How to Motivate Students

As prelims are only a month away, I thought I should take a moment to reflect on both my own current status and most of the seniors', and I realised that if I sat my exams today I'd be lucky if I scraped a pass in any of them. I haven't started revising properly - in fact, I'm still catching up with work I missed last month when I was off - and I can only name a handful of people I know who revise regularly.

Surely now, if ever, would be the turning point for those poor teachers: this is when the exams, according to my ever-faithful English teacher Mr Keery, are won or lost. What can the dutiful educators of Stranraer Academy and several similar* schools across the country do now, to ensure that we get our heads down and revise?


Some teachers don't seem to worry about this, and I can't blame them. Almost all Higher pupils are at least 16 at the moment, and if we can't take responsibility for our own actions at this age, when can we? If we don't do the work, it's our own fault. On the other end of the spectrum, you'll find teachers who go out of their way to give us revision material, who will expect every essay and homework to be handed in on time and will give punishments for lack of effort, just as we were treated in first or second year.

Most teachers, however, file somewhere in the middle, and use a variety of tricks to get us working... and competing. I'll use Mr Keery as an example again - not least for the fact that he's one of my few Higher teachers who anyone that's reading this will know - because he has a variety of motivational techniques, whether deliberate or not, that get his classes working. One example would be pitting classes against each other. The benefits of his having two Higher classes is that we compete, and we do it without noticing. He'll tell our class how far the other one is ahead, and we'll immediately try to catch up. What's more, people from different classes are often found arguing over whose is the best. The general consensus is that the other class - Jemma's - is better in terms of raw ability, but ours is more fun to be a part of, if not the most diligent. Damn option forms...

Another example would be Mr Smart, Mr Keery's next-door-neighbour in the wonderful world of the Second Year base, who has somehow managed to get formerly disruptive pupils arguing about the quadratic formula and synthetic division. Sample quote: "You've dropped a minus sign, you spong!" I don't know how or when this happened, but I suspect it's something to do with liberal dispensation of jelly beans.

I'm particularly interested in methods of pupil motivation because it's a big trouble for me. I'm easily distracted, I don't do as much work as I should; I know this is my own fault and I could change this easily if I wanted, but I don't. I'm scared of working.

So, I ask you, how do you motivate yourself? What examples of student motivation have you seen in classrooms (or indeed used)? I'm sorry if this has been a bit of a rambling post, but I haven't posted anything here for four months so this one may as well be substantial.


*similar, but not identical: Stranraer Academy is extremely unique.

My Uneventful Life

As silly and self-pitying as it may sound, I usually consider my life quite uneventful. So it's rather a surprise that, as I reflected over the past month (oh, alright - three weeks) in desperate need for something to blog about, quite a lot has happened. Three events in particular stand out, personally.

Firstly: the 28th of August, my 16th birthday. After a bit of date-rearranging, everyone that was invited bar one person - James, if you need ask - managed to come out for a terrific meal at the Craiganelder, followed by a trip back to my house where we did what all teenagers do. We rolled an effigy down my stairs, annoyed my sister and added several thousand pounds to the phone bill. My favourite birthday yet, probably due to the fact that it's the one I can still remember.

The second event was High School Musical, the summer production of Stranraer Drama Club, which practically ruled my life from the 9th till the 16th of September. Although it went well, I'd rather not talk about it quite so much. It's over now; I'm free! I never have to hear "Getcha Head in the Game" again, let alone sing or dance to it.

The third event is comparatively minor, but I remember it nonetheless. I finally managed to sever contact with an addictive teenage internet forum I joined in March. Well, nearly. I haven't yet found a substitute.

In the meantime, everything seems to be going well for a change. Despite a few late homeworks here and there (and everywhere), I'm keeping up with Highers while juggling everything else: piano lessons, feeding my Scrubs and BBC sci-fi addiction, and keeping up with my incredibly geeky computer-based social life. Not to mention Mr Keery's new book club, which is great fun, surprisingly.

Now I just have to find time to blog...

Schooooooooool's... in.

As it's the first post of the new school year, I was planning to tell you all about my first day.

Planning, that is. It was excruciatingly boring. Fortuntely, the last two days have been fun, but I'm too lazy/tired (choose the excuse you prefer) to blog about them.

Instead, I'll just say congratulations to Mrs O'Neill, who has left Stranraer Academy along with its bad inspections and alleged student drugs problems, for sunny Minnesota! We all wish you the best of luck and happiness for your new job in America, not that you'll need it, and thanks for inspiring me to try blogging. Have fun Mrs O, you're sorely missed.

In that spirit, I'll leave you with the deservedly famous words of a famous Minnesotan and a musical hero of mine:

How does it feel?
Oh, how does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone?

Luckily, the lyrics have a much nicer meaning out of context, I think.

I write when I'm bored. Does it show?

The following characters depicted in this piece of fiction are not intended to bear even the passing resemblance to real people, especially those who ever set foot in Stranraer Academy. Honestly!

Set - An English classroom, in the mid-00s. (Definitely not G5 in 2007. Really!)

(A teacher is standing at the front of a classroom with a tall, bearded man. Students are sat two to one desk in three columns. A lesson is underway.)

Teacher: Emm, this is a transferred epithet. Rosss, what's a transferred epithet? Oh, you don't know? Can anyone tell me what a transferred epithet is? No? Okay, learn from the pro. Hamish, tell them what a transferred epithet is.

Hamish: Eh, aye, well, I mean, I dinnae really ken. Is it that train service in Europe, aye? Ye ken, the one on that album by the German band.

Teacher: No, that's the Trans-Europe Express! Go on, I'm sure such a widely acclaimed poet like you would know what a transferred epithet is.

Hamish: Err, is it one of those robots that turn intae things? There's a film oot wi' them in it.

Teacher: NO! That's a transformer. Don't you even know what a simple poetic technique is?

Hamish: Ohh, a poetic technique! I dinnae bother wi' them, I just tell it like it is.

(There is a deadly silence in the classroom, broken only by muffled giggling coming from the tables near the bottom-left corner of the class.)

Teacher: YOU WHAT?!

Hamish: Aye, ah think the poem should speak fur itsel', regardless o' them poncy things.

Teacher: I'm sure what Mr McDyme is trying to say, class, is that he doesn't try to use poetic techniques, as they come naturally to him, so he writes them without thinking. Go on, look for poetic techniques in Hamish's poems.

(The teacher glares defiantly at Hamish. Unaware, he stumbles blindly on.)

Hamish: Och naw, I avoid using poetic techniques. mean, they're overrated, y'know. But I like the sound o' that transferred epithet thingy. Aye, it'd fit just right in a haiku.

Teacher: Oh yes, Hamish, do please write us one of your world-famous haikus. Emm, I'm sure the likes of Shakespeare and Yeats were wrong, poetic techniques have no place in poems.

Hamish: Aye okay, I'll see what I can come up with.


Poetic techniques
Aren't really that good, even
Transferred epithets.


Aye, well I mean aye, that sounds good. Oh, is that 12.30? I'll need to go, I've got my regular spot on Gaelic FM.

(Hamish leaves the now hysterically giggling class, glared at by the teacher.)

Teacher: Shut up you lot. I bloody well hope you didn't take notes.

The Obligatory Results Post

I'll be brief, as I've had some surreptitious yeasty liquids, if you know what I mean.

...

My God that sounded bad. Sorry. I'll be even briefer. (Is that a word?)

After much deliberation, nagging and procrastination, I opened the envelope at 7.30 pm, and was incredibly surprised to find that... My predictions were WRONG. I passed everything, with As and 1s all round. How the hell did I manage that?

The sense of ecstasy I felt after this has only just worn off now, five hours later, and for a change I may actually go to bed before 3am. Goodnight!