Results For "Month: September 2006"

One of the young men I work with was doing afternoon chores today, and he asked me to show him how to tie up a garbage bag. When I finished, I asked, “Would you like me to help and take the trash out for you?”

“If you would, please.”

Such a simple response — something most of us might not pay much attention to. But when working with kids who sometimes demonstrate that, through no fault of their own, they have somewhat limited social skills, I notice.

Indeed, it’s my job, among other things, to notice.

I pointed out that I felt he’d earned 2,000 points for that interaction. He pulled out his point card and jotted them down, and after I signed it, I asked, “Do you know what you did to earn those points?”

He explained that he’d been polite.

“Correct.” I asked, “Do you know why it’s important to accept help politely like that?”

“Not really.”

Indeed, why? I paused for a moment, thinking about it. Why is it better to say, “If you would, please” than respond, “Yeah,” or “If you want to,” or any number of less-than-perfect formulations. It’s one of those things many of us parse without thinking, a response we expect to hear.

I thought for a moment, but not long. To be honest, I’m beginning to develop a skill for this explaining of social conventions.

“Because the next time you need help, I’ll be more likely to offer it. If you’d just said, ‘Yeah, if you want,’ I probably wouldn’t have felt that you really appreciated my help. But saying it like you did showed me that you really appreciated it, and so I’ll be more likely to offer to help you the next time I see you working on something.” Not a bad reason.
He accepted it and moved on.

The question is, will he remember it next time?

I’m starting to be optimistic enough about my job to think it’s quite possible. Dare I say, likely?

In science class, we’re learning about the atomic world and what makes different elements different. To their surprise, it’s just the number of protons. Some are somewhat interested, but we’re not yet to the interest level that produces questions like, “You mean mercury could turn into into gold if we just took away one proton and one electron.”

What I wouldn’t give for a question like that. But we’re getting there.

One thing I’ve done to try to keep interest levels up is to make as many lessons hands-on as possible. Thus, last Friday we put all our new knowledge to work by making clay models of atoms. Each student chose an element (from a list I provided — I didn’t want anyone coming up with protactinium, for example) and then devised a way to make a model. Forgetting about the number of neutrons, we made semi-anatomically-correct models of sodium, oxygen, neon, and others. And at the end of the lesson, I announced there would be a quiz Monday.

The young men I work with probably have made very few A’s in their lives. This is not because of a lack of ability or intelligence, but the fact that their behavior problems get in the way of learning. And so, to this point, the grades have been relatively low as I learn how to tweak my lessons and quizzes and homework assignments just so — they must be instructive, vaguely interesting, challenging, yet not defeatingly so.

The quiz was simple: I put each clay model on a piece of paper that had a number in the corner, gave the students a periodic chart and sheet of paper, and told them to identify the elements. I let them take the time they needed, because when I saw some counting protons, others counting electrons, I thought, “This could be it — the quiz everyone passes.”

Not only that, but everyone got an “A.”

There was some bravado, as showing pleasure at having aced a quiz would have been a sign of weakness to some of these kids. But their eyes told me that they were pleased.

With that positive start, it was difficult not to have a productive lesson