A former student stopped by my room right after school today. "Can I have a lollipop?" the now 7th grader asked.
"What have you done to earn it?" I asked him in return.
"Uh," he paused. "I haven't been sent to the office all year. That's good for me."
I agreed that it was. "How about English?" I said. "How are you doing in there?"
"Fine, I think," he shrugged.
"What are you learning?" I continued.
"Conjunctions? And poetry?" He sounded uncertain. "What are you guys doing?" He smiled, deftly shifting the focus of our conversation.
"We're doing the commercials," I told him, and he smiled even wider, because that is a popular project and students universally love and remember it. "What was your commercial about?" I asked, because I honestly could not recall.
He launched into a long description of what it was, and what the team wanted to do, and why it wasn't as good as they hoped, and how he was absent for a day during the production, and they never really got back on track.
"Let's watch it right now," I said, and pulled it up. It was 20 seconds of shenanigans, loosely addressing the uses of their imaginary product, but to him? It was a time capsule, and he told me in detail what they had been trying to achieve and why they had fallen short. It was quite an insightful analysis and reflection.
"I loved that project!" he said. "Even though we could do a way better job now."
"I'm so glad," I replied. "Would you like a lollipop?"
"What have you done to earn it?" I asked him in return.
"Uh," he paused. "I haven't been sent to the office all year. That's good for me."
I agreed that it was. "How about English?" I said. "How are you doing in there?"
"Fine, I think," he shrugged.
"What are you learning?" I continued.
"Conjunctions? And poetry?" He sounded uncertain. "What are you guys doing?" He smiled, deftly shifting the focus of our conversation.
"We're doing the commercials," I told him, and he smiled even wider, because that is a popular project and students universally love and remember it. "What was your commercial about?" I asked, because I honestly could not recall.
He launched into a long description of what it was, and what the team wanted to do, and why it wasn't as good as they hoped, and how he was absent for a day during the production, and they never really got back on track.
"Let's watch it right now," I said, and pulled it up. It was 20 seconds of shenanigans, loosely addressing the uses of their imaginary product, but to him? It was a time capsule, and he told me in detail what they had been trying to achieve and why they had fallen short. It was quite an insightful analysis and reflection.
"I loved that project!" he said. "Even though we could do a way better job now."
"I'm so glad," I replied. "Would you like a lollipop?"
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