5 Classroom Strategies That Actually Work (Even Without a Rubric)

Five Things I Do in My Classroom That Just Work

(Even if there’s no rubric for them)

There are things I do in my classroom that just work—but I’m not sure there’s a teacher rubric for them. Maybe they’re not “standard” in education. Still, I do them anyway.

1. I give out stickers.

I know, I know. I’ve read all the teacher blog posts and watched the TikToks that say: “Get rid of the cute stuff. Kids need consistency, not stickers.” And I get it. I don’t hand out a sticker every single class period. But I do love giving out stickers. Cute ones. Fun ones. The kind that make a kid smile. And guess what? It works—with seniors, with middle schoolers. Kids like stickers. I like stickers. It’s a small gesture that makes the classroom feel human.

2. I build consistency—but I’m not married to the format.

Yes, I believe students need to know what to expect when they walk into the classroom. Maybe it’s a predictable structure: a warm-up on grammar, a chapter discussion, small group work, and an exit ticket. That kind of rhythm can be calming. But I also think it’s okay to play around with the model sometimes.

For example, sometimes I lecture. I know that’s considered a dirty word in modern pedagogy, but sometimes students need direct input. A 10–15 minute mini-lecture—on something visual and engaging, like Raphael’s School of Athens—can be powerful. Talk about Plato and Aristotle in the center, point out Raphael’s self-portrait. Deliver it like a college professor would. Then have students write Cornell notes, draft questions, or summarize the lecture. Students need input and output. The balance matters.

3. I prioritize discussion—and I make it real.

I love classroom discussion, but I know it can fall flat if the setup isn’t right. Sometimes teachers over-protocol it. Other times, the discussion questions just aren’t juicy enough. You’ve got to trust your kids and ground the discussion in something compelling.

Here’s a simple method that works for me: I put a theme on the board and ask students to find three textual moments that relate to it. I give them three minutes. Then I pull names from tongue depressors (old-school but effective). Each student shares one quote, and then we discuss it: “What do you think?” “What does someone else think about that?” “Who has a counter-opinion?” It’s structured, but not rigid. And it opens up rich conversations.

Sometimes, we skip the text entirely and go for the big questions:

1. What is the meaning of life?
2. How do you know if someone is truly your friend?

Those social, philosophical moments build community. They’re worth the time.

4. I preview everything.

One hard-earned lesson: Always preview activities with students. I used to spring things on them and then get frustrated when it didn’t go well. Now I let them know:

“Tomorrow we’re having a discussion. It’ll be 20 minutes, after our book work. No homework, but check Google Classroom if you want to see the questions ahead of time.”

Previewing helps students mentally prepare. And if I know certain students might struggle, I make a point of checking in with them ahead of time.

5. I believe in co-teaching—and wish more schools did too.

I’ve worked in co-teaching models, and I’m convinced: this is the future of education. The biggest problem in schools today is what I call scope creep. You start out as a sixth grade ELA teacher. Suddenly you’re also the debate coach, an advisor, the parent liaison, the field trip organizer… It’s too much.

Instead of pouring money into layers of admin, why not invest in teachers? Every class could have two teachers. Cap class sizes at 21. Let APs and coaches teach. Let co-teachers build a shared scope and sequence, check in weekly, and split responsibilities. I’ve seen it work. It can be transformative.

But instead, too many schools gaslight teachers:

“I don’t know why this class isn’t working out for you…”

Maybe because you’re expecting one human to do the work of three?

Final Thoughts

I’m not saying there’s one perfect way to teach. But I know what works for me. Stickers, mini-lectures, juicy discussions, transparent expectations, and a genuine co-teaching model. These things aren’t always in the playbook—but they should be.

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Flash Fiction: Hashtag Smart (A Story Out of School)

I wrote a flash fiction piece—called 'Hashtag smart'—about a teacher, Mr. Stanley, in an 11th grade English class overrun every morning by a group of 10th grade boys. Discover quirky student banter, T.S. Eliot echoes, and a nostalgic, witty classroom vibe.

Mr. Stanley and His Second Period English Language Arts Class

Hashtag Smart

Tuesday morning, 8:56 AM. My second-period English Language Arts class. My class is 11th graders—some already seated, a copy of T.S. Eliot’s “Journey of the Magi” scattered neatly on every particleboard desk. Adolescents shuffle in, earbuds firmly planted, eyes downcast, looking like they just tumbled in from sleep. It’s an unusually tepid March day, and the AC in my room is blasting like it’s the middle of July. Why? My classroom still has these ancient 1950s grill heaters that think it’s their job to keep us all toasty—even in March.

“It’s a sauna in here,” I say out loud, but to no one in particular. Allan, a mobile gamer aficionado, who’s always a beat behind—like he’s buffering—enters the room. 

“Hi, Allan,” I offer.

He responds, “Huh?”

“Hi,” I say. I wait a beat. And then—“Oh, hey, Mr. Stanley.” Robbie, the athlete, is already dribbling an imaginary basketball. A mess of them. But these boys are not in my class. “Feral golden retrievers,” I dub them—left teacherless for a few minutes because their real teacher is perennially late, trekking from her homeroom on the top floor. So, these 10th-grade boys have taken to nesting in my room until she arrives. It’s become a bit of a ritual, and who am I to ruin their squatter status?

 

There are ditches I no longer die in.

Enrique, stabbing Quentin with the blunt end of a ball-point pen, tells me, “Mr. Stanley, did you know the teacher who’s going to replace you did like a lesson in Ms. Patil’s class yesterday?” I was quitting after teaching in the same school for sixteen years. I had broken the news to the kids just a few days prior. But it still felt raw. Premature. But I offered demurely, “Oh, really? How’d it go?” Enrique grins, “He kept saying ‘hashtag smart’ every time someone answered a question.” Marsha, one of my quirkier students, and actually on my second-period roster, chimes in, “Hashtag smart? That’s so stupid.” 

I secretly relished her response. A kind of commiseration. 

A tinny voice from the hallway—“Don’t be tardy, y’all,” and the stragglers, reluctant, evacuate.

Flash forward. June.

I’m packing up books, and those loitering-sophomore boys from second period show up in my room. They’d just finished their finals, and here they were as if it were two minutes before second period. We chat about summer plans—Anton’s off to summer camp, Robbie might visit family in Belize, and Yuvraj, the one I call “The Prince,” is still insisting he’s a better writer than I am.

Then silence. I take the initiative. And walk towards the door. And like a dismissal, the boys depart. And I stood there in my vacant room. But one of the boys—Yuvraj, the Prince, pokes his head back in—“Hey, Mr. Stanley. Hashtag smart!” And before I can rejoinder—he’s gone. I cross my arms across my chest. A wan smile settles there. And, as T.S. Eliot might say, it was satisfactory.

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Reflections of a Teacher: Navigating the Challenges of Education in 2024

A teacher's honest reflections on starting a new job, teaching twice-exceptional students, and balancing the messiness of education in 2024.

"Harried Teacher" (Image Credit: Greig Roselli ©2024)

So, it’s November, and I haven’t posted in a while. Initially, I intended this blog to be a repository of thoughts, ideas, art, places I’ve been, kids I’ve taught, and lessons I’ve learned from the classroom. It’s meant to chronicle museums I’ve visited, books I’ve read, and experiences worth reflecting on. I still want it to be that. But life—particularly my life as an educator—has been anything but static since September. Starting a new job at a new school has consumed most of my bandwidth, leaving little room for reflection.

A snapshot from one of my days in the classroom—circa 2021

For context, my teaching journey has taken me across vastly different landscapes. I began in a Catholic school in New Orleans, (and don't forget my stint as a Benedictine monk working in an academic library). I was a graduate student, moved to New York, worked at the New York Public Library, taught as an adjunct at a two-year college, and spent a year teaching humanities to sixth graders in Harlem. I devoted eight years to a school in Jackson Heights, Queens, where I taught middle and high school students a mix of humanities and ESL. Now, I’ve landed at a private school for twice-exceptional (2E) students—learners who are both gifted and face learning differences, such as dyslexia, persistent demand avoidance, autism, or attention deficit profiles.

Starting anew has been equal parts invigorating and exhausting. No matter its mission or demographic, every school presents its own challenges and rewards. Yet, the universal truth of teaching is this: it’s an all-consuming job. There’s always “pre-work” to do before stepping into the classroom. And, increasingly, the generational shifts among students—compounded by the effects of COVID—have made the traditional classroom experience feel antiquated. Students seem less invested in conventional academic structures but more hungry than ever for authenticity and relevance.

My current school’s emphasis on neurodivergent learners has shifted my perspective on what education should look like. The mantra here is, “The social is academic, and the academic is social.” At first, this sounded like educational jargon, but working with my students has brought it to life. Teaching here feels a lot like riding the New York City subway. To get anywhere, everyone needs to collaborate. You step aside to let someone off the train; you take off your backpack to make room. It’s not perfect, but it works and is the same in the classroom. We accommodate each other’s needs and create space for everyone to thrive, even when messy.

My class sizes are small—no more than six or seven students per group—yet the diversity of needs can make it feel like managing a classroom of thirty. Each student’s learning profile is unique, which means cookie-cutter solutions don’t work. I quickly scrapped my original plan to teach two courses to split between four classes. Instead, I stacked all the books I planned to teach across my courses, laid them out, and asked students to participate in a ranked-choice vote. It was a beautiful exercise in agency and choice—though, inevitably, some still complained.

The result? Four completely different curriculums for four unique classes. While this approach has made my work exponentially harder, it’s also been rewarding. My students’ engagement rises when they feel ownership of their learning. But this level of customization requires constant energy, and by November, I’m spent.

I’ve been reflecting on the school labor divide—between teachers, administrators, and support staff. Despite being in a supportive environment, I sometimes feel the disconnect between those in the trenches of the classroom and those shaping broader policies or initiatives. It’s a gap that underscores the growing challenges of education in 2024. What does it mean to be a teacher today? What does the future of schooling hold?

For now, I’m left with more questions than answers. I know that teaching requires empathy—for students, colleagues, and, perhaps most importantly, for myself. It’s easy to be self-critical, to feel like I’m not doing enough or doing it well enough. But then, moments of connection with students remind me why I do this work.

One thing I love about my new job is how honest the kids are about their needs. They realize they have "lagging skills," even though they don't always buy in to my strategies to help (but, hey, that's human). I did have a breaking point a few days ago—when I realized that I was emotionally drained—but there is no rest for the wicked in education. You got to do it all over again the next day. But my students gave me a lift when we read a scene from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof—and everybody gave their best effort in doing an American southern accent. It was a blast. I am so happy we are reading this play—it's fantastic!

So, here’s to embracing the exhaustion, the messiness, and the uncertainty. This post is less a polished reflection and more a snapshot of where I am. Let’s call it a work in progress.

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Celebrating 1,000 Posts: Reflecting on My Blogging Journey on Stones of Erasmus (Is it a Milestone Worth Celebrating? Yes! I Think it Is.)

Celebrating 1,000 posts on Stones of Erasmus! From poetry to lesson plans, join me in reflecting on my journey as a writer and educator.

1,000 Blog Posts Later

Writing my 1,000th post for my blog, Stones of Erasmus, is a milestone that I find challenging to write about. I started this blog when I was still a Benedictine monk, and it has stayed with me through various life changes, including my stint as a high school English teacher in New Orleans, my time at the New School for Social Research, and my New York City sojourn.

Initially, my blog was a mishmash of embarrassing pieces of poetry and ersatz literary criticism, sprinkled in with some theology and movie reviews. Over time, my blog has evolved and become more focused. Although it still includes some of those early elements, such as movie reviews and records of my visits to random art museums, it now features a lot of educational content related to my teaching career.

One of my earliest obsessions was making things up, and my journey as a teacher has allowed me to indulge that passion. I create digital educational resources such as clip art and lesson plans that I share on my blog. I also write about my creations, sharing my experiences with my readers.

A Writer's Blog As An Excuse To Journal

Writing on my blog has also allowed me to indulge in another childhood obsession: keeping a journal. I still have my first spiral notebook, which contains my first journal entries from the end of my fifth-grade year through the monotony of sixth grade. As an adult, I have only read it once. However, I am considering adding it to my blog, which would be a fun and nostalgic experience.

Answering Questions from My Students

Some of my high school students have asked me about my blog, such as whether I make any money. The answer is yes and no. I used to use AdWords from Google, but I stopped using it. My blog does make money, but it is minimal, around one hundred dollars a year. The income comes from people clicking on a link to one of the digital educational resources I sell, such as my popular lesson plan on teaching Plato's Allegory of the Cave to middle and high school kids.

The Future of Blogging
Another student asked me why I continue to write my blog when long-form writing appears dead. My blog is more permanent than other forms of social media, and I enjoy the idea that more people are likely to stumble upon it, whether through a Google search or a link somewhere. I am always surprised when old posts receive a resurgence, such as a post I wrote years ago about words from Greek mythology or a post I wrote about The Iliad, which has remained popular for some reason. The difference between long-form blogging and other types of content on the internet is that blog writers offer a unique perspective on things. I enjoy reading other blogs, such as those written by nannies or teachers, because they share their personal experiences, which is powerful.

As my blog has evolved, I have also learned some important lessons about writing. One of the most important lessons is to keep writing, even when I do not like it. I easily get discouraged when I get few views or comments on my blog. However, I have learned that if I keep writing, eventually, people will discover my work, and it will find an audience.

Another lesson I have learned is the importance of editing. Writing is a process that takes time to craft a well-written post. I often write several drafts before I am happy with the final version. It is also essential to proofread my work carefully, looking for spelling and grammatical errors. Reading my work out loud is helpful, as this helps me catch mistakes I might have missed otherwise.

Finally, I have learned that blogging is a community activity. Blogging is not just about writing for myself but also about connecting with others with similar interests.

Drum roll, please.

Here are my favorite selections from Stones of Erasmus (in no particular order):

• Grandson and Grandfather: Birthday Portrait
• Story from the Classroom: A Severe Whooshing Sound
• Top Ten Movies in Black & White
• Blaise Pascal On The Contradictory Nature of Human Beings
• Repost from Kurt Vonnegut: Liberal Crap I Don't Want to Hear Anymore
• Book Review: Repulsion as Metaphor
• Travel Postcard: That Time I Visited a Public Library in Saltillo, Mexico
• On Writer's Block — A Journal & Rant
• Thinking About the Roman God Janus On New Year’s Eve
• On St. Ann and Bourbon: A Story of a Mardi Gras Day

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