Mrvaudrey

Category: Hope

  • Promotion and Depression

    Have we met in real life?

    Ibm usually pretty positive, and holding a positive attitude for a whole-day workshop is energizing for me, not draining. Nearly every day of my five years of meeting with teachers, someone would say, bWow, youbve got a lot of energy!b and it was almost always genuine and never exhausting.

    Ibm in a place now where I can describe how my recent job changes happened so quickly, and since this blog will stay up for a while, itbs important to me that I put the pen to paper.

    March 2020

    The school system imploded. The district opted for bpositive credit only,b so studentsb grades couldnbt drop between March and June. Many students realized this and did nothing. I was Dean of Students at a Middle School of about 1000 students, and my temporary contract was set to end in June. The principal was regularly absent for cancer treatment, and the other AP (with whom, Ibm still friends) was distancing herself so I could be seen doing the job.

    So, for better or worse, I was running the majority of operations for the school.

    I want to be clear; the principal was doing his best, but his illness was limiting his capacity, and I donbt harbor any resentment. Cancer sucks.

    Twice during that period, I sought AP jobs within the district, assured by the leadership that I was well-positioned for the AP slot at my current school. After being encouraged by HR that I bshouldnbt change a thing for the interview,b I was disappointed to be turned down. It felt like dating someone for a while, then getting dumped suddenly. It’s the second most painful thing to ever happen to me at work.

    Of course, nobody deserves a job; my experience was slim and the DO wanted to change over the school leadership, which is their prerogative. Some colleagues confirmed that yes, the leadership is unlikely to update my reputation as “gregarious and silly instructional coach,” and wouldn’t promote me to leadership. It was time to go, but I had no emotional energy left in my disappointment tank.

    August 2020

    With my temp contract ended, I returned to the classroom. As one of the Math Intervention teachers, I split my time across two schools, serving eight 30-minute bMath Clubsb a day. My background using technology tools to lighten the workload made the job less painful than it was for many teachers, and teaching Elementary school students for the first time put some joy back into my days.

    It was just what I needed to heal after suspending my search for Admin jobs. My spouse heard me whine often about how, bIbm a straight, white man, so Ibm unaccustomed to disappointment. Most of the time, job interviews and applications go well for me, and my getting-denied-muscle is very weak.b Conversations with trusted colleagues were encouraging, pointing out that everyone is ill-equipped for sad feelings right now and what Ibm feeling is valid.

    In November, I was browsing the job postings for Math Teachers. I needed a change, and was willing to take a lateral move. The district near my house flew a position for Math Coach, and I applied on a whim. For three months, I heard nothing, and I continued to do an above-average job teaching remotely.

    January 2021

    After an IEP one Friday afternoon, I got an email from Fontana Unified, apologizing for the long wait (they had to hire a Director, then shuffle other positions, and finally got around to Math Coach), and asking for an interview.

    A week later, I had an offer. Two weeks after that, I was the newest Secondary Math Teacher-on-Assignment, where I wrote pacing guides, built assessments, and attended teacher meetings to support staff. Medium-intellectual demand and low-emotional demand was exactly what I needed at the time, and my bossbs boss scheduled meetings with each TOA individually to ask about our long-term goals and how FUSD can support us to reach them.

    The clear intent to “promote from within” was publicly declared, and I nearly started crying at my desk. Itbs pretty much the opposite situation from eight months prior, being encouraged toward promotion and denied. Ibve already been placed as Administrative Designee* at school sites to get experience and build relationships.

    My spouse pointed out this week, bItbs good for you to have this job, because you need to get your confidence back. Ibm already seeing it, and going on those gigs as keynote speaker is helping.b

    Depression

    In the midst of all that, there was a global pandemic, poorly managed by a President who gave little attention to people below his perceived station, and children were adversely affected. In April 2020, the entire country was tweeting about how teachers should make a million dollars a year because the job is so hard. The support did not turn into policy change or an increase in funding for teachers and staff, decrease class sizes, and provide advance mental health support that these developing minds will need very soon.

    It hit me hard. As I mentioned at the opener, I default to smiling, and my well of positivity is deep.

    About September 2020, I realized the well ain’t bottomless.

    My district and healthcare provider both offered mental health supports, everything from self-care to meditation. Being acutely self-aware made it quick to isolate what could help me feel better.

    Me: So,I should work out once a week and not drink on weekdays and sleep an adequate amount, and that will improve my headspace.
    Therapist: Yeah, man. You already knew that, so do it.

    And now I’m back in-person, tackling school-based challenges with other people, around kids, and doing all the above things. My job is great, and my team is great, and things are looking up.

    ~Matt “It’s been a long 500 days” Vaudrey

    *Itbs basically a sub for the Principal, charged with keeping the ship sailing.

  • Bulwarks and Blessings

    Yesterday was Pickle’s last day of school as a kindergartener.

    The night before, I was folding laundry after the kids were asleep, and I heard her burst into tears. I found her sitting up in her big-kid bed weeping.

    Me: Pickle, whatbs wrong?
    Pickle: *sniff* I donbt want to leave my class! I love my teacher so much!

    I am nearly finished BrenC) Brownbs book on empathy, shame, leadership, and vulnerability, so I know the best move here is to just give Pickle a hug and sit with her in her sadness. She cried on my shoulder for 15 minutes, then I suggested, bDo you want to write your teacher a letter or draw her a picture?”

    She did, and it was adorable. Rainbows and holding hands and the words, bI love you soooooo much!!!” written in crayon.

    I really hope Pickle loves school this much for the rest of her career. Thatbs what I want for every child, for them to love school and be sad when itbs over.

    To that end, I gave every effort to end the school year sensitive, caring, and warm, since I know those feelings will be carried by my students the entire summer.

    There are two things I do at the end of every school year, both of which are easily replicated by you to finish strong this year.

    1. Teacher report card

    I blog about this quite a bit, so Ibll be brief: this is a great way to get honest feedback from your students about how your class feels to your students. You’ll likely get some feedback to make some tweaks as you dwell and dream during the student-free time.

    At the same time, you will get some warm fuzzies to carry you out the door and affirm that you did something right this year.

    If you’d like your own link, click here for teachers, click here for coaches, and click here for admin.

    2. End-of-the-year blessing

    I support the separation of church and state, and still I recognize the power of ceremony in public school.

    Graduation, promotion, signing day, and a field trip to the local theme park are all rights of passage to signal something important.

    In old-school Christianity, we called this a bulwark or a Ebenezer.

    In Education, we call this a benchmark.

    In either case, itbs important for students to feel a moment.

    To that end, I try and end the year with my own benchmark/Ebenezer, by giving my students a blessing on their way out the door.

    image: On The Line Ministries

    Note: This can be super creepy have done poorly. Proceed at your own risk.

    Herebs how I did it the last time I had a class:

    bIn some cultures, when people are leaving to do new things, they are given a blessing or a commission or some encouragement…

    Some cultures place hands on the shoulders of the person whobs leaving, but there are too many of you, so Ibll just do this…”

    I hold my hands out over them, palms down.

    bMay you be passionate problem-solvers and curious critics. May you be loyal to your friends, obedient to people in charge, friendly to strangers, and kind to those in need. May you be safe, healthy, loved, and happy, and may you become more of those things every day. May you every day become a better version of yourself.”

    Paraphrased from this blog post in 2014

    NOTE: I would definitely tweak the “obedient to people in charge” part, now that I’m more skeptical of the inequitable power systems inherent in the school system. Probably add something like, “May you be brave and confident when faced with powerful foes,” or something.

    I watched Patricia do a blessing with her class of seniors, and almost all of them bowed their head for some reason. Adolescents are often more clever than we give them credit for, and many can sense when something is important.

    Or they grew up in the church and can sense something sacred.

    However you end the year, keep in mind one thing:

    Our students will carry with themball summerbhow they feel about our classes, so make sure you suck it up and end with something positive.

    ~Matt Vaudrey

    P.S. I’ve been sitting-in full-time as the Assistant Principal at one of my middle schools. Ibve been lingering and shadowing and learning and supporting at the site for a while now, and now that Nadia had her baby, I’ll be taking over her desk until she returns.

    More to come.

  • It sure felt like getting fired

    I found this buried in my Google Drive this week. It’s a journal entry from 2008.

    Nowbeleven years laterbI love teaching and there are some teachers appreciate my commentary on stuff. As our teammates and friends are getting their March 15th letters, it may help to remember where we’ve come and how powerless it feels to be a bad teacher.

    It gets better, y’all.

    Okay, both my in-laws, my wife, and both parents said that I wasnbt technically bfiredb. I was told that my bprobationary contract wasnbt renewed for the following yearb.

    It sure felt a lot like getting fired.

    As you may have gathered from my references to my first year teaching, it was rough. On a good day, I had a little bit of control over the class, until a student wanted to do something out of the ordinary, like talk about anything unrelated to math. Then my lack of boundaries and authority skills made a 53-minute dog turd sandwich out of the class period. My class was out of control four and a half days a week and I was out of my element.

    So out of my element and out of control was I, that when called for a 7:45 meeting in February, I blissfully ignorant to its nature.

    Present with me at the meeting was Rich, the Assistant Principal and friend from church who got me the job, and Jim Mandala.

    I use his full name instead of an alias because I have nothing bad to possibly say about the man. His skills at commanding the respect and control of a room were god-like to me, a 22-year-old first-year teacher with no skills. His salt-and-pepper hair wasnbt the first thing people saw, nor was his crooked nose, likely broken in younger days (perhaps ten or twenty times).

    No, the first thing people noticed about Mr. Mandala was his chest, which was eye level for most people, including me. Standing about 6b6b, peering down a crooked nose and inclining his charcoal-colored head to boom, bCan I help you?b he cast quite an intimidating figure. With that said, he was a delightfully pleasant and competent administrator, for whom I would immediately work again.

    So, I was worried, but not threatened, to see him share the table at my meeting.

    bMatt, what do you think your strengths are in the classroom?b Jimbs tone was light as he hunched over his folded arms.  

    I was stunned. Strengths? Like, those things that good teachers have? bUh, I think that Ibm relatable. Students feel safe to share their problems with meb& for the most part.b

    bI can see that,b Jim smiled. bI also see that you have good content, you know the math, and youbre a great communicator. Other teachers have said so, as well.b I started to perk up. This meeting is going great!

    bWhat are some areas where you can grow in the classroom?b Rich asked, more uncomfortable than Ibve seen him. Rich is a delightful man who wears his heart on his sleeve. Ibm sure he makes a great husband; chicks dig honesty and openness. And it made me nervous to see him squirming in this meeting.

    bWell, obviously, my classroom management needs some work. I think Ibve learned a lot this year and Ibm ready to start fresh with next yearbs class and reallyb& really take control.b

    I reiterate, this was in February.

    bDo you think you are doing a satisfactory job this year?b Jim again, asking with total sincerity and politeness. Coming from him, this question would make most grown men soil their knickers.

    Even grown teachers, whose capacity for surprise is somewhere between EMTs and Jack-in-the-Box repairmen.

    bUhhb& no.b I stammered, looking at my shoes. bI donbt think that I am a good teacher yet.b I started to see where the meeting was going. Why Rich was so uncomfortable, why Jim made so much eye contact and spoke so softly. I was getting fired.

    bMatt, webre confident that you will someday be a great teacher, but we canbt wait for you to become one. We need somebody now who can bring our scores up for the ELD students. We will not be renewing your contract for next year.b

    bb&okay.b I was crushed.

    bThis isnbt getting fired; when you apply for jobs, you just say byour contract was not renewedb. You should write up a letter of resignation, have it on my desk by the end of the week, and webll both write up letters of recommendation for you to apply for jobs. Thank you for working so hard; itbs clear that youbre a team player and you really wanted to do well.b

    bb&thank you.b My voice was about an inch tall. I just wanted the meeting to end, but I knew a full day of work awaited me. Jim stood, shook my hand, and left.

    Rich sheepishly asked, bAre you okay?b Tears were already lining up just behind my nose, and that question called them out. bYeah, Ibll be fine.b I sniffed wetly with a smile. bIbll be fine. Ibve just never been fired before.b

    bYoubre not getting fired. Itbs just the end of a one-year contract.b I feel for him now; he got me this job, and now he had to be there while it was taken away. Rich gave me a hug and I went to work. I called Andrea during my break period and cried behind my desk.

    It sure felt like getting fired.

    In the process of prepping this post, I found this one from a few weeks after the above was written.

    If you read that one, just… remember that I like my job now. And I’m much better with kids.

    ~Matt “Not Fired” Vaudrey

  • Teaching is Mistakes

    One of my favorite teachers is Alicia Saldana. She teaches some of the most needy students in the school and requestsB to have them every year. She sometimes shares brain-dumps with me, and it’s my privilege to learn from her.
    This is what she sent me recently.

     

    Today, I let my best self be overshadowed by my lack-of-patience self. My self that has been state testing for 3 weeks and has a 4-month-old that decided during this, the most stressful and exhausting time of year, to sleep only 2 hours at a time. My self that is human (and totally imperfect) snapped at a kid when he tried to explain to me why he was bullying another student.

    Now snapping isn’t something I normally do, ever, but it was a perfect storm. It went something like this.

    bHaha! You got [student] in your group!b

    bExcuse me, this is a safe space. We don’t talk like that.b

    bMrs. Saldana, I said it because –b

    bThere is no excuse!b I interrupted. bYou can’t talk that way.b

    His head hung. He walked back to his seat and refused to work.

    Luckily for me, I work with a special education teacher who told me, bYou gotta let him tell you.b

    She was right. This wasn’t any kid making an excuse for bad behavior. It was a student who lives in a group home who rarely gets heard out and needs love, not a teacher snapping at him. In fact, his circumstances don’t matter. Any kid trying to explain behavior is an opportunity for me as a teacher to teach, not snap.

    Yes, he was wrong. Yes, he was being a bully. But there was no excuse for me not to hear him out.

    I approached him, knelt down at his desk, and apologized.

    bI’m sorry I snapped at you. I absolutely shouldn’t have done that.b

    No answer.

    bI want to know why you said what you said.b

    No answer. I waited. I wasn’t going to get frustrated. We were both going to learn from our mistakes.

    bI just said it because [other student] was saying that he wasn’t doing any work and she didn’t want to be in his group.b

    bBut was what you said helping or hurting?b I asked.

    bHurting,b he answered with finality.

    bAnd what should you have done instead?b

    bIgnored her.b

    bIt’s okay. We all make mistakes. We can both try harder tomorrow. I am really sorry I snapped at you. Webre okay?b

    bWebre okay.b He said

    I held out my pinky finger for him to promise that we were okay. We both walked away better people.

    Teaching is mistakes. It’s learning. The best way to teach kids that we can learn from our mistakes is to model that behavior.

    Yes. State testing has got me down. Yes. I’ve had a rough end to the year. No, this won’t be the last time I have to apologize to a student. It won’t be the last time I snap.

    But every time I do, I hope I’m always a brave enough, strong enough teacher to apologize and learn.

    ~Alicia Saldana

     

  • Growth and Humility

    Arrogance sits at the core of traditionalB education. The idea thatB the teacherB knows something andB the studentB needs to understand it.

    One sees this arrogance in many traditional classrooms; an authoritarian adult keeps children in an orderly array and provides tasks for them to complete. Dispensing knowledge like food from his/her vast coffers, teachers areB benevolent dictators at best and draconian Supreme Leaders at worst.

    A new teacher’s understanding of this idea is betrayed by their language, with phrases like,B “I struggle with keeping the classB under control.”

    Veteran teachers’ language shows that same ego, however: “I’m not giving you an A unless youB show me you deserve it.”

    In contrast, modern education isB [becoming] an environmentB of questioning and collaboration, where the ego of knowledge is dispersed among the students.

    Inward-facing desks is a start, but humility in a position of authority is tough to fake. The teacher must actually feel that students have value to add to learning, and that they can lead and follow each other, not just the adult in the room.

    Since humility requires practice,B I do my level best to find rooms where I ain’t the sharpest one.

    NCTM_R_LogoandName4C_L

    A month ago, I traveled halfway across the country to learn from other math teachers whoB also traveled halfway across the country; we all converged on Texas forB the largest gathering of math teachers on the continent. I watched from an enormousB crowd as speakers explained books that I had never readB and instructional strategies that I had never tried.

    I appreciate these chances to realize how big the world of education is. How exciting that there are new things to learn and new methods to try and new people to meet!

    In the face of such overwhelming ignorance, one’s ownB arrogance can’t survive; weB must replace it with humility and get to work.

    While I can certainly point to my favorite moments from the week, the general feeling of pre-enlightenment is my favorite part; not so much that I learned new things (I did), but that I learned how much more there is to learn.

    That is an exciting proposition.

    As our circle of knowledge expands, so does the circumference of darkness surrounding it. (Albert Einstein)

    ~Matt “I’ve never heard of that, can you show me?” Vaudrey

     

  • When Twitter Ain’t Enough

    three tweets, where I note that something is lost when interactions only happen online
    (click for link)

    There are dozens of math teachers that I admire from afar, many of whom converged on San Antonio this week for NCTM. I got to sit at the feet of these b my teacher-crushes b and hear firsthand what they may not share in print.

    That’s the point of conferences, right? To confer.

    Online, I get a two-dimensional view of these educators. For some, itbs a highly-curated image of their best work, best screenshots, and best writings, edited to perfection. Therebs a degree of anonymity online, where I can choose to show only the best parts of myself.

    Look at that picture to theB left. Thatbs the best picture of me that I have, so of course that’s the one I share.

    But when Ibm sitting six feet from Elham Kazemi, listening to her description of the five (six?) methods of student discourse, itbs a completely different experience than just reading her book.

    In literature, the digital persona would be called a bflatb character. Two-dimensions, no depth.

    By spending time in real life with colleagues from home and abroad, I can repaint them in my mind as broundb characters, full of life and detail and minutia that donbt come up in a tweet or blog post.

    Chris buys me a drink as soon as I arrive, then asks, bIf you could be any rockstar for a night, who would it be? Ibm asking everybody here.b
    Our new friends at the bar pitch their workshop toB Stephanie, who listens intently and offers thoughtfulB feedback.
    Ethan beams as he shows me pictures of his kids.
    Karrine b who Ibd never met b comes in for a hug: long-overdue, since she translated the Mullet Ratio into French for use in her schools in Ontario

    There are also imperfect parts to our round-ness, stuff you see from staff at your day-to-day, but not from teacher-crushes.

    Gray hair thatbs more prominent than it was when that headshot was taken.
    A foul mouth with a foot regularly placed in it.
    A laugh thatbs a little too loud for the room.

    (Some of those are me.)

    TheseB traits, the good and the fallible, are what make us real, what make us into actual people. These are people with whom I can have personal relationships based on professional interests.B An online network of math teachers is great, but shaking hands and being a smartass in person is important, too.

    See yball in Atlanta this summer.

    ~Matt bInterrupts sometimes and has a moleb Vaudrey

  • Port in a Storm

    Real talk: Autumn has been crazy in the Vaudrey household. Between prepping for CMC-South, traveling the country to talk about math education, and moving my family across town, this li’l blog has been neglected. The next several posts in the #DearClaire series will be weeks late, but I’m posting them anyway.

    Dear Claire,

    Monday, I attempted to re-create Guess My Rule to introduce linear functions. It’s a lesson starter from my first year teaching, and as such, is ten years old.

    It sure felt like something I hadn’t touched in 10 years. I give the lesson a D plus.

    Gross-face1

    Three years ago, I used a trial Mathalicious subscription and did the Domino Effect lesson with my class (then-results here). Two hours before class on Tuesday, I decided that’sB exactlyB what I wanted for the days’ lesson: a discussion about ordered pairs and what they represent, coupled with rate of change.

    Woulda been pretty cool if I’d have planned the period better. Instead, I took too long on the buildup and we scrambled the last 10 minutes to get to the grand reveal.

    C minus.

    Educator and genius Karl Lindgren-Streicher points out that anything can be done poorly b even one of my favorite tools for math teachers, apparently.

    Just before class, I tweeted this:

    Claire, teachers in the #MTBoS wear two identites all the time. For one of them, we are teachers who want to get better at our practice and are honest about our failings. Beneath the other hat, we write books about math education and travel the country speaking about math education and have Twitter followers from around the world listening to our thoughts on math education.

    Shouldn’t we have our actB together if other teachers on Twitter are listening?
    Shouldn’t we at least hide our struggles?

    No. No we should not.

    In that tweet above b one part modeling failure and one part fishing for encouragement b I was honestly and publicly reflecting about what to do when lessons bomb. Because they do.

    Claire, you’ve been very kind to me in my two years working with you as an Instructional Coach, but you’ve also been frank with me about which parts of my demo lesson didn’t work for your class and what you would’ve done differently.

    That honesty is important, as important as encouragement (which also came). Misty also saw that need in my tweets.

    Ugh. Yeah. Fine. But it’s not working for the class.

    Carly, for example b the studentB who respectfully pointed out “we shouldn’t be tested on this if we didn’t cover it in class” b called me over during test review last week.

    She asked, “Mr. Vaudrey, when are we going to practice more… like…B actual math? Like, I understand that all these things (she motions at the review problems printed on colorful “stations” around the room) are important, but like… are we gonna get more notes on, like, equations and stuff?”

    Ugh. Carly just loves when school is hard.
    “And can we please have more homework?”

    Students like Carly are accustomed to math class working a certain way. When their usual method of success no longer works, they get nervous.

    It’s not wrong to give students what they require to succeed in class; a variety of nutrients is necessary for a healthy diet. If they want notes, it’s okay to give them that for a meal sometimes.

    It’s wrong to feed them a steady diet of PowerBars, then wonder why their teeth fall out (educationally speaking).

    So where’s the line?

    Have I mentioned yet that Twitter is the best staff lounge? I’ve never even met Misty in real life.

    Wednesday, we took notes on expressing the same function four ways, thenB practiced in groups.

    The students needed some structure, so I provided it. Then, when they tackled the Desmos activity the next day, it went much better.

    While we’re speaking about the gap between theory and practice, between teaching teenagers and teaching adults, between modeling vulnerability and appearing an expert, let’s talk about Saturday.

    The San Gabriel Valley CUE affiliate held its annual mini-conference. Six hundred people attended, I had a great time modeling Appetizers for teachers, and one of my favorite teachers won the award for which I nominated her. The room full of her peers erupted with applause, praising her well-earned recognition.

    It was a great day for me as a coach, four days after a pretty gross day in the classroom.

    Contradiction? Very well, then it’s a contradiction. Teachers are vast; we contain multitudes.

    ~Matt “Walt Whitman” Vaudrey

    UPDATE: AB Desmos activity was dropped a few weeks later that isB much better for the purpose of getting students to understand functions multipleB ways. Dan writes about it here.

  • Tough Questions

    After dinner, taking a swim in the Atlantic, stopping by the Carnegie debrief dinner, and strolling on the beach with some of the staff, I returned to the bar on a Thursday night after giving the keynote address that morning a few weeks ago.

    Around the table are some folk I’d met at the conference earlier that day.B One of themB had asked for some of my time, so I was glad to catch him in a social setting.

    After several minutes of me listening and nodding, the group finally asked me some hard questions.

    Questions that nobody in my current circle is asking me and questions that I won’tB likely answer how they expect. Questions that made me pause and write them down in a Google Doc titled “Questions to ask myself later.” Questions like:

    • Where do you see yourself in five years?
    • You just spoke toB a room of 150, how will you get to a room of 500? A thousand?
    • Do you want a drink? We have a tab open.

    Inigo-Montoya-okay sure why not

    Vision and Math

    My initial responses headed down the usual, paved path of most of the country’s educators:

    “In five years, I’d like to be in progress on an Administrative Credential. I could go for an Assistant Principal job, but probably not a Principal. Of course, I’d be happy to return to the classroom. I really love teaching; in fact, I may return to the classroom and retire from there.”

    The director-type on the end shakes her head and pounds her drink on the table. “Bullshit. You’re eyeing the classroom because it’s easy and you know you’d be awesome at it. Think bigger. What are some goals that scare the shit out of you? Get outside your comfort zone.”

    anchorman-well-that-escalated-quickly

    Boy, she pulls no punches.

    Am I scared of big goals?

    I don’t think so.

    The classroom is a comfortable place for me, but that’s where student relationships are the closest. Relationships are far more important to me than math.

    After attempting to communicate this, it becomes clear that they aren’t buying it.

    Next to me, a guy says, “You may have impacted… fifty teachers in the room? Let’s say fifty. Each of those teachers have, what… 150 students? Think of that impact; think of how many students you’ve impacted today.” He raises his eyebrows.

    From the end of the table, one of them says, “What would you do if you could impact aB million students?”

    “Look at it this way,” I clarify. “I may have impacted 50 teachers today to change something. That’s probably… at the most, a 5% impact on fifty teachers times 150 students. If I impact 40B teachers in my districtB at, say, 80%, that’s likely still a greater net impact than if I am a full-time speaker.”

    We debated for a while longer until IB noticed my flight was due to leave in 7 hours. I decide to leave on a high note.

    “Okay. The dream that scares the shit out of me; I’d like to start a Teaching School in the same vein as a Teaching Hospital, like a lab where pre-service teachers could observe, learn, and practice alongside veteran teachers in cohorts. Glass walls in the back of all classrooms and it’d be paired with a nearby university, just like a Teaching Hospital. The teacher candidates get tons of classroom experience and observation hours. Plus, it draws teachers and students to the school, who are certain that it’s a great place to be.”

    The director-type on the end raises her eyebrows. “Fuck. I would love that.”

    I strolled back to my fancy hotel room, my head spinning with new questions and new ideas for my own career, wondering if I could steal director-type to run this kind of school.

    There’s a lot to think about.

    lying awake

    Days Later

    I realize that there’s an easy way to compare the impact of various careers.

    I made a spreadsheet.

    It’s clear that there’s no contest. Even after adjustingB the numbers to be crappy curriculum vs. mediocre coach, it’s tough to argue against a curriculum writer impacting the most students.

    Screenshot 2015-07-13 at 9.26.30 PM

     

    Still not enough to make me pursue that route, though. While “student impact” is a strong enough statement for a business card or a grant proposal, I’m not convinced that it’s specific enough goal for me.

    Do More of What You Love

    This week at Twitter Math Camp 2015, keynote speakerB Christopher Danielson encouraged the attendees to figure out what we love, then do more of that.

    I love personal growth.

    Students slowly buildingB their risk-taking muscles.
    Friends having tough conversations that will strengthen a relationship.
    Teachers plucking up courage to try new strategies.
    SpousesB learning more about what makes each other tick.
    A group of pre-service teachers figuring out their own classroom management style and defining a classroom culture.

    I love these things because I love personal growth.

    AndB itB can be done with only one person; I don’t need a million.

     

    ~Matt “Teacher of Teachers… of Teachers” Vaudrey

     

    P.S. A few of these “lab schools” already exist. Some other dreamers and I are buying bricks to build one in Southern California.

    If you’re interested, let’s talk more about it.

  • Principal Vaudrey

    Stacy, one my teacher sisters, shouted across the playground, “Why don’t you ask him? Mr. Vaudrey! Mariah has a question for you!”

    It was the end of the day, and I was walking back to my car as Stacy’s 4th graders walked to the bus.

    Mariah blushed and squeaked, “What if you were our principal?”

    I grinned and said, “Maybe someday, but for now, you have an excellent principal.”

    After nine months as EdTech Coach of Bonita USD, I’m starting to smell an administrative credential in my future. My wife made me promise to keep a job for at least three years before chasing the next thing, and there are plenty of ways to grow that will take longer than three years.

    But it doesn’t cost anything to dream. So I’m dreaming.

    Usually, I dream of admin credentials and Alaska. *Gasp* What if I were an administrator IN Alaska?!

    Much like Mariah’s current principal, my style would be hands-off, empowering teachers to take risks and figure stuff out, knowing they have my support. I’ll be picky as hell in interviews, so over time, my staff will be full of people like Jo-Ann, Elizabeth, and Jed.

    However–since you’re reading–I’d like to share a couple things I saw this year that have no place in my school and that I would absolutely chastise immediately (but I can’t this year as a teacher coach).

    Bad Grammar

    Your an educator and your students are their to learn. You’re door should have correct sentence structure on it, so there always seeing good grammar modeled.

    If you noticed the problems with the previous paragraph, you may come work at my school.

    Being Mean To Kids

    During state testing, the bell rang for lunch. Two 3rd-graders whispered, “Yesssss!”.

    The teacher stood up straight and barked, “That’s three minutes off lunch, right there! You gotta be quiet during testing.”

    He has no place at my school.

    Months earlier–during a demo in a first-grade class–the teacher interrupted me and pulled a squirelly, excited, 6-year-old to the side of the carpet, directed him to sit, barking, “If you can’t sit still, you won’t get to use the iPad today.”

    And he burst into tears.

    crybaby-crying-kid-cry-tear-tears-Above-the-Law-blog

    It gets worse.

    Offensive or Ignorant Remarks

    It’s eight weeks into my new job as Tech Coach. I’m sitting in the lounge with the principal and three veteran teachers, pleased to have some camaraderie as I commute through the 13 district schools in my car.

    “My husband is a cop,” says Margie, swallowing a mouthful of spinach salad. “And he says that every time he pulls somebody over now, they’re filming on their phones!”

    “And thanks to Twitter, that video can be shared publicly, so everybody can tell their stories,” I added, acutely aware that the conversation was about to go horribly.

    “Yeah! The cops are tried in the court of public opinion before their shift is even over,” adds the Principal.

    “Like this whole Mike Brown thing!” Adds Paige.

    Uh oh.

    “This huge kid tried to take the cop’s gun, and now he’s like… some martyr!” Margie stabs another mouthful of spinach salad. “He’s a thug!”

    I freeze my expression and my toes curl in my shoes at the word “thug.”

    “There are a bunch of guys like that in jail,” adds Cynthia adds with a grin. “Let ’em rot.”

    Holy shit. I gulp the mouthful of banana that I forgot to chew, sit up straight, and take a deep breath… then I freeze.

    I just met these people. If I unload on them here, I’ll lose their respect forever.

    Exhale.

    If I say nothing and get to know them over the next few months, then our next conversation about race and privilege will be better received and might actually change their minds.

    I left the lounge and sat shaking in my car in the parking lot, not totally sure that I wisely handled this situation: playing the long game and tolerating racism in the meantime.

    I recounted the whole thing to Stevens via Voxer and he concluded that yes, that situation was fucked up, which is a phrase neither of us use lightly nor often.

    Except when people use their power for harming kids. Those people make my blood boil and have no place at my school.

    Confident Meanness

    “Matt! Can I borrow you?” A blonde, middle-aged teacher in the back row waves me over during a break in our curriculum training.

    “My students all recorded video reports for their biographies, and I want to put them into Google and print out a Q code that parents can scan during Open House. Can you help me with that?”

    I grin, “Sure! How about after all of this is over?” I don’t correct her vocabulary; she’ll figure it out eventually.

    “That sounds great!” She replies, “I’m a huge tard with this stuff, so you might have to go slow.”

    I wince visibly on the word tard, but I don’t know this teacher’s name and figure I must have misunderstood her.

    “You used the word tard before. What did you mean by that?” Playing confusion tends to gently remind, without telling her what I would like to say.

    “Oh, like a retard,” she declares. Nobody in her row of tables turns to look. “I’m really slow when it comes to tech stuff, but I do want to learn. I’m gonna write everything down.”

    I’m heading to her class after this. We’ll see how it goes.

    I doubt she’ll earn a spot at my school.

    ~Matt “Principal V” Vaudrey

    UPDATE 2 June 2015: Andrew respectfully pointed out the need of a Principal to be gentle when needed. We both agree that a relationship provides reciprocated input between admin and staff, and a Principal must be a listener first. My rant-like tone here is rooted in helpless frustration for the things I cannot change.

  • Dear New Teachers

    It gets better.

    Really, it sucks now, but you’ll have more and more great days and less and less days that you wanna quit and move in with your parents.

    See?
    See? Math proves it.

    Working with new teachers in my role as a coach, I ask the question: “Why are you a teacher?” Their responses are as diverse as the teachers themselves:

    • I want to make a difference for kids
    • I love English and I want to share that love with kids
    • I had a terrible History teacher and I want to make sure there are some great ones out there, so I chose to be a great teacher
    • I want summers off
    • I want a paycheck
    • I don’t want to work hard

    Four years ago, I was hired at Moreno Valley, and the clerk in HR that processed my application said, “I can tell which teachers will make it and which won’t.”

    While she was probably full of it, you b the new teacher b can probably tell which of your classmates aren’t going to retire from the field of education. They’ll retire from Plumbing or Business or Politics or something that has nothing to do with kids or teaching.

    Education is a noble and just profession charged with equipping the young future-citizens of the nation, and it’s an honor that you get to be part of the solution every day.

    You, new teacher, got into this job for one of the reasons above, and that reason alone will sustain you in this career. If, at any point, you realizeB This isn’t worth it to me,

    …you’re right

    … and you should quit.

    Seriously. Quit.

    Leave the field before you get jaded, complacent, grumpy, or rude. Leave theB field of education before you cast a shitty shadow on teachers who love their job and want to make a difference.

    Leave before you make the rest of usB look bad.

    If you choose to stay, be prepared for hardest job you’ve ever had.
    Be prepared for chancesB to affirm students instead of disciplining them.
    Be prepared to work your ass off and still not be very good at your job.
    Then be prepared to have your contract expireB and start all over again.

    beprepared
    [Be Prepared joke goes here]
    All of those things were necessary for me. See, after my first year of teaching (the worst year of my life),B I had to figure out if the hard work was worth it for the theoretical payoff.

    I decided that it was. That the potential to positively impact the lives of young people was worth late nights, low pay, and being asked “How old are you?” all the time.

    Me in 2008. Notice I don't yet look very happy to be a teacher.
    Me in 2007. Notice I don’t yet look very happy to be a teacher.

    Further, teaching was the first thing in my life where I didn’t succeed quickly (you know… besidesB every sport during teenage years). It was years before I considered myself an average teacher, and I’m only recently getting affirmed by others as “a good teacher”.

    Students have cried in my classroom to me (more times than I can count), have shared their lives with me, their breakups, their addictions, and their struggles. As a teacher, I worked hard to be excellent at my job and the by-products of that role are still paying dividends.

    A family friend is wrapping up her first year in the classroom as a Teacher’s Aide. She had this to say about her career:

    When I describe my students and their lives to my dad, he cries every time. My friends gasp and cover their mouthes when I describe the neighborhood where my students live. Thankfully, I’ve been outside of the room every time one of my “all-stars” gets into a fight, so my only role with them is positive. I have students who don’t know their times tables in the same room with students who are bored with the slow pace of the teacher and I have to find a way to engage them all.
    I love my job and I can’t imagine doing anything else.

    Dear New Teacher,

    It gets better.

    Be patient and keep working hard; it will get better.

    ~Matt Vaudrey