Mutiny!

And Moving Forward

Photo by Jens Aber on Unsplash

And so, almost before they knew what was happening, the Rebellion had been successfully carried through: Jones was expelled, and the Manor Farm was theirs.

George Orwell, Animal Farm

The classroom mutiny began on a Monday afternoon, an hour before lunch. I had just settled my students after a longer-than-necessary transition after our daily Pack Walk. Some procrastinators were still taking out the needed supplies in preparation for reading the next chapter of our class novel study: pencil, highlighter, novel, and reading notebook. Every day, I have students journal about yesterday’s chapter and then prepare their dialogic journals for capturing their annotations of the subsequent chapter. About 85% of my class was ready to begin reading, annotating, and discussing the novel when one student stood up and walked to one of our communal work spaces. An unfortunate choice considering our history of me redirecting him to stay engaged, participate in class, and complete his classwork, especially when sitting next to his friends. I asked him to return to his seat. He begrudgingly complied, hissing something to his neighbor. I scarcely heard my name, but his tone was unmistakably defiant. I asked him to repeat himself and he said loudly, Why do you treat the girls differently than the boys? As if on cue, one boy after the other began nodding their heads in agreement. Quickly, a clamor of Yeah! You hate the boys! and You let the girls do whatever they want! filled the classroom. Unfortunately, recalcitrant student behavior is not a new experience for me, and with this student, not an isolated incident. Since August, I have struggled to connect with T. Not only has he been resistant to everything academic, he has a history of aggressive behavior during recess and is often insolent when speaking with adults. Moreover, misbehaviors tend to spike on Mondays as many of my students, coming back from weekends usually filled with inordinate amounts of screen time and very little structure or accountability, are easily dysregulated and frequently tired and irritable. While Ts question did not surprise me, the collective insurgence did. I tried to remain calm as I closed the novel and addressed the class. How many of you feel that I treat the boys differently than the girls? This time, a large majority of my students raised their hands, including many girls. Shocked and miffed, I decided to call an emergency classroom Family Meeting.

We cleared the furniture and quickly sat in a circle on the floor. I could feel the mood of the room turning against me, but I pressed on. I invited students, one at a time, to share their feelings about Ts accusation. I sat and listened to numerous complaints, ranging from preferential treatment to feelings of being targeted and denigrated. As students shared their inflammatory criticisms, I could not help feeling defensive. Yes, this has been a very challenging school year. Yes, I have tried (and often failed) to not be jaded and derisive with my students. But as students fed off of one another’s disparaging comments, all I could think was that instead of being the cynical Richard Vernon from John Hughes’ Breakfast Club, I had unknowingly turned into Farmer Jones of Orwell’s Manor Farm in the eyes of my students: uncaring and tyrannical.

Soon or late the day is coming,

Tyrant Man shall be o’erthrown,

And the fruitful fields of England

Shall be trod by beasts alone.

Just as Old Major persuades the animals he is correct, using emotive words like miserable and rebellion, T successfully involved his classmates in his ideas about me as an unfair teacher.¹ Without a satisfactory resolution, I ended the meeting, dismissed students to lunch, and returned to my classroom to lick my wounds. After two decades of teaching, I have never experienced a mutiny such as this. I pride myself on creating a caring classroom community where students feel comfortable to speak their minds, respectfully challenge authority, and to be their most authentic selves. My students definitely spoke their minds, but this time it felt like vicious ad hominem attacks.

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I sulked for exactly five minutes before realizing I needed to act quickly. Our school has a PBIS coordinator (Positive Behavior Interventions and Supports) who assists teachers in resolving conflicts using restorative justice circles to build and foster a safe and trusting school community. I asked for help facilitating a discussion with my students about our classroom and rebuilding a safe teaching and learning space. We both agreed that separating the boys and the girls would help students speak honestly about their experiences in my classroom. In the meantime, I would participate in a restorative circle with T to discuss his behavior and specific complaints against me.

The following day, at our regular morning Family Meeting, I let students know that, while the previous day’s meeting was contentious, and I did not agree with everything stated, we would work this week to ameliorate our classroom community. I found their collective groans interesting. While it was easy for them to spout off on how I mismanage student misbehavior in my classroom, it would take concerted effort on their part to fully address the issue. I expressed that I take their concerns seriously and would be working with other adults in the building to address them in earnest.

During the week, the boys and girls met separately with our school’s social worker and PBIS coordinator during their lunch period. I was not present so they could feel comfortable sharing their thoughts and feelings. At the end of the week, the PBIS coordinator debriefed me about each discussion. Surprisingly, the boys acknowledged that I am mindful of which students I call on in class, and how often. They shared that Ts initial complaint was not completely accurate as different students require different needs in the classroom. For example, since the pandemic, I do allow students to bring small fidget toys as long as they help them concentrate in class. However, if students are unable to remain engaged in our classroom discussions, complete their classwork, or focus during direct instruction, they lose that privilege. This year, many boys in my class have lost the privilege of bringing fidget toys to school, while some of the girls have still retained that privilege. On the surface, it appears that I am favoring the girls, treating them differently than the boys. However, during their meeting, the majority of the boys acknowledged that they understand why they are no longer granted a fidget toy privilege. Furthermore, they conceded that any teacher is more likely to positively engage with students who are kind, focused, and participating than those who are off task, disrespectful, or disruptive. Mr. Neibauer, they concluded, is kind, fair, and consistent. Students who are especially disruptive or disrespectful, are not given the same privileges as others, and unfortunately, when misbehaviors escalate to aggressive and refractory interactions, Mr. Neibauer may become angry. He is human.

Overall, both meetings were overwhelmingly positive about me and how I run my classroom. I was pleased to hear that many students admitted to getting caught up in the fervor of the moment without thinking about what they were saying or future consequences. And it was heartening to hear how many of my students, both boys and girls, defended me as their teacher. Do I regret some of my reactions with students throughout the school year? Absolutely. However, it is human to react emotionally. I do my very best to remain calm and separate the behavior from the student, but it is difficult when behaviors are blatantly irreverent and frequent. There is too much stress in public education, even when students are well-behaved. Sadly, I am seeing more students with atrophied social-emotional skills, increased learned helplessness, and various forms of trauma. As such, motivating students to participate in school and expecting them to be kind to their peers and respectful to teachers is a growing challenge. In the six years since the pandemic, I have seen a rise in student-to-student bullying, students cursing at school, and overt disengagement, laziness, and insolence.

Moving Forward

At the end of Animal Farm, the drunken and neglectful Mr. Jones is forgotten by the animals, who are now ruled by Napoleon, the Berkshire boar who becomes the tyrannical, corrupt dictator of the farm. Mr. Jones never regains control of his farm, falling into poverty and alcoholism. The final scene shows the animals looking in on a drunken party, “from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again” unable to distinguish “which was which.” Orwell shows that revolutions replace one set of oppressors with another, leaving the working class (other animals) no better off.

My student rebellion does not end that way. It cannot. Despite feelings of rebuke, I am not Richard Vernon, and I am certainly not Mr. Jones. I see my students as imperfect, often wounded human beings, and although I do expect my students to be kind and respectful, I am not in the job of controlling my students. I am no dictatorial teacher, and deep down, despite their faults, they know this. My students know that I care for them, and even when I am hard on them, especially then, it is because I care that they grow to be kind and decent human beings who read books, engage in civic discussions, and see the beauty in the world while demanding better.

The rebellion did not feel like a learning experience in the moment, but I do believe we all learned something valuable in the process. My students learned that they have a valued voice, their voices have power, and that power must be used responsibly. They also learned that there are natural consequences for unjustly defaming someone.

I learned that regular “temperature checks” are vital to a healthy classroom culture. When I am attuned to the ebbs and flows of a dynamic classroom, I am better able to adapt my learning experiences accordingly, gaining important insight into my students’ understanding and their social-emotional health. I also learned that there are real problems, specific to this generation of students. Whether you want to blame social media or screens; the pandemic or that the world is on fire, adolescent students are suffering serious problems. Public education cannot continue to be seen as the cure-all for society’s ills. One teacher cannot do it alone. Teaching today, under-resourced and without the desperate need for student mental health and behavior support, is not sustainable. This is more than a public education crisis; it is a public health crisis, requiring an approach that includes investing in better systems that help teachers teach their students (including multi-tiered systems of support), mental health services for staff and students, and tackling the root causes of disengagement.

John B. McKinlay, in A Case For Refocusing Upstream: The Political Economy Of Illness, relays a parable that is often misattributed to Archbishop Desmond Tutu.²

My friend, Irving Zola, relates the story of a physician trying to explain the dilemmas of the modern practice of medicine:

“You know,” he said, “sometimes it feels like this. There I am standing by the shore of a swiftly flowing river and I hear the cry of a drowning man. So I jump into the river, put my arms around him, pull him to shore and apply artificial respiration. Just when he begins to breathe, there is another cry for help. So I jump into the river, reach him, pull him to shore, apply artificial respiration, and then just as he begins to breathe, another cry for help. So back in the river again, reaching, pulling, applying, breathing and then another yell. Again and again,without end, goes the sequence. You know, I am so busy jumping in, pulling them to shore, applying artificial respiration, that I have no time to see who the hell is upstream pushing them all in.”

It does not matter if there is a hole in an upstream bridge, or if someone is sadistically pushing people into the river. The lesson is to stop devoting resources triaging what McKinlay refers to as term “downstream endeavors.” Instead, we should “focus our attention upstream, where the real problems lie.” This often means addressing root causes of complex social issues like poverty, structural racism, or academic trauma requires systems thinking. Systemic change is more challenging than quick technical fixes like more technology, boxed social-emotional curricula, and student detentions.

In the six years since the pandemic, my most challenging students have been placed in my classroom because the school system is unable to adequately address their needs. Giving these students a male teacher who can be a strong male role-model is easier than properly identifying their learning disabilities or getting them mental health support. The result is that each year, roughly 75-85% of my student body are students who are labeled has having a history of “willful defiance” and disruptive behavior. Many of my male students, especially those of color, have been disproportionately suspended, some starting as early as first and second grade. By the time they reach my fifth-grade classroom, they are untrusting of any authority. Even those students who have not been suspended for fighting or disobedience, have such huge gaps in their learning, they are reading 2-3 grade-levels behind their peers. Once puberty hits, these students either become withdrawn from their learning or angry at the school system.

It can be a shock for students to enter Mr. Neibauer’s classroom with an ethos of We over Me and talk of collectively creating a positive community. There are communal tables and couches and opportunities for independent accountability. I use words like family and love and amends and trust. Students are involved in their own learning process, and when they make mistakes, there are opportunities to fix them. Learning trumps grades and hard work is valued more than correct answers. For many students, my classroom offers a place where they can be vulnerable and seen wholly. Some students immediately thrive in this type of a learning environment. Others take time, and more than a few students never fully take off their armor the entire school year.

As confident as I am in my pedagogy and the systems I use in my classroom, I cannot always be tasked with “saving” or “fixing” those “tricky treasures.” I cannot simultaneously pull people out of the river and travel upstream to address the problem.

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Since the mutiny, our classroom has resumed its predictable hum. Everyone thrives on routine, and there are still four months of the school year remaining. We have work to do in repairing some of the damage caused by the student uprising. My students know that I am a goldfish: I accept mistakes are a part of life. I do my best to not linger on any previous day. I move on quickly. Families fight. But at the end of the day, we come together in support of one another. Classrooms can never be conflict-free spaces, but in our classroom, there is no tyrannical oppressor or subjugated student; just a loving teacher determined to help human students make better choices each time they falter.

Have a great week!

— Adrian

Resources

• I was not looking for an updated animated adaptation of George Orwell’s Animal Farm. I remember watching the 1954 animated version in middle school and thinking it was a weird cartoon, and then watching the 1999 live-action version in high school and thinking Orwell was nuts. Any Serkis’ version is set to release in May.

Animal Farm by George Orwell | BBC Bitesize

• This BBC resource is an excellent one-stop resource for reading and teaching Animal Farm. There have videos, infographics, and activities for students studying Orwell’s allegory.

A Teacher's Guide to the Signet Classic Edition of George Orwell's Animal Farm | Penguin Random House

• If you are new to Animal Farm, and would like to teach it, Penguin Random House has a decent Teacher’s Guide. In fact, they have teacher guides for many other classic trade books, including As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner.

When Students Won’t Stop Talking | Cult of Pedagogy

• I often turn to Cult of Pedagogy when I am in need of a fresh perspective to a persistent problem in my classroom. In this interview, Michael Linsin, creator of Smart Classroom Management, possible solutions for the most common problem I have: students non-stop talking.

🤔 Consequences vs Accountability: What’s the Difference?

• I have been reading SEMH Education since it started in May 2024. Kieran offers so many wonderful tips for helping teachers navigate academic trauma, creating an inclusive classroom, and all things social-emotional mental health. I have read and reread this particular post, Consequences vs Accountability since the mutiny, and it has been very helpful. I also love the four questions he asks students after a conflict. As challenging as it sometimes is to separate the child from the behavior, SEMH Education has been a lifesaver Substack to read.

5 Strategies to Deescalate Behavior When Students Are Dysregulated | Edutopia

• While I did not specifically mention student challenges with executive functioning, I have often heard this in tandem with severe behavior problems. This Edutopia article offers clear tips for helping students to deescalate their dysregulated behavior in the classroom.

Navigating Heated, Offensive, and Tense (HOT) Moments in the Classroom | Columbia University

• I wish I had heard of the term, HOT Moments, before returning to the classroom in 2020. This article, from Columbia University’s Center for Teaching and Learning, offers steps teachers can take to potentially anticipate and navigate Heated, Offensive, or Tense (HOT) moments before, during, and after they occur.

Schools Keep Solving the Wrong Problems

• I may have pulled something in my neck when I read Kevin Stinehart’s most recent post, Schools Keep Solving the Wrong Problem, from all of my head nodding. Stinehart is apropos and succinct: institutions that serve children should have to prove they are environments fit for healthy human development. Full stop.

1. I learned later in the week that over the past few months, T had been maligning my character and recruiting supporters at recess, setting the stage for this classroom mutiny.

2. While the parable is frequently cited as an “old African tale”, more recently it has been attributed to Irving Zola, a medical sociologist who reportedly used it in a 1970 talk, or John McKinlay, who popularized it in a 1975 academic paper. Some accounts suggest it may have originated with community organizer Saul Alinsky in the 1950s.