How Is My Classroom Like a Gym?

Working out on the elliptical trainer, I watched an elderly woman weave through the gym with her walker to reach the stationary bike in front of me, and I heard the body builder across the way grunt through his reps. It dawned on me that there are students who come into my classroom with the same reluctance I joined this gym—afraid of revealing my ignorance, looking stupid, or feeling incompetent. And I’m wondering how I can help them feel the way I feel now—relatively unself-conscious, motivated by the progress I’ve made, and equipped to make more. I think the answer has to do with differentiation, scaffolding, and community. 

That elderly woman who takes her walker to get to the stationery bike? She’s my hero—I admire her more than the body builder. She’s committed to stewarding her physical strength by consistently showing up and working. How can I approach my struggling students with that kind of vision?

When I sit down at a weight machine and take the weight down from 120 pounds to 40 pounds before I use it—I don’t give up or even feel more than a passing blush of self-consciousness. I know what matters both for the prior user and for me is that we are showing up, challenging ourselves, and growing. 

When I look at the motivational poster on the wall, I’m struck by how much humans crave community. Look at the number that are about how we relate to each other. I'm also struck that group agreements are not “school” things but life things. If I change the object of passion from fitness to learning, and change the physical objects being taken care of from weights and machines to books and desks, here’s what that list of agreements might look like in my classroom:

• We leave things better than we found them: classroom, classmates, topics of discussion, as well as the larger communities in which we communicate. I hadn't thought of this one before, but I love it, because it's what my mom taught me about the houses I babysat in and what my hiking mentors taught me about campsites. 
• We have fun: with each other and with the beauty and power of language. I considered whether “fun” was too frivolous a word—I prefer joy and purpose. But this is student-friendly language, and it might be good for me to consider. Fun isn’t the goal, but fun is motivational, brain science tells us it supports learning, and it is a result of learning. I think of the volleyball practices I’ve run: a little fun mixed in, but mostly focused on improving skills, because having the skills is what makes the playing more fun, but there are people who forget the fun in the pursuit of excellence.
• We come prepared to learn and help others learn. For me this replaces the “passionate about” line—we are, but I’m just not that effusive. I’m a show not tell kind of girl. When students appear chatty, sleepy, or unnecessarily using the local language—Japanese—I ask with true curiosity, “Are you helping yourself and your neighbor learn English?”
• We love each other. This incorporates uplift, fair play, being united, respect, and being family. 
• We trust each other—to protect the risks we take, listen to our observations, respect our questions, give feedback on our writing. I considered eliminating this one as being part of love, but then I thought it might be important to articulate the necessity of trusting that others will reciprocate our love.

What insights does thinking of your classroom (or other community) as a gym inspire?