Students as coteachers

In For White Folks Who Teach in the Hood…, my man Chris Emdin writes:

Coteaching is a natural outgrowth of the educational cypher. Ideally, coteaching is implemented in the classroom after a cycle of cogen sessions has taken place with a group of students….Cogen participants are more amenable to putting themselves out on a limb fot the sake of further improving classroom instruction. (p. 93)

I have more or less adopted Emdin’s model for cogenerative dialogues these last two years. In doing so, coteaching with students has always been on my mind. It’s a natural progression for students to go from discussing and critiquing the class to taking the helm and being the change they wish to see. Positioning myself as a coteacher alongside my students has been a primary goal for my cogens since I started them. I achieved that goal for the first time this week.

I played around with the idea last year during remote learning, but I think I planted the seed a couple of months ago with this year’s first cohort of cogen students. I was preparing one of my hallmark assignments and they helped me revise it. It was an interesting and worthwhile venture, but I noticed afterward that the students had merely helped me plan the assignment — I didn’t get out of the way and let them enact it. Don’t get me wrong, their planning was new and critical in the development of the cogen’s work. But it would have been better if, instead of me, the students rolled out the assignment to the class. They knew the assignment well and could speak to it, but I gave them no airtime to present it to the class. Noticing this, I was encouraged to go a step further with the next cohort of students: design a lesson with them and coteach it.

When I approached the students about the idea of coteaching, they were on board. As Emdin suggests, I think their willingness to boldly engage in coteaching was a direct consequence of their involvement in the cogen and how it has positioned them as change agents. Having never cotaught with students before and wanting to privilege their ideas, I encouraged them to decide the topic and format of the lesson.

What did they choose? Math Bingo.

A game! I was excited. So were they. We spent the next few cogen sessions planning it out. I showed them a Bingo template and sample problems. We discussed flow and logistics and consulted on timing. I was nervous, but we were ready.

The game was originally planned for one day, but ended up needing two. We finished it this week. Five cogen students cotaught my three Regents classes. Overall, it went smoothly. My coteachers led the class through the game — they floated to assist students, called on students to respond, and kept everything organized. I stayed mostly in the background, anchoring myself to some of my most struggling students. I would occasionally nod to my coteachers indicating that I thought it was time to move on to the next problem. Without even knowing it, I guess you can say we adopted the “One teach, one assist” coteaching model. We played off each other well.

Two cogens (standing near Smartboard) students coteaching in period 3.

On the exit ticket, there was plenty of positive feedback. When asked about one aspect of the activity they liked, students wrote things such as, “It was something to have fun with and learn at the same time,” “We worked together,” and “It was fun competing with one another.” The constructive feedback came in the form of things like, “Maybe try and fit more problems,” “It felt kind of slow,” and “Give us more time for the problems.”

My cogen met two days after the lesson and we spent the majority of our time reflecting on how the lesson went. I asked my coteachers to attend, if they were able (they had already selected their replacements for the cogen). Three of my five coteachers joined us.

We agreed that Bingo was a nice escape from what we usually do — the break from the norm was appreciated by all. The students liked the diversity of the problems too; they got to review many key ideas from the current unit in a game format. I heralded the time I spent helping weaker students as a major achievement of the lesson; having coteachers freed me up to work closely with those who needed me most.

While there was copious amounts of positive energy about the lesson, we knew it could be improved. To help with timing, which was highlighted on the exit tickets, the cogen agreed that we should have paid more attention to the details of the game (some problems needed less time than others, for example, and we didn’t have rewards for winners). We also admitted that I should have helped my coteachers gain a deeper understanding of the problems before we played. This would have equipped the coteachers to better help their peers during the game. It would have also helped with pacing. In the end, when I asked if they would want to play again, the cogen’s answer was unanimous and enthusiastic: YES!

In the days leading up to the lesson, I went back and reread the “Coteaching” chapter in White Folks, from which the above quote was taken. Despite a year and a half of cogening, relinquishing my status and upending my classroom’s power dynamic would be hard. I needed to steal some of Emdin’s confidence. Interestingly, when I first read the chapter many years ago, it felt unnatural and impractical. The idea of coteaching with students was ambitious, but too much so. Looking back now, I simply wasn’t ready. This week, I found myself reading it with a fine-tooth comb. I pocketed advice and identified personal weaknesses that might prevent me from embodying my new role as coteacher. It couldn’t have been more useful.

All my previous cogens and my rereading must have worked because during the lesson I felt something shift and click into place. It was magical. Coteaching with my students felt organic and necessary. It felt like a practice that should have been happening all along.



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Meditations on a Cogen (No. 15) • Thursday, February 3, 2022

During the 2021-22 school year, I’m having weekly co-generative dialogues (or cogens) with my students. In an effort to help me process these talks and document progress, I summarize and write reflections after each cogen. This is the 15th post in the series.

A good problem
It is 2:45pm and I sit down around the table to realize that this is the largest cogen of the year. I have nine students around me as we start. This included three cogen “graduates” who came back for another round (two of them are now regulars). I successfully filled the empty seat from period 1, but the invited student brought their friend with them. An added bonus! I now have three students from period 1 and two from periods 5 and 9.

I am flattered and excited about the turnout. Kids actually want to be here! Maybe this shouldn’t come as a surprise during 15th cogen of the year, but it does. I try not to take their time for granted.

As we start, I quickly realize that with such a large group, I have another problem on my hands: too many voices. Throughout the year, worried that I wouldn’t have enough students, I have been welcoming all students — even those whose six-week commitment has passed or those who wonder into the room on a limb. But now, after today, I’m concerned about my open door policy. There are several new and reserved students in the cogen and I fear that their voices might get lost in the crowd or inadvertently silenced by more established members. The intimacy and exclusivity of the cogen is precisely why it works. Do I politely ask older members to step aside to make room for their successors? Do I turn away non-regulars who stumble upon us? Or do I remain inclusive and find a way to balance it all? This is a good problem to have.

Reflections on Bingo
The primary goal today is to debrief the Bingo lesson that I cotaught with five of the cogen students this week. It was a big deal for me and to the evolution of my cogen. We have reached the next phase.

Coteaching with the students was so rich and informative that I had to write a separate blog post about it. In addition to detailing how the lesson went, the post also captures the cogen reflections from today.

Next cogen project
After witnessing their predecessors coteach the class, I turned to the current cogen members. What lesson do they want to teach? Similar to the last group, I want them to choose. Drawing off the competitive vibes that resulted from the Bingo lesson, they mention games. Bingo was fun and the class enjoyed it. Why not try a different game?

The first student mentions one she played in her AP Spanish class that used Quizizz.com. In the game, students stood and moved forward and backward based on correct answers. It sounds fun. She provides details and we take note. A second student recommends Jeopardy. I’ve played plenty of Jeopardy-style games in the past, so I could help a lot with planning if we go that route. A third student recommends something interesting: a board game. It’s such an unexpected idea that it gains traction with the group. We imagine each of the four groups in the room playing the same game asynchronously. It’s an early favorite.

I ask the students to continue thinking about their lesson. We should commit to one and start planning it next week.

Updates and Next Steps
With about 5 minutes left, I provide the crew with some quick updates.

First, we had a quiz today in class and I ask the students if they noticed my improved timing. Acting on the cogen’s feedback from last week, I organized the lesson so that no one would have to stay after class in order to finish it. The kids noticed the improved timing on the quiz and appreciated it. I give my word to continue this.

Second, I remind them that tomorrow will be our first DeltaMath Day. We have been talking about this for a few weeks. I ask for quick suggestions on structure. Should we treat it like an independent workday? Should I set up a “help desk”? Should I simply float around the room? What would work best for them as students? They seem indifferent, but do like the help desk idea. We’ll see.

Lastly, we have an exam next week. Two cogens ago, we revised the class retake policy for exams so that anyone can take action to improve their grade (not just students who scored below 85%). We also realized that many students in the class may not know that a retake exam replaces their original grade. I vow to reannounce and place emphasis on both of these class policies next week before and after next week’s exam. I ask the students to hold me accountable for this and to also help spread the word.

After the students leave, I realize that I forgot to ask the new members about taking over the role of announcing our DeltaMath completion percentage. The cogen members have been doing this on Mondays and a routine is starting to form. I make note to follow up during class tomorrow.


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Music in the Classroom

In returning to the classroom this year, there is a lot that I’m joyfully rediscovering. I recently wrote about teacher aesthetic and building community and how those parts of my teaching have reemerged after so much time teaching online. Recently, another dimension of in-person teaching has grabbed my attention: music.

When I think about music in the classroom, I think about the five senses. Upon entering the room, for example, students can see the furniture and feel the temperature. If the chairs are set up in one large oval instead of groups, students’ interests will pique and they will probably wonder why (at least in my room). This seating arrangement is used to increase the awareness of others and induce different ways of thinking. If the windows are open and it’s chilly when they walk in, students will place their arms across their chest and desire a sweater. Without one, they’ll probably have a hard time focusing that day. These simple scenarios reveal how the classroom environment affects the body — and student behaviors and mindsets as a result.

I think this is also true when it comes to music. If I’m playing a catchy song when my students walk in — something brimming with melody — I believe it lights up my classroom and sets a positive, uplifting tone. The song can stir emotion, breed confidence, and establish a collective rhythm that lives in the background of our classroom. If the song is pouring out a set of quality speakers, all the better! (SmartBoard speakers are trash.) The music may not explicitly help students to calculate average rate of change or prove two triangles are congruent, but it can help manufacture the conditions under which they can do these things.

That said, it’s probably not surprising that I play music at the start of class and while my students work. I did this before and during remote learning, but it feels different since we’ve been back. The experience is livelier, more vivacious; the songs are hitting harder and the head nods, finger snaps, and body sways add warmth to the classroom climate. The tunes I play is a curated playlist of mostly R&B, hip-hop, and pop — both modern stuff and throwbacks — that I bump from a set of Bose speakers. The songs you’ll hear inside my room are no doubt a reflection of me (I need to vibe too), but I do my best to ensure my students’ joints are there, too. I ask them for music recs all the time. They keep me and my playlist current.

When I walk through the hallways of my school and listen, practically every classroom is absent of music. This reminds me that harnessing the power of music in the classroom pushes back against the norm that academic spaces need to be quiet and orderly spaces. This perspective dismisses the role of the body in teaching and learning. It guarantees that classrooms are purely intellectual and void of emotion (especially those in math and science disciplines). It means that hearing Jay-Z fortify us with his swag or Alicia Keys buoy us with her smooth vocals is unnecessary and even nonsensical.

I can’t disagree more with this belief. Being back in the classroom has helped me remember why.

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