Mrvaudrey

Category: Tough Issues

  • Big Shifts, Little Trainings

    There’s a 100% chance that I’m paraphrasing this idea from someone, but it was a half-baked idea we discussed over lunch, and I’m expanding it here.

    <triumphant voice>

    The Biggest Challenge in Effective Professional Development

    When getting a group of Educators in the room for P.D. (Professional Development), there are three forces at play.

    1.) What the administrator or director thinks is necessary.
    2.) What the teacher thinks is necessary.
    3.) What the trainer or consultant thinks is necessary.

    In a dream sequence, the teachers and administrators both have a shared idea of the work, and they bring in an expert to help them make progress.

    three people pulling the same chain, which is attached to a weight

    Sometimes those three things are all pulling in different directions; I’ve definitely sat in trainings where I wanted practical classroom management strategies, the administrator wanted to raise math achievement, and the presenter had a litany of software tools to show me.

    three people holding chains, pulling in three different directions

    Not much progress was made.

    Robert Kaplinsky notes (and cites some research) about how Teachers don’t often get the amount of P.D. they want/need, and it’s not a stretch to suggest that neither Teachers nor Admin are aware of that research (I definitely wasn’t).

    As a classroom teacher, I was often confident that I understood best what we needed. After all, we’re the ones in the classroom with our kids all the time.

    Sometimes the teachers and administrator are united in what they want, but the presenter…

    b+ might have some new research to share,
    b+might extend the idea past what the teachers and admin were expecting,
    b+or they might be all excited about a fresh idea and completely ignore the contract they signed with the school.

    You know… hypothetically.

    two people holding a chain, pulling against a person holding the other end of the chain.

    When I’m consulting with a district or speaking at an event, I’m most often the person on the right in the image above; trying to convince a room of people that they’ll like what I’m cooking, even though it’s not what they ordered.

    a pile of pasta with peas and parmesan.
    “Yeah, I know you ordered a bacon burger, but this is better for you in the long run and you’ll be glad to got it. Trust me; we’ve just met and I don’t know anything about you.”

    Here’s an example: earlier this month, I kicked off day two of #AddItUp in St. Louis, and my keynote focused on bravery and transparency in risk-taking.

    I gave lots of research backing up my idea, concrete examples of how to encourage risk-taking, and some free takeaways so teachers could start being braver.

    And.

    I bookended the teacher-stuff with a lot of hard topics for white folks to think about.

    b+Students of color are suspended and expelled more frequently than their white peers, beginning before Kindergarten.
    b+If we aren’t brave with stuff we don’t understand, we’ll never get better, and that includes interacting with race relations.
    b+We must model bravery for students and staff, and that means failing publicly because growth is important. Watch me as I do that exact thing.

    Consensus is hard, and it’s rare to get 100% agreement, even with a school site that serves the same population of students. If we wait until everyone is ready, we’ll be too late.

    Quote from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr: "The time is always right to do what is right."

    And yeah, I lured my audience to the auditorium to discuss risk, then offered input on whiteness, a dish they didn’t order.

    It’s my hope that they will be more interested in the dish after seeing it. Maybe not today, but eventually.

    My role as a P.D. provider is to smush big-picture change (Equity, racism, special education) into accessible topics (bravery, Appetizers, Desmos). On conference applications, I don’t often mention those big-picture topics, but I sure as hell will mention them once y’all are in the room.*

    Equally important is a humility on my part; I must be open to the idea that I’m pulling hard on something that isn’t important, but I think it is.
    Gotta keep listening.

    That’d be a good sticker to put on a laptop.

    ~Matt “Keep Listening” Vaudrey

    P.S. If you have research or ideas about this kind of thing, I recommend you hop into this thread with author and education expert Ilana Horn, who has much more academic chops than I do about this (and about everything).

    *If you’re an administrator or conference-application reader, and the above post sounds like a bait-and-switch, ask yourself; how many workshops that explicitly mention the hard topics are you supporting?
    Most often, it’s zero, so that’s why I smush equity into a workshop on warm-up activities.

  • White Folk and White Spaces

    As a white person, there is a hesitance about intrusion into black spaces.

    On the podcast The Sporkful, the interviewer sits in an all-black diner and asks the owner about white people being welcome. The owner responds, “Do you have the same concerns for black people who are in all-white spaces all the time?b

    Since I spent most of my life around people who looked just like me, I feel no qualms voicing my opinions in those spaces, but I am more reticent to inject myself into mostly black spaces. This could be fear of rocking the boat, some sense of sacredness, or wanting to keep a respectful distance, and is likely some combination of all three.

    Much has been said this week about the white privilege article from a white basketball player. If you haven’t yet read this article, go do that, then come back.

    Done? Okay, cool.

    Now this quote:

    Itbs not enough to say bI donbt think about race.b  Because in a community, how one member is doing affects the whole.  And for those of us not in the dominant racial group, we donbt have the luxury of saying bI donbt think about raceb because racial issues affect us on a daily basis.  So let me encourage all of us to try having these conversations, to be quick to listen, slow to speak, and quick to forgive each other when we say something stupid.  Thatbll happen if you start to have conversations, and we just have to have grace for each other if we make mistakesbitbs better than not talking. 

    ~Francis Su, Mathematics for Human Flourishing

    Still here? Okay.

    Last week at NCTM, I spoke to a group about building Bravery in teachers and students. In an attempt to model bravery, two things are happening:

    1.) I will continue to invite white folk to discuss hard issues in mostly white spaces. We (white folks) are more likely to engage with a hard topic if we donbt have to couch our language; my goal here is long-term change, not policing or shame, so I’m willing to sacrifice a bit for people coming up the Equity trail behind me.

    2. The other goal is to continue improving myself, modeling vulnerability and humility around things I donbt understand, and paying close attention to those up in front of me on the the Equity trail, stumbling as I go.

    This means getting involved in the Twitter chat tonight, even though I might say something unintentionally ignorant. Ibm prepared to be brave around things I donbt fully understand in hopes I can improve.

    One of the most obvious ways I can improve is tied to my musings above; I feel more comfortable joining a Twitter chat led by a white person than the wildly successful #ClearTheAir chat earlier this year, led by people of color.

    I’m weak, but getting stronger. But I’m going to engage in this chat anyway instead of shaming myself out of it.

    And if my kids take my time, I’ll get on it later tonight or tomorrow.

    ~Matt “Weak, but Getting Stronger” Vaudrey

  • Equity Goofus

    Therebs a scene in the movie The Sandlot where the main character finally plucked up the courage to get into the game. He borrows a glove and walks to the outfield, muttering to himself, “Don’t be a goofus. Don’t be a goofus.“

    Once the game begins, it becomes very clear he has no idea what hebs doing. As a boy between the ages of eight and 15, he should know more about baseball by now.

    But he doesnbt.

    image: Alamo Drafthouse Cinema

    The other players are initially shocked at his incompetence, but they forgive it and teach him, until he is as capable playing the game as they are. With some practice, he grew more comfortable and more capable in a context where failure was expected and corrected.

    image: smithsverdict.com

    Last week, I sent a thread of tweets into the Internet while muttering to myself, “Donbt be a goofus.” Since I’d rather be a clumsy advocate than a silent one,1 I chose to engage even though I was unsure of how to do it.

    The following day, I read the chapter in Dr. BrenC) Brownbs book about oversharing and using vulnerability as a crutch to gain sympathy.

    Oops. There’s a good chance I was doing that.

    Anyway, Marian Dingle immediately reached out via direct message on Twitter with equal parts encouragement, questions, and correction. We sent several hundred words back and forth before she finally said, “How about we just talk on the phone?”

    It’s worth noting here that Marian didn’t owe me anything; she extended her hand to offer support unprompted support, and she persisted to address any and all questions I had. It must be exhausting for people of color to constantly do that, and I so appreciate it. Give that woman a medal.

    She helped me wrangle some clarity on three big issues, all of which are lifelong journeys and could be full blog-posts in themselves.

    1. As a white person, I have the luxury of not dealing with issues of race on a day-to-day basis. It doesnbt define the safety of my children or me, so I can go days or weeks without even thinking about the inherent white supremacy of school systems.

    The main character in Sandlot wasn’t aware that he was missing out on something important until the neighbor pulled him out onto the field. I’m incredibly thankful for the people of color in my orbit who are pulling me onto the field, knowing that I’m pretty inexperienced.

    image: Hollywood Reporter

    2. The reflection happening in private direct messages or in isolated Twitter discussions is fine for white people, but it leaves people of color out of the healing process. Also, white folk tend to center themselves in the discussion (like I’m doing right now on my website, more on that later).

    Marian used a great illustration to describe this:

    Imagine we’re in a crowd of people and some are stepping on other’s feet. Eventually, they cry out, “Quit stepping on my feet! It hurts!” The foot-steppers could respond in a variety of ways that don’t actually address the hurt they’ve caused:

    What? I didn’t notice I was doing that. I’m not the kind of person who would step on feet. If you don’t like it, move your foot. The real villain is the people who designed such a narrow hallway! That’s why feet are getting stepped-on!

    The best response is, “I’m sorry. I’ll do better,” and address the hurt you’ve caused by stepping on feet.

    image: 20th Century Fox

    Twitter is great for this; BIPOC Educators are being very honest about how white folks can step up. Give these a read.

    I have no good reason why I haven’t been engaging in #ClearTheAir chat on Twitter, where my peers are addressing hard topics publicly. I’ve been telling myself that I don’t have time, but in reality, I just didn’t want to figure out how to jump in.

    Yeah. It feels just like that looks.
    image: popsugar

    3. The challenge for me is a white person is to de-center myself while “doing the work” (the work of addressing injustice, both personally and systemically) and being public about it. Holding those two values at the same time is tough.

    Too public, and I risk appearing performative.
    Not public enough, and I risk appearing complicit, like I have no issue with things-as-they-are.

    In my case, Marian pointed out in our phone call that I appear to care a lot about how I am perceived online and off. She’s right; I’m entering a season of interviewing for Admin jobs and there’s a 100% chance that the interview panel will find my blog or Twitter feed.

    So far, I have been airing on the side of quiet and inviting. My goal is not to showcase my woke-ness so people of color will award me the badge of bGood White Person.”

    My goal is to talk about equity in a way that encourages further conversation face-to-face.

    I own a Black Lives Matter T-shirt, but I wonbt wear it to a job interview. Kicking in the door and forcing a difficult conversation will likely make things worse in any sensitive discussion.

    So for now, I’m speaking calmly about systemic oppression of BIPOC and unfair policing and inequitable discipline practices and ways to improve capital-e-Education for all students, because all of those are important to me. Once people are listening, then we can begin doing the hard work of changing hearts and minds, both in my fellow white people and in myself.

    If you’re reading this, you’re welcome to join me on the field. I’ll go first, even though I have no idea what I’m doing.

    Above: Happy children tearing down systemic racism in school systems
    image: imdb

    ~Matt “Awakening and Talking About It” Vaudrey

    UPDATE 28 March 2019: The day after this posted, Ijeoma Oluo dropped this masterpiece, which makes a strong case for the exact opposite approach of what I advocate in the last three paragraphs.

    Clearly, I still have much to learn and much to think about, but I’m leaving this post as it was. Like everything else on this site, it’s a cairn left on my journey, and I’m not going to sterilize it.

    image: Fedora Magazine. Literally.

    (…Dammit, I just re-centered on my white feelings again. Bye.)

    1. Bill describes it well here

  • Feelings and Whiteness

    There’s a great chance I’m doing this wrong. Let me know in the comments.

     

    Since I was young, I’ve been hit harder by feelings than most of my peers.

    Whenever schoolyard talk got heated, I’d burst into tears and be unable to complete a sentence, then stumble into my 5th grade class, blotchy and sniffling.

    Decades later, I still feel things strongly, but for a different purpose. Today, I watched this on the drive home from downtown.

     

     

    That caused me to scream curses at my dashboard and sulk the rest of the evening.

    A year ago, I confessed to my wife, “Babe, I’m worried about Trump. He has a casual relationship with the truth, but he speaks with authority as if all his statements are verified and factual. What if people believe the crazy shit he says?”

    And here we are. In the video above, President Trump equates a small crowd of white supremacists with a smaller crowd of people there to start fights with white supremacists. In the mind of the President, they both share the blame for a violent clash that left dozens wounded and oneB dead.

    He’ll likely be re-elected in 2020 by a large demographic who views his words as truth without question.

     

    Recently, a friend of mine caught up with me. It had been a few years since we talked face to face, and he mentioned, “So I see that you’re posting more… um… racial stuff… on Facebook.”

    My friend is white, but you could probably guess that.

    And he was right; my journey to becoming more “woke” toB my own white privilegeB began fairly recently. As a kid, every member of my middle school classes was white, and I heard a dozen racist jokes before I even entered high school. My high school and college were both north of 90% white, as wereB my church, family, and co-workers.

    It wasn’t until halfway into my first year of teaching that I realized, “I’m the only white person in this room. That’s… probably never happened before.”

    That began a shift for me. But I’m hitting a wall now, years later.

     

    One of my favorite podcasts in Code Switch from NPR. In a recent episode, a Charlottesville resident said this:

    This [protesting Nazis] is easy, because it’s something that everyone’s for.
    Once this goes away, how we deal with other race issues is what really matters in the long run.

    My life is easy. Everyone on TV looks like me, people making decisions about our nation look like me, and no groups or legislation are calling for my rights, citizenship, or humanity to be diminished, overtly or otherwise. That’s my definition of privilege: theB little advantages that I didn’t earn or deserve that make my life easier.

    And there are dozens of them for me. Truly, it’s like I’ve won blackout inB Privilege Bingo.

    So I must be hyper-attentiveB when other groups cry, “oppression,” and I listenB in closely and shut up.

    While I can pat myself on the back for my tweets getting a lot of traction with people I respect, there’s probably very little net impact from that.

    Further, I have a bunch of relatives who post … insensitive… content on Facebook.
    Not all of them respond well when confronted about it. Some do.

    All of this makes itB really tempting to tune out, sterilize my social media feeds, and just listen to podcasts about architecture and sociologyB instead of politics and race relations (all real things in my feed).

    If I only hear about happy things, then I won’t be burdened with discomfort about my privilege.

    Even writing this post, I’m feel compelled to give examples of my digital activismB becauseB white folk love to take credit for being “one of the good ones.”B Do I link to the times that I called out toy companies for lack of representation and retweeted #EduColor?

    Districts want to hire consultants that just talk about math education, not tattooed punks who useB words like “patriarchy” when discussing equity in education. And on my day job, I serve hundreds of white teachers, not all of them are comfortable discussing the topic of race and privilege. Some of them just wanted help getting their work email on their phone.

    So I feel a little bit uncomfortableB all the time around the issue of race relations, unsure how often to address this issue that I care about that makes some of my peers, friends, and family squirm.

    I’m a little bit uncomfortable all the time.

     

    And that.

    That right there.

    That’s the price of my privilege.

    I feel uncomfortableB sometimes,B but I don’t get backhanded compliments for being “well-spoken.”
    I feel uncomfortable sometimes,B butB I don’t get unfairly policed. Ever.
    I feel uncomfortable sometimes,B butB I don’t draw suspicionB when I walk into expensive stores.
    I feel uncomfortable sometimes,B butB I don’t get shady eyes from white folk in traditional neighborhoods.

    And so on.

    So white people, I encourage you to join me. Lean into that uncomfortable feeling and listen. Ask friends and family what they mean when they say, “those people.” Call out microagressions when you hear them, even if it’s just asking, “What did you mean by that?”

    Not everyone has the option to tune out.

    I’ll close with this quote from Lori Lakin Hutcherson, in the article linked above:

    As to [white friend] bbeing part of the problem,b trust me, nobody is mad at you for being white. Nobody. Just like nobody should be mad at me for being black. Or female. Or whatever. But what IS being asked of you is to acknowledge that white privilege DOES exist and to not only to treat people of races that differ from yours bwith respect and humor,b but also to stand up for fair treatment and justice, to not let bjokesb or boff-colorb comments by friends, co-workers or family slide by without challenge, and to continually make an effort to put yourself in someone elsebs shoes, so we may all cherish and respect our unique and special contributions to society as much as we do our common ground.

    ~Matt “Privilege Bingo” Vaudrey

    *If I’m missing something, feel free to mention it below. This post is public, and I want any input to be public, too. Even if it makes me more uncomfortable.

     

    UPDATE 18 August 2017: Hank Green and I are on the same path.

     

  • Betsy Who? Why do I care?

    Image: Salon
    Image: Salon

    Today, the Senate voted 50-50 to confirm Betsy Devos as secretary of Education. It was so close and so contested that VP Mike Pence was brought in to cast the final vote.

    Maybe you’re not a teacher; here’s why you should still care and what that means for you.

    Who?

    Since Betsy Devos rose to prominence in November 2016, very little of the coverage has impacted my main concern, which has churned in my stomach since. As a teacher, I immediately Googled her, since I didn’t recognize herB name.

    I saw the same things many of y’all saw: never taught in a public school, sent her kids to a private school, worked with large educational organizations. All three of those areB alsoB true of Arne Duncan, the prior Secretary of Education.

    Who happens to look like Tim Curry.

    Untitled drawing (4)

    So what makes Devos scarier than Duncan? You’ve probably seen a zillion reasons to hate or praise her, some of which may be true for Duncan, also. For me, it’s one word that makes the educator and parent in me cringe:

    Vouchers

    In Michigan, Betsy Devos lobbied for the expansion of charter schools, even when they underperformed their publicly-staffed counterparts. As a teacher, I fight an uppity reflex when I hearB about classrooms that inadequately prepareB students for the future.

    I taught in a high school like that, and it was a grossB feeling when former students sentB me emails that said, “I am so unprepared for college. I’m in three remedial classes and I’ll probably need a 5th year to graduate.”

    The New Yorker is concerned that, if we begin to funnel public dollars into private schoolsB without holding them to the same standards, there’s no guarantee that our graduated students will have anyB minimum set of skills.

    That’s a fair bB and scary bB concern.

    "None of these books even have pictures?"
    “None of these books even have pictures?”

    As of this writing, there are 25 voucher programs in the country (14 states), serving some 176,000 students. That sounds like a lot, but we have roughlyB 50 million students in the country.

    What happens to the remaining 99.6% of our kids who still attend public schools?

    Even if vouchers are expanded and moreB US students attend private schools instead, what happens to those left behind in public schools with no money and poor teachers? And for those in private and charter schools, Devos has given no indication that they be held to the same minimum standards as public schools.

    All students deserve a quality education; I’m not convinced Devos will get them there.

    The world probably won’t implode,B my middle-class, white children will probably have a fine K-12 education, and I b the public education employee b will continue to ask tough questions and advocate for quality public education.

    And the silver lining to Betsy Devos gettingB confirmed: it’s gonna force us to have some hard conversations about what we want school to be.

    ~Matt “TryingB real hard to be objective” Vaudrey

    UPDATE: 15 February 2017
    Tweets like this can be read either way. I’m choosing to hope for the best.

  • Open Letter to Tom Torlakson, California Superintendent

    Mr. Torlakson,

    Good morning, you’ve no doubt heard that theB existing tenure situation was ruled unconstitutional yesterday.

    I myself was tearing up as I read the brief. For my entire career, I’ve felt what the court realized yesterday, and my relief and joy nearly made me weep during my meeting.

    Mr. Torlakson, you’reB currently “farther up” in the education chain of command than I–a lowly teacher–so it’s been a while since you’ve sat in a staff meeting or observed stinky teaching by a tenured “permanent” teacher.

    It’s probably been even longer since you watched a stinky teacher make more money than you. For me, that memory is fresh.

    Anyway, let’s talk about education.

    In the court briefing:

    “… teachers themselves do not want grossly ineffective colleagues in the classroom.” (page 13, line 1)

    If I were in your position, posed for reelection,B I would be tempted to please the California Teacher’s Association (one of my biggest supporters) in order to secure my seat in November.

    I’m asking that you focus on the students instead. Our students deserve great teachers, and as State Superintendent, you’ll have the proper pull toB drive the design of a system where great teaching is rewarded. This would helpB flush out the dummies and keep the hard-working professionals.

    I hope you see that, by encouraging teachers to be our best, we place the students first.

    In short, I’m a teacher, and my right to a job matters less than my students’ right to a quality education.

    Mr. Torlakson, please support this court ruling in the next few months and continue to reform teacher tenure after your (probable) reelection in November.

    ~Matt Vaudrey

    UPDATE June 25, 2014:

    P.S. No doubt that by now, you’ve read the highly polarized brief fromB the CTA website, you’ve heard complaints that the “1-3% of teachers are grossly ineffective” statistic is unfounded on any data or studies, and you’ve seen that Students First is hailing the decision as an important step, with many more to address going forward.

    Two things:

    1. As a classroom teacher, the “guesstimate” of 1-3% of all teachers are grossly ineffective is not only statistically likely, but it sounds pretty generous based on my anecdotal experience.
    2. The CTA press releases are full of negative language and the Students First releases are full of optimism and urgency. Why do you think that is?

  • Teacher Pay

    I’ve been out of the class for about a month.

    My co-workers and new bosses in the District Office have led me to many new conversations about Education (on and off the clock).

    If you don’t mind, fill in this anonymous form so I can make a graph of (what is probably) an inverse correlation. I’ll share it when I’m done.

    UPDATE: Also, if you know the pay of anybody else, feel free to enter it as well. It just occurred to me that very few District Administrators are on Twitter or read my blog.

    [googleapps domain=”docs” dir=”forms/d/1y3mVBjS5bXR6dwT03AtklLKplSzuaiqQQ1OihDMomL8/viewform” query=”embedded=true” width=”760″ height=”900″ /]

  • Sure Feels Like Quitting

    Wednesday – Last Day in the Classroom

    All four periods requested to throw a going-away party. I can take that as a sweet sentiment after I’ve made a difference in their lives all year…or a bunch of middle-schoolers lunging at any opportunity to have soda in class.

    It’s probably about 30-70.

    We packed up my personal effects, snacked on Hot Cheetos for 50 minutes, cleaned up for 3 minutes, then I told them this:

    “In cultures, when people are leaving to do new things, usually they are given a blessing or a commission. As my 8th graders promote to high school, usually I give a blessing, but I am leaving early, so we’re doing it today.B Some cultures place hands on the shoulders of the person who’s leaving, but there are too many of you, so I’ll just do this:”

    I hold my hands out over them, palms down.

    “May you be passionate problem-solvers and curious critics. May you be loyal to your friends, obedient to people in charge, friendly to strangers, and kind to those in need. May you be safe, healthy, loved, and happy, and may you becomeB more of those every day. May you every day become a better version of yourself. You have 54 days left of 8th grade. Make them count.”

    Bell rings. Out they go. I turn in my keys and leave.

    Tuesday – Two Days Left in the Classroom

    Vaudrey: You know how sometimes I’m silly and tell jokes? This isn’t one of those times. What I’m about to tell you isn’t a joke.

    Nathan: Are you dying?
    Jane: Are we in trouble?
    Angel: He’s totally dying.
    Diane: Just shut up and listen to him!

    Vaudrey: You will have a sub on Thursday and Friday; you already knew that. And when you come back from Spring Break, you will have a different math teacher. Tomorrow B is my last day here with you.

    Class: What? Why?

    Vaudrey: Those meetings I had at the District were job interviews. I’m going to be a Teacher Coach. I’ll take ideas from what our class does and go show other classes how to do it.

    Noah: Wow. This sucks.
    Diana: No! You’re the reason I get excited about learning!
    Marie starts crying.
    Ashley:B Can I have your Justin Bieber Picture?
    Alex: Can I have your Mr. Vaudrey sign?
    Asia: You should give us something because we’re your favorite class.
    Andy: Do you get paid more money?
    Laura: What kind of cake do you like?
    Mando: Does your wife know about this?
    Vaudrey: Yeah, she’s okay with it.
    Victor: Of courseB sheB is;B she’sB not getting herB heartB broken!
    Vaudrey: Please keep it quiet until the end of the day, so I can tell each class personally. I want them to hear it from me.
    Linda: [Red-faced and tears in her eyes] What if I can’t learn from the new teacher?

    Monday – Three Days Left in the Classroom

    “Did you get the joab?” Asked Ms. Zipper–my RSP Aide for 5th period–her distinct Brooklyn accent apparent in her enthusiasm.

    “Yeah, I did.” I gave a pained grin. “It’s bittersweet; I don’t want to leave my students mid-year.”

    “Oh!” She stammered. “When do you start?”

    “The Monday after break. My last day is Wednesday.”

    “This Wednesday?” Asked Zipper, her eyebrows raising and head tilting in a distinct New England mannerism. “Yoah kids are gonna lose it.”

    Friday – Four Days Left in the Classroom

    My phone rings as I’m grading our benchmarks in the teacher’s lounge. It’s Bobbi from district H.R.,B offering me a position as Professional Development Specialist. She says I start Monday, April 7th.

    April 7th is the first day back from our 2-week Spring Break, which starts Friday.
    Plus the CUE Conference is this Thursday-Saturday.

    I gulped, realizing that I had three more days with my students to tell them, pack up my class, and leave.

    Well… shoot.

    ~Matt “Change Hurts” Vaudrey

    *That was the humblest way I could explain what a Professional Development Specialist does, without making it sound like I’m ditching them.

  • Tony Danza and Haiti

    This will be short. I’m spending every waking minute prepping my presentations for conferences at CLMS South and CMC South (featuring John Stevens), so blogging has fallen by the wayside.

     

    This morning, I was driving to work listening to Tony Danza’s book on tape (which I highly recommend for teachers and gentiles alike). He was talking about the Haiti crisis, and I was reminded of where I was on that day in 2010.

    The Charter School where I taught was taking donations to fund the relief effort. Some of my students scoffed as the ASB representative came in to collect. Others in the back where chatting about the upcoming dance. One was drawing.

    I took all the change out of my drawer and some cash from my wallet and stuffed it in the jar. At this point in the year, my students knew that I wasn’t flaunting, but trying to model for them. I could have stepped outside to donate privately, but… whatever. They need to know that it’s important.

    Angel was a quiet first-generation English speaker who had recently been revealed as ROCKET, the graffiti artist terrorizing books and bathroom stalls.

    “Mr. Vaudrey!” Angel calls from the back row. “DoB you think we should give money to Haiti?”

    All at once, the class falls silent.

    All 31 sets of hands immediately stopped what they were doing and 31 pairs of eyes were fixed on me, still standing at the front of the class after the ASB rep left.

    I took a deep breath.

    “IfB I were hurting,” I begin, my eyes unexpectedly filling with tears. “I’d want somebody to come toB my rescue.”

    I’m getting choked up now just writing this and thinking about what an awful day that was for the hundreds of thousands of Haitian people.

    I really hope that those students heard me.

    ~Matt Vaudrey

  • Birthday b $ Thursday

    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.

    … actually … hearing it like that …

    It’s probably better to be a kid.

    ~Mr. V