I hear a lot from teachers who are feeling frustrated by students' "chattiness." They say things like "Mike, they're not bad kids, they just won't stop talking to each other. As soon as I stop talking, they start," and "The constant chatter is interfering with their learning. They're not paying attention."

I remember this behavior from my own classrooms, and I found it frustrating, too. However, if you have a chatty class, I'd like to challenge you to reconsider your responses.

Lunchtime used to be chaotic at Garfield Elementary, where students eat in shifts, with up to 180 students in the cafeteria at any given time. Disrespectful behavior was common, and a steady stream of discipline referrals flowed from the cafeteria to the office.

That changed after school leaders prioritized improving lunchtime behavior during the 2006/2007 school year. Their approach: involving children in a rule-making process that clarified behavior expectations and increased student investment in the rules.

At a time when many policy makers are concerned primarily with children's cognitive development and how they do on standardized tests, educators from around the country gathered in Amherst, Massachusetts, to reaffirm the importance of educating the whole child and to share effective ways to do so. The two-day conference, the first of its kind organized by NEFC, focused on using the Responsive Classroom approach schoolwide as a way to promote children's academic, social, and emotional growth.

Morning Meeting is about to start. With eye contact and a head nod, Wyatt chooses a friend to ring the chime that signals our gathering. We come together in record time. There is a feeling of anticipation as we silently watch Wyatt get his wheelchair positioned so that he can take his turn leading Morning Meeting.

I once taught a second grader who sometimes subtly refused to go along with what we were doing. For instance, if we had to leave the classroom and John didn't want to go, he'd get in line—but then walk as slowly as possible. The more his classmates and I urged him to walk faster, the slower he would go. At each deliberate step, I could feel my blood pressure rise. But in that moment, I could do little. I couldn't physically make John walk faster; nor was he ready to rationally discuss his feelings or options. Rarely did a student's behavior get to me, but John's resistance always did.