“Just give me, give me, give me the power
And I’ll make them bleed”
I’m a big fan of silence in classrooms for when teachers are teaching, when children are writing, or when a student is addressing the whole class. In my book on behaviour I talk a lot about how to set ‘one voice’ as a key expectation, how to get the attention of a class, and what to try if your students won’t listen. When we listen to each other, we can learn from each other; silent listening helps to create a calm, respectful atmosphere in which the exchange of ideas can take place or focused individual work can happen. It’s definitely not easy for teachers to get silent attention or focus, but when they do it is a powerful tool for learning. The thing you really want is for your learners to fall silent of their own accord: to make the possibility of learning to be the thing that draws them in. Not the system, not the punishments for refusing to comply with it, but sheer interest in something new to learn. Of course this can be incredibly hard to achieve with some young people, and in some contexts, but I can only hope that it is the ultimate goal of every teacher.
If I’m honest with myself, there is something of a thrill in being able to get (and keep) a large group of people silent so that you can address them. The feeling of having people ‘in the palm of your hand’ is pretty special. I often speak to groups of over a hundred teachers, and if I didn’t ask for silence at times when anyone is addressing the room, learning would be impacted. At the same time, though, I always intersperse periods of listening with times for chatting and sharing ideas. People don’t tend to do well if you talk at them all the time, because they need to assimilate what you’ve said. When a session is over, the biggest buzz is if people want to talk about it afterwards, either coming up to talk with me one on one, or discussing what we’ve just done as they go for their break. Silent listening is a great tool for learning but human connections can be even better.
Earlier this week I saw the following tweet:
The author of the tweet is a head teacher. And if your change of policy is even alienating parents who are head teachers, then it is probably fair to say that you need to think again. It’s a completely normal human behaviour to talk about a lesson as you leave it. If the lesson didn’t particularly grab you, you might want to let off steam for a bit before you go on to the next period of learning. Of course it’s important that children move quickly, safely and sensibly between lessons, but trying to keep them in a constant state of silent attentive focus has to be counterproductive. There’s no sensible reason for it. They’re children, not monks. It’s not a choice between silent corridors and anarchy. For all the talk of ‘opportunity cost’ and needing to make every minute count, when I send my children to school I don’t imagine that learning only happens within the walls of classrooms. I want them to learn how to be good friends, how to laugh and have fun while they work, and how to deal with the complicated human situations that crop up in everyday life.
The problem with the feeling of power you get when you control a group of other people is that it can tip over into bad decision making. Yes, it’s great to get a room full of people silent so that they can learn, but being silent is not a good thing in and of itself, if I drone on after everyone has stopped listening. Yes, it’s fun to make people laugh, but not if I hurt someone’s feelings when I do. Yes, we can make ever higher and higher demands, have ever higher and higher expectations, and sanction people into accepting them. But along the way we might lose something we didn’t even realise we had. Because it’s not about me and my power to hold an audience. It’s not about me and the power of my knowledge. It’s not even about me and the power of my teaching. In fact, it’s not about me at all. It’s about showing young people that they have the power, to take charge of learning for themselves.
I had heard about this silent corridor ridiculousness, supposedly modelled on Grammar schools. I fondly remember walking to assembly, chatting with my friends and in any old formation (not lines) at my (quite strict) Girls’ High School. We just had to be quiet as we entered the hall. Uniform is another thing that is basically sensible but can get out of hand. I was put off a school I looked at with my daughter by a teacher asking our lovely guide (who had taken off her blazer and very neatly folded it over her arm) if she’d been ‘permitted to remove her blazer.’ I’d rather my children went to schools where learning to make their own sensible decisions was part of growing up.
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I do agree with pretty much everything you’ve said here Sue. In particular I would oppose the notion that schools/teachers should do it to extend the dominion of control, or that they do it because they think that “that’s what happens in the best schools”.
However, I can easily imagine a situation where the size and layout of corridors is not suitable for a large volume of people, and where an unhealthy culture has established itself which is unpleasant for the majority of people involved. I can also imagine that it might require quite a stark consequence system to break the cycle of behaviour. Is that definitely not the case here?
“I’m a big fan of silence in classrooms for when teachers are teaching,” Is “teaching” all about talking to silent children then?
Worth remembering: The one doing the talking is the one who’s learning.
Wordsworth had it right:
“May books and Nature be their early joy!
And knowledge, rightly honoured with that name–
Knowledge not purchased by the loss of power!”
I meant in the sense of directly instructing the class, as I explained this should always be interspersed with other approaches. Thanks for your comment.
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Sue – what do you make of Claire Sealy’s post on this issue? https://primarytimery.com/2018/10/23/corridors/
It seems to me that she has some well-founded and child-centred reasons for wanting to establish silent corridors, rather than it being an opportunity to enjoy exercising power.
I had a chat to Clare about the blog. From memory she said they don’t sanction, they do it playfully and only in a limited way in nursery so it’s not the same context as in the blog. In primary they’re in one place most of the time anyway. I still think it is unnecessary.