Body Talk

In Confident Body, The Confident Teacher by Alex Quigley2 Comments

(Image sourced via Pixabay)

 

I hate speaking on the phone. I loathe it with a singular passion and look to avoid it when I can. Why do I experience such a visceral response to something so, well, ordinary? The answer: a phone call deprives me of the crucial stuff of good communication. Like every working teacher, I rely on the essentials of facial expressiveness, meaningful movements, telling gestures and body talk.

Our attempts at physical communication are indeed the implicit stuff of great teaching. It may be the smile at the classroom door, a strategic raising of an eyebrow, or the slow lowering of an outstretched arm that dampens the hubbub at the lesson winds to an end. Each expression and gesture sets the tone in the classroom.

We need to make this implicit communicative power of our body talk explicit for us all.

And yet, when was the last time you did some professional training on the marginal details of your body language, or your non-verbal communication skills? I do not have wizened veteran status yet, but I have sat through a plethora of training sessions and, in well over a decade, I have had no training on such a fundamental aspect of my communicative skills. Nada. Nothing.

We live in a society with an education system that can too often see the human body as little more than a pedestal for the thinking brain. We need to recognise that how we communicate physically to our students matters a great deal and it can even mean the difference between understanding and miscomprehension of our verbal content for our students. We should be watching ourselves on video and talking about it in our training.

We know from psychological studies that people are more likely to believe, trust and respect someone who they view as being confident physically. Now, that can no doubt prove problematic, as confidence does not always determine competence, but we must harness this shortcut in our judgment to teach and communicate more effectively. Such confidence is often a very physical act.

When we focus with explicit intent, we can see confidence in the subtle physical micro-behaviours of the expert teacher and we note its absence when a new teacher flounders and flails in their classroom. What does an expert teacher do that exudes such ‘presence’ with seeming ease?

In reality, such expert teachers may be, shall I say – vertically challenged – but they still ‘stand tall’ in the classroom. That is to say, they stand up straight, always purposely moving about the key hot spots in the room. They don’t roll their shoulders with a slump, hunkering half-hidden behind the teacher desk.

 

The Power of Our Gestures

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The expert teacher creates a small but meaningful repertoire of gestures that helps maintain the flow of the lesson. Time on task matters and small disruptions accumulate, stealing hours of learning. Quick, consistently deployed gestures save time, reduce low-level disruption, and retain the flow of the lesson. Students just need a little training in the your repertoire of gestures.

Our body language is of course so important to our behaviour management skills. Slow, calm movements, can help convey confidence when aligned to concise, authoritative instructions. Consider: what gesture would accompany a request for silence and for students to listen actively? I hear too many teachers shushing their group like a panicked steam train, when a simple command of ‘quiet’, aligned with two arms raised above the chest being slowly lowered, conveys the message with greater clarity and confidence.

It is crucially important to consider our body language when we are dealing with a truculent teen. We need to assume a non-threatening body position, such as turning to our side and not facing the student head on. It is important to take care with our eye contact, sharing eye contact momentarily without lingering and inducing an anger-filled response. It can also help to mirror the body language of the student, easing their instinctive sense that you are both are a physical threat to be feared.

Of course, our words matter greatly, but how we bear them physically matters a great deal too.

We needn’t become an army of automaton teachers gesturing in perfect union, but we should pay more attention to the nuances of our physical communication.

 

In an attempt to marginalized status of physicality and body language, I have written in depth on ‘The Confident Body‘ in my new book, ‘The Confident Teacher’. You can grab a copy HERE

 

(A version of this blog originally featured as an article in Teach Secondary magazine)

Comments

  1. “I have had no training on such a fundamental aspect of my communicative skills” – out of curiosity, do teachers usually have no control over the aspects they receive training in? Rachel Jones hinted at this being the case in her TEDx interview with me. I guess I’m looking at this from being in corporate where I knew that if I wanted/needed specific training and could find a trainer or programme and make a compelling case, I’d have been given the OK and funding to have the training. Alternatively, if I didn’t want others to know I felt the need for that training, but was confident it would enhance my ability long term, I just organised and paid for it myself. Teachers can do this too, no?

    This post got me thinking that, actually, I prefer communicating with people via writing, on the phone or over Skype rather than in person. For me, personally, being in a physical space with people gives me ‘too much information’ and it feels overwhelming. Via remote means of communication, the information I receive is less but, exactly because of that, I pick out truer meanings. As a student, the teacher I learnt the most from with least effort from me was a lady who taught Archaeology A Level via email (I wanted to do this subject and the school didn’t offer it, so I found her and paid for it myself) and I think I learnt more efficiently with her than in class because our contact was solely via writing.

    Is this the difference between, as you say a ‘working teacher’ and a ‘teacher teacher’ and, for other students like me, do you ever see an education system where we can more openly work with teachers who exclusively teach in ways that work best for our personality/disposition? Would a teacher working remotely with students ever be considered a ‘working teacher’? My teachers didn’t know I was learning from this lady till I registered for the exam – I didn’t want to hurt their feelings by being open about the fact she taught in a way that worked better for me than what they were trying so hard to do in a classroom. Seeing that other students only learn in classrooms and knowing that I had no choice but to be there, there seemed no point me saying anything. What if we could be more open about these things?

  2. So good to read about the body in mind. Much of the current education discourse, finding as it does authroity in cognitive science, is unwittingly relegating the body to limbo. ‘Knowing Bodies, Moving Minds: Towards Embodied Teaching and Learning ed. Liora Bresler is a good antidote.

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