“What should we do when our students cry?”

Welcome, and thank you for joining us for our first “second Friday of the month” post! Today we begin a series called Modigogy; in this series, we explore different perspectives in pedagogy. Pedagogy describes the art & science of teaching–it is the language used to describe the various ways we are able to present, receive, or otherwise exchange knowledge. bell hooks encourages an engaged pedagogy, which calls for a renewed & critical understanding of our knowledge base and the incorporation of love & passion to create engaging & meaningful learning experiences.

hooks reminds us that love is not only for friends & family and encourages us to move through all aspects of life with a love ethic; she understood this to be necessary in engaging & empowering the community. Cornel West affirms hooks’ dimensions of love–which are care, commitment, trust, responsibility, respect, and knowledge; all these components are necessary for love to be present, and so each of these components are necessary in our teaching practice. With these components in mind, we bring a teaching reflection that asks: “What should we do when our students cry?”

Perhaps the most common unexpected emotional event in any learning environment is crying. If there are any teachers in your life, it is likely that they have—at one point or another—expressed the lack of preparation they received to appropriately address high stress or otherwise intense emotional situations. For this reason, many teachers have left the profession. This discourse has also led to some observing preparation & application of this emotional labor as the missing piece in teacher education.

It may come as no surprise that I was a very emotional child; as a result, many teachers have seen me cry and so I’ve received responses that either affirmed, destroyed, or otherwise destabilized my understanding that teachers were people of authority I could (& should) trust. When I began my own teaching career, I was reminded of our mutual humanity as I often found it challenging to appropriately respond to students in tears. I believe any of these instances—regardless of severity, success or failure—require an engaged reflection that asks us to think critically about how our words & actions relate to the care & respect we owe our students.

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of working with a talented young student; for the sake of this reflection, we will call her Amy. Though we were both quite nervous to meet each other for the first time (yes, teachers get nervous, too!), we quickly fell into a groove of questions, answers, and singing to get to know each other.

In my excitement of Amy’s curiosity, I began to give demonstrations of the sounds possible with the human voice. During the last few minutes of our lesson, I began to hear a certain tightness in the vocal cords that could only be caused by a certain inflammation—the inflammation that occurs when the body begins to produce tears. Amy’s eyes welled up for a few minutes before the first tear fell from her eyes as she began to softly weep.

My immediate response was to affirm her–to reassure her what a wonderful job she was doing, and how brave she was for speaking & singing so confidently in front of a complete stranger. She could not put to words exactly what she was feeling; she could only explain that she felt nervous and that her tears were not a result of our interaction.

After thinking through our lesson, it dawned on me: As I demonstrated the different sounds we could make with our voices, I—an older male of authority (in Amy’s perspective)—suddenly & without warning raised my voice. I did not yell, but my tone unexpectedly shifted from very soft to my best “opera” loud.

As we finished the lesson, Amy reassured me her response had nothing to do with our exchange. Still, my commitment as a teacher meant it was my responsibility to reflect on this event so that, moving forward, I am able to give my students—including (& thanks to) Amy—the proper care & respect owed to them.

This lesson with Amy reminded me of the distinct power of our voices and the care we must take in our commitment as educators to ensure we are equipped to share the knowledge necessary to create a learning environment of mutual trust & respect. Reflecting with this in mind led me to learn more about Sensory Perception Sensitivity and its relationship to Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Our voices are simultaneously powerful & sensitive, capable of altering brain chemistry but rendered helpless to illness, misuse, or just plain lack of familiarity. Likewise, our bodies and minds are simultaneously powerful & sensitive–even the strongest iron is broken down by oxygen; even the strongest person can be brought to their knees by a peanut allergy.

Amy may not have any of the conditions I learned about after reflecting on our first lesson, but reflecting with a love ethic in mind brought some important reminders and newly acquired knowledge to better serve myself & others as we continue to move forward in this life.

Thanks again for joining us; we hope you found something new to talk about today. We’ll see you again in two weeks; why not tell us what you wish to know while we wait? Until then, stay curious.

xoxo,

Team Modi

(Today’s blog contribution is brought to us by José Israel García, Jr.)

Thoughts & Writing inspired by:

Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom by bell hooks

Teaching Community: A Pedagogy of Hope by bell hooks

Pedagogy of the Oppressed by Paulo Freire