Mrvaudrey

Author: mrvaudrey

  • The Longest Workday of the Week: A School Day

    As any math teacher will tell you, there are very few “normal” days, so I’ll just pick a day. I rolled a die and came up with a five, so Ibll write about last Friday.

    6:08 AM Alarm goes off. It beeps exactly once before my wife elbows me and hisses, bget it!b. Our eight-week-old baby just finished feeding at 5:30, and my dear little wife is not about to sacrifice a sleeping baby so a husband can snooze.

    One of these things is cute, and one needs to get the hell out of bed.

    6:45 AM Ibm fed, dressed, and packed. My wife packed my lunch the night before (and she has packed 98% of my lunches to date. Sorry, fellas; I got the best wife.), so I grab it from the fridge, kiss my two girls on their sleeping heads, and Ibm off.

    7:12 AM My drive to work is 36 minutes door-to-door, so I have time to listen to NPR, Sigur RE
    s, or stand-up comedy (which I usually save for the drive home).

    7:30 AM Itbs the Friday before Thanksgiving. I graded all of yesterdaybs tests, and the only two items on our class agenda are Notebook Check and Test Corrections. I take the rubrics off my printer and head down to P-13 to borrow the paper-trimmer from Hodge.

    NON-TEACHER NOTE: Students wonbt see my class for nine days. If I assign homework, it wonbt get done. So I have to pick something that can be started in class, completed over the break if the students are really motivated, and optional. Enter the Test Corrections.

    If my life were a movie, it would be called “Enter the Test Corrections”.

    7:52 AM With 20 minutes before students arrive, I organize my desk. If my desk is unorganized, I feel like my life is unorganized. I stack papers, file them, and start a Break To-Do List. It quickly grows to 12 items.

    8:01 AM I have a small guitar amp and an iPod connector. On test days, the day before break, or other exciting days, I play tunes outside my portable. Because the math teachers are all in a row, I play Eye of the Tiger or The Final Countdown on days that we test. It helps take the edge off and, frankly, itbs frigginb fun to dance and rap wearing my test day shirt.

    8:10 AM The bell rings and I step outside to shake the hands of students as Flobotsb bHandlebarsb bumps through 15 watts as bleary-eyed students amble toward the gray doors of our classrooms. My phone rings and four 8th graders yell anxiously, bCan I get it?b I nod to the closest one and keep shaking hands and rapping.

    Look at me, look at me;
    just called to say that itbs good to be
    alive in such a small world.
    All curled up with a book to read.

    I ask the phone student to have Mr. Garrett call back later. Maybe he wants to borrow the video camera again.

    I can show you how to do-si-do,
    I can show you how to scratch a record.
    I can take apart a remote control,
    and I can almost put it back together.

    8:20 AM The announcements are over and I turn my bFill out your planner and start the warm-upb music back on. Consistent procedures breed good behavior, and the first 20 minutes of my class are the same every day.
    I announce as they work, bGet moving, we have the 7th graders coming today.b The class moans.

    I stand up straight with a huge smile. bLetbs try that again, but with a positive attitude: The seventh graders are coming today!b About twelve students cheer and the rest grumble quietly. My class culture is happy, you unenthusiastic turds. Get used to it.

    8:23 AM The timer beeps and students begin presenting the warm-up to the class. My computer is still updating.

    8:26 AM Time for bGood Thingsb, where students share bgood thingsb that are going on in their lives. Any good thing will do, but eventually, everyone must share something. In the interest of time (hat tip to Tim Bedley) , I have them share good things with each other first, then pick three names to share with the class.

    8:27 AM We finish Good Things just as Jennabs class walks up my ramp. Her 7th grade GATE class has been working with my 8th grade iPad Algebra class to team up on the Stock Market Game.

    bWow, Netflix stock seems to be doing well. What else is a business that is on the rise right now?b
    bOuch, McDonaldbs is down a whole dollar from last week. Do you want to trade for something else?b
    bWho else wants a hint? (a few hands wave) Okay, what big products are being released this week? How might those companiesb stocks reflect that?b

    A few students blurt out, bTwilight!b or bBlack Ops II!b before their group shushes them. It is a nationwide contest, after all. One of my groups is ranked 18 out of 50,000.

    “You invested in Blockbuster? Their market share has been in decline for six consecutive quarters!”

    9:07 AM After the 7th graders leave, and we move on to Notebook Check. Itbs the usual bswap with a partnerb and bmake sure you grade fairlyb, except I gave them a rubric so they canbt mess it up. The rest of the period is spent on test corrections.

    9:43 AM Bell rings and I bid them a 9-day farewell. Then I pump up the jams and get ready for period 2.

    10:30 AM The next period goes way smoother. It turns out that 90 minutes is plenty of time to run through our usual classroom routine and still do two other things.

    10:40 AM In the downtime between passing in the notebook checks and passing out tests, one student stands up behind me. Troy is usually running his mouth, and most often about nothing. Here are a few gems:

    • Mr. Vaudrey, being a Siamese twin would be great. You could punch somebody coming at you from the side.
    • Mr. Vaudrey, I had a game this weekend. The coach said that I could play for the high school if I get my grades up.
    • Mr. Vaudrey, rainbow monkeys are like bootleg CareBears.

    This time, however, hebs sticking out his chest and walking towards Lars, who is sitting. Troy is clearly upset, spouting aggressive (but not foul) nonsense:

    bYou think you so bad, talking crap about me? You think I canbt hear you? I know what you said! You got a problem with me? Do something, then!b

    I know that Troy wonbt actually fight Lars, so I calmly direct Troy outside. I have a volunteer collect the rubrics while I ask Lars what happened. He admits that he asked Troy to quit talking so much and Troy got upset.

    One of the things I love about my job is helping adolescents see how their actions define them and helping them see their actions through the eyes of other students. When it works, itbs awesome.

    Vaudrey: Well, then why isnbt Lars outside, too, if he was saying those things?
    Troy: Ohhb& cuz he didnbt stand up and get aggressive.

     

    Truth Bomb.

    11:23 AM The class ends and I have lunch. I pass the time planning my week off and add more items to my To-Do list. It grows to 20 items.

    12:03 PM Algebra Concepts. Ibve written about this class before: about the behavior issues, the challenges, and the draining effect it has on me. I have 90 minutes of semi-structured class time, so if this is to go well, I need to be all business and crack down early. So I do.

    12:20 PM This is going pretty well! Ericabthe RSP teacherbpoints out that: next time, we should just have them grade their own notebooks instead of swapping with someone across the class.

    I donbt care that much. If they cheat, BFD. They stole one percentage point on their grade.

    1:09 PM They finished the notebook check and going over the answers to the test. Here are some highlights from the period so far:

    • Andrew continues to have impulse control and is on the verge of pissing off Ryan so much that hebll throw a punch. I have Andrew pull a desk outside.
    • James (much like Lars) knows that he can say quiet things to antagonize Sandra until she gets loud. I have the exact same conversation with Sandra outside that I had with Troy earlier that day, with one difference:

    Vaudrey: Why are you outside, but James isnbt?
    Sandra: Cuz he be saying stuff about me and Ibm not just gonna sit there and take it.
    Vaudrey: I believe you, but why are you outside and hebs not? Am I picking on you?
    Sandra: No.
    Vaudrey: Am I racist?
    Sandra: No.
    Vaudrey: Then what is it?

    • Mia and Sandra want to work on their project together, so I let Sandra change seats to be closer to Mia. Val, a boy sitting nearby, isnbt happy about it.

    Sandra: Can I work with Mia? Webre partners on this project.
    Vaudrey: Yes, go ahead.
    Val: Aw, man. Do I have to stay here? Now, I have to listen to BOTH of bem.
    Vaudrey: Turn around so you donbt have to see them.
    Sandra: I know he not talkinb to me like that.
    Mia: If he say somethinb to me, Ibm finna slap him. Thatbs just how it is.
    Vaudrey: Thatbs not okay, but itbs your choice.

    1:20 PM Andrew has been working outside for about ten minutes when he pops his head in and cries, bMr. Vaudrey! Therebs some graffiti out here! It wasn’t me!b

    I stroll outside, re-direct Andrew to sit, and follow his finger, bLook!b. On nameplate for my class it says, P-08 Wheelchair Accessible. Below that, in pencil, somebody wrote, fuck you mr vaudrey along with an arrow pointing to my name that says bitch!.

    bIt wasnbt me, I swear!b Andrew looks terrified, so I assure him that I recognize his innocence. I return inside to ponder and I mention to Erica what I just noticed.

    bReally?!b Her eyes get wide, partly because she didnbt think I would quote it while standing near students. I have no qualms about repeating their foul words in class, partly because I like how silly they sound when I repeat exactly what they say. bDo you know who it was?b she asks.

    bMeh. I have a theory (Sandra is the only one whobs been outside for discipline this period), but it doesnbt matter. Itbs more that Ibm sad for them; that they have such anger in their heart.b

    I say this loud enough for several students nearby to hear. One of them is Ryan. Remember him? The one who screamed, bI hate you!b a month ago? He was sitting nearby for my exchange with Erica.

    Ryan stood up and walked directly outside. Andrew was very quick to volunteer his authority on the issue. bSee, Ryan? Itbs right there. I didnbt write it, though. I just found it.b

    Ryan, without a word, begins furiously erasing.

    bRyan,b I say gently. bYou donbt have to do that.b He continues erasing until the words are gone, then until the smudges are gone, then until my nameplate is good as new.

    bThank you, Ryan.b I say softly. Without a word, he returns to his seat with Erica just as the clean-up song plays over my sound system. The class runs through the 11-times-table and the bell rings.

    1:54 PM I call a studentsb mom to see when she will come retrieve his iPad (which was confiscated as he played games in class). Turns out, shebs coming for a conference.

    2:40 PM Conferences for middle-school boys are pretty similar. They go in this order:

    1. Explain in detail each assignment the boy hasnbt done.
    2. Explain in detail an example of his bad behavior.
    3. Pause for the parent to explain how important it is for the boy to do well in school
    4. Make a plan of action with some consequence.

    3:10 PM I excuse myself to go unlock the iPad cart for students after PE. As I leave, the team begins to discuss the idea of this studentbs removal from the iPad class if he canbt pull his grades up.

    3:18 PM All the iPads are gone and students are fleeing the campus for the Thanksgiving break.

    4:10 PM I arrive home to a squirming baby and a wife who is happy to hand her off for a few minutes. We forage from the fridge, and bounce the baby. After watching three episodes of Boy Meets World and talking about our respective days, we put the baby down for the night.

    7:47 PM The wife and I play Tetris. Itbs been five years of marriage and 8 years of dating, and we still play Tetris together. The main difference is that now we have to whisper trash talk so we wonbt wake the baby.

    8:12 PM Baby wakes up again. Wife feeds baby.

    11:11 PM Baby is back in bed. Along with us.

  • My Testing Shirt

    I have a testing shirt.

    I’m not sure how itB becameB my testing shirt, but I faithfully wear it on every day that my students test (including every day of CST). Students and teachers across campus know that it’s a test day when I wear this shirt.

    And occasionally, they dedicate works of art to the shirt.

    (Occasionally, they have forgotten and they remember when they see the shirt. “Awww, we have aB test today?”)

    At Ross my first year teaching, this shirt was just too awesome to turn down. I’ve definitely gotten my $8 worth over the years.

  • Goddess of the Classroom

    I first met Kelli during the first month of my first year teaching.

    Well, I donbt actually recall the day that I met her. My first two weeks of teaching were such a whirlwind–the details meld together into a trauma of botched activities, stuttering lessons, clunky worksheets, and the occasional discipline issue (which soon became frequent discipline issues).

    I do, however, remember when I first saw Kellibs fifth period. My Assistant Principalbafter watching the vehicular collision that was my fifth periodbsaid, bYou have to watch Kelli teach.b

    The next day during my planning period, I followed A.P. into the back of Kellibs class with my notebook, completely clueless for what I would write down.

    I wish I had videotaped itbit was pure poetry. Like watching Olympic figure skating.

    First, the students filed in with subdued murmurs and sat down quietly. I had seen these students during lunchbthey were not quiet people. Kelli taught Algebra Readiness, an 8th grade class for students who didnbt pass Pre-Algebra last year. A rough-and-rowdy bunch of surly teens with odors and attitudes sour enough to curdle the milk in your grammabs teacup. It wasnbt even my class, and I got nervous.

    “Miss Webb, I don’t got a pencil.”

    bPlease take out your packet and turn to S.P. 15.b Kelli calmly intoned over the rustle of paper. The bell had just sounded and all her students were in their seats, most with their pencils out. I looked around the room and thought I was dreaming:

    • Her 18 students were evenly spread throughout the room, most of them alone at a table.
    • All the hats were off.
    • Nobody touched each other.
    • No backpacks or purses were in laps, all rested on the floor or the chair next to them.
    • Most of the students had their packets out and were hunched over them, silently working.

    Kelli began to weave through the rows, giving little comments.

    bThank you for getting started, Jamal.b
    bGood start, Maria. Put your mirror away, please.b

    And this was when I knew I was in the presence of greatness:

    bMiguel, please spit out your gum.b

    Miguel curled his lip, bI donbt have any gum.b

    bLet me tell you what I donbt do.b Kelli bristled, straightening to her full six-foot-two and narrowing her eyes. bI donbt argue with children. Spit it out.b

    I’m surprised Miguel didn’t piss himself. I got chills just writing that.

    Miguel paused, considering his chances of winning a battle with a woman twice his size and thrice his age. He wisely stood and leaned over the trashcan as Kelli moved on to other tables. The thunk of his gum in the metal wastebasket was the only noise in room A5, save for the delicate scratch of pencil on paper.

    After about five minutes, Kelli produced some more magic. She went through the worksheet with the class.

    Now, any teacher can walk through problems, but nobody in Ms. Webbbs class got bored. She pulled names from a cup of popsicle sticks (what teachers called brandom samplingb in those days) and asked students for their responses.

    Ms. Webb: Ysela, number 5.
    Ysela: Ummb& I didnbt get it.
    Ms. Webb: Okay, what do you think we should do first?
    Ysela: Ummb&. Take away seven?
    Ms. Webb: (grimaces) Ooh! Is there a mathematical way to say that?
    Ysela: Ummb&Subtract seven from both sides of the equation.
    Ms Webb: Oh, much better. I like that. Damon, take over number 5.

    It was magical. She coaxed answers from students who hate math (or so they tell their friends). These students have made a career out of coasting and doing nothing, but they have nowhere to hide from the watchful eye of Ms. Webb.

    And risk.

    No… not that one.

    Non-teachers may not realize this, but Ysela was hoping to be ignored, skipped, and left at peace. Getting students like Ysela to take a stab at a foreign problem is hard work. By eighth grade, she’s learned that the three magic words “I don’t know” will get her skipped in most other classes, and enough skips will get her ignored entirely.

    In Ms. Webbbs class, there was no ignored seat, no back of the class, no hats pulled down, and no students get to pass on a problem. If you donbt know, take a guess.

    Itbs one of several things that Ibve stolen for my own class.

  • CMC 2012

    CMC Attenders: For Attachments, click the link next to “HOME”

    Hello, fellow teachers, administrators, and people on a Google Image search for “Barbie” (who account for about 400 hits per day).

    My colleague–Gabrielle Mejia–and I are presenting at the California Mathematics Council on Student Motivation. The Mullet Ratio lesson, which feels like it happened years ago, would have been a good session as well. But since all the materials are already posted for free online, it felt like milking a gimmick.
    And frankly, I hope that my class has more than one good thing happening in it.

    Mullets and Apple TV and Snowboards, oh my!

    I have attended CMC faithfully during my teacher career and, in addition to several pocketfuls of free pens, there are a lot of good things happening in Palm Springs.

    We present on Saturday in Smoke Tree C at 3:15.B Regrettably,B this is the same time slot as Dan Meyer; a digital colleague of mine who puts on a great presentation every time.

    UPDATE 3 November 2012:

    That was easier than I thought it would be. I had presented before as part of a panel, and I was worried that I’d put my foot in my mouth in front of peers.

    At some point during CMC every year, I feel like the freshman that got invited to the varsity party. Everybody is older and more established than me, and yet my session was attended by teachers many years my senior that appeared to value my input. Cool.

    I would definitely do that again, though I’ll be sure to wear a mic next time.

    ~Mr. V

  • Birthday b $ Thursday

    When I was six, I had a birthday party at Lincoln Heights Pizza Parlor. Four friends and I spent the afternoon whacking moles, earning tickets, spending tokens, eating pizza, and finding diapers in the ball pit.

    Documenting the day are several grainy, indoor photos characteristic of the late 80s. My friends and I are smiling and happy in every shot in our striped shirts and shaggy haircuts.

    “Michael’s cheating! Daaaaaad!”

    A few years later, I had a surprise 16th birthday, put on by my girlfriend in conjunction with my sisters and youth pastor. Every photo is happy (that is, nobody is crying), but some photos are without smiles as people chat or eat cake.

    Yesterday, we celebrated my birthday by carving pumpkins with a few friends. My wife and baby and I hung out with our guests on the couch and we spent a long time discussing the Pacific Northwest. We printed out stencils for our pumpkins and put on some relaxing autumn music and had a great afternoon.

    Yes, that is Boba Fett and a high-speed drill.

    This leads me to my thesis, ready?

    If you’re reading this, your best birthdays are behind you.

    As you can see, the fun increases as a child, then is inconsistent during teenage years (as is everything) before a brief spike at 21 and a rapid decline until death. Some people get a small jump in fun at 50, unless you have heart problems, in which case it’s about the same.

    My birthday was yesterday, and today I had to leave work early because I had a back spasm.

    I got a back spasm for my birthday.

    Mother Nature gave me the gift of awareness; my vitality is weakening every year, and I’m one year closer to the grave.

    Dear Matt, you become a worse athlete every year. Love, Gaia

    Without revealing too much, my birthday ranked less than 30 on the scale above, which is a great score for my age bracket. I had a great day with friends, carved pumpkins, spent time outside, had great food, and then went on a date with my wife. Despite all that, a birthday (for people my age) is just another Sunday between Labor Day and Thanksgiving.

    Here’s the difference, though. As an adult, every other day is way more fun.

    Students in middle school absolutely hate Mondays. But Saturdays? Oh, man! Saturdays are like a mini-Christmas 36 times a school year.

    As an adult, I’m not a huge fan of Mondays, but they’re qualitatively no worse than Thursdays; I still have to go to work. Friday is marginally better, and the weekend is great.

    Note that the beginning and end of the weekends are common for both data sets.

    So, kids: you can have your birthdays. We adults quite enjoy our lives for the other 364 days of the year quite a bit as well.

    Even though child birthdays clearly are way more fun than adult ones, but adult Mondays are much more fun than child ones.

    … actually … hearing it like that …

    It’s probably better to be a kid.

    ~Mr. V

  • Another Day In Paradise

    I pause the Glue Song and ring the tiny bell on the cart.

    “People, look over here. This pink paper is LAMIAH, that was yesterday’s homework that I forgot to pass out. Please raise your hand if you need it and Frank will pass it out. This white paper is MARSHALL. Glue MARSHALL and the Warm-up into your Math notebook, please.”


    (This is the Glue Song. It’s a sound cue, telling the students that the directions on the board involve glue.)

    I hand a pink stack to Frank and put the Glue Song back on. As soon as the music hits their pubescent ears, I am beset by questions.

    “Mr. Vaudrey, you forgot to stamp my planner.”
    “Mr. Vaudrey, do I glue them on the same page?”
    “Mr. Vaudrey, can I get a drink of water? But I’m thirsty!”
    “Mr. Vaudrey, can I do number one?”
    “Mr. Vaudrey, my dog attacked a rabbit this morning.”
    “Mr. Vaudrey, I didn’t get LAMIAH.”
    “Mr. Vaudrey, did you hear that? James said he’s gonna hurt me!”

    “You need Mark in the office? Thank God.”

    I only have 21 students in this class, but each one has specific needs on my time, and any one of them ignored will cause a cavalcade that will corrode the rest of the period.

    “Then take your planner out right away so I can see it. I don’t care how you glue them, it’s up to you. You just had lunch. Talk to Maria and Desmond to see which ones they are doing. That’s great; do the warm-up. Frank is passing it out, he’ll be here in a sec. You did the right thing by not responding to him. James, let me speak to you outside.”

    It’s possible that the homeless guy in Glendora who talks to himself–seemingly sporadically–is just replaying conversations from when he used to teach middle school.

    Typically, when non-teachers actually see my classroom, they exclaim, “Wow. I could never do that.” It makes me feel good; knowing that my six years of skills are beginning to take shape into a career.

    But my students are just a different bunch. At least nobody masturbated at their desk today. (Some students have done that in last year’s classes).

    The first part of the period is the hopeful part; the class can go either way. Either they will be motivated and hard-working…

    … or he will give up, seek distractions, lament “I don’t get it!” with her head on the desk, tuck his head in his shirt and rock back and forth, tell the new girl she’s fat, tell him he can go to hell, tell her to go eat a cheeseburger, he’ll chew gum, claim it isn’t gum, and ask to go to the nurse.

    All of which happened in the first 15 minutes of our lesson on Slope.

    I have to remind myself (in the moment, especially) that they weren’t born this way. These students are the product of low skills, bad teachers, lazy parents, low-income community, a disinterested school culture, and Hot Cheetos con Limon. Any one of those by itself would be a challenge, and in 4th period, I have a huge cocktail.

    Which, coincidentally, is what I’m craving after they leave.

    Celebrate the successes and push through the challenges.

    Come on, Vaudrey. These kids need learnin’ and you’re just the guy to do it.

  • Not One Of Those Days

    There are days when I love my job. Days when I know that some students combated their ignorance with their effort and triumphed. Days when I lay my head on my pillow at night knowing that I did my very best and I changed lives.

    Today was not one of those days.

    Today was a “Put on Rage Against the Machine and scream at the steering wheel on the way to a church board meeting” days.

    [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tfhJV9FZGAk]

    (NOTE: That video probably has some swearing in it. So does this post.)

    I mean, most of my classes were fine. Kids worked hard, performed well in groups, and built on basic skills AND graphingba quite successful day.

    Except 4th period.

    Like a swarm of locusts, they descended on my ramp. Already pushing, yelling, and making inappropriate jokes. I held out my hand for them to shake (as I do every day) and one student flat out refused.

    I knew a storm was brewing.

    I battened down the hatches and piloted a new game for them, but it was no use. I sent two students to the office before we even finished the warm-up. They made it clear they had no intention of contributing to the class, yet I felt a twinge of regret as I called for their escortbsurely I could have done something differently.

    The day progressed and three students earned detentions (gum, gum, and continued disruption) before we did our 6 times tables and left.

    Then the real show began.

    Figure 2: An orderly and respectful classroom

    Ryan stayed after school to grudgingly serve his gum detention. I instructed him to move the desks into the configuration I projected on the wall.

    bIbm hungry! I donbt wanna do anything!b

    Deep breath. bRyan, you have two options: You can do 15 minutes with me without complaining or you can do two lunch detenbb

    bBut Ibm hungry! I donbt wanna do this!b

    bIs that your choice then? The two lunch detentions? I can have Ms. Holwood call you out tomorrow to talk about it.b

    bb&no.b Ryan stuck up his lip in a perfect teenage sneer. This could have been the cover of Teenage Sneer Monthly.

    Figure 3: The “Hiding Gin In A Water Bottle” Issue

    bOkay, then. Your two options are 15 minutes with me without complaining or interrupting, or two lunch detentions with Ms. Holwood. Whatbs it gonna be?b

    bHere!b

    For the next two minutes, Ryan held a desk and wiggled it when I looked his way. Then he acted surprised when I sent him out.

    He paused at the door and screamed, bI hate you!b before pounding a chair and my door with his fists and storming down my ramp.

    Figure 4: How he felt vs. How he sounded

    Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. My students mostly like mebeven the ones that dislike me donbt hate me.

    I felt like absolute shit for a couple hours, even though experts in teenage defiance (the RSP teacher, my youth pastor wife) assured me that it was just bwhat they dob.

    Doesn’t matter. I felt (and still feel) that I could have done something different to avoid this situation without compromising the order of my classroom.

    Oh, well. I have two days without Ryan in my classroom to think about it. Hebs on class suspension pending a parent conference. I guess that means I win.

    Sure donbt feel like a winner.

    Concerned Parents Against Funfetti

    UPDATE 10 October 2012

    After a phone conference with dad and a day of class suspension, Ryan and I agreed on a hand signal for him to indicate to me when he is getting angry.

    Today’s art project and lesson went swimmingly for all classes (including 4th period sans Ryan). Today I feel like a winner.

  • Not-So-Hot Stuff

    I hate talking about myself, which is why I’m writing a post about it.

    On Friday, I had 6 adults in my classroom during one period. The Math Coach from another school came over with one of her teachers and the Director of IT from the district office. The RSP teacher and my math coach joined them and my principal happened to drop by for a visit that day.

    “Guys, it’s a little tight in here.”

    Later, I got two more emails from people asking to come (with guests) and watch the iPad class. I’m not doing anything spectacular with the iPads, but it’s the big thing right now and apparently that makes me a hot ticket.

    My principal did little to dispel my discomfort.

    “In your class, you’ve made the iPad a part of the regular day. That’s what they want to see.”

    There’s a circus in town, and the tent is in room P-08.

    “Come one, come all! Watch me use an Apple TV!”

    Recently, a new teacher posted on his/her blog “I want to skip to when I’m established in my craft, after all this hard work of becoming a good teacher.”

    I thought that was interesting; because the established teachers that I know rarely feel that they have “arrived”.

    Established teachers are the ones who improve daily.
    Teachers who don’t improve haven’t “arrived”, they’ve stagnated.

    ;

    I don’t feel like I deserve all the focus–the attention the iPad circus is getting.

    That’s okay that I don’t deserve it. I haven’t arrived yet.

    ~Mr. V

  • New Baby!

    If you’re wondering where I’ve been recently, this should give you some idea.

    Big Yawn

     

  • Why Give Homework?

    We all have done it. We all have complained about homework.

    Too much, too hard, too often, too confusing, too boring, too dry, too unrelated, too specific, too stinky: take your pick.

    For teachers, this presents an interesting predicament; as students, we complained, now we have the chance to do something about it.

    My first year teaching, I took over for another teacher after two weeks. I continued what she did. Would any of us do different?

    Itbs like parenting. We pass on what we received because we knowB it. Not because it worked well, not because itbs easy, but because itbs familiar.

    Over the last 6 years, I have struggled to find a fair way to do homework. (Feel free to skip reading this portion unless youbre a teacher.)

    • Year 1: Assigned 20-30 problems every day from the book. It was too much, students hated it.
      • Completion: about 15% of students on a given day.
    • Year 2: Assigned less than 10 problems per day, and I started naming each book assignment (alphabetically) to keep them straight. Students were more likely to complete them AND they didnbt pile up. Itbs much easier to say bTake out HENRYb than it is to say bTake out page 137, numbers 6-16 even and 23-37 oddb.
      • Completion: 35% per day
    • Year 3: Began adding projects, worksheets, and other less conventional homeworks to mix it up.
      • Completion: 40-50%
    • Year 4: Drowning under the weight of 8 preps (12 different grading rosters) I revert back to whatbs easy: problems from the book.
      • Completion: 30-60% depending on the class.
    • Year 5: New School! A combination of named assignments from the book, worksheets, workbooks, and projects.
      • Completion: 70-80%

    All of that was missing the point, the driving force, the reason:

    Why do we give homework?

    All of the bflipped classesb and bmastery learningb B and “common assessments” and bindependent practiceb all center around one thing: Learning stuff.

    The whole point of sending students home with bulging backpacks is that the material that we discussed in class will stick to their Teflon brains.

    (Get it? Teflon. Nothing sticks to…. never mind. It was a stretch.)

    Also, click here to see the teacherly emails between me and Fawn Nguyen regarding the best way to make Homework (and Teaching) effective.

    So, non-teachers, now you know why [good] teachers spend so much time thinking about this stuff. If you were a teacher, how would you do homework?