A few weeks ago, I wrote my first post about conflict resolution and some of the problems that have been coming up with the kids at school. It’s taken me much longer to write a follow up than I had originally anticipated and it turned out I had a lot more to say on the subject than I had realized, so I’ve decided to break it up into at least three parts.

This installment will be on what I’ve been doing to try to teach the kids conflict resolution skills – and any feedback or advice would be much appreciated.

I’ve felt like I’ve been struggling a lot when it comes to this area, like I don’t really have a solid strategy for how to approach it and it can be overwhelming. Even writing this, I felt all over the place, not really focused and that’s how I feel when I’m trying to help the kids sometimes. I have this goal of helping them learn to resolve conflicts peacefully but for the most part, I just feel ineffective and kind of helpless, like I’m just flailing around.

I’m sure that’s not always the case but I did feel sort of stuck. Lately, however, I realized that maybe it’s because I’ve been approaching it the wrong way.

After a lot of back and forth and different attempts to help the kids solve their problems peacefully rather than resorting to hitting or appealing to an authority figure, I finally realized that maybe I just need to boil it down to one simple concept and go from there. And that concept is: Treat others the way you want to be treated.

It seems so simple and in theory, it is. But how often do these kids see examples of this from the adults in their lives? Probably never.

There are times when I see the kids fighting and I think, not unsympathetically, well, what did you expect? You hit him in the face and stole his toy, did you really think he wasn’t going to do anything about it? You hit him, he got angry, he hit you back. It doesn’t make it right but it’s not exactly a surprise.

Yet they keep on doing it. I’m not saying it’s their fault because, really, I’m sure they have never been taught anything about conflict resolution in their lives. They hear “don’t hit” all the time, but that doesn’t mean they stop hitting. Even though they admit they don’t like when someone hits them, they will keep on doing it to other people and then cry when that person does it back to them.

My guess would be the following, based on what I know of most of the kids’ family situations:
1. They are abused at home or witness some kind of violence (and just to be clear, I include spanking when I use the word abuse).
2. Their parents work long hours and travel for business so they aren’t around a lot and either feel guilty and give in to everything their child wants, or don’t have enough time to actually raise their children and teach them things like getting along with others or any kind of negotiation.

So you can’t blame the kids. They’re four, they see something they want and they take it. And when they’re frustrated, their immediate reaction is to lash out and hit the person who offends them. (Which actually makes perfect sense if their parents do spank them, because that’s exactly what they experience at home .)

And so I’m starting to think that, until they get this idea that you should treat other people the way you want to be treated and an understanding of how this kind of behavior makes you and other people feel, they won’t be able to fully get to peaceful conflict resolution.

One thing the other teachers and I have tried to get the kids to do is talk to each other before running to us to get involved. Even after trying to get the “treat others the way you wanted to be treated” point across, I’ll ask them if they can tell each other, “That made me feel bad” or “I am angry.” And usually they will do it, but then…the same scene plays out, usually with the same kids, a few minutes later.

So I’m not entirely sure what to do. I don’t know if this just something that will take time and that they will learn and that I can keep working on with them, or if there is a better approach I could be taking.

There is one thing I do have control over and that is myself. I’ve always tried to be fair and sincere with the kids and treat them with empathy and respect. But lately, I’ve been making sure to check myself more frequently, especially in situations where I might get frustrated or I’m trying to teach a lesson and some of the kids are just not having it. Those are moments of conflict for us, and I’ve been especially careful to check in with myself about how I’m handling it.

For one thing, I ask if I’m holding to the “treat others the way you want to be treated” thing. Because it is very easy to slide into the authority figure role and exert your power to end the conflict and move on with the class.

But, if it was me who was sitting in a class I was forced to be in and was expected to participate in a lesson I couldn’t care less about, I wouldn’t want to be bullied or forced into it. I wouldn’t want someone ordering me around. At the very least, I would want some acknowledgment that I was being heard, that my annoyance and frustration weren’t being completely dismissed.

When one of the kids is blatantly bored and acting out, I do talk to them and ask how they’re feeling, and am sympathetic if they’re bored or tired or annoyed. Then I usually try to work out some kind of compromise or switch up the lesson a bit so they’re actually getting something out of the class. (This usually involves breaking out my laptop and watching Animal Planet videos on youtube, which is way more interesting for everyone, and gets the kids more excited about science than any of our book work possibly can.)

And I talk to the kids about how I’m feeling. If I’m happy with them or we’ve had a really good class, I’ll make a big deal out of that, but I’m also honest when I’m angry or frustrated. I try to be careful and make sure it doesn’t sound like I’m blaming them or attacking them, but I’ll say, “Guys, I feel a little angry/frustrated/sad right now, and I’m not really sure what to do.” And I’ll ask how they’re feeling, and they’ll usually say they’re angry or sad and we talk about it. It doesn’t always mean class goes any better, but at least we’re talking about our feelings and it’s not just me getting upset and making my needs the priority.

None of this is to say that I manage this perfectly all the time or that I don’t lose my patience and get annoyed and do things I regret. And there are definitely times when I find myself exerting my authority because it’s easier, and like I said, I try to catch myself before doing that but I definitely mess up. I’m honest with the kids and apologize when I do, but it still happens sometimes.

I genuinely want them to enjoy class and to feel that they’re in a comfortable, stimulating environment. I want them to know that their feelings are valid and important, and that they can express themselves freely. I’m hoping that by setting an example of treating other people well and talking about our feelings, they’ll start practicing that with each other.

Because this is important.  If all a child is taught about conflict is that it’s bad, or that you solve it through bullying or violence or running to an authority figure, then what is going to happen as they get older? That’s exactly how they are going to deal with problems, and that is what leads to violence on so many levels.

When people are taught from the time that they’re born that violence is necessary and good, it’s no wonder that they grow up believing in and supporting horrifically violent institutions such as the state, and why they will allow and commit violence in their personal lives.

If, on the other hand, they are shown empathy and learn to show it to others, and understand mutual respect and negotiation, they’ll be less likely to turn to violence.

But that’s a subject for another post, so stay tuned for part III of conflict resolution.

I’ve had some eye-opening experiences during the past few days and wanted to share a little bit about the expectations of Korean children as they are growing up.

During a discussion at the language group I attend, some of the Korean members began talking about the way parents micro-manage their children. Most are very strict and put a great deal of pressure on their kids to do well in school and not act out or experiment during their formative years.

According to the Koreans I spoke with, there is not much room for learning from your mistakes or trying things on your own. The parents do not want failure and don’t want their children to do anything that will bring them shame. One of the women told me that her mother told her that if she had sex before she was married, her mother would die.

Now, Koreans are not the only people to impose this kind of guilt and control on children. It happens all over the world, all the time, especially, in my opinion, in religious households. Not all, but many – and if not in the households, then certainly in the religious teachings. But that’s a subject for another post.

Another person at the meet-up noted that children here are micro-managed well into adulthood – first at home, then they go to university, and they are required to serve about two years in the military. “By the time they’re finished with all that, they’re 26, 27 years old,” he said. “And then it’s too late to change their thinking, they are set in their ways.” I’m actually planning to go further into this topic in another post, but I just wanted to note it here so that anyone reading this will have an idea of what the children are up against.

I realize that I am very critical of the parents when writing these posts, although I don’t think it’s without good reason. I don’t think it’s unnatural to want your child to be happy and well-adjusted and successful. However, holding them to impossibly high standards that you impose on them is harmful, no matter how well-intentioned you claim to be.

The point is, there is a tremendous amount of pressure placed on these kids. One of the students I teach (not one of my homeroom kids, though), frequently bursts into tears if she does not immediately understand a concept. Her English is quite good for just having started at the school and she understands more than most of her classmates, but she completely melts down if she does not immediately understand something.

The other teachers and I talked about it and we think she probably would understand what’s being taught if she calmed down enough to look at it and listen again, but it takes quite some time for her to relax and stop crying. I feel a good deal of sympathy for her because I was a lot like that when I was younger – I took it very hard if I didn’t understand something and would get embarrassed or upset and feel like I had failed if I didn’t grasp a concept. My schoolwork was quite important to me and there were plenty of times that I cried over it.

I’ve recently started acknowledging how much I still exhibit that behavior – if I read something I don’t immediately understand, or something that seems somewhat unfamiliar and complex, a wall goes up and a voice says, “you can’t do this, this is too much for you,” and I feel a sense of shame and start to panic. Now that I recognize it, I’m trying to work through it and figure out why that happens, but the point is, I think I can understand how she might be feeling.

But I wonder why she feels so much pressure to perform well in school and why she takes it so hard when a concept doesn’t immediately click for her. I’m concerned that this will plague her for the rest of her life, and that she will only stick to “safe” subjects, rather than feeling confident in exploring things she doesn’t know.

I guess that’s something that’s possible with all of the kids. Someone recently informed me that Korean high school students have one of the highest suicide rates in the world, particularly in their senior years, because “everything is riding on it.” Based on a parent-teacher conference I had today, I’m beginning to understand why.

One boy’s parents came in, and at first, the conference seemed to be going well. They told me that their son lacks confidence in his ability to speak and write in English and that they worry that that keeps him from trying. I can definitely see this, because he’s very chatty with his friends in class, but if I try to talk to him one-on-one, a “yes” is about the best response I can hope for. I was glad they told me and said I would keep that in mind when working with him from now on.

Then they started asking questions and seemed to be quite critical of their son. While some parents were very concerned about their children’s social interactions and overall happiness, his parents seemed disappointed that he doesn’t like to sit and practice writing his letters when he’s at home, or that he is not one of the top students in the class.

He’s five. That’s what I told them. He’s a five-year-old boy and he is bored by practicing writing, and wants to play and watch TV. He isn’t slow or abnormal, he’s a kid. And it’s healthy that he has other interests and is exploring things for himself, so you shouldn’t harass him if he doesn’t want to perfect his writing technique.

I wasn’t bothered so much by the questions as I was by the tone and the look of disappointment on their faces. There was a part of me that felt small and intimidated during the five minutes I talked to them. I can’t imagine having them as parents.

The other thing is, the curriculum is really advanced, especially for ESL students. Some of the kids can’t even write in Korean or speak it that well, but they’re learning English at the same time. I’ve heard that it is much easier to learn a language as a young child, so I don’t think this is necessarily a bad thing. But the books that we use would be too advanced for a kindergarten child growing up in the United States, let alone a pre-schooler here.

So the kids have a lot going on. There’s nothing wrong with encouraging your kid to work hard and want them to be successful, but so much pressure so early on cannot possibly be good for them. Helping them develop a health sense of motivation is great, I’m all for that. But if you push a child too hard and force him to do things that make him miserable or impose your own goals and desires and images for his life onto him, that can only hurt him in the end. Maybe he will become the wealthy, academically successful, ideal person his parents have in their minds but…happy, well-adjusted, with a strong sense of freedom and independence? Probably not.

There’s something that’s been on my mind for awhile and it’s gotten to the point where I really felt the need to write a post about it. It’s by far one of the most frustrating and heartbreaking aspects of teaching: the parents.

An incident occurred in my class today that actually left me speechless for a moment.

It happened during my third period class. These weren’t my homeroom kids but after a month of teaching, the other teachers and I have gotten to know all of the students fairly well. One of the boys in this particular class is pretty quirky and often refuses to do certain activities that he thinks he won’t like.

He’s a great kid, though, and usually fun to have in class. He doesn’t always want to participate in the activities we’re doing or the games his classmates are playing, but I’m usually OK with him sitting and reading a book or drawing during that time if that’s what he wants to do.

Today, however, he was clearly in a confrontational mood. I was going over the class rules (I’m still hoping to do participatory rules setting in the near future, but with our ongoing problems with hitting, pushing and pinching, I wanted to go over how we should treat each other and why we don’t hit), and this boy was not having any of it.

I’d ask a question such as, “Do we hit our classmates?” or “Is hitting nice?” and everyone would respond “No, we don’t hit our classmates” or “No, hitting isn’t nice,” except him. He kept loudly insisting that hitting is nice and funny and then refused to take part in class. He sat sullenly staring out the window, and when I tried to talk to him about it, he was defensive and finally said, “I want to go home.”

I let him sit by himself and he eventually came back to the table to work with his classmates. Before the period was over, however, I tried talking to him again about hitting. He isn’t particularly aggressive, but I have noticed him raising his fists and pinching and doing things like that in recent weeks.

He kept insisting hitting is good and when I asked why he felt that way, he said, “Because I’m only playing.” So we talked about how it’s OK to play (a lot of the kids are really into “Power Rangers” and the boys especially like to re-enact what they see on the show), but it’s not OK to really hit someone.

Then he said, “yes, I like to really hit.” I asked why and after a few minutes, he said something along the lines of, “I am bad.” My first instinct was to rush to say, “No, you’re not!” but then I had another thought. Why would this five-year-old boy be telling me he’s bad?

“Why do you think you’re bad?” I asked. He looked at me for a minute but didn’t answer. I tried again.
“Did someone tell you you’re bad?” He nodded.
“Who told you you’re bad?”
He paused, then looked me in the eyes and said, “Mommy.”

For a minute, I didn’t know what to say. I felt tears coming to my eyes but I took a deep breath and said, “Mommy told you you’re bad?” He said yes.

“Well, you’re not bad. You’re not bad at all, OK? Miss Jaime doesn’t think that and I know that you’re really, really good.”

He shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m bad.”

I was genuinely horrified. How heartbreaking to see this beautiful, bright little boy believing he’s “bad” because his mother told him so. I’ve been thinking about it on and off all day, and I’m sure there are a million ways I could have handled the situation better. I wanted so much for him to know that he isn’t bad, that he’s a wonderful little person. But I also know it doesn’t matter that I’m saying it. He has to know that himself and I don’t think I really helped him get to that point.

This isn’t the only thing like this that I’ve witnessed. The Korean teachers have to call the parents every afternoon to update them on what went on in class that day. Last week, I was talking to the teacher who calls my homeroom class’ parents about some of the feedback she’s been getting.

Some of it was decent, some irritating and one mother’s complaints in particular were infuriating.

Her son is one of the students I’ve been most concerned about lately. He’s really sweet, especially when you talk to him one on one, but it takes a long time to get his attention when you ask him to do something or when it’s time for class. I can’t always tell if he’s just ignoring me or if he’s off in his own world. Sometimes I notice him practicing his taekwondo moves with a really focused look on his face and I assume he’s caught up in what he’s doing.

He’s started acting out a bit in recent weeks, which worries me because he wasn’t acting like this at all at the beginning of the year. But I think a lot of the time he’s doing things that he thinks are playful or will make people laugh.

His mother told the co-teacher that her son really likes me, but that she’s worried because he sees me as his friend, not his teacher. She also said that he has an older brother at home and that they play very rough together and fight, so she is worried that he is too wild for me and that I can’t handle him.

Then she said that she wants me to “scare” him into listening because he doesn’t behave and needs discipline.

I was furious. Of course I flat out refused to do that. Scare him? How can this woman even be serious? This is her son she’s talking about. Why would you ever want anyone, let alone his teacher, who is still practically a stranger, to deliberately threaten and scare him? Why would anyone want to do that to a five-year-old child? (Of course, I do know the potential answers to that but it still seems incomprehensible to me.)

Then I thought, how dare she? If he is acting out and she’s having problems with him, that’s probably because of a difficult situation at home. Where does she come off demanding that I scare her son so badly that he will not only listen to me but to her when he goes home? What kind of a mother wants a woman she has never even met to discipline her child?

I don’t have kids at the moment, but I hope to someday. And the thought of my child being in a classroom where he or she is being yelled at and reprimanded constantly by the teacher fills me with anger. And that’s exactly what this woman wants me to do!

I just feel so sad for these poor boys. They’re only five and this is what they’re being subjected to. It’s so irresponsible and cruel, it’s difficult to even comprehend.

What makes these situations even more aggravating is how involved the parents are on some levels. They nit-pick about everything. Well, everything that’s not really important, that is.

One of the biggest complaints we’ve heard so far is that the kids are coming home a little disheveled. Their hair isn’t as perfectly combed as it was when they left the house in the morning, and that simply isn’t acceptable. Who cares that your kid comes in and starts taking swings at his classmates or sometimes inexplicably withdraws throughout the day? All that matters is that their hair is brushed when they get on the bus to go home.

There are plenty of other complaints like this – superficial, inconsequential things that would be laughable if these people weren’t actually 100 percent serious.

Most of the students who attend the school come from families that are quite well-off. The kids come in wearing designer coats, dresses and sweatsuits on a daily basis. The tuition is nearly $2,000 a month, and the parents expect to see their demands met. I haven’t met them yet, but will this month during our parent-teacher conferences. I suppose one could say that I’m judging them a little harshly before having had a conversation with them, but I think there’s a lot to be learned just from interacting with the kids.

And some of the parents have raised genuine concerns about how their kids are getting along with others and what they’ve been doing in class. I’m actually looking forward to meeting those parents because there might be a chance to have a productive conversation about their child’s experience at the school and how I can help them more.

From what I can tell, a lot of the students really crave attention. I don’t know all of their family situations, but I understand that a lot of them live in homes where both parents work quite a bit and travel frequently, so the children don’t get to spend much time with them. I don’t think this is the case with everyone. There are several students who seem generally happy and healthy and that’s wonderful. It’s the others I worry about.

I could probably go on much longer about this because I see situations like the ones above at least several times a week. There are moments when I feel a sense of helplessness and deep sadness. But those are also the times when I am find myself more committed than ever to being loving and compassionate with the students and being aware of changes in their moods and behavior, and really just trying to support them and help them in whatever way I can.

I’ve wanted to write a post about teaching for the past week or so, but I’ve had so many thoughts kicking around my brain that I didn’t quite know where to start. (And for the past couple of days, there’s also been a small element of laziness going on.)

There’s so much I want to say, but I figured I would start with a post on my wonderful students since everything I’ll be writing about will begin with what I experience from working with them.

There are eight students in my home room class and they are who I see most often. They’re with me for snack, language or phonics (depending on the day), lunch and storytelling. The rest of the day is spent rotating through math, science, theme, reading and a special (gym, drama, golf or art). That’s when the other three classes come to me for writing or phonics.

Since so much of my time is spent with my home group, that’s who I’ll be referring to when I say “my kids.” There are four six-year-old classes. Cherry is by far the most energetic and assertive of the four and I love them for it. They’re developing a bit of a reputation around the school for being wild, but I think they’re a great bunch and we’re learning to work together, a little bit at a time.

It’s no secret among the teachers that Henry, the student who seems to be caught “misbehaving” most of the time, also happens to be my favorite. I don’t play favorites in front of the kids, but I do keep an eye out for him. Henry speaks very little English and loves to talk and entertain, neither of which he stops doing when it’s time to start class. It took a few days of really making an effort to talk to him and engage him, but with enough persistence and creativity, he started to open up.

After about three days of trying, I finally made Henry laugh and he started looking me in the eye, using my name and even telling me all the words he knows in English. After a few more days, he grabbed my hand for the first time and he’s used at least one new English word every day since. Our progress is small and I’m sure it’s not noticeable to anyone else. But Henry is slowly letting me know who he is and that is what really matters to me.

It’s been a similar experience with most of the students. Some of the girls opened up right away, wanting hugs and attention from the first day of class. With others, it’s taken a little longer for them to trust me. But we’ve come so far in the past week and a half in terms of them participating in class and expressing themselves in their own unique ways, I can only imagine where they’ll be by the end of the year.

One of the most awesome things to witness every day is the immensity of their personalities. Maybe the best thing about the Cherry Class kids is how assertive and opinionated they are. They have absolutely no problem saying what they want or letting me know when they’re not interested in a lesson. They’re quite independent. When they want to draw in their sketchbooks, they go get their sketchbooks. If they want to read a book, they grab one and sit down and read it. It’s not uncommon for them to resist suggestions of activities for them to do during their free time. They’re more than capable of doing things themselves and they very quickly let you know that.

We do have some getting-along issues here and there, but there are also some beautiful moments when they’ve all spread themselves out on the floor and are drawing and coloring and chatting away to each other, with no help or input from me. Of course I can’t understand a word they’re saying because it’s all in Korean, but it’s wonderful to listen to all the same.

We’re still not using a rewards system in Cherry Class, which is how I intend to keep things. This does mean stopping what we’re doing more often to address problems and it will take a little more time to settle into a system that works for us, but I think we’re doing OK. I feel a deep sense of pride and respect when I think about the energy and creativity I witness from them all the time. Yes, they might be a little wild, but I like that about them. Their sense of adventure and curiosity are things I never want them to lose and I intend to spend the next year nurturing and encouraging these fearless little people.

It’s been two days since I started teaching, and I am exhausted but also totally exhilarated. It seems as though all I’ve thought about for the past 48 hours are my kids. This is so different from anything I’ve ever done, and it’s incredibly challenging and requires pretty much every thought, every ounce of attention and drop of energy I have. But above all else, it’s completely awesome.

My students totally amaze me. Aside from being beyond adorable and so much fun to be around, I’m blown away by their energy, assertiveness and overall interest in everything that’s going on around them. Of course, those attributes sometimes interfere with the lesson I’ve planned but that’s my issue. I just have to work harder to come up with activities that keep them interested and wanting to be part of my class. They speak much less English than I was expecting, but I’m staying flexible and determined to find a system that works for us to communicate with each other.

I’ve loved every second I’ve spent with the kids, but I’ve also learned a lot about typical teaching strategies and there is a lot I disagree with. I spoke with a few other teachers about the issues I was having with being ineffective at motivating the class or communicating with them.

There were a lot of suggestions to be strict, or to stick to the star chart reward system. Basically, everyone starts the day with three stars and if they follow the class rules all day, he or she gets a sticker when it’s time to go home. Once they’ve collected 20 stickers, they get a prize. A star can be taken away each time they’re “caught” misbehaving, and if they lose all three, they don’t receive a sticker. If they misbehave several times throughout the day and lose all their stars, they don’t get a sticker, and are probably reprimanded multiple times throughout their classes.

This does not sit well with me at all. All the teachers have star charts, but the more I thought about it, the less I was inclined to use mine. This great post from Chinarchy, a blog written by two English teachers in China, explains some of the negatives of using a reward system.

They make several good points, but the idea that the wrong person gets punished when rewards systems are used really stayed with me this week. Because really, why should the students be punished if they’ve lost interest in what I’m saying? That’s their way of saying, “Miss Jaime, get your act together. This is boring and we’re not into it.”

Someone told me that once one student is seen losing or being denied a star or sticker, the rest would catch on quickly and start behaving. So I’m supposed to embarrass some poor kid just to maintain order and gain some kind of respect based on fear? I don’t think so.

While I do think it’s necessary to give them a sense of structure and routine, I’m not really that concerned about whether they can form a straight line. The biggest issues I’ve seen are some hitting and fighting, which have obviously led to some tears and hurt feelings.

But I don’t think those are problems that are going to be solved by taking a star away every time one kid pinches another. That doesn’t really teach them why it’s bad to hit or pinch or be aggressive. In the end, all they will learn that way is that it’s bad to get caught.

Yes, it is more time consuming to stop what I’m doing every time something like that happens, to try and get a few words in English from them about how they’re feeling and what exactly occurred, but I really believe they will learn more that way than by simply behaving in front of their teachers to earn a sticker or a star. And if we can make progress on the hitting and aggression front, I will be much prouder of them for that than for any amount of reading and writing they are able to do by the end of the year.