In the classroom, you can have phenomenal content knowledge (strategy), amazing lesson plans (tactics), but if you don’t have your logistics in place, you might as well be a seat-warmer for all the effect you’ll have on your students.

Logistics in the classroom take the form of procedures and rituals. This can range from how you pass out papers to how you grade; from how students find their seats to the way you manage student behavior.

Last year, I had to have a talk with my 4th period class. Their entry into the classroom was sloppy and they were taking several minutes to really get going on the work at hand. We spent about 10 minutes brainstorming a proper procedure for classroom entry, then continued on. One student asked why we had wasted so much time talking about this, and so we did the math.

The class estimated that they weren’t getting down to business until 3 minutes after the bell on average — not too bad, they thought. But once we started doing the multiplication, their assessment changed. This startup delay meant that in just one week, we would lose 15 minutes of class time. Over a quarter, that became 2 hours and 15 minutes. Over the course of the year, that would total up to 9 hours.

The students (mostly) agreed: 10 minutes is a worthwhile investment to try to reclaim 9 hours. Left to themselves, classrooms will bleed time, and it’s nearly always worth stopping to treat the wound.

Anything that is repeated needs a procedure. Tasks that occur daily need to become rituals — procedures that the students know how to carry out blindfolded and which they feel are important. Training students in procedures is a lot like voting in Chicago — do it early, do it often.

Notice that I used the word “training” in place of procedures back there.  I’ve come to the conclusion that teachers, particularly middle-school teachers, have two jobs in the classroom. The first is the one that gets all the attention: teaching the content. With our focus on right answers on one particular day, we practically require teachers to think of nothing but getting through the content.

But I think we’re also in the business of training students in how to handle themselves in school and in life. This is best done by creating procedures that, when followed properly, mimic the world outside the school and enhance classroom efficiency. With these predictable structures in place, students know what to expect, and content teaching becomes dramatically more efficient.

That’s the idea, anyway. Getting there is much harder than it looks!

Jeremy Sebens is a 2010 WW Indiana Teaching Fellow and taught at Harshman Magnet Middle School in Indianapolis.

On the first days of the school year, students introduce themselves, but with their personas in full effect — the image they want to project to the world. But at some point, the masks fall. Only then can we get to know one another.

Last year, on my very first day teaching, in my very first period of 7th-graders, I had a student that I immediately decided I needed to keep an eye on. I’d seen this one in the hall, wearing a perfectly shaped hat two sizes too big, with pants as close to sagging as a kid could get away with. With a large and sparkly earring, this student would, a few weeks later, claim the middle name of “Gangsta.” I was, quite frankly, worried.

So when this student was the only volunteer from the sleepy first-period crowd to write ideas from the class on the board, I was pleased — here was a chance to size the youngster up. I am chagrined to admit my surprise at how well the 7th-grader handled the class — extracting ideas, keeping the discussion rolling, and in general, giving every indication of being born to teach.

The next day, the student pulled me aside and told me about an idea to get the class to share thoughts, which I told the kid to run with. The student organized the class into two teams and extracted one statement from each person in just a few minutes. This student is an asset in any crowd, and is ever-sensitive to others.

I suppose the point of this vignette is this: as you get to know students, be sure that you’re getting to know the person, not the persona. Be aware of the mask, but the person behind it will surprise you more often than not.

In retrospect, had I watched a little more closely, I might not have been so worried. Remember the impeccably maintained, backwards-facing, oversized ball cap I mentioned before? It’s an Elmo hat.

PS: To the student described here: If you’re reading this, you know who you are. Thanks for the surprise!

Jeremy Sebens is a 2010 WW Indiana Teaching Fellow and taught at Harshman Magnet Middle School in Indianapolis.