Mrvaudrey

Category: Vulnerability

  • Teacher Report Card – Ms. Taormina

    The following is a guest post from Brittany Taormina, who gave the Teacher Report Card to her students during 2021 distance learning. She tweeted me about it, and her grand risk deserves some celebration. Check it out below!

    8:10am the morning bell rings, students slowly begin making their way down the 4th grade hallway into our classroom. The routine each and every morning is the same, day after day. Students read the board and follow the instructions to get their morning going.

    Untilb&

    They walked into the room on the day they got to, bgrade the teacher,b the whispers, the murmurs were happening all around the room.
    bWe get to grade the teacher for once! Wait, what?! We get to give the teacher grades?! YES!b They were beyond excited and got right to work.

    I was shocked at how serious these fourth graders took filling out this google form. In all honesty, I wasnbt expecting them to take it very seriously, but they surprised me! The information that I was able to gather was amazing.

    I learned spots in which I need to continue to grow as a teacher, I learned that my kids donbt think I have bad breath (phew!), and I learned spots in which my kids think I am doing very well.

    One huge takeaway I had was from the written responses the students filled out. So many of them wrote about our special little activities we do that have nothing to do with the curriculum but so much to do with our classroom community.

    Which leads me to a whole another tangent.

    Classroom community is one of my biggest focuses, year after year. I want each and every student in my room to feel welcome. I received responses like, bMy teacher makes me feel like I belongb, bMy teacher makes me feel like a million bucks!b, and bMy teacher makes me feel good and ready to learn and excited to go to school and I never experienced that beforeb. These are all statements written by 4th graders; who knew they had such big feelings and such awareness of how an adult can make them feel?

    This was eye opening to me. Needless to say, my kiddos feel loved and that made my heart happy.

    Now for the growthb& we all have to continue to grow. No one is ever the bperfectb teacher. I learned that sometimes my kids feel like I donbt use clear language to explain a lesson (awesome information). I need to work on explaining things in a way that all of my learners can understand.

    Had I not taken this risk and given this teacher report card a shot, I would have never learned this about myself.

    The teacher report card was definitely a scary thing to post in my google classroom for my kids to fill out, it was completely out of my comfort zone and something I wasnbt sure if I was ready to see the results of.

    Why? I’m not sure.

    I know I do my job and I love each and everyone of my kids, but you just never know how honest and harsh a kid’s criticism might be. But I took a risk, I was brave, and the kids continued to talk about that teacher report card all day long because they felt like they had a say and a true voice in our classroom.

    This was a first for me this yearb& but definitely not a last! Thank you Mr. Vaudrey for inspiring me to be brave, take a risk, and continue to grow myself as an educator for the better of my students.

    ~Brittany

    Picture of Brittany, smiling and giving a thumbs-up
    Follow @btaorminad10 on Twitter

    If you’re interested in giving the Teacher Report Card to your class, see the tweet below!

    (Admin and Instructional Coaches, there are links for y’all there, too.)

  • Timeline of Whiteness

    It’s 2020. I’m white.

    Even though I’m no expert on capital-R Race in Education, I want to model a willingness to be publicly accountable. As Dr. Ibram X. Kendi said in this podcast:

    If the heartbeat of racism is denial, then the heartbeat of anti-racism is confession. To be anti-racist is to admit when we are being racist.

    There are probably a lot of ways that I’ve been racist in my life and not noticed it, which I was pondering when I saw Marian’s tweet:

    I’m unafraid of admitting things that make me look bad, apologizing, and doing better. I’m on a journey to be anti-racist, and that means admitting when I’ve been racist. If sharing my journey makes it easier for other educators to start talking about racism in schools, then my vulnerability is worth it.

    So here are all the memories I can think of when I was aware of my race as a white person, including some that deserve apology. Strap in:

    5 years old: I make friends with a kid who lives nearby my Grammybs house. I tell her, bI was invited for dinner with the Brown family.b Later, she finds out that the family name is Thompson, but they were the only “brown” family I knew.

    3rd grade: I hear my first racist joke and retell it at home. One parent chuckles, the other one says it wasn’t funny. I didn’t understand why it was supposed to be funny in the first place.

    4th grade: Our rural elementary school has one black kid and 300-some white kids. Justin had mocha skin and curly hair and was also the fastest runner in my class. My friend Brian lost the race to Justin, and when he sat next to me on the bus that day, he said, “Justin is such a n*****.”

    5th grade: Still in that small, rural school, my music teacher stops class to turn on the TV to see the OJ verdict. Later that week, Ibm certain I heard the term ball-black juryb several times.

    9th grade: I transfer to the big high school in the next city over. We sit alphabetically in class, and the Tullous twins always sit near me. They wear the du-rags and baggy pants that were common in the late 90s. One day, they show me the latest issue of Vibe magazine, featuring musicians and actors Ibd never seen. I realize there is a whole culture I know nothing about, but I make no effort to learn more.

    11th grade: On 9/11, my friend from drumline walked the halls yelling, “Osama must die! (points at a student) Do you know Osama?” I never saw a teacher correct him.

    Freshman in college: multiple times at parties or gatherings, I tell my friends, bIbm not afraid to describe somebodybs race! White skin, dark skin, brown eyes, blue eyes; skin color is just a physical description to me. Itbs not a bad thing! I don’t see race, I just see people.b

    Sophomore in college: I grow my hair out in an attempt to get my straight hair to form dreadlocks. bI have such hair envy for black people,b I say. bI wish I could have dreadlocks or an Afro.b

    Junior in college: I secure a scholarship to play drums in the Gospel Choir, and for the first time, I am in a room with more non-white people than white people. If I made any inappropriate comments, none of the other musicians ever pushed back. They were probably pretty good at ignoring white nonsense at my private, Christian university.

    First-year teaching: I have a student in class whose behavior I struggle to redirect. During the year, she gets louder and more foul (likely due to my weak attempts to manage the class). After a parent meeting, one of my colleagues says, “What’s the point? She’s just going to be a gang member anyway. All these little monsters are.”

    Fourth-year teaching: One of my seniors is constantly disruptive in my class. One day, I change his seat to move him away from his friend, and he responds, bYeah, of course you move me to the back of the bus.b
    Ibm shocked, then pissed, and I kick him out of class.

    Sixth-year teaching: The day before my 8th-graders have a test on the Quadratic Formula, I mix up my review game with pictures of Asian people and ask them to name if the person is Chinese, Korean, or Japanese. Eliah, who is very proud of her Filipino heritage, says, bMr. Vaudrey, thatbs racist!b
    I reply, bHow is that racist? Ibm not saying anything bad about them!b
    She doesnbt respond.

    Seventh-year teaching: My fourth period is a handful. One day, Deon and Keisha arrive late from lunch, and I send them straight to the office. I probably made some comment like “You’ve used up my grace by being so disruptive every day.” The following year, I read Dr. Chris Emdin’s book and am horrified to learn that what I viewed as “respectful” behavior was based on my whiteness and what made me feel respected. Deon and Keisha were “loud” but rarely rude, and “disruptive” was thinly-veiled racism.

    Second-year Instructional Coach: During a district-office activity, we are telling the HR department what we want in the new Superintendent. I write “less white people” on a Post-It note and stick it on the board. My boss pulls me aside afterward and we discuss advocating in a way that creates change (and doesn’t make the only black guy in the room uncomfortable, since everyone thinks he wrote the Post-It).

    Third-year Instructional Coach: My spouse wants to move into a “good” neighborhood, near one of the schools that’s an 8 or a 9 on the real-estate websites. I ask her to define what “good” school means, citing that the website with the same name is super-problematic. We end up moving to a great house in a middle-class neighborhood, and our kids attend school with a variety of different ethnicities. My daughter’s 7th birthday was the most ethnically-diverse gathering in our family’s history.

    Fifth-year consultant: Immediately after wrapping a keynote speech where I reference the problematic suspension and expulsion rates of non-white students, one of the attendees points out that every stock photo on my slides includes only white students. I thank her for pointing it out and immediately fix that slideshow and update my process for finding stock photos.

    Fourth-year Instructional Coach: I’m still getting gigs speaking to teachers, so I begin to work in discussion about race, privilege, equity, and other squirmy topics into my keynote addresses. The people who need to hear this message are unlikely to enter the room intentionally, but they won’t walk out if I start talking about race in a workshop about bravery or warm-ups or whatever. (More here)

    First-year Admin: I email out a copy of our revised Dress Code to all staff at the middle-school, where Ibm one of the Assistant Principals. Months later, the only black staffer notes that it was inappropriate to name specific hairstyles when I encouraged teachers to be aware of their classroom policies. Following the script in White Fragility, I thank her for telling me, apologize for the impact of my language, and ask what else she noticed about my behavior that is problematic.

    Later that year, the police question a boy without his parents present, and once they arrive, do not ask for consent before recording. My unease turned to panic as I realized what was happening, and I made sure to sit near the boy during questioning and insist the parents were present before we proceed. The parents still thank me every time we see each other, but the cop and my boss were both unhappy with me that day.

    “Vaudrey… what’s the point of this?”

    I’m no expert in Anti-Racism, but I hope that owning my entire journey will encourage other white folks to do the same. Join me; let’s get uncomfortable together.

    If it means that we’re better prepared to support students, it’s completely worth it.

    ~Matt “Admitting Where I’ve Been Racist” Vaudrey

    NOTE: It’s possible I’m being racist in some of these retellings. Let me know in the comments; by posting this publicly, I’m welcoming correction.

  • Admin Report Card – December 2019

    “Be brave! Take a grand risk! Let your students grade you!”

    superhero woman flexing her bicep with a big smile and her cape hanging behind her

    Dozens of times, I’ve said those words in a workshop, a keynote, or a Google Slam, proclaiming the benefits of real, honest feedback from the students we serve.

    Each time I b as a teacher b gave the Teacher Report Card, I took the results with a grain of salt. Of course, Keyonna would give me low marks since she was kicked out of class the day before.

    As an Instructional Coach, the feedback was overwhelmingly glowing and positive, since I was the problem-solver who never had to stick around long enough to make a mistake or a tough decision. “Of course, Vaudrey is helpful and delightful!” the Coach Report Card said.

    Then I became a school administrator. I knew b in theory b that I would struggle at first, that there would be many hard lessons, and that I would likely make rookie mistakes that hurt the feelings of my staff.

    Reading their feedback on the first Admin Report Card was hard, probably because my ego had been padded with the Coach Report Card for the last five years. Wincing through the narratives, I found four themes, presented here with examples from my staff’s submissions.*

    Energetic

    Your energy and smile are such a treat!
    You energy has always been the best part of you. It is infectious and I appreciate that you seem to have it no matter what kind of day it has been.
    You have a positive attitude and seem to love being here.
    You check in with kind words and positivity.

    Too Nice

    Maybe you’re too nice to the kids sometimes? Sometimes they deserve a harsher consequence than they seem to get.
    Sometimes students who display poor behavior have been allowed to get away with it.
    You need to be tougher with discipline.

    Dismissive & Condescending

    You should really try to get to know us on a deeper level.
    You may hear what I tell you, but you don’t act upon it.
    Sometimes [you make me feel] as if I’m not even there.
    PLEASE make a real effort to not be so dismissive. We are all educated adults and deserve your respect.

    Good Listener

    You make me feel comfortable.
    Valued. Heard.
    You make me feel important.
    You’re readily available to talk.
    I’ve never felt like he feels he is better than any other person.

    Presenting all of my Report Card responses to the staff in a packet (and the other administrators’ responses, too) generated a lot of feelings on the staff. For our teachers, the most frustrating lines from the packets were “mean and bullshit.” This was in stark contrast to the constructive feedback that was kind, but accurate.

    During our chats the rest of the day, I sketched up…

    *ahem*

    The Feedback Matrix

    Quadrant I (blue region, kind and accurate) is the most helpful feedback. An example from back in my teacher days said, “You sometimes ignore me, even if I raise my hand. You always call on the same smart kids and I feel like I’m not needed.”

    Kind, but accurate. It gave me clear actions I could take to get improve in my profession (and I did).

    Loads of our staff were very supportive in shouting down the comments from Quadrant III (gray region, mean bullshit), saying, “Those people are just toxic, and you’re not likely to win their approval ever.”

    My hope is to move people from Quadrants II (green region, mean and accurate) and IV (pink region, kind and bullshit) into Quadrant I.

    If a staff filled out the Report Card with kind bullshit (“You’re doing great! Keep it up! You’ve got a hard job!”), then they could be encouraged to be more accurate. Seeing the Admin team acknowledge the areas for growth might encourage the staff to be more honest with us.

    Additionally, some people who were accurate and mean (“The office discipline is a waste of everyone’s time. I wish Vaudrey would do his job!”). Hopefully, they were encouraged to be more kind with their accurate feedback (once they saw all the meanness put together).

    Regardless, it was a helluva day.

    a man giving a deep sigh and slow exhale, his cheeks puffed out, holding a marker
    image: Health Essentials

    If you’re an administrator considering this, I offer three suggestions:

    1.) Read every line

    After sharing my results with the staff, a few teachers came up to dismiss specific lines in my feedback.
    “Vaudrey’s a racist? Really? That’s total bullshit.”

    My response was something like, “Thank you, but even if that person was trying to hurt my feelings, I’m looking for the grain of truth in every submission. It’s very likely that person knew that accusation would hurt the most, but I still reflected on it, looking for places to do better.”

    2.) Highlight the results

    The other assistant principal gave me this idea; highlighting results that hovered around a certain theme. I highlighted of my “Energetic and positive” comments with yellow, so I could see patterns and (in theory) figure out what percentage of the results.

    I think researchers call this “coding for Qualitative Analysis,” but I just called it “making sense and looking for themes.”

    If you choose to ask for feedback like this, it will be easy to dwell on the lines that hurt the most. First, go through your submissions (or spreadsheet) and highlight the happy ones. It’ll be easier to stomach the painful stuff if you remember that a lot of students/staff think you’re doing great.

    3.) Share your reflection

    When I was a teacher, I would ask students about the themes I saw in their responses. “Many of you said that I only call on the same few people. What are some ways that you think I could do a better job?” My students not only had loads of ideas that I had never considered (many from other teachers on campus), but also felt more comfortable in my class, knowing that I was willing to learn and grow alongside them.

    At our staff meeting this week, several staff said they were impressed at our bravery and vulnerability, sharing our feedback with everybody, warts and all.

    Hopefully, we’ll look back on that time as a moment where the whole staff began to be more vulnerable with each other and grow together.

    ~Matt “Energetic, Kind, Condescending, Listener” Vaudrey

    *We were very clear with the staff that it was anonymous and they should let loose on us. To that end, I’ve respected their privacy here by paraphrasing and re-writing the themes. In past years on this site, I’ve published the results unedited, but that wouldn’t be fair to my staff for this year.

    UPDATE: 22 May 2021 – If you want to modify that Feedback Matrix, click here to make your own copy.

  • 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

  • Teacher Report Card – Mr. James’ Class

    It’s June. The end of the school year is a great time to take a risk and try something new.B

    On Twitter, several teachers have committed to letting their students grade them (more on that later), and Jesse agreed to write about his experience and let me share it here.

    (I’ve bugged several more to blog about it, and if they do, I’ll link them at the bottom.)

     

    I knew I liked the idea as soon as I saw Matt Vaudreybs tweet about a Teacher Report Card. Just as the tweet said, I knew Ibd be taking a risk, showing some vulnerability, but also knew that my students would definitely give me the feedback I was asking forbafter all, I do teach middle schoolers.

    Earlier in the school year I had some impromptu feedback sessions (digitally as well as face-to-face) when things didnbt seem to be going so well, both in my classroom and amongst the team of teachers I work with. Both were insightful and gave my students a much-needed voice to air grievances as well as positives about the year.

    When my students saw bTEACHER REPORT CARDb written on the daily agenda in all caps, I heard their whispered questions and confusion. For a couple of days, scheduling and last-minute assemblies (and lessons that went into overtime) delayed my introduction of their chance to bgradeb me. But finally the day came for me to explain to them what the Teacher Report Card was all about.

    I told them, bJust as you receive a report card at the end of the year and just like you have received feedback from me during the year, this time you will be the ones in charge of the grades and feedback.b I witnessed a few devious smiles as my eyes scanned the crowd. They liked the idea of this teacher feedback thing way too much.

    What had I gotten myself into?

    I explained that I wanted them to take their time to think about our year together and take their time in grading my classroom, lessons, and b ultimately b me. While there were a few who rushed through the feedback (there always are, but in that, maybe therebs some feedback, too) most of my students were thoughtful and reflective of their sixth grade year in Mr. Jamesb ELA class.

    Reading through the responses I was floored at what some of them had to say. As much as being vulnerable can sway in a positive or negative direction, being vulnerable ultimately makes me a better teacher. Andb&isnbt that the important thing?

    My students were honest in their responses and b at times b their responses touched my heart in the most positive way possible.

    bI feel like I have improved as a reader throughout the school year, and I have thought more about reading than I ever have. :)b

    bI just want to say thank you for being my teacher because since you are my first teacher of the day you help me get through the rest of the day. I also like the way you teach and I think youbre an amazing teacher. Keep it up!b

    bIf we do something wrong he lets us explain ourselves.b

    bI am really glad I ended up with you to start off my journey through HJM. I donbt know how much worse the transition would have been without you, so thanks for staying sane. Mostly.b

    Most of the feedback was very positive and will help me continue doing the things that I do well.

    But then, there were other responses that were tough to read.

    Tough responses that reminded me that this whole vulnerability thing wasnbt as easy as I thought it might be.
    Tough responses that I knew were about a moment that negatively affected a student in my classroom.
    Tough responses that ultimately will make me a much better teacher, but in the moment I was reading them just made me feel like I could have done better b could have done more b and thatbs the part that hurts.

    “Sometimes I hate it when the teacher asks me questions I don’t even know the answer to and when I don’t say anything he will just ask me until I answer.b

    bSometimes, the teacher doesnbt let us finish our sentences.b

    bDonbt yell at people for no reason.b

    bSometimes, the teacher gets on my nerves because i’ll say something and he’ll just look at me like I’m stupid and then maybe answer my question after he calls on another student.b

    While all these tough responses will make a difference, that last response is the response that will make the biggest difference.
    The response that will have the most profound impact on the rest of my teacher career.
    The response that makes this vulnerability a good thing even when it hurts. Because the insecurity and the guilt and the apologetic thoughts that are running through my head as I read that (and as I write this) are what will make me better.

    I encourage all teachers to be reflective in their practice, but to also allow your students to be reflective about their year with you. Allow their voices to be heard and allow them to give you honest feedback through a teacher report card or some other form of feedback.

    Prepare yourself to feel great after reading those incredibly thoughtful heartwarming comments, but also prepare yourself to rack your brain for the moment in the classroom that you may have made a child feel anything less than great.

    Thanks for reading.

    ~Jesse James