My student was trying to act like he wasn’t smart. He told his parents that being smart meant not having cool friends. When test time came, he simply made random patterns with the bubbles on his standardized test, scoring one of the lowest scores in the sixth-grade class. The following year, he made a fresh start by earning one of the highest scores on the pretest. I knew I was in for a fight or, rather, a battle that would culminate with a full-on war to maintain. One I hoped to win.
The story is similar when I call on a beautiful, "popular" girl to read aloud. She shoots me a look of disbelief that I dare call on her. “Yes, I know how well you read, please share some of that ‘beauty’ with the class,” I say. She mumbles through a poem by Robert Frost. Not beautiful.
This is when we see the impact of peer pressure on the entire culture of a classroom. Does a teacher have the power to sway the focus of the class?
The examples go on. Intelligent students intentionally call out wrong answers or give answers that they know make no sense. Then they look mischievously and eagerly around to see if the “cool” kids are noticing them. I look around my room too. Some students don't get the exchange. Other students’ eyes roll in disgust or annoyance. As I scan the room, I realize that my cool distracters are not looking at my studious, eager students. They are invisible even though they are right next to them.
As the school year continues, this exchange is less frequent. I think that after having parent conferences, it will reduce even more. Parents value learning more than coolness. But the adult voices are nearly silent in the pool of other influences, including the media, individual insecurities and the grind of hard work.
However, just knowing which of my students are purposely performing poorly to make or keep friends has given me a bit of advantage. I want to share that advantage with teachers and parents.
But most important, I am sharing it with the students.
“I know your secret,” I tell my cool student. “You are not alone. Some of your cool friends are just like you.” He looks perplexed but grins that same mischievous grin.
Then comes a victory. He secretly tells me he did all his homework and lets his friend see the 100 percent he earned on his test. “Oh, you did good,” his friend coos.
My cool kid grins, but this time it’s not mischievously but proudly. Now I feel like I’m ready for the war.
Rucker is an elementary school teacher in California.
