Mrvaudrey

Category: Teaching

  • Building Trust: A Culture of Feedback and Vulnerability

    I’m typing this at the Palm Springs Convention Center during CMC-South, the California Mathematics Council conference. It’s been a highlight of my professional year every year of my career, and I’mbfranklybkinda surprised that math teachers are still taking value from my thoughts on subjects related to math education.

    Patricia Vandenberg and I worked remotely to prepare this 90-minute workshop, and since many folks were taking pictures and asking questions, I figure I ought to gather everything in a central location (besides this Twitter thread).

    The Problem – Why Give Feedback

    Ibve been running sound for about 20 years, and if youbve been in the room with a microphone before, the odds are pretty good that youbve heard feedback.B As a sound technician, therebs only bad feedback. If you hear a feedback loop, something is wrong.

    I spent lots of years teaching in schools like that, where I was out here doing my best, but I would only hear from the admin if there was a problem, and would assume things were fine when they never visited me.

    When staff feel empowered to give and receive feedback, they appreciate the culture of continuous improvement, and theybre less annoyed to get negative feedback.

    The only way to improve our practices is for someone else to offer feedback and for us to receive it and improve. It ain’t fun, it’s uncomfortable, but teachers and leaders can grow accustomed to that culture of continuous improvement.

    Anybody with a spouse or partner or roommate knows how it feels to get feedback that’s challenging and uncomfortable. It doesn’t feel good to fail. But every failure is an opportunity to reflect and grow, and the vulnerability it takes to receive feedback is what makes us better teachers and better spouses/partners/roommates.

    How and When

    When structuring feedback, there are four general steps that most people use (taken from Peter Foster here):

    For example:

    1.) Your students were seated for 53 minutes and you were speaking at the board for the first 30, including seven example problems.
    2.) While you know the most in the room about adding and subtracting integers, the students donbt always need you to figure stuff out.
    3.) Your studentsb behavior and noise level got worse and louder as the period went on, likely because they were getting tired of sitting and listening
    4.) Next lesson, break up your instruction time into pair-share, peer teaching, groups at the whiteboards, and also single out the students who are loud and off-task.

    This works for students, too: bYou divided both sides by negative 6, and you were probably expecting an integer answer. Are you sure that 712 divides into -6 evenly? Check with a calculator.b

    If those four steps are the what feedback looks like, then Jen Abrams has the how to structure feedback handled in her book.

    Her book (Having Hard Conversations) is a manual for people who struggle to tend to the emotions around a hard conversation. She also drops this line, which is too good not to share:

    As a White educator working in a mostly Black and brown school, I often use lines like this to focus on connecting actions and intentions.

    Another favorite of mine is to separate intent from impact. For example, bI recognize that wasnbt your intent to use language with a racist history, but the impact of your words made several students uncomfortable and their families called me about it.b

    As an Assistant Principal, I use a similar structure with students.

    I know you didnbt mean to threaten Hailey at lunch, but when you walked up to her with a group of friends and asked why she was talking crap about you, it definitely felt threatening to her and her friend.

    Promising Practice #1 – Feedback Form

    Both Patricia and I prefer the term “Promising Practices” to “best practices,” since students and schools change every year and “best” won’t be on top of the podium for very long.

    Early in my career, I worked at a charter school and my growth had plateued, since no admin or peer had the time to give me feedback. On the copy machine I found a Teacher Report Card and gave it to my students to offer anonymous feedback. Over the years, it grew more sophisticated, and both Patricia and I gave it to our students as teacher and as an Instructional Coach, and I now give it to my staff as an Admin.

    Promising Practice #2 – ObserveMe

    Teachers inviting people into their classrooms and naming the aspects of their practice they’d like feedback on. More on that can be found on Robert Kaplinksy’s website here.

    Promising Practice #3 – Ask for Feedback Directly

    Candra Loftis The principal at my kids’ elementary school is a rockstar. She came to us as a middle-school assistant principal, and I sat down with her to hear more about that process.

    She told me thatbthe first few months she was therebshe met with every staff member and had some variation of these two conversations:

    Mrs. Loftis modeled a vulnerability and a “flattening” of the power structure by asking for direct feedback from the staff that work for her. Who wouldn’t want to contribute to a school culture under a principal as awesome as that?

    Next Steps and Troubleshooting

    Both Patricia and I have attended CMC, heard great ideas, taken them back to the classroom on Monday and they… didn’t work the way we expected.

    We carved out time in the 90-minute workshop to discuss common problems with feedback and how to address them, then gave the attendees some time to plan for Monday.

    1.) Not getting enough feedback? Show people that you’re acting on the feedback you do get. People who didn’t offer their feedback the first time will be more likely to do so if they know you’re listening.

    2.) Not getting accurate feedback? Don’t take it personally. If you break all possible feedback into 4 quadrants, it might look like the diagram below, and only the feedback in quadrants I and II deserves your attention.

    I blogged more about that four years ago here.

    3.) Not getting critical feedback? You’re too awesome and not taking enough risks with new ideas. If you’ve been in my workshop or read this blog before, you know that “Take a risk” is a persistent theme for me.

    Summary

    The students are looking to the teacher to model how to handle feedback. They want to see how adults respond when theybre wrong, how we fail, make mistakes, and get better. And the math class is a great place to practice iterating and improving.B

    For leaders, we can model that same risk-taking, that same vulnerable response to feedback. We can model a culture of continuous improvement, soliciting and acting on feedback.

    Works Cited

  • Parent Involvement 2023

    The theme of my Ignite talk this past November was “Cringe and Do Better,” and it’s the reason I leave old blog posts up on this dusty old website. Boldly-declared stances from 2009 are almost all obsolete, and some are straight-up embarassing, but just as we want students to iterate and improve on their thinking, so we should expect the same from adults.

    So let’s take my thoughts on Parent Involvement from 2023 and etch them in stone on the internet, an ebenezer that will someday be a marker on my journey toward better and more excellent school leadership.

    By Sara Lawrence-Lightfoot, The Essential Conversation: What Parents and Teachers can Learn from Each Other

    It’s noteworthy that the book was first mentioned to me via a Twitter chat #ClearTheAir where teachers would focus on the impact of their biases and latent racism in order to become better and more equitable. (Link)

    Halfway in, however, I realized the book would help me more if I waited until I was a full-time school administrator, not just a temporary one. So I shelved it. Having finished it, there are 3 big takeaways for my practice this year and beyond.

    Takeaway #1

    I wasn’t trained for this.

    Right out of the gate in the Introduction, the author notes:

    And I knew that most [teachers] had not been adequately prepared in their professional training programs to build relationships with families as a central part of their work.

    That was consistent with my experience. I entered teaching in 2007 with one prior classroom lesson, no math classes taken since high school, and a Bachelor’s Degree in Youth Ministry and Adolescent Studies. While I was set up well to have appropriate and supportive relationships with students, I was woefully unprepared to set boundaries to govern those relationships with them. Additionally, my interactions with parents were plagued by fear and deference for a decade after I began.

    Here’s a quote from a blog post I wrote about that time:

    First-Year Vaudrey: Hellob& uhb& this is Mr. Vaudrey, Ibm calling to discussb& umb& Davidbs inappropriate jokes in class.

    Parent: Well, David is standing right here, and he says that you laughed when he made that inappropriate joke, so why are you calling me?

    My experience that first year were consistent with the next page in that introduction, where the author said:

    The Parent-Teacher Conference reflects a territorial warfare, a clash of cultures between the two primary arenas of acculturation in our society.

    and that “territorial” nature of the parent/school relationship is most present in my current role as school administrator. It wasn’t until I sat in this chair and made parent calls and had parent meetings that I felt what the author describes throughout the book:

    Takeaway #2

    Parents likely have strong feelings about middle school, holdover memories from when they were teenagers struggling with content, being bulled, or called to the admin office for discipline.

    As recently as this week, I have been learning that the how of my parent meetings is more important than the what we describe.

    To put it another way, my wife can tell youbearly in our marriagebhow frustrating our disagreements were. I would spend most of my energy defining the details of the disagreement, and making sure we were speaking in a level voice, not exaggerating, until she would finally throw her hands in the air and say, “Fine! It was a Tuesday, not a Wednesday! Can we just focus on the issue?!”

    I spent so much defining the playing field that I missed the game entirely. My principal and I met with a difficult parent, and he gave me the same feedback. “With a parent like that, you need to define what a win looks like, and it won’t be agreeing on what happened.“

    The author references that emotional connection multiple times throughout the book, noting that:

    [families] begin to feel the same way they felt when they were studentsbsmall and powerless.

    page 4

    To combat that feeling, I make a point to tell the family some version of this, “The sweet kid that you know from home? I know that kid, too! She’s not a bad kid, she’s a good kid. And good kids make bad choices every day. Our goal isn’t to punish kids, our goal is to help them make better choices.”

    Most of the time, they thank me for my attention.

    Most of the time.

    Takeaway #3

    Students need to be present and involved in the family conference andbby extensionbtheir own education.

    The author suggested having students present their own performance, grading themselves, sharing their own experience, and I think there’s a place for that. It isbunfortunatelybanother specific task that requires some expertise on the part of the teacher.

    • Which work do I select?
    • How do I structure the meeting so there’s a progression?
    • What if the student isn’t doing well?
    • How much trust do I place in the student to accurately represent themselves.

    With IEPs specifically, there’s a gap between what we’re discussing and the student’s ability to understand and contribute to the conversation. The best case-carriers I know will call on the students to share their strengths also.

    Problems with the Book

    There are large blocks of text that are hugely classist, portraying the rich parents as “involved” and the poor parents as “scared and emotional.” While that’s worth discussing, the author didn’t explicitly describe the privilege inherent in free time and a positive relationship with school. Not all families are able to get involved in their kids’ education.

    That’s the reason I shut the book before finishing it.

    ~Matt “Take the good, leave the bad” Vaudrey

  • Bad Teacher

    Shuffling through some old journal entries, I found this one from 2012, my 5th year teacher and the first year that I felt like a veteran who was choosing to keep improving. I’m posting it herebuneditedbin hopes that someone finds it and can be encouraged. There’s plenty here I no longer believe, but the core remains an accurate struggle of mine.

    Ibve been a bad teacher before.

    Ibve yelled at the whole class for the misdeeds of a few students. Ibve asked the whole class for advice on how to be a better teacher, then shushed them when I didnbt like the answer.

    Ibve argued with one student while the whole class looks on. Ibve attempted to win an argument by getting louder and angrier. Ibve raised my voice higher and higher until Ibm screaming something inane like bIn this classroom, we only sharpen our pencils during the warm-up activity!b

    Ibve also made a student feel like garbage in front of the class. I have found myself weeping after the final bell for becoming the same bully that tormented a younger me. Ibve made fun of students. Childrenband Ibve ridiculed them, half my age.

    Ibve made hundreds of mistakes in my quest to become an educator, but the most glaring errors arenbt those that make principals bite their lower lip and parents furrow their brow. No the biggest mistakes are the ones where I do nothing.

    Jason turns around to distract the three students behind him during the lesson, and I do nothing.

    Destinee screams at Jamal, bNobodybs talking to you, idiot!b and I do nothing.

    Kira stands beside her desk, taking notes and I do nothing.

    James sits docile, not raising his hand or talking to his neighbor about the math, or even showing his whiteboard on the practice problems, and I do nothing.

    Deon pushes Michael and says, bN*gga, mind your own business!b and I do nothing.

    Josh leans back in his chair and yells, bUgh, this is boring!b and I do nothing.

    My pride wants to qualify that most of these one-liners are years old.

    My shame reminds me that half of them happened this week, and more.

    In short, the biggest indicator of a bad teacher is one that allows students to leave the class without gaining every possible fraction of knowledge. Ibm a bad teacher for allowing students to NOT play the factor game. Ibm a bad teacher for allowing students to ignore homework assignments while I quietly dock their grade.

    Ibm a bad teacher every time I permit something that I planned as necessary.

    I was a bad teacher today, and my observer called me on it. Shebs totally right, and she wants me to be my bestbwhich is why she doesnbt permit anything less than perfect.

    b&it still hurts, though.

  • A Workshop is a Sandwich

    In the midst of my day-job in education, I have been speaking at conferences and events for several years. When it goes well, somebody will say as they leave, bgreat session!b And there are plenty of ways I can respond to this.

    • Thanks!
    • Thanks! Where do you teach?
    • Thanks! What part of it was memorable to you? How will this idea change what you do in your classroom on Monday?

    That last one has made people uncomfortable, and thatbs why I want to talk about how we define a “good” professional development (commonly shortened to PD).

    What Makes a Workshop “Good?”

    I just closed out the NCTM conference in the company of several dozen strangers (led by Justin and Shelby) as we discussed the properties of a sandwich.

    The workshop focused on “sandwichy-ness” as a vehicle for students to use in formal language with vocabulary. The later versions of that structure use three criteria to discuss a sandwich: ingredients, structure, portability.

    Letbs use those exact three criteria to describe what makes a workshop or professional development “good.”

    1.) Ingredients

    I have given a few hundred workshops in my career and a few thousand lessons to kids in classrooms. Some of them had ingredients that were satisfying to the participants and many did not.

    If I use only one metric to describe a bgoodb workshop, it wouldnbt matter how I packaged it, and a webinar, a lecture, a book, a conversation with my admin, and an interactive training on the computer could all have the same possibility to be bgoodb.

    With one metric, it’s not serving the definition of “professional development.”

    2. Structure

    My favorite way to learn includes a break every 10 or 15 minutes of instruction. Then, I’m able to talk with my neighbor or walk around the room or do something with my new information.

    This criterion is more of a challenge, because the structure of professional development varies widely, as do the preferences for how people like to learn.

    I shared the stage with someone recently. They lectured for 45 minutes, reading from PowerPoint slides full of text and bullet points with no pictures. After they finished, I had people unpack student performance and flex their own experience in pairs and small groups as they walked around the room.

    Every person I asked (the next day) appreciated the lecture more than my interactive session, with my principal going so far to say, bWas yours better, or was it just a style preference?b

    Itbs a solid question, and I still donbt like it.

    3. Portability

    In education, the effectiveness of a training is often measured by how well it can be applied to the classroom quickly. Early in my career, every large PD event had a dozen workshops that touted b12 math games you can use on Monday!b

    While very few of the sessions that I saw this week translate exactly to my day job, I was able to take nuggets of truth from every one of them, and portability is a fair metric for the success of the workshop. “How well does the new information travel to other locations?”

    A Good Workshop is a Sandwich

    Earlier this week, I posed a similar question (related to the conference):

    It’s gotta be profoundly difficult to measure a “good” professional development. Every conference has their own feedback forms that range from excessive up to simplistic. Here’s the one NCTM used this week:

    Too simple. There are hundreds of workshops at this event, and we’re leading with qualitative data for each one?

    Conference workshops vary as much as sandwiches.

    I propose an alternate ranking system:

    We can infer from their measurements what is important to the organization. I would suggest adding some questions that are more nebulous, not less.

    Becausebjust as tens of thousands of math teachers have very different preferences in their sandwichbwe want very different kinds of professional development.

    ~Matt “My workshop is a calzone” Vaudrey

  • Phases

    I haven’t been sleeping well lately, and I’m writing to share some of the thoughts that have interrupted my nights.

    Phase One

    My last several blog posts all orbit around a central theme;

    What kind of impact do I want to have on the field of Education?

    I’ve had a few thousand students pass through my rosters, and for many of them, my impact was limited to just the math. There is a handful of them who find me on Facebook or Twitter, but I made a real-life impact on very few of them.

    a pepperoni pizza from Round Table Pizza with the logo in the bottom right
    Pictured: Adequate for a specific time or event, but not outside of that

    Phase Two

    Phase two of my career has been focused on Adults. I’ve been the Ed/Tech Instructional Coach in Bonita for the last five years, and that’s coming to an amicable end next month. (More on that here.)

    During that five years, I’ve traveled the country, encouraging teachers and asking some hard questions about our craft. It’s been exciting and empowering.

    But there are limitations to how effective I can be as a consultant.

    a fancy chocolate milkshake
    Pictured: Glamorous, but unfulfilling in the long-term

    Phase Three

    So here’s what I want next:

    I want to be back on a school site and part of a staff.
    I want to know some students and parents by name.
    I want to be responsible for incremental growth over time.
    I want to help students and staff feel included and heard.
    I want to shine a light on practices that are hurting students from marginalized populations.

    a turkey and cheese sandwich on hearty bread with lettuce, tomato, and cheese all visible.
    Pictured: Sustaining and sustainable

    Andbif by some miracle, I can check all those boxesbI want a pony.

    That might be the most accessible goal on the list.

    For the last week or so, I’ve been spending a few hours a day on the campus of one of my middle schools, shadowing the Assistant Principal.

    It’s been absolutely nothing like I thought.

    What does the AP do?

    In my book of Education, I thought I had accurately written the chapter on What An Assistant Principal Does On A School Site.

    The first day of shadowingband every day sincebI have rewritten lines and crossed out sentences and scribbled in the margins of that chapter. I have realized that I actually know very little about what the AP does.

    The secretary and I had this exchange yesterday:

    Secretary: How’s your day going?
    Me: Great!
    Secretary: Having fun?
    Me: Nope! But learning a lot!

    a bowl of shrimp pad thai, with noodles, shrimp, several types of vegetables and garnish all visible.
    Pictured: Way more involved than I thought, with way more ingredients, but doable

    Shadowing the Middle School AP has been great; she’s had me investigate lunchtime fights, run reports for state testing, and tackle the Master Schedule with her. She’s excellent at her job and is quite good at helping me learn it.

    And within all those complex skill sets, there’s a sense of compassion and a focus on students that keeps me interested in the position.

    All those staff in the front office care deeply about getting kids what they need to be successful. Just like I did when I was a classroom teacher*.

    Being a school administrator is way more complex and way more exhausting than I thought. And I still wanna do it.

    Even if it’s months or years before I feel effective.
    Even if I stumble and do it wrong.
    Even if it’s not as glamorous as being Mr. Keynote Speaker.

    I want to be a school administrator.

    ~Matt “Mister… Bahdri?” Vaudrey

    *and if I don’t find an Assistant Principal job, I will be back in the class next year. More on that in a future post.

  • NCTM 2019

    …Since brevity is the soul of wit,
    And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
    I will be brief…

    Hamlet, Act II, Scene II

    About three hours ago, I arrived home from the National Council of Teachers of Mathematics annual conference. For less than 48 hours, I accumulated more experiences than would be wise to replay here, so I’ll pick a few standouts.

    There are no proper nouns in this post, so if you and I hugged, shook hands, did math together, or chatted in the last couple days, then just assume I’m writing about you.

    image: tsvsu

    Within a few minutes of arriving in San Diego on Thursday night, a half-dozen friends gave me hugs and invited me to sit with them. Now, “friends” is an unusual term to use here, since we only see each other once a year or so. But this small, unruly cohort (affectionately called the Math-Twitter-Blogosphere or #MTBOS) attempts to be inclusive, inviting, and loyal all at the same time.

    So to define “a peer in the field of math education who is interested in sharing their practice, learning from other, and contributing to the field as a whole,” let’s use the term math-friend throughout here.

    Peak Moments

    Read the next two sentences together before having any feelings about them, please.

    More than once this weekend, I met a new math-friend who said, “I saw you speak before,” or “I have your book,” or “I follow you on Twitter.” Invariably, I try to turn that recognition into camaraderie, to lower the perceived podium and sit alongside these new math-friends to learn together.

    The NCTM conference is full of teachers who fill big rooms at conference centers and get lots of notifications on their phone. Whatever word you wanna use to describe that group, they are only math-friends if they uplift and encourage others from the stage.

    The type of math-friend I want to be is a curious consumer of fresh ideas, an earnest listener of shared experience, and a good hugger.

    I hugged a lot this weekend.

    image: tzvsu

    Those hugs, those fresh ideas, and those shared experiences gave me life and encouragement and the strength to dig my fingers back into my local school system like it’s fresh pizza dough, shaping and molding with renewed vigor.

    The conference was full of Peak Moments (I think that’s the term), where things felt great and I was inspired.

    Valley Moments

    For some, the conference had its share of valley moments, too.
    (That’s … probably a term I just made up.)
    A sewage pipe burst at the Hilton, so I was roused from slumber after 4 hours with the smell of untreated shit wafting through the drains in my hotel. Not my favorite way to begin a day of learning, but I rallied.

    Years ago, when I first went to college, I was brought low by the newly raised bar of academic achievement. Suddenly, everybody in my classes was capable and hard-working, and sliding through class without breaking a sweat was no longer an option for me. It was humbling.

    That’s how some of us feel at these events; some of the top math educators in the world converge on one spot and share their favorite ideas. Compared to those folk, what I did in class last week wasn’t so special.

    “I feel mediocre!”
    image: rawpixel

    You’re a Great Teacher

    If you’ll indulge a food analogy:

    Of course.

    Defining a “great” chef is a challenge.

    Cooking (like teaching) is relative, prone to interpretation, and tough to nail down. Throughout the last couple days, I had a Cuban sandwich, a breakfast buffet, and a bacon burger, all of which were “great” in their own way.

    Teachers, it’s easy to glance sideways at your fellow chefs and compare. What’s “great” for your classroom is always going to be different from your neighbor, and you can be great at dozens of things, all of which combine to make you a great teacher.

    You’re a great teacher.
    NCTM and Twitter and math-friends all combine to us more great.

    More tools, more ideas, more resources, more support, and more hugs.

    ~Matt “More Hugs” Vaudrey

    NOTE: Hilton responded really well. They got me a fresh room in the morning and 50,000 Hilton points towards a future stay.
    If I weren’t so exhausted, I would have asked for the points/dollars conversion and compared it against nightly rates.
    Instead, I just said, “Thanks,” and went to get dressed.

  • 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

  • Why We’re Here

    Our last day of school was June 6th, a minimum day. After submitting final grades and textbooks and turning in keys, both students and teachers zipped home in time for a celebration lunch.

    Each of our 13 schools was notably quiet by the usual release time. Only secretaries, principals, and the occasional support staff remained.

    The Ed/Tech Department was far from done. Like most District Office employees, we have a full summer of projects to prepare for the next school year, including cleaning and updatingB every ChromebookB in the district and re-organizing the carts for student use.

    This meant that we were on each school campus as it was totally clear of students.

    There’s a strange emptiness when a school has no students on it. Blessed as I am to spend my school year around happy children, the exact same locations felt incomplete during the summer, their vacancies sharp and palpable.

    I’ve baked cookies before and forgotten ingredients. The end result was not at all what I was expecting, even though most of the stuff was there.

    This was kinda like that.

    We have entire departments at the district office tasked with making sure the grass is trimmed, food is cooked, and employees are paid on time. Some of those employees go weeks without seeing kids.

    Hanging out in these places kidless was a clear reminder that summer is a welcome reprieve, but the real work happens when students are back on campus.

    Like the picnic tables, play areas, and sidewalks, our role b teachers and staff b is unfinished without students around.

    My family and I had a very restful summer break and I feel no remorse for tuning out during July.

    And I’m excited to get back into my favorite job in the world. At once challenging and fulfilling, exhausting and life-giving, improving and imperfect.

    Students come back next week. Let’s get to it.

    ~Matt Vaudrey

     

  • Pattern Play Pedagogy

     

    A month ago, I wrote about my comfort with my daughter doing something imperfectly. An update happened this week that I want to share with you:

    Link to Amazon

     

    Pickle’s birthday was last month, and she was gifted (along with lots of glitter and pink crap) the box of wooden blocks* seen above from my friend Patricia. This week, she asked to play.

    Math Teacher Daddy immediately asked, “What do you want to do first?” and hid all the cards. Pickle opted to dump all the blocks out and reassemble them into shapes on her own. I did the dishes while she did that, becauseB unsupervised play is a great way to explore. Then she asked to try a card.

    Pickle arranging right trapezoids in the frame, but oriented so they look correct from her perspective, but not a perfect match.

    Do you see what I saw immediately?

    I sat next to her as she began to stack blocks in the frame. Being an adult, I have no issue translating abstractions into their concrete selves. Pickle is 5.1 years old, and didn’t notice that the slanty part was supposed to be viewable from the top, not the side. Note the yellow blocks below.

    Pickle has arranged about half the card, but the 45-degree angles aren't visible from the top.

    This took forever. This was our first time playing, and I wanted to touch the blocks, to arrange them into patterns, and to try and find a new way to pattern them. Sitting next to a child andB not interfering as they explore is really hard, and as soon as I start moving them around, she’ll follow my lead. So far, she’s directing the play, and that’s important to note, because of what happened next.

    My wife (as I’ve mentioned before) had plenty of success in the traditional math class, but is slowly coming around to my philosophy of the modern classroom with multiple and varied means to mastery. She joined us in the kitchen when Pickle was 1/3 of the way done with her first card.

    “Honey, use the green one next.”
    “Turn it over.”
    “You should put the yellow ones together first.”

    My … lovely and helpful bride was taking Pickle’s proverbial hand and leading her down a paved path. I want Pickle bushwhacking in the brush and finding her own way.

    Pickle and I smiling at the camera.

    After Mommy implicitlyB suggested that Pickle should shoot for perfection on the first try, Pickle began to get frustrated and didn’t want to place a block if it didn’t match the card, which she couldn’t really read anyway. She pushed the frame away and said, “It’s too hard.”

    I glared at my wife, who immediately realized what she’d done. Confidence and fun were lost, so I had to restore both, and quickly. “Pickle, I have an idea. How about we do some together? Hand me that pink one.”

    Some in the audience will note that our board doesn’t lookB exactly like the card, to which I say, “Yep! Shush.” Because look how proud that kid is.

    I don’t need perfection yet, because enjoyment of the task is more important. We immediately dove into another card.

    We built the bottom half first, but when I attempted to spin the box so we couldB keep the bottom half as our focus, Pickle resisted. Okay. Fine; you’re the boss. Then on to a third card.

    Our third card prompted this phrase form Pickle, which comforted me.

    I know how these ones go together because I saw how to do the other one.

    Then I asked, “Do you want to stop for now?” and Pickle said yes. So we congratulated ourselves as we packed up the pieces. “Wow, honey; you did three cards on your first try? Do you feel proud?”

    Of course she said, “Yeah!” whether or not she actually felt it. That’s a path I’m happy to pave: she knows the correct answer to my leading question is “yes!”

    And b as expected b someone on Twitter says it better than I:

    Think about your own classroom. How quick are you to jump in and pave a path for students to quickly reach perfection? Sure, they’ll reach the answer quickly, but that’s mostly because they followed you. How will they do on an assessment once you’re not leading them? Or when there is no path at all?

    Tasks like Pattern Play and the Appetizers found here allow for students to build Number Sense by bushwhacking and using whatever means necessary to reach the goal, and along the way, they’ll build skills and strategies that make the going easier.

    Some might say they’re stomping their own paths.

     

    ~Matt “The Green Slanties” Vaudrey
    UPDATE 14 November 2017: We played again last night and found an interesting situation:

    *I called the blocks “right trapezoids” when I first opened the box. Neither my wife nor Pickle were amused, and both insisted they were just blocks.

  • Jasper or Learning is Hard

    Earlier this year, my department adopted a new data-tool. It generates lovely reports that teachers and principals can use to understand numbers and stuff.

     

    It’s also super-complicated and the forum is fairly sparse. My search for support also took me to YouTube, which was equally fruitless.

    image of a graveyard
    “Wow. Last uploadB in 2011, huh?”

    I found myself grumbling as I attempted to wrangle it into a form I understand:

    This is stupid.
    I don’t need this.
    My life has been great before this system; how is this going to make it better?

    But I stuck with it; my director expects me to learn how to use it, and that’s enough reason for me. Also, I’m aware that a positive mental attitude will make this more likely to stick.

    After a couple hours, I realized:

    This is how some teachers feel in every tech workshop I do.

    Who cares about Google?
    My class is just fine without Desmos.
    Students don’t complain now, so why should I learn about Haiku?

     

    After lunch, I had another epiphany:

    This is also how some students view math class.

    Who cares about completing the square?
    I have basketball practice later, I can’t focus on fractions.
    I have an A already; why should I care about periodic functions?

    Learning is hard. It’s your attitude that dictates your success.

    Change your attitude, stick with it, and the learning will come.

     

    ~Matt “This still ain’t much fun, but I’m pressing through” Vaudrey