Teachers Are Weird

October 7, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 1 Comment

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It should probably come as no surprise that most teachers are a little weird.

We work for relatively little money in a sporadic and unpredictable flux of appreciation and condemnation, trying to teach Enlightenment values and curriculum to youngsters who rarely seek or appreciate the knowledge we impart – and we LIKE it.

It’s unusual to find a particularly gifted teacher who isn’t noticeably dysfunctional in some essentially related way. Many of the best supplement their sincere drive to reach broken children and save academic souls with a desperate inner need to prove to their own doubts and insecurities that they are, in fact, tolerably swell at this intellectual (and yet holy) calling. Recurring bouts with self-loathing make bountiful fuel for late-night lesson planning and weekend grading marathons, and there’s nothing like constant second-guessing of oneself to promote patience and flexibility with all sorts of teen falderal.

Similar irrationalities lead many of us into an unspoken conviction that not only are we humble martyrs taking a bludgeoning for the future, but that in so doing we’re making a daily decision to refute the sorts of lofty, respected, and embarrassingly profitable gigs to which lesser beings have succumbed. As if at any moment, we could in a moment of weakness or rebellion cast off our dry-erase markers and group discussion rubrics and take up that executive position at Microsoft, accept that endowed chair at Cambridge, or go on that book tour for the novel we’ve so selflessly never gotten around to writing.

But no! Instead, today we will again set all of that aside to TEACH!

What? Oh, er… And to monitor at the pep assembly! And collect those home language surveys the state requires of the SAME families every year as if they’ll get tricky one day and switch up their home language just to screw with us!

We vent endlessly about the attitudes of our students, the blind bureaucracy of our superiors, and the suffocating pampering of parents determined to permanently cripple their young, then get giddy when struck by some odd new idea how we might better connect with that weird kid who we’re pretty sure keeps writing “c***sucker” on our mouse pad.

We condemn pointless torture of children over minutiae when the state requires it, but take great pride in not letting them go pee for asking ‘can I’ instead of ‘may I’. In the first case we’re defending their right to grow up at their own pace and find their own way towards becoming their own unique person; in the second we’re holding the line because there are proper ways to say and do things and they just need to learn dammit.

Our intentions are noble both times.

We’re endlessly committed to the emotional and intellectual growth of young people we didn’t raise, can’t realistically control, and with whom we cannot ethically or legally mingle beyond the confines of school functions. We derive immense satisfaction and fulfillment from relationships in which strong, clear boundaries are the defining, terrifying feature, and in which any realization we ‘need it’ or even ‘like it’ casts immediate aspersions on our motivations, maturity, and emotional health.

We resent criticism from the community, reject the faux-accountability efforts of lawmakers, and bristle at student complaints regarding our pedagogy or expectations, then fill Twitter and our edu-blogs with condemnations of anyone doing things differently than us, lamenting their lack of accountability, and figuring if they had merit at all, their students would seem much happier and self-motivated.

We clamor to be treated like professionals but deluge our administrators with dilemmas and complaints better suited for kindergarten playgrounds. We retweet clever graphics proving we all work 120-150 hours a week and if we were paid babysitter’s wages we’d be millionaires, then take eleven ‘mental health days’ a semester without leaving sub plans – all with far less guilt than when the new lesson we tried didn’t go as well first period as it did third period after we changed that one part and why-does-first-hour-always-get-shortchanged-I-suck-so-bad…

If we do our job well, most of our kids will cease to need us at all. If we’re especially successful in our efforts outside of class, our profession will rapidly cease looking like anything currently familiar. A real burst of progress could render us suddenly obsolete. But not really. Well, maybe. Oh god, could it, you think?

It’s bizarre if we think about it too closely, so we don’t. Teachers tend to drink a great deal, or binge-watch trashy TV shows.

Our coaches spend an additional 173 hours a week coaxing a hundred kids at a time to at least break a sweat in their quest to become the next Lebron James or the new Tom Brady.

They drive team busses to towns with names like “Crack’s Flat” and upon returning watch hours of game film – GAME FILM – of bewildered 13-year olds running around butchering the holy name of football. They referee little league games throughout 108 degree weekends so their OWN kids can play – adding these proceeds to the eleven cents an hour windfall they enjoy for coaching.

A select few educators decide that even the occasional moments of enlightenment or rapport shared with their students is simply too much fulfillment for one individual to deserve, and nail themselves to the absurdity-laden cross of a degree in public school administration. This allows them to deal almost exclusively with the worst-behaved, highest maintenance elements of the school population – after which they try to fit in STUDENT discipline issues as well.

They commit themselves to innumerable evening activities and a steady stream of only those parents unhappy enough to call THEM instead of whichever teacher is ruining their child for life THIS time. They sacrifice any remaining energy enduring interminable meetings with folks carrying longer titles but much shorter job descriptions, then hurry back to catch that one long-term sub and explain yet again why the lesson plans the pregnant teacher left really ARE a pretty good idea to follow – or at least try – please just this once – oh god don’t make me find yet another warm body…

For this we rebrand them as ‘Instructional Leaders’ without the slightest intention of cruel irony. They let it slide because they know someone has to throw themselves into the barrage if their teachers and students are to have the slightest chance.

And they do. God bless them, the good ones do.

So yeah, we get a little too anal about following the rules exactly during our Academic Team competitions, and the signs we make for our annual protests get a little snarky and rely too heavily on lame puns. We tend to get homely and fat and careless about proper hair care, and we chant and cheer for the most awkward things – often badly.

We’re cynical and bitter, but still ‘retweet’ and ‘share’ sappy motivational edu-memes much too freely. Waaayyyyy too many of us are still excited by the idea of test reviews via Jeopardy on the Smartboard or playing that Billy Joel song about not lighting Marilyn Monroe on fire.

We’ll trade our biological young for free notepads, and we grab extras we don’t even need, telling ourselves they’re in some way ‘for the children’.

We always want donuts.

You’ll have no trouble finding far less needy, frustrating, bewildering adults in the professional realm, should you wish to look. But they won’t be lined up at your door, clamoring to teach.

Because teachers are weird.

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Why Kids Learn (a.k.a ‘The Seven Reasons Every Teacher Must Know WHY Kids Learn!’)

September 16, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 2 Comments

I’ve been in the classroom for 16 years and doing this blog for about 18 months. I don’t have a Master’s Degree in anything, nor am I pursuing one. I don’t like most edu-books and haven’t done independent research on how or why kids learn or don’t. I consider myself thus supremely qualified to write on this topic.

There will be no footnotes.

There are 7 Basic Reasons Kids Learn. I number them to increase clicks to this post and to lend artificial credibility to what is essentially an opinion piece.

1. They Learn Accidentally

Kids learn while playing, or while caught up in other things. Everything from blocks and unstructured time as a little person through video games or online arguments as a teen – information, good or bad, is created, encountered, or absorbed. This one is so very important and can be crazy effective – but it’s the one most threatened by the Cult of Assessment and our own unwillingness to Defy the Beast.

It also gets trickier to create these opportunities intentionally as students get older.

2. They Learn From Family & Loved Ones

We all know the value of parents reading to their children. In a perfect world they take them to museums or musical performances, or travel places promoting conversation and reflection. How many times a day does a parent or sibling overtly attempt to explain a ‘why’ or a ‘how’ to a little kid?

But they learn all sorts of other things as well – attitudes towards authority, or learning, or society. How to solve problems (in good ways or bad). What matters and what doesn’t. Where they fit in the world.

What they’re worth as an individual.

This is the stuff we’re quick to bring up when people start blaming teachers for everything, and probably the biggest factor shaping what a child KNOWS and who he or she IS over which we have almost no control.

We also go to it as a cop-out when our calling becomes difficult. Sorry, educators – but it’s true.

3. They Learn Because They Like The Subject

This is the ideal. Those kids who keep wanting to know if they can leave your class to go finish something in Engineering? They tend to get good at engineering. That girl who reads voraciously? She tends to get pretty good at reading. And don’t get me started about young people truly devoted to their choir, marching band, baseball team, or speech & debate.

Booyah.

Of course, we have almost no control over this going into a new year. And it’s easy to ruin this passion even in the best of them if we’re not careful – which is terrifying. But still we try to nudge and ignite and encourage, right?

Wait – we DO try to fan these embers, YES?! Hello?

4. They Learn Because They Like The Teacher or Peer Group

I have mixed feelings about this one.

There are students who find me far more entertaining and caring than my friends and loved ones can fathom, based on what they know of me in my other, supposedly ‘real’ life. Because of this, these students will often attempt things they wouldn’t otherwise try – books out of their comfort zone, writing until their hands hurt, talking through a skill AGAIN so that I can give them full credit.

They will play school because of all the love and acceptance flying around, just like in those horrible motivational memes and Garfield posters. “They don’t care how much you know…”

At the same time, I worry this won’t transition to the next teacher they get, who may be perfectly adequate, but to whom they don’t feel the same connection. I don’t want them to be good at my class (and let it stop there) – I want them to get better at being learners, no matter what the circumstances or personalities involved. I want them to become better versions of themselves.

I know, I know – but I’m idealistic and delusional that way. Shut up.

5. They Learn Because Of Grades / Fear / Pressure / Rewards

This may begin from above – parents, or even the school system itself – but often becomes internalized. Either way, this is a stress-driven type of learning with little lasting value.

It might be about staying eligible for band or sports or whatever they’re into and like. It’s often about a sense of survival, and ‘getting through’. Sometimes it’s also about college acceptance, parental approval, career success, or other specific stressors – other times it’s more panophobic. They couldn’t say exactly why, but face a consuming terror of veering off the assigned path.

I did informal surveys of many of my best students last semester, and discovered that these ‘best’ kids in terms of grades, behavior, organization, and personal responsibility, almost universally hated or at least disliked everything about their school day. A few had one teacher or subject they found tolerable, and most had activities or extra-curriculars in which they found fulfillment, but the bulk of each day and long hours into each night were have to, have to, have to.

It was all about the grades. The future. The system. The idea that there would be anything of value to be learned along the way they found… quaint. Of course they resisted being quite so blunt, being the ‘good kids’ and all – you don’t have 104% in every class by proudly slandering the system.

But learning and loving and new worlds of ideas weren’t really factors. If anything, those would be distractions to winning at the game.

6. They Learn Because of Long-Term Goals

This one is pretty rare if you eliminate the vague terrors in play above. There are a few, however, who are specifically chasing a degree in veterinary medicine, motorcycle repair, or that study abroad opportunity in Monaco. They press on because they know what they want.

At least, they think they do – which for our purposes works just as well.

On the one hand, these kids aren’t necessarily driven by a love of learning… on the other, though, they are at least self-motivated, making the learning they accept as necessary a bit richer and more meaningful.

7. They Learn Against Their Will

If you torture them enough, confine them in stale rooms and badger them into compliance…

If you test them repeatedly, then pull their electives, their after school time, their freedom to sit with their friends at lunch, until they pass…

If you manage through attrition to wear away or cripple enough about themselves they’d otherwise find meaningful, strong, beautiful, or useful…

If you constantly elevate those who comply, who understand, who feel and think as we demand, and denigrate those who can’t – or who for whatever reason won’t…

They may eventually give you enough to count as learning. They may remember enough to secure their release from the system. They may even move on to the next round of ‘education’.

But they’ll never forgive you, or the system, or those who participated in the process. You know why?

Because they’ve learned.

Learning R.E.M.

September 15, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 2 Comments

I had a rather sheltered childhood.

I grew up listening to K-Tel Goofy Greats and Wacky Westerns albums, along with a few Kristy & Jimmy McNichol records and a rather extensive Osmonds collection. For me, “Crazy Horses” was just about as intense as it got. *weeooowwwww* *weeooowwwww*

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Eventually, in a period of angsty rebellion, I turned to local rock radio and discovered Supertramp, Foreigner, and Fleetwood Mac. Once again, I thought I’d peaked in ‘whoah.’ I owned Pink Floyd’s The Wall on vinyl, cassette, and 8-track; to this day can probably sing every line, badly and melodramatically, while waiting for the worms to come.

When the 80’s struck, music got weird. Driving around hearing “Safety Dance” and “She Blinded Me With Science” proved beyond any doubt I lived in an age of wonders and limitless possibilities. MTV introduced me to The Cure, Hunters & Collectors, The Bolshoi, and Mojo Nixon. I was as alternative as an immature, overly-sheltered geek could be without leaving his bedroom in the days before internet.

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And then I met Sandra. We worked part-time at the same department store, although she sold ladies’ undergarments while I vacuumed and emptied trash. Sandra was the single coolest most knowledgeable underground alterna-chick I’d ever seen. I wanted more than anything to have some sort of cred with her.

She’d lived on her own for years and frequented the local music scene, while I lived at home and practiced the bass. When she asked what kind of music I liked, I took it as the highest form flattery and perhaps – oh hell, was this some sort of test? An initiation ritual?!

“Um… the Go-Gos, I guess…” (I knew a total of two Go-Gos songs, which I did genuinely like. Mostly, though, they were an all-girl group – not so common then – and I was playing the odds this might work in my favor.)

“Yeah!” she said with what seemed to be not-entirely-forced enthusiasm. “I loved them before they were signed. Have you heard their indie stuff?”

I didn’t know there was ‘indie stuff’.

I later learned that while in this case Sandra was being completely sincere, this basic assertion was a great fallback for discussing any artist in mixed company…

“So, you into Death Cab For Cutie?”
“Sure – although I loved their early stuff better.”

This could be varied in intensity, depending on what you were going for…

“You like Cold War Kids?”
“Yeah, but they were so much better before the big record deal. Have you heard their indie stuff?”

Or, if you’re feeling particularly feisty…

“Have you heard the latest One Direction?”
“Bah. They were better before they sold out to the machine and signed with that big label. Their indie stuff was awesome.”

Ultimate dis. Automatic indie music cred.

Sandra’s favorite band was, she insisted, The. Best. Band. Ever. OhmygodseriouslyhowcanyounotLOVEthem?!

Also known as R.E.M.

Needless to say, it was off to the local record store to grab some new cassettes. Life’s Rich Pageant and Fables of the Reconstruction played in my car for two days straight. I was committed.

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The problem was… I didn’t get it.

At all.

I didn’t hate it – but I didn’t really understand this… this… strange new music.

The lyrics never seemed to actually MEAN anything, even on those rare occasions I could tell what the hell Michael Stipe was singing. And I was COMPLETELY lost as to what they were going for musically. I didn’t… I mean… it’s just…

I didn’t really like it very much.

At the same time, I’d never had anyone so worldly, so knowledgeable, so damn cool, take a real interest in my thoughts and opinions about ANY music before. Even my guitar teacher when I was a kid shook his head in patient dismay every time I’d bring a recording of some Shaun Cassidy tune I wanted to learn – and my parents were PAYING him to like me.

So I listened, and I tried to ‘get it’. Enough to say something intelligent about it to Sandra, at least.

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Eventually I realized there were tracks I liked more than others. I came to accept that they called on a ridiculous variety of emotions, conveyed by strings of words I didn’t fully understand on a literal level – and that this was all apparently quite intentional.

Go figure.

And I remember when it registered that some of the most intense tracks were, well… slow. And pretty. But NOT ballads. I didn’t know that was even possible. I thought “slow and pretty” equaled “ballad” by definition. But not here. Not these.

R.E.M. was writing about strangely familiar experiences in enigmatic ways and with a more complex humanity than I was prepared to understand. They used their words and their instruments very differently from either ‘classic rock’ OR the Osmonds, and it wasn’t easy to get my brain around.

Partly I simply lacked the exposure and intellect to be easily reached by their art; mostly I lacked the motivation – until other considerations nudged me through.

I don’t know when it stopped being for Sandra and started being because I genuinely loved it, but it happened. By the time R.E.M. was scoring radio time and having ‘hits’, I was almost developed enough to be mildly disappointed they’d be remembered for “The One I Love” rather than, you know – the cool stuff.

“R.E.M.? Yeah, ‘Stand’ is catchy… fun video – but I really like their older material, before they got popular…”

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There’s nothing wrong with choice, or some degree of autonomy, even for the young and uninformed. And, to be fair, those of us in academia have a reputation for sometimes being a bit… elitist about the things we think are important and the knowledge we consider, well… legit.

Valuable.

Essential.

Worthy.

But even setting pretense aside, SOME STUFF IS BETTER THAN OTHER STUFF. We can debate specifics, but the idea that some history is more essential than other history, some science more useful than other science, etc., isn’t so very controversial, is it?

You’re welcome to enjoy Twilight, but it’s not great literature. Lord of the Flies IS, even if you don’t fully ‘get it’ or like it right away. The History of Alien Sex-Abduction may be a legitimate topic to pursue, but with all due respect to the History Channel, a basic understanding of the Progressive Era is probably a better use of time and resources. Even math is –

Well, I’m sure math is good, too. Right?

How #amazeballs would it be if we could be Sandras? Validate our students’ understanding of the world, accept their paradigms regarding what is or isn’t worth knowing about it, or pursuing in it, and yet… find non-punitive ways to woo them towards parts of OUR canon as well? The stuff WE KNOW is… bigger? Valuable? Essential? Worthy?

They may need help learning the language of new subjects, the logic of new ideas, but they’re quite capable. I’d like to think they may occasionally discover they like some of it – maybe even want more.

First, though, we must somehow earn their interest – to persuade them it’s worth the struggle. We must give them a reason to try our R.E.M. – whatever that may be.

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Karmapologies

September 10, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 3 Comments

I’d like to officially apologize to every teacher who, over the past four or five years, has complained to me about ‘helicopter parents’ or told wild stories about crazy student family members swooping in to make everything dramatic and difficult – often at great expense not only to the blood pressure of the involved teachers, but to the long-term well-being of the students themselves.

I was always sympathetic, and outraged in unity with thee. I was intellectually well-aware that there but for the grace of Horace Mann went I.

But on some level, deep down, in ways I’d never admit aloud, I’d often smile with thankfulness that I was somehow avoiding such problems. I was glad I was a bit more flexible with parents, or perhaps simply more personable. I was – dare I say – smug that when the students just loved me SO much, those sorts of issues tended to resolve themselves.

Oh what a fool. What a vain, idiotic, foolishly foolish fool I was. I’m so sorry.

Because Karma is a twisted and patient b*tch. It has waited all these years, letting me build confidence, and comfort, and a certain puffed-up brashness. Even as I fought on some level to overcome such buried thoughts with the knowledge that mostly I’ve just been lucky, Karma was not fooled. I was taking credit for how my students’ parents and other looming parties-of-interest were and weren’t behaving. I was letting pride come before a pretty substantial Fall (as it were).

In short, I was karmically asking for it.

Well, it’s here.

Two and a half weeks of class, eight assignments in the grade book, every single one of them currently redoable, replaceable, or otherwise redeemable at no penalty, daily reminders, notes on the board, and a class website replete with copies of everything in two different places and reminders of everything worth reminding of, and OH MY GOD WHAT AM I DOING TO THEIR CHILDREN?!?

*sigh*

We’re closer to a dozen parent emails so far than a hundred, and most are panicky and flustered more than actually angry – yet. But I’ve NEVER experienced this sort of frenetic concern, laced with just enough accusation and annoyance to give them edge. Of greater concern are the expressions of confusion – bewilderment – SHOCK – at why their children don’t have better grades they need a better grade they’ve ALWAYS had better grades why am I making their children so confused and helpless and crushing their spirits WHY DO YOU HATE AMERICA?!?

It’s tricky to explain without sounding frustrated or hostile that I am, actually, going to some length to begin nudging their child towards young adulthood – some early modicum of personal responsibility.

I am not, in fact, demaning flawless intellect or academic greatness, but rather, I am begging them to notice that between what’s in the syllabus they signed, written on the board every day, what I say every day, and what’s on the class website in at least two places, none of which changes quickly, there are things we try to do in class to make it, um… educational.

Whereas I’m asking their child to do at most ONE version of any given assignment, I’m creating in most cases at least THREE versions in hopes of reaching as many of them as possible, and offering as many redos as I can stomach before mandatory retirement in about 20 years.

I’m not sure what more to do short of nightly home visits or full body tattoos – perhaps done in reversed text so they can read them in the mirror before bathing.

I am not intentionally sarcastic when asked what their darling could do to improve their grade, and the only accurate response available is “their work?” Can they have extra credit? Well, no – not in the way you mean. By definition, in order to have ‘extra credit’, one must first have ‘credit’. You would not order a pizza with NO CHEESE, but with EXTRA CHEESE – the net result would simply be ‘cheese’. So no, they cannot NOT do the work, then do EXTRA work to make up for it. What they CAN do, though, is the WORK.

I should be more sympathetic. These poor parents who seem to have virtually unlimited time to email and call me repeatedly (on behalf of a child who has yet to speak to me willingly, even when I attempt to initiate) are clearly far too busy to read the syllabus they signed, look at the class website for which I’ve neglected my world-famous blog, or otherwise consider the possibility that the same kid they can’t get to clean up their room, take out the trash, or provide any coherent reason WHY he or she remains bewildered or resentful of consistent, clear expectations at home, might not be the fearless academic angel portrayed – thwarted daily only by THAT ONE HISTORY TEACHER who stays in the profession to crush the future, hate children, and undercut the American Dream.

My friends, peers, and cohorts, forgive me. I never meant to judge you, but I fear that is exactly what I’ve done.

Don’t worry, though – Karma is taking vengeance on your behalf. It’s like she –

Sorry, have to cut this one short. I have some parent emails piling up, and my phone is ringing.

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Dolph & Lana Break The Rules

September 9, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 1 Comment

I don’t like very many people.

Well, that’s not entirely true – I like most people… in small doses. At a distance. At the right times. For a bit. I’m the guy in staff PD who took the personality test and ended up at a table by myself on the far end of the media center with 117 peers assuming I must have lied on the questionnaire because I seem nicer than that.

But among the small circle of folks of whom I cannot tire and who energize me just by sharing the room is a friend from way back in middle school and his stunning wife. I’ll call them Dolph and Lana for reasons likely amusing only to me.

Both did fine in high school – one public and one private – and graduated easily. Dolph has a degree in journalism and a photographic memory, while Lana holds a ‘music ministry’ license she doesn’t like to talk about. But neither are committed to what I used to think of as ‘normal’ careers. They don’t have ‘real jobs’.

Don’t get me wrong – they’re not unemployed. They don’t require public assistance or loans from family and friends. They’re one of the more fiscally responsible couples I know, even managing periodic vacations and rather enigmatic social lives.

Oh, and they have a two-year-old, who almost makes me like kids. We’ll call him Hogarth.

Dolph is a musician, a painter, a freelance writer, and a producer. Occasionally he’s a graphic designer. I know, I know – these are collectively often used as euphemisms for “deadbeat”, but I assure you, he works long hours at a variety of things, all of which he’s ridiculously good at and mostly enjoys.

He’s also one of the most involved fathers I’ve known in this life. It’s weird.

Aside from his actual family, there’s nothing Dolph loves more than the endless hours spent crafting his original songs into reality and posting them essentially for free on Spotify or other outlets. Considering how insanely talented he is (I blame an imbalanced universe unconcerned with equity), it’s surprising how many hours this consumes to do well.

Those hours, however, pay very little, so he also applies his talents to producing music for others – which is rewarding in its own way, but still actual work. It’s not always fun, and it’s not usually easy. He plays in a local cover band doing music he doesn’t always like for crowds which aren’t always appreciative. This is the musician equivalent of a ‘day job’ – it pays the bills while still keeping you near your chosen craft and first love. He writes for periodicals which aren’t always reasonable about events he wouldn’t otherwise attend or people with whom he wouldn’t necessarily choose to spend his free hours – because that’s how ‘work’ works.

Turns out even in the world of live music, painting, or writing, there’s an element of ‘grit’ and self-management required in order to thrive. One must be organized. Responsible. Creative, but rational. Able to communicate and to truly appreciate other points of view. To go around the leaf.

But he does it, and he does most of it really well. In the process, he hones and stretches skills he applies to the stuff he loves. He takes care of his family, provides for them comfortably, and still lacks what I used to think of as ‘a real job’. More on that in a bit.

Lana has been preoccupied with the lad Hogarth lately, but she too is a mashup of surprising talents. She paints, sings, and co-taught at one of the high-end private schools in these parts until the little person came along. You know those rare people who can explore the world of high-end teas or local sushi trucks and fill you in without making you feel stupid or proletariat about it? That’s Lana. Any suggestions she’s particularly gracious or sophisticated prompts pshaw-ery and eye-rolling.

She doesn’t see it. She’s just doing what people do, right?

She currently works at home for a media company promoting independent film projects and other specialized artsy fartsy things. I not actually sure whether this is an innovative approach targeting enigmatic tastes and interests, or if she just manipulates us on Facebook for a living. No matter – I adore them both, and they’re incapable of ever being truly evil.

None of what they do involves Algebra II, or Oklahoma History, or success on standardized exams. Some of their ELA classes may have been useful to a degree, and a few extra-curriculars stir fond memories, but by and large I’m not sure high school offered either of them much of substance – even though they both conquered it easily.

Dolph and Lana have found a way to do what they love for a living, not as part of that small sliver of the mega-successful covered by TMZ or E! or populating magazines in the checkout aisle, but as normal people who refuse to accept the unspoken ‘rules’ inculcated by public education, most universities, and society in general.

They’re not standardized. They’re not career-oriented. They’re not perpetually preparing for whatever’s coming NEXT. While they have a quirky diversity of interests and tastes, they rarely put in time or effort mastering subjects they couldn’t possibly care about. Their work ethic is unimpeachable, but both have passed up fiscal progress in order to live where they’re happy TODAY, and do that about which they’re passionate NOW.

In short, they’re doing everything completely wrong.

And yet, by any meaningful definition, they are wildly successful. Happy. Interesting. Useful to themselves, their families, and their friends. Giving back to their culture, their community, and contributing to the economy.

Crazy fun to be around. I don’t even know what we DO most evenings we’re together. They just… happen.

Not wealthy, certainly, but hardly impoverished. Not famous, but beloved – they know everyone, everywhere, and it’s ridiculous how many people want to be their bestest friend evers. I’m telling you, it’s weird to watch.

I’m not sure how you teach that, but I’m pretty sure it’s not the way we’re doing it now. I don’t know that it requires abandoning traditional subjects entirely, or burning every last textbook and desk. But I respectfully suggest that Dolph, Lana, and Hogarth are not outliers. They’re better at real life than most, but they’re not freak-of-nature unique.

How many responsible, happy, fulfilled and fulfilling adults find their ways in spite of rather than because of the bizarre endurance test we call high school? How many of those who succumb to our system grow old endlessly chasing that elusive point at which they’ll be allowed to enjoy or care about what they’re doing NOW?

I’m sure I don’t have an easy or clear solution, but before we continue our efforts to go faster and further down the road of #edreform or ‘excellence’, perhaps we’d do well to check our GPS and clarify exactly where it is we’re hoping our students will go. Personally, I’d trade most test scores, a ton of future earnings potential, and a healthy slice of ‘college & career readiness’ for a few more Dolphs and Lanas.

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