If you’re a teacher, say “please” and “thank you”
*Ray Salazar tells us there’s a new no-nonsense trend in education. It requires teachers to be direct and to focus on instruction – “don’t say please and thankyou.” Ray takes exception to that and tells us how his years of experience in the classroom have tought him that basic respect is essential. VL
By Ray Salazar, The White RhinoIn all the years I’ve taught in the Chicago Public Schools, I cannot recall a time when the art of teaching—the art of good teaching—has been strategically watered down to one thing: compliance. A recent NPR story covered a “No-Nonsense” approach to teaching where teachers do not say “please” or “thank you.” Directions are bluntly given and interactions remain brusque because the focus, they say, is on instruction.
“Your pencil is in your hand. Your voice is on zero. If you got the problem correct, you’re following along and checking off the answer. If you got the problem incorrect, you are erasing it and correcting it on your paper.”
This is what the teacher in the NPR piece commands.
So what do students in these contexts—in some charter AND some traditional schools—learn? They learn that they don’t deserve to be spoken to with professional kindness.
A few years ago, I escaped an Academy for Urban School Leadership “teaching training” program I got grandfathered into. The guiding text for training the next generation of teachers was Teach Like a Champion. Our coach told us not to say “please” or “thank you” to students. We were supposed to be no nonsense.
That didn’t sit well with me. I left that nonsense after a semester.
Listen to anyone teaching with this no-nonsense style and their tone is cold, distant, mechanical. This approach ignores everything that intellectual and personal development is based on—professional relationships.
This no-nonsense approach reminds me of many bosses at my first job. At fifteen, I started working at Burger King. Many of those managers carried a persona of superiority and distance. “Drop another basket of fries!” I’d hear on Friday nights. “Punch out when you finish sweeping.” I hated that tone. They spoke to us as if they hated being there.
When I became assistant manager at sixteen, I fell into some of this, too. That was the training model I saw. I hated the way I felt after a shift: tense, angry, bitter because of my impatience.
There was one boss, however, Diane, who managed differently. She always kept her cool when we got hit with long lines. She If you’re a teacher, say “please” and “thank you” « NewsTaco:
