Team Dalai Lama

How do you teach 6^th graders tenacity?

In Room 309 my students learn about tenacity by reading how the 14^th Dalai Lama has spent the last fifty years fighting non-violently for the freedom of his country, Tibet. They read and discuss the Five-Point Peace Plan the Dalai Lama presented to the US Congress. And then, after the discussion, I redirect their focus closer to home. I set my students in groups to devise their own peace plans – personal strategies to combat middle school bullying.

During the majority of the school day my students study a wide range of subjects. They study multiplication, they study the Roman Empire, they study the digestive system. Rarely in the state-mandated curriculum is there time to directly teach students values. Teamwork, respect, courage, pride, tenacity, leadership – values essential for success are often relegated to secondary and tertiary objectives.

But, in many ways, it is these values that my students need most to learn.

As a Citizen Schools teacher, one of my explicit obligations is to build my students’ character, not just their multiplication and division fluency. We do this by publicly recognizing and rewarding students who demonstrate our school's values. We do this by constructing lessons centered on understanding and recognizing these values in ourselves and our peers. And, we do this by choosing a famous man or woman – we call them a trailblazer – to act as a guide for what we ourselves can strive to become.

At our school there is Team Galileo, Team Bruce Lee, Team Juno Diaz, Team Eleanor Roosevelt, Team Sotomayor. In Room 309, we are known as Team Dalai Lama.

My students from East Boston might never travel halfway around the world and visit Tibet, or China, or Northern India (where the Tibetan Government in exile resides). But over the last six months I have watched how my students have come to embrace and in some cases emulate the Dalai Lama.

To teach teamwork we discussed how the Dalai Lama is himself a team player – how, he says, he has postponed reaching Nirvana himself so he can help others reach enlightenment as well. I challenge my students to do the same. “Maybe in math,” suggests one boy. “We can help each other with our flashcards even if we are already good at math.”

I divide my students into teams and set them to practicing a respectful formal debating style used by Tibetan monks. Facing each other in pairs, my students alternate arguments for and against a controversial topic (a school dress code or mandatory classes on Saturday); they listen, respond and punctuate each point with a dramatic ritual clap.

But perhaps most exciting is the initiative my students have shown in seeking out information about our trailblazer.

It can be hard for a 6^th grade teacher to inspire students to pursue education outside the classroom. Apart from the general challenge of engaging eleven and twelve year olds, there are specific hurdles. Many of my students lack internet access at home. Many of my students wake up at six am to prepare for the day and with our extended learning time model of instruction; they don’t arrive home again until after 5:30 pm, at which point they still have their homework to complete.

Despite these obstacles, my students surprise me with the extent to which they have embraced our trailblazer. In our class we have constructed a 45-piece puzzle map of Tibet entitled “The Roof of the World.” For each fact a student shares with our team we get to fill in another puzzle piece. When the puzzle is complete I have promised to make Tibetan dumplings for the class.

Recently during class, one of my girls beckoned me over to her desk. “Ms. Lander, I wanted to tell you. I started following the Dalai Lama on Twitter!”

Do my students suddenly work wonderfully as a team? Or consistently respect each other? Not quite. They are only eleven and twelve.

But I like to think that the Dalai Lama has become a role model for some of my students. In the cafeteria one afternoon, a student called me over. Over the weekend she had written a poem and wanted to share it with me.

He’s thoughtful and kind with a peaceful mind.
He is My leader, a trailblazer.
He is the one, the only, Dalai Lama
He got invaded by China, but he still is a wonderful man.
Over 600 years old. I would love to meet him.
I hope I do.
Also, that he reaches Nirvana when it’s his time.
From a girl in Boston that is very kind.
I write this poem to an awesome guy.
I love his tenacity and respect;
How he chose to stay and help us reach enlightenment
And to become who we are.
Nobody else, because we are who we are

What's in a name?

In the classroom I am known as Ms. Lander.

Sometimes just Ms.

Ms. Ms. Ms. for added emphasis. Occasionally, by mistake, my students call me other teachers' names – their focus on their question, or their story superseding all else.

My students’ names are much more varied, particularly the nicknames they construct for themselves and each other.

Ziggy, Zizi, Nini, Nay, Timye, Lelo.

Names come and go like fashion trends. Giggles for a girl who laughs often; Cricket for a boy’s childhood fascination with insects; JRbeats for an aspiring rapper.

They sign their assignments with these names. On their folders, they scratch out their real names and replace them with names like Skittles and Beba. Their folders grow ragged with morphing personalities. In class students reprimand me for not using this week’s nickname.

The girls in my class have recently taken to calling one of our boys Patrick. Patrick is not his name, nor does it have any relation to his name. They call him Patrick and can offer no explanation. “Patrick” himself seems not to mind.

Rarely in my life have I been addressed with the formality of Ms. Lander. And equally rare are the times I have called my own teachers by their last names. I went to small schools growing up where first names were the norm. I have yet to get accustomed to the change.

But, sometimes in the classroom I am not Ms. Lander, I am “a dude.” I’ve been called “hip.” “Yo, Ms. Lander’s cool, she’s my Bro.” Other times I am a “buzz-kill.”

A few weeks ago two of my students decided that I was in need of a nickname.

We were traveling on a bus, off to visit a Boston college. Teny they christened me – for tenacity, they explained. Teny. And, for the next two weeks, I was instructed to answer to no other name.

Duly noted

On their daily math tests, my students write me notes. Look I am doing better I think this one is easy. It is way easier! They draw me googly eyed smily faces. Some days, if they do poorly, there are cramped and dejected sad faces next to their scores.

At first, my students did not write notes. Notes started appearing a month or two into the term: small at first, but growing increasingly bold, increasingly long as fall slipped into winter.

Not so well today but it is okay!! It is still really easy and I’m glad you gave us [level] J!!

I improved a lot!! See I am doing better on this than I! I feel so much better!

Look!! Better than yesterday and I can’t wait!! Didn’t you say I am showing tenacity? Shouldn’t I get a tenacity star?

Look I am doing great! I’m very happy oh and happy holiday!

Sharing thoughts verbally does not suffice for my students. And they are not shy about sharing. Snack is often a chorus of “Ms. Lander,” “Ms. Lander,” “Ms. Lander.” They ask about the plan for the day. They ask if they can get water (“No, you know my rules: When we get upstairs.”) They call me over with fluttering hands to show me a science grade, or an English test. Sometimes they call me over with great urgency and when I weave my way between the tables, they respond with a big “Hi! That’s all I wanted to say.” Nor are they shy about sharing their thoughts in the classroom.

But, despite all these opportunities to talk, I continue to receive daily notes on my math tests. They have become conversations of a sort. Next to a 9/25: Boo! Me! Sorry I was tired, I walked to a field trip. FYI – far away.

The next day, after scoring 100%: I’ve been practicing!!! Other one-hundred percents elicit: Finally. Yes. Ow Yea. I go girl. And Level up. Yeah lets go. Yeah ow yea I beasting cuz I’m a boss.

One girl in particular draws the most unusual smilely faces on her math tests. One has raised eyebrows and a wiggling handle bar mustache. There are round cheek-ed Santas spouting “Merry Christmas” and “Ho ho ho.” Many have freckled cheeks. Some come adorned with pompomed hats and others with train-track smiles and speech bubbles: “Yaaa.” There has been one shrouded in a scribble beard and another wearing a top hat.

On off-days the writing is jagged, defiant: Horrible. I don’t care. Whatever. On good days there is a profusion of exclamation points. Look I am doing sooo much better. This is the highest I have gotten!! SO HAPPY!!!

I scrawl notes back – like a parent on the sidelines shouting encouragement. “Way to go,” “Keep it up!” “I’m so impressed.” Until recently I assumed few of my comments were actually read. Then last week I neglected to respond to one particularly avid note writer. “Ms. Lander! You didn’t respond!” the girl called out – her voice shocked and slightly hurt. That night I corrected the error – writing responses to both that day’s test and the one from the day before. The following afternoon I glanced in the girl’s direction. She was rifling through her folder – pulling down a page, pausing, pulling down another page. Finally she looked up, and rewarded me with an approving nod.