Allow me to explain my thinking here. First of all, when I say "the right student-teacher relationship," I'm talking about an open facilitator type of role for the teacher, and a thinker role for the student. It is based on trust, past failures and successes, and comes in time. This is necessary because the student needs to know and understand that there is structure to each role, and that each role must be played out; it must be a relationship that is genuinely based on mutual respect and understanding - any belittling, "let me comfort you when you fail" or treat you like a kid garbage can't be happening here. Yes, I did say garbage. Yes, I did say don't comfort them when they fail. Instead, we must provide them with a sort of flashlight to get to the end of the cave on their own, so that they know they can do it on their own, without our help the next time (or maybe the time after that, situation-depending).
Now that we've sort of covered what I think of the thinker-facilitator role, we'll get into the good stuff: being wrong.
I personally hate being wrong. But then again, I was raised in a school culture of right and wrong; of failure and success; of this or that. I hated math because in Gr. 8 I was told that I was wrong in front of the whole class, and then belittled with a primary example of addition (I believe the exact phrasing was "If we add 4 moo cows with 17 moo cows, how many moo cows are there?" The numbers were probably different and who knows what we were learning, but there was definite referral to moo cows. In grade 8. Really? Shut down. It was a near-permanent shut down, until I started teaching.) We need to allow our students to be wrong, to struggle through it uncomfortably, providing them with only the tools they absolutely require to succeed, and then have them come out successful. This looks different for every child.
Some of my students require prompts. For example, "Go and look at the "area" word card to remind you of what it is," or, "What's area again?" or as much as a mini lesson to reteach the basic concept. I'm all about inquiry and exploratory learning, but if a child doesn't know how to speak or write, how can they tell their great tale? If a child doesn't know yet what something like area is, and how it works, and how it could be found, how can they investigate it? It's like saying, "I need you to bake me bread - welcome to my kitchen with no ingredients. You can't leave, but get baking." And the person only speaks Spanish. And you're saying it in your head, so they don't even know what you're thinking, because they're not psychic and can't read your thoughts. Hmmmm.
So once you've given them exactly and only what they require, you need to let them stew. Let them work it out. Some kids are visual - they'll need to draw it out, maybe on your chalk table. Some kids are auditory - they'll need to talk it out with you. Listen, but don't say much. Stop encouraging them, for goodness sake. Let them have a minute to think. How annoying is it to have someone talking to you every time you're on the verge of a breakthrough?
I love when they're wrong because it means that they have a starting point. It means there's something investigate. We can work with a wrong answer, but no answer means there's nothing there at all to play with. When they're wrong, they must struggle, and when they struggle and come out on top it means that they've made a memorable, authentic connection to what is being learned, and will likely carry that successful moment with them as they go through other struggles and learning experiences (as facilitator it's your job to help get them there without driving them ... just give them a map, or maybe a subway token, but seriously, stop leading them, they'll never LEARN that way - they'll only perform for you in that moment).
I love when they're wrong; not because I'm a jerk, but because it means they're working. My job is to get them thinking, to get them working, and to have them learn something. I can guarantee you: when you're doing the talking, the thinking, the helping ... there's no learning happening, except your own. It's their time now, not yours, so sit back and be quiet - and let the magic happen. Let them be wrong! Let them eat cake! No, let them divide the cake, and then eat it! But be quiet while they do it.
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