By Robin C. Harris
One fall day in the 1960s, as principal of an elementary school in the California foothills, I found myself at a school administrators meeting in the classroom of a first-grade teacher. As we were settling into the meeting and I was already squirming in my little Fisher-Price chair, my attention was drawn to the chalkboard, above which was a row of little yellow teddy bears on a bed of drifted snow. Each little bear bore the name of a child.
This could have been nothing more than a cute way to observe the coming of winter. But there was something terribly wrong here. Some of the teddies were missing arms or legs. Emily was quadriplegic. Billy had no head.
“What in the world is this?” I asked the teacher, who was passing a plate of cookies.
She smiled proudly. “This is how we keep track of our citizenship. We used to have a point system, we tried stars, we tried writing names on the board, but this is so much more meaningful. When someone misbehaves, I remove a little of his teddy bear.”
Meaningful, indeed it was. But it was certainly not conveying the meaning she intended.
“So then, what do you do with the pieces you tear off?”
“I throw them away,” she replied in a tone which seemed to indicate that this was a stupid question.
I was aghast.
The body parts were gone. The whole vulgar display was irrevocable. There was no hope of redemption here. Those wonderful 6 year olds would have to sit and look at themselves each day in their respective degrees of amputation/decapitation.
“But come spring,” the teacher continued brightly, “everyone gets a new chance. They will all be trees, covered with new, green leaves.”
Would they then lose their leaves and branches, I wondered—ending, perhaps, as stumps?
This was not one of my teachers. Her school was hosting the meeting, and her own principal was there, as well. And I was a young upstart, not even 30 years old. I could not conveniently or tactfully suggest that this sordid attempt at motivation was probably the most abusive tactic I had ever observed.
At that time, we had already begun to climb from the dark ages of negative reinforcement; yet throughout the succeeding couple of decades, schools were still using corporal punishment. We haven’t been enlightened very long, after all.
Today, numerous reinforcers have emerged in the classroom. With slight modification they are adaptable for use at home, for one child or a few. Perhaps the most effective one currently in use consists of a colorful chart of laminated poster board about a foot wide and perhaps 4 feet high, and a number of clothespins — each one bearing the name of a child in the classroom. The chart is divided into seven sections; the middle section is green, those above it are in progressively warmer colors (yellow, orange and red), and those below in more somber shades. Each day begins with all the clothespins attached to the green section, which is clearly labeled “Ready to Learn.”
The wording on the remaining sections varies slightly from one room to another, but the upper ones, the positives, read progressively: “Good Day,” Excellent,” Outstanding.” The lower ones read: “Think About It,” “Teacher Choice” and “Parent Contact.” The teacher may quietly ask a compliant and industrious student to move his clip up one section, or (perhaps in exasperation) to ask another to move his clip down. Redemption is possible throughout the day. “Emily, you may move your clip back up now.” By the end of the day, the clips are all over the place, but hopefully the greater number are toward the top of the chart. It is clearly effective: Individual children know where they stand, and the class as a whole gets a picture of their daily performance. Each school day dawns anew, with all of the clips back in the center section.
Various additional motivators are used by some teachers. Individual facsimiles of the chart, colored by the student, show respective daily performance and are sent home at the end of the week, sometimes with an appropriate comment by the teacher: “Alice had a good week!” or “This was a difficult week for Tommy.”
Peer motivation is provided when classroom rules provide for a reward — maybe a party or a field trip after a given number of clips, over a period of time, have been accumulated at the top of the chart.
To adapt this system for use at home with a few modifications is relatively simple. The chart may bear alternate wording. Because “Ready to Learn” is probably not your goal at home, you may substitute something of a general nature, such as “A New Day!” While the positives may remain the same, the bottom two negatives will need to be changed, perhaps to: “Mom and Dad are Disappointed” and “Loss of Privilege.”
You now have many ways in which to use this. The criteria will depend primarily upon the standards you as a family, are trying to engender. Do not, however, factor in negative reports from school. That’s double jeopardy. Moreover, this is an individual device. Do not use it competitively.
As to rewards, the system will be more meaningful if your children participate in deciding ahead of time what their reward may be. Thus, they are working toward something they really want. A daily reward might be something as simple as a sweet after dinner or an extra 30 minutes of television (OK, maybe not that). A cumulative reward could be trip to the cinema. The sky’s the limit.
This simple program, used with care and love, can be clear in its purpose, effective and fun.
Robin C. Harris, an 18-year resident of Lake County, is the author of “Journeys out of Darkness, Adventures in Foster Care.” A retired educator, he is a substitute teacher for Lake County schools and has recently completed two works of fiction for children and teens. He is available for tutoring in first through eighth grades. Harris can be contacted at harris.tke@att.net.
