Learning to get it

I don't get it.

Those are the words of literate children as they read instructions on any given written assignment. It happens across the grades. And I don't get it.

This is how it goes: after a lesson, a worksheet is handed out. The instructions are given, an example is done, and there's time for questioning. Sometimes, the children work together in pairs first to discuss what they have to do. After the preamble, the children get started. All seems fine, until a child calls over the teacher. Yes?, asks the teacher. I don't get it, complains the child. What don't you get?, asks the teacher. I don't get what to do, the child insists. Have you reread the question?, asks the teacher. Yes, says the child. Let's read it again, says the teacher. And they do. And magically, without any further explanation, the child understands what to do.

This behaviour is repeated over and over again over the course of the day. It crosses all boundaries. I see this happening with so-called  'bright' children, 'weak' children and 'average' ones, too. It appears to me that for some reason, children learn to question their abilities and mistrust their gut. Increasingly, they rely on teacher verification in order to complete the simplest of tasks. If an assignment looks the least bit challenging, children second guess themselves. And for whatever ridiculous reason, we as teachers are reluctantly buying into the whole thing and consequently spoon feeding them. It's a vicious, frustrating cycle.

Over the years, parents have asked my advice on some tough questions. Often, I'm tempted to provide a response I think is best for their child, but I resist. Instead, I counsel the following: Trust your gut. Almost always, those words are followed by a parent smiling and nodding his or her head. These people know what feels right. I then have to ask myself, when these parents were children themselves, were they compelled to ask the teacher for clarification? Did they second guess themselves as my students do? I tend to think the answer is, yes, they did. So, how is it that we eventually learn to listen to our inner voice?

My favourite TV cop, Columbo, used a technique over and over again in his work. In this fabulous series, the audience knew from the beginning who was guilty. The viewer's fun was watching as Columbo brilliantly put the pieces together to solve the crime. When a conversation with a suspect was over, Columbo would walk away, stop, turn around, look quizzically and utter most nonchalantly, "Oh, one more thing", and then pose the one question he meant to ask all along. This little gesture was meant to trip up the suspect. It worked like a charm.

Whereas Columbo asked a question to confound, children ask to clarify. Columbo asked in order to confuse; children ask to verify. Columbo asked in order to shake the suspect up; children ask in order to be reassured that their gut instincts are correct.

Not so deep down, children know what to do. They've listened to the lesson. They understand the instructions. They may say that they don't get it, but they do. Children question in order to make sure that they're on the right track. This is essential rehearsing, aimed at teaching themselves to trust their gut. It's their version of 'Oh, one more thing'. Our job is to reassure them that they do know what to do. This will result in diminishing the need for children to constantly verify with an adult.

We train ourselves from childhood to trust the little voice inside our head that guides us throughout our lives. It's something that we must heed and never ignore. Still, before we act, we need to test out our thoughts on others. We need to question. We need to challenge. We need to verify. When we have clarity, we can act and act responsibly.

Ahh. Now I get it.