I readily admit that being in a class with no textbooks takes a little getting used to. Or, depending on your point of view: A lot.
So I do a bit of a “boot camp” at the beginning of the year for students who’ve come from a class with a different style of teaching. This training period takes two or three weeks, typically – but it can last longer, if I feel a class is still not comfortable with how everything’s going to work. A lot of English is used as these systems are established and we do a number of practice rounds with all the various systems and standards we’ll be using in class. There are five concepts for students to get used to:
- Everyday, nuts-and-bolts classroom expectations.
- News articles.
- The SmorgasBoard.
- Resource exploration.
Every teacher has his or her own set of these – I know I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. But the training period is where these are established for my classes, so I’ll lay my own particular set of expectations out for you.
I have been told that I run a tight ship. (OK: I know I do.) If there is a grand unifying theme in my classroom, it’s that all of us are going to respect our time together. Everything else, in my view – all the real learning, in any subject, at any level – becomes possible only once the classroom has become a productive space. And by “productive,” I pretty much just mean “respected.”
I’m not saying this is the only way to do it, but this is how I’ve done it.
- No cell phones visible, at any point, ever. We should all be as fully present as we can, and designed-to-be-addictive, miniature, personalized digital distraction devices are not conducive to that. Don’t try to convince me otherwise on this – I will fight you.
- No ear phones in ears. I mean, obviously. If you’re listening to something else, you’re not present. (“But they’re not on!” The distilled, crisp, purified idiocy of this argument always charms me.)
- No hoods up. Pretty much only because if the hood is up, I can’t tell if you’re wearing ear phones. Which you shouldn’t be.
- No gum. It’s Spanish class. Spanish is spoken. We speak. No gum.
- Notebooks. Students have a notebook, in which they will keep notes, and from which they will be able to consult during any and all assessments. It is open and on your desk before class begins. The notebook essentially becomes the students’ text books, so this one might actually be the most important of my classroom norms.
- Backpacks do not block ANY aisles. They’re behind desks, under desks, hanging from the backs of chairs, or left in the lockers. I need to be able to move around freely. (So does everybody, actually.)
Maybe your own classroom environment means trying to enforce some (or all) of these rules would be more destructive to classroom cohesion than constructive. And if that is the case, believe me: I get it. The culture and the demographics I teach in do not necessarily have anything to do with where you teach.
And now, the broad strokes of how my textbook-free classes work:
Essentially the only homework I give is a rotating news article presentation. One student presents per day, and the order in which the students present is randomly determined. It’s a five-to-ten minute summary of an article I have selected. The basic rules are these:
- Students must speak only Spanish during the presentation;
- they may not write anything on the board, but rather must dictate to a scribe (the person whose turn to present comes the following day);
- they have to share 5 new cognates that they did not realize were Spanish words before reading the article;
- they must present three questions that they still have about the article or its subject (the scribe copies these onto the board during the presentation);
- they may consult notes, but never read aloud directly from them;
- they may consult anything they like – including articles in English about the same subject – to prepare;
- they are responsible for being able to explain the meaning, in Spanish, of any word they actually say, or which winds up written on the board by the scribe; and
- grammar is not a factor in their assessment.
I find these to be immensely useful and fruitful tools for improving student speaking ability. There is pressure involved, but none of it has to do with grammar – it’s all about communicating. The grammar improves as if by magic. (I’ve written a more in-depth description, complete with the rubric, on my Article Presentations page.)
The SmorgasBoard: The details of this are on the SmorgasBoard page, but the basics are these: A daily verb quiz in which one conjugation of all 14 major tenses of a randomly-selected verb (14 is the number that, I have decided, matter) are written on a half-sheet of paper. The subject pronoun for the day is randomly selected by throwing a suction-cup-covered rubber ball at a pie chart on the white board on which all five (six, if you’re a “vosotros” kind of guy/gal) have been written. Once the students have turned in their individual attempts, I send them to the board in groups of 4 or 5 (or 6) to reproduce there the version of the verb they all agree is likeliest correct. Then we see which groups are right, I throw out some translation puzzles (“Cómo se dice ‘I used to bake’?”), and we move on to the next portion of the class.
I love this system because it get students to touch every tense, every day. They quickly lose their fear of it. It also gives a visual representation of just what every single tense is for – the chart is divided into three columns that represent the past, present, and future, and is split horizontally – above the line is real, and below the line is conjecture. Once you get used to it, it becomes a simple matter to decide which tense to use in which situations.
My students who go on to college report back to me that this is extremely useful. Several have placed into advanced courses in college, and their professors have asked the just how it is that, fresh out of high school, they know exactly when and why to deploy absolutely all the tenses. And the student shows them the SmorgasBoard.
(I am doomed to invent things that (a) work, and (b) are impossible to market. What am I going to sell you? The little suction-cup balls…? Go ahead, try it out. If you like it, keep doing it. I’ll never charge you a dime.)