Like many novice teachers I started my first year with a marble jar. The idea was that when my students did something well, they would get a marble. Once the jar was filled, the class would get a reward. It was what I was taught in my pre-service program, it was the culture of the school I was in (as well as countless other schools), and it served as that thing I could hold over my students head. “You want a marble, don’t you?”
A few years into my teaching career (I was teaching kindergarten at the time) I was at a Responsive Classroom week-long summer training and the subject of marble jars came up. This was the first time that I had ever heard anyone outright challenge the marble jar idea and accuse it if begin a bad thing. I was skeptical at first. How could this be a bad thing? How could rewarding group behavior be a bad thing? The class is working together to achieve something…right?
Over the course of the training, I came to understand that my perception of what was going on was not correct. The marble jar wasn’t about group cohesion, was a bribe; it was the carrot of the carrot and stick. “If you behave, I’ll give you a reward.” I became the all-seeing eye and the ultimate judge of good behavior. My students were following the rules to earn marbles (to please me), not because it was the right thing to do. The rules were important to the class not because they helped us learn (if that’s not the purpose of your classroom rules, you should revisit why you have them), but because they were a method of earning marbles.
That fall I started kindergarten with no marble jar. Honestly, I was a little scared: how would I get the students to listen? Without that bribe, would they be motivated to do the right thing? After a few days of holding my breath and crossing my fingers I realized it was going to be okay. My class would still function just fine. My students would still learn. And since then I have learned that starting kindergarten without a marble jar is the easiest grade to start without one: since the kids are new to school, they don’t come in feeling like they’re missing something.
Since my kindergarten days I’ve spent some time in fifth grade and third grade. There continues to be no marble jar, only now the class asks about it during the first couple days of school. The conversation goes something like this:
“Do we have a marble jar [or something similar] this year?”
“No, we don’t.”
“Why not.”
“I don’t believe in them. I’m not going to bribe you to do the things you should be doing.”
“But how will we earn stuff like extra recess or movies or pajama day?” [because this is really what that jar is about for them]
“You won’t be able to.”
“What!?”
This is followed by a week where the students go through The 5 Stages of Loss and Grief. It’s always interesting: there are some students totally unfazed by the lack of marble jar, and others are really concerned about it.
Denial: “Wait, really, we won’t have a marble jar? Not at all?”
Anger: “But we have to have a marble jar!”
Bargaining: “If we’re really good today, can we start a marble jar?”
Depression: “So we’re really not going to have a marble jar, are we?”
Acceptance: They stop coming to me to discuss the marble jar.
Eventually it settles down. We fall into our routines. November blankets us in clouds and chilly weather. When that rare nice day rolls around I tell the class I’ve noticed them working really hard and that we should line up to go out an enjoy the weather. Inevitably someone approaches me to bring up the lack of marble jar. “How can we get extra recess if we don’t have a marble jar?” I remind them, “I don’t need a marble jar to tell me when we need to take a break, head outside, and play Four Square.” That’s when they begin to have faith in my lack of a marble jar.
And think of all the important social skills we can practice on the Four Square court! I don’t tell them that last part; I don’t want to ruin it for them.
As educators we want our students to be intrinsically motivated. We want our students to do the right thing, even when we’re not watching. We want our students to truly love being at school. Carrots, sticks, and marble jars won’t get us that.
And don’t get me started on that Elf of the Shelf. That’s extortion at it’s worst!
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Note: Between drafting this last weekend and posting it now we had a class meeting about behavioral expectations (the annual Post-Thanksgiving Pre-December-Holidays Reminder Conversation) and the students brought up the lack of marble jar, suggesting they might stay on task better if it were attached to a pajama day. Apparently we’ve digressed to the Bargaining stage. No, there will be no marble jar.
photo credit: ĐāżŦ {mostly absent} via photopin cc
