As the parent of two small children, I have attended my share of "Bounce House" birthday parties. You know the ones, right? A company inflates four or five giant plastic slides, mazes and castles in a tiny industrial park unit and allows the party hosts to bring in cupcakes and invite 20 of their four-year old's best (screaming) friends. Ahhh...I love these gatherings.
Having attended many of them, I have noticed an interesting parallel between these parties and the first day of school. When I load my bubbly child into the car to drive to the party, he is bursting with joy. He can't wait to see who else will be there, to check out what bouncy castles this place has and to run around like a lunatic.
And then we arrive.
I am quickly asked to sign a form releasing the company from all liability in case of injury (buzz kill).
He is crammed into a small room with a 19" television and 19 of his closest friends. A slightly condescending 20-something announces, "OK kids. You have to be quiet and watch this video or else you can't play." Her smirk shows she basks in the glory of this power. So these happy-go-lucky tots watch a dreadful tutorial on the rules for bouncing and all the things they cannot do while playing (or else they might suffer grave injuries). I have never seen such eager faces deflate so quickly.
Well, actually, yes I have. I see them in the hallways on the first day of school.
Our students arrive ready. Most want to be back. They have composed their own set of new (school) year resolutions where they promise themselves that this is the year they stay organized and earn their best marks ever.
Then the school bell rings. They shuffle through doorways to find uncomfortable seats and wobbly desks, which they will happily endure as long as the class is a good one and the teacher is nice/cool/funny.
And then teachers do what we think is the right thing to do. We distribute our syllabus. We review the rules. We review our expectations. We tell them what materials they need to buy. We tell them the consequences for misbehavior. We ask them to fill out forms, to listen closely to our directions, to stay quiet. They hear this speech six or seven times throughout the day, so by the last period they look just like those four year-olds stuck in that stuffy room watching television.
Now, I do believe in sharing all of this information with students. But we don't have to do it on the first day, and we don't have to do it all at once. Instead, show them the best thing about your class. What do you include as part of your classroom routine that makes your class unique? Show them that.
For many years, students walking into my classroom on the first day found me sitting at a student's desk writing in my writer's notebook. Many entered the room without even noticing me sitting there. On the board, I had written, "I am writing. Please join me." Slowly, students caught on to what I was doing and what I wanted them to do. I did not speak. I kept writing. I would look up, smile, point to the board, and return to my notebook. Within a few moments, silence settled throughout the room, and I found myself surrounded by 27 adolescents all writing in their pristine notebooks or on scraps of paper borrowed from their friends. It was always one of my favorite moments of the year. And it was usually one of theirs.
Nearly every day for many years, my classes began with a few minutes of sustained silent writing. So on the first day, I had a choice. I could tell them they needed to buy a writer's notebook and explain what they would do with it and how it would be assessed and when I would collect them.
Or I could show them.
So I hope whatever you have planned for your first day, you allow your students to show up to the party and just jump into their learning. Show them why your course will amaze them, challenge them and inspire them to keep that first day enthusiasm all year long.
Have a great first day and a wonderful school year!
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