Mrvaudrey

Author: mrvaudrey

  • Dear President Obama

    Dear President Obama,

    I gave you my vote in 2008 and I am still 100% glad that I did. Ibve never doubted you in your 14 months so far and I think youbre fabulous. This is a letter commending your triumphs because you are an easy man to criticize; people love to throw stones at the TV screen knowing the President wonbt yell back.

    As an American, Ibm fan of Healthcare reform. So committed, in fact, that I find myself in the minority for the first time in my life. Ibm a White, Protestant, Middle-class male with a Masterbs degree. Ibm from an upper-middle class family and so is my wife.

    Ibm in the minority for this reason: Ibm prepared to pay more taxes for the same health coverage so that medical coverage could be provided to those less fortunate than I am. Ibm sure if everybody thought this way, webd have a bill already, but Ibm prepared to wait until we find a bill that people quit complaining about.

    (And Ibll tell any Republicans I know to put some of their energy into building bills instead of tearing them down.)

    Unrelated to health care, I support several unpopular ideas and I figured that youbd like a voice in the trenches. So here it is from an educator:

    Merit Pay is a great idea if properly and concretely implemented. I wonbt suggest what that system will be, but I can say from my own experience that teachers who stink are kept in the payroll way too long. Exciting and motivated teachers have little incentive to do a good job when tenured teachers get paid more to sit behind their desk and hand out worksheets. Itbs depressing.

    NCLB is hated universally among teachers that I know. We all agree that the students in our classes need better skills and that a great way to measure that is test scores, but to claim that all schools reach an API score of 800 by the year 2014 is ridiculous. If you donbt know much about API, then you can trust me on this; itbs ridiculous.

    We understand that the White House has bigger fish to fry than No Child Left Behind reform. For now, we teachers are fine to just b& not talk about it.

    Itbs also pretty apparent that youbre not a big fan of people applauding you; I respect that and empathize. I giggled when Michelle motioned for the house to bsit downb during the standing ovation for her obesity plan.

    All that to say that I think youbre great and I will support you until you do something crazy, like invade Canada

    b& and probably even after that. They’ve been asking for it, eh.

    ~V

  • I thought I’d heard it all

    I thought Ibd heard it all.

    At first, Jane was just another bproblem studentb who had trouble focusing. She claimed that she was just hyper, or just had a bunch of candy; the usual excuses. I thought that I had made a breakthrough when she told me she was dyslexic. My eyes lit up as I moved her to the front of the class and provided the notes in advance with blanks for her to fill in. I was excited to be able to meet her needs as a teacher.

    Then she started missing school. Shebd come in late with a limp and ask to be left alone for the day.B bWhatbs the matter? Hungover again?bB Ibd smirk.

    bSomething like that,b she said with a weak smile. Later that day, shebd murmur something about a spinal tap.

    bOh, man!bB I said,B bmy sister had one of those and she got awful headaches.b

    bYeah,b she said. bI have headaches; I couldnbt do the homework last night.b A pretty weak excuse as excuses go. Ibve heard a lot of them. Ibve heard a lot of excuses.

    Then shebd miss a whole day. She came back to class with no energy and didnbt have the pluck to talk to her classmates during the lesson or distract her neighbor. bI was with family. Therebs drama at my house. I couldnbt finish the project.b Ibve heard that one a lot, but I give grace for unstable home lives. I thought Ibd heard it all.

    Soon she was out a whole week at a time. The office would call and say that Jane was in the hospital and her mom was coming to pick up her assignments. Hospital is a good excuse. One of the best Ibve heard. I thought Ibd heard it all.

    When she got back, Ibd be patient and show her what she missed. Jane was pretty bright and could have gotten an A if she were in class more often. I would tell her that when filling her in on the Perimeter and Area of Trapezoids.

    Eventually, she leveled with me.

    bMr. V, I have cancer.b

    I thought Ibd heard it all.

    bLike bad cancer?bB I asked.

    bWell, itbs a b& osteoblastomab& I think.b

    I know enough to know that having bblastb in the name isnbt a good sign, but I keep a straight face.B So whatbs the plan?

    bNothing,b she shrugged.

    bWhat do you mean, nothing? I mean whatbs the plan for treatment? Chemo? Radiation?b

    bNope. I donbt want none of that. My auntie had cancer in her face, and even after they took it out, she still has it, like under her eye. The radiation just made her hair fall out. Ibm already losing my hair and I ainbt gonna be one of them bald girls.b

    I tilted my head sideways. bSob& thatbs it? Just giving up? How long do you have?b

    bWell, the doctor says if I eat right and take the pills then I could have years left, but I donbt even eat at all now and those pills make me tired. So maybeb&six months?b

    I thought Ibd heard it all.

    bWhy not fight it?b

    bOh, uh-uh. I saw what it did to my auntie. Three weeks in a hospital and it didnbt even cure nothing. I hate hospitals to begin with. I ainbt doin that. My momma wants me to do the treatment, but she knows itbs my life. Itbs my decision.b

    bHmmb&Ibm curious why not; it seems like you haveB yearsB to gain by risking weeks.b

    bMr. V, it sounds like you trying to convince me.b She grins a winning smile, white teeth against her dark skin.

    bNo; youbre going to do what you want to do. I just want to understand you and make sure you know what youbre doing. Do you journal?b

    bNo.b

    bYou should start.b

    bWhy?b

    bBecause,bB I say, touching my head. bThe right side of your brain is where emotions lie and the left side is where speech, writing, and logic lie. By writing or talking about your feelings, you move the ideas to the logic side and can see things more clearly. Think about it.b

    bOkay, Mr. V.b She grins and goes to lunch.

    I thought Ibd heard it all.

    Turns out, she was full of shit. She knew all along it was a cyst.

    ~V

  • I didn’t WANT to see Blind Side, but I’m glad I did

    UPDATE: 4 JUNE 2021 Yeesh. This post is full of some oblivious white-savior-complex garbage, but I’m leaving it live on my page. It’s important that I don’t erase my ignorance just because I’m now more aware of the intersection between race, power, and education. Hopefully, all of my posts age poorly as I keep improving and doing a better job.

    The Blind Side, in case you’re overseas, don’t own a TV, or are my grandparents, is the latest heartstring-pulling blockbuster starring Sandra Bullock and Tim McGraw as the two wealthy white parents who take in a black kid from the projects and help him turn his life around. My initial thought was similar to yours: I’d much rather see James Cameron blow stuff up and cool blue CG aliens than Sandra Bullock teach a poor kid to keep his elbows off the table and open his heart again. No, thanks.

    Luckily for Sandra, me, and this blog entry, I was already in line to buy popcorn before I realized that my family had decided to see Blind Side instead of Avatar. Disappointing, but hey, I still get popcorn. (I could live on just movie popcorn for the rest of my days, which, as my sister pointed out, would likely be less than a month.)

    After a few mouthfuls of fluffy cancer, I was satisfied, and I decided to put aside my previous views of the film, resolved to watch it unbiased-ly…. unbi…. in an unbiased manner. My previous opinions of the film were rooted in an article in, among others, Time magazine (which I get on my Blackberry, score one for trees). An article said something to effect of “Blind Side is a heart-wrenching tale for aging Southern Belles about how a white family can save a black boy, if only given the chance.” After seeing the movie, I disagree,and here’s why:

    Blind Side was about a wealthy family lifting a poor boy out of his surroundings, and race had very little to do with it. The kids in the family all were accepting and even encouraging. In my favorite scene, the football coach is trying to get the admissions team to bring Michael into the private Christian school. His empassioned diatribe sounds something like this (in a Southern accent):

    “Are we a Christian school or not? Cuz if we are, then we need to admit this boy, because Christians are about second chances and extending grace.”

    I hooted in the middle of the theatre after that one.

              And the TRUUUUUTH shall setcha free!          Glory hallelujah!

    Truthfully, the “Michael is a misfit” jokes came more at the expense of his 250-lb 6’5″ frame than of his race, although in one scene, the family gets a phone call from a relative asking “did you know that there’s a colored boy in your Christmas photo?”

    The writers and Sandra do an excellent job of confronting common misconceptions about both the low-income demographic and the black demographic. Leigh Anne (Sandra Bullock) has a lunch bunch with a few other trophy wives, one of which asks “don’t you worry, leaving your daughter alone in the house with him?” To which, Leigh Anne replies simply, “Shame on you.”

    I was on the edge of my seat as Michael wandered back into his old apartment complex and into the den of a drug dealer, dealing out swift justice as he defends his new family. I cheered as the mouthy cornerback from the rival team gets blocked over a fence. I laughed as the 9-year-old son barked out Michael’s workout schedule.

    “Five 100-yard sprints… MOVE!”

    Further, I resonate as a teacher seeing that one of my students has special needs and I want to give… something. Like Michael’s Biology teacher, I’ve also given verbal tests to students who can’t write well. I’ve also bumped up the grades of students who are trying hard and improving. I’ve also made sure that students have clothes and food.

    I want to “save” students in my class that are family-less, and until now, those desires have been postponed. Blind Side poked that part of me with a stick and I heard Leigh Anne bark at me “He is part of my family”. Not only did I resonate with the sentiment of the movie, but I felt it encourage me to become a better Christian, and there aren’t many films that do that.

    I love movies with personal growth and justice, and Blind Side has both. See it.

    ~V

  • Why work hard if you can’t keep your job?

    It is not a good time to be a beginning teacher.

    Historically, the first people to get laid off are the part-time, substitute, and intern teachers. The term “intern” essentially means “contracted while we feel like it”. At any point the intern teacher can be served with a March 15 letter with the phrase “services no longer needed” buried into a lot of legal fluff.

    The term “March 15 letter” refers to the deadline given by California Education Code; it’s the last possible date to let a teacher now that they must begin looking for a job. Every year, around April, dozens of recently polished resumes and recommendations flood recruiting websites like edjoin.org in an effort for new teachers to find the next “intern” position. Eventually, the intern earns enough clout to earn “tenure” which guarantees them a spot for the next year.

    At least… that’s how it usually is.

    A school that doesn’t have a union is a rarity in Southern California. Here, the powerhouse Union negotiators have lawyers and press agents on speed dial, ready to pounce on administrators the moment they start to show shady behavior.

    Many charter schools are union-free, largely because of the odd curriculum and regular teacher turnover. It is not uncommon for some charter schools to see 30% turnover every year. The teachers at one such union-free school, unfortunately, have no advocate.

    So when several teachers are laid off in late July, they are, as the French say, le screwed.

    The reason the March 15 deadline exists is to allow veteran teachers a fighting chance to get the most desirable positions. Several veteran teachers (in a school without tenure) were recently canned largely, it is believed, due to the high cost of their salary.

    Why keep a $70,000 English teacher when you can get a fresh one for $45,000?

    With a never-ending supply of fresh, inexperienced teachers, this pattern can be continued indefinitely, constantly removing teachers from the posts when they begin to be excellent and raise student test scores.

    The school is saved from the budget crunch.

    Hurrah.

  • On-the-Clock-Amusement

    I find that I need to entertain myself (and occasionally others) while at work, and the most appropriate avenue for said distractions is email. These are some of the emails that I’ve sent to my coworkers.

    From: Mxxxxx Vxxxxxx
    Sent: Wednesday, May 27, 2009 1:17 PM
    To: Grade Level Team
    Subject: Daniel

    Team,

    Poor little Daniel was busy this entire weekend moving houses. Somewhere in the process, his madre emptied his backpack into a box and filled it with bmakeup and shitb. B He is still looking for the missing box that holds the key to his futureb& but his mom sorted different subjects into different boxes, so his academic life is in shambles. He has asked for grace in this trying time of need, and in return he has committed to coming in early and giving up lunch where needed to make up the assignments that are lost.

    CLICK HERE to send Daniel $5. You will also receive a picture of Daniel and letters from him describing his progress. Let God use you to make a difference in the life of a child.

    ~Matt Vaudrey


    (more…)

  • Best Job Ever: My Star Trek experience

    The wife and I were all set to go on a pre-screening movie date and see the new chick flick with Jennifer Garner today. We made it to the theatre, got parked and in line with about 7 minutes to spare. We signed the non-disclosure deal stating that I will not camera-phone the entire thing and put it on YouTube, when I realized that … uh oh. I quickly flagged down a Communications major in a suit jacket and jeans with a name tag. “Excuse me, Damien; can I bring my phone into the movie? Really?”

    Piss. So I jog back to the car and… sabes que? Let’s cut this short. Despite rushing to the car to displace the contraband, our spots in line are lost and the movie is full when we get back. So we get free tickets to the movie of our choice; great, huh?

    We were between Angels & Demons and Star Trek. The wife unwittingly made my subterfuge easier by saying, “Are we really in the mood to see priests get cut up and burned?”

    The answer is no.

    So, for the next two hours and 27 minutes, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I explained my limited Star Trek knowledge to Andrea before the movie began. Despite being an enormous Star Wars fan, most of the knowledge is non-transferrable. To aid in the differential, here’s a Venn Diagram:

    GeekChart

    Got it?

    Now you have a snapshot of me and wifey in the theatre. I’m trying frantically to explain to her the workings of a B Black Hole while she asks where Chewbacca is.

    So the film ends and I, the selfish movie-goer, and waiting to see if there’s some cool cameo of William Shatner at the end or something. To keep my self amused, I read the credits, which brings me to this post.

    I have found the best job ever.

    About 2/3 of the way down the list, I see in the credits the listing for Science Consultant.

    There is no greater pinnacle of Nerd-dom than to explain to Gene Roddenberry’s son why a black-hole-causing goop must be dropped into the planet’s core to create an anomaly sufficient to destroy the planet itself. I’m sweating a bit just writing about it. Can you imagine? Picture for a second jumping up and down, whispering over the director’s chair, “Oo! Oo! If they fired photon torpedoes behind the ship and detonated them, the resulting sonic boom could be sufficient to break the Enterprise from the gravitational pull of the spatial anomaly, even though they are already in warp speed. Did you know that not even light can escape from a black hole? I’ve got the full specs here on my flash drive keychain.”

    Cue the inhaler.

    Granted, the Science Consultant couldn’t be an actual Trekkie, or he’d be spotting all sorts of possible plot holes and asking weird questions.

    “Excuse me, but why do Spock and Uhura get together when we know she ends up with Kirk? Spock and Uhura can’t procreate… can they? What kind of procreative organs do Vulcans have? Does Spock’s penis come to a point like his ears do?”

    “Shh… don’t speak. This is what shipmates do on my planet.”

    ~V

  • My Breakup with Staples

    What proceeds is the email that I sent to Staples customer service after 5 or 6 computer-generated responses regarding my “Staples Rewards”.

    Dear Staples,

    I’m extremely disappointed and frustrated at our recent interactions. I understand that the person reading this email didn’t start the company and probably wasn’t the one who wrote the fine print on your bullshit Rewards program, so I’m writing as if the big red building herself can hear me.

    Staples, our relationship started off great. I got a job as a teacher and started coming to see you once or twice a week to make teacher-ly purchases for my classroom or my Master’s classes. You have a great selection with a variety of items going on sale, plus a modestly decent-quality selection of Staples-brand generic materials.

    You were great; always friendly and helpful with a great return policy. I’m on my 5th laser pointer from you! Try calling up Nintendo and asking for a new Gamecube after you drop it; you will be disappointed.

    Staples, we had a great relationship for a little over a year until things started to get rocky. I mean, when we first met, you told me about the Staples Rewards program where I would get 10% back on my qualifying purchases and I was stoked. I made more purchases, thinking that I’d be getting 10% back on them.

    After about 18 months. I was beginning to feel our relationship a bit one-sided. I hadn’t seen any rewards, and they were supposed to come every 3 months. Don’t get me wrong; I stillB like you and everything, but I’m starting to think that I’m giving more to this than you are.

    Finally, I couldn’t live in denial anymore, so I contacted Customer Service and asked for you to reciprocate. I was shocked and betrayed when you said that I didn’t qualify for Rewards! And even more surprised when I heard about how only my paper and ink purchases count towards money back! You harlot! You lied to me! You never said anything about “qualifying purchases” or “minimum monthly quota”!

    We’re through. I’m taking this wallet and getting involved with your hot cousin, Officemax. At least she’s up front with me about the Rewards program and I don’t have to go through weeks of computer-generated emails to get a straight answer.

    Go to hell.

    Saucy in San Gabriel,

    xxxxx Vxxxxxx
    Staples Reward #5947960141

  • Halloween comes a little earlier every year

    Creed Bratton once said, “I’m a pretty normal guy, I do one weird thing.”

    My birthday is the same as Carrie Fisher‘s, sometime in mid-October. Growing up, I never got to do the fun, aquatic-themed birthdays like my friends who had Raging Waters parties in June, because it was always too damn cold in Eastern Washington in autumn, during my birthday.

    You may get to drive before me, but you dont have inner tubes
    You may get to drive before me, but you don’t have inner tubes, so who has the better birth month?

    Naturally, when I went to college in L.A., we went to the beach at San Diego for my birthday and got lip rings. In order to be a California college student, you must have a lip ring, long hair, a longboard, and a popped collar, and in the autumn of 2005, I was at the apex of my douchebaggery.

    As I turned 21, then 22, then left college, then had less and less friends nearby to celebrate the day when I burst forth from the womb, I found that birthdays are not quite the party that they were in college. Instead, my wife gives me a poster reading “Everything I learned in life I learned from Star Wars” to accompany my Obi-Wan bobble head. While these gifts would have been appropriate in college, they feel more substantial now. In college, everything feels temperate; like I don’t expect the gifts to last past graduation. I can’t recall a single birthday gift that I received in college, save for the electric razor that my parents gave to me in 2003.

    With each passing year, I feel that my birthday becomes less and less a big deal. As my age increases, my birthday becomes less and less important, as you can see here in Figure A:

    Figure A

    By the time I’m 3, birthdays are rapidly beginning to lose their appeal. By 50, it’s just another Tuesday between Labor Day and Thanksgiving.

    Naturally, I have to find ways to make my birthdays more exciting. In the latter half of college, I began to use October 21st as the marker to begin the most sacred of seasons: Christmas music.

    Whoa! Don’t be so harsh now, dear reader! Baby Jesus can never have enough lauding, so what’s the harm in starting the season off with a few old school renditions of “Here We Go A-wassailing” before mid-terms come out?

    This year, my plan to welcome a high [Yule]tide was kicked up a notch with the onset of a record player birthday gift from my parents. You better believe I hooked that baby up and the first wax I spun was this guy:

    Whatever cares I had before the delightful crackling of LP reached my ears melted away with the first lines of “Slumber Song of the Infant Jesus”. Look at him; how can you not be put into a better mood? Aside from the obvious satisfaction I get from a guy who sings bass who can make it in the music biz, he was also signed to Capitol Records! The folks at Capitol got something right, before they went downhill in the next 30 years and started to give record deals to guys like Varsity Fanclub and Dem Franchize Boyz.

    If I’m to be honest for a moment, Christmas music for takes me back to home. It makes me think of our house in Valleyford with vaulted ceilings and huge windows, of a wood-burning fireplace and a 20-foot Douglas Fir making the whole top floor smell like the forest. Whenever I hear the voice of Karen Carpenter, I can close my eyes and see myself, 11 years old and laying on the thick carpet at dusk, reading Calvin and Hobbes and somehow knowing that I have nothing — absolutely nothing — to worry me. When I think of peace, I think of Christmas.

    Sing out, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Sing We Now of Christmas.

    ~V

  • “I just gotta be real”

    I teach math at a charter school. This school is certainly different; there is an arts emphasis as well as business and college prep emphasis. I teach Geometry, Algebra I and a CaHSEE prep class so students can practice the math that appears on the California High School Exit Exam (CaHSEE). I want to share something that happened today.

    I met my CaHSEE class for the first time and there were only 5 of them. Given that these students are giving up an elective to take math, I figured that their attitudes would be less than stoked to meet me. After blowing through the syllabus, I decided that getting to know these students would be more beneficial than having them build a tower using a pencil, two pieces of paper and a piece of tape, like the other periods did. This is how the conversation went around the circle:

    Mr. V: Okay, I’d like to go around and say your name, the best part of your summer, and your favorite thing to do when you’re not studying for the CaHSEE.

    Triscia: I’m Triscia, the best part of my summer was going to Disneyland, and when I’m not studying for the CaHSEE, I like to…. I donno, go to the mall or watch TV.

    Chuck: I’m Chuck, the best part of my summer was… I donno, kicking it with friends, and when I’m not studying for the CaHSEE, I like to listen to music.

    Seth: I’m Seth and… my summer wasn’t really that good; I just got out of the juvenile detention center and… um… I met a girl, I proposed to her last night and she said yes. When I’m not studying for the CaHSEE, I love to play Basketball, it’s my favorite sport.

    Mr. V: Congratulations on your engagement!

    I managed to catch Seth after class. “Hey, Seth. That took a lot of guts, man; revealing to a group of people you don’t know that you just got out of jail. I’m impressed; that took a lot of balls.” His response gave me hope for teenagers across America.

    “Well, you know, I don’t wanna lie to everybody, I just… I just gotta be real, you know?”

    Great, Seth. Keep being real.

  • Grow up

    Why do we push maturity on kids so much?

    Jesus himself said that we should have the faith of a child, so why do we use these phrases?

    “Act your age!”
    “Grow up!”
    “Quit acting like a child!”
    “How old are you?”

    I speak mostly from my own experience; 12-year-olds are at the pivotal point between childhood and adulthood where they know words like “fuckface”, but they also will clean every piece of trash off the classroom floor to earn a piece of chocolate. The middle-school mind is capable of much, and I have seen a fair amount of it.

    A student, after constant chatter and no productivity, was sent to the office, as per the agreement he has with the principal. Upon receipt of the hall pass and realization of what is happening, he sputters to me, “you’re expelling me right now, do you know that?”

    This particular student is on a very thin thread; the principal has told him that if he continues to get sent out of class, then there is no reason for him to be at this school. This lecture had the desired effect… for about a week. Now this student is back to his old ways and, true to the mind of a mid-adolescent, is unable to put together the actions and the consequence.

    If I refuse to spit out my gum, distract other students during the test, write nothing on my own test, and don’t follow directions right away, then there’s a good chance I will not be wanted in class.

    Another student:

    bMr. V, are we playing a game today?b

    [Looking toward the Agenda section of the whiteboard] bIf only there were a place in the room where I could write down what we are doing today, that would be great.bStudent: [pause] bTherebs room on the whiteboard right there.b

    Mr. V:bAnd look next to it, where it says AGENDA, it says exactly what we are doing today! Hot Dog!b

    Student: [longer pause] bWebre playing Hot Dog today?b

    I am currently interviewing for a job teaching Geometry to high school students. Geometry is my favorite subject and I love students, plus, this job feels like a youth group in that it monitors the holistic growth of the student, not just academic.

    Confident as I may be that this new job will require less time with my wearing my “Hard-Ass” hat and requiring an orderly classroom, I am unsure how to start this job. I have never had a “first day of school” where I am captain of a greasy-faced and baggily-dressed ship. I can only hope that I will handle my classroom with the dignity and grace that the post requires,

    and not punch the mouthy kid in the nose.