Carefully Choose Your Verb

In my posi­tion as a gifted sup­port teacher, I have the oppor­tu­nity each day to work with reg­u­lar edu­ca­tion stu­dents and their teach­ers. Last week, I had the plea­sure and priv­i­lege of join­ing a first grade class, taught by a won­der­ful, tal­ented young teacher. (I can say that now that I’m no longer in the “young” cat­e­gory.) It isn’t often that I get to work with pri­mary grade stu­dents, and my expe­ri­ence in that class­room got me think­ing about the way we do things in school and about the verbs we use to describe it.

Dur­ing our les­son last Fri­day, we were doing a sci­ence exper­i­ment. The stu­dents have been learn­ing about rocks, and the inves­ti­ga­tion that day was called “Wash­ing Rocks.” Sounds like a yawn-​​fest if ever there was one, even to me, a sci­ence geek.

But when the stu­dents heard we were going to do sci­ence, there was such obvi­ous joy and excite­ment in the room. The teacher, Miss Hill, briefly reviewed what the stu­dents had done the pre­vi­ous day, then announced (with what I have learned is typ­i­cal first-​​grade-​​teacher enthu­si­asm) that today they would get to wash their rocks! One lit­tle girl in the room was so full of glee at this announce­ment she couldn’t con­tain her­self. She cheered, “Yay!” and clapped her hands as only a six-​​year-​​old child can. This was a rev­e­la­tion to me: she couldn’t wait to learn some­thing, but even more impor­tant, she walked into every expe­ri­ence, no mat­ter how small, with the expec­ta­tion that she would learn.

Through­out the half-​​hour expe­ri­ence that fol­lowed, while the stu­dents were dip­ping their rocks into cups of water and watch­ing what hap­pened as a result, there was an intense buzz and energy in the room. Every sin­gle child was engaged in the process, every one had per­cep­tive obser­va­tions, and every one was hav­ing his or her world expanded at least a little.

Those stu­dents were learn­ing, and more than just what hap­pens when a rock gets wet. In a half hour, they learned about how to look closely at some­thing and see the details; they learned how to share, both mate­ri­als and respon­si­bil­i­ties; they learned that some­times you make a mess…and then how to clean it up; they learned how to com­mu­ni­cate an idea with some­one else; they learned the power of a shared expe­ri­ence; and they learned that learn­ing is exciting.

Too often we spend our time in school doing the wrong verb. So much of school is about edu­cat­ing instead of learn­ing, and the dif­fer­ences are vast. Stu­dents learn, but teach­ers edu­cate. I look at a room full of first graders and I see chil­dren who are thirsty for knowl­edge and understanding.

I fear that the response of many edu­ca­tors to that thirst is to pour a bucket of water on their heads. The results are about as effec­tive, too. After years of telling teach­ers they need a drink and get­ting doused instead, I think our stu­dents become soggy and cold and uncom­fort­able. It’s no won­der that when I visit many fourth or fifth grade class­rooms, I see stu­dents who sim­ply want to get through the day. They’ve learned how the game is played: edu­ca­tion is going to hap­pen to them regard­less, and it makes lit­tle dif­fer­ence whether they bother to learn. When they ask why they need to learn it, or whether they may learn some­thing they’re inter­ested in, or how it con­nects to their real world, we just edu­cate them harder or slower or louder or faster, pour­ing on more water. We quench the fire instead of the thirst.

I for one am begin­ning to choose my verbs more care­fully. I want to focus on learn­ing, not edu­cat­ing. I want to engage stu­dents, not deliver instruc­tion. I want to dis­cover, not cover. What other verbs do you need to use more wisely?