We can’t change circumstances, but we can change our approach to them.

It's early on a Tuesday morning in my classroom. Quiet music and dim lights set the tone as students enter with breakfast. I greet scholars and remind them to place their homework in the bin as my phone pings with messages from parents. Some still need the code for Class Dojo, while others request that I check for the jacket their child left behind the day prior. 

One student stands at the door, upset. Two other students raise their hands because they forgot to grab milk. Another student signals for paper towels because their milk spilled across the desk. Soon a call from the office comes with a reminder about attendance which I enter as I try to console the other scholar still at the door. 

Then, I redirect the scholar to put the broom away because they do not need it after wiping up milk. After that, I ask another scholar why they are coloring with a regular marker on their dry-erase board (and why they have their dry-erase board out in the first place). We will have to deal with that later. 

Time indicates that Morning Meeting is starting, and if an unexpected observation occurs, I must adhere to the schedule. I finally convince the scholar to enter as I notice another with their hood on and head down. With the pressure of pacing, I decide to push forward and check in with them during the next brain break. 

During this check-in, they do not respond. I encourage the student to move their body to help them wake up. When the brain break ends, our Read Aloud block begins. As I see the door open, I realize an unexpected observation will too. 

The same scholar returns to their position before, head down and hood on. Other students in the class continue to sing and laugh about the dance video that is now over. I feel the frustration rise, and it is only 8:30 am. Dismissal is not until 3:45 pm. 

I share this context to give a glimpse (I am leaving out about 18 other potential scenarios) of the stress teachers encounter before the school day starts. In a single situation, the student with his head down and hood on appears like a small feat that someone can resolve. Combined with the other areas that required my attention, the resulting stress leaves me with the choice to either manage or connect. 

Manage would mean issuing a consequence (I tried checking in with you, but you were unresponsive!). At the same time, connecting looks like finding the root since participating in a brain break was not. For example, "I notice you put your head back down after the brain break. What's going on? Are you tired? Hungry? Feeling upset?"

It took repeated attempts (over multiple days) to identify what that particular scholar needed. After a few tries and suggestions, they finally admitted that they were still hungry at this time in the morning. Again, another opportunity to choose between management or connection. 

Management would mean breakfast time is over, so you cannot get another one during Read Aloud. Connection looks like writing the scholar a pass to retrieve another breakfast; that way, their hunger does not distract them from learning during Read Aloud. 

This situation around breakfast reminds me of another quote I use to ground myself as an educator:

"Effective supervision and administration are to be directed toward the creation and maintenance of good schools. In turn, good schools are defined as those in which all efforts are made to support the needs of students. Too often, schools are operated as if the most important objective is to coerce students into complying with the expectations of the school."

-John C. Daresh

In my opinion, complying with the school's expectations means choosing conformity or the norm. This norm can exist on a smaller scale, like having all scholars throw away their breakfast once the timer goes off or immediately waking those that attempt to sleep during the school day. These expectations later turn into taking away recess for not following directions during the transition or even issuing a suspension that prohibits a scholar from entering the building. 

When I have just handled about 22 situations, an observation is about to occur, and a student has their head down and hood on, I have two options. 

One, I can react:

"What's wrong with you? You had breakfast already, the timer went off, and we are about to start learning!" 

Two I can respond:

"Yes, go get another breakfast," while simultaneously thinking, "Why are you still hungry?"

The first does not address a need, while the second one does. The latter, seeking to understand what a scholar has been through, is trauma-informed work. It's where we attempt to learn scholars' whole stories so we can make all efforts to support their needs. It's when we choose connection over conforming to the precalculated expectations of the school day. 

Some days I react. However, the same student with their head down and hood on was later passing two reading levels and sharing their math strategy in front of the entire class. Would he have done that if he was still hungry? I can't change when my students are hungry, and I sure can't change whether the school breakfast satisfies that hunger or not. I also don't know when they ate last before entering the building that morning. 

We can't change circumstances, but we can change our approach to them. When we approach them to seek connection, we choose the relationship, and the relationship will have a far more lasting impact than a rule ever will.