I’ve written before about how teenagers can be stupid. This post addresses how I combat stupidity with procedure.
Let me address a comment:
My goal is a self-starting classroom. It varies year to year, but it’s pretty consistently what you see below (the black portions remain unchanged day to day, and I write today’s agenda between the squiggly lines.):
Now let me be clear about two things:
Most of those first items are happening at the same time.
It took many weeks of training to get this to run smoothly without me. My special class still requires much prompting.
I have trained my students (through mind-numbing repetition) to pick up whatever papers are on the table by the door as soon as they enter. If there’s no table there, then they pick up nothing.
Then they sit down–papers in hand–and instructions for those papers are on the board.
After the notebook item is folded and glued, the student writes the assignment in her planner. Once the planner is completed, the student moves it to the side of her desk and begins the warm-up.
NOTE: Three key things are happening in the midst of all this:
Each day, I write the names of three random students on the board (pic below). Once they enter class, theyb without my promptingb discuss with each other who will present each problem, get a small whiteboard, and prepare to explain it to the class.
An eight-minute timer is running. Once the timer hits 0:00, it kills the “walk-in-and-get-started” music and plays a siren. That app can be found here for free or here without ads. The student that presents problem #1 stops the siren and begins.
A student patrols the class with a date stamp and my clipboard. This student date-stamps each planner (once the assignment is written down1) and stamps the assignment that is due today (recording the score on my clipboard).
After the timer hits 0:00, here’s what happens:
Student #1 walks to the front of class, stops the timer, and says, “I have #1. First, subtract _____, then divide ____, then _____. The answer is _____. Any questions?”
Class waits for questions, thinking silently, “One-Mississippi, Two-Mississippi, Three-Mississippi” then applauds for #1, who erases the board and returns to his/her seat
Student #2 stands and presents theirs in the same way.
After clapping for number two2, presenter #3 stands and teaches the class #3.
After the Warm-up, students take guesses at the Jeopardy question of the day.
Also, you can see the breakdown of the class roles for the day.
There’s no pedagogical reason for this. It’s just fun. It only takes 15-30 seconds and is totally worth it. I’m an adult, and still interested in learning fun, useless stuff.
Next comes Good Things; I play a 45-second clip of this song and students chat with each other about “Good Things” going on in their lives. When the song ends, I pick three students to share a “good thing” with the class. Then we clap, because life is good.
As the clapping dies down, I cue the “Take out today’s assignment” song and switch to the document camera. I show the answers and ask for questions, every day reminding the students, “If you copy, copy on a separate page so you can try the problems later to see if you were correct.”
Then I read aloud the goal of the day and advance slides to the Daily Doozyb a college-level problem on the today’s topic. More on that here.
While the Doozy still echoes in their heads, I prompt the next thing that we’re doing3, and our class starts. From start to finish, our pre-lesson routine runs between 15-20 minutes. (…though I should mention that it takes about a half-hour during the first week of school.)
Not only does the routine give me time to fine-tune anything for the day, but it provides a consistent routine and alternate voice of authorityB for the students.
I cannot emphasize enough how important this is: I’m not the one directing them to begin.
Instead of, “Mark, please sit down and take out your planner.” I can say, “Anna, what is everyone else doing right now?”
Or even better, “Damien, the song’s over.”
All of which let the class weed out and re-direct the black sheep.
In closing, I didn’t do all of this at once. I started with one or two things in August, then every few days added a song or another item.
Questions? For quickest response, ask on Twitter or via email.
1 The date stamp is mostly for the parents. The parent says, “He doesn’t write down the homework.” And I say, “Bull Pucky. Here’s a stamp with the date. You just weren’t checking it.” 2 Much like my wife and I will do, when we potty-train our baby. 3 This could be notes, Algebra Tiles, a short video, whatever. By this point in the class, whatever garbage happened during lunch or the passing period has faded to the back of their minds.
Today, my iPad class all got trained in DropBox, the online file-sharing service.
One student got a tough lesson.
Embarrassing, like the time I asked Mitt if his full name was Mittens.
All students downloaded the app and signed in with the same email and password. If you’re interested, click here to see how and why.
During the installation process, I specifically said, “Click LOGIN, then wait and do nothing.”
One student clicked ALLOW AUTO UPLOAD and a few dozen of her picturesB uploaded to the class folder. A nicer teacher would have quickly deleted them.
Guess who didn’t?
The whole class could see my iPad mirrored on the screen as I scrolled through OneDirection, Justin Bieber and a few of her self-portraits with duckface.
The student was, of course, mortified as I showed how easy it is to save a picture of Bruno Mars and use it as my background.
I’m an educator. Today, I taught about online privacy.
(Credit to my brother for the Romney joke. It made the debates adorable.)
Given that I recently sent a link to this website to my administrators and other higher-ups, the following post may be unwise.
… but if you’ve read anything else I’ve written, you know that I will take that risk every time, even if falling on my face is likely.
I had to choose between this quote or one from the football coach’s office.
In a recent reading, a fellow Twittee and digital colleague lamented that her students appeared to be seeking her help at home, instead of consulting the myriad of resources on the internet, in the study guide, or in the damn book.
In reading that, I (and, I’m sure, many other educators) chuckle, saying to ourselves:
Every year these children get dumber. Why, I had a student once that asked me if we were having a fire drill while the alarm was going off! He works in politics now.
Then, ShaunaB finished the writing with:
Advice/Criticism is welcome.
On the internet? That’s brave of you.
Dear Shauna,
A piece of this frustrating puzzle that you didn’t mention is the adolescence of our students. Try as we may, we can’t make that puny frontal lobe develop any quicker, so every year, we will have stupefied students sputter, “Wait, we have a test today?”
And every year, we must grind our molars and say, “Yes. Check your planner, we wrote it in there last week.”
We can all relate to your sentiment:
Really, kid? You’re an honors student who can’t use the index in the book? Or the syllabus from August that has the outline w/ chapter references? Or the wiki which has it sectioned off for you? Or the handouts I made that said “CHI-SQUARED (CH 26)” at the top?
I know it helps my mood some to list the litany of things that we have done to prepare the student to tackle this problem without our help. But alas, Adolescents are, by their very nature,
stupid.
Exhibit A
I don’t teach at your school, but I bet that your students ALSO spend their lunch money on Gatorade and Hot Chee-tos.
They also know the names of each member of OneDirection, but don’t know their zip code.
They think that the capital of Montana is Hannah. Every period.
Some of mine even think that Katy Perry was the first American woman in space.
I majored in Youth Ministry and Adolescent Development in college, so it’s probably easier for me to smile when I hear dumb adolescent junk like that. But even I get tired of, “Wait, we had homework last night?”
or my favorite: “What are we doing?”
Which is asked immediately after I explain the instructions and say, “go”.
Huh…Ba…*sigh* Ask your neighbor.
When we decided to teach teenagers, we agreed to daily wield a double-edged sword: we teach teenagers who have baby-sized, undeveloped brains and grown-up looking bodies. They look like they are adults, but they’re not. Every year, they will be stupid and every year, we have to make them a little smarter.
And only some of that is the math.
So be encouraged–Shauna, parents, and teachers–they were stupid when you got them and they will be slightly less stupid after they leave.
Grinding teeth and rubbing temples along with you,
~Matt Vaudrey
P.S. If you are a student and stumbled on this website, don’t read the previous several paragraphs.
In one of my favorite TV shows, Dr. Gaius Baltar is called in to help with questioning a prisoner. He says, “You’ve tried the stick; it’s time to try the carrot.”
That was me two months ago.
But, you know… without the creepy smirk.
Not just sick of detentions, tardies, phone calls, and discipline, I was sick of the time and energy I was giving to the students who earned it the least.
Outside the frame, 29 obedient students are NOT getting the teacher’s attention.
It took my wife to point it out. The conversation went like this:
Vaudrey: I have six students that are consistent behavior problems. If each one gets a warning, a conference outside, and a detention, that’s 18 things.
Hot Wife: Why just send them out right away?
Vaudrey: Well, that’s not fair to those kids. I have to go through my steps.
Hot Wife: Well, it’s not exactly fair to the rest of your students that their education is interrupted by distractors. Also, those rotten kids are getting all of your attention.
Truth Bomb.
So I went to observe another teacher in the district who has SDC students for math support all day. These are students who ALL struggle with math, and a myriad of behavior issues come with it.
She awards her students with poker chips when they are on task.
Let’s just stop there–that’s the change that I made.
Yes, I know that Alfie Kohn wouldn’t be a big fan of a rewards-based system for discipline. Sorry, Alfie–this worked.
Also, not a mathematician.
A roll of tickets is cheaper for me than poker chips, so I went with that. I prepped each class on how the tickets would be awarded and jumped in.
The bell rings, I do a round of tickets for those already on the warm-up.
I play the Notes Song, I do a round of tickets right when it ends to students already noting.
During classwork, I do a round of tickets to those focused.
I started noticing signs of on-task-ness that I hadn’t before: A pencil in hand is the best example.
Fast forward four weeks to today, a minimum day before winter break. Auction Day.
Like this, but with less Levis.
I printed a list of auction items, brought in a cowboy hat (don’t all auctioneers wear those?), and displayed the items attractively on the wall.
I laid down a fairness rule: One item per student.
Then we went to town. This was the highlight:
Ryan (yes, that Ryan) proclaiming, “I’m finna git that Gatorade!” Then, after a student bid four tickets, Ryan screamed, “Thirty-nine!” Then he drank the entire 32 ounces in about 3 minutes. Pointing to his distended stomach, he boasts, “Look! I’m all pregnant!”
Improvements for the next Auction (which will probably be in six weeks):
Use Poker Chips instead.
Which means: Buy individual student bags and one bin per period for those bags to be stored.
Assign a Banker to collect and pass out the bags at the beginning and end of class.
Multiple auction items per student? Maybe.
No poker chips changing hands during the auction. Savvy students who wanted two items gave their tickets to another student and said, “Get those glowsticks for me!”
Kick out students that disrupt. I wanted so badly for this to be fun for everyone that I just spoke louder and louder. I know–I realize how silly it is. But it’s the day before winter break; they were probably going to be difficult anyway.
Some kind of activity to keep those busy who already bought an item. (See previous bullet)
In case anyone is interested, here are the coupons I used.
I added that last line to the slide because I had 4 or 5 students who finished the Daily Doozy and proclaim, “That wasB easy!” I reminded them that it probably isn’t easy forB allB the students. Instead, they can proclaim, “My, what an appropriate challenge!”
I do declare!
UPDATE 17 April 2013: Per Dan’s request, hereB are a few more.
As any math teacher will tell you, there are very few “normal” days, so I’ll just pick a day. I rolled a die and came up with a five, so Ib ll write about last Friday.
6:08 AM Alarm goes off. It beeps exactly once before my wife elbows me and hisses, b get it!b . Our eight-week-old baby just finished feeding at 5:30, and my dear little wife is not about to sacrifice a sleeping baby so a husband can snooze.
One of these things is cute, and one needs to get the hell out of bed.
6:45 AM Ib m fed, dressed, and packed. My wife packed my lunch the night before (and she has packed 98% of my lunches to date. Sorry, fellas; I got the best wife.), so I grab it from the fridge, kiss my two girls on their sleeping heads, and Ib m off.
7:12 AM My drive to work is 36 minutes door-to-door, so I have time to listen to NPR, Sigur RE
s, or stand-up comedy (which I usually save for the drive home).
7:30 AM Itb s the Friday before Thanksgiving. I graded all of yesterdayb s tests, and the only two items on our class agenda are Notebook Check and Test Corrections. I take the rubrics off my printer and head down to P-13 to borrow the paper-trimmer from Hodge.
NON-TEACHER NOTE: Students wonb t see my class for nine days. If I assign homework, it wonb t get done. So I have to pick something that can be started in class, completed over the break if the students are really motivated, and optional. Enter the Test Corrections.
If my life were a movie, it would be called “Enter the Test Corrections”.
7:52 AM With 20 minutes before students arrive, I organize my desk. If my desk is unorganized, I feel like my life is unorganized. I stack papers, file them, and start a Break To-Do List. It quickly grows to 12 items.
8:01 AM I have a small guitar amp and an iPod connector. On test days, the day before break, or other exciting days, I play tunes outside my portable. Because the math teachers are all in a row, I play Eye of the Tiger or The Final Countdown on days that we test. It helps take the edge off and, frankly, itb s frigginb fun to dance and rap wearing my test day shirt.
8:10 AM The bell rings and I step outside to shake the hands of students as Flobotsb b Handlebarsb bumps through 15 watts as bleary-eyed students amble toward the gray doors of our classrooms. My phone rings and four 8th graders yell anxiously, b Can I get it?b I nod to the closest one and keep shaking hands and rapping.
Look at me, look at me;
just called to say that itb s good to be
alive in such a small world.
All curled up with a book to read.
I ask the phone student to have Mr. Garrett call back later. Maybe he wants to borrow the video camera again.
I can show you how to do-si-do,
I can show you how to scratch a record.
I can take apart a remote control,
and I can almost put it back together.
8:20 AM The announcements are over and I turn my b Fill out your planner and start the warm-upb music back on. Consistent procedures breed good behavior, and the first 20 minutes of my class are the same every day.
I announce as they work, b Get moving, we have the 7th graders coming today.b The class moans.
I stand up straight with a huge smile. b Letb s try that again, but with a positive attitude: The seventh graders are coming today!b About twelve students cheer and the rest grumble quietly. My class culture is happy, you unenthusiastic turds. Get used to it.
8:23 AM The timer beeps and students begin presenting the warm-up to the class. My computer is still updating.
8:26 AM Time for b Good Thingsb , where students share b good thingsb that are going on in their lives. Any good thing will do, but eventually, everyone must share something. In the interest of time (hat tip to Tim Bedley) , I have them share good things with each other first, then pick three names to share with the class.
8:27 AM We finish Good Things just as Jennab s class walks up my ramp. Her 7th grade GATE class has been working with my 8th grade iPad Algebra class to team up on the Stock Market Game.
b Wow, Netflix stock seems to be doing well. What else is a business that is on the rise right now?b
b Ouch, McDonaldb s is down a whole dollar from last week. Do you want to trade for something else?b
b Who else wants a hint? (a few hands wave) Okay, what big products are being released this week? How might those companiesb stocks reflect that?b
A few students blurt out, b Twilight!b or b Black Ops II!b before their group shushes them. It is a nationwide contest, after all. One of my groups is ranked 18 out of 50,000.
“You invested in Blockbuster? Their market share has been in decline for six consecutive quarters!”
9:07 AM After the 7th graders leave, and we move on to Notebook Check. Itb s the usual b swap with a partnerb and b make sure you grade fairlyb , except I gave them a rubric so they canb t mess it up. The rest of the period is spent on test corrections.
9:43 AM Bell rings and I bid them a 9-day farewell. Then I pump up the jams and get ready for period 2.
10:30 AM The next period goes way smoother. It turns out that 90 minutes is plenty of time to run through our usual classroom routine and still do two other things.
10:40 AM In the downtime between passing in the notebook checks and passing out tests, one student stands up behind me. Troy is usually running his mouth, and most often about nothing. Here are a few gems:
Mr. Vaudrey, being a Siamese twin would be great. You could punch somebody coming at you from the side.
Mr. Vaudrey, I had a game this weekend. The coach said that I could play for the high school if I get my grades up.
Mr. Vaudrey, rainbow monkeys are like bootleg CareBears.
This time, however, heb s sticking out his chest and walking towards Lars, who is sitting. Troy is clearly upset, spouting aggressive (but not foul) nonsense:
b You think you so bad, talking crap about me? You think I canb t hear you? I know what you said! You got a problem with me? Do something, then!b
I know that Troy wonb t actually fight Lars, so I calmly direct Troy outside. I have a volunteer collect the rubrics while I ask Lars what happened. He admits that he asked Troy to quit talking so much and Troy got upset.
One of the things I love about my job is helping adolescents see how their actions define them and helping them see their actions through the eyes of other students. When it works, itb s awesome.
Vaudrey: Well, then why isnb t Lars outside, too, if he was saying those things?
Troy: Ohhb & cuz he didnb t stand up and get aggressive.
Truth Bomb.
11:23 AM The class ends and I have lunch. I pass the time planning my week off and add more items to my To-Do list. It grows to 20 items.
12:03 PM Algebra Concepts. Ib ve written about this class before: about the behavior issues, the challenges, and the draining effect it has on me. I have 90 minutes of semi-structured class time, so if this is to go well, I need to be all business and crack down early. So I do.
12:20 PM This is going pretty well! Ericab the RSP teacherb points out that: next time, we should just have them grade their own notebooks instead of swapping with someone across the class.
I donb t care that much. If they cheat, BFD. They stole one percentage point on their grade.
1:09 PM They finished the notebook check and going over the answers to the test. Here are some highlights from the period so far:
Andrew continues to have impulse control and is on the verge of pissing off Ryan so much that heb ll throw a punch. I have Andrew pull a desk outside.
James (much like Lars) knows that he can say quiet things to antagonize Sandra until she gets loud. I have the exact same conversation with Sandra outside that I had with Troy earlier that day, with one difference:
Vaudrey: Why are you outside, but James isnb t?
Sandra: Cuz he be saying stuff about me and Ib m not just gonna sit there and take it.
Vaudrey: I believe you, but why are you outside and heb s not? Am I picking on you?
Sandra: No.
Vaudrey: Am I racist?
Sandra: No.
Vaudrey: Then what is it?
Mia and Sandra want to work on their project together, so I let Sandra change seats to be closer to Mia. Val, a boy sitting nearby, isnb t happy about it.
Sandra: Can I work with Mia? Web re partners on this project.
Vaudrey: Yes, go ahead.
Val: Aw, man. Do I have to stay here? Now, I have to listen to BOTH of b em.
Vaudrey: Turn around so you donb t have to see them.
Sandra: I know he not talkinb to me like that.
Mia: If he say somethinb to me, Ib m finna slap him. Thatb s just how it is.
Vaudrey: Thatb s not okay, but itb s your choice.
1:20 PM Andrew has been working outside for about ten minutes when he pops his head in and cries, b Mr. Vaudrey! Thereb s some graffiti out here! It wasn’t me!b
I stroll outside, re-direct Andrew to sit, and follow his finger, b Look!b . On nameplate for my class it says, P-08 Wheelchair Accessible. Below that, in pencil, somebody wrote, fuck you mr vaudrey along with an arrow pointing to my name that says bitch!.
b It wasnb t me, I swear!b Andrew looks terrified, so I assure him that I recognize his innocence. I return inside to ponder and I mention to Erica what I just noticed.
b Really?!b Her eyes get wide, partly because she didnb t think I would quote it while standing near students. I have no qualms about repeating their foul words in class, partly because I like how silly they sound when I repeat exactly what they say. b Do you know who it was?b she asks.
b Meh. I have a theory (Sandra is the only one whob s been outside for discipline this period), but it doesnb t matter. Itb s more that Ib m sad for them; that they have such anger in their heart.b
I say this loud enough for several students nearby to hear. One of them is Ryan. Remember him? The one who screamed, b I hate you!b a month ago? He was sitting nearby for my exchange with Erica.
Ryan stood up and walked directly outside. Andrew was very quick to volunteer his authority on the issue. b See, Ryan? Itb s right there. I didnb t write it, though. I just found it.b
Ryan, without a word, begins furiously erasing.
b Ryan,b I say gently. b You donb t have to do that.b He continues erasing until the words are gone, then until the smudges are gone, then until my nameplate is good as new.
b Thank you, Ryan.b I say softly. Without a word, he returns to his seat with Erica just as the clean-up song plays over my sound system. The class runs through the 11-times-table and the bell rings.
1:54 PM I call a studentsb mom to see when she will come retrieve his iPad (which was confiscated as he played games in class). Turns out, sheb s coming for a conference.
2:40 PM Conferences for middle-school boys are pretty similar. They go in this order:
Explain in detail each assignment the boy hasnb t done.
Explain in detail an example of his bad behavior.
Pause for the parent to explain how important it is for the boy to do well in school
Make a plan of action with some consequence.
3:10 PM I excuse myself to go unlock the iPad cart for students after PE. As I leave, the team begins to discuss the idea of this studentb s removal from the iPad class if he canb t pull his grades up.
3:18 PM All the iPads are gone and students are fleeing the campus for the Thanksgiving break.
4:10 PM I arrive home to a squirming baby and a wife who is happy to hand her off for a few minutes. We forage from the fridge, and bounce the baby. After watching three episodes of Boy Meets World and talking about our respective days, we put the baby down for the night.
7:47 PM The wife and I play Tetris. Itb s been five years of marriage and 8 years of dating, and we still play Tetris together. The main difference is that now we have to whisper trash talk so we wonb t wake the baby.
I first met Kelli during the first month of my first year teaching.
Well, I donb t actually recall the day that I met her. My first two weeks of teaching were such a whirlwind–the details meld together into a trauma of botched activities, stuttering lessons, clunky worksheets, and the occasional discipline issue (which soon became frequent discipline issues).
I do, however, remember when I first saw Kellib s fifth period. My Assistant Principalb after watching the vehicular collision that was my fifth periodb said, b You have to watch Kelli teach.b
The next day during my planning period, I followed A.P. into the back of Kellib s class with my notebook, completely clueless for what I would write down.
I wish I had videotaped itb it was pure poetry. Like watching Olympic figure skating.
First, the students filed in with subdued murmurs and sat down quietly. I had seen these students during lunchb they were not quiet people. Kelli taught Algebra Readiness, an 8th grade class for students who didnb t pass Pre-Algebra last year. A rough-and-rowdy bunch of surly teens with odors and attitudes sour enough to curdle the milk in your grammab s teacup. It wasnb t even my class, and I got nervous.
“Miss Webb, I don’t got a pencil.”
b Please take out your packet and turn to S.P. 15.b Kelli calmly intoned over the rustle of paper. The bell had just sounded and all her students were in their seats, most with their pencils out. I looked around the room and thought I was dreaming:
Her 18 students were evenly spread throughout the room, most of them alone at a table.
All the hats were off.
Nobody touched each other.
No backpacks or purses were in laps, all rested on the floor or the chair next to them.
Most of the students had their packets out and were hunched over them, silently working.
Kelli began to weave through the rows, giving little comments.
b Thank you for getting started, Jamal.b
b Good start, Maria. Put your mirror away, please.b
And this was when I knew I was in the presence of greatness:
b Miguel, please spit out your gum.b
Miguel curled his lip, b I donb t have any gum.b
b Let me tell you what I donb t do.b Kelli bristled, straightening to her full six-foot-two and narrowing her eyes. b I donb t argue with children. Spit it out.b
I’m surprised Miguel didn’t piss himself. I got chills just writing that.
Miguel paused, considering his chances of winning a battle with a woman twice his size and thrice his age. He wisely stood and leaned over the trashcan as Kelli moved on to other tables. The thunk of his gum in the metal wastebasket was the only noise in room A5, save for the delicate scratch of pencil on paper.
After about five minutes, Kelli produced some more magic. She went through the worksheet with the class.
Now, any teacher can walk through problems, but nobody in Ms. Webbb s class got bored. She pulled names from a cup of popsicle sticks (what teachers called b random samplingb in those days) and asked students for their responses.
Ms. Webb: Ysela, number 5.
Ysela: Ummb & I didnb t get it.
Ms. Webb: Okay, what do you think we should do first?
Ysela: Ummb &. Take away seven?
Ms. Webb: (grimaces) Ooh! Is there a mathematical way to say that?
Ysela: Ummb &Subtract seven from both sides of the equation.
Ms Webb: Oh, much better. I like that. Damon, take over number 5.
It was magical. She coaxed answers from students who hate math (or so they tell their friends). These students have made a career out of coasting and doing nothing, but they have nowhere to hide from the watchful eye of Ms. Webb.
And risk.
No… not that one.
Non-teachers may not realize this, but Ysela was hoping to be ignored, skipped, and left at peace. Getting students like Ysela to take a stab at a foreign problem is hard work. By eighth grade, she’s learned that the three magic words “I don’t know” will get her skipped in most other classes, and enough skips will get her ignored entirely.
In Ms. Webbb s class, there was no ignored seat, no back of the class, no hats pulled down, and no students get to pass on a problem. If you donb t know, take a guess.
Itb s one of several things that Ib ve stolen for my own class.
CMC Attenders: For Attachments, click the link next to “HOME”
Hello, fellow teachers, administrators, and people on a Google Image search for “Barbie” (who account for about 400 hits per day).
My colleague–Gabrielle Mejia–and I are presenting at the California Mathematics Council on Student Motivation. The Mullet Ratio lesson, which feels like it happened years ago, would have been a good session as well. But since all the materials are already posted for free online, it felt like milking a gimmick.
And frankly, I hope that my class has more than one good thing happening in it.
Mullets and Apple TV and Snowboards, oh my!
I have attended CMC faithfully during my teacher career and, in addition to several pocketfuls of free pens, there are a lot of good things happening in Palm Springs.
We present on Saturday in Smoke Tree C at 3:15.B Regrettably,B this is the same time slot as Dan Meyer; a digital colleague of mine who puts on a great presentation every time.
UPDATE 3 November 2012:
That was easier than I thought it would be. I had presented before as part of a panel, and I was worried that I’d put my foot in my mouth in front of peers.
At some point during CMC every year, I feel like the freshman that got invited to the varsity party. Everybody is older and more established than me, and yet my session was attended by teachers many years my senior that appeared to value my input. Cool.
I would definitely do that again, though I’ll be sure to wear a mic next time.
When I was six, I had a birthday party at Lincoln Heights Pizza Parlor. Four friends and I spent the afternoon whacking moles, earning tickets, spending tokens, eating pizza, and finding diapers in the ball pit.
Documenting the day are several grainy, indoor photos characteristic of the late 80s. My friends and I are smiling and happy in every shot in our striped shirts and shaggy haircuts.
“Michael’s cheating! Daaaaaad!”
A few years later, I had a surprise 16th birthday, put on by my girlfriend in conjunction with my sisters and youth pastor. Every photo is happy (that is, nobody is crying), but some photos are without smiles as people chat or eat cake.
Yesterday, we celebrated my birthday by carving pumpkins with a few friends. My wife and baby and I hung out with our guests on the couch and we spent a long time discussing the Pacific Northwest. We printed out stencils for our pumpkins and put on some relaxing autumn music and had a great afternoon.
Yes, that is Boba Fett and a high-speed drill.
This leads me to my thesis, ready?
If you’re reading this, your best birthdays are behind you.
As you can see, the fun increases as a child, then is inconsistent during teenage years (as is everything) before a brief spike at 21 and a rapid decline until death. Some people get a small jump in fun at 50, unless you have heart problems, in which case it’s about the same.
My birthday was yesterday, and today I had to leave work early because I had a back spasm.
I got a back spasm for my birthday.
Mother Nature gave me the gift of awareness; my vitality is weakening every year, and I’m one year closer to the grave.
Dear Matt, you become a worse athlete every year. Love, Gaia
Without revealing too much, my birthday ranked less than 30 on the scale above, which is a great score for my age bracket. I had a great day with friends, carved pumpkins, spent time outside, had great food, and then went on a date with my wife. Despite all that, a birthday (for people my age) is just another Sunday between Labor Day and Thanksgiving.
Here’s the difference, though. As an adult, every other day is way more fun.
Students in middle school absolutely hate Mondays. But Saturdays? Oh, man! Saturdays are like a mini-Christmas 36 times a school year.
As an adult, I’m not a huge fan of Mondays, but they’re qualitatively no worse than Thursdays; I still have to go to work. Friday is marginally better, and the weekend is great.
Note that the beginning and end of the weekends are common for both data sets.
So, kids: you can have your birthdays. We adults quite enjoy our lives for the other 364 days of the year quite a bit as well.
Even though child birthdays clearly are way more fun than adult ones, but adult Mondays are much more fun than child ones.
I pause the Glue Song and ring the tiny bell on the cart.
“People, look over here. This pink paper is LAMIAH, that was yesterday’s homework that I forgot to pass out. Please raise your hand if you need it and Frank will pass it out. This white paper is MARSHALL. Glue MARSHALL and the Warm-up into your Math notebook, please.”
(This is the Glue Song. It’s a sound cue, telling the students that the directions on the board involve glue.)
I hand a pink stack to Frank and put the Glue Song back on. As soon as the music hits their pubescent ears, I am beset by questions.
“Mr. Vaudrey, you forgot to stamp my planner.”
“Mr. Vaudrey, do I glue them on the same page?”
“Mr. Vaudrey, can I get a drink of water? But I’m thirsty!”
“Mr. Vaudrey, can I do number one?”
“Mr. Vaudrey, my dog attacked a rabbit this morning.”
“Mr. Vaudrey, I didn’t get LAMIAH.”
“Mr. Vaudrey, did you hear that? James said he’s gonna hurt me!”
“You need Mark in the office? Thank God.”
I only have 21 students in this class, but each one has specific needs on my time, and any one of them ignored will cause a cavalcade that will corrode the rest of the period.
“Then take your planner out right away so I can see it. I don’t care how you glue them, it’s up to you. You just had lunch. Talk to Maria and Desmond to see which ones they are doing. That’s great; do the warm-up. Frank is passing it out, he’ll be here in a sec. You did the right thing by not responding to him. James, let me speak to you outside.”
It’s possible that the homeless guy in Glendora who talks to himself–seemingly sporadically–is just replaying conversations from when he used to teach middle school.
Typically, when non-teachers actually see my classroom, they exclaim, “Wow. I could never do that.” It makes me feel good; knowing that my six years of skills are beginning to take shape into a career.
But my students are just a different bunch. At least nobody masturbated at their desk today. (Some students have done that in last year’s classes).
The first part of the period is the hopeful part; the class can go either way. Either they will be motivated and hard-working…
… or he will give up, seek distractions, lament “I don’t get it!” with her head on the desk, tuck his head in his shirt and rock back and forth, tell the new girl she’s fat, tell him he can go to hell, tell her to go eat a cheeseburger, he’ll chew gum, claim it isn’t gum, and ask to go to the nurse.
All of which happened in the first 15 minutes of our lesson on Slope.
I have to remind myself (in the moment, especially) that they weren’t born this way. These students are the product of low skills, bad teachers, lazy parents, low-income community, a disinterested school culture, and Hot Cheetos con Limon. Any one of those by itself would be a challenge, and in 4th period, I have a huge cocktail.
Which, coincidentally, is what I’m craving after they leave.
Celebrate the successes and push through the challenges.
Come on, Vaudrey. These kids need learnin’ and you’re just the guy to do it.
