Play That Funky Music (7 Steps Of Professional Growth)

March 11, 2017June 23, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

My ELA comrades are fond of discussing ‘universal themes’ and ‘common plots’ in literature and in life. I can’t speak to every book ever written, but I will confess I have a much better idea of who’s going to die and who’s going to betray the hero in any decent sci-fi or superhero movie now that I’ve sat in on a few literature classes.

In a similar way, our personal journeys often share common elements. That’s why disparate support groups can build their discussions around the same 12 Steps without discounting each member’s personal story, or church ‘cell groups’ can seek spiritual cohesion despite varied applications of the chosen text – every story is unique, but every story is the same.

We see this in history as well – it repeats itself, sort of, but never in quite the same ways. Universal themes and common plotlines seem to be, um… well – they seem to be universal. You know – common.

The ongoing kerfuffle over #edreform involves large-scale efforts to standardize curriculum, standardize tests, standardize teachers, and standardize kids. Good luck with that. In the meantime, while we decry the nonsense inherent in that approach, I’d like to outline the Seven Steps to Personal and Professional Growth which I believe apply equally well to educators and the common rabble alike. I’d like to suggest that a little personal reform, revival, or rebooting, is essential to break even over time – maybe actually grow.

Stay in place for long, and you’re suddenly all kinds of left behind.

If some themes are universal, as my ELA brethren suggest, any classic tale of personal revival should work as a launching pad. I choose as mine the timeless wisdom of Wild Cherry.

Step One: Recognize when you’ve hit a rut or lost your edge.

Hey, do it now. Yay-hey.
Once I was a boogie singer playin’ in a rock’n’roll band.
I never had no problems, yeah, burnin’ down the one night stands.
When everything around me, yeah, got to start to feelin’ so low…

The first step towards fixing anything or making a situation better is recognizing there’s a problem. Call stuff what it is. Many times that’s actually the most difficult part – identifying and admitting what we actually think, want, do, or feel. Accepting possible evidence that what we’re doing isn’t working, or isn’t working as well as it could.

This is true professionally as much as it is personally – sometimes moreso.

Step Two: Open Your Eyes & Look Around.

And I decided quickly (yes I did) to disco down and check out the show.
Yeah, they were dancin’ and singin’ and movin’ to the groovin’ –
And just when it hit me, somebody turned around and shouted,
“Play that funky music white boy; play that funky music right.
Play that funky music white boy; lay down the boogie and play that funky music till you die.
Till you die – yeah, yeah…”

Opening your eyes and looking around is harder than it sounds – that’s why there are so many songs and books about it. You’ve probably noticed how often major characters experiencing personal revelation are blinded or in pain from the sun or other sources of light, even when they don’t kill Arabs on the beach. Jackson Browne even had to go to the doctor after trying to keep his eyes open for so long. We’re all fighting the darkness, sure – but we’re equally blinded by the light.

But fight to keep them open. Don’t be vain, or narrow-minded, or fall back on what you “already know” every time you’re in a rut. You don’t have to like or understand what everyone else is doing, but whether the issues are personal or professional or some messy mix of both, you may be surrounded by talented people of various giftings. Don’t compare yourself to them so much as acknowledge and appreciate what they do well – whether or not it’s the same as what you do well.

And – by the way – I’m beyond certain there are many things you do well.

It is, though, strangely freeing to be comfortable with the talents of others. To allow yourself to learn from them. It often leads to a more energetic and creative you.

Seek wisdom and advice, but of course filter the responses. Those with the least to offer usually have the most to say. But don’t filter so much that you can’t hear common themes. Compare your head and your gut and see when they align – that’s when it starts to get promising.

Step Three: Allow Yourself Time to Digest New Ideas or Unexpected Directions.

I tried to understand this. I thought that they were out of their minds!
How could I be so foolish (how could I?) to not see I was the one behind?
So still I kept on fighting – well – losing every step of the way.
I said, I must go back there (I got to go back) and check to see if thing’s still the same…

Don’t beat yourself up every time you realize you’ve missed something, but don’t ignore it either. The more you don’t want to think about something – whether pedagogical, interpersonal, strategic, or even emotional – the more you should probably revisit that somethinguntil you can Step One & Step Two it properly.

Step Four: Seek Out People, Places, and Ideas That Energize & Inspire You.

Yeah, they were dancin’ and singin’ and movin’ to the groovin’ –
And just when it hit me, somebody turned around and shouted,
“Play that funky music white boy; play that funky music right.
Play that funky music white boy; lay down the boogie and play that funky music till you die.
Till you die – oh, till you die – come on and play some electrified funky music…”

Be a student. Also, shake what your momma gave you – sometimes metaphorically, sometimes quite literally.

Step Five: Initiate Conversations.

(Hey, wait a minute -) Now first it wasn’t easy, changin’ rock’n’rollin’ minds,
And things were getting shaky – I thought I’d have to leave it behind.
But now it’s so much better (it’s so much better) – I’m funking out in every way.
But I’ll never lose that feelin’ (you know I won’t) of how I learned my lesson that day.
Yeah, they were dancin’ and singin’ and movin’ to the groovin’ –
And just when it hit me, somebody turned around and shouted,
“Play that funky music white boy; play that funky music right.
Play that funky music white boy; lay down the boogie and play that funky music till you die.
Till you die – oh, till you die…”

There’s no substitute for going in questioning. This is equally true whether we’re looking to learn or seeking to transform. Share your enthusiasm with relevant parties, but stay grounded and realize your epiphany may not be their epiphany. Solutions are rarely universal, but the experiences which follow a willingness to learn and adapt should be memorialized, evangelized, and rebirthed from time to time.

Besides, while you idealistic types are always ready to stand apart and hold your ground in sacred isolation, most of the time you don’t have to figure it out all alone or move forward totally solo. Life is largely a group activity.

Step Six: Whatever You Do, Right or Wrong – Do It Hard. In Fact, Take It Up A Notch or Two

They shouted “Play that funky music!” (Play that funky music)
“Play that funky music!” (You Gotta keep on playin’ funky music)
“Play that funky music!” (Play that funky music)
“Play that funky music!” (Gonna take you higher now -)
“Play that funky music white boy! Play that funky music right.”
“Play that funky music white boy! Play that funky music right.”

One of the mantras in my classroom is that it’s better to be wrong than to be afraid. You don’t want to take this too far and simply become willfully stupid and annoying, but don’t let potential (or even actual) failure hold you back indefinitely. Personal and professional modulation doesn’t always mean being louder – it means if you’re going to do something, do it. If you’re not, don’t.

Step Seven: Live and Teach Like It Matters – Right Where You Are, Right Now. You might change the world or earn yourself eternal acclaim, although statistically that’s well-outside likely. You might some days barely nudge kids a bit further up the food chain only to watch them slide back down. But if all you manage is one hit from 1976, what the hell – that’s one more hit than most. Make it count.

And you never know what impact your efforts are having, or will have a year later, or five years later, or five decades later. Long after your stories are forgotten, your lesson plans filed – maybe after you’re, you know… dead and stuff – the time and effort you’ve poured into shaking things up and rocking things out might still be popping up on someone’s metaphorical playlist. You might fade, sure, or you might be forever part of their drive – windows down and music cranked up, singing along badly but with great joy. Because you did. Because you showed them how.

Play that funky music, child.

The Pedagogy of Antoine Roussel

February 7, 2017July 31, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 1 Comment

Most of you are probably unfamiliar with the name “Antoine Roussel.”

He’s not a traditional educator – or an educator at all. He’s a professional hockey player. A personal favorite of mine, actually.

And I have the t-shirts to prove it.

Pro hockey, like any other high-end form of athletic entertainment, is home to the elite. That’s why we pay big money to watch them – because they’re better than everyone else at what they do. Lots better.

Ridiculously better.

Nevertheless, there is much to learn from Roussel for those of us in a very different world. A world in which many people do what we do, for not very much money. A world in which it’s eternally debatable whether we’re winning or losing, and no one can seem to agree about exactly what our job is, let alone whether or not we’re doing it well.

I’d like to introduce you to the man fans call the Feisty Frenchman, the Rousster, or DangeRouss – all names I’m pretty sure he hates. In fact, if it comes up, don’t tell him I shared those, covenu?

I’d like to tell you why he’s one of my edu-heroes. And yes, it’s a list. Like cargo pants or cover bands, contrived blog-lists never quite go out of style.

1. Have a plan, but be ready to follow unexpected paths.

Roussel was born in Roubaix, France. For those of you who don’t follow God’s Favorite Game, professional hockey players don’t generally come from France. Rouss is one of only three currently playing in the NHL.

He played rugby as a youngster. It was hot out there on the field, so he kept going to the sidelines to get water. Once Antoine went, teammates followed.

We all have that kid in class – not necessarily intentionally disruptive, but a natural leader who often chooses directions we wish they wouldn’t. And they never go alone.

It made his coach crazy, and eventually it was clear rugby wasn’t going to work. His mother figured hockey would be cooler – like, literally.

He played in France, and eventually came to North America. For several years he bounced around in the minor leagues, sometimes getting looks from NHL affiliates, but not quite finding his role.

The Dallas Stars underwent a major rebuild several years ago, and in 2012 picked up this relative unknown for his reputation as a gritty, in-your-face presence on the ice. It wasn’t long before he was a fan favorite not only for his skill set, but his infectious grin and borderline psychotic drive towards success.

Was it his destiny? Who cares? It’s where he is – and he’s making it count. Apply this as you like to your professional journey, your learning journey, or any given lesson or unit. Sometimes you take it where you decide; sometimes you let it go where it wishes.

2. Standards matter, but growth matters more. Value effort and meaningful gains.

It’s disingenuous to suggest that natural talent doesn’t matter – in hockey, in teaching, in being a student. It does. Whatever combination of genetics and upbringing and luck make for success, sometimes it just… is what it is.

But there’s much to be said for sheer force of will. It’s not a guarantee, but determination sure changes the odds. Sometimes exponentially.

Most of us have a soft spot for that kid who gives 137% whether or not they become the most brilliant student or the most talented player as a result. That mindset stirs greatness. It changes the game not only for that player, but for everyone around them. It changes attitudes, and perceptions, and those intangibles that make everything better.

You want a growth mindset? Don’t be so quick to celebrate lazy excellence – student work that meets your basic requirements but cost them little to do so. Acknowledge their gifts, but ask them how they could stretch themselves productively.

You want a growth mindset? Know when to embrace faltering steps forward from those short on talent, passion, or both. Recognize widows’ mites when they’re given.

I know there’s a whole ‘grit’ argument still raging on the more legit blogs, and that’s fine. What I’m talking about, though, isn’t externally imposed discipline or inflicted hardships. It’s simply recognizing the long-term value of deciding to keep going. To work harder. To figure things out. It’s finding ways to make yourself better and demand of the universe that progress will occur – with or without its cooperation.

That’s you, too, teacher-type. Roussel’s energy is exceptional even among the elite – it’s productive, and diverse. When things are good, he takes it up a notch. When things are bad, he takes it up two.

Don’t give up. Don’t stop trying things. Qui n’avance pas, recule.

3. Students can’t excel if they feel bound by directions; teachers can’t excel if they’re always worried about breaking the rules.

Roussel plays on the edge, sometimes past it. There are times I’d rather he made better decisions in the moment. But that same fearlessness that gets him into trouble also makes him a perpetual force for good on the ice. Coach Ruff is periodically asked after a game how he’ll address something Rouss did that in retrospect hurt the team more than it helped, and his answer is always the same. “It was the wrong decision, and we’ll look at that. But he’s out there every day giving us everything he has. I’m not going to quash that.”

I’m not suggesting it’s ever OK to be unethical. It’s never OK to hurt or misuse your kids, for any reason. But every great teacher knows that you can’t build the relationships you need to draw out the best in some students, or establish the dynamics required of a productive classroom, if your primary concern at every step is whether or not everything you say or do would play well at a disciplinary hearing.

Know the content, and the pedagogy. Know the standards, and the policies. But when it’s time to make things happen, follow your gut and do what’s best for learning and for kids – not what’s safest for you.

As to assignments and other directions, give students enough guidance that they have structure, and support. Unclear expectations can be crippling. But don’t let the rules take over like evil robots in bad sci-fi. The rubrics were made to support the learning; the learning isn’t there to satisfy the rubrics.

4. Sometimes it’s OK to irritate other people.

Roussel is not what you’d call a ‘goon,’ but he is an agitator. He thrives on targeting top players on the other team and annoying the hell out of them. Why? Because their focus starts to become him, rather than playing the game. They make stupid mistakes which work to his team’s advantage.

In terms of education, it’s rarely useful to irritate people just for kicks. But the idea that we should never annoy leadership, or parents, or political power, or one another, is silly. Sometimes the pot needs stirring so the dross rises to the top. Sometimes insight requires provocation.

I personally learn a great deal by lobbing a few conversational hand grenades when I meet new people and seeing what happens. I don’t always make new friends that way, but I sure do learn a great deal. And the friends I do have tend to be smarter than me, bluntly honest, and quick to call me out. Why have them otherwise?

(And it’s ALWAYS OK to taunt Chicago, I assure you. They eat it up and give back twelve baskets-full.)

5. Recognize outbursts of greatness when they occur.

Roussel signed with the Stars in 2012 and scored in his first game. That makes a mark. He’s rarely a top scorer on the team, but he’s often in the top dozen players in the LEAGUE in terms of game-winning goals. He always leads the team and sometimes the entire NHL in penalty minutes, but he’s getting better at picking and choosing which penalties are worth taking, and in what circumstances.

As a teacher, be good every day if you can. Never give less than your best. But be great sometimes. Step up when it matters most.

More importantly, you want to keep kids with you even a little? Recognize the good moments. Treat those random bits of brilliance as the natural greatness you always suspected they were hiding. Be genuinely thankful for the bits of each kid that make them interesting, or fun, or worth tolerating for one more day. You’ll accomplish more and last way longer.

6. People always matter.

Roussel is a fan favorite for his on-ice performance. Off the ice, however, he’s one of the most approachable and grateful professionals in the league. He avoids the easy clichés many players fall into doing countless interviews, instead giving his real self for every reporter, every time. At away games, Rouss will find the green jerseys in the crowd and celebrate with them when the Stars score. It’s a simple thing – a small, silly thing – but the kind that changes people’s entire experience.

When fans line up for autographs as the team leaves the practice arena, most players are professionally polite. Rouss is approachable and charming. My wife and I were caught off guard in the stands one day as he came up to fetch a couple of friends sitting nearby.

“Oh! Um… Rouss!”

It would have been easy to feel awkward or foolish, but he grinned like we were doing him some huge favor by noticing him at all. That’s not about us – that’s just how he treats people. All of them.

It’s adorable.

You know the clichés in education. They don’t care how much you know, etc. People always matter. Always. First. Every time. Small people. Make it happen, or you have no business trying to teach them anything.

7. Do what needs doing, as best you can do it. That’s good enough. You are good enough.

As in many sports, hockey players tend to grow into certain ‘roles’ they’re expected to play. Sometimes circumstances change, and flexibility is required.

Not being pegged into a single role has actually benefitted the winger. Though Roussel often plays on the Dallas Stars’ checking line, {he’s recently} found himself providing support to his team’s top players such as Jason Spezza, Patrick Sharp and Ales Hemsky.
“I’m not a top-line guy, but I’ve been up and down the lineup, just helping the team do whatever we need,” Roussel said. “If it’s playing on the fourth line or the top, I can do it all. It’s a good confidence {Coach Lindy Ruff} has given me sometimes. I appreciate that.”

Be realistic, and advocate for yourself – absolutely. But once planted, bloom like you mean it. That manure they’re dumping is just more fertilizer, baby – and that rain is just, well… rain.

Conclusion

Nothing I do is nearly as entertaining or impressive as Roussel or any other elite performer, although I like to think it has value in its own larger way. We live vicariously through those we cheer, and whether he’s winning or losing at the moment, I can’t help but draw hope and encouragement from a wild-eyed Frenchman on skates, who simply doesn’t know when to quit.

You may, of course, choose someone else as your role model if you like – but mine can probably beat yours up.

Talk About The Passion (Guest Blogger: Kristen Perkins)

October 23, 2016June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

I’ve issued an open call for guest bloggers for the month of October and through Election Day, but this post didn’t come from that call – it came from Facebook.

Some of you remember Facebook – it’s where people not on Twitter talk about things, but with more puppies and fake news sites mixed in. The funny thing is, there are some quality folks writing there who still don’t blog or even tweeterize. Go figure!

I came across Kristen Perkins, who’d written an passionate explanation of why she taught, with vigor, even in Oklahoma. (For you out-of-staters reading, we don’t care much for no book learnin’ round here.) A friend insisted she send her FB post to me, which she did, and I asked her to revisit it and then let me share it here.

Which, as you’ve probably guessed, is what this is.

I even made her write her own intro. I figured it would be better than whatever I could cobble together, and it is. I added the aesthetics after the fact because I just can’t resist that sort of thing. But the good parts are all her.

If you have something on your mind or anything you’d be willing to share, you have a couple of weeks left to let me know. There are few if any limits on topic or length – I merely ask for basic decency and sincerity. It’s ideal if you disagree with me about something, but given how difficult that is to do once basking in Blue, it’s not a requirement. I’m looking for other voices – whatever the angle or passion in play.

My name is Kristen Perkins. I teach 2nd grade in a Title I school in Moore, Oklahoma. This is my 15th year of teaching, and I have a Master’s degree in Curriculum and Instruction. My decision to pursue an advanced degree baffled most of my friends and family, because my post-degree income would increase by about $40 per month, or $20 per paycheck. They couldn’t understand that it was simply about better preparing myself to do what it is I am driven to do every day.

This has been on my mind, and on my heart, so I’m going to try to put it into words. Please don’t think this is about teacher raises or even classroom conditions. It is about having a passion.

For the past two weekends, I have either gone to school to work in my classroom or have run up to open the building to let other teachers in, so they can work. At one point, I counted nine of us there on a Saturday. Those who left before I did took work with them to continue to work on at home. On Monday, rather than appearing rested, we look at each other and ask, “Didn’t we just leave here?”

Those outside the profession often shake their heads at us and say, “It must be a calling.” We are often asked, “Why on earth do you devote so much time to something that barely pays your bills?” It’s about passion, and if you’ve never had passion for something… for anything… I’m not sure you’ll understand.

I have had many jobs prior to this. Before teaching, I even worked in a career where I made much more money than I ever will as a teacher. I was given profit sharing, monthly and holiday bonuses, and a clothing allowance. I was routinely taken to restaurants for staff lunches with colleagues in other offices, where we ate great food, chewed every bite, and never once worked on paperwork while enjoying our meal. I had all of the freedom to negotiate the salary that I wanted. Which I did. Successfully.

Still, when payday came, I opened my check and thought, “Well, two more weeks until I get another one of these. Back to the grind.” It was about a paycheck. I left that behind, not because I was “called” or because I have some noble desire to live barely above the poverty line. I left that career for this one, because every day spent in the other career with all of its trappings was another day spent pushing aside, dampening, desperately trying to quiet… a passion.

Have you had nothing in your life that excited you to the point that you stopped counting the days or hours until payday, and instead looked forward to the next day, when you get to return to that place that fulfills you, inspires you, exhausts you, tests you, challenges you and completely defines you? That’s why I do it.

It’s worth it to me to spend my Saturday cutting out laminated flashcards and creating custom activities if I believe in my heart that using them will help a little boy who is two years behind in reading learn a handful of new words. It’s worth it to me to grade papers until I doze off, or to spend my weekend at a conference, because those things are an important part of the big picture. It’s worth it to me to shut my classroom door after a Friday dismissal and cry because my heart was broken in five different directions that day. If I can’t love them like my own, their struggles remain obstacles rather than mere hurdles. It’s worth it to me, because one day, that little girl who isn’t sure when she’ll see her father again, or that little boy who doesn’t believe he is smart and thinks he’ll never learn to read… might have a passion. They might want to pursue it. It might burn inside them, and they may have to struggle to follow it.

I want to be a part of putting all of the pieces in place so that they have the best chance possible to live their dreams, however exhausting, challenging, heartbreaking, and completely fulfilling they may be. It doesn’t mean I love my family any less, or even that I find this “job” more important than them. It means that I’m not completely who I want to be unless I’m pursuing this passion at the level that I feel is my best. Only when I’m THAT person, can I be a completely good mother, daughter, girlfriend, friend, sister or teacher.

I’m fortunate that those closest to me are patient. My children have grown up watching me push myself, push my students, sacrifice my time, and throw my energy into children that don’t live under our roof. I hope they understand my motivations, and I hope that it pushes them to never settle for a “job” and a “paycheck.” I want them chasing their passion. THAT is what life is about.

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My Teaching Philosophy

June 5, 2016June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

It’s inherently vain to post lesson ideas, particulary those including thoughts on how to teach something in this or that situation. Most everyone reading this blog or receiving the email updates already does many things better than me and even more stuff of which I’ve never even thought. And yet…

When I have teachers share their own ‘best ideas’ in workshops, they usually hate the part where they’re sharing, but love the part where other people are demonstrating what they do. Sometimes new teachers just need some ‘seed’ ideas to get going, or to add some variety to their relatively young toolbox. Some of my favorite blog posts in the past six months have been other teachers sharing what they’re doing in class, or their personal pedagogy.

So I’ve been gradually building a Classroom Resources section to Blue Cereal. Parts of it are being used regularly, if Google Analytics has any validity. Others… well, they’re still in progress.

But it’s June. Let’s talk about Skills.

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Actually I just wanted to work in that clip. We’ll talk classroom strategies, but first let’s talk Teaching Philosophy. Why listen to someone tell you WHAT to do or HOW to do it if you don’t share any common ground as to WHY?

If you’ve been with me in a workshop setting, or know me at all, you know I’m a big fan of trusting teachers to know what’s best for their students in their reality in their subject. We absolutely MUST stretch ourselves as professionals, and push past our so-called ‘comfort zones’, yes. Always. But at the other end of that reasoning is a contrasting but equally important truth – follow your gut. Listen to the experts, trust those you trust, think with your brain, but when it’s time – trust yourself.

Kinda touchy-feely, right?

Nothing I model in workshops, write in instructions, or post on this website is intended to be even a little prescriptive. None of it’s static. At best it’s a series of efforts to capture some small part of a mindset, the expressions of which will vary greatly by time, place, grade level, student realities, class expectations, and your personal styles & preferences. The important thing on which to focus is this: everything you’ve done up until now is wrong and backwards and you’re ruining the future.

Just kidding, except for about four of you – and you know who you are. Actually my philosophy is closer to this:

I totally stole this from Ayn Grubb in Tulsa Public, but she never reads my stuff so she’ll never know. Besides, teachers justify pretty much everything in the name of “IT’S FOR THE CHILDREN.”

‘Point A’ is where students are when they come to us – what they know, what they can do, what they think it’s all about, etc. Lest this visual seem overly simplistic, keep in mind that all 168 of your little darlings start at a different ‘Point A’, so already there’s a challenge to this whole ‘teaching’ thing.

‘Point B’ is where you’d ideally like to get them by the time they walk out of your class at the end of the year – what they really need to know, should be able to do, and their mindset about your subject and learning and all that stuff. All of ‘Point B’ is important, even though well-intentioned equally idealistic people are going to suggest in sneaky ways that it’s not. The content matters – our lil’ darlings won’t all just personal-journey-of-discovery it on their own. The skills matter as well, no matter how special and precious and unique and misunderstood Mummy thinks her baby be. (“He’s just not a writer – he’s more of a ramble-incoherently-while-I-swoon style of learner, and I think it’s wrong to try to force them to all be the same!”)

But here’s the thing…

That middle part, what we often refer to euphemistically as ‘the journey’? Yeah, that part matters a whole lotta lot as well, and it’s the part we tend to shortchange.

My best students come to me never having broken an academic sweat in their lives. School has never been difficult for them, and while they are sometimes rather detached from any real value or purpose for any of it, they play the game and their teachers just LOVE them and they all have 104% in every class. The flip side of this is that the first time they’re confused by a concept or struggle with an expectation, they think either I’m unreasonable and/or insane, OR that – oh no, what if – maybe they’re stupid after all!?!

Neither of these is normally the case.

It’s OK that it’s hard. It’s OK that you’re confused. It’s even OK if you fail from time to time – an idea we seem to worship when it’s time to buy motivational posters but loathe when it’s even hinted at in real life.

The students I’ve failed most unforgivably aren’t just those who get an ‘F’ in my class but those who pass through without ever being stretched or challenged or forced to outdo themselves a little. This is trendy to say at the moment, but that doesn’t make it less true – struggling and failing and recovering and refiguring and adjusting and attempting and moving forward until you crash and burn again… that’s called ‘learning’.

If they don’t learn to risk, succeed, fail, get confused, frustrated, have epiphanies, rewind, triumph, etc, with ME when it’s relatively SAFE and I love them and desperately WANT THEM TO MAKE IT, one of two things will happen: (1) They’ll learn these lessons in much more painful ways later in high school, college, marriages, careers, parenting, etc., when the stakes are much higher and there’s no tutoring in the library at lunch, or (2) They won’t learn them, and their life will suck.

The learning happens in the struggle. If there’s no struggle, there’s very little real learning. This is a whole prolonged thing we could discuss, but for now I’m just laying it out there as my personal philosophy.

For those of you who are deeply and emotionally invested in the whole ‘grit’ argument, keep in mind that students whose entire worlds are all about chaos and struggle and despair require a slightly different sort of assistance. If the comfortable kids need to be made uncomfortable, it is equally true that sometimes the best thing you can do for a child of dysfunction is provide a little security and predictability in their daily experience. And maybe some protein.

I realize that was a painful amount of hope and inspiration for some of you, but that’s what you get with me – pandas and rainbows. I believe that children are the future. Teach them well and let them – well, you get the idea.

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NEXT: Asking Good Questions (And You Don’t Have To Mean It)

Dear Frustrated Student…

December 11, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

Hello. Pull up a chair.

I know you came here to talk about grades, or get help on an assignment, or maybe just because your mom or one of your principals forced you to. That’s OK – I don’t take those sorts of things personally.

I can’t help but notice, however, that whatever your motivation, it does NOT seem to be a deep hunger for learning this particular skill or content. That’s also OK – like I said, not personal.

I can see your frustration. Seemed like you had all the time in the world to make up work, catch up on reading, figure out a plan… and now – suddenly – the semester is almost over, due dates are past, and you finally noticed the review sheet for the final and you don’t know ANY of this stuff – or so it feels.

Or maybe it’s a nagging disdain for school in general. Maybe you’ve begun to notice that the system itself isn’t particularly geared for deep, personal learning. It’s more like a weird bureaucratic game – fake some nice, show up and turn stuff in, and guess what each teacher actually wants from week to week. What you want, who you are, where you’re at, doesn’t seem to matter much.

And you’re right – it’s a stupid system. Some of us are working on that, but…

Hear me out – just for a moment. Please consider that even if grades are stupid, they’re still how the current system works. Even if they don’t accurately express who you are, what you know, or what you’ve done, they ARE attainable without extensive suffering. More importantly, grades give you options.

Maybe your parents will go easier on you about stuff if your grades are good. You have more choices about what to take next year if your grades are good. It’s easier to get into things you want to join, or get the jobs you want if you start working while still in school.

When you graduate, those silly numbers and letters largely dictate how many choices you’ll have about where you go and what you do from here. It’s not about what I think you should do at that point – it’s about YOU having OPTIONS.

And those, for better or worse, largely come from grades.

I hope, too, that you realize that even if grades don’t always measure learning, there’s still lots of learning to be had here. Most of your teachers got into this profession out of some combination of caring about kids and loving whatever subject they’re teaching.

Not ME, of course – I’m working out my personal issues by torturing teenagers – but I’m the exception. Most of the others felt a ‘calling’ to do this. They may seem jaded and bitter now, but the roots of their idealism are still there. You just have to tap into them.

You don’t have to love every subject, and certainly not every assignment, but please don’t let your frustration get in the way of noticing when something really is kinda cool, or interesting, or important, or engaging. It’s OK to care from time to time. It doesn’t mean you’ve sold out or given in; it just means you’re listening and willing to learn.

One other thing, then we’ll look at your grade and realistic options between now and the end of the grading period. Pretend you’re really listening to me here and I’ll probably go easier on you when it comes time to finalize this stuff. We like to feel like we’re ‘reaching the kids’.

It’s possible you haven’t made very good decisions so far this year. Maybe this is the latest in a long series of rocky semesters, or maybe it’s new – school used to be easy until…

If the underlying issues are about family, or legal stuff, or chemical imbalances, addiction, abuse, or simply good ol’ generalized rampant dysfunction – you need to understand that you’re not old enough for most of what’s happened to you in life so far to be your fault.

For the same reasons we don’t let you vote, drive, decide whether or not to go to school, or let you manage your own behavior while here, etc., you’re not morally, legally, spiritually, or intellectually culpable for the vast majority of what’s happened to you up until now.

Even when you’ve made choices – good OR bad – they’re inevitably shaped by your upbringing, DNA, and events beyond your control.

It’s not that problems go away when you hit 18, but they become more and more YOUR problems to handle as best YOU can. Part of what sucks about being a teenager is you have so many near-adult responsibilities, but so little power to handle them as you see fit.

That’s going to start changing, and suddenly all the rules will be different. Good decisions won’t always produce immediate good results, but a series of good decisions usually results in more good results than bad. All we can do is play the odds.

Old people like myself used to hang this poem on our bathroom walls or behind our desks – it starts with something like, “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

You can’t change your parents, or your teachers, or your past. I know that sucks, but that’s how it is. You’d be surprised how many people burn up all their time, energy, and emotion trying. It never works.

You CAN do a better job with the parts IN your control. It won’t seem like it at first, but the learning happens in the struggle. You get better at it by doing it over and over. When it works, keep doing it; when it doesn’t, try again.

I know, sounds easy, right? It’s always easier to see and understand when it’s someone else.

Finally, you’re smart enough for this class. If you weren’t, you’d already be in another class. If there’s one thing we’re good at, it’s categorizing and tracking kids. I’ve been doing this for a long time, and if you were too stupid to be in here, I’d have taken you aside long ago and said, “Honey, I have some difficult news. You’re… well, you’re a great kid, but you’re simply too stupid for this class. I’m going to help you find a bozo class where you can be with your own people.”

But I didn’t, did I?

I promise you, then – you’re more than capable. Of course it’s hard. Why would we come to school and practice a bunch of stuff we could already do, or learn stuff we already know? Hmm? Oh, well – I can’t help how that other teacher does things, but that’s not what we SHOULD be doing, at least.

And you’re going to make it. It won’t be quick, but it WILL GET BETTER. Life doesn’t get easy, but you’ll get better at it being hard, I promise. Eventually you’ll be able to reach out to those around you less capable than yourself and help them get through their craziness as well. Because you’ll get it. Because you’ll have done it.

I’ll stop now, but I’m right about all of this. I’m very, very old, and very, very wise. Understood?

OK. Let’s look at that grade…

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