I recently had one of those lessons that didn’t go quite the way I expected.
My 7th graders are in the middle of a unit on Ancient Greece, and we’ve been looking at Greek philosophy – Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. Then, to connect to today, we examined some modern ideas about how we live, think, and interact with the world. One example was the idea of using body language to project confidence. Another idea was the work of Korean-born philosopher Byung-Chul Han, particularly his ideas about what he calls the “burnout society.” You can find a copy of my resource here. You might want to look at it before using it!
Han wrote that in the past much of the pressure placed on people came from outside:
- “You can’t do that…”,
- “You must do this…”, and
- “You aren’t allowed to…”
Today, Han argues, much of that pressure has shifted. We live in a world of:
- “You can do anything.”,
- “You can be anything.”,
- “You can achieve anything.”
While that change sounds amazing and positive, Han writes that it can create its own kind of pressure. If the possibilities are seemingly endless, then our failures can begin to feel entirely our own:
- “Maybe I’m not successful because I didn’t work hard enough.”
- “Maybe I didn’t make the right choices.”
- “Maybe I didn’t take advantage of the opportunities available to me.”
The first section really got into it. We talked about technology, fame, success, and the seemingly endless opportunities available to young people today. Some students reflected on the pressure they sometimes feel to succeed because success appears so attainable.
If Justin Bieber or Mr. Beast can become famous on YouTube, become an influencer, build a business at 16, or create something that reaches millions of people, then why can’t I?
I felt pretty good about the lesson…until I taught the next block.
They were having none of it. Their argument was basically: Life actually isn’t easier for young people today. They pushed back against Han’s ideas and against the suggestion that young people somehow have it easier because they have more choices.
One student brought up something I suspect many middle schoolers have heard: “Back in my day…” or “When I was in school…”
That was all it took. Suddenly, everyone had a story.
Students started talking about the things that make their lives difficult. School. Social pressure. Technology. Costs. Expectations. Competition. Mental health. The constant comparison with other people. The feeling that adults don’t always understand what it is like to be a teenager today.
I tried to steer us back to Byung-Chul’s work, but then class ended and the students had to leave.
Afterwards, I felt like I had failed. I’d found an interesting, relevant idea that I thought could help students understand the pressures they experience. I’d carefully introduced it, given them examples, and created space for discussion. And they stone-cold rejected it.
Later, though, I started thinking about what had actually happened in that classroom. I had been with a group of 7th graders, arguing with them about the ideas of a Korean philosopher.
Students were passionate and articulate. They disagreed with me, explained why they disagreed, listened to one another, challenged one another, and defended their own ideas.
And that’s when I realized that I had been measuring the success of the lesson against the wrong outcome. My goal wasn’t to convince my students that Byung-Chul Han was right. My goal was to get them to think about an idea, consider evidence and perspectives, communicate their thinking, and be willing to challenge an argument.
They actually did all of those things, and better than I could have hoped.
That’s an important reminder for me as a teacher. Sometimes we become so focused on delivering the lesson we planned that we forget that the students’ response to the lesson is itself part of the learning.
The second class didn’t “get” Han, but they got something else. And maybe that’s exactly what a philosophy lesson with 7th graders should look like.
Ed X!
