Overview:
A reluctant administrator-turned-6th grade art teacher discovers that flexibility, authenticity, and mutual respect—not rigid expectations—are what ultimately drive student growth and engagement.
My students are a far cry from being the next Bob Ross, René Magritte or Rembrandt Van Rijn. They’re a far cry from even being a starving artist in the future. But, dang it, they’re trying – and so am I.
An Assignment I Didn’t Ask For
I am the Resource Director for my district – among other things – and I accepted this position to get out of the classroom – permanently. But last May, my superintendent told me that I would be teaching two sections of Grade 6 Art for the 2025-2026 school year. I was livid; I didn’t want to be back in the classroom. I didn’t want to deal with the students, the observations, the I Will/We Will statements, and the discipline reports (again). I did it for ten years, and I was done. Quitting crossed my mind more than once. Flat-out refusing to do what I was asked quickly slid across the table of options and disappeared over the edge. But, after taking a beat, I simply nodded my head and said, “Yes sir, I’ll do it”, and spent a good portion of my summer watering down my former High School Art curriculum so my students wouldn’t be completely lost.
As I structured the lessons, I created the completed examples so I had genuine pieces, and not just something pulled from the internet. I created my scoring rubrics, notes packets, and supply lists. As I worked on my curriculum in between data submissions, administrative meetings, and onboarding new employees, I realized that I had made a choice. I didn’t simply choose to do what my superintendent told me to do, I chose to face the coming year head on. What started off feeling like a sentencing in May quickly became an opportunity for me to refine my teaching skills and expand my horizons. I mean, 6th grade?! Yuck! I didn’t like sixth grade students even when I was one of them; and there was a reason I had only ever taught high school – I couldn’t stand the thought of dealing with middle school kids.
From Resistance to Reframing
Enter the 2025-2026 school year. Day one arrives, and that tell-tale smell of students who don’t quite understand body odor walks through the door, reminding me that we have nine months until summer break. They take a seat, look around the room, and are completely terrified to be in Junior High. They are clueless, anxiety-riddled, hormone-driven little psycho balls of energy that just. never. stop. I introduce myself and my role in the school, address the rules, the expectations, and the supply list that I had handed out to parents at Meet the Teacher the week prior, knowing full well that all of my words were falling on deaf ears. I ask them questions about themselves to break the ice, to try to find a way to put names to faces, and to identify what kids are going to be trouble and which ones will be okay-ish to have to deal with for the year.
One question I always ask is, “What is your current level of artistic ability?” I get a wide-eyed stare like they’ve never heard that question before in their lives – even though they just heard ten of their classmates get asked the exact same question. I sigh and ask the followup question: “So, do you consider yourself to be pretty good at art already, or are you someone who struggles to draw a straight line with a ruler?” Until this year, the latter question was always meant as a joke. I have learned that sixth-grade students cannot, in fact, draw a straight line with a ruler. Regardless, I get the usual response of a shoulder shrug or the common, “I just doodle a lot”. And let me tell you, after watching them for the first couple of weeks of class, considering their scribbles as “doodles” is giving them way too much credit.
I knew I was in for a long year, and I had to remind myself several times to view this as what it was: an opportunity to try something new. And try I have! I have tried new teaching methods that I never needed in the high school classroom. Middle school students are far less independent than high school students, so I have to be way more explicit and way slower with my instruction. I’ve had to modify my expectations and set a wider range of them, and I’ve had to be far more explicit and hands-on in the guided practices. Additionally, I have had to tone down my sarcasm and dry humor, especially when delivering content. I don’t know if you know this, but middle school students are not keen on picking up on sarcasm or any type of humor coming from an adult, apparently.
Entering the Classroom
Much to my amazement, and to my great relief, student discipline has been less of an issue that I had anticipated. They’re mouthy, and their “tough talk” seriously needs to be updated with some more impressive vocabulary, but overall, this particular group of kids is not as disrespectful as one is led to believe all middle school students to be. One thing that has helped some is that I’ve kept more structure in my classroom this year than I ever had to in my high school classes: hard deadlines for projects instead of leniency because they’re actively trying to improve, no bathroom breaks during class, timers set for warm-up activities, timers set for clean-up time, plenty of relevant enrichment activities for those who finish their projects ahead of time, and the structure in place that I absolutely despise – seating charts (gag!). All of these have come in handy in maintaining discipline.
However, what helps the most is being real. Every professional development seminar, especially for new teachers, suggests that you need to be this soft-spoken, all-is-wonderful-in-the-world, “I love each and every one of you”, peaceful, saint of a teacher. Now, if you are that person, power to you; I know your students will love you forever for being a safe and comfortable person to be around! I am… not that teacher (*audience gasps*). But that doesn’t mean that I have failed; it doesn’t mean that I am inherently a “bad teacher” just because I don’t feel compelled to comfort or coddle the girl ugly-crying for my entire class because she didn’t get her assignment done on time.
No. Being you and being real with your kids is the best way to maintain discipline in the classroom. And it goes both ways – you must allow your students to be real as well. If you try to force them to conform to who you believe they should be – you’ll lose them and any respect they could have had for you. That’s not to say you shouldn’t push them because you absolutely must get in order to get them to do their best. But you need to allow them the space they need to be real with you. The moment they feel you’re being fake, the moment they see your mask slip for a split second, or the moment they feel pressured to conform to your expectations of who they are, they’ll lose all respect for you, and you will spend the remainder of the school year fighting them in a battle you will. not. win.
Instructional Adjustments
Moving beyond the first few months, I was surprised to find myself enjoying being with these kids, even if they are obnoxious little weirdos. Bit by bit, we have hacked our way through normalizing classroom routines and expectations, the elements of art, the principles of design, color theory, and so much more. They have fought me on taking notes, quizzes, and tests, and having to present their artwork to the class. They’ve fought me on not having free days when they feel they deserve them. They have fought me every single day on just about every single assignment. Yet somehow, in the midst of this unyielding battle between an army of not-doodlers and a teacher, we have managed to find common ground. We have formed an unlikely relationship with a very strange, yet mutual, respect for each other.
I dialed way back on my expectations for their performance while still pushing them beyond where I knew they were actually capable of meeting minimum standards for their projects. They have been frustrated with what I am asking them to do – but what has surprised me even more than realizing I’m enjoying teaching (shhh, don’t tell them) is their refusal to give up even when they throw a blending stump and say they’re about to “crash out”. They are rising to meet the challenges I have put in front of them. Those “not-doodles” from the first few weeks have become recognizable images. Their tasteless color schemes of tacky scribbles have begun to make sense and are no longer rushed, streaky messes across the page. Creating shadows no longer means “color it black”. Instead, they have started using value scales and blending stumps to create a more realistic effect. Watching them do their 5-minute books – their daily warm-up exercise – this week in class, I had a realization, “These odious little tweens have been listening this whole time!” What I have viewed as them fighting me on assignments, is them asking questions about expanding the assignment so they can incorporate their own ideas, not trying to get out of doing it (well…for some of them, anyway). I envisioned a “free day” in art class to look like total anarchy.
What happens, though, is they ask for one because they are wanting to apply a new skill to their own projects and ideas. In my own efforts to stay flexible and real, I created an environment where the kids feel free enough to ask questions and to try where they otherwise would not have. One student in particular, we will call him Mike, has been a shining example of these improvements. He has gone from being the student who couldn’t draw a straight line with a ruler in August, who couldn’t color within the lines of any shape, and who couldn’t remain focused to complete even the simplest of tasks, to being able to set up a one-inch grid with said ruler, transfer a cartoon character onto his page without tracing, fully coloring and shading the character, and adding background elements. If you had asked me at the beginning of the year – or even at Christmas – who would end up being “most improved”, Mike would have been at the bottom of the list, like, dead last.
Reflections for the Year
As I reflect on this year so far, it hasn’t been about the perfectly detailed lesson plans of which I was so proud. It hasn’t been about the strict rules and classroom expectations that usually go out the window in week three because, honestly, who has time to remember who has and hasn’t gone to the nurse, the office, or the restroom every single day? It’s not even about the rigor of the assignments or meeting growth targets. As valuable as these things may seem when we are told we will be teaching (again), and as hopeless as those battles appear when you’re in the trenches every…single…day…they don’t matter. None of it matters. Not the summative or formative assessments. Not the perfectly-constructed I Will/We Will statements. Not the observation data, the teacher walkthroughs, or the grades in the gradebook. Not even the detailed discipline reports for that one student you just can’t stand – or who can’t stand you. None of it matters.
What has made the difference – what always makes the difference – is the common ground. Building a mutual respect for one another – no matter what that looks like – is the key to going from not-doodles to something that resembles art. If they never quite hit their growth targets, if they never enter an art competition, if they never pick up another blending stump once they leave my class, that is okay with me. My kids are a far cry from being the next Bob Ross, René Magritte, or Rembrandt Van Rijn. They’re a far cry from even being a starving artist in the future. But, dang it, they’re trying – so am I. And that is worth more to me – and to them – on any single day than the Mona Lisa will ever be.
Some Key Takeaways: This reflective narrative has several key takeaways for you, the audience. First, remaining flexible in your career is so important. We get so tied up in the administrative demands of our jobs that we forget to allow any flexibility for ourselves and for our students. Give yourself some grace and know that your job will still be there tomorrow. Give your kids the same understanding, and be flexible when it is necessary. Flexibility is not a weakness, and no matter the time constraints of a curriculum, you are teaching students, not subjects. Keep this in mind when you feel the tension in your classroom is unbearable, and let go a little to give everyone a moment to come up for air.
Second, remember that all the classroom structure, the expectations, the rigor, the rules – all of it – play a key role in student discipline and in student and teacher growth. However, you will have zero growth if you do not create an atmosphere that cultivates mutual respect between you and your students. The best way that I have found to build that mutual respect is to be real – be who you are, and tailor your conversations to your audience. Again, high school students pick up on sarcasm and dry humor, whereas middle school students do not. I’ve had to change how I interact, not who I am.
Finally, and this is straight out of the professional development seminars that I have grown to loathe, embrace your students for who they are. If I had continued to be annoyed with Mike and was constantly nagging at him to stop being…well… himself, then he would never have put forth the efforts he has been making lately. I backed off, and as annoying as he tends to be, allowing him to self-regulate (to a point), and allowing him to maintain his own unique identity (to a point) have allowed him the space he needed to grow. This is true with anyone – even you. Give your students and yourself space to grow instead of suffocating under the rules, the expectations, and the perception of perfection.
