She Didn't Say We Couldn't

There are so many things that I love about being a STEM teacher. I love seeing students collaborate. I love watching their perseverance and persistence when their ideas are failing. I love the sounds of celebration when they succeed. But if I had to pick the thing I love the most, it would probably be eavesdropping on their conversations.

STEM lessons, at least with my students, tend to be noisy. Despite reminders to use whisper voices, modeling what a STEM lesson should sound like, and using volume measurers (like red lights, bouncyballs.org, and others), my lessons are not exactly quiet. Of course, with 25 children sharing their ideas, building together, groaning when their ideas don't work, and cheering when they do, that's to be expected. More importantly, their talking is both focused on and integral to successful collaboration.

As I listen in to these conversations, I am always impressed by how thoughtful students are in developing their plans, and how articulate they can be in explaining them. Listening to primary grade students as they evaluate a design flaw and make intelligent suggestions about what to modify never ceases to amaze me. Again and again, as I circulate the room, I hear, "I have an idea!"

But my absolute favorite thing to hear are the words, "She didn't say we couldn't."

Constraints are an important part of any STEM challenge. By definition, the constraints are restrictive (i.e. you have 20 minutes to complete this task, you must use all of the materials provided, you may not tape the structure to the building surface). When my youngest students are introduced to STEM, they sometimes become frustrated by the constraints. Often they are nervous about what is or is not allowed, so they ask before any move they make. "Mrs. M, is it okay if....? Mrs. M, can we...?" Mrs. M, are we allowed to...?" My response is always the same: What are the constraints?

The first time one of my daring and bold young engineers says it, it is usually in a whisper meant only for his or her group. I may not hear the suggestion that preceded it, but I'll hear the hushed and hesitant, "Well...she didn't say we couldn't." Then the group quietly, covertly, tries something that they are pretty sure they shouldn't. And I hide my smile. They've found a way to work outside the box, but within the constraints. At the end of the lesson when we're sharing, I praise the uniqueness of their idea, and the other students begin to realize that there are "loopholes."

Eventually, "She didn't say we couldn't," is said with a completely different tone. It's said with confidence. It's said with an air of, "We can try it. We don't even have to ask. It's not a constraint!" And I love it. Because now I'm not just teaching children or budding engineers, I'm teaching innovative risk-takers. And those risk-taking innovators have the potential to change the world we live in.

Have I mentioned that I love my job? <3

Image by Olichel Adamovich from Pixabay