In 2010 a book titled “Teach Like a Champion” hit the schooling scene and became part of the dialogue of staff meetings and professional development sessions. Our middle school unceremoniously chose–by a show of hands during an after school staff meeting– to adopt the 100% No Opt Out strategy from the “Teach Like a Champion” resource as a school-wide initiative. This strategy required waiting for 100% of the students to complete a task or follow a direction given by the teacher.
The strategy meant that every time a principal walked in, teachers in every classroom shifted immediately to instructions that sounded like, “I’m looking for 100% of you to be on page 36. Looks like we have about 70%; let’s have 100% of you on page 36.” I was appalled by our use of this strategy at the time and seriously questioned the decision making of my peers as they raised their hands to vote for this strategy above all others. We taught adolescents, who by nature, do not want to conform to the demands of authority. Not to mention, the prompts for this strategy were cringe-worthy and absolute fodder for teenage mockery.
Our middle school’s use of the No Opt Out strategy was not the only reason I remained disillusioned with the hype of “Teach Like a Champion.” I was also put off by the mere title of the book. I tried to imagine teaching like a champion-like someone who has already won. Like someone who has finished the race ahead of everyone else. I have to tell you, it was not inspiring. I imagined I would be out of breath from all the running. I might even be a little arrogant as I had outperformed all others. I would be ready to rest and revel in my “champion-ness.” Teaching like a champion didn’t seem like the best idea to me. And that got me thinking, “What should we teach like?”
I think I may have taught like a dandelion. It’s springtime in Michigan, you see, and dandelions have started to pop up on lawns all over. The adults groan and make plans to uproot these nasty weeds that seem to thrive against all odds. School children, however, rush to these early blooms, the ones they are allowed to pick to their hearts’ content. They pick dandelion bouquets while out at recess and gather handfuls while walking home from school. Kids sit in the grass and braid dandelions together to make nature’s crown. The children see joy in the dandelion.
That might be me. Like the dandelion, the students did seem to like me–they rushed to tell me their good news. And came to me when things weren’t so great, when they just needed that side hug. And much like that springtime weed, I was never fully appreciated by many of my school principals because my hand would shoot up during the meeting to question or comment. Quiet compliance was often the order of the day, and I was bad at it.
When you teach like a dandelion, you focus almost entirely on the children. They are the ones who matter and the ones who really see how hard you work. Your dandelion hand shoots up at meetings when you hear something you know isn’t good for kids. It means sometimes your principal doesn’t like you. You have to be hardy to be a dandelion, after all.
Teaching like a dandelion also means the students’ dreams and wishes are at the center of your focus. You endeavor to reignite their curiosity and a thirst for lifelong learning through engaging projects that appeal to a child’s imagination. Dandelion teachers consider assignments that allow for student choice and include opportunities to practice soft skills like time management, planning, and priority setting. All of this because a dandelion teacher knows that it won’t be long before those little white puffs are blown into the wind and scattered to survive and thrive on their own.
Yes, I taught like a dandelion. And despite my not teaching like a champion, I sure felt like that was winning.
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