Should I Stay Or Should I Go

I’ve been told by teaching colleagues that I am too analytical. It’s a pretty good read. I’ve never been comfortable flying by the seat of my pants. I’d rather have as much information as I can get and have the pieces more or less in place before making a move.

Although that one Teddy Roosevelt quote hangs behind my desk because sometimes you just have to make a decision.

It’s not always possible to have all the knowledge you need. To be honest, a key moment in my life was when I learned to operate in a grey area, when “black-and-white” is not one of the options.

Did I ever tell you about the time we bought a house sight-unseen? Moving back to the Region from Vegas, we had enough money to fly back for job interviews but not enough to come back a second time for house hunting. We did our research online (on the baby Internet back in 2005), my wife’s stepdad was our agent, we’d find a house, he’d check it out and report back. He eventually did the walkthrough of the house we selected on his flip phone while we stood in the kitchen of our house in Vegas.

Sold. We never saw it in person until we pulled up in the U-Haul.

That’s when I understood the Colin Powell 40-70 rule. General Powell felt if he couldn’t be 40% sure the outcome of a decision, that was a “no”. But he also recognized he would never have 100% of the information, so he set 70% as the threshold. Once he was 70% positive, that was a “go”.

And so it is in so many areas of life. Gather your data, assess the probabilities, move forward. It’s why the probability unit in Algebra II is so rich with opportunities for real-life connections. Yeah, we do do plenty of Fundamental Counting Principle practice, we figure permutations and combinations (“How many ways can three runners finish first, second, and third in the 100-meter dash in a field of eight runners?”)

But the big money payoff is when students see how understanding probabilities and likely outcomes can help them manage an uncertain (at best) world.

We start the prob/stats unit with a deep dive into March Madness, including a bracket challenge with their new-found handicapping knowledge.

Then out of long habit I make the assessment for the unit a pair of activities: First (because Indiana), John Scammell’s “Free Throws For The Win” .

They were like “Mr. Dull can we do something happy tomorrow? Because that was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

We follow that up with an investigation into the Monty Hall Problem (doc here). Both days they do real math and see the real applications of probability that they can start using really as soon as tomorrow.

The big takeaways are that even what seem like highly improbable things still sometimes happen. And that just because something is statistically your best move doesn’t always guarantee success. You have twice the probability of winning the car on Let’s Make A Deal by switching doors, but in any one play (which is all you get when you are a contestant), there is still a 1-in-3 chance you get the Zonk.

Goat šŸ™‚

Weigh your options, and roll.

A lot of my friends in the building are making exactly these mental calculations these days. At our next school board meeting next week the district is expected to announce its decision on school closures and teacher layoffs. Consensus is we will shutter 4 of our 12 elementary schools, and we were told back in November that the defeat of a funding referendum would require cutting 250 teaching positions.

But as a colleague of mine pointed out, folks aren’t waiting. In his words, they are “RIFfing themselves”, lining up new jobs before the axe can fall. In some cases, making the move before the school year is done. We had four resignations from just my building on the personnel report last month, and I suspect the number will be similar this month. (That’s 10 percent of our teaching staff in eight weeks, if you’re scoring at home). And can you blame them? As the famous economist observation goes, when you lose your job, unemployment in your house is 100%. It doesn’t matter what the “official” statistics say.

I’ve been on the other side. Some time ago I left the district I call “the Family Business” for a green leafy suburban school. Well, the grass isn’t always greener. I came back. For the people and the kids. I took a pay cut to do it. There’s no district out there where the hallways are paved with gold. Few are paying significantly more than we are. There are so many districts (even in relatively affluent areas) in financial distress right now, it’s the living embodiment of “the devil you know”. You could jump districts and land someplace worse.

I feel horrible for the families who will have to make plans for their kids to attend a different school next year. For the kids who will leave their friends. I ache for my teacher friends who are going to be forced out of a job they’ve poured their soul into. For the clerical staff and custodians who won’t even be allowed to finish out the year. I’ve been told that due to the number of vacancies and emergency permit folks in the district, teachers with a degree and a license are probably safe. But even for the folks who are above the cut line, the daily anxiety over the future permeating my building is physically exhausting.

And the concessions that will likely be written into our contract (yeah that’s not even settled yet, five months after the state-mandated deadline to conclude negotiations) are frankly petty and punitive and are chasing teachers away. Folks who stay will get no raise and shoulder the burden of an unsustainable insurance premium increase.

Tuesday of Holy Week, this line from the Gospel of John hit hard:

Jesus answered, ā€œIt is the one to whom I hand the morsel after I have dipped it.ā€ So he dipped the morsel and [took it and] handed it to Judas, son of Simon the Iscariot.  After he took the morsel, Satan entered him. So Jesus said to him, ā€œWhat you are going to do, do quickly.ā€

https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John%2013:26-28&version=NABRE

That’s all of us right now: whatever the plan is, get on with it. Just tell us. Then we can take that information and make a decision.

Just like they taught us back in Algebra II all those years ago.

Living With Uncertainty

Either this is all a big nothingburger, or one day soon we’re all going to look back on these photos and cry.

I’m betting on cry, though:

I live about as far away from that distrcit as you can be and still be in Indiana, but this teacher’s comments kind of sum it up:

ā€œI most definitely felt like we were not ready,ā€ said Russell Wiley, a history teacher at nearby Greenfield-Central High School. ā€œReally, our whole stateā€™s not ready. We donā€™t have the virus under control. Itā€™s just kind of like pretending like itā€™s not there.ā€

And honestly, “not ready” doesn’t mean “didn’t plan”. It’s just that there’s some things that just can’t be open safely right now. And schools are probably one of those things.

This post from University of Colorado-Denver educational leadership professor Scott McLeod showed up in my feed this week. He offered some statements that every superintendent and school board member should read and ponder before making a re-opening decision:


How many kids have to get sick before you shut down again? What are your decision-making criteria? [practice saying these out loud and see how they sit with you]

Well, if 1 kid gets sick, thatā€™s sad but weā€™ll stay openā€¦

Well, if 10 kids get sick, thatā€™s terrible but weā€™ll stay openā€¦

Well, if 100 kids get sick, thatā€™s a tragedy but weā€™ll stay openā€¦

If 50 kids at that one school get sick, we will shut that school down but the rest of the district will stay openā€¦

Until 20% of our students are sick, weā€™ll stay openā€¦

How many educators have to get sick before you shut down again? What are your decision-making criteria? [practice saying these out loud and see how they sit with you]

Well, if 1 educator gets sick, thatā€™s sad but weā€™ll stay openā€¦

Well, if 10 educators get sick, thatā€™s terrible but weā€™ll stay openā€¦

Well, if 100 educators get sick, thatā€™s a tragedy but weā€™ll stay openā€¦

If 20 teachers at that one school get sick, we will shut that school down but the rest of the district will stay openā€¦

Until 30% of our educators are sick, we stay openā€¦

Until we canā€™t get enough substitutes to adequately cover classrooms, we stay openā€¦

How many kids or educators have to die before you shut down again? What are your decision-making criteria? [practice saying these out loud and see how they sit with you]

Well, if 1 kid dies, thatā€™s sad but weā€™ll stay openā€¦

Well, if 10 kids die, thatā€™s a tragedy but weā€™ll stay openā€¦

Well, if 3 teachers die, thatā€™s terrible but weā€™ll stay openā€¦

Well, if 20 teachers die, thatā€™s a tragedy but weā€™ll stay openā€¦

Until 10% of our staff are dying, weā€™ll stay openā€¦”


Honestly, those questions should snap your head back.

I wouldn’t want to be in a role where I needed to make that call. I suspect that in many demographically similar communities to mine, parents really really really want their kids in school (because they remember last spring), until the first positive case turns up. Then they’ll really really really want schools closed, like yesterday. Because how dare you.

We have a special obligation to make decisions in the best interests of the health and safety of our kids. Which makes the school opening decision both seemingly simple, and at the same time incredibly complex. Our students rely on schools for nutrition and counseling and individualized education services that are multiple times more difficult to deliver in a remote learning environment.

Districts across the state spent all summer crafting their contingency plans for re-opening and operating during the pandemic. Then as the number of cases in Indiana accelerated during the summer, several districts have scrapped those plans and opted for a virtual learning mode when school resumes.

On Friday the district where I live announced plans to open on time for in-person learning. The teacher pages I follow lit up like a Christmas tree. It was a bit of a surprise as several nearby districts had already announced plans for a virtual open for the first quarter.

Meanwhile states have been sorting through options for high school sports. Associations in Indiana and Illinois both announced plans Thursday, keeping me (football & wrestling dad) obsessively scrolling my twitter feed for news.

The two states couldn’t have been further apart, philosophically:

One district in my son’s athletic conference, working on the recommendation of the county health department, opted not only to open virtually, it also suspended all extra-curricular activities during e-learning. That means the high school in that district won’t play a football game until the sixth week of the season. Who knows, by then the entire state might be shut down again.

Who’s right? I’ll guess we’ll find out.

Same story with school re-opening in my district and my son’s district. The superintendent in my new district is leaning strongly towards a virtual open. School board will announce on Tuesday. Either way, we’re both ready to roll. Between homelife and his football practices, he’s heard a drumbeat of “control what you can control”. It’s practically a family motto now.

And not just in our family. The latest episode of Jennifer Fulwiler’s podcast “This Is Jen” struck the same chord.

Jen feels like learning to live with uncertainty is a life skill that most of us struggle with. For a lot of us, it doesn’t fit our personality at all. But in our current environment, it’s one of the best tools we have. We kind of have to pick a lane, mash the accelerator, and go.

Of course it helps to do your homework before you pick that lane. Do your research. Ask the “what if?” questions. Play out the worst-case scenario. Use Colin Powell’s 40-70 Rule (Go get his book My American Dream. Summarized: in any moment of decision you’ll never have 100% of the information you need. If you can’t get to 40% sure of the outcome, that’s a no. Once you get to 70% sure, that’s good enough to go with.). Then go.

Her closing piece is underrated: In the darkest times, find the thing that you can control and can get excited about. That thing is going to vary from person to person. Julie Reulbach wrote eloquently about it this week. For teachers staring down a school year that may be filled with fits and starts of in-person instruction mixed with long stretches of virtual learning, that might look something like:

  • planning on paper or a GDoc for the first unit
  • thinking about planning for the first unit while drinking coffee on a rainy Sunday morning
  • touching base with colleagues (tough if you’re changing districts and aren’t on school email yet but an inbox message on social can accomplish the same thing) to get an idea of what you’re teaching
  • or if you are ready: build the slide decks you’ll use for each lesson in the first unit of the year. Now cut the video of you presenting each lesson (Screencastify or Screencast-o-matic is your new best friend).

Eventually you’ll be at the point where your students who are absent or doing virtual learning are covered. And if you get the call tomorrow that school is shutting down and you’re going virtual for the next nine weeks, so are you.

Because that call is coming. Maybe sooner than you think.

Of that, I’m virtually certain.