Points and Zeroes

Table 5.1: Deficit Language Versus Not-Yet Language

Examples of Deficit Language in the Classroom Practical Examples of Not-Yet Language in the Classroom

“I read your response paper. Did you read the text?” “I read your response paper. From what I read, you seemed uncertain in your response. Let’s talk about how I can help make your response more convincing.”

“I’m not going to say it again. You need to listen next time.” “If you are unclear, can you tell me where the confusion began?”

“This should be easy for you. You’ve been studying this since you were in elementary school.”

“I never give As in my class because an A means perfect, and no one is perfect.”

“Any late work is a zero. You will fail the assignment or assessment if the work is not turned in on time.” “It seems this particular concept is challenging for you. Let’s figure out where the concept becomes challenging and try again.” “I want my grading to be fair and authentic. I’ll be grading your work according to the standards and using rubrics so you will always know the grading expectations.” “I realize that sometimes it might be difficult to turn in your work on time. Let’s discuss due dates, why they’re important, and how to adhere to them as best as possible.”

that isn’t useful or practical will help you engage in productive struggle to become more effective in your practice.

Shifting from deficit language to not-yet language may take time, but it is well worth it. According to author Josh Kaufman’s (2013) best-seller The First 20 Hours: How to Learn Anything . . . Fast, it can take as much as ten thousand hours to develop a new skill or mastery, and this learning is hardest and most frustrating at the beginning. You likely see this in your students, which is why productive struggle is necessary. Ensure your students understand that, practically speaking, frustration about learning something new and challenging is normal and expected. Explain to those who are struggling that no one picks up every new skill immediately, but that doesn’t mean they can’t do it. Productive struggle builds in that opportunity to think through, wonder, and reflect on what is working in the learning and what is not.

Also, be mindful that students sometimes get frustrated because they’re so focused on achieving mastery that they lose sight of the intermediate steps that lead to it. In an interview, Kaufman is careful to write, “The idea of ‘mastering’ a skill when you’re just getting started is counterproductive: it can be a significant barrier to exploring a new skill in the first place”’ (as cited in Schawbel, 2013). That is why process is so

vital in the not-yet approach. Instead of telling students they must “master” a task, subject, or language, explain that it is about getting started with their success criteria and staying with it to the end. Remind them of the common proverb that the only way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time (Fournier, 2018).

Students respond when they are part of the learning process—when they explicitly see that the work they are doing is practical and has use inside and outside the classroom. In addition, “Our words and tone of voice have a profound effect on children. By tuning in to the language we use with children, day in and day out, everywhere in school, we can empower our students” (Responsive Classroom, 2012). Applying not-yet language in the classroom is necessary to help students learn practical skills and become successful learners.

Conclusion

In this chapter, I asked you to confront whether you are using a deficit approach to classroom language or an approach rooted firmly in a not-yet mindset. The language you use in the classroom must be practical—language that is of use to your students. That’s why the not-yet approach to classroom language focuses on building and empowering engaging student-teacher relationships that emphasize growth. When the language teachers use is deficit minded, it creates barriers to learning and saps students’ confidence that they can achieve through productive struggle; as a result, your relationships with them may fail. Further, changing your language also changes your mindset about students’ struggles, enabling you to see the potential in your students rather than any temporary shortcomings.

A Look Inside

by April Nagel, Special Education Teacher

I am a special education teacher, and I am a co-teacher in the ELA department (Diploma Programme level) at Ronald W. Reagan College Preparatory High School. All classes in the Diploma Programme are inclusive; therefore, my students are learning right alongside general education learners. During my career, I have written hundreds of Individualized Education Plans, counseled thousands of students, and advocated for hundreds more. My philosophy centers on inclusion and self-advocacy. While I believe all students can achieve growth, I am also realistic. I know that setbacks and obstacles present themselves to all learners in various ways. I apply not-yet language and thinking in all aspects of my conversations with students, parents, colleagues, and administrators.

In my practice, I often reflect not only on the language I use in the classroom but also the language I hear from students. For example, during an ELA class, I spoke with a student about the difficulty level of an upcoming assignment. After speaking with this particular student, I could tell from his mannerisms and tone of voice that he was worried, and I wondered if perhaps many more students were also feeling anxious about the assignment. When my students worry about assignments, I know it’s time to reflect on my scaffolded success criteria, often breaking components down to make the learning more tangible. Often the ways I am asking them to think are new, and I’ve found that comparing something new to something that is already in their experience helps. In this case, I asked how many students were feeling overwhelmed just thinking about the upcoming assignment. Several hands went up, but I could still see a few faces that just weren’t sure. I knew I needed to break down the assignment into more manageable chunks (clearer scaffolded success criteria), so I decided to pull those students into a small group. Once in a small group, I explained to my students that I was getting the feeling they were worried, putting the onus of their worry on myself. I didn’t blame the students for their fear; instead, I immediately explained that it was my feeling that something was amiss. I then asked the small group how many of them ever played video games. Of course, all the students nodded their heads, so I asked them how many felt as comfortable and skilled at a game when they started versus after they had spent a dozen or even a hundred or more hours playing it. Most said it took time for them to get comfortable and build their skills, so I posed another question, “When you struggled, did you just quit playing?” They each agreed that they didn’t and instead focused on how they could make changes that would move them forward. One student even commented, “You could also lower the difficulty level to help you make it to the next level and eventually win the game.” One by one, the students proceeded to share how they had met the challenge to succeed. None of their stories involved giving up but instead engaging themselves in ways to get to the next level. Even the student who changed the difficulty was, in essence, putting scaffolds in place to achieve the goal. Ultimately, they each realized they felt motivated when they achieved success at each level and accepted responsibility when they made a mistake and needed to try again. I explained to my small group that learning course content was no different from overcoming video game challenges. I explained that it’s not easy to understand something the first time you read it, and many times I have to read something more than once to get it. I then said, “Let’s go over the most difficult part again, and we’ll figure it out together.”