Courtesy of the National Library of Medicine |
Last year I served as a jury foreman on a medical malpractice suit, and this concept of "first, do no harm" came up repeatedly. Of the 12 jurors and 2 alternates, I think 4 of us were educators. The prosecution lawyer on behalf of the deceased patient regularly invoked this phrase, asking if what the doctor prescribed for his patient was really in the patient's best interest if it possibly led to his death. The lawyer asked us, "Did the doctor violate the concept of 'first, do no harm?'" Recently, I started thinking of what our binding agreement might be to our students. What should they commonly expect of all of us? Maybe this phrase could be adopted by educators. Or maybe it's too passive because it implies a position of doing nothing, possibly. Maybe we need a phrase that demands action.
From the English teacher perspective, I immediately applied "first, do no harm" to comments on students' essays. It's like Kurtz's warning to Marlowe in Heart of Darkness as Marlowe made his way up the river: "Hurry up. Approach cautiously." We want to get this grading done. We have other things to do. But if we're too careless, too emotional in our comments, we can do harm. Should we express to our students how mad we are that they still don't understand MLA format? Should we tell them that using 2nd person makes us physically ill? In this case, the maxim is one to which we should be attentive. Let's not make our students feel terrible. But where else might this phrase be relevant to educators?
Courtesy of the University of Tasmania |
I considered this as I thought about my curriculum for the second semester. Our first assigned essay is in the genre of "Evaluation." So, at this point, I just dare my students to ask, "Why do we need to know this?"
As teachers, the Danielson Model is one familiar to many of us. Additionally, the concept of student achievement being tied to our evaluations is relevant. In Illinois, we have been made very aware of how our jobs will be affected by student performance. My school currently has committees whose job is to determine the most effective criteria for linking student performance to teacher evaluations. Is it tests we construct? Is it standardized tests? Are we judged against Illinois teachers? The nation? If our jobs literally depend on giving the best instruction in the most effective way, how will we know when we need to change? Well, it's through feedback from our observations. Could evaluators learn from "first, do no harm?"
I'm torn on this one. I've been an Instructional Coach for 7 years, working with first- and second-year teachers in our district on becoming more effective teachers. "Do no harm" seems to suggest that administrators shouldn't offer harsh criticism. If the reports are accurate, and so many teachers leave the profession in the first 4 years, could those teachers have benefited from honest--possibly brutally honest--feedback? I think so. To suggest to a teacher that "guided PowerPoint notes in a dark classroom may not be the most effective teaching strategy" is to tell an aspiring comedian that knock-knock jokes could be seen as passé from adults. We're all better than that, right? So "do no harm" may not best serve administrators observing teachers. But let's bring it back to the students.
What if we discover that a student's public Twitter account is bashing teachers, bullying other students, or posting activity that is possibly or credibly illegal, do we step in? If we are not creepily following a student but are made aware of incendiary comments, when do we get involved? When our feelings are hurt? When we expect the feelings of others are threatened? Is the "do no harm" concept applicable here? I say no. "Harm" is negotiable. Is getting caught "harm"? Is getting parents or even authorities involved "harm"? Only to the perpetrator. A student offering the remarks may view "harm" as ratting them out. This is a situation of action, not the passivity of doing nothing. Maybe the phrase here leads with the action verb: "prevent harm." But that seems irrelevant as to why we become teachers.
One of our school's philosophies resides in our freshman academy: "Do whatever it takes." It may seem desperate. It may seem like it burdens teachers with playing the roles of parents or counselors. But could it be more noble than that? What if "whatever it takes" were just "whatever the best practice is that will reach our students?" If they don't get it the first time, maybe we teach a different way. If the pre-assessment shows that they aren't ready for what we're doing, maybe we spend 2 days catching them up. "Whatever it takes" might actually make sense here.
The more I think about it, I need a verb that sets the student up for learning. Something positive. Something that shows action. Nike's "Just do it" isn't what I have in mind. If it were an essay or a speech, I'd want something more for my students than just doing it.
"Trust me." Yes, the focus here is on me and not my students, but I feel like this phrase will remind me to bring my students the best practices I can research, or the most direct reasons for our current course of study. If I give students feedback, I want them to trust that I have their development as a writer in mind with every comment. This phrase may work for administrators, too. Is this meeting necessary? Trust me. Do I really deserve a "needs improvement" in classroom management? Trust me.
There's no doubt that we shouldn't be harming our students. We shouldn't make them feel dumb, we shouldn't treat them as if they are hopeless. But what do we want to have happen in our classrooms? For me, I want students to trust me. Whether it's taking a chance on writing a whole new conclusion, getting in front of the class to speak, or studying why we need to evaluate our Internet sources, I want students to trust that I have thought about this already. That I know they need this information. So it should be implicit that we will "do no harm," but I want it to be shared explicitly that my students can trust that I have their best interests in mind with every comment, every lesson, every unit.
Oh, and in the spirit of full disclosure, I took two years of Latin at Brother Rice High School in Chicago, so I feel like I got my money's worth with this post.
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