Moment by teachable moment

A few years back The Washington Post spotlighted a math teacher’s dilemma. During class “one of his students casually used an ethnic slur.” The teacher had to decide whether to “let it pass or change the lesson from mathematics to tolerance.”

The Post didn’t say what the slur was, whether it was directed at anyone in particular, or spoken in ignorance or with malice, or even how many people heard it, so it’s impossible to say what I would’ve done, or what the right response was. Some remarks simply can’t be allowed to stand. Students need to know that their teacher is willing and able to defend them. On the other hand, sometimes dealing with the issue later is appropriate. And sometimes teachers need to know when to be deaf, especially when drawing attention to an awkward situation would cause more embarrassment or pain than the remark itself did.

The problem isn’t that the teacher chose on this occasion to address the remark. The problem is the way he and many experts look at what he did. He “changed the lesson from mathematics to tolerance.”

Lessons don’t just change to tolerance. According to the Post, legitimate changes can spring from topics as featherweight as “the lunch menu.” But regardless of the particular trigger, “changing the lesson” is what schools have been doing for years in the name of “social skills” and “teaching the whole child.” Except what happens when you change the lesson to something other than math? Students learn less math. My teachers went off on tangents, and I’ve seen that “there he goes again” look in my own students’ eyes. It may, in fact, have been “more important at that minute” to change the subject.

But how many minutes a year are we talking about?

Actually, the article doesn’t talk about minutes. It talks about “teachable moments.” And it talks in nakedly loaded language. For example, teachable moments are defined as “an invaluable chance to go beyond the daily script and fuse different strands into a powerful lesson.” Which sounds more important to you, a daily script or a powerful lesson?

The article also pits “discussing the power of words and the meaning of race” against merely being “behind in the curriculum.” I doubt there’s a less moving word than curriculum in the entire language. So instead let’s talk about being behind in literacy and knowledge. They’re powerful words, too. Especially if you’re a teacher.

How would you feel if your dentist was merely behind in filling your teeth, or your mechanic was merely behind in tuning up your car? What is my job? Teachable moments are billed as “impromptu openings” for teachers to “broaden their teaching.” Broadening math to include “ethnicity” sounds excessively broad, at least if you’re planning to teach much math. Of course, “broadening” math sounds a lot better than neglecting math or replacing math.

The Post’s math teacher complains that “with the testing, the standards, and the accountability, it’s hard to take time” for “moments” anymore. I think most testing is invalid and unreliable, and standards are often silly, rhetorical nonsense, but it’s precisely his disdainful view of accountability for content that’s made accountability a hot issue in the first place.

He acknowledges that “as a math teacher, I know I have to cover certain topics.” But he sees those chores as obstacles to his teachable moments.

He’s a math teacher, for heaven’s sake. His teachable moments are supposed to be about math.

Yes, I did set aside capital letters on September 11. But I’m in my classroom to be an English teacher. If my students could learn English without having me teach it, what are you paying me for?

Experts urge that discipline problems “become moments for discussions about kindness and respect.” There’s a great idea. After some time-thief wastes half of everybody else’s math class being a jerk, let’s waste the rest of math class talking about the virtues of not being a jerk. Some authorities even recommend oneon-one teachable moments. The teacher leaves the classroom and calls the student’s parent so the child can explain what he did wrong. Except what happens to math for the other twenty children in the class while the teacher’s on the phone?

Boosters counter that these “chaotic” days make teachable moments especially necessary. Except chaos isn’t anything new. Remember, I’m one of the 1950s kids who got to wait under his desk for the mushroom cloud. In any case, you can’t spend math class talking about global warming and Syria and the menu and the jerk in the third row and still learn much math.

The article cites a drama teacher whose students didn’t understand what sharecropping was. The play was about sharecropping, so it made sense to take time and explain it. Relevant digressions aren’t the issue. I digress like that all the time.

It’s also good for children to see that their teacher is more than a math or an English machine. Personality on both sides makes the days pass more pleasantly. And I’ll confess that I enjoy conversation with my students.

I’ll also confess that I share something else with the teachable moments crowd. I, too, like seeing “the light go on in a kid’s eye.”

I just think the light mostly needs to be about what I’m supposed to be teaching.

Actually, the article doesn’t talk about minutes. It talks about “teachable moments.” And it talks in nakedly loaded language. For example, teachable moments are defined as “an invaluable chance to go beyond the daily script and fuse different strands into a powerful lesson.” Which sounds more important to you, a daily script or a powerful lesson?