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Faculty Focus | Higher Ed Teaching & Learning

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I was recently asked by a friend and colleague to review her syllabus. She wanted to make sure she had enough policies to address all the classroom issues that now emerge. Policies regarding plagiarism, class cancellation procedures, references to various official university handbook codes, and even mandated contingencies for an H1N1 virus outbreak were dutifully laid out. Indeed, the syllabus, despite some mention of the course itself, read far more like a legal document than an introduction and a guide to a classroom experience.

My colleague reported that this is what she had been told to include on the syllabus, and she was eager to do what was expected. Still, I sensed she was not totally comfortable with what her syllabus had become. For example, her section on the college's process for handling plagiarism was itself twice as long as her succinct description of the actual course material and how the students might be expected to engage in it.

As I listened to her struggle to explain and justify the various policies, I began asking questions, gently and in good humor, about the loopholes-the ones that in my experience some students have keen ways of navigating to their perceived advantage. Was a roommate's grandmother's recurrent illness a "genuine emergency"? What constituted an "outbreak" of a virus? Were all students who appear to have cheated to be treated identically and absolutely? It quickly became clear that while fair policies are desirable and necessary, no policy can address any and all eventualities; and none are immune to student attempts at circumvention.

"So, what do we do?" my colleague asked. Even though I've struggled with these issues, I was a bit surprised by the first response that came to me.

"We need to remain vulnerable; and we need to celebrate our vulnerabilities as teachers."

Now that I've had bit of time to reflect, I've decided that it was a good response. If I am not willing to be vulnerable to my students, I am not able to teach them. There are risks here-and not just a few, and not just those associated with our policies and their loopholes. Being vulnerable is the inevitable result of the trust we must have in our students, as we expect to teach and learn from them and with them in every respect.

I recently had a student who was missing classes and not submitting work. In a supportive spirit, I invited him for a talk. I explained that I really wanted to help him pass the course. Surprised that his performance was in such peril, he replied that he needed to pass the course-he was graduating that semester. Then he explained that he had just been diagnosed with cancer. Now I was really concerned and shaken. We, of course, stopped talking about course-related concerns and discussed his prognosis, his fears, his challenges, and the like. My student did not yet know too many details. That evening I called a friend who had won a battle with the same cancer and spoke with him at length, taking notes as to the options under various circumstances and so forth.

The next day on my way to class, I saw at a distance my cancer-stricken student, walking happily and joking with his friends. Soon he came to my office to discuss makeup work and so forth. I readily accommodated his requests. When I mentioned that I had talked at length with a friend who had a similar diagnosis, my student appeared sheepish and said he had to hurry or he'd be late for class. Not wanting to impose, I told him I was always available and that I hoped to see him soon.

He got the makeup work done. Considering his stress, his performance in the class was admirable: He more than passed the course. I distributed his final grade sheet last, hoping that would give me a chance to inquire as to how he was doing. It was then, more sheepish than ever, that he informed me that he had been misdiagnosed and was in fact fine after all.

I'll let you draw your own conclusions about what happened in this case.

But the more important question is this: Would you as a teacher do anything differently if faced with a similar situation down the road?

I have affirmed that I would not. The benefits of being vulnerable as a teacher far outweigh the risks.

I need my students to know that I care about what we are working on together, and thus I care about them, even though I risk being taken advantage of. I want them to take risks when they approach learning new material and, to encourage them, I need to model such risk-taking myself, even as it leaves me open to criticism. No syllabus can ever make the classroom totally safe for teachers, and maybe we should not be so invested in trying to make it so. Ultimately, for every student who negatively takes advantage of our openness, there will be scores more who thrive because of it.

I have long argued that our students need not "like" us, except to the extent that their affection facilitates their trust in us. I also believe that students do not resent it when we challenge them with higher expectations, as long as they trust that we are fair and open. And in order for them to trust me, I must trust them-as foolish as I may, or may not, appear when I am duped.

Because, far more often than not, vulnerability provides what's necessary for teachers and students to excel.
Dr. Robert Dornsife is an associate professor in the Department of English at Creighton University.
Reprinted from The Teaching Professor, 26.10 (2012): 1,6. © Magna Publications.

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I was recently asked by a friend and colleague to review her syllabus. She wanted to make sure she had enough policies to address all the classroom issues that now emerge. Policies regarding plagiarism, class cancellation procedures, references to various official university handbook codes, and even mandated contingencies for an H1N1 virus outbreak were dutifully laid out.

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Mentally strong people don't hide their true nature behind a veil of secrecy. If you find it difficult to accept yourself, please consider these seven benefits of being vulnerable.

1. You will learn to appreciate the quirks that make you unique.

Being vulnerable will help you embrace the strange (interesting) and quirky (unique) things that make you special. While you might call certain personal characteristics are "awkward," they are only awkward if you don't accept yourself, and consequentially feel uncomfortable in who you are. We are all crazy in our own ways; and if you're going to be weird, you might as well be confident about it.

2. You will make peace with troubling memories from your past.

Being vulnerable will help you get rid of pent-up baggage that bothers you. While it isn't easy to deal with painful memories, it is better to confront your past than it is to hide from it. We all have made bad decisions we regret, so don't even think about judging yourself; search for a lesson or takeaway that will help you prevent similar mistakes in the future and let it go.

3. You will attract the right kind of people into your life.

Being vulnerable will help you understand what types of people you can most relate to. While you might be tempted to hang out with whoever crosses your path, it is better to choose your friends carefully. We all have made the mistake of telling something personal to somebody we shouldn't have, and ended up getting hurt due to backstabbing or betrayal; it is good to love all people without question, it is best to only put total faith in true friends worthy of trust.

4. You will find it easier to empathize with the struggles of others.

Being vulnerable will help you develop empathy for others. While it's easy to throw a fit when something terrible happens to us, it is a lot harder to demonstrate compassion for the struggles of another person. We all have been guilty of getting so caught up in our own lives that we forget the world doesn't revolve around our needs; before behaving like an upset infant, remember that many people face hardships that you couldn't begin to imagine.

5. You will earn the trust of people at work.

Being vulnerable will help you grow closer to the people in your workplace. While you might think you deserve a raise just because of your hard work, you need to remember that no amount of book smarts can make up for a complete lack of emotional intelligence. We all have complained about getting "passed up" for a promotion; before assuming you're "under-appreciated," take an honest look at your ability to communicate and work together with your fellow co-workers.

6. You will strengthen your bond with your romantic partner.

Being vulnerable will help you bond with the person you love most. While you might be afraid to reveal your deepest and darkest secrets due to a fear of judgement, doing so will put your mind at ease. We all have put up barriers to protect ourselves from getting hurt; but if you hope to spend the rest of your life with a particular person, don't you think it would be best to be forthcoming with the important truths that they would like to know?

7. You will humanize yourself in the eyes of others.

Being vulnerable will help you demonstrate that you are an approachable person who is kind and considerate. While it isn't easy to find the courage to reveal our true nature, there is no better way to encourage others to accept themselves. We all have fought with a lack of esteem at one time or another, and I'm not excluded. While I have made strides forward, there are still some days where I wonder why anybody would care about what I have to say; and other days, I worry that I might never meet a person who truly understands me. I don't say that to moan and groan, but rather to emphasize that I am a human just like you. I accept myself, flaws and all, because positive change cannot come from a place of self-loathing. I hope these benefits of being vulnerable will inspire you to do the same. Please share this article with any friends you think would be helped by it.

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Accept Yourself (Flaws and All): 7 Benefits of Being Vulnerable

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Mentally strong people don't hide their true nature behind a veil of secrecy. If you find it difficult to accept yourself, please consider these seven benefits of being vulnerable. Being vulnerable will help you embrace the strange (interesting) and quirky (unique) things that make you special.

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vulnerability | Definition of vulnerability in English by Oxford Dictionaries

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Definition of vulnerability - the quality or state of being exposed to the possibility of being attacked or harmed, either physically or emotionally

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1-Sentence-Summary: Daring Greatly is a book about having the courage to be vulnerable in a world where everyone wants to appear strong, confident and like they know what they're doing. Favorite quote from the author:
Read in: 4 minutes

This sure was a surprise hit for me. First of all, if you don't know Brené Brown, she's a social worker, researcher, PhD and explorer of all things human, especially topics, or rather feelings, like courage, vulnerability and shame. Her TED talk sits smack behind Simon Sinek's Start With Why on the top TED talks of all time list with 25 million views.

This book, one of her three New York Times bestsellers, explains how vulnerability is at the core of all feelings - not just bad ones like fear, anxiety and shame, but also good ones like love, joy, and passion.

She says that we could all use a little more vulnerability in our lives, because it's neither bad nor good. It just is, and embracing it means being courageous.

1. Vulnerability means strength, not weakness.

2. Understand and verbalize your shame to make it go away.

3. Children can only become who you are, so be a role model.

Here are 3 lessons about vulnerability and how you can be courageous enough to step into it when you fear it the most:

Are you willing to open up and let this book into your life? I hope you are, because Brené's ideas are very powerful.

Lesson 1: If you can be vulnerable, it means you're strong.

1. Vulnerability isn't good or bad. It's not a black and white subject. It's just a part of life and if you experience it, it means you're able to feel things.

2. Allowing yourself to actually be vulnerable is a sign of strength and courage. It's a lot easier to avoid the things that might make you vulnerable, rather than lean into them. But that also means we're missing out on a lot of good things.

First, Brené makes two core points about vulnerability.

For example, if you've ever loved someone you know that being in love makes you very vulnerable. You allow someone into your heart and give them incredible power, which includes the power to hurt you. But only if you accept this state of vulnerability do you have a shot at all the love, joy and kindness you might experience from that relationship. This means vulnerability isn't just the source of pain and grief, but also the root of many positive emotions.

Note: I'm getting coffee with a girl I haven't really seen in six years today. I was in love with her in high school and it scares the shit out of me to see her again. But if I don't go I'll never know why, so my best bet is to go there, be vulnerable, show myself and see what's to come.

Second, you could hide from the things that make you vulnerable. The responsibility for a project at work. The girl or guy you haven't seen in forever. The art you want to create. But you know that's a cop out. Leaning into vulnerability is something only the strong, the truly courageous can do.

Lesson 2: Build a resilience to shame by understanding it and saying it out loud.

What's worse than completely bombing a speaking gig? Being ashamed about bombing a speaking gig and never doing one again.

There's a quote that goes "Failure is temporary, giving up is what makes it permanent." Shame is what makes you give up.

"I'm ashamed that I wasn't there for my son when he was little."

"I'm ashamed I didn't try harder at being a good wedding planner."

"I'm ashamed at work, because my co-workers talk about me behind my back."

Have you thought any of these? Or other variations? I bet you have. But have you said them? Try it. I just did this morning. There's a certain level of ridicule to be found in every single shame you express. Pinpointing what actually makes you feel ashamed and saying it out loud takes a lot of power from shame.

Nobody wants to talk about shame. It's uncomfortable. But the less you do, the more power it has. Instead, pull at it. Drag it out. Throw it into the light. And address it directly. You'll see things aren't as worrisome as they seem and that you can live past failure.

Lesson 3: Be a role model for your (future) kids, it's the only way they learn.

Whether you have kids or not, I thought this was worth taking away. Your children can only inherit qualities you possess yourself.

If you're sloppy, your children will be sloppy. If you're organized, your children will be organized. And if you're constantly shame-ridden, you'll traumatize your kids by making them feel the same.

If you've been bullied, threatened or otherwise traumatized as a kid, you know that most childhood trauma comes from shame. Shame about an event, behavior, or even just about how others have treated us.

Therefore, it's your job to make your home and family a shame-free zone. It's the only way your kids will grow up feeling worthy, loved and able to truly be themselves.

Instead of talking about values like honesty, courage and ambition, live them. Be honest. Be courageous. Be ambitious. The best thing you can do for your kids, born or not, is to be a role model. It's all the parenting they need.

My personal take-aways

I think the reason Brené's TED talk and work responds with so many people is that she went through all of the struggles she describes herself. When she first discovered that vulnerability was at the core of any life, especially any good life - she broke down. Researchers and scientists aren't exactly out to be vulnerable. They're trying to measure things so they can predict the future better. That's quite the opposite, so it took some time for her to deal with this new situation and data.

You can feel that in her talks and writing. She's not a bullshit artist. She's seen the dark side. And she's here to tell us not only that we have to do too, but that we can and that it'll be okay.

A wonderful person to learn from. Highly recommended.

Read full summary on Blinkist >>

Learn more about the author >>

The true definition of fear and why it's harmful to us

Why shame is part of our modern culture rat race

How to improve your relationships by being vulnerable

What you can do to stop hiding your vulnerability

How shame poisons workplaces, schools and families

Why leaders should encourage vulnerability

What else can you learn from the blinks?

Who would I recommend the Daring Greatly summary to?

The 15 year old, shy schoolboy, who's being bullied, the 25 year old mother of this boy, and anyone who never talks about what they're ashamed of.

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Daring Greatly Summary - Four Minute Books

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1-Sentence-Summary: Daring Greatly is a book about having the courage to be vulnerable in a world where everyone wants to appear strong, confident and like they know what they're doing. Favorite quote from the author: Read in: 4 minutes This sure was a surprise hit for me.

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"What makes you vulnerable makes you beautiful." ~Brene Brown
Vulnerability has never been my strong suit. It's no wonder. In order to be vulnerable, you have to be okay with all of you. That's the thing about vulnerability that no one tells you about.

Being vulnerable is not just about showing the parts of you that are shiny and pretty and fun. It's about revealing what you deny or keep hidden from other people. We all do this to some extent. I bet you've never said to a friend, "Oh my god, I just love that I'm insecure."

But that's the point, isn't it? You've got to love everything, if you want to be vulnerable by choice.

Most of us have probably experienced vulnerability through default. More often than not, we are either forced into that state through conflict, or we are surprised by it after our circumstances feel more comfortable.
Few of us consciously choose vulnerability. Why? The stakes are too high.
If we reveal our authentic selves, there is the great possibility that we will be misunderstood, labeled, or worst of all, rejected. The fear of rejection can be so powerful that some wear it like armor.

My first real experience with vulnerability came when I was twenty-five.

I had just accepted a position as a literature teacher of juniors and seniors at a local high school. This was quite possibly the most intimidating situation I had ever gotten myself into thus far. We're talking teenagers here, the most extraterrestrial of all age groups!

To make matters worse, I asked my parents for advice. Being longtime elementary school teachers, my parents had a plethora of horror stories to share about unruly students, unreasonable parents, and teachers who could not control their classrooms.

Each story ended with, "And that's why she quit and ended up going into retail."

I didn't want to be a quitter, so I listened well when they told me that I needed to be strong from the get-go, that I needed to show my students who was boss.

In the words of my father, "You can be a bitch and work your way down to nice, but you can't be nice and work your way up to being strong."

I took my parents' advice to heart. In the first week, I flunked seventy-five percent of my students on the summer reading exam. I yelled a lot to control the classroom environment.

And when my students would complain about an assignment, I would say to them, "Remember, this class is not a democracy, it's a monarchy and guess who's queen?"

When I read those words now, I can't help but cringe.
But at the time, I believed vulnerability was a liability. I was okay with being the dragon lady. It was safe.
And under that façade, no one knew how terrified I actually was. So I wore that armor as if my life depended on it.

If I had my way, I would have kept my guard up for the rest of that year. But my students were much smarter than me. They must have known on some level that, in the presence of true vulnerability, no one could remain closed off.

Perhaps no event demonstrated this better than when the senior honors project was in jeopardy.

It was not traditional curriculum, and thus it came under scrutiny. My seniors were visibly upset because they had worked so hard on their group papers, and they were looking forward to their presentations in which faculty from the school as well as from the university would be present.

When they expressed their feelings so honestly and openly, I could not turn away. Now, I wanted to fight not only for the project but for the students themselves.

When I thought we would have no choice but to abandon the whole thing, I remember telling my students that I wanted to quit. For the first time, I was very honest with them about how I was feeling and what I wanted for them.
I was, perhaps, the most vulnerable I had been all year. And that moment of vulnerability paid off big time.
When I left the school at the end of the year, I received many letters from my students. In them, I discovered that they were touched by the fact that I had fought so hard for them, that I was honest with them, and that I believed in them so passionately.

At the time, I probably said to the universe something like, "Ah! You tricked me! This was supposed to be just a temporary job until my real life began. I wasn't supposed to invest in anyone or be committed to anything or care about anyone."

But I was very connected to these students long before I even knew I was. Needless to say, they got their senior project. But I received something so much greater. I learned what vulnerability looked like and felt like. And I was the recipient of all its rewards.

Over the years, I have continued to experience that place of vulnerability. I cannot say that all my experiences have come through choice, but I do try to enter that state as much as I can.

While I am far from being an expert on this subject, I have come to some conclusions that I hope will be meaningful to those who want to choose vulnerability:

1. Vulnerability is so much easier when you love yourself.

Think about it. When you don't love all of you and are afraid to show people the less than stellar parts, the space between you and vulnerability is like the Grand Canyon. You will need all the courage you can get to make the leap across.

But when you love yourself, and I mean all of you, you don't worry so much if someone else doesn't. And when you're less afraid of rejection, you step right into that place of openness.

2. Vulnerability takes practice.

You don't just learn it once and then-ta-dah!-you're easily open to everything and everyone. My experience at the high school was very profound, but even now, many years later, I still have moments where I'm more guarded and less willing to share the real me.

Thank goodness life continues to give me opportunities to consciously choose openness. And most times, I do.

3. The rewards of vulnerability are immeasurable.

When I have chosen to be open, to show my authentic self, my students have met me there. And when they've met me there and formed that connection, there's nothing they can't accomplish.

With vulnerability, you experience true connection-true love for yourself-and you begin to attract people to you who are inspired by your openness.

While it's not easy to be vulnerable, you'd be surprised how loving all of you and then sharing it with another can help you to connect with anyone. In my own life, I'm continuing to open up to my students.

I've been showing them a little more of the complexity that is me. They now know the ugly truth that I don't do math. They know that whenever I need to half a recipe, my twelve-year-old nephew does the fractions for me.

Shameful? Perhaps. But you know what? I like that girl and in the end, so do my students.

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How Being Vulnerable Can Expand Your World

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"What makes you vulnerable makes you beautiful." ~Brene Brown Vulnerability has never been my strong suit. It's no wonder. In order to be vulnerable, you have to be okay with all of you. That's the thing about vulnerability that no one tells you about.

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It takes more courage and less time to admit you don't have the answer then to pretend you do.

For most aspiring teachers, writing a Philosophy of Education is not only a requirement, but a pedagogical rite of passage.

I remember, 15 years ago, in the swarms of early May, littering my philosophy with the theories of Skinner, Maslow and Erickson and thinking (albeit foolishly) I had arrived as a teacher. I thought that because I could regurgitated theories and infuse chic educational language into my philosophy I was bound for classroom success.

But 15 years later, 3 high schools later, and thousands of students later here's what I have learned:

Underneath all the best practices and strategies and theories and high-stakes testing and educational bureaucracy remains one critical component for successful teaching: Vulnerability.

A few years ago...

...at Back to School Night, a parent approached me, shook my hand and said, "I don't know how you do it."

I smiled, "Well, teaching is tough but I enjoy it."

She shook her head, leaned in and whispered, " No. Deal with teenagers. They're scary. I can't wait until mine graduates."

When I first started teaching...

...I was afraid to show weakness in the classroom.

I thought not knowing the answer to a grammatical question or the definition of some ornate word like sophistry would trigger not only the quick death of my teaching career but a storm of teenage mockery.

So I fashioned an authoritative front-polished shoes and a tightly knotted tie.

I deflect questions I didn't know the answers to with responses like, "I'll answer that later." And would either not answer the question or conduct some stealth research and pass off the answer like I knew all along to fortify my position as the all-knowing teacher.

Why?

Because teenagers, like Back to School lady said, "are scary."

However, little did I know, the all-knowing, impenetrable teacher was uninspiring, unreliable and further forging the many falsities that narrate the realistic fiction novel known as High School.

Fortunately, something happened.

11 years into my teaching career, I was diagnosed with a rare auto-immune disorder - Sarcoidosis, an inflammatory disorder that can, if not monitored, be fatal.

In my first few visits, the doctors told me it didn't look good. They told me to get my affairs in order.

I was a 33 years old, a husband, a father of 3. I was suppose to be a rock. Strong. Brave. And here I was standing feebly at the most vulnerable intersection of my life. .

Enter Vulnerability

Struggling with the diagnosis, I returned to the classroom. I had to. I had to go back to what I knew, to the stability of the school day.

I think it was the sudden awareness of my own mortality that made me realize it was okay and even acceptable, to tell my students I didn't have all the answers. That much of life and literature is and always will be a mystery. And that the mark of a good teacher is having a willingness to learn alongside of their students.

Since my diagnosis, I constantly reinforce to my students that life, like high school, comes to an end. And with the gift of time it's our job, our responsibility, to question and think and explore and share our stories and have courage to blast beyond the limits of rudimentary theories.

One the first day of school this past September, I introduced myself to new batch of students by telling them how I once stood 30 feet away from my literary hero, Tim O' Brien and how I lacked the simple courage to introduce myself to him. How I missed an opportunity of a lifetime.

I wanted them to know that vulnerability is the essential root of the thinker and learner.

I wanted my new students to know that- before the syllabus was handed out- they weren't being taught by an educational cyborg. That my wounds are both fresh and real. And how the seminal teenage belief that vulnerability is a weakness is completely and utterly false.

~

With education changing at a blistering pace, technology and quantified data research now dominates best practices.

And I do believe classroom education should be pillared with research, poignant questioning and differentiated instruction.

But underneath all the pedagogical verbiage, education has and always will be powered by human connection.

An electric connection that jolts you to know vulnerability is both a strength and an essential pillar of learning.

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Teaching Students the Power of Vulnerability - Student Voices

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It takes more courage and less time to admit you don't have the answer then to pretend you do. For most aspiring teachers, writing a Philosophy of Education is not only a requirement, but a pedagogical rite of passage.

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The benefits of being a vulnerable teacher

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Much has been written by myself* and others about the powerful impact on motivation, behavior and achievement when teachers form positive connections with students. Yet until I became familiar with the work of Brene Brown, author of Daring Greatly, I had difficulty identifying the key ingredient towards forming these connections: teacher vulnerability. Trained as a school psychologist where life has a lot of gray, I would often get frustrated with some teachers who seemed rigid and unyielding. Not surprisingly and with few exceptions, these educators struggled with their most challenging students. They were inclined to see things in the context of having many students in a class and if some didn't want to learn, it wasn't fair to the others to take time away from them. They weren't going to invest their time in disenfranchised students when the consequence was giving less attention to the "good kids." I often got a knowing shrug along with a verbal or more frequently non-verbal, "I don't have time for that." Yet in my mind, I would often think, "how don't you have time for that when these students are already taking up considerable instructional time with their distracting behaviors?" How is it ethical for an educator to write off any student? If able to get outside ourselves and our comfort zone, what possible good does giving up on these kids do for all our futures?
The Power of Authenticity
Connecting with tough kids is actually fairly easy but it requires considerable courage for most people. For a variety of reasons, many people are either unwilling, unable or both to reveal who they really are. In particular, showing our flaws feels risky. Most of us hide our true selves behind some pre-defined role of how we expect a good teacher to be and we then try to act accordingly. Unfortunately, tough kids in particular quickly sense inauthentic behavior and reject it. They are hyper-alert to insincerity even from afar. Since most are insecure, they need emotionally strong adults who offer honest and genuine interactions, whatever they may be. With the exception of coming across fearful and intimidated by students, they need to see and experience us as we are including our joys, worries and frustrations expressed respectfully but directly. They need to hear feelings with limits from real people, such as:

I am so angry right now at your disrespectful behavior that I feel like exploding but I will try really hard not to because somewhere I am thinking that you must be very unhappy to act the way you are. I hope after class you will let me know what is going on with you and for the remainder of class you act in a way that you can feel proud of."
They need expectations clearly communicated:
1) I love to see how much you want to share, but please raise your hand.

2) I want you to talk to me and tell me how you feel and what you want rather than giving me dirty looks, slamming the door and not doing your work. Will you do that?

They need teachers who are determined to not give up on them because deep down these teachers believe in them or know they must, in ways they have refused to believe in themselves:

Your behavior is unacceptable and not worthy of who you really are. If I did something to upset you, let me know and I'll apologize. I didn't mean to. If it's something else that's upsetting, let me know after class. I can tell you there are plenty of times that I feel upset about things that happen to me and it helps to talk to somebody about it.

Difficult students in particular need to know that we have feelings, concerns and uncertainties and that we are not perfect. Developing strong personal relationships is like making small regular deposits in a bank account that may seem insignificant at first but over time accumulates to produce wealth. Further, the deposits need to be real. All the counterfeit money in the world isn't enough to buy a bus token. You can't b.s. your tough students. They can see right through it so don't even try. If need be, work on developing a touch of 'multiple personality disorder' so you can genuinely convey with your toughest students messages consistent with your desire to not have them throw their education away:

As upset as I am right now and perhaps as unhappy as you are, I hope you can find a way to stop your misbehavior so that you can stay in class. You are an important member of this class and the last thing I would want is for you to leave. If you can wait until the end of class to share what's going on, I would appreciate it.
Getting comfortable with yourself
It is the nature of the relationships we develop that really matters. Best of all, authentic teachers actually spend less of their time with difficult students because there are fewer instances of needing to take corrective time-consuming actions. Teachers who let down their defenses so that their students get to know them in their full humanity overwhelmingly have the fewest problems with discipline and motivation. They are comfortable in their own skin, including warts and pimples, and are able to own up when they blow it and know it. Further, they are unafraid to show their imperfections and realize that by showing these they actually connect much better with all of their students, particularly because tough students have plenty of their own and benefit from seeing that you don't have to be perfect to be successful:

I messed up yesterday Dylan, and I owe you an apology. I lost my temper with you and called you out in front of your friends. That wasn't right. I need to work harder on staying cool. Now that you know how I feel, is there anything else you think you could have done differently that could have kept us from getting upset at each other?

Without a doubt, many teachers nowadays feel pressured to produce high achievement in their students. So the idea of taking time away from the curriculum becomes anathema to stressed educators. After all, if I am taking time to say hello, asking with real interest about how your day is going, telling you a little bit about how my day is going and then side-tracking to tell a personal story that may or may not directly relate to the curriculum but lets kids in on knowing me, I may fear taking time away from what is really valued and upon which I will be evaluated: how well they do on the test(s) that measure academic growth and performance.
Making a lasting impact
As we know, most causes of low student achievement originate in outside-of-school family, social and economic factors over which educators have little control. Yet we cannot and must not render ourselves helpless. It is imperative that we believe, act and sustain our optimism that each of us can make a difference. As much pressure as there is to fulfill sometimes unrealistic expectations, when we close the door and pull the blinds, we are in charge of what we do. It sometimes takes years before kids realize the impact a caring, authentic adult had on them. Several years after Dante, a kid I worked with at a juvenile center, left the facility, he wrote a letter to one of the teachers there:

*****

Dear Ms. R,

I been meaning to write you for a long time so I could say thanks cause you were there for me. I got a job and a family now. My kid is six and he's doing good. When we were together at Craig, I couldn't really talk much back then. I was too mad at my ma who walked out on us and my dad who drank too much. I couldn't face all that stuff then, but you were there for me. Just the way you listened, I always knew you cared. I just want you to know I'm sorry I acted mean sometimes. Thanks again Ms. R.
*****

Expect small successes every day and set your kids up for them. Let them know that you expect them to get just a little bit better each day than they were yesterday on what you are working on and that it is normal for there to be setbacks and disappointments along the way. Most importantly, when these are experienced, articulate these for your students

"I know you are disappointed but you must not give up. We both know that reading is tough for you and you probably worry that you aren't as smart as a lot of other kids. I have felt like giving up too sometimes. I had a really hard time with (give some examples). But you are smart about a lot of things and I am going to prove to you that you can and you will get better at reading."

I welcome your thoughts and comments.

About the author:

Allen Mendler, Ph.D. is an educator, school psychologist and the author or co-author of numerous articles and several books including When Teaching Gets Tough, Power Struggles, Motivating Students Who Don't Care and Connecting with Students. As one of the internationally acclaimed authors of the original and revised editions of Discipline with Dignity, Dr. Mendler is a highly acclaimed motivational speaker with a wealth of practical strategies on what it takes to successfully motivate and manage difficult students.

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THE BENEFITS OF BEING A VULNERABLE TEACHER

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Much has been written by myself* and others about the powerful impact on motivation, behavior and achievement when teachers form positive connections with students. Yet until I became familiar with the work of Brene Brown, author of Daring Greatly , I had difficulty identifying the key ingredient towards forming these connections: teacher vulnerability.

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Brene Brown studies human connection -- our ability to empathize, belong, love. In a poignant, funny talk at TEDxHouston, she shares a deep insight from her research, one that sent her on a personal quest to know herself as well as to understand humanity. A talk to share.