…Since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
I will be brief…Hamlet, Act II, Scene II
About three hours ago, I arrived home from the National Council of Teachers of Mathematics annual conference. For less than 48 hours, I accumulated more experiences than would be wise to replay here, so I’ll pick a few standouts.
There are no proper nouns in this post, so if you and I hugged, shook hands, did math together, or chatted in the last couple days, then just assume I’m writing about you.
Within a few minutes of arriving in San Diego on Thursday night, a half-dozen friends gave me hugs and invited me to sit with them. Now, “friends” is an unusual term to use here, since we only see each other once a year or so. But this small, unruly cohort (affectionately called the Math-Twitter-Blogosphere or #MTBOS) attempts to be inclusive, inviting, and loyal all at the same time.
So to define “a peer in the field of math education who is interested in sharing their practice, learning from other, and contributing to the field as a whole,” let’s use the term math-friend throughout here.
Peak Moments
Read the next two sentences together before having any feelings about them, please.
More than once this weekend, I met a new math-friend who said, “I saw you speak before,” or “I have your book,” or “I follow you on Twitter.” Invariably, I try to turn that recognition into camaraderie, to lower the perceived podium and sit alongside these new math-friends to learn together.
The NCTM conference is full of teachers who fill big rooms at conference centers and get lots of notifications on their phone. Whatever word you wanna use to describe that group, they are only math-friends if they uplift and encourage others from the stage.
The type of math-friend I want to be is a curious consumer of fresh ideas, an earnest listener of shared experience, and a good hugger.
I hugged a lot this weekend.
Those hugs, those fresh ideas, and those shared experiences gave me life and encouragement and the strength to dig my fingers back into my local school system like it’s fresh pizza dough, shaping and molding with renewed vigor.
The conference was full of Peak Moments (I think that’s the term), where things felt great and I was inspired.
Valley Moments
For some, the conference had its share of valley moments, too.
(That’s … probably a term I just made up.)
A sewage pipe burst at the Hilton, so I was roused from slumber after 4 hours with the smell of untreated shit wafting through the drains in my hotel. Not my favorite way to begin a day of learning, but I rallied.
Years ago, when I first went to college, I was brought low by the newly raised bar of academic achievement. Suddenly, everybody in my classes was capable and hard-working, and sliding through class without breaking a sweat was no longer an option for me. It was humbling.
That’s how some of us feel at these events; some of the top math educators in the world converge on one spot and share their favorite ideas. Compared to those folk, what I did in class last week wasn’t so special.
image: rawpixel
You’re a Great Teacher
If you’ll indulge a food analogy:
Defining a “great” chef is a challenge.
Cooking (like teaching) is relative, prone to interpretation, and tough to nail down. Throughout the last couple days, I had a Cuban sandwich, a breakfast buffet, and a bacon burger, all of which were “great” in their own way.
Teachers, it’s easy to glance sideways at your fellow chefs and compare. What’s “great” for your classroom is always going to be different from your neighbor, and you can be great at dozens of things, all of which combine to make you a great teacher.
You’re a great teacher.
NCTM and Twitter and math-friends all combine to us more great.
More tools, more ideas, more resources, more support, and more hugs.
~Matt “More Hugs” Vaudrey
NOTE: Hilton responded really well. They got me a fresh room in the morning and 50,000 Hilton points towards a future stay.
If I weren’t so exhausted, I would have asked for the points/dollars conversion and compared it against nightly rates.
Instead, I just said, “Thanks,” and went to get dressed.