My daughters, Ella Rose and Lillian, often ask me to tell stories about my childhood—especially the ones where I got into trouble. One of their favorites is from first grade, probably because they find my behavior shockingly bad and my ineptitude equally surprising.
I entered first grade a happy child, but that happiness faded quickly. My teacher was all business: goodbye hugs and art time, hello worksheets. From the beginning, I struggled to meet academic expectations.
One day, I was told to write the numbers 0 through 100. I couldn’t do it. I sat at my desk trying to remember the order, but then recess came. My teacher said, “Mae, you must write your numbers to 100 before you can go outside.”
I desperately wanted recess, and I truly wanted to finish the work, but I did not know how. Finally, I had an idea: I wrote my name on a classmate’s completed paper, threw away my own and went outside. Later, my teacher showed me “my” paper and told me she knew I had cheated. She also informed my mother, who worked at the school, so I was punished again when I got home.
I continued to struggle. Since I was clearly not good at cheating, I began hiding papers with bad grades. I was not good at that either. One day, the custodian found my crumpled papers behind a fountain and brought them to my mother.
Eventually, I learned the skills and did well in school. But looking back, I wish my teacher had responded differently. Knowing what I now know about behavior, learning and kindness, here is what I wish she had understood.
First, my behavior was not simple noncompliance. I was not refusing to write the numbers; I could not write them. It was a “can’t do,” not a “won’t do.” When children cannot do something, they need instruction. Teaching means showing, explaining, modeling, giving feedback and providing enough practice for the skill to become fluent.
Second, motivation would not have solved the problem. My teacher believed withholding recess would make me finish. But she could have offered me unlimited candy, a puppy or endless recess, and I still could not have written those numbers. I did not know how. It would be like offering someone a winning lottery ticket if they could speak Japanese. If they have never learned Japanese, the reward will not produce the skill. It will only create frustration.
Third, I wish my teacher had taken time to know me and build a positive relationship. I quickly began to dislike school, and I am sure that affected life at home. I wish she had communicated, “I am here for you.” I also wish she had taught us to say, “I need help,” and reassured us that help would be given. Adults often assume children know how to ask. Many do not—or do not believe anyone will help.
As a parent and educator, I want children to enjoy school and find meaning in learning. Not every task will be fun, and children need opportunities to persevere and solve problems independently. Still, adults sometimes forget that school is work for most students. Whenever we can make learning more engaging and meaningful, we should.
When my oldest daughter was in kindergarten, I tucked her into bed one night and she asked, “Mama, will the days always be this long?”
“Do you mean the school days?” I asked.
“Yes, Mama.”
I sighed and answered honestly, “Yes, baby, the days will always be this long.”
“Why, Mama, why?”
I explained that teachers had much to teach and that school also needed time for recess and other activities. Even in kindergarten, she had already discovered that school was work.
We may not be able to shorten the school day, but we can help it feel less long. We can present instruction in meaningful and exciting ways. We can recognize when a child needs teaching rather than punishment. Most importantly, we can show students genuine care and positive regard. Children will work hard. They will struggle, persevere and learn. But they should not have to do it feeling alone.
Dr. Barker coaches parents and teachers to help support children’s emotional growth and development. Learn more at parenttraining.net
