Conducting Student-Driven Interviews

Practical Strategies for Increasing Student Involvement and Addressing Behavior Problems

John J. Murphy

• Editorial: Routledge
• Año: 2013
• ISBN:
  9781136199394
• Edición: 1
• Categoría: Bildung
• Categoría: Bildungspsychologie

This user-friendly book equips school practitioners with practical skills and strategies for conducting student-driven interviews—conversations that invite students of all ages to take charge of school-behavior problems and build solutions based on their own strengths and resources. In contrast to traditional interviewing models that approach behavior problems by focusing on what is wrong and missing in students' lives, student-driven interviews help students discover and apply what is right and working in their lives—successes, strengths, values, and other "natural resources."

In Conducting Student-Driven Interviews, readers will learn how to customize conversations one student at a time using ideas and techniques that have been field tested for application to real problems of real students in the real world of schools. The book's positive, student-driven approach is illustrated through dozens of real-life dialogues and examples involving a wide range of students and problems, and the author's irrepressible faith in students' ability to change jumps off of every page. School-based professionals of all backgrounds will find Conducting Student-Driven Interviews an invaluable roadmap for increasing student involvement and involving students in every aspect of their care, from goal development through evaluation of services.

part one

Foundations

one

Lessons from
the Greats

Chapter Objectives

■	To portray students as the best teachers of what works and doesn’t work in engaging students’ attention and involvement;
■	To tell four stories involving a variety of students, situations, and lessons;
■	To highlight the importance of student involvement in conversations about school problems and solutions.

In the book All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, Robert Fulghum (2003) claims to have learned many of life’s most important lessons—sharing, balancing work and play, and respecting others—when he was a young child in kindergarten. In that same spirit, this book could be called, All I Needed to Know about Talking with Students I Learned from the Students Themselves. Don’t get me wrong. I have learned much from my professors and textbooks. But the best lessons of all— the ones that shook me up and got my attention and stayed with me—have come from none other than the students themselves.

Lessons from the Greatest Teachers of All

I have had the privilege of working with hundreds of preschool through high school students referred for a variety of reasons—skipping school, running around the classroom, struggling academically, cursing at teachers, bullying and being bullied, and threatening suicide, to name just a few. These students have patiently taught me what works and doesn’t work in conducting interviews about school problems and solutions. Some lessons stretched across several years and involved many different students and conversations. Others sprang from a single experience and jolted me into a whole new way of approaching students; four such experiences are described below.

Rachel, Age 14

Tim Smith, the usually calm middle school principal, bursts into my office. “John, I need you on the fourth floor right now! I’ll fill you in on the way.” He explains that a ninth-grade student named Rachel is threatening to jump out of the restroom window and kill herself. Tim had already talked to Rachel’s mother, who worked about 30 minutes away and was leaving immediately for the school. She told Tim that she and Rachel had a major disagreement that morning.

We reach the top floor. The restroom is cordoned off by several teachers to prevent anyone from entering. I gently open the door and am immediately greeted by the sound of Rachel’s labored breathing. She is rocking back and forth on the window ledge—head down, eyes shut, and shivering from the cold air gusting through the window. Her breathing is fast and loud. The possibility of hyperventilation and fainting adds to the tension. Rachel turns toward me and says, “Don’t mess with me or I’ll jump.” So begins the conversation.

“Okay, Rachel. I won’t mess with you.” Then, with the best of intentions, I proceed to mess with her because I am convinced that I can talk her down if I play it right. “Rachel, I know you’re very upset.” Before the last word leaves my mouth, Rachel shouts, “I said don’t mess with me. I swear I’ll jump.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, having struck out on my first attempt to connect with Rachel and unsure what to say next.

A minute goes by in silence save for the sounds of Rachel’s heavy breathing and rocking back and forth. Then it hits me: Why should I expect Rachel to trust a total stranger and bear her soul in a situation like this? This question changes my expectations and approach.

Freed from the pressure of producing the right words at just the right time, I choose a simpler route. “Of all the people in this school, who do you most want to see right now?” This question seems to capture Rachel’s attention. Her rocking and breathing slow down for a few seconds before she says, “Miss P.” Miss P was short for Ms. Palumbo, a popular math teacher who had Rachel in class this semester and the year before. I crack the restroom door to tell Tim, who immediately sends for Ms. P.

Ms. P. quietly enters the restroom. Rachel is staring downward and doesn’t seem to notice her arrival. At the sound of one word—“Rachel,” as only Ms. P could say it—Rachel’s entire body slumps and relaxes. She swings her right leg over the window ledge and onto the floor. Ms. P walks over and puts her hand on Rachel’s shoulder. Rachel collapses into her arms and begins to sob—quietly at first but deeper and deeper over the next few minutes as Ms. P holds her without saying a word.

Ms. P escorted Rachel to the counselor’s office, and Rachel’s mother arrived a few minutes later. At some point during my 30-minute visit with Rachel, Tim had invited a local therapist to come to the school and meet with Rachel and her mother to make plans for follow-up counseling. Rachel checked in regularly with the school counselor throughout the remainder of the year. No other incidents or concerns were reported by school personnel.

Fortunately, talking students down from window ledges is not an everyday event for school practitioners. Despite the uncommon nature of this experience, however, I learned several lessons that have been useful in my everyday work with students.

Lessons from Rachel

Rachel taught me something that morning that has become a core assumption of student-driven interviewing: Every student offers a unique set of resources that can be applied toward school solutions. I call them “natural resources” because they are a natural part of students’ lives—cultural traditions, family support, hobbies, resilience, and influential people such as Ms. P are but a few examples. And they are there for the asking. As I wracked my brain to come up with just the right thing to say, there was a powerful natural resource standing 200 feet away who already had what I needed from Rachel—trust, respect, and connection.

Instead of using this strategy as a last resort or by default as I did with Rachel, this book encourages you to deliberately incorporate students’ natural resources into interventions and conversations with students. There is an ample body of research that supports this practice, and specific techniques for doing so are provided in Chapter 10.

Another valuable lesson I learned from Rachel is that sometimes the best thing I can do for a student is to be quiet. Putting this lesson into practice has not always been easy; I was raised Irish and we like to talk. A few seconds of silence now and then during a meeting allows us and students to process information and consider new ideas. Had I not shut up long enough to allow something different to enter my mind, I would not have thought of asking Rachel who she wanted to see.

Raymond, Age 6

Even though this story does not involve any direct contact with a student, I wanted to include it because it left such a powerful impression on me. Carol, an experienced first-grade teacher, asked me to observe a student named Raymond. “He does some things that remind me of autistic kids I’ve had before, and I wanted to see what you thought.”

I visited Carol’s classroom a couple days later and took a seat in the back of the room. She discreetly informed me that Raymond was wearing a tan-colored shirt and sitting in the first row by the windows. Carol arranged the students in small groups to work on an art assignment. I observed several noteworthy behaviors during this 20-minute activity.

Raymond repeatedly turned away from other students and looked out the window during the observation period. He twirled his hair and wiggled his pencil between his thumb and forefinger, sometimes doing so for 30 seconds or more. I recognized all of these behaviors as common among children with autism. Disengaging from other students was a sign of social avoidance while hair twirling and pencil wiggling are forms of self-stimulation, stereotypic behavior, and perseveration.

Later that morning, Carol stopped by my office before her students returned from lunch and said, “Maybe you can come in again sometime because he didn’t do much when you were there this morning.” I asked what she meant and she elaborated, “I’m not saying I’m disappointed that he did better than usual, but I was hoping you could see some of the things that I’ve been concerned with.” I didn’t want to argue with her so I simply said, “Actually, I saw a few things that I think we should keep an eye on with Raymond.” As I discussed the behaviors of concern that I had observed earlier, Carol’s face changed from surprised to downright confused. After I finished, she asked me to walk back to the classroom with her. We stood by the door as the students filed into the classroom. Carol pointed to one of the students as he walked by and said, “That’s Raymond. Who did you observe?” Ouch. When I pointed to “my Raymond” a few seconds later, Carol told me that I had observed Nathan—an academically gifted student who was being considered for placement in third grade next year. Carol explained that despite her best efforts to keep Nathan busy and challenged, he daydreamed a lot in class because he was bored.

Lessons from Raymond

Embarrassing as it was, this incident taught me a powerful lesson about expectations, facts, and interpretations. When it comes to working with students referred for school behavior problems, we often end up seeing what we are looking for. Sure, I remember taking psychology classes that addressed the self-fulfilling prophecy—the idea that we are more likely to interpret facts and events in ways that support our preheld expectations. But personal experience is the best teacher, and my encounter with Raymond and Nathan left a lasting impression on me.

When I entered the classroom that morning, I was looking for autistic-like behavior. Lo and behold, that is exactly what I saw. I have no doubt that I would have interpreted Nathan’s behaviors differently had I known who I was observing. I could have just as easily viewed Nathan’s window gazing as the logical result of being bored by an unchallenging task instead of seeing it as symptomatic of social disengagement and attention problems. Likewise, hair twirling and pencil wiggling may be creative strategies for staying awake rather than signs of dysfunctional, stereotypic behavior.

Yogi Berra, a former New York Yankees baseball player and coach, was arguing with an umpire when he is reported to have said, “I wouldn’t have seen it if I hadn’t believed it.” While Yogi is known for infamous sayings that twist the language around in odd ways, my experience with Raymond suggests that Yogi may have been onto something with this one. The rule of science is that seeing is believing, but there is also some truth to Yogi’s statement that believing is seeing. Social psychologists call it confirmation bias and self-fulfilling prophecy—the tendency to perceive people and events in ways that fit our preexisting theories and expectations.

I saw what I was looking for in the classroom that morning in the same way that I see what I’m looking for when I sit down to talk with a student. Our decisions about what to look for when we interview students are driven by our beliefs and expectations. The good news is that these beliefs and expectations are choices, not facts. And some beliefs are more useful than others when it comes to building school solutions. This book encourages assumptions, beliefs, and expectations that focus on what is right with students rather than what is wrong with them.

Anna, Age 17

Anna was referred to me midway through her senior year when her grades and attendance began to drop. Her teachers said that she seemed more distant, apathetic, and “not herself” in recent weeks. Anna needed to pass all of her classes in order to graduate in May, which added an extra layer of urgency to the situation.

Anna enters the office and looks around at everything except me. “Do you know why your teachers wanted us to meet?” Anna says, “Because of my grades, I guess.”

“Yes, they’re concerned about your grades and attendance.” Anna shrugs and I add, “They said you’re capable of doing the work. Is that true?” Another shrug. We plod along this way for another 30 minutes—I’m doing the heavy lifting and Anna is along for the ride, tolerating my questions and dutifully serving out her counseling sentence.

A week has passed and I decide to lay my cards on the table. “Anna, I want to apologize for last week’s meeting.” Anna looks puzzled. “I jumped in and started asking about your classes and grades without ever asking what you wanted to discuss. That was rude and I’m sorry. I want to be useful to you and to work on things that are important to you. I hope you’ll give me another chance.”

Anna turns away for a few seconds. When she turns back, her eyes are filled with tears. “Everybody thinks I don’t care about school, but I do.” I nod and she continues. “I’m going through some things now and it’s hurting my schoolwork. It’s hard to talk about.”

I decide not to push. “Anna, what we talk about here is your choice.” She takes a deep breath. “My boyfriend and I are fighting and it ...