give students.
Freedom of Choice
Giving students a choice in how they present their understanding of the standards and concepts felt like an easy and effective way to cede some authority back to students. This goes further than the saying “some kids are good testers and some aren’t.” When it comes to the subject of history, the standard is not something easily defined as a right or wrong, multiple-choice question, and while I’ve tried many times, there is no way of asking students to “Analyse the perspectives of diverse individuals and groups to explain the extent of their support of the Civil War” into a few test questions or a worksheet.
By giving my students choices on how to show this understanding, I am allowing them to have some control over their learning and autonomy. For this example, some students drew political cartoons showing their understanding of the differing sides of the conflict. Some students created Canva presentations and Google Slides. Some students opted for a good old-fashioned test. When I asked students why they chose their given medium to demonstrate their mastery of the concept, they overwhelmingly expressed that it was the best way to communicate what was in their minds. At the end, they all seemed much more engaged and excited about the work they were producing.
Too often, our desire for authority in a classroom has led to a dictatorial idea that my way is the best way, even in teachers like myself who have nothing but the best intentions for students. We often forget that authority can mean safety, guidance and service just as much as it can mean judgment, rules and consequences. In telling my students, “I trust you,” I’m leaning into a version of authority that respects those I have authority over and uses only as much power as necessary, leaving the rest to them.
While I often still fail at this, telling a student, “Dude, just sit where I tell you!” or “This is what we are doing today guys, just go with it!”, I find myself constantly thinking about how I can give more freedom of choice to my students and encourage them to never settle for “because I said so” as a response to their why. As punk legend and former Black Flag singer Henry Rollins once said, “Questioning anything and everything, to me, is punk rock.”
This post is exclusively published on eduexpertisehub.com
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