The stops and starts of the second semester are killing my motivation. One of my students pointed out today was our first full school day since last Thursday. We went: Power outage –> three days of school –> Ice Day –> MLK Day –> early release due to lake effect blizzard –> two hour delay.
The doldrums of the school year are here early. And I’m dead in the water.
Wise people have suggested a makeover of the school calendar:
What if we just took January off? Let’s miss all the worst parts of winter altogether.
I gotta admit, it’s tempting. It’s still butt-dark at 7:00 am these days. Cold, snow, wind, ice. Gotta build in extra time in the morning to scrape car windows and let the car heat up. Just crawling out of bed is a monumental challenge.
It’s that time of year, even if you aren’t the praying sort:
All I know is: momentum is real. Inertia too. I need a push. Maybe helping my POE class learn to code will turn the tide. There are some glimmers of hope from the move to flip my instruction in Algebra II: students who have struggled are getting some small-group attention and it’s paying dividends. More than once I’ve heard a student say, leaving class, “hey, I learned something today!” I’m about to break out DIY Kahoot for a review activity. Because the one who does the work does the learning. Also, this is definitely the kind of group that keeps score. At this point, hey, anything to turn the sails.
Because just sitting here stewing and wishing ain’t gonna move the ship.
I love it here in the future. I’ll never go back. And this morning I woke up one year farther into the 21st century.
One of the benefits of modern life is the support that comes from connectedness. When you scratch out that list of resolutions, you don’t have to look far for resources to help you along. You might still stumble and fall along the way, but you know someone’s got your back.
A few years ago the great JenFulwiler put together a Saint Name generator for folks who are looking to jump-start the search for a patron or intercessor. This year I got St. Francis de Sales (patron of writers and journalists). He spent three years of his life going door-to-door throughout the French countryside trying to teach the faith. No one would listen. He had door after door slammed in his face.
I can relate. As Dan Meyer famously said, “I teach high school math. I sell a product that people don’t want, but are forced by law to buy.” At least in St. Francis I’ll have someone to commiserate with.
As an added bonus for 2017, Jen built a word generator. Perfect for those “One Word” or “word of the year” people who are everywhere today.
Of course, because Children Must Play™, some of Jen’s online connects mashed up their saint and word. Hilarity ensued:
People are making up stories about their alter egos that they get from combining their saint of the year with their word of the year and it's MAKING MY LIFE. https://t.co/skgwc4QbL9
I’m Francis Presence. No editor or producer would take that character name seriously.
But, “presence.” Hmmm. Hold that thought….
A few weeks back I stumbled across a blog post by Allyson Apsey suggesting folks make a playlist for the new year, rather than making resolutions. I have the usual resolutions, yeah, but I also have a #2018Playlist. As I wrote when I first encountered Allyson’s post, I wanted a playlist in chunks that could be selected to fit a mood.
We’re at a place in the school year and just life in general where everything is a grind. Fitting that mood perfectly is a song I borrowed from one of my oldest son’s playlists, “Hurricane” by Band of Heathens (covering a Levon Helm tune)
Back that up with “All These Things I’ve Done” from the Killers, and a pair from Tenth Avenue North: “You Are More” and “Losing”, and we’re off to a low-key start to power through day-to-day frustrations.
The mid-section is designed to provide a power boost, or at least an upbeat accompaniment to housework or grading, anchored by Jet’s rave-up “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” (which is also my go-to running song when I need to dig deep):
Queens Of The Stone Age and Greta Van Fleet both deal in an updated 70s sound, providing a bridge from past to present before the Church and Lord Huron bring the thing in for a landing.
So, I’m self-aware enough to build a playlist that is in tune with my needs. What about when we turn the tables? Can I shift gears to meet my students’ needs? Can I be “present” for them? It should be part of the package, like a basketball coach adjusting his playbook to match his players’ talents.
The turn of calendar brings soul-searching and goal-setting in many areas; the classroom is no different. And this year, my tribe has some backup in the form of Indiana Connected Educators. ICE Indiana is offering teachers here a chance to jump-start their 2018 with an “I will” sharing challenge:
This year, I will try to create situations in my Alg II classroom where I can give my students more individual attention. Flipping the notes & the practice sets, and using the "island-peninsula-land" method of flexible grouping. #ICEindiana#INeLearnhttps://t.co/CkIZhGN11W
We’re at the point of the Algebra II curriculum where everything is new and challenging, and more theoretical. My track 3 students are not likely to move on to Pre-Calculus as seniors, almost all will take either probability & statistics or a college readiness bridge course that hits the power standards of Algebra I, Algebra II, and Geometry. They need more time in class to work through practice problems and get help. Looking back to last year, the opposite happened. We would spend almost the entire period on warm-up, homework questions (numerous, because they didn’t get enough time to practice and ask questions in class), and new notes. By April we were all miserable.
So what am I going to try in order to fix this issue?
I am already embedding a video of me working through my notes into the Canvas page for each lesson. My hope is that students who are absent or want to work ahead or need to see the examples worked again can refer back to the video, as often as they need.
What if…. I followed the lead of several teachers in my department who are flipping their instruction? Students watch the video on their own, take notes, and write a brief summary (picked that up from PoojaAgarwal‘s Ditch That Textbook Summit session with Matt Miller). Then the bellringer is a quick formative assessment to gauge their understanding and engage prior knowledge, and the bulk of class is spent on working through the practice set. As Matt Miller and Alice Keeler point out in their book Ditch That Homework, this gives them access to a trained professional teacher when they need help.
OK, so now we’re building in work time in class, but what about my kids who need extra help? There’s still one of me and 30 of them.
Divide and Conquer, baby. Divide and conquer.
I picked up a strategy about 10 years ago at a workshop. Two downstate Indiana teachers who paired up to share their two classes developed a differentiated instruction method they called “Island – Peninsula – Land”. Based on a quick formative assessment (walking around and peeking over shoulders, even), the teacher quickly sorts his students into three groups:
The Island group is completely self-sufficient. These are the “just give me the assignment so I can get it over with” students. They don’t need my help, so they can go off and do their thing.
The Peninsula group can mostly do the work, but might need a boost from time to time. They can send an envoy to the Island group to ask for help with a specific question.
The Land group does not know how or where to start. They need the most help, so I sit with that group for the session.
It’s been awhile since I’ve used this tactic. The last few years my classes were all “Land” – I really didn’t have anybody who could work through a set of problems on their own, so I shelved I-P-L. This seems like as good a time as any to resurrect it.
Gonna run this by my department chair and get ready to roll on 1/8/18.
And don’t be bashful. Jump on the #ICEindiana hashtag on Mondays and Try, and Share, and Encourage, and Remember, and Learn.
It’s also the first day of Christmas Break that I had nothing scheduled in the morning, aside from making coffee and breakfast for Mrs. Dull. Seemed like a really good morning to make a list:
The great Colin Powell used to say: “never step on another man’s enthusiasm”. I’d add: never step on your own enthusiasm. Christmas Break will fly by in a heartbeat. Untold number of 911’s will pop up to make some simple task that should take 5 minutes last an hour. So when I’m motivated to knock out some housework, schoolwork, and some #WednesdayMorningPD, I’m gonna take advantage. Because To Everything There Is A Season:
Mrs. Dull, to me this morning: "Why are *you* tired? You slept like 10 hours yesterday!"
I’ve been a long-time fan of MattMiller. Reading his blog, borrowing ideas, hitting him up for “how-to” help when preparing to make a short G-Suite presentation to some teaching colleagues, reading his books, the whole schmeer. The last two years he’s called in some favors with fellow teacher leaders and organized a virtual summit over Christmas Break. The 2016 edition was fruitful, and when I heard he was planning on a new set of conversations this year, I signed up for email notifications right away.
Then of course, life got in the way. The #DitchSummit opened on December 15, and my district was in session until 12/22. Which the mathematically inclined amongst you will note, was 72 hours until Christmas Day. We cleaned house and made cookies and entertained and shopped and went to Mass (twice!) and met with family and and and and and…
Here it is, December 27, and I’m just now sitting down to check in on the Summit. I know better than to try to binge-watch them all in one day. Plus that would just sidetrack me from my list. So I made a ranking, by topic, ordering the sessions. They are obviously all talented presenters and brilliant people, but somebody has to be first. And last, for that matter.
The short version is a riff on the flight attendant instructions to secure your own oxygen mask before trying to help others. A burned-out, unhappy teacher is not going to create a very conducive learning environment for his students.
As a guy who broke the “highly effective” scale last year but only graded out as “effective” this year, much to the detriment of my ego, she definitely caught my attention when she talked about the cost of that incremental gain:
“We have to be okay with effective if our personal lives are being outrun.” Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. #ditchsummit@strobeled
Which is at least partly why I took part of the morning to put together my #2018Playlist. And then let it play while folding clothes and doing dishes and whatnot. Which was of course the whole idea behind the playlist in the first place.
There’s more to do today. And every day. I’m just gonna ride the wave and keep getting done what needs to be done, interspersed with some opportunities to just sit and chill.
And maybe take a walk on a frozen beach if I’m lucky.
I was back over in Lake County for a basketball game last weekend. Aside from the grounded-ness of returning (however briefly) to the Tribal Homeland, I was reminded that you haven’t really lived until you’ve barreled down an urban expressway at 75 mph boxed in between semis. For 11 years I did it daily, but it’s been awhile. It’s like riding a bike tho. Right back in the groove. Like I never left.
Back in the day I would knock out a Rosary while winding through the back roads to the Borman Expressway entrance, but I made a playlist to accompany me on the second half of the 35-minute drive: “The Bor-Monster” soundtrack. It’s made in chunks so I can pick the part that fits the mood of the day.
The opening set of Anberlin’s “Impossible”, “Walk” from the Foos, and The Ataris cover of “Boys Of Summer” is a perfect start-me-up for Mondays.
The pairing of “Help Is On The Way” by Rise Against and “Seven Nation Army” is like a mental workout on a heavy bag. It’s way more productive to sing out your anger and frustrations than to punch things… like walls.
And every Friday I pulled into the parking lot with Soul Asylum’s “Somebody To Shove” followed by “Dare You To Move” (Switchfoot) jangling in my speakers.
I miss that drive in sometimes, and the way the tunes helped me get my head straight for the day.
So we’re in the St. Thomas More gym in Munster for my youngest son’s basketball game. While the 7th grade game was going on I was checking Teacher Twitter and stumbled across this:
If Charlie Brown lived in 2017, he’d probably have a “Melancholy Christmas” playlist on his Spotify.
I feel you, my dude.
Christmas is a complicated time just in general, between cultural expectations, family obligations, tenuous finances stretched thin, and the darkness that envelops the world 15 hours a day. It’s pretty easy to get shrouded in gloom.
Sometimes, both in one day. And by “sometimes” I mean every day.
I had exactly that pillar to post experience Friday. My Introduction to Engineering Design classes are working on a long-term project known as Ballandia gifted to me by my department chair.
The object is to create a 2-foot square world made of found materials, a mashup of Rube Goldberg and Roller Coaster, in which a ping-pong ball will travel for 45 seconds. It’s not super-complicated but it is a lot of work, and there’s no template. Trial and error is the foundational concept. Students build their own design from the base up, meaning for a lot of my kids they are being pushed way out of their comfort zone.
But when they nail it, hitting all the criteria and constraints of the job, oh is it ever joyous:
Like, how often is there a fist pump and a “Yesss!” in my class?
“Oh, life is like that. Sometimes, at the height of our revelries, when our joy is at its zenith, when all is most right with the world, the most unthinkable disasters descend upon us.”
OK, that’s a bit overdramatic. But the euphoria doesn’t last long. In any season. We’re in the homestretch in Algebra II, learning the last few topics of the semester before finals, meaning a) it’s the hardest math we’ve done all year, and b) my students are distracted and unmotivated.
I know better than to try to stand and deliver at this time of year, and there’s no better way to get a student hooked in than by creating an opportunity for them to discover a concept by trial and error.
We did a polynomial function discovery activity (via JonOrr) in Desmos, giving students a chance to scale up prior knowledge, extending a pattern from quadratic to cubic, and theoretically beyond. Not ideal, but considering the time constraints, it had potential to get us all what we wanted and/or needed from the day.
Some got it. Most didn’t. Crud. Only some unintentional student humor saved the day:
Me: "Wait. Hold on. We've never even studied that kind of function, and you're telling me you can write an equation for it just by looking at the roots? How can that happen?"
Maybe I needed more time for them to explore. Maybe I needed to re-engage prior knowledge better first. Maybe a page of practice problems and traditional notes would have been better for this group of kids and this topic.
But it’s plain as day: They just want out. That two weeks of sleeping in is so close. I’ve avoided a “Christmas Break Countdown”, except for making note of the days remaining to outline our schedule for review days and Final Exams. But the light is growing dim.
I know we’re not supposed to count the days. But we’re kidding ourselves if we think our kids aren’t counting.
Bob Knight, for all his faults, was a master of understanding human nature. He famously pushed his players right up to the breaking point multiple times during a season, always knowing exactly the right moment to pull back and sneak in a break.
That’s the challenge for teachers at this time of the year. I’m tempted to drive all-out until Finals Week. (“You guys, we have to cover this material. Its on The Final!”) I know better. We build in Friday Fun all year long. The trick is to recognize when my students need a cutback day, to create the opportunities for learning that fit their needs. Notes, practice sets, Desmos, games, everything.
Maybe the trick (in teaching, and in navigating Christmastime in general) is to manage expectations, be cool with Less-Than-Perfect, to prioritize, and to make a plan in advance.
Because it’s a long December. In every sense of the word.
I’ve almost certainly already lived more than half my life. Vegas oddsmakers would consider it a lock.
I turned 50 late last summer. About the same time, one of my favorite twitter follows, a former-atheist-now-Catholic-nun Sr. Theresa Aletheia, placed a skull on her desk. And began to tweet about it using the hashtag #mementomori.
Memento mori is a Latin phrase literally translated as “remember that you will die”. More importantly, it is an ancient Christian practice, as Sr. Theresa writes:
“A long-standing Christian tradition recognizes the powerful spiritual value in remembering one’s death in order to live well. The Rule of Saint Benedict, written in the 6th century, includes the imperative to “keep death daily before one’s eyes.” As the Catechism points out, both Scripture and the teachings of the Church remind us of “the responsibility incumbent upon man to make use of his freedom in view of his eternal destiny” (1036, emphasis mine).”
All I want for Christmas now is a skull for my desk.
(Look, if you’re wierded out by this, or think all this Catholic stuff is medieval superstition, that’s fine. There’s lots of stuff out there on the interwebs more suited to your interests and beliefs. I’m not offended if you click away. But if you are intrigued: bear with me.)
I’m not dying. Although as my sainted mother, a school nurse, used to say, “from the day we are born, we begin to die”. She and Sr. Theresa would have got along fine. But I definitely believe in preparing for death. And for other things.
Everyone above the age of reason knows intellectually they are going to die someday. And then they go about their business, not giving it another thought. I see the value in keeping death before me always. Especially if how I live my life now determines my address for eternity.
I wear glasses because I can’t see very well without them. I make lists because I forget things sometimes if they are not written down. It’s good to be reminded of important things, even things that seem obvious.
I’ve said many times I wouldn’t go back to high school right now if you paid me a million bucks. Kids have it rough, man. And I’m not sure the adults in a building make things any easier sometimes.
We try. The good ones recognize kids have off days, get distracted, have talents in other areas. In case we forget, there’s always teacher evaluations to remind us what being a student can be like.
Had my evaluation last month. Met my administrator for a post-conference last week. As a former colleague of mine used to say, I’m too old and have been teaching too long to stress out over evaluations. Except this time, I did stress.
My heart sank. All that stuff… it’s literally what I do. Like, if I have a “teacher brand”, that’s it. I left the meeting thinking, “she doesn’t know me.”
And that’s partly my fault. She’s got 100 teachers on staff, and she moved over an office this year, from associate principal to principal. I just got here last year. I’m not that big into self-promotion, despite what you might see from me on Twitter. I’ve shared with my department a lot of the new tactics I’ve picked up from my online PLN, even presented on how to build a PLN at a conference last summer. But I find myself backing off sometimes, just because I don’t want to be that guy who won’t shut up about Desmos and speed dating and Which One Doesn’t Belong.
So of course, I spent some time pondering the situation.
“No significant learning can occur without a significant relationship.”
— Dr. James Comer
If there’s one piece of advice every veteran teacher offers to every new teacher, it’s: “build relationships”. That nothing happens until an adult builds a rapport with a student, as East Chicago’s Dr. James Comer said. We know this intuitively. It’s not the kind of thing we need to remind ourselves of every day.
Or do we?
I was reminded this week how it feels when someone who you work with, who you rely on for a “grade”, doesn’t really know you. I don’t need to be the Golden Child. She’s my principal, I’m a teacher, let’s roll. But it’s always nice to feel like someone’s been paying attention.
So… how do my students feel about me? I know who plays basketball and who’s a dancer and who’s into computers and who roots for Michigan and who’s a photographer and who’s a runner and who hates school and who moved here from Chicago and who draws and who skates and who goes to the career center and who waits tables nights and weekends and who plays guitar and who likes cats and who’s been coding since they were 7 and, and, and, and, and.
But do they all feel like I know them? I could do better. I guarantee it. It feels like something important enough to remind myself about. Often.
Back in 1998, America’s Greatest Living Writer, Peggy Noonan, sensing a Bad Thing coming, wrote a column called “There Is No Time. There Will Be Time“. Two decades later, it stands up pretty well as a glimpse at life in the late 20th century. Near the end, she related a story:
“I once talked to a man who had a friend who had done something that took his breath away. She was single, middle-aged and middle class, and wanted to find a child to love. She searched the orphanages of South America and took the child who was in the most trouble, sick and emotionally unwell. She took the little girl home and loved her hard, and in time the little girl grew and became strong, became, in fact, the kind of person who could and did help others. Twelve years later, at the girl’s high-school graduation, she won the award for best all-round student. She played the piano for the recessional. Now she’s at college.
The man’s eyes grew moist. He had just been to the graduation. “These are the things that stay God’s hand,” he told me. I didn’t know what that meant. He explained: these are the things that keep God from letting us kill us all.
So be good. Do good. Stay His hand. And pray.”
–Peggy Noonan, “There Is No Time, There Will Be Time”, Forbes ASAP, November 30, 1998
“These are the things that stay God’s hand”….
I’m kind of a pessimist by nature. Every now and then I need to remind myself of the good stuff that’s out there. The good people out there. And every now and then the reminder kind of rears up and makes itself sort of unmistakable.
Then there are the rare occasions when I get three or four reminders in a row that just line themselves up like incoming flights at ORD. As St. John Paul II used to say:
Over the summer, and again at the World Series, you may have seen the story of Hailey Dawson, a 7-year-old Henderson, NV girl who was born with a partially-developed right arm, and who now wears a custom 3-D printed prosthetic hand. She has a goal of throwing out the first pitch at all 30 MLB parks.
“Normally when I walk into a situation like this, I was selling them on why they should do this for my daughter,” she said. “Two of the professors emailed me and asked me to come in, and when we met, they sold me. They were trying to sell me on picking them.”
I love the tenacity and audacity of the mom who contacted everyone she could think of to make something that would let her daughter do all the things every other 7-year old does. And I love how the teachers and students at UNLV were all in:
“We had been working with robotics with eight years. We had coached robotic teams. We had been working with 3-D printers for about 10 years, so it caught my interest just because it was a combination of robotics and 3-D printing and a cool story,” O’Toole said. “A little girl needed a hand because she wanted to play baseball and ride a bike.”
You know the Clemente story. Or maybe you don’t. All I know is it’s the first headline I ever remember seeing in the Chicago Tribune, January 2, 1973. Rizzo’s gesture is perfect. Only someone who is genuinely paying attention could be that smooth. There’s enough horrible human beings in the world. We could use more Rizzos.
Of course, Anthony Rizzo is wealthy beyond my wildest dreams. The goodwill accruing to the engineering department at UNLV from the “Hailey’s Hand” story is priceless. It’s easy for them to give. But what about Joe Six-Pack? He can’t make a difference with the extra five bucks in his pocket after buying pizza on the way home from his kids’ basketball practice, and filling the gas tank, and buying a bottle of wine for his wife after a long work week… right?
My youngest son has discovered an old jacket of mine, an IU award-style coat with leather sleeves and “INDIANA” on a nameplate on the back. It’s ancient, but he thinks its cool and wants to wear it, so we took it to a cleaner in town. When we went to pick it up, I noticed a small, unassuming sign in the window:
It’s got like 125 “likes” and 700-some shares. Not because my post is all that brilliant, but because people want to do good things. And they want to nod their chin at others who do good too. And there’s something to that. We just had the conversation in class this morning that in 2017, the whole world is “every man for himself, I got mine, I give zero Fs”. Everybody can see the meanness in the world. A gesture like that from a mom-and-pop business in a little Indiana town confirms our best hopes for the world.
So…. so what. What can you do with that? How can I bring a little light to my little corner of the world? Here’s how:
“She didn’t give up on me because I was “too far behind” or because “it was too late”. She changed the course of my life. I graduated college summa cum laude with a bachelor of science degree in mathematics. I received a full graduate fellowship to Wake Forest University in mathematics. I was able to choose the mathematics path because ONE teacher cared.
She is why I became a teacher. She will forever be my inspiration. I may not ever be as gifted of a teacher as she is. However, I can care as much for my students as she cared for me. Hopefully, I can improve someone’s life as she improved mine.”
-Julie Reulbach, “Change Someone’s Math… Care”, I Speak Math blog, July 7, 2010
Caring costs literally nothing. And yeah, I know we’re supposed to be doing that all the time. And we’re trying. But: It’s November, and I guarantee you the teachers I know are tired. Already. As a colleague told me one year around this time, “I’m just hoping to make it to Thanksgiving”. All it takes sometimes is a little reminder, or four, and it’s like an Underdog Super Energy Pill.
No, that’s not what it was like at all. In reality, well, it takes students a minute to get on board with something new. I had to take a sub day on short notice on Friday, but I had fortunately planned far enough ahead that my materials were already set up in Canvas for all my PLTW classes and my Algebra II students. All they had to do was sit back, absorb some instructions and/or notes, and commence to churning out pure awesomeness. The worked out examples we do in class are embedded right inside the slides:
Students: “The assignment was easy. We could do that. But we couldn’t do the notes.”
We ended up going back over everything on Tuesday. OK, they need some guidance on this. Digital Natives or no, they need someone to teach ’em what they don’t know how.
Which is how I came to be teaching them Desmos on a Tuesday morning. I had embedded a quickie Desmos activity into their practice set Friday. Problem is, I’m not sure in retrospect they know how to graph a function in Desmos. Actually, after I looked at the dashboard, I know they didn’t know how to graph a function in Desmos.
“So how many of you had a teacher who used Desmos with you last year? Wait. None?!?!? You never? Really? Well guess what: This is your lucky day, kiddies.”
Angel choirs sing, rainbows arch across the sky, unicorns prance, chocolate abounds.
So step One: How to enter a function into Desmos:
OK, so that doesn’t look like much of anything that tells us anything about this flight. But wait. You guys, does negative time or negative distance make sense in this problem? No, they tell me. Great. Let’s get rid of those portions of the coordinate plane:
Now let’s start rubbing some brain cells together:
That took us to the end of class but definitely lit a fire. I sent them home with instructions to finish the activity. Many tore into it during their study hall, because when I went back to check the dashboard on my prep the thing was lit up like a Christmas tree.
From what I’ve been able to gather from observing other 1:1 initiatives from a distance, this is a huge step. In this order: Got the teachers trained up, got some in-house tech coaches in place, now we give the students the guidance they need and we are ready to rock.
In 2017, we’re really bad at delayed gratification. Even the microwave isn’t fast enough. I want results and I want them yesterday.
But for most of the really important things, we need to play The Long Game.
I write this on the feast day of St. Monica, a fourth-century African woman best known as the mother of Augustine, who was breaking his mother’s heart with his immoral lifestyle.
This holy woman followed her brilliant, worldly son all over Italy. Her best weapon, aside from proximity, was nearly 20 years of unceasing heart-rending prayer for him. Who (after he came under the tutelage of St. Ambrose, Bishop of Milan) we now know as St. Augustine, author of City of God and Confessions, and a Doctor of the Church.
Persistence pays off, people. A good teacher never hurts, either.
It’s easy to see kids as they are, and not as they will be. Even for those of us with a vivid imagination.
But: there is a tomorrow. And the world doesn’t stop spinning when they turn 18.
And that goes for our college-bound students, and for our kids who don’t like math and don’t like school. Those are my people, by the way.
I read a couple of success stories today that made me smile. One was of a student of mine a year ago, a cross-country runner who is rebounding from injuries and took first place at an invite over the weekend.
He ran well at the state track finals last May and has put in the work all summer, so this win wasn’t altogether unexpected.
The second item made me do a double-take.
Woah. A solid student and a good football player in high school, he made a name for himself at a JUCO outside of Chicago, but the NFL is pretty much uncharted territory for a school not known as a football factory.
Good for him. But there were others, you know.
One of the more interesting and unusual teachers I had in high school was my Journalism teacher, Ms. Mayer. All “creatives” stereotypes aside she was the type who dropped Jefferson Airplane references into her lectures, carried a travel mug of coffee everywhere (before Starbucks was a thing), challenged our thinking and let free spirits fly their freak flag.
I was a wannabe jock at the time. Her take on the jock culture in high school was: yes, the football players and cheerleaders should march in the Homecoming parade. Of course. But so should the girls who work at Burger King, the guys who fix cars with their dads after school, and the kids who play in garage bands. Why was their extra-curricular activity not recognized?
Know what? She was right.
Those guys I wrote about up there? They earned the newspaper coverage they got. Don’t take that away from them. But I also keep in touch with a lot of former students via social media. With some space between them and high school, they are now moms, and dads, and husbands, and wives, and college students, and graduates, and servicemen and women, and folks holding down jobs and grinding out a living every day.
Guess they’re doing OK in the real world, huh?
I’m just happy that I’m here to see it. But happier for them that they get to live it.
There’s two kinds of people in this world. Two kinds of teachers, too. You probably know them both.
If you’ve lived in the Chicago area for any length of time, or ever caught the WGN News when it was a superstation and not WGN America, you’ve probably seen Tom Skilling’s weather segment.
I want to love just one thing in my life, for just a millisecond, as much as Skilling loves the weather. He reported on #SolarEclipse2017 today from downstate Carbondale, IL, which was in the path of totality.
I’ve been watching Tom Skilling report on weather and climate-related issues for virtually my entire life. I’d bet you he would have walked the length of the state to be on hand for today’s event. His joy was authentic. He shared it with everyone around him.
Here’s how another Chicago-area teacher in my circle of tweeps reacted:
A former student just posted this on Facebook about a Chicago meteorologist. Are you that passionate about teaching? Hope so. Thanks John! pic.twitter.com/PIxOSlDuss
“The Washington Free Beacon captured a bizarre and funny clip from Fox News in which Smith mocks the eclipse, holding his mouse and phone in front of him to show how the eclipse works.”
I don’t know the motivation here. Maybe he was going for a too-cool-for-school, so-over-it kind of thing, and couldn’t pull it off. Maybe he genuinely didn’t get the national obsession with a celestial event that for a lot of folks comes along once a generation or so. But whatever the source, it wasn’t a good look for the guy who is widely seen (rightly or wrongly) as a voice of reason amongst partisans.
And if I know myself the way I think I do, some dark, cold Tuesday in November my little cherubs will be working my last nerve and I’ll be unable to suppress the temptation and I’ll let loose a similar string of ridiculous snark in front of a class full of kids.
It won’t be a good look for me, either.
As teachers, we don’t want to be judged by our worst moment (although we hope to be evaluated on our best moments, right?).
I’ll make a re-commitment today to not judge Shep on an off-day.
My kids either. Because there’s two kinds of people in the world.