Student Gender, Reputation, Self-Esteem

This week’s article summary is Teacher View Playful Boys More Negatively Than Playful Girls.

I think that most teachers, even though we try to be fair and equitable, would admit to treating girls and boys differently in class.

As you will see in the article below, for those boys who are deemed ‘class clowns’ in early elementary school, the way teachers talk to them may have long-term negative effects in terms of social standing and self-esteem as early as third grade.

While this is one limited study, it did give me pause about how much influence teachers have over students in our words and actions.

We all try to be fair in our treatment of our students but as I discussed in a previous article summary on helping girls resist the urge to be perfectionists, we as teachers fall prey to societal stereotypes.

And one stereotype is the overly rambunctious boy who fights against class rules and negatively influences the rest of the class.

In our teaching careers, we all most likely have had a few kids--most likely boys—who were the bane of our school year. We tried all sorts of strategies, yet we just couldn’t seem to reach them and perhaps eventually had to resort to stricter discipline, which more than likely had the reverse effect, resulting in a vicious circle power struggle to the benefit of no one.

After reading the article, I wonder if in the interest of short-term expedience (a calmer class), I may have done longer-term harm to some boys’ self-confidence and social standing.

The article doesn’t pose any solutions to this classroom problem. Perhaps trying  the various tools/strategies of Positive Discipline or the Intervention Model we discussed at our last in-service day might help.

Regardless the article definitely raised my awareness of being more attuned to my tendency to be shorter and get frustrated more quickly with boy class clowns than girl class clowns.

Joe

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Teachers are less tolerant of playful boys than playful girls, according to a new study, and this may result in boys ending up with lower self-esteem. The findings suggest that male class clowns are set up to be sad clowns by adolescence, whereas girls who just want to have fun are more or less tolerated.

Children regularly observe playful boys, or ‘class clowns’, being treated negatively by their teachers, and over time come to change their view of them as desirable playmates in first and second grades to being seen as boys who should be avoided or spurned in third grade.

Researchers have wondered for some time why boys underperform in elementary school. Some experts suspect it’s because the classroom environment rewards those who can sit patiently and express themselves efficiently—two areas in which the average young girl puts the average young boy to shame. Other studies indicate that boys weather a disproportionate amount of discipline and blame in the classroom, perhaps exacerbated by the fact that elementary school teachers are predominantly women.

To get more information about potential biases against boys, the recent followed kindergarten-aged children for three years. At the end of each academic year, the kids were assessed by their teachers, peers, and themselves about how playful, disruptive, and socially competent they were. Their social status was ranked and, if they were considered class clowns, this was noted. The results suggest that teachers draw sharp distinctions between playful and studious boys, but did not isolate playful girls in the same way. This impacted the social standing of the more playful boys. First grade teachers considered male class clowns “rebellious, intrusive, and socially inept”, but their peers loved them. By the time kids got to the third grade, however, teachers’ verbal reprimands had struck home—their peers now considered them undesirable playmates. No similar effect existed among girls.

Teachers view class clowns as problematic and strive to stifle or extinguish their playfulness. And it works. Male class clowns had lower self-perceptions by third grade.

The findings are not meant to imply that young girls don’t face unique challenges related to gender and cultural perceptions but, when it comes to having fun in the classroom, the deck appears to be stacked against boys. This may explain why boys struggle more than girls in school and could also explain why boys often have more serious behavioral problems even as they mature into men.

Teaching the Rebel

This week’s article summary is The Case for the Rebel.

One of the reasons I became a teacher was because I enjoyed school when I was a student.

I liked being in class and listening to the teacher. I liked all aspects of school from academics to art to PE to lunch and recess. I was a solid student and an all-around good kid--not a goody-goody teacher’s pet but still a rule follower, and certainly not a rebel.

But I knew who the rebel students were in my class. While I was always compliant to school norms, the rebels challenged convention in both small and big ways. I dutifully completed my homework and always walked in a straight line, but the rebels laughed off homework and ambled freely. I paid attention to classroom instructions while the rebels lived in their own world.  I never saw the inside of the principal’s office, yet the rebels were frequent visitors. For a compliant kid like me, there was definitely something admirable and individualistic about them. My friends and I wanted and needed positive affirmations from and assurances of our teachers, but the rebels didn’t.

The article below is a reminder to us as teachers to never forget that we have rebels in our classroom and that they too need love, support, and most importantly attention. As Positive Discipline stresses, everyone wants and needs to fit in and to be known and appreciated—being a member of a group comes more naturally to some than others.

For some kids, the narrow confines of what qualifies as a being a good student (which often means being compliant) is impossible.

So while we as teachers prefer our student rule followers in class, let’s also appreciate, celebrate, embrace, and try to understand the rebels and what their needs are!

Joe

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It tends to be common knowledge that Albert Einstein was bad at school, but less known is that he was also bad in school. He not only received failing grades, but he also had a bad attitude. He sat in the back of the class smirking at the teacher; he was disrespectful and disruptive; he questioned everything; and, when he was faced with the ultimatum to straighten up or drop out, he dropped out. That’s right: Albert Einstein was a dropout. And yet, he grew up to become one of the greatest thinkers in human history.

One can write off Einstein’s accomplishments as an exception to the rule; they can reason that his behavior was actually a symptom of being so smart that school didn’t challenge him, which is probably somewhat true. But what if what made Einstein a change agent was his rebellious nature rather than his intelligence? After all, the world is full of brilliant people who accomplish very little compared to Einstein.

I have a student like this in my class right now. He is a brilliant creative writer. I give him highly intellectual books, articles, and authors to read on his own because he often asks me highly intellectual questions that I can’t quite answer, but for which I know he will find answers in those texts.

He is failing two classes but stays up all night long to write short stories. He rolls his eyes at anything he deems as busy work, comes into class and intentionally sits with his back to me, and continues to chat with friends long after I have started the lesson. He barely completes most assignments, if at all, and I have to constantly nag him to focus and stop distracting other students.

He is, in short, a huge pain. But when his parent came in to have a conference with me last fall, I found myself looking a worried adult in the eye and telling him what I believe to be the truth: His son is going to be okay. In fact, I told him that his son will someday stand out from the others; he will find a career he loves because he is passionate, intense, brilliant, and fiercely independent. Even though this student is a pain to teach, he is someone I will likely respect when he matures into an adult.

Throughout my years as an educator, the colleagues I admire the most tend to fit the same description. My favorite colleagues ask tough questions, are impatient with the status quo, and often intentionally break rules if it means a better education for the students in their classrooms. What tends to be expected of students in schools is the opposite of what many people admire in adults. And yet, students who raise their hands, sit quietly, do their work without question, and generally have figured out how to “do school” are the ones who tend to benefit most from the system and the ones who seem to have the strongest “work ethic” in the classroom. In a study of teacher expectations and perceptions on student behavior, most teachers noted that self-control and cooperation were the most important indicators of school success.

There is much focus on the importance of schools developing in student “soft skills” for eventual professional success as adults. These are admirable traits. Research shows that “conscientious” and “agreeable” people are often more successful in the workplace. But maybe the problem is with the various definitions of success, rather than with individuals who do not fit the profile of an agreeable worker. After dropping out of school, many would have believed Einstein to be unsuccessful, but I doubt many people would say that now.

In his book Originals, Adam Grant gives example after example of original thinkers like Einstein who changed the world by rebelling against the status quo. He notes that procrastination, consistent tardiness, and a tendency to upset authority figures are actually important characteristics for original thinkers.

A few years ago, I taught a student who, like the aforementioned one I currently teach, was awful in class. He was rude, disrespectful, disengaged, and spent every ounce of his energy trying to entertain his peers regardless of the frustration it caused me as the teacher. He didn’t care about getting into trouble—detentions, suspensions, and daily visits to the principal’s office were utterly ineffective in managing his behavior.

This former student recently found me on social media and wrote to explain that he had matured after high school, enrolled in college, and started acting in the plays produced by his college’s drama department. He got his degree and now manages a drama camp for teens. This didn’t surprise me: As the drama director back then, I saw a difference in him on stage versus sitting at a desk. He even had some pretty good days in class if we did skits or readers’ theater. He wasn’t a bad kid; he was a performer.

Now I see that he wasn’t the problem at all—rather, it was the traditional expectations of school behavior and subsequent definition of success. The influence that traditional thinking had on me as an educator affected how I viewed him.

Granted, teaching is difficult enough without expecting individual teachers to encourage defiant and difficult behavior in the hopes that it will lead to children who grow into original thinkers as adults, but there are ways for teachers to encourage and set boundaries for such behavior.

Teachers can create strengths-focused classrooms that help students like the class clowns and the rebels see the value in their gifts and reframe them positively, rather than seeking negative attention. As with my former student, this isn’t always possible on a day-to-day basis, but because I found ways to integrate dramatic arts into my lessons and offer him opportunities to perform inside and outside the classroom, I do think I was able to guide him to a positive outlet for his natural talents and instincts.

There is no denying that rebels can be dangerous, both inside and outside the classroom. There is inherently a destructive nature to rebellion. A disruptive student can utterly destroy a positive learning environment for him/herself, the other students, and the teacher. And embracing dangerous rebels can also have negative impacts elsewhere. Yet, his continued brand as a rebel outsider bringing in his friends does gain support from many. It occurs to me that by providing opportunities for young rebels to find positive outlets for rebellion as my current student has with writing and my former one did with drama, they could become assets to society’s institutions, rather than a liability.

Even though the class clown, the snarky kid in the back, and the D-student may create problems for teachers and the school, they often have skills that can’t always be taught. They tend to be courageous, outspoken, persistent, and creative people—kids who may not make great students or become the employees with exemplary social skills, but who instead become the kind of people who lead and forge new paths for others. As a teacher and a parent, I want to help create those kind of people. I want to help mold people who don’t just learn to show up on time, but bring something positive and original to the table when they get there.

It's Okay to Be a Follower

This week’s article summary is Not Leadership Material? Good. The World Need Followers.

To me, kids always seem to be assessed on whether they’re leaders or have leadership abilities and skills. Most kids are encouraged to lead in most activities be it in the classroom, at recess, on the sports field, at home with friends. Being a leader is generally viewed as a positive.

But as we all know, we all can’t be leaders in all situations.

Teachers and parents need to help kids learn and understand that there are times to lead and times to follow others.

Much of what kids see in the media and even in what they read and study at school is about being a leader, yet we adults spend more time being the one who is following than the one being a leader. 

While it’s fine to aspire to lead, our students also need to see the positives of being a follower too!

Joe

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In 1934, a young woman named Sara Pollard applied to Vassar College. In those days, parents were asked to fill out a questionnaire, and Sara’s father described her, truthfully, as “more a follower type than a leader.” The school accepted Sara, explaining that it had enough leaders.

It’s hard to imagine this happening today.

Today we prize leadership skills above all, and nowhere more than in college admissions.

Harvard’s application informs students that its mission is “to educate our students to be citizens and citizen-leaders for society.” Yale’s website advises applicants that it seeks “the leaders of their generation”; even Wesleyan, known for its artistic culture, was found by one study to evaluate applicants based on leadership potential.

If college admissions offices show us whom and what we value, then we seem to think that the ideal society is composed of Type A’s. It’s part of the American DNA to celebrate those who rise above the crowd.

So now we have high school students vying to be president of as many clubs as they can.

Yet a well-functioning student body — not to mention polity — also needs followers. It needs team players. And it needs those who go their own way.

It needs leaders who are called to service rather than to status.

Many students I’ve spoken with read “leadership skills” as a code for authority and dominance and define leaders as those who “can order other people around.”

The pressure to lead now defines and constricts our children’s adolescence. One young woman told me about her childhood as a happy and enthusiastic reader, student and cellist — until freshman year of high school, when “college applications loomed on the horizon, and suddenly, my every activity was held up against the holy grail of ‘leadership,’ ” she recalled. “And everyone knew,” she added, “that it was not the smart people, not the creative people, not the thoughtful people or decent human beings that scored the application letters and the scholarships, but the leaders. It seemed no activity or accomplishment meant squat unless it was somehow connected to leadership.”

This young woman tried to overhaul her personality so she would be selected for a prestigious leadership role as a “freshman mentor.” She made the cut, but was later kicked out of the program because she wasn’t outgoing enough. At the time, she was devastated. But it turned out that she’d been set free to discover her true calling, science.

Our elite schools overemphasize leadership partly because they’re preparing students for the corporate world, and they assume that this is what businesses need.

But a discipline in organizational psychology, called “followership,” is gaining in popularity. A Harvard Business Review article listed the qualities of a good follower, including being committed to “a purpose, principle or person outside themselves” and being “courageous, honest and credible.” It’s an idea that the military has long taught.

Recently, other business thinkers have taken up this mantle. Some focus on the “romance of leadership” theory, which causes us to inaccurately attribute all of an organization’s success and failure to its leader, ignoring its legions of followers. 

We also rely as a society, much more deeply than we realize, on the soloists who forge their own paths. We see those figures in all kinds of pursuits: in the sciences; in sports like tennis, track and figure skating; and in the arts. Art and science are about many things that make life worth living, but they are not, at their core, about leadership. 

Perhaps the biggest disservice done by the outsize glorification of “leadership skills” is to the practice of leadership itself — it hollows it out, it empties it of meaning. It attracts those who are motivated by the spotlight rather than by the ideas and people they serve. It teaches students to be a leader for the sake of being in charge, rather than in the name of a cause or idea they care about deeply. The difference between the two states of mind is profound.

If this seems idealistic, consider the status quo: students jockeying for leadership positions as résumé padders.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

What if we said to college applicants that the qualities we’re looking for are not leadership skills, but excellence, passion and a desire to contribute beyond the self? This framework would encompass exceptional team captains and class presidents. But it wouldn’t make leadership the be-all and end-all.

What if we said to our would-be leaders, “Take this role only if you care desperately about the issue at hand”?

And what if we were honest with ourselves about what we value? If we’re looking for the students and citizens most likely to attain wealth and power, let’s admit it. Then we can have a frank debate about whether that is a good idea.

But if instead we seek a society of caring, creative and committed people, and leaders who feel called to service rather than to stature, then we need to do a better job of making that clear.