Earlier this week, my students were meeting in their inquiry groups for the first time. We started the project a month ago, but it’s the first inquiry they’ve done with me (and, for most of them, the first inquiry they’ve ever done), so we’ve been moving slowly. I’ve been doing a lot of scaffolding and step-by-step instruction. It wasn’t until a point early this week, therefore, when they’d researched two sources related to their questions, that I felt they would be able to have productive discussions in their inquiry groups.

In one of my classes, only six students had done the required research. Eight had not done any research at all, and the rest had maybe half of what they were expected to do. There were 24 students present that day.

Honestly, I didn’t have the words to express what I was feeling. I told them that I was deeply disappointed, especially given the time that we had devoted to this activity, and asked them – quite genuinely, because I was at a loss – where we should go from here. I really didn’t know. That number of students not being prepared pretty much threw the expectations out the window – they couldn’t have meaningful discussions if over 3/4 of them had no knowledge about their inquiry question. They couldn’t be prepared to answer their inquiry questions, even provisionally, if they knew nothing about the societies on which the questions were based. We’d spent a month on developing their skills in researching and choosing relevant, unbiased, accurate sources, but when they had to practice the skills on their own, they had nothing done … despite being given time in class to do it. So what was I supposed to do with this?

So I asked them. One student put up her hand. “I did my work,” she said, shrugging, “but for those who didn’t … isn’t that their fault? Their problem? It’s not on you.”

I hadn’t expected that response. It made me wonder how the other kids in the class feel when things like this happen. There are students – the six in this example, and more generally, who make a point of doing their work and being prepared for class. Yet when they are in groups with those who haven’t, they’re not getting the benefit of social learning. The students who didn’t do anything are benefiting from these students’ research, but there’s nothing in it for those who came in prepared. Sometimes, because of students who didn’t do their work, we have to adjust what we’re doing as a class because we simply can’t move forward in the lesson.

I know students feel this way with group work sometimes. It’s why I always have an individual component and consider students’ contributions to the final project. It’s why I often allow students to choose their own groups when there isn’t an individual component. It’s why I often allow students to choose to work individually instead, if they want to. Students’ frustration with group members who don’t work has never been unexpected. Somehow, though, I never considered that they might feel the same frustration when students’ irresponsibility in terms of work completion affected us as a whole class.

When I’m struggling with the fact that some of my students are failing or doing poorly because they’re not completing their work, or not attending class, or not putting the effort in, I often turn to a colleague, both to vent and for suggestions of how to move forward. When I got to her, because of all of these things that happen to every teacher in every class everywhere, she reminds me, “You can invite them to the party, but you can’t make them come. They have to decide to show up.”

She – and my grade eight student – are correct. So why is it so hard for me to let that happen? Why can’t I shrug, let it go and focus on the students who are partying to the best of their ability?

I think if I had an answer to that question, I’d be a lot less stressed as a teacher.