The day we walked hand in hand into school

“At the beginning of class it takes ten minutes before everyone sits down, becomes quiet, and lets me start the lesson.”

I’ve said that sentence more times than I’d like to admit. I’ve complained about it in the teacher's lounge, to parents, and I’ve confronted learners with it. Told them it was disrespectful. Tried to train routines into my students to prevent it.

And once, a moment I still remember vividly, I took it even further.

I told one of my groups of fourteen-year-olds:
“If this happens again tomorrow, we will go outside. You will stand in pairs. Hand in hand, we will walk back into the building, pass multiple other classrooms, you will sit down in silence, get your books out, and only then will we start the lesson. If it isn’t quiet, we’ll go back out and try again.”

The next day… it happened. Chaos. Bags everywhere. Voices everywhere.
So we left the classroom. Fourteen-year-olds, hand in hand, lining up outside the school.
We walked back in. In silence. No jokes, or resistance.

I only had to do it once. The whole school heard about it. And for the rest of the week, all my classes were wonderfully calm. It worked.

I knew why it worked. Not because of the routine, or because of the silence. Not because fourteen-year-olds suddenly discovered the value of entering a room neatly.
It worked because I used peer pressure and embarrassment.

An experience they absolutely didn’t want to repeat. I created a moment that pushed them into compliance.

And yes, it was effective. But it didn’t last.
And the reason was simple: I was telling them what was expected, but I wasn’t connecting with them on a why-level. And I’m not talking about ‘Why do you need to be respectful?’ I’m talking about: ‘Do you feel why this upcoming lesson matters to you?’ 

So when I catch myself thinking,
'Why does it take ten minutes before we can begin?'
I try to ask different questions instead:
'Is the coming hour meaningful enough to them? Are they curious enough to want to begin? Do they feel they belong here?'

Because when those three things are in place:  curiosity, purpose, and belonging, learners don’t wait for my routines. They create them. They shape the start of the lesson themselves because they want to get going.

Top-down routines can work for a while.
I’ve seen it.
I’ve done it.
But they require constant maintenance, constant reminders, constant (negative) energy.

Bottom-up routines grow from something deeper. From learners who know why they are here. From mutual expectations, not imposed expectations. From motivation, not management. They also require maintenance, and reminders but they carry learners’ own ownership and my positive energy, and because of that, they last. Potentially for a lifetime.

And if I’m honest, this has become my burnout medicine, for myself and for my learners.

Greetings,

Rob Houben

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