Sunday, September 9, 2018

Thinking About Motivation

It's the start of the year and I have a whole new group of students for the first time in three years. Moving from fifth to seventh grade in my district allowed the chance to reconnect for the past two school years with the majority of my former students. This year? This year has been a chance to start fresh. At the same time I cherish that feeling and despair because I'm getting to know so many readers all at once and, quite frankly, they're all over the place. This past week during my final class of the day I reflected on our time of independent reading to start the class. It's only ten minutes, but in the first ten days of the year so many of them didn't have the stamina to make it that ten minutes. On Thursday? Day eleven? The ten minutes flew. The room was silent, save for my conferences, and a few kids even groaned when I asked them to come to a stopping spot. I cheered internally. 

As we came together for the mini-lesson I pointed out what I had noticed. Wondering how honest we'd be this early in the year, I asked what had changed for them already. Hands shot up and their answers varied from: 

  • I hadn't read all summer
  • It was hot before
  • I like this book
Finally ending on...

  • You help me find good books 

  • It's easy to read in this room.
I groaned inwardly. See, I fear those last two responses because they make me, or the room, contingent for creating the desire to read. This happens each year - kids read an insane amount with me, but can I insure it happens when they leave me? Well, in twenty-two years, I haven't found the foolproof answer. Donalyn Miller writes about this in Reading in the Wild and through her suggestions, my kids being readers once they leave me has become more likely, but still not 100%.

I want 100%.

What I've come to realize is that I might not ever get 100%. Or maybe I'll lay the ground work, but another teacher will help that child get there. I need to be ok with that and move on. 

Internal motivation to me is so important. I work all year on reflection, goal setting, drive. I look at my students and know I need to teach them Language Arts, but I'm also constantly trying to help them become their best selves, to learn how to dig deep. Moving to middle school taught me that they are farther along their path and sometimes that scares me. 

I want to help them find the right path.

Lately I've been thinking about why kids push themselves. My boys are in Cross Country, as I may have mentioned a time or two. They've pushed through injury after injury, training in the early hours of the morning into the late hours of the evening. I think most sports are similar. What is different, however, is that when I go to their meets, the spectators are family members. That's it. There is not a student section rooting them on, the town isn't turning out to cheer for them. Family members - and not even grandparents, frequently. Mom, or Dad. Maybe a sibling or two. The kids don't get down about that, they aren't jealous of other sports. They succeed - and they are one of the most successful programs at our school - because it matters to them. The fact that most people in town have no idea what they've accomplished does not factor into their drive. They do this for themselves. 

They aren't alone. Luke recently went to a volleyball game. I asked who was in the crowd. Again, most spectators are family. Same for girls basketball, often true for track. I'd guess similar results for softball and baseball. So kids have the potential for internal motivation, right? How can we translate that into the classroom? I think about it all of the time.

Twenty-three years in and I don't have all of the answers. I think if a time ever comes that I believe I do, I should probably leave the profession because then I will have lost all reflective qualities that I know to be important. Until then, I'll keep striving for 100%. I'll keep buying books. (Sorry, Chris.) And I'll celebrate small successes like a student being on book four of Amulet in eleven days after telling me he hates reading. Small successes pave the way.