8 Lessons For White Teachers In “Urban” Schools

May 18, 2022June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 1 Comment

I wrote recently about some of the challenges of being an old white guy from a non-descript middle-class background teaching in a high-poverty, majority-minority school. My goal was to be honest about some of the difficulties without veering into whining or – worse – appearing to criticize my kids. Whatever my struggles, they pale (if you’ll pardon the expression) compared to many of theirs.

It’s in that same spirit that I’d like to share some end-of-the-year thoughts for anyone who might find themselves in a similar situation at some point, either as a newbie teacher or as an experienced educator moving into an unfamiliar district. I offer no data, no documentation, and no guarantees – merely hard-won insights based on my subjective experiences.

Still, let’s be honest – I’m much, MUCH wiser than most of those “real” experts, so let’s just assume this list is canon until proven otherwise.

(1) You Don’t Actually “Get It”

My first year here, a veteran teacher (also white) took me aside and told me to read the books and go to the workshops and do everything I could to understand my kids, but to recognize that we’ll NEVER be as “woke” as they are. “You and I will never quite understand what it’s like to be in their worlds, and if you pretend you do, they’ll see right through you.”

This was (and is) good advice, whatever your demographic details. Do the reading. Pay attention to the conversations. Understand the research. But don’t presume you “get it” unless their world was your world first.

(2) Own Your Biases & Assumptions

Repeat this to yourself out loud at least once each day before you head to work: “I may not think so, but I have biases. I make assumptions and form generalities which are sometimes incorrect. This is a natural, human thing to do and doesn’t make me a bad person – but it can hinder my efforts to be a good teacher unless I’m careful. What should I be questioning about my own thoughts or feelings today?”

Here’s an easy example: many of my students like rap and hip-hop (are those even different things these days?) A significant minority, however, prefer K-Pop, 90’s-era grunge, or some other genre not normally associated with “those kids.” If I simply assume they all like rap and hip-hop, it builds unnecessary barriers from something I’d hoped would build connections. Something with a bit more bite: for years, I’ve called students by their last names – “Mr. ___” or “Miss ___” as a sign of respect and an attempt to elevate expectations. Here, this produces outraged reactions and verbal hostility beyond what I ever could have imagined. This is not hyperbole – it’s a very consistent reaction among 90% of my students when I slip up and forget. Whatever my intentions, it simply doesn’t mean to them what I think it should mean – so I adjust.

It’s actually not that difficult to avoid egregiously offensive stereotyping (assuming you’re not clueless or a complete tool). It’s the little things that catch you off guard and trip you up. Even if you don’t offend or horrify anyone, you’ll feel silly and it won’t do much for that whole “rapport” thing you’re going for.

(3) You Need Thick Skin.

This is true of teaching in general, but (as I wrote about a few weeks ago) broken kids tend to radiate anger and hurt and fear and other emotional concoctions I can’t even properly identify.

It’s fairly rare in my building for a kid to lash out at a teacher directly. I’ll get “attitude” or the occasional snub when attempting to speak to someone (usually from kids I don’t actually have in class, and thus with whom I have little or no relationship). From time to time a student will unexpectedly dig in on something small and escalate the situation past what seems reasonable, but these are separate events to be managed – not an ubiquitous feature of the environment.

In my experience, it’s the sheer volume and intensity of the unspoken emotions which can be crippling. I don’t want to sound overly mystic or touchy-feely, but the real challenge isn’t usually specific kids with specific attitudes, expressions, or behaviors I can identify – it’s the intangible waves of doubt and anger and injustice and posturing and uneasiness.

(4) Be Consistent (Within Reason)

This is a biggie in almost any classroom situation, but I’d argue it’s exponentially more important with kids from broken backgrounds and disenfranchised demographics. If you’re strict about the rules, be the same level of strict every day, with every student, as best you can without obvious harm. If you’re lax about late work, be the same amount lax throughout the year whenever feasible. Perhaps most importantly, leave your personal emotions in the car and be the person they need you to be no matter how you really feel that day.

Teenagers in general have an exaggerated sense of injustice – and my kids take this to whole new levels. They also tend to take things far more personally than other groups. Let a teacher be absent for a few days without providing a good reason (in the eyes of their kids) and even the students who don’t like them begin wrestling with abandonment issues. Speak more harshly than you intend or overlook a question in the middle of a chaotic moment and you might as well have slapped them right in the id.

This doesn’t mean you can’t hold kids accountable or that you should never adjust based on circumstances. Just remain aware of anything which might be perceived as “unfair” and be prepared to justify it to yourself, your kids, and anyone up the chain.

(5) Don’t Expect Consistency In Return.

This, too, can be a “teenager” thing no matter what their demographics. It seems far more volatile with my current kids, however, than with groups I’ve had in the past, not just in terms of attendance, behavior, or academics, but emotionally as well. It’s like they’re controlled by dozens of internal game show wheels constantly being re-spun to see what comes out next.

I have a young lady who rarely (if ever) makes the slightest attempt to participate in anything educational. She’s not always disruptive, but neither will she go through the motions with us just to be cooperative. When I make an effort to speak to her during more relaxed moments (just as I do with most kids from time to time) she’s often resentful, bordering on rude. On the other hand, when I leave her alone for more than a day, she asks me why I’m “ignoring” her and sounds genuinely offended.

Today after school, a young man I don’t remember ever seeing or speaking to saw me in the hall, called my name, then gave me a quick combination fist-bump-bro-hug-finger-snap-something that caught me completely off guard. I think I hid my surprise pretty well, but I still don’t know what I did to earn the exchange.

(6) Be Kind (Not Soft)

Some groups respond well to sarcasm and abuse as a love language. I was brutal to my suburban freshmen (of all colors), but no matter how cruel I managed to be, they ate it up and decided it made us “tight.” My current kids can be quite ugly with one another without seeming to take it badly, but I know instinctively (and without any doubt) that it would be a terrible idea for me to join the dozens. I can be a good teacher and develop productive relationships with my kids without sharing the dynamics they have with our security team (all of whom are Black) or some of the other staff. It’s not about me proving anything or earning “wokeness” bonus points; it’s about what’s best for the kids in front of me.

I’ve raised my voice to a full class a few times throughout the year when necessary to get their attention, but it’s my conviction that there are few – if any – situations in which an old white man yelling at individual students of color will lead to better outcomes. Maybe it’s the mamby-pamby liberal in me, but I just can’t stomach it. Plus, I’m not sure anger or hostility (no matter how strategic) is particularly effective with any demographics, at least these days. Maybe they never were.

Be firm. Follow through on consequences. Expect the best. But recognize that the sort of posturing or emotional responses which might be excusable (if not ideal) in other circumstances may do irredeemable damage to your relationship with those already marginalized – and possibly to the kids themselves.

(7) Don’t Patronize

Under no circumstances should you try to be cooler or hipper or more “down with the kids” than you truly are. If you actually play that video game, love that album, or eat that food, then bond away when situationally appropriate. But dear god, PLEASE don’t try to use slang you don’t fully understand or emulate speech patterns which are not your own. I’m not suggesting you have to maintain a commitment to the Queen’s English or refuse to learn their language in order to improve communication; I’m merely pointing out what a bad idea it is to be disingenuous – however noble your intentions.

They’ll eventually explain to you anything you’re not understanding about their slang or their approach. Enjoy those moments, but don’t think they free you up to make a fool of yourself.

(8) It’s Not Personal.

As with much on this list, this is a good thing to keep in mind with any students in any situation, but it’s particularly apt with underserved kids. Some days, you’ll feel like you’re making progress and developing some good communication; the next day, they want nothing to do with you or your (seemingly) pointless lessons. If you rely on positive interactions to sustain you, you’ll find yourself deflated by negative feedback or disengaged days. There’s a messy balance between “reading the room” enough to adjust what you’re doing for maximum effectiveness and the need to simply push ahead with what you know to be right even when they’re giving you nothing to draw on.

Keep talking to your peers (the good ones, anyway). It’s OK to vent as long as you soon come back around to the things in your control and your professional and ethical commitments to figuring out what’s best for the young folks in your care – whether they love it or not. Don’t be afraid of asking for help with uncomfortable issues, but neither should you assume that every awkward moment or frustrating interaction is about race, or poverty, or culture, or whatever. Sometimes teaching is just weird and people are just complicated.

Especially teenagers.

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Things You Can Do

January 3, 2018June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

It’s easy to feel completely and totally whipped by events beyond our immediate control these days. I’ve had to walk away from social media and all forms of legit news – local, national, or foreign – for days at a time, just to find the energy to function and do the stuff “real life” needs me to do. I hate having to choose between being engaged and being happy – part of why things go to hell in the first place is because too many people aren’t paying real attention.

But it’s a new year, and while there’s no particular magic to a man-made calendar and an arguably arbitrary changing of the numerals, it IS a good time to reevaluate and reboot. It’s a GREAT time to try to make small but significant changes in how you approach the world.

Obviously I’d love to make some sort of major difference – so would many of you. And if that chance comes, then take it. Jump. Speak. Risk. Be a hero, a voice, a thorn in someone’s propaganda. What’s the worse that’s likely to happen? Maybe you’ll look a bit melodramatic or paranoid when things play out OK. I can live with that. Maybe there will be consequences, mockery, or even very real backlash. If you’re doing what’s right, I believe that’s a good thing – however much it will no doubt suck in real time.

But while we’re straining to remain vigilant and preparing for the possibility of such moments, I thought it might be useful to have an open discussion about some things most of us could do in the meantime. Stuff to fight the decay, and to proclaim some better “American” values. Heck, some of them may even be spiritual values as well.

I triple-dog dare you to do at least one of these as soon as you finish reading this post, and to add one or two a month until sainthood is achieved and all of our problems are solved. Feel free to add your own suggestions at the end – they may be better than mine.

(1) Subscribe to a newspaper. Anything legit will do. Local papers have many benefits, but there are plenty of online publications you’re reading anyway every time someone links to a story on Twitter or Facebook. Pick one or two and give them your $10/month to read them for real. If we say we value truth and investigatory journalism and the free press, then value it.

(2) Support local artists. Go see a play at the community theatre. Buy tickets to some dance performance that sounds interesting but may or may not make any sense to you. Visit your local museums, and if they don’t charge admission, drop some money in that donation box near the entrance. Go have a beer and cheer for some local band – especially if they’re playing a few originals along with “Jesse’s Girl” for the zillionth time. Art matters. It’s not all miraculous, and it’s not all progressive, but by its nature art seeks truth and explores humanity. If you want to fight our descent into fascism, support the arts in whatever flavor most appeals to you.

(3) Be nice to someone scary and/or dirty. Obviously I’m not asking you to put yourself in physical danger or to give money to someone you suspect is simply scamming folks just trying to make a left turn. But it doesn’t have to be money or taking them for coffee (although the latter has very real potential) – start by making eye contact. Talk to them, even if it’s just to say “hello” or “good morning.” Find some excuse to be pleasant to folks behind you in line or standing at the same counter (bonus points if they’re a different color or obviously from a different socio-economic realm). Let someone have that parking place or go ahead of you to order lunch. Compliment their shoes or earrings. It’s cliched but true – that stuff makes us feel better.

(4) Volunteer once a month somewhere. My druthers lean towards the ACLU or CAIR, but you don’t have to go that direction if that’s not you. Food banks always need help, as does Habitat for Humanity. If you’re not sure where to start, ask your employer, or find the local United Way, or religious institution of your choice. It’s OK if you want to go with someone you trust a bit more than the rest – but do SOMETHING. A few hours matter, and it might just grow on you.

(5a) Read novels. Fiction tends to promote empathy – not as a plot point, but simply by its nature. Reading of any kind expands our horizons and broadens our base of knowledge. It makes us think differently than we might otherwise, and it takes our brain out of the grind and into a higher place for a while. Even if it’s only for a few minutes a day, we’re not quite the same when we return. Take one of those gift cards you got for Christmas or dig out that old library card you hardly ever use and pick something. If you don’t like it, you have my full permission to set it aside after a few chapters and try something else. No guilt – this is READING.

(5b) Read history. There’s so much accessible, well-written history available. It doesn’t have to be anything overtly tied to current events – pick something or someone in whom you have passing interest and see what B&N, Amazon, or your local library thinks might make a good place to start learning more. Nor does it have to be deep and complicated. If you don’t read much history, start with something light – but legit. Pretend it’s for your teenager if you’re worried about looking foolish. But you won’t.

(6) Get involved in local political campaigns – especially during primaries. Don’t wait until the big national elections. Volunteer to make calls, to knock on doors, to talk to the public. I know it often ends up feeling futile, but we can give up or we can try. So we try.

(7) Pay attention to your loved ones. It’s easy in frustrating times to take our nearest and dearest for granted, whether they agree with us or not. Make sure you’re listening to your spouse, spending time with your kids (and not just watching the news with them), making plans with your friends. Stay connected to real people in your real world. Value them, and love them even if they don’t always make it easy. They’re why reality matters – don’t let it alienate you from them.

(8) Insist on the good things. Listen to music that gives you strength or makes you happy. Binge on that same dumb show on Netflix. Have desert (unless that plunges you into guilt and same instead). Notice when people are smart or funny or do nice things. Point it out to yourself when things work out the way you wish they would. This isn’t about being optimistic, and certainly not about bathing yourself in self-delusion – it’s about building monuments to the “wonderful life” moments. It’s about not letting others’ distortions and destruction steal your joy quite so easily.

(9) When you DO engage in social or political discussions, whether in person or online, avoid either marinating in your outrage or escalating when you know better. Don’t fight crazy with crazy, or hate with hate, and for the love of all that is holy, don’t fight shoddy attention to facts and reality by being shoddier. If your emotions begin to swell, it’s usually a safe bet you should walk away before (or instead of) responding.

Consider responding ONCE to dissent or challenge, on the off chance an actual dialogue may be established. Maybe they have a point. Maybe you’re missing some dynamic in the situation. Maybe you can reach someone else with your ideas or values. But if that’s clearly not what’s happening after one reply, let it go. No need to even tell them why; there are few things so deafening as the silence of cyberspace when you think you’re really sticking it to someone and they simply lose interest and disappear.

And finally…

(10) Meditate, or Pray, or Reflect. Set aside a few minutes each day and clear your mind. Talk yourself through things calmly. Recite the basics you know to be true. List things for which you’re thankful. Sort through what you can and can’t control. If you believe in God, then turn it over – on purpose, whether you feel it or not. If you don’t, do it anyway. Breathe, and lower that blood pressure. We need you, healthy and centered and clear-headed and strong. Take care of yourself, seriously. If you don’t know where to begin, ask someone who does.

Who knows? We might just turn this mess around. Even if we don’t, though, we can go down gloriously. That probably means some kicking and screaming, but it also means refusing to let THEM set the tone. It means insisting on DOING everything we can do to make things better, and righter, and truer, even if we eventually lose.

I believe in you. Let’s get to it.

Seven Reasons You Probably Don’t Suck (For Teachers)

March 19, 2017June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 3 Comments

Well, it’s that time of year. Spring Break has passed – the last landmark of rebootage and rejuvenation.

Many of us are returning without much idea what we’ll be doing in class this week. Maybe you feel behind again, and have big plans for getting things ‘back on track.’ Or maybe all that stuff you were gonna do better this year has already kinda fizzled, and you’re just hanging on until term ends. Some of you are excited about seeing your kids again – which is weird. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you… but it’s still seriously weird.

So maybe you’re optimistic, or maybe you’re sad break is over, or maybe…

Maybe you don’t actually know anymore. Maybe you had the best intentions ever, but when it’s quiet and you’re alone, you wonder…

Oh god, do I suck at this? Maybe I’m not cut out to be a teacher. I mean, I like it sometimes… often, really. I just thought I’d be better at it. It’s like I can’t quite… they just aren’t… I wish… *sigh*.

I get it. Whatever variation taunts you, I hear you. I don’t really do nurturing or warm fuzzies, but I am a fan of reality – so let’s be candid for a moment, shall we?

You don’t suck at this teaching thing.

I mean, it’s possible, I suppose. Some teachers do. But most of the ones who DO suck don’t realize or care that they suck. They certainly don’t read education blogs hoping for insight or inspiration. So it’s very, very unlikely that you suck.

Statistics say, in fact, that you’re probably pretty good. Once you control for poverty and upbringing and factors well-beyond your control, the reality is that most American public school teachers are at least adequate, and many are quite impressive much of the time. If this is your first year, you’re probably not as good as you will be in two more; if this is your twentieth, it’s possible you’ve lost some of the passion of your first fifteen. But overall, I suspect you’re a miracle worker every day and simply don’t see it.

Ridiculous – you’d know if you were any good, right? You’d feel it. You’d… you’d be happier, wouldn’t you?

Maybe. But not necessarily. I’d like to respectfully suggest seven reasons good teachers feel like failures – especially this time of year. Feel free to add your own thoughts below.

1. Your elected leaders despise you.

If you live in Oklahoma, or somewhere similarly enraptured by Social Darwinism and state-subsidized elitism, you’ve already endured years of passive-aggressive chipping away at all you hold dear. Teachers are lazy. Teachers aren’t accountable. Schools are failing. Kids are trapped. Public education is wasteful. It’s atheistic and immoral and corrupting and Socialist. Teachers are incompetent pedophiles and whiney welfare queens.

It’s tiring. You tell yourself it’s just politics, but over time it leaves you feeling a bit marginalized. That’s not you, honey – that’s them.

2. Your values are under assault.

Those principalities and powers don’t just target you, of course. They despise your students for being different colors, coming from different cultures, speaking different languages, having different faiths, or sexualities, or even just different interests and abilities. You decide every day to treat your kids as if their value is innate. You carry on as if all of them deserve opportunity, challenge, enlightenment, and basic dignity – no matter how straight, white, boring, or Protestant you yourself may be. That makes you a problem.

Statistically, the folks next door probably voted against you and your kids. So did most of the people in your small group at church. Most of your students’ parents voted against you and the skills and the knowledge you’re trying to instill in their child so they can function in a diverse and challenging world. It offsets a whole lotta Starbucks gift cards if you let yourself think about it too long.

These are tough times to be a believer in public education. Or the equal value of all men. Or common decency.

But here’s the thing, sweets – the majority is wrong. They’ve let fear and resentment trump the better angels of their nature. Like their forebears a century-and-a-half ago, they think they’ll find strength and clarity in pulling away from what America can and should be. They’ve idealized a past that never existed for most, and at the moment they’re twisting and blaming and striking and rationalizing while you stand there stuck on all-men-are-created-equal and the-pursuit-of-individual-happiness and such. It sets up a glaring national cognitive dissonance, and they resent you for it.

The majority may find their way back, or they may not, but their blindness and thinly-veiled desperation doesn’t make you a bad person or a bad teacher. It makes you a holdout – a rebel, even. It makes you Neville Longbottom, Mal Reynolds, or Piggy insisting on holding the conch shell. It makes you a bringer of light in a fallen world.

They are not the arbiters of suck, I assure you.

3. Kids can be a pain in the @$$.

We’re so often our students’ primary defenders that it leaves us little opportunity to express legitimate frustrations with the little turds when they’re being idiots.

Of course I love my kids and of course I’ll fight for their right to exist and flourish in this murky world. That doesn’t mean they don’t wear me out. That doesn’t mean they’re not complete dillweeds from time to time.

And yet…

18% failed their common assessment; what can YOU do differently? Absenteeism is up; what can YOU do better? Some demographics are being disciplined out of proportion to others; what are YOU doing wrong? How can YOU reach more kids? How can YOU solve more problems? How can YOU meet more needs? What are YOU doing to modernize or personalize or gamify your curriculum? Why did YOU give little Bobo that ‘F’? How can YOU get more parents involved? What are YOU doing about global warming? Nuclear disarmament? World hunger? Transgender issues? That one computer mouse that keeps getting stuck? WHY HAVEN’T YOU FIXED IT ALL YET?!?!

Sometimes your kids suck. Sometimes their parents suck. Sometimes your administration sucks, your state sucks, or the universe sucks, and it makes your day suck.

Obviously, once we’ve acknowledged the things that are OUT of our control, we have a professional and ethical responsibility to consider everything IN our control we could try differently. It’s never OK to just blame the kid, or the parent, or the system, and call it a day.

But that’s different than taking it all on yourself as your fault and your responsibility. If you’re doing all you can reasonably do, then you don’t suck, whatever the outcome.

4. School is stupid.

The setup under which most of us work is antiquated and not at all conducive to individualized learning or going above and beyond pedagogically. Most of you receive students in blocks of time throughout the day with limited resources and no control over who is or isn’t in which clump or what their individual priorities or interests might be.

You keep finding ways to make it work. You keep finding ways to reach as many as you can. When you can’t, it’s not because you suck – it’s because the system simply isn’t set up in a way that benefits most kids individually – it’s set up in the cheapest way possible that still kinda teaches kids in bulk.

5. No one understands what you actually do.

Single people think they know how marriage should work, but they don’t. They can’t; it’s just not possible. And just because I’m married doesn’t mean I understand your marriage. There are too many variables. Too many factors.

People without kids often think they know how they’d handle this or that child in whatever situation, but they don’t. Spawn rarely work the way you think they should, and you can’t return them, so you’re stuck. Being a parent doesn’t make me an expert on your family dynamics or how to best raise your kids; I’m sure you’d have been at a loss what to do with mine.

Teaching is the same way. Everyone thinks they know how it works, or what it’s like, and they don’t. Even other teachers are quick to project their experiences as the universal guide to what everyone else is doing wrong. You can end up feeling very alone if you’re not careful.

6. Teacher Movies.

Movies are pretend. Idealized versions of one slice of reality. Those based on real people are particularly dangerous, as they tend to leave out how badly those folks’ lives crashed and burned as a result of doing whatever it was that made them interesting enough to be in the movies.

Be inspired by pretend teachers all you like, but don’t judge yourself by them. They’re not real. You are, thankfully.

7. Maybe you do actually suck.

I know, I know – I said earlier that you didn’t. But maybe you’ve started to recently. Maybe you’ve gotten tired or frustrated or lazy due to any or all of the things listed above, or any number of other reasons. It happens.

But you don’t have to suck – not going forward. You’ve had the training, you have (or had) the ideals, you know kinda how it’s supposed to work. So fix it. Try something different. Consult trustworthy peers in your building and ask what’s working for them. Find that administrator who’s not a jerk and let them know you’re looking for ways to improve – they LOVE that stuff.

If you’re not going to get better, then get out – go get a real job. It’s not like this one is going to make you rich and fulfilled anytime soon. But if there’s still a spark… well, at the risk of being hokey, these kids need you. Society needs you. The educators around you could probably use a boost as well.

You’re doing the Lord’s work, friend – literally, if that’s your thing, or colloquially if it’s not. Either way, truth has a certain ‘setting people free’ element which is in short supply recently. Knowledge is power, and skills are potential, and you can matter so much if you only decide to.

Lots of things suck about this fallen world, but you don’t have to. And you probably don’t.

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Let’s Talk About #EdCamp…

February 15, 2017June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 1 Comment

Disclaimer: I’ve only been to two #EdCamps ever. I don’t work for #EdCamp (does anyone “work” for #EdCamp?), I’ve not organized or sponsored one, etc. I just… show up and participate. Like normal people. Or teachers.

But I confess that I do loves me some #EdCamp. Given how much negative and/or tedious stuff is swirling about these days (much of it by my own hand), I thought I might celebrate something good in the edu-world.

Yeah, don’t get used to it.

1. #EdCamp is voluntary.

I realize that a certain amount of PD is required each year and that there are reasons for that. As someone who’s both led and attended more hours than I can count, however, I assure you there’s simply no comparison between a group required to be somewhere and a group who’s chosen to be that same somewhere.

That’s why large districts who consider hosting their own internal #EdCamp – or some variation thereof – are doomed to—

Wait. Let me put that more optimistically…

Districts who consider hosting their own internal #EdCamp or some variation thereof face substantial hurdles to their success. You can’t mandate 500 teachers’ willingness and enthusiasm – and that’s a big part of what drives any #EdCamp.

It’s energizing.

2. #EdCamp is decentralized.

Yes, someone has to organize some logistics. There’s a venue. There are sponsors so we can have lunch. Registration to manage numbers. Announcements and help for those who need it. All good things.

But the substance of each #EdCamp is in the hands of participating teachers.

The logistics may vary, but the day’s agenda is generally compiled after everyone arrives. Participants indicate on cards, phone apps, or chart paper taped along the wall, what they’d be interested in learning, or discussing, or leading, or facilitating. Organizers fling this into the available time slots and spaces, and by the time the local drill team or jazz band is done with their complimentary performance or whatever, we have a schedule.

Turns out that willing educators are perfectly capable of working out all sorts of things for themselves if given half an opportunity. You’d never have guessed that from the 89,726 pages of regulations and statutes governing our every potty break during the school day.

3. #EdCamp is libertarian.

Well, sort of.

Participants attend any session that sounds interesting to them. Most are discussion-driven rather than traditionally “led;” facilitated or hosted more than taught. A strong leader draws more people into the discussion rather than having the most to say him or herself.

You can stay put for the full session, or wander in when you’re ready. You can leave when you choose, and it’s not personal. It’s not offensive. No one asks why. Some sessions are large and vocal and others are smaller and more intimate. Some work really well, and others just kinda limp along.

But it’s all OK. Most are at least somewhat beneficial to those involved. All of them are freeing, and refreshing. It may seem counterintuitive, but in this setting at least, less structure generally results in more learning. More stretching. More peer-to-peer challenging.

Did I mention that #EdCamps are energizing?

4. #EdCamp is transparent and social media-ized.

I’m not one to believe that everything’s better with #EdTech. I adore and respect many who do, however, and during an #EdCamp, I kinda get why.

Rather than social media being a distraction, live-tweeting or otherwise sharing the day as it unfolds is both encouraged and enjoyed. Sponsors are thanked and promoted. Good discussions or insights in individual sessions are captured and distributed. Conversations evolve naturally both in person and online.

Don’t worry, Luddites – there’s still far more face-to-face love shared than I’ve experienced at any other kind of edu-vent. Social media in this context supports and simplifies human interaction – almost like that’s what it was meant to do in the first place.

Oh – I almost forget to mention how energi—

What? I did? Are you sure?

Huh. Well, it is.

5. All the best people go to #EdCamp.

I know, I know – but I put off the elitist, self-serving element as long as I could.

I LOVE the quality of people who show up at an #EdCamp. Folks I adore online, leaders I know only by reputation, teachers on whom I’ve had semi-secret edu-crushes for months or years… they all seem to show up at these things ready to get pedagogical.

I’m not sure that’s by design – everyone is welcome. It just seems to work out that way. Don’t tell anyone – I don’t want to ruin it.

I told you this was the elitist, self-serving part.

6. #EdCamp is free.

I don’t mind paying for something when it’s a good use of my limited funds.

But I don’t mind not paying for it, either. And there’s lunch.

7. #EdCamp is soon.

March 4th, Del City High School, 1900 S Sunnylane Rd, Oklahoma City, OK 73115.

http://www.edcampokc.org/

I’m giddy. Can you tell?

Ten Truths For The Overwhelmed Student

November 23, 2016June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 2 Comments

I hear you’re feeling a bit overwhelmed with school – and maybe with life, too. Fortunately, I’m old and wise, and maybe I can help.

Normally I’d start by asking you what’s on your mind, or what you think is causing your difficulties. Being as how this is a blog, however, and a bit… one-directional, I’ll just skip to the wisdom and insight. It applies most of the time anyway.

One. You have GOT to BREATHE.

Long and deep, in through the nose… out through the mouth – good. A few more times…

No, don’t just read on – this stuff doesn’t work if you don’t do it. DO THE BREATHING, then listen to me.

Two. You’re not stupid.

I don’t know if you’re a genius or not, but genius isn’t necessary here. I assure you, if you were stupid, your teacher would be nicer to you. He or she would have called you aside long ago and had a conversation something like this:

“Hey, um… Marcia. Look, I have some bad news. You’re too stupid for this class. It’s OK – it’s not your fault, Probably some combination of genetics and upbringing. BUT, we’re gonna need to get you into a slow kids class, OK?”

If that didn’t happen, you’re good.

Besides, here’s the crazy thing – feeling stupid usually indicates that you’re not.

There are studies and science for this, but if you were great at researching stuff we wouldn’t be having this conversation, so I’ll skip them. The short version is that smart people are far more aware of how much they don’t know and can’t do; ignorant people feel pretty good about their insights and expertise in every possible area. Sometimes they even win high political office on moxy alone.

Another part of the issue is that you’re one of the “good kids.” You mostly hang out with other “good kids,” so brilliant seems normal and above average seems dumb. In any NBA locker room, there’s one guy who’s shorter than the rest of the team. They’re all 6’8″ or 7’2″ or whatever, and he’s 6’4″ – still freakishly tall, but perpetually feeling like a midget. You’re not a midget – you just have good tastes in friends.

So do they, by the way.

Three. You’re not alone.

Sure, there are a number of your peers for whom school is much easier than it is for you. That’s OK – everyone’s different. Most of the folks around you, though, are just putting up a good front – many just as panicked as you.

I know because I’ve had this same conversation often enough to make a blog post out of it. No offense, but I wouldn’t do this for just you. Too much work.

Four. Shut yourself up.

I suppose you could take this literally, as in “find a quiet place” – which is also good advice. But here I mean inner-dialogue-wise.

Remember the old cartoons with the AngelYou and the DevilYou on opposite shoulders? Contrary to what you might think, DevilYou isn’t primarily focused on trying to get you to rob banks or do crack. Those aren’t legitimate temptations for you – you’re a “good kid,” remember?

It IS, however, willing to maintain a constant stream of deprecation and frustration, running in the background of everything you think, feel, say, or do. Details vary with personal insecurities, but whether it’s despair, rage, detached cynicism, or simple self-doubt, it usually begins with tearing off little strips of you and pretending that’s the cost of being “honest” with yourself.

It’s lying to you.

You can’t kill it or completely mute it – it’s you, after all – but you can recognize it and turn it down. Assign AngelYou to keep it in check. Quietly if possible, but out loud if necessary. Seriously – talk to yourself, realistically but positively. It’s good for you.

You can be honest about your strengths and weaknesses without so much self-loathing. I promise.

Five. Get a planner or agenda of some sort.

Mundane, right?

They work, but you have to use them. Starting TODAY, every hour, jot down what you did in class and what’s assigned and when it’s due. I know you think you’ll remember, but we’re having this conversation, so obviously…

Set your phone alarm to remind you at least twice each day – once around the time you get home from school and once several hours before you go to bed – to look at your planner. Read through it even if you don’t stop and do everything right then.

Anything that doesn’t get done gets copied onto the next day, and so on, until you do it. Continue this system even when you don’t think you need to – new habits take time.

Six. Choose a few things that won’t take long, do them, and cross them off.

If you do something that needs doing but wasn’t on the list, write it down, then cross it off. I realize it might sound silly, but – just trust me on this. It’s a “track record of success” thing. And it helps.

This next one is huge. Are you still with me?

Seven. When you’re doing a thing, do that thing.

If you decide to read an assigned book for twenty minutes, set aside that voice panicking about chemistry homework. While you’re doing your math, stop getting on your phone to “collaborate” on that English project. Pick something, and do it. No second-guessing.

One task at a time. That’s the most you can do, ever.

It’s easy to run from worry to worry until you end up exhausted and frustrated without actually getting much done. One of the greatest hindrances to completing anything is worrying about all the other stuff you suddenly fear you should be doing instead.

That’s a trap and a lie. Shut it off and choose something – right or wrong. Do it exclusively, and as well as possible.

Eight. When you’re working, work.

When you’re reading, read.

When you’re thinking, think.

Put the phone far, far away. Whatever amazing things unfold in the 20 minutes it takes to finish your calculus will still be there waiting for you when you take a break.

When you’re taking a break, take a break. Set a time limit and don’t keep finding reasons to go past it, but don’t keep worrying about what you’re not getting done.

And move around a little – it’s good for you emotionally and mentally as much as physically.

Side Note: Social power never comes from being perpetually or instantly available. Even if it’s not your intention to dangle your approval over others, delayed response time raises your standing in direct correlation to how long you let them wait.

Think of the times you’ve waited for someone to respond to you. Who holds the power in those situations?

Nine. Start the big hard stuff early.

Even if you do something else first, do the bad thing next. Leave time to be confused, ask questions, or start wrong.

Human nature is to put off the stuff we don’t fully understand and to avoid thinking about that which we most dread. Suddenly it’s midnight and everything is due and you’re so totally screwed and it all breaks down.

Again.

What’s wrong with you? WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID?

That’s DevilYou, by the way. Didn’t you assign AngelYou to reign her in?

Ten. Do the parts you can do.

Do everything you can do, even if you’re not sure of all of it. Then ask for help with what you can’t.

Read the directions – for real, this time. Call a friend. Actually read the material, take the notes, watch the videos, or try the activities. You’d be surprised how often a student thinks they’re confused when really they just haven’t done the work.

I mean, ideally there’s a reason we assign it. If you knew how to do it already, we’d just be wasting your time. It’s supposed to be hard.

When you’ve done the parts you can, THEN email or visit with your teacher. Otherwise we get this:

“I don’t get this.”
(What part don’t you get?)
“Any of it.”
(*sigh*)

Not effective. This, on the other hand…

“Mrs. _____, I have a question. I read this thing here and did this part here, and I notice in your example you indicate such and such. When I tried that, I had trouble figuring out ______________”

That I can work with. Makes it sound like you’re not just wandering around in a daze, waiting for a miracle.

Conclusion: It’s OK that it’s hard sometimes. Other times, it’s not nearly as hard as you make it. Try to separate your emotions from your thoughts from your abilities, and don’t get so derailed by what you WISH your teachers said or did differently. They didn’t, and they probably won’t, so work with what you’ve got.

I promise you, you can do this. If I can understand it, ANYBODY can.

{This Post is Recycled – Reworked from a Previous Version and Reposted In It’s Updated Glory}

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