"Can't Touch This"

Today, I found a great example of how a hands-off approach can really work when trying to connect with my students -- and a few examples of how hands-on approaches work terrific, too.

Hands-on example 1: We took the kids on a field trip today to the movies: they had the choice of seeing either Ponyo or G-Force 3-D. Fortunately, I lucked out and got to see Ponyo instead of "the hamster movie." Unfortunately, my viewing was interrupted by several bathroom breaks and one frightened kindergartner. Where does the hands-on approach fit in here? Well, that kindergartner absolutely would not bring himself back into the theatre after we brought him outside in tears. Until I picked him up and promised him that he could sit with me and use my hands to cover his face, he refused to return to the theatre. My presence (and hands, because he insisted on using my hands to cover his eyes) calmed him and helped him to enjoy the rest of the "scary" movie without issue.

Hands-on example 2: After spooning sugary juice, popcorn, and fruit snacks into their bellies, most of the kids were ready to crash by the end of the films. We shoved them onto the bus and I had the luck to sit with two sweet little ones, Ashley and Chanah. Well, Ashley almost immediately fell asleep next to me, but Chanah was very wound up (as kids are wont to be, when sugared up and overexerted) and couldn't calm down enough to take a nap. She also would not speak to me, just shaking her head and grimacing if I spoke. Instead of letting her wallow and pout, I stroked her back and hair and calmed her down to the point where she was able to settle into a nap.

So, what do these two examples prove? That children respond well to physical touch -- that an embrace or a hand of comfort can speak many volumes more than mere words.
But what about when hands make no impact?
Enter the hands-off approach, requiring significantly more patience.

Keewon got off the bus feeling drowsy and hit another student. He didn't hurt her, but he needed to apologize and that, one top of his already sleepy mood, sent him into a downward spiral that resulted in him sitting and sobbing at a table in the lunchroom. Having just spent the majority of the day proving the hands-on technique, I tried to soothe Keewon by rubbing his back and speaking softly, but I couldn't reach him and he continually whined at my voice. After a while, I explained to him that he could continue sitting quietly, but that I would leave him alone (while keeping an eye on him, of course).
It took him almost half an hour, but he finally got himself under his own control again -- enough to take his hands away from his face. I verbally rewarded him for opening up ("Keewon, I'm so glad I can see your face again! I missed it!") and assured him that he wasn't in trouble, and then he went off to play with the other children as if nothing had happened.

So, why did I bother to relay those stories? Well, two reasons: one, I'm unwinding after a long day and, two, I want to reflect on and share what I've learned today. In trying to improve my teaching skills, I've been reading several books and websites about effective teaching methods and great teachers. Those materials stress flexibility as one of the most amazing tools I can have in my belt -- and I intend to use that tool to its maximum utility. Flexibility makes little difference, though, if you don't have the wisdom to know when to employ it. I'm hoping that frequent reflections will help me to gain that wisdom... and that I can drag you guys along for the ride.