The tweet itself got a couple thousand views and led to some good conversations last week and thatB weekend.
Which is kinda what I’m talking about. I think…
I think I’m a better coach than a teacher.
That’s a weird thing to be sheepishB about.
ThatB Sunday, I went to the EdTech Team’s High Desert GAFE Summit to present on stuff. It went great. People commented about how helpfulB it was, how great that I’m back in the classroom since I’m so energetic and engaging, and I even sold a fewB books while I was there.
Then today, I dragged two periods of freshmen through Graphing Stories and just… didn’t feel like a great teacher. Jack forgot his glasses, but insisted he got contacts this weekend. Katherine’s new seat in the middle of the room was a bad idea, since she can now distractB everybody in the back half of class, andB all of 6th periodb despite being lovely as individualsb struggle to get through anything as a group.
In the gap since I was last a teacher, I’ve had my head in theB theory of teaching, waxing rhetorically about the death of homework or reading books about theB inclusion of students of color in meaningful waysB or sharing ways to increase student voice and agency in the classroom (including this on Wednesday).
image: Ricardo Williams on flickr
What a blessing to be an instructional coach and have the lowered stress level so I canB dream about education outside of the four walls of aB classroom, without worrying about the new seating chart that I promised them forB Monday and didn’t even start yet and lunch ends in 12 minutes and dammit I still have to make copies and I haven’t even erased the board from Friday yet.
It’s easy to dream about big ideas, but some of the dailyB stuff is kicking my ass.
And worse than that; I’m feeling like the stuffed-shirt, overpaid, abstracted Educator that presents at conferences about ideas s/he hasn’t tried.
I’ve satB in those sessions and rolled my eyes and murmured to my teammate, “Aw, he’s aB consultant.”
What can s/he possibly know aboutB real teaching?
“Babe,” says my wife. “You’re your own worst critic. Your class is probably a funner place to learn than other places on campus. Many of those kids probably just sit silently the rest of the day, but they get a voice in your room.”
While she may be right, I’m not convincedB yet that I’m doing anB excellent job.B Every day is a risk (which doesn’t scare me) and I’m worried that I’m not as good a teacher now as I was when I left (which scares the hell out of me).
I’m curious to see what Wednesday’s Teacher Report Card results look like. Of course, I’ll post them here.
~Matt “No disrespect for subs. Your job is really hard.” Vaudrey
I drafted this post, but never published it last week.
This was a week of transitions, one in which I was very thankful for this blog, twitter, and my wife as a sounding board.
On Monday, the air-conditioning in room 908 still wasn’t fixed, and the temperature climbed to 89B0 before 6th period ended. David (a student you’ll meet in a few months) suggested, “Why don’t we go outside? There’s a breeze.”
The feeling when it’s the fifth week of school and the A/C /still/ doesn’t work.
So we did. We took our whiteboards and worked through literal equations outdoors. It was… pretty good. I took 7th period to the air-conditioned library to do the same thing. It was also… justB pretty good.
I came home and wrote a post (that I didn’t publish) about how I wanted more traction with the students. We’re four weeks into the school year; surely by now there should be some sense of what a “normal day” feels like. Or worse, their chatty and tough-to-wrangle behaviorB is a “normal day,” but I’m too much of a softie with my classroom management to notice it.
That’s a distinct possibility.
Shibuya (who teaches next door) and I chatted about the need to be strict without being rough, stern without being mean, and… that’s hard for me. I’ve been telling new teachers for the last three years that “students can smell when you’re doing someone else’s lesson or someone else’s management style. Be genuine.”
Now here I am, being genuine and realizing that I should have higher expectations for how we treat each other.
All of those feelings happened on a shortened-schedule Monday with no air-conditioning.
Fast-forward to Tuesday and Wednesday, where we did notes and whiteboard practice for solving and graphing inequalities. They were on-task, respectful, and we blew through plenty of content.
Here’s my internal struggle. Not the oneB about being nice vs. stern. A different struggle.
Students appear to want notes and whiteboard practice more than weird and innovative lessons.
There. I said it.
Not just in their collective compliance, butB out loud.
“Your way is weird. Can I just use the formula?”
~Madi, period 7
There’s more. The piece I’m realizing (right this minute, as I type) that I’ve forgotten:
Of course, they will be quieter when they’re writing stuff down. And that looksB like compliance and desire.
Claire, that post I drafted onB Monday was falsely correlating silence and engagement.
Wow, that last post came out much darker than the week felt. There was plenty of good stuff, even some times where I was laughing out loud while students were learning. One of the highlights from Week Two was:
Back to School Night
I found your old Powerpoint from last year and, since it was all fromB the syllabus, made some new slides instead.
Families in attendance were asked to guess what these numbers meant. After a short musical cue to stand and talk to those around them, I took guesses, celebrating each person who volunteered a guess.
Since the students haven’t met you yet, they were on equal footing with theirB families, trying to guess how these numbers could be related. I asked, “Why?” for each suggestion and there were some beauties:
74 couldn’t be your birth year; you’re not nearly old enough.
Any of those besides the first one could be number of years teaching, except that middle one.
Is the second one your shoe size? Is Mrs. Verti, like,B really tall?
“Hours of sleep last night” led us nicely into pictures of you and Vicky, plus pictures of my kids. Students were pleased to see what you look like, since their only evidence of you so far has been what I tell them (all good things, of course).
(It occurs to me, I should have asked you first before ripping your Facebook profile picture. Sorry about that.)
After that, I gave them the code to sign up for Remind updates, a QR code for the school website, and then we did some actual math.
“Students might be familiar with this method; we’ve done a few of these. Everyone, when you hear the song, you will choose a corner. Stand in the corner for your choice; which one of these shapes doesn’t belong with the other three?”
The parents stood uncertainly and, en masse, chose letter C,B moving to the corner by the door.
The song ended, and I asked, “Okay, herd. Why did you choose C?”
They chuckled awkwardly until someone said, “It’s curvy.”
That person got two claps, then we turned to the lone two or three people who chose E. “It’s the only vowel.” Two claps.
I stood. “Can I tell you what some kindergarteners said? In a Kinder class, the studentsB said, ‘If it rains, H is the only one that will fill up with water.’ Isn’t thatB adorable?”
They all chuckled.
“Tess’s dad, you asked something right when the song started that I want to mention. You asked Tess, ‘What’s the right answer?’ That’s a natural question for many of us. Years ago, when we were in math class, it was focused on who could get the right answer the fastest in the fewest amount of tries.”
Several nods around the room, a deep voice in the back says, “Yep.”
“It’s possible that some of your students have come home and said, ‘Math isB weird this year.’ That’s a natural feeling, too; the class isB less focused on theB right answer and more focused on the why, aB question you heard me ask several times this evening. You can ask that question at home all the time, just get your students talking.”
Claire, it’s possible that students will be more comfortable under your more-advanced tutelage, and I’m hoping they’ll at least be interested in explaining their reasoning.
I’ve recently become re-acquainted with three friends.
Since I left the classroom, my three friends and I haven’tB talked as much. We just… had less common ground; the time together gotB more cumbersome and more full of awkward silence.
You know how it is; eventually, youB start ignoring their calls.
“Oh… hey guys…” (I’m the woman in black, looking for any excuse to ditch these three.) image: David Woo
Since subbing in your class, these three have kicked in my door, demanding we get reacquainted.
Guilt
image: tishamp
It was probablyB Tuesday of this week. Seventh period had just clambered out the door after a clumsily-ended lesson. As I collapsed into the desk chair and felt the presence of Guilt leaning over my shoulder.
“That didn’t go so well did it?” I could feel Guilt’s smug grin and thinB eyebrowsB peering at my plan book, which readB Double Clothesline – Equations.
There wasn’t much else in the book.
Guilt continued, “Perhaps you could have prepped a little better. Some of these students are taking this class for the second or third time, you know. Don’t they deserve anB excellent teacher?”
Guilt straightened and folded his arms behind his back. “If they were your children, what kind of teacher would you want for them?”
As Guilt turned for the door, he shrugged and called back over his shoulder with a smirk, “And Claire is counting on you to get these kids ready for her when she comes back.”
Then he left.
Before the door could close, a knobby set of knuckles grabbed it and swung it open again.
Time
image: Terry Chapman
I didn’t see herB at first; my head was in my hands, staring down at my planning book.B Dammit. I take a deep sigh.B I see exactly where I botched 7th period. If I could do that lesson again tomorrow, it’d be way better.
“No can do, Matty-O.” I look up to see white-haired Time leaning against a student desk, her wrinkled skin bunching below herB smile. “Tuesday’s done and you’ve got to finish the Solving Equations Unit before the test on Thursday.”
She tapped a large watch on herB wrist. “I wait for no one. Tap them feet; you’ve got progress to make.”
“Okay, hold on.” I complain. “I didn’t start 7th period the same way that I did 6th, so now I have classes with two different depths of understanding. Can I get a do-over?”
“Ha! Nope,” barks Time, her head shaking back and forth onB her frail shoulders. “Plan tomorrow’s lesson, not today’s again.”
I leaned back in my chair as the watch on herB wrist began to chime. “Oops! Gotta run!”
And she sprinted out the door.
Adrift
image: DaiRut
The door clanged shut just as the A/C hummed on. It’s been 80 degrees during 7th period since school began last week, so the students get squirrelly and crotchety. OfB course, it kicks on now, at 2:57.
I tiltedB my head back and stared at the discolored ceiling tiles.B The pacing guide is good, but the textbook and standards are new. I thoughtB to myself.B It’s natural for teachingB to be hard… should it beB this hard? Am I working hard at doing it wrong?
“Wurf.” The third friend, a lazy St. Bernard, plodded in and collapsed below the vent in the middle of the class.
She first joined us mid-WednesdayB afterB a fairly traditional lesson. We did a warm-up, then notes, then practice problems on the whiteboard. The students were more orderly and more comfortable following orders and solving equations using the standard algorithm than they were using the Double Clothesline method.
I looked down at my plan book.B Is it worth it to attempt to un-learn the standard algorithm so they can seeB why it’s important? Am I doing more harm than good here?
Adrift shrugged her shoulders, vacantly looking around the room, as if counting the lights or wondering if all the pieces ofB notebook paper could fit together to make one whole piece.
I pulled up a Twitter window on the computer and typed,
Teaching is the best and hardest job in the world, in large part, because the goal posts are nebulous/can shift in the 5-min passing period.
Adrift coughsB and makes eye contact for the first time.B Really? She rolls over, not waiting for my response.
“This is good,” I say out loud. “It’s good that I’m feeling this again; the whole point of me stepping back into the classroom was to remind myself of what teachers feel on a daily basis. The feeling ofB plotting my own course through the curriculum, even when I co-plan with some teammates is a natural feeling for teachers.
Adrift yawns and flops her head down on my Teacher’s Edition.B If you say so.
Claire, my three friends weren’t welcome additions to my calendar this week; in fact, I’ve quite enjoyed being free of them since I took the job as Ed/Tech Coach two and a half years ago.
Yet for my teammates, for the few hundred who have sat in my workshops since I left 30 months ago, and for you, Claire,B I should really do a better job of keeping up with them.
“Credibility” was one of the reasons I volunteered to pick up a long-term sub job, toB remind myself what teachers feel.
The title of this post is two real things that were written in students’ name tents this week. I saved them all, so you can learn a bit about your students when you return.
The first week went off without a hitchb & mostly. The issue that I relayed to you over the phone has already been repeated enough by me. I’m bugging myself that I’m so quick to share that negative story, so I’ll keep it out of print here and focus on the positive:
Students are beginning to understand that:
A)B High school math is different and
B) They will have to talk to each other in class. Quite a bit.
“Now class, you may mumble, ‘Fascinating!’ as you return to your seats. In rows. No talking!”
I think I have done aB satisfactory job of framing the class as yours, with me as the long-term substitute. You are such a Classroom Chef, you will have no issueB taking over and adaptingB the class culture and routine to fit what you want.
And it’s a mark of your own risk-taking nature that you’re willing to let another cook in the kitchen. Well done.
Even after one week, the students begin to sort themselves based on the expectations of previous math teachers. Using the name tent, students were able to share information about their past math experience with me discreetly. I also got some great data from the math attitude survey, but I will save that for my talk at the CMC SouthB in November.
Here’s a hint.
This week, I’m hoping to get students’ math notebooks started, begin a math journal (Fridays, maybe), and try the Double Clothesline for solving equations.
This will be the first of hopefully many lessons that will either surpass my expectations or fail grandly with someone watching. Either way, yee-haw! Taking a risk!
Unrelated: Since I’m still an instructional coach in addition to this sub gig, I got to walk classes the first week of school. After witnessing a classroom that’sB sure to make students hate school, I unloaded on Kris.
In her usual composed, empathetic way, she patted my hand and encouraged me to “pick the battles worth fighting.”
“But, but,” I stammered. “Like, you see and hear about bad teaching more often than I do, plus you sent two of your own kids through school! How do you not burn the classB down in frustration?” I pleaded.
Teaching two periods of Integrated Math I while Claire Verti takesB maternity leave, these are my public letters to her, as part of a 12-week series. Hopefully, she starts a blog when she returns.
Dear Claire,
I’m sweaty. The air conditioning went out around lunch, so the temperature soared pastB 80B0 for sixth and seventh periods.
My voice hurts. Leading a classroom based on discussion is stillB a lot of work.B It’s a lot of talkingB to do in the first day of school; even with only two periods, my teacher voice is a little horse.
I’m busy. I’m wondering how I will be able to stay on top of the prep and still be out the door with time to play with my kids. That wasB kinda one of the conditions my wife laid out before we started this. It’s the same amount of prep for not much fudge.
I’m a team player. I found out that our classroom is being used for fifth period, which is fine; it’s a great class and it shouldn’t sit empty half the day.B The bummer is that I only found this out when students began to line up at the door after fourth period. I had planned to use that time, instead I helpedB that teacher make a seating chart based on my desk arrangement, which you can see here.
I’m annoyed. Adriana and I are still not listed as co-teachers for your class, which means we can’t take attendance or post grades. I think I just got an email from the IT guy. Hopefully there is some good news there.
I’m giddy.
Let there be no doubt:
I am GIDDY to teach two periods this quarter.
I’m excited. Both classes took a survey on their math ability today. There were three or four students in each class that didn’t have a smart phone with them, which means (if I supplement with Chromebook and stuff) it should be encouraging when we try to do entry and exit checks later this year. The data from that math attitude survey will (hopefully) show growth when I re-survey them in late October.
(I really hope it shows growth. I’m kinda presenting on that very thing at CMC-South the following week.)
I’m pleased with myself. An enormousB freshman in seventh period was wrestling with the Open Middle problem, and he blurted, “This is harder than Pre-Calculus!” Now, there is no way heB could know that, but it felt good it just the same*.
I’m feeling more and more confidentB in the classroom we’re constructing; itB shouldB be handed to you seamlessly in early November when you return. I’m figuring out ways to smoothly sample all students, use musical cues, and maintain a focus on the process of mathematics, not the result of the process.
Andrea told me this weekend, “I am really glad you are not in the classroom full-time anymore. In the last two weeks, I’ve heardB you frustrated by a lot by things teachers can’t control. It’s one of many reasons I’m glad you’re a coach, where you have greater influence toB help kids learn.”
She gets me.
These next 12 weeks might shove me into in school administration credential yearsB soonerB than I expected.
In all, you have 72 delightful students that should be trained well in the process of risk-taking, explaining their thinking, and working as a group.
And a lot of them are white! My schools in MoVal and Pomona had a 6% white population; I am not accustomed to so many students named Madison or Jacob.
We have four of each in our two classes.
~Matt “Another White Name” Vaudrey
*I later found out, he’s a Junior, so… never mind.
Today is the first day of school for Bonita Unified School District. Last week, I puttered around classrooms and chatted up new and returning teachers, aligned SmartBoards, planned out musical cues, and suggested desk placement.
All of which is great, most of which was helpful, and none of which was stressful.
This is year two inB my role as Educational Technology Coach, and it’s the first first-day-of-school in my career where I’ve slept soundly last night and not had an anxious, runny poop this morning.
In the classroom, the first week before students arrive is my favorite week of the year. The desks are clean, the rows are straight, nothing smells like sweat or feet or Flamin’ Hot Chee-tohs. Nobody’s gotten detention or dumped or an A-minus when they really wanted an A.
In a classroom without students, only potential exists.
Every teacher–the weekend before school begins–is an idealist. The class, before filling with bodies, is full of hope.
For seven years, I preppedB my room in a frenzy, often putting in 10 or 12-hour days to get it just right.
Unpaid, by the way.
Without fail, some student with no respect for my hard work would tag “Kiki flexxxxin” on one of my posters.B My carefully-constructed classroomB crumbled to dust within weeks.
But that first week? No tears; only dreams.
Dreams that every student will learn. Dreams that no students will exclaim they hate me as they flip overB chairs. Dreams that none will scrawl “asshole” in pencil on my door.
Anyway, that’s not even what I wanted to write about.
The Bottom Ten
During my first year as tech coach, I sought to make disciples at each of my 13 school sites. By building into the Top Ten Percent of tech-hero teachers–those who would still innovate without me–I’d pump motivation through the “sprinklers” at each site who would spread the word about how helpful and approachable I am.
That kind of happened. Many teachers I never met know who I am.
This year, as my office is full of dreams and potential, I’m shooting for the Bottom Ten Percent.
At our kick-off event, the Bonita Educational Technology Adventure (BETA), I gave a workshop for the Tech-Hesitant. It went pretty well, answering questions, tackling real-classroom situations, and addressing the things that are scary.
One of these teachers chatted with me later that week to ask about how to use Google Classroom, but then lock student work after it’s done until the test.
After attempting to dissuade her, I promised to ask Twitter about it. As I expected, none were interested in even trying to find an old-school solution.
Technology is a good excuse to do things differently… like continuous revisions. https://t.co/AkIsAf6ORz
While my business card says, “EdTech Coach,” I’m actually more interested in learning. And not just for students.
During my workshop, I pushed back when I heard Tech-hesitant teachers use phrases like these:
“It’s probably easy for you, you’re so young.”
“Well, I’m not a digital native, so…”
“There’s just not enough time to learn ______.”
When someone drops one ofB theseB dismissive excuses to continue hiding from challenge, I have a dozen responses, but the one I chose for the BETA event was this:
“When I go to the weight room, I see people in there that are enormous. They have shoulder muscles and neck muscles and … theirB muscles have muscles. They’re huge.
I can tell that they’ve been to the gym before. They didn’t get those muscles without spending time specifically working on them.
Technology is no different. Years ago, I was clumsy with technology, didn’t type well, and had difficulty navigating the internet. But I kept spending time in the gym, and my tech muscles grew.
You–the tech-hesitant teachers–you can also grow your tech muscle. Just keep putting in the time, even when you’re feeling weak.”
~Matt “Finger-Muscles” Vaudrey
P.S. I’m content to refer to this group as “The Bottom Ten” for several reasons:
1.) They’ve admitted their low status to me, “I’m probably the least techy person at my school.”
2.) Those that cling tightly to what’s comfortable are those who can transform their classroom the most with fresh ideas.
3.) SeventyB of them attended my workshop, that’s the bottom fifteen percent of our district, and they were willingB to self-identify.
4.) Growth can happen anywhere. If they believe that they were in the Bottom Ten and could become the Top Fifty, they’ll be interested in improving.
UPDATE 3 September 2017: Yesterday, President Trump pledged to end DACA, which would make Karena (in the story below) an undocumented immigrant and one of the 1.5 million “good ones” vulnerable to deportation. This is a heartbreak for me and I’ve been thinking about her family all day. The first half of this post is relevant to that issue and the bottom half is tangential, but still important.
Both of those topics are uncomfortable to discuss with family or people from work.
That’s exactly the reason why we should talk about it.
Read all the way to the end.
Karena
Five B years ago, I taught math and was senior advisor to a group of 114 stinky teens that I’d known since they were sophomores.
It was magical.
That was the year Flaco Suave joined the all-teacher rap crew at lunch.
At this particular school, most of the seniors were low on credits and trying to scrape by with a C- so they could walk at graduation.
Karena: I love everyone around me, thatb s why I always say b Hib . Youb re my homie.
Bubbly, friendly, social, hard-working, and musically-gifted, Karena played guitar and sang in her family band while maintaining a 4.0 GPA. She had a thick Mexican accent, but that didn’t stop her from loudly proclaiming her affections for one of my younger students in the Pre-Calc class:
Karena: Gustavo, you look cuteB today. Guys, when me and GustavoB have our kids, you are going to be the Godfathers.
Yesenia: Godparents.
Karena: Gustavo, where you going? Oh, he got me a ruler, how cute. Ib m-a take you to Mejico and show you my ranch and my cows. Ib m-a put you on my burro. Do you want to see my burro?
Gustavo: No.
Ray: Ib ll see it.
Karena: No, Ib m only showing Gustavo. And I will buy you a cow. And then Ib m-a take you in a airplane.
Gustavo: Ugh! Leave me alone!
Karena: Gustavo, I brought you an apple. Here, open up you mouth.
Gustavo: What? No! Who feeds somebody an apple? Mr. Vaudrey, why are you laughing?
Karena: Come on, mi chiquito amor porcinob &
Gustavo: You just called me a pig!
Karena: b & Are you sure you donb t want your apple?
Gustavo: NO!
Karena: Ah! Gustavo. Stop rejecting my apple. When we get married, Ib m-aB divorce you.
Gustavo: Mr. Vaudrey! Shouldnb t you be stopping this?
Vaudrey: Gus, you should be flattered! Winning the affections of an older woman.
Gustavo: Sheb s not even that oldb &er!
Vaudrey: Sheb s a senior.
Gustavo: Ib m a junior!
Karena: Thatb s okay, I like leetleB kids.
This was a typical class period. Interspersing math with loud public advances on the shy boy (who smiled the whole time).
After Winter Break, Karena and the other seniors begin the trudge toward graduation, which increased in pace until Frantic May and Emotional June. In February, however, life was pretty good in Mr. Vaudrey’s 4th period.
We had just wrapped up periodic functionsB and were packing up to file out to lunch when I realized that Karena had been strangely quiet today and appeared to be staring hard at her notebook instead of packing up.
Once the class had emptied, I sat across from her. “Karena, what’s going on?”
She immediately burst into tears.
“Mr. Baudrey,” she wept. “I’m sorry I didn’t finish my homework last night. I had to work late at the store and I fell asleep behind the counter. These are the same clothes I wore yesterday, I just come right to school this morning with no shower. And my parents had to take my college money to pay bills.”
We sat in silence. Karena sniffled and dropped tears onto her immaculately-highlighted notebook, and I was stunned.
“What am I gonna do?” she asked, and looked at me.
I paused for a moment.B What is sheB gonna do?
I have no idea.B
Twenty-five years earlier, I was born the oldest of five children of a doctor. We had a big house and I could attend any college I wanted. We qualified for student loans and a large inheritance paid off most of my debt before I even graduated.
Karena worked late into the night andB did her makeup in the bathroom this morning. If she goes to college, she’ll likely work full-time and be saddled with a pile of debt when she’s done.
That is the main reasonB we should raise the minimum wage to $15 an hour.
Karena’s parents are undocumented immigrants.2 They work very hard to provide a better life for Karena and her four brothers.
My wife and I are both educators with Master’s degrees, two paid-off cars, and a home with a pool. Neither of us have jobs were we have to work “hard”, and we’re still in the top quarterB of the wealthiest in the nation.
The minimum-wage earners can fight for themselves (and many are), but they need the support of the rest of us, too, if the higher-ups are to pay attention.
Currently, businesses like McDonald’s have little incentive to raise the minimum wage. While smaller companies can cut a bit from the top and spread it evenly along the bottom, McDonald’s pay increase would cost them quite a bit of money.B They’ll continue to keep things the way they are, exploiting immigrants and the poor to build a profit.
Does that make you uncomfortable? It makes me uncomfortable.
I didn’t know how to help Karena. Five years ago, I gave her a tissue and a granola bar, and I haven’t seen her since graduation.
1. Not her real name.b) 2. She encouraged me to use this term instead of “illegal” immigrants. “A person can’t be illegal, Mr. Vaudrey.” .b)
P.S. Instead of taking time to type up a comment rebuking any of my claims, take that time and talk to somebody in your houseB about our responsibility to people less fortunate than us.
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? 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.
[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 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.
There are four things happening aboveB that furrow one’s brow:
Keynote Address
Discussion-based sessions
Tool-based Sessions
EdCamp Sessions
Conference attendees find value in each of these things individually, and rather than build a conference around keynotes and tool-based sessionsB (such a conference would surely entertain, but not challenge), the PLURT conference seeks to have enough of all four categoriesB to sate all comers.
Also, the PLURT conferenceB won’t have these things:
Free tote bags with the PLURT logo – That money goes toward the breakfast, which is satisfying for longer than a swag bag.
Awards – approximately 60B people cheered for Diane Main at CUE15, and she damn near walks on water. The remaining 5000 weren’t inspired to follow her on Twitter or read her blog (both of which, you should go do right now).
Board recognition/nominations – PLURT board is run likeB jury duty, but optional; twice a year letters go out, and you can decline to serve if you so desire.
Regional meetings – Instead, expand your mind and chat with somebody from Canada. That’s how I got fantastic ideas for my dream school from Kyle Pearce.
Gear Raffle – “This new document camera goes to someoneB nominated during the week, who is new to the profession and in need of new equipment.”
Door monitors – You wanna leave? Leave. You wanna sit in an empty room and brainstorm with new colleagues? Mazel tov, go for it.
Grumpies – because after sitting in traffic and arriving late, you deserve a free coffee and a yogurt.
Let’s learn together.
~Matt “#PLURT16” Vaudrey
1. Yes, a keynote address. I haven’t yet decided what the purpose of a keynote is globally, but my survey so far seems to agree that “Inspire” is high on the list of what Keynotes should do, so we can open the PLURT conference with one.b) 2. …and the surviving cast of Star Wars re-enacts the Battle of Yavin on a scale model built out of legos while feeding me stuffed-crust pizza. Then we all go for a swim in a pool full of the tears of Stop Common Core supporters.b)
