"Crack on!" 10 things I say a lot in the classroom.

I am well aware that I have a set of catchphrases in the classroom - mainly because the kids tell me so. Some of them can do unnervingly good impressions of me... One lad came into the classroom the other day and said, "Miss, I'm just going to crack on today." Crack on is a favourite phrase of mine at the moment. Bless his socks and give the boy a house point!

Mine are not as good as a certain
colleague whose sayings are legendary at Hogwarts and include one which intimates that everything is a pile of pony dung, man*, but I am proud of them anyway. I think they reveal my philosophy and approach in the classroom, I think. One of support and humour but also a gentle insistence on independence and self-reliance.

I should emphasise that many of these phrases rely on the student being able to use inference and so are not used with ASD children - or those of a nervous disposition - unless I am sure they know what I mean. They are never used sarcastically or in anger.

Here they are, in no particular order:

I say: Thank you for playing!

I mean: You have given me an answer which is just plain wrong, but I want you to know that it's ok. At least you stuck your hand up and had a go and I appreciate that. I've explained where you went wrong and that you are not to feel silly or foolish. Keep trying and you will get there. 

I say: Passports to freedom at the door please!

I mean: Put your work into my hand as you leave the classroom instead of anonymously dumping it in a box, leaving it on (or under) your desk or shoving it thoughtlessly on a shelf. I value the effort that you have put into your work, and I want to thank you personally for it and make sure it gets feedback. Oh, and you have to look me in the eye as you hand in that incomplete exercise or shoddy excuse for homework and know that I somehow know...

I say: Do you think you are likely to do that again?

I mean: Man alive that behaviour is irritating and you know it. Other students are aware of your behaviour and need to see me address it. I believe you are capable of making a better choice if I just give you a moment to reflect, and I am giving you a chance to modify your behaviour. 

I say: How can I help?

I mean: I want to help you, but I'd really like you to break down the problem you are having and ask me for something specific rather that just making a generic request for me to throw you the emergency life-saver. I want you to feel that you are waving, not drowning**.

I say: How would you like to manage that situation today?

I mean: You have made me aware that you have a problem that I either can't solve or that I feel you can solve for yourself. I want you to be an independent learner and I think you can probably manage to get a piece of paper, pair of scissors and/or glue stick without my assistance. Left your book at home? What exactly is it that you think I can do about that because my magic wand is out of charge at the moment.

I say: It's ok to struggle with this a bit.

I mean: Don't thrown in the towel just because this is hard - and don't keep telling me how hard it is either - I know, I set the task and it's supposed to be hard. I don't want you too frustrated, but I do wnt you to develop some resilience - or what we used to call a spine in the old days.

I say: Thank you to everyone who is...

I mean: There are some people in the room doing what I want and some who are not. Rather that enagaging moan-mode, I am choosing to acknowledge the good learning behaviours in the room. As I praise them, more of the class will get on board the learning train because actually they just needed a prompt. 

I say: Take a minute to think about...

I mean: Don't give me your automatic response. If I've just told you that I don't like your behaviours today, take a minute to think about what you want to do next or what you want to say to me. If I have asked you a question, can you give me a fuller, more considered response to the one that popped into your head? Your learning is worth waiting for. I am happy to invest both of our time in it.

I say: You need to make a better choice.

I mean: You are incredibly close to being in deep, dark doo-doo with me right now. You may already be in the doo-doo but you can start the process of extricating yourself. An apology or acknowledgement that I have a point would be a really great start, but I'll take sincere facial expression if that's what you can do. And then alter your behaviour - we both know you can. One of us is going to manage your behaviour and you would probably like it to be you - I know I would.

I say: Crack on!

I mean: Have confidence in your own abilities and decision making. You have everything you need. You have got this. You can do it. Stop asking me to validate your process and just get on with it. Besides, my tea is getting cold and if you can be independent for 10 minutes, I can mark three exercise books. Yay!

*He does not say this in the hearing of the children!

** If you are anything like me, it will have bugged you that you couldn't remember that this is from a poem by Stevie Smith. Now I've told you, you've just gone, "Of course!" in your head (or maybe out loud) and are about to Google it because you can't remember the first line...Here it is...