Oregon Humanities

Connecting Outside the Classroom

Victoria Lewis, Portland

It’s 8:00 in the morning as I sit in my classroom reading my curriculum for the day. Really I’m waiting for 8:10, when I’ll go to the corner where two halls meet to greet students as they walk to class. I used to sit in my room during this passing time, grading papers, planning, writing—anything to avoid hall duty.

I hated saying hello to students who ignored me or looked away. I wondered if the ones who answered were just kissing up or if their smiles were genuine. Were they glad to see me, or were they just being diplomatic?

What about those students walking by who had acted out in class the day before? Of course, I disciplined them right away in the classroom, but was I supposed to be friendly with students who had derailed my lesson, cost us time, and took no responsibility for their actions?

In my classroom, I’m in charge. I can afford to be warm and open. But the halls are neutral territory, and out there I run the risk of being brushed off. Better to stay in the room where our roles are defined.

I recently took a discipline workshop called Safe and Civil Schools. The instructor said, “Get out into the halls at passing time.” How did she know I hated that? She insisted that a positive school climate starts in the common areas: that means hallway supervision.

The next day, feeling resentful and ill at ease, I stood outside my door sullenly looking around for a friendly face. Then I realized that in order to make this work, I had to take the first step.

Successful teachers, the ones I admire, seek out withdrawn, unresponsive loners. They aren’t afraid to make the first move. They know that inside every disruptive, angry student is someone who wants to learn, who wants their teachers to believe in them.

I once saw a teacher say hello to a tense, scowling student who didn’t return the greeting. He didn’t seem upset when he got no response. One woman, when she heard a girl swearing, quietly said, “language.” The girl rolled her eyes and sighed but then said, “sorry,” under her breath. Another teacher spoke to every student who passed his door, like a politician working the crowd or a preacher greeting his parishioners after the sermon. If those teachers could survive cold looks, wary glances, and sugary smiles I could, too.

At first it was hard. I had a reputation for being aloof, business-like, and some students looked surprised when I said hello. But I kept it up. Every morning I took my place in the corner where the halls meet and greeted everyone I knew by name. Shy kids smiled and ducked their heads, slackers nodded, and the cheerleaders called out, “Good morning, Mrs. Lewis!”

A few years ago a student told me, “Give respect, get respect.” She was right. Someone has to make an effort, take a chance, and say it first: “Good morning. How are you today?”

From Fall/Winter 2008 Civility