What A Wonderful Opportunity!

February 7, 2016June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 1 Comment

You may remember less than two months ago when Oklahoma Secretary of Finance Preston Doerflinger proudly announced the initial wave of the state’s budget woes – $900 million less projected revenue for the next fiscal year and a massive “revenue failure.”

“The fact that we find ourselves in this position is providing us with a tremendous opportunity,” Doerflinger told reporters. “I’ve been talking for years about the structural problems the state faces. Now, we find ourselves in a very challenging situation. Panicking about the situation is not productive. We need to use this as an opportunity to do the things we otherwise might not have the will to do.”

As it turns out, the things they might not otherwise have the will to do meant massive cuts to public education and other services, but thousands – literally, numerically, THOUSANDS – of raises and new hires for state agencies. For the chosen bureaucratic favorites of our ‘small government’ Republican leadership.

As quoted by news9.com:

Doerflinger says the purpose of the freeze, primarily, was to add another layer of scrutiny to personnel decisions, especially those with the potential to impact the budget.
“And it’s caused conversations to occur.” Doerflinger stated, “And a higher level of scrutiny, as agency heads made decisions about hiring.”

OK. But… THAT’S NOT A FREEZE.

A freeze is when you stop doing something because you can’t anymore. What Doerflinger is describing is actually another layer of red tape in an already bloated process. At best it’s a ‘minor chilling’ of some sort.

Do any words actually MEAN THINGS to these people?

Doerflinger also announced in December that the budget crisis would mean AT LEAST a 2% – 4% cut ACROSS the BOARD. He neglected to add “Except for us. We’re going to be fine, because $#%& you commoners.”

He neglected to mention that they’d still prioritize eliminating any lingering revenue from the top sliver of the most successful in the state. If we can’t tax ourselves into prosperity, then eliminating taxes altogether means the state now has ALL the money, right?

As you watch me having my daily rhetorical seizures and you tire of the whining of educators around the state, please keep in mind that for all the talk of how helpless and hopeless and impotent and incapable state leadership suddenly insists they are in every possible way, they are

Objectively

Literally

Undeniably

Entirely

Intentionally

Maliciously

So full of $#&* I don’t know how they can walk without exploding. “It’s an opportunity,” he says – knowing damn well that at best it’s another excuse to do exactly what they did when oil was selling at 3x and 4x what it is now – funnel everything in their grasp to the chosen few, the elite specials, and piss on the rest of us.

We have a crisis, sure – FOR YOU. For the stupid and the busy and the easily frightened. For those of you too tired or in denial or simply unwilling to deal with the layers and layers of inanity. YOU have a crisis. You probably don’t have the time or energy to deal with it, however, because you’re trying to get through the day unbroken.

The elite leadership and their power structure don’t have a crisis – they have a bonus check. New work buddies. While you’re moving to off-brand mac’n’cheese, they’re lamenting having bumped into a higher tax bracket.

The Oklahoman, OKC’s major daily, recently called for #OklaEd bloggers to be more ‘civil’ on our #OklaEd website that allows people to use Twitter (they apparently aren’t much for the Interwebbing or the Facegramming). Using their best lofty old men-in-suits accent, they scolded us for not being more reasonable as we mutually address the challenges that blarglemugglefarfehnugen.

I have some civil discourse for them, for Gov. Fallin, Mr. Doerflinger, and everyone else slinging their pompous patronization around while smugly snickering at the unwashed masses and their sad state – er, as it were.

Kiss my big fat angry blogging ass, you sick twisted lying $#%&ers. You may beat us all while we’re here, but if you’re anywhere close to correct in all that theology you sling around to justify sh*tting on people, then ‘freezing’ is the precise opposite of what will soon be your biggest concern. Don’t worry, though – think of it as an amazing ‘opportunity’.

Cursive, Foiled Again!

February 5, 2016June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

A few weeks ago, State Superintendent of Public Instruction Joy Hofmeister tweeted something about cursive being part of the revised ELA standards. Being me, I responded semi-snarkily about Morse code or quill pens or such. It was friendly, but I was oddly annoyed in a way I wasn’t quite ready to confess.

Joy being Joy, her response was diplomatic and included links to relevant research. In the exchange, I also somehow managed to antagonize a number of dyslexia advocates (er… they’re not advocating FOR dyslexia – you know what I mean), so… I let it go.

Conflict wasn’t my goal, for once. I like Joy, and some of my best friends are, um… dyslexic, I guess.

But… why did I even care? What was up with that? And then I remembered. All of it.

I graduated from high school in 1985 completely unprepared for the academic and personal expectations of a legitimate university. I was ‘smart’ enough, but immature and underexposed to challenge. My high school’s “Honors” program was mostly a few pull-out sessions a week in which we did brain teasers and ‘leadership skills.’ I wasn’t exposed to anything like AP or IB until I was actually teaching, many years later.

I dropped out of the University of Tulsa after five semesters, having failed a number of classes and lost most of my academic and other scholarships for lack of… doing much.

It was over a decade before I went back. By that time I was married (which wasn’t going particularly well), had two small children, and had realized that neither my band nor my job were going to make me rich, famous, or fulfilled. In short, my life kinda sucked.

In the midst of this madness, my then-wife said something for which I am still thankful all these years later. “You should consider teaching. You’re already full of ****, so most people love you, and you tell a pretty good story as long as it doesn’t have to be accurate or appropriate. Why don’t you teach history?”

I didn’t have any better ideas, and what better way to offset my own bad choices and misery than bringing down as many others as possible? Ruining young lives, 153 at a time!

Best decision of my life.

Still working almost full time, taking out ridiculous loans I could never repay, two small children at home with a decent mother but unhappy spouse, I returned to school.

Initially, I was rather… discouraged by the caliber of people on the introductory education path. Dear god, no wonder schools were in such trouble. What was I doing?

Over time, however, those initial masses were culled a bit and things weren’t so awful. I hated the theory and the touchy-feely stuff, but I loved the history – despite those classes being particularly difficult for me. I knew so little about… anything.

Two and a half years of full-time school, work, kids, rocky marriage, no money, smothering in-laws, and personal dysfunction. There were some great individuals and good moments, but I messed up more than I didn’t. I was slightly above average academically, but a train wreck at life skills and direction.

And yet, I made it.

I graduated with a respectable GPA, given how I’d begun all those years before. I met the best people and earned the right honors, and was becoming potentially useful to the universe.

Time to take the state test. The big, scary, ‘teacher certification’ exam.

Everything from this point forward is colored by emotional memory. For those of you who are facty thinkers, please understand that for some of us, REALITY is a series of EXPERIENCES which may or may not exactly correspond with purely objective recall.

I can’t swear to the details, but I am certain as to the version forever burned into my psyche.

The test back then was big and comprehensive and scary. I remember trying to study from Oklahoma History textbooks while glazing over in disinterest, and cramming on World Cultures and Economics about which I still knew next-to-nothing, barring a few interesting centuries in Europe and how to effectively juggle overdraft fees.

As to the pedagogy and touchy-feely, well… I’d just have to fake it as best I could. As my first wife had suggested, I was fairly gifted at being “full of ****.”

I arrived at the testing center nervous, but ready to dive in. I remember a locker for my personal belongings, and some guidelines I had to read. Then came the clipboard.

“Read and copy the following certification of something or other IN YOUR OWN HANDWRITING and sign and date at the bottom.” I hadn’t planned on this – a long list of formalities I’d have to copy in a foreign script before I’d even be allowed to begin the actual test.

The timed test. The one determining if the past two-and-a-half years of my life had been worth it. The one potentially ruining everything. The one I was already worried about, despite weeks of stressful preparation. The one for whom the clock was already ticking.

I hadn’t written in cursive since elementary school. I could read it, but I can listen to others play the piano without being able to reproduce the process. I’d printed – efficiently – throughout high school, retail, and college. I’d long-since stopped even thinking about it.

I walked nervously to the desk and asked the lady… see, I don’t… could I…?

No. Those were the rules. That was the system.

So I started laboriously trying to copy this… this… required certification. In my memory it’s easily a page long, but I don’t know how technically true that was.

I do know that at 30 years of age, with two kids at home and a wife who didn’t like me much but who’d devoted two-and-a-half years to getting me through school, after leaving a good-paying job (which, granted, I hated), I was shaking. The frustration, and helplessness, and anger, and… how stupid I felt.

SO stupid. What was I thinking – that I was going to change the world? I couldn’t even copy the $%@&ing certification. Angry stupid. Impotent stupid. It overrode rational thought.

Twenty years later, I’ve handled worse without it killing me. It seems melodramatic in retrospect. But at the time, it felt like the worst thing that had ever happened to me. It took me forever to get through, and I don’t even remember the rest of the day or the actual testing.

I was telling my (new, hopefully permanent) wife about this after the Twitter exchange referenced above, and the emotions from that day ambushed me, rather unfairly. I nearly lost my suave – weird, given that I hadn’t thought much about it in the nearly twenty years since.

There’s a lesson here about assessment and whether we’re actually measuring what we claim – no one warned me that working with teenagers hinged on my ability to write cursive under pressure.

There’s probably a ‘grit’ lesson of some sort as well – I mean, I finally copied the damn thing in some butchered version and took the actual certification tests. I even passed – to the chagrin of my poor students each year.

Mostly, though, it’s just a horrible memory that still stirs up things I don’t like to think about and feelings I don’t like to feel – helpless, stupid, angry things which I try to channel a bit more productively these days.

None of which Joy Hofmeister could possibly know, and for which she can certainly not be held responsible. She wasn’t Superintendent then – she probably wasn’t even through high school yet.

So… sorry I was snippy. Hope I hid it well. I promise, though, that I won’t argue about cursive anymore. It turns out I have a few lingering… issues on that subject.

Not that anyone could ever tell.

Twelve Grand Truths of Leading a Workshop

January 27, 2016June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 1 Comment

Dear Workshop Leader,

Don’t take this personally. I’ve been where you are right now, plenty of times, and I know it’s not an easy task.

Any time you’re trying to drag a roomful of teachers through required district PD, or breakout sessions at a conference somewhere, or state training on the latest curriculum hoops, it’s a tough gig. Teachers make the worst students.

But if you’ll allow me to be so bold, a few words of advice from someone who’s also been where they are right now… far too many times?

You don’t have to be the funniest, smartest, or most energetic person in the world to run a successful teacher training. In fact, there are some fairly straightforward things anyone can do to dramatically increase the odds of a decent workshop.

Here, I’ll use big letters so it’s extra serious and true:

Twelve Grand Truths of Leading a Workshop

1. Have a plan. Flexibility is great, but meandering through the day without clear direction or explicit goals is both insulting and frustrating for your audience. Just because you have tons of time to fill doesn’t mean you should blatantly waste it.

If there’s a good reason to change direction, that’s great – but make it a clear change, not an utter lack.

2. Learn the technology ahead of time. I realize you were promised a certain set-up and it didn’t happen, or you asked for internet and it’s not available. But you’ve known for at least a day or two that you were going to be leading today, so do us both a favor and figure out how stuff works ahead of time.

Come early and use the provided computer. Test the projector. Practice opening apps and closing windows, and try pulling something from your flash drive. There’s no shame in struggling, but need we watch?

Of course you never RELY on technology to cooperate. Just like in class, have a plan for when the computers rebel. But you know this… right?

3. Don’t read your presentation or the handouts to us. You think I’m kidding, but despite being something of a cliché for the past decade, people still do this to us ALL the TIME.

If there are excerpts which simply must be covered verbatim, fine – but reading Powerpoint slides? Perish the thought. Same thing with written instructions, prompts, etc. If we can read them, let us read them. If you wish to tell us what to do, then tell us – conversationally, in your own words.

If I’m to be read to, I’d at least like a bottle and my blankie.

4. Someone already finds you credible or we wouldn’t be here. If there’s a need to explain who you are and why we should listen to you, do it up front, and briefly. Better yet, put a short bio in your handouts.

Constant references to former students, cool people you’ve met, or fancy events you’ve attended, are fun lunch chatter – but when you work them into every conversation, you sound insecure.

We get it – you’re awesome. Your methods are impeccable and your scores are tops. You’ve read all the best books and been to all the best places.

Yay for you; let’s move on.

5. A little diplomacy goes a long way. If someone wants your opinion about homework, textbooks, or classroom management, then give it. Keep in mind, though, that plenty of other sincere, experienced, just-as-smart-as-you educators have different opinions.

Speaking in absolutes doesn’t strengthen your credibility – often the impact is quite the opposite. Plus, there’s no benefit in alienating or annoying your participants, making the rest of the day less effective and leading to negative evaluations.

Examples of diplomatic responses:

“You know, I’m personally a big fan of ___________________”

“I’ve never had much luck with ____________; my problem with it is _________________”

“With my kids {insert age and demographic clarifiers}, I usually __________; have you considered trying ___________?”

While I get that you don’t want to seem wishy-washy, you’ll generally sound thoughtful and wise when you recognize that not everyone’s style is like yours and not every roomful of students are the same.

6. Participants often appreciate the books you think we should read, websites we should visit, or videos we should watch – so compile them ahead of time, or during lunch, or at the end. They should be addressed in a clump.

Recurring stoppages to address the book/website/video that just popped into your head derail whatever flow you’ve established, and disrespect participants’ time. Then, of course, everyone has to ask how to spell the author’s name or if you’ll repeat the URL, and suddenly they all have these other books/sites/resources everyone should know about and dear-god-kill-me-now.

7. If you’re going to assign us to read or do something, give us time and space to do it. Don’t ask questions if you’re just going to immediately answer them yourself, and don’t pretend subjects are open-ended if you have a ‘correct’ response in mind.

I know you’re not doing it on purpose – some of us feel very insecure relinquishing the reins, even for a few minutes. If it helps, set a stopwatch for yourself and MAKE yourself allow some time. Walk around and listen, but don’t jump in unless asked.

It’s one thing if participants are clearly finished or totally off-topic, but don’t step on participant work time or insert yourself into every conversation just because you’re bored or uncomfortable.

8. Unless this is a purely informational workshop (i.e, you’re explaining the new budget or covering important changes in the AP Exam), don’t talk so much. Watch the clock – if you’re in front of the room pontificating for more than about 10 minutes, we’re bored. You can be as offended as you like that we’re on our phones, but you’re the one rambling on and on.

If we’re here to learn strategies, let’s do the strategies. If there are parts worth discussing, stop and let us discuss. Heck, leave the room for a few minutes and get a drink – it keeps things moving for you as much as it does us.

If there are entire blocks of time scheduled with nothing for us to stop and talk about, or to do by ourselves or in small groups, you’re doing it wrong. Period.

9. Assume your audience are capable professionals, but don’t assume they all have the same body of content knowledge. We all teach different grades and subjects, and come from different backgrounds – but we’re all teachers, so have a little respect.

It’s tricky to know what to assume ‘everyone knows’ and what to explain. That’s where reading the room and being tuned in to your participants comes in. That’s a teacher skill, and you’re a teacher – right?

10. Never go to the scheduled ending time. If the email said 4:00, start wrapping up at 3:30. If you MUST go to 4:00, make sure the email says 4:30. And never never EVER no matter WHAT keep them past the required time.

Ever.

No.

Don’t!

11. There is no Eleventh Grand Truth. We’re cutting it so we can wrap up a bit early…

12. Sometimes you’ll do everything right and your participants simply won’t cooperate or care. If you can solve this or adjust, then certainly do, but if not…

Don’t take it personally; teachers make the worst students.

Top Ten Education Myths (Part Two)

January 22, 2016June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 1 Comment

In a previous post, I counted down the first half of my Top 10 Teacher Myths. I broke the post in half partly due to the length, but I also wanted to solicit #11FF thoughts on the remaining five.

It was perhaps cruel to leave you waiting for Part Two. Fear not, however, my Eleven Faithful Followers – our long national nightmare is over. Here are my Top 5 Teacher Myths:

#5 – Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach. I didn’t want to use this one because I thought it was too archaic. After reader feedback, however, it’s clearly not – they find it flung about like primate poo whenever education is discussed.

Here’s a simple way to dispel this lamest of illusions. You non-teachers out there, choose whatever it is you’re best at – doing taxes, working on teeth, selling dishwashers, trading stock… whatever.

Now go teach it to 30 teenagers at a time who are there against their will. One hour a day, five groups a day. Continue until 90% of them can pass a multiple choice test made by people who don’t do what you do – the taking of which is nothing like doing your actual thing.

Those who can, teach; those who can’t, can kiss my-

Sorry. A tad bitter.

#4 – Teachers aren’t in it for the money (so abuse them at will and why pay them at all?) It’s true most of us didn’t sign up in order to tap into unlimited wealth and fame – but this is a false dichotomy. It presumes there are only two types of careers in the world – narcissistic, money-hungry, and exploitative, or caring, selfless, and would rather not get paid at all.

Nonsense.

Even those pushing for teacher raises usually miss the rhetorical mark. We don’t need better teacher pay so that we can draw the ‘best people’ to the profession (although it might help with those already IN the profession who’ve fled to surrounding states). We need better teacher pay so that those called to the profession – the ones on their way to becoming the best people for it – can pursue that calling and still make their car payment and feed their family.

It’s not the NHL – we’re not trying to secure a right-shooting defenseman without hitting our salary cap. We’re trying to scrape together enough that those willing and able to serve without riches or glory can do so.

Duh.

#3 – The Number One Factor in a child’s education is the quality of his or her teacher.

No it’s not. Teachers matter, but parents matter more. Poverty matters more. Upbringing, and ZIP code, and culture, and home life, and all sorts of complicated things schools can barely impact, matter more.

Lots more.

We wish they didn’t, because we want to believe we can fix it all by force of will and a dash of talent. But the issues are bigger and deeper and more complex than any number of inspirational memes can solve.

That being said, none of this is an excuse for educators. God grant me the serenity, and all that. Step up and teach as if you ARE the most important factor in their worlds – as if you and you alone stand between them and destruction.

I mean, if you’re particularly concerned with reality – boy, did YOU choose the wrong profession!

#2 – Such and such kids will learn anyway / succeed anyway / be fine no matter how big their classes or who teaches them.

When confronted with shrinking budgets, it’s tempting to pack the ‘honors’ kids into the fewest possible sections in order to maintain manageable class sizes for the rest. When not every faculty member is a superstar, it perhaps makes sense to assign stronger teachers to those most likely to get you on the ‘needs improvement’ list – leaving the ‘good kids’ with the ‘leftover’ teachers.

Whatever arguments may be made for such maneuvering, we salve our consciences by proclaiming that ‘those kids will learn anyway’ – as if they’re fully developed, self-starting little learning machines.

Ridiculous. Maybe they won’t be getting into serious discipline trouble, or failing their end-of-the-year exams, but the suggestion that any subset of children will learn and grow the same amount whether we’re even in the building or not is insulting – and blatantly false.

The ‘best’ students – academically, behaviorally, whatever – need to be pushed and challenged and understood and driven just like any other kid. Often they need it more than others, being the least likely to have experienced meaningful challenge or engagement before.

We’d like to keep our bottom 20% out of prison, but we’ll need tomorrow’s leaders and world-changers to know and be able to do stuff, too. Thinking creatively, chasing truth alone or in groups, the value of mistakes and resolve – these aren’t genetic traits; they’re inculcated by great teachers.

Do what you must to handle difficult logistics, but let’s not coat it in prevarication just so we’ll feel better.

#1 – If you’ll just do X, your students will Y – flip the class, eliminate grades, ask about their feelings, model enthusiasm, make it about the kids, make connections to real life, etc.

This is number one AND the one we most inflict on ourselves. Every time someone has a new idea, or strategy, or approach, and it works for them, it becomes a silver bullet for all times, all teachers, and all situations.

Why would we even begin to think that could be true?

I’ve learned much from teachers who ‘flip the lesson’ – I think it’s a great idea in many circumstances, and I’d have never thought of it. I have plenty to say about how we treat our kids from day to day, and how that impacts their willingness and ability to learn. And if taking out all the desks gives you a jump start to learnify your lil’ darlings, more power to you!

But there’s no Holy Grail we’ve simply missed for two hundred years. There’s no secret which, once unleashed, will change everything for everybody and finally solve the great educational crises of our day.

That’s silly.

It becomes destructive when we convince struggling teachers or ambitious administrators that they must ignore everything their eyes, ears, and guts are telling them and DO THE FINALLY RIGHT THING until the MAGIC HAPPENS. Every time some pedagogical potentate in a bow tie writes a book the superintendent likes or a couple of principals have a particularly good conference weekend in Vegas, they think leadership suddenly means they can mandate the #$%& out of something and all will be solved.

Great ideas are great ideas. Important discussions are important discussions. Keep sharing them, and having them, and trying them. But stop trying to build pedagogical vending machines – insert idea here, win improved test scores, or maybe a tearful thanks from Lil’ Enrique!

OK, that’s it – that’s what I’ve got. What did I leave out? What would you change? I look forward to hearing more from you.

Who knows? I might like your ideas better and revise the whole thing in a later post so I can take credit for them. Now THAT’S a thing teachers actually DO.

RELATED POST: Top Ten Education Myths (Part One)

Top Ten Education Myths (Part One)

January 20, 2016June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

I don’t do many numbered lists, but I notice they’re going out of vogue and figured that was the perfect time to do one more. It’s like wearing cargo shorts, or getting excited about Kings of Leon.

Go on – judge me.

Anyone in education for more than a week is deluged with clichés and presumed bits of wisdom which rarely play out as promised. They’re not usually malicious, but neither are they reliable. Like a mirage, perceived substance vanished when you’re most desperately relying on them.

In an effort to reduce the volume of sand in our collective edu-eyes, here’s the first half of my Top Ten Education Myths Countdown.

#10 – The students will make you crazy. There are certainly times that my students leave me frustrated, bewildered, or even frothing towards neurosis. They can be a difficult lot, no matter how many inspirational memes you retweet each week.

That being said, it’s not the kids who truly hold the power to undermine your sanity – it’s the adults. The higher up the ladder, the more likely they are to zap you with the crazy ray when it’s least welcome and not at all necessary.

If you’re not nodding in silent assent as you read this, thank your leadership effusively and often. They’re the exception.

#9 – The teacher students like the best is the best teacher. This is not without elements of truth. It’s difficult to reach kids who DON’T like you, and teachers who are comfortable with and care about their students tend to give more, and get more from them.

But a teacher may be wildly effective because they’re consistent, know exactly what they’re doing, and demand big things of those not accustomed to being considered so very full of possibilities. They may receive ZERO Starbucks cards at the holidays but deep thanks from former students years after they’ve moved on and have a little perspective.

Conversely, there are very ‘cool’ teachers who are strong on the bonding but weak on the ‘challenging’ or the ‘knowing stuff’. Correlation is not causation –you may know many good teachers who are totes down with the kids, but that doesn’t make it a ‘rule’.

#8 – Teachers are afraid of accountability / Teachers’ unions are there to make sure their members aren’t held to any real standards. We, as a profession, are largely culpable for this perception. There are few things more horrifying to watch than a teachers’ strike on the news – horrible slogans, bad hair, and chants beginning with “2, 4, 6, 8…”

You’d think we were collectively thrown off of American Idol during Hollywood Week and just couldn’t accept that our slow, tender version of “All About That Bass” just wasn’t up to snuff.

But think about your elected leaders – the ones who make you go nuts on Facebook or Twitter with their inane comments and proposals. Better yet, recall the most difficult relationship from which you’ve ever had to extricate yourself, especially if it involved being judged or misconstrued – the more irrational the better. Ask yourself if you’d want that person in charge of your income, your profession, or your major life decisions. How about letting them tell you how to raise your kids? No?

That’s what it’s like when people with zero track record of having any idea what they’re talking about continue to insist on telling us what good teaching looks like, how to handle our students, etc. And they have power over our meager lil’ paychecks as well.

It’s enough to make those horrible slogans seem encouraging.

#7 – Teachers have it easy / Teachers work longer and suffer more nobly than any other profession in the history of mankind. We may overreact to tired old cracks about ‘having summers off’ and whatnot, but far sillier are our efforts to establish that we do, in fact, martyr ourselves in ways that leave slackers like Gandhi and Mother Theresa bathed in shame and inadequacy.

There’s that email showing what we’d make if we were babysitters (something in the hundreds of thousands annually), and all those tortured tales about our 60-hour weeks and the resulting personal dysfunctions. “Yeah, but did MLK every have to buy his own SCHOOL SUPPLIES?!?”

I’m not saying no one does it that way – just that it’s not the norm. Nor is it healthy for extended periods. Sure, I put in plenty of hours before 8:00 and after 3:00 prepping, grading, and occasionally trying to learn a few new things.

But then I go home. I read books. I watch hockey. I have a family. So should you.

#6 – Such and such kids won’t learn no matter what you do.

Maybe. Or maybe I just suck and haven’t tried the right thing. Maybe if we could find a better setting – more structured, less strict, different peer group… Maybe if more of our faculty looked like him, or more of our curriculum mattered to her.

Then again, maybe not. Sometimes it’s not us – it’s them. The moment this becomes an excuse to write them off, however, you’re doing it wrong.

Don’t beat yourself up over every kid you can’t reach – chances are their issues go way deeper than you can spelunk in an hour a day with 152 others to inspire. But if that ever stops bothering you, eating at you, making you question everything you thought you liked about yourself… well, then you suck.

Time to let you in on a little secret.

I know exactly what my Top 3 are going to be, but I’m torn about #4 and #5. I have some ideas, but I’d like to know what YOU’D put on this list before I finish it in a few days. Comment below, or email me if you prefer.

Bonus points if your suggestion is already one of my Top 3.

RELATED POST: Top Ten Education Myths (Part Two)