If you're a parent of one of my students, you've probably heard something about our Community Circles. Because they represent a foundational principle of my teaching pedagogy, I want to explain the function that these Community Circles play in my classroom and in student learning.
My history of Restorative Practices
My use of circles in the classroom stems from my experience at a Philadelphia public school, whose staff had been trained in the tenets of Restorative Practices (RP). The underlying thesis of an RP approach to our schools (or any other organization of humans, for that matter) remains the focus on upholding a healthy community by building and maintaining relationships among all individuals therein. Perhaps the most revolutionary (read: controversial) idea within RP comes from eliminating empty punitive gestures schools typically employ: detention, suspension, and expulsion. That is to say that students who choose to break rules may still receive a consequence, such as a suspension from school, but the consequence constitutes only one step of the protocol. Depending upon the infraction, a student may have to complete a meaningful reflective activity or meet with all people who were affected by their actions in a carefully facilitated Restorative Circle.*
A true RP model depends upon the larger culture of the school or organization. Thus, it's a model that requires time, energy, and resources, components that most schools lack - especially schools in urban districts. Even though the funding for the RP training had all but dried up by the time I arrived at the school, the remnants of its impact survived: most teachers utilized some aspect of their RP training in dealing with young people. When I struggled (horribly) in the first three months of teaching, one of my colleagues recommend I talk with the art teacher about circles. I did. And that conversation forever changed the arc of my teaching practices.
But, as I remind my students,
in spite of a negative cultural association with the word,
criticism should not only focus on the negative.
My first circle.
I sat down (at a student desk) with my "perfect storm" of behavioral issues class; they made fun of me and of my Camelback sippy water bottle; they danced around; at the same time, they talked with me; they drafted expectations for the teacher and expectations for the students on the front board; I smiled with them.
Then, something changed in the months that followed. It wasn't immediate and miraculous. It required patience and constant maintenance, but something big changed. Respect. It appeared... and stayed (mostly).
My circles at SRVHS
Community Circles (circles) serve various functions in my classes. When my students and I "circle up" the conversation that follows can be fun, intense, and uncomfortable all at once. We sit in a circle formation and "open the circle" with a simple, fun prompt (favorite food/vacation/movie/music/band; What are you doing for spring break / summer, etc.) using a talking piece, and all students are expected to answer in a few words or short sentence.
I always offer a handout with prompts, where students record their answers before we discuss as a class. The handout also has a "doodle space" on the back, so that they can focus their energy on something else if they're not comfortable with the conversation.
I always ask for feedback on class. For example, in the most recent circle I asked, "What did you MOST enjoy in our last unit," and "What did you LEAST enjoy," for input on my instructions, assignments, and projects. And I always act on feedback in some way.
Our circles offer me a chance to shift the focus from academics and myself onto the students' thoughts and opinions. As I sit in the circle and allow students to facilitate the discussion, I take notes and observe. I try only to speak up when it's my turn, or when interruptions hijack the conversation. From early on in the year I emphasize the idea of empathy, not only because it helps students to identify with historical characters, but also because I believe it's on of the few characteristics that separates humans from other species of animals. In fact empathy represents the key reason I invite criticism from my students. Our young people receive criticism in every aspect of their schooling, in every class, in every space of the building, for their behavior and academic effort (grades). If educators (parents too!) want to promote critical-thinking and analytical skills in young people, we need to model how to ask for, receive, and respond to feedback.
By the way, taking criticism from young people is hard... it can hurt like nothing else. But, as I remind my students, in spite of a negative cultural association with the word, criticism should not only focus on the negative.
Personal connection
The movement within our national educational system that promotes student learning is slowly permeating the thick layer of remorseless traditional teaching practices that still encrust many classrooms in suburban school systems. Perhaps the most critical principle of this more recent wave of educational philosophy remains the idea that a school's first objective should focus on relationship-building. We must replace the practice of keeping order through grades with the notion of social accountability to our school and local community. As long as adults concentrate on keeping open and honest relationships a priority, including all of the required support systems (i.e., Restorative Practices), rigor (an overloaded word in education) will grow.
In the last few weeks, I announced to my classes that I will not return to SRVHS next year due to my extended commute from Napa. I want to be more involved in my daughters' lives during the week, if only to pick them up from school every once in awhile. I wanted to be the first to tell my students, so they didn't have to hear some rumor from another source. At any rate I included this prompt in our last circle:
How do you feel now that you know Mr. O'Connor is leaving SRVHS
after this year? Offer him advice for his new school or advise him to
enter another profession.
Some students shared that I should not be a teacher anymore: a few disagreed with my teaching style and overall approach to class; some believed I should be a teacher in an elementary school for weekly team-building activities, but definitely not at a high school. Others suggested marketing, sales, or real estate. Some suggested to stay a teacher, but not for history, because I don't stick to a textbook or chronologically teaching historical events. It hurts. To sit there and face the reality that not all of your audience "gets you" or appreciates your efforts hurts.
It hurts.
But I know that my classroom is one of the few (or only) adult spaces that these young people are allowed to express themselves without fear of reprisal. When they have nowhere else to voice their frustrations, I expect that they will vent frustration toward me. So I don't take it personally. And I believe that it's better here, at me, then in some other harmful way toward themselves or others who are less equipped to deal with criticism.
Still, many of my students advised me to keep doing what I'm doing at my next school:
"I've never felt so heard in a class before - I appreciate that."
"Stay funny/weird because it is engaging and makes the class something I look forward to."
"You really care about your students."
"I like the way that you try and include everyone in everything."
"I feel bad about O'Connor leaving... I have grown a lot in his class. He could possibly be a life coach (instead of a teacher)."
"I feel honored to be one of Mr. O'Connor's students this year. He has shown me that we need to take grasp of our own learning."
"I think you should continue to be a teacher and bring the unconventional, not just learning facts and events of history, but continue to have students play a role in their learning and in the community."
At the least, my students see me sitting down, listening to them, and in some way trying to respond appropriately. If more adults took part in this type of practice, maybe there'd be less stress and frustration in our communities (?).
The edge
Our schools should be places where we incubate the skills, conscience, and critical-thinking we want our citizens to possess. Years from now I hope that people admit the huge error our generation committed regarding the cooption of our education system by greedy corporate interests, whose first priority is financial profit.
Standardized exams.
Textbooks.
Complacency.
Fixation on grades.
Meanwhile, cultural and social issues threaten our intellectual ability to maintain a rational discourse on anything.
Smoke and mirrors. Unreasonably push students into stress-inducing schedules of academics and extracurriculars. Expect teachers to assign excessive homework and constant school quizzes and tests. Pay tutors for standardized exam-taking expertise. Get children into elite colleges and universities. Keep paying corporations (like Pearson) for every aspect of this disillusioned system.
Oh, and hate the people that disagree with any part of your opinion, because that helps to shift the focus from the broken system that is truly at fault and the corporations that benefit from it.
I seek to develop conscientious citizens that question every aspect of their daily lives, including their own education. But I also want to develop their empathy for their peers, their enemies, and themselves. When I look around at current events, I don't see a need for college.
I see a need for empathy.
For meaningful relationships.
And for an educational system that nourishes our young people so that we can build healthy communities. We need them to.
*I want to provide links to any of the scores of scholarly (peer-reviewed) articles on the many successes achieved through a Restorative Practice school model, but I no longer have free access to the academic journals that publish them and refused to pay $43.00 per article to view them for 24 hours.
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