Prior to this trip, our second to Budapest and to the Scheiber Sandor school, my partner teachers in Hungary and I exchanged emails about the classes I would be teaching. Amidst class numbers and information about English skill levels, I received a message from one colleague explaining that one of the classes to which I was assigned, an 8th year class, was particularly difficult. All boys, they were often rude to each other and to teachers, he explained, and had been separated out into their own small class for that reason. He prepared me for a group of disrespectful, unfocused, and unmotivated students. I taught that group today. I taught them a lesson that I had used with other classes – it was not specifically designed for them – and I did not structure it any differently than I would have with any other class. I felt (relatively and hopefully) confident that both they, and I, could handle it. When the class ended, I said to my partner teacher, “had you not told me anything about this group, I never would have guessed that there was anything different or challenging about them.” Another Beth Tfiloh teacher who stopped in during the lesson agreed, saying that she was extremely impressed with their focus and effort, even before she knew the backstory.
I am happy that I chose to stick with my original plan, despite information from the teacher that made me stop and think. I wonder what would have happened had I given in to the information that was given to me and restructured because I was prepared for a difficult, and perhaps, unwilling group. I’m certain it would not have been as strong a lesson, and it may have ended up being a self-fulfilling prophecy. What worked so well for this class was that they were being challenged. They were given tasks that were difficult, but not impossible. I presented them in a way that let the students know that I had complete faith in their abilities to complete the work. Had I come in anticipating that they would fail, anticipating that they would be poorly-behaved, they would have heard that in my voice, or seen it on my face. Why would they bother trying if they knew I didn’t believe in them?
I spent a lot of time today thinking about expectations. One of the beautiful things about being a visiting teacher is that you get to see the students with fresh eyes. I don’t expect them to behave any particular way. It’s a fresh start for all involved. That can be freeing for students. I remember being a middle school student and being placed in what came to be known as “the bad group.” In reality, I think we were just the C group. But we knew that they teachers all groaned when they knew they had us, we knew we were considered difficult, and we knew the expectations weren’t high. Frankly, it was a lot easier just to own that label than to try to change the minds of a bunch of teachers. So, we leaned into it, behaving just the way we were predicted to. I have seen this happen many time over with my own students. On a first day with a new class, someone will say “we’re the bad group. No one likes us.” It can be heartbreaking.
There is a yogic concept called aparigraha. It more or less translates to “letting go.” In particular, letting go of expectations. It is said that suffering extends from unmet expectations. And so we let go of expectations. We know that every day is going to be different: just because something worked yesterday, doesn’t mean it will today. And just because something went badly once, doesn’t mean it always will. Perhaps this can, in some way, be applied to teaching. Maybe frustration with students comes from them falling short of expectations, as well as exceeding expectations, creating disappointment in not having pushed them more or tried the lesson sooner.
Whatever the answers are to those musings, I am extremely grateful to have had the chance to teach this group. To greet them with fresh eyes, to guide them through the lesson, and to help them demonstrate how truly wonderful they really are.
