Timmy’s Cell Phone Plan (Adventures In Standardized Testing)

February 7, 2018June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

We did some practice test questions in our faculty meeting this morning.

I get it. State testing season is upon us, and while I see the many amazing things happening in my new district, our recent scores have us on the state’s “naughty” list. The pressure is seriously building for the folks with slightly nicer desks than mine to turn things around.

State tests in Indiana take over the known world beginning in February – making Oklahoma’s “end of instruction” exams (which came two months or more before the end of instruction) seem somehow reasonable in comparison. If we’re going to be devoting our energies to persuading students of the value and importance of the damn things in the weeks to come, the reasoning goes, we should have some idea of what they actually look like.

I’ve already had a taste. This year is the first year the entire process is computerized. You’ve all seen the headlines in recent years about the number of times the whole system crashes halfway through this most modern and sophisticated of Teacher Effectiveness Measuring Systems; it seemed thus prudent to test the bandwidth a bit ahead of the official charade. Perhaps more importantly, the powers-that-be wanted students to be familiar with the procedures and formatting – the endless codes to be entered and ticket numbers to be verified, the bewildering joy conveyed by the mandated script over things like the availability of on-screen highlighting tools, and the way there’s ALWAYS that one kid who simply can NOT get logged in no matter what you try, leaving the entire room in frustrated limbo.

In short, my students all hate the damn tests months ahead of time.

Now, we can talk a good game about how important these are to graduation (they have to pass a certain number to get out of here with a decent flavor of diploma), but if my kids were long-term planners, they wouldn’t wait until the weekend after major projects are due to begin ignoring half of the instructions and doing them completely wrong. Insisting they be patient and maintain diligent enthusiasm over the opportunity to theoretically “demonstrate what they know” while I walk around trying to figure out why Enrique’s Passcode Verification Edu-Cipher keeps opening up the AP Latin Online Exam instead of High School Algebra is simply not persuasive.

After the first 15 minutes, I don’t really believe it myself.

In any case, teachers were given a sample math problem to solve this morning. Math teachers circulated to offer assistance after watch for shenanigans. My table was confronted with a serious dilemma on behalf of a fictional Timmy. Should he go with the cell phone plan that charges a monthly fee and then a small amount per text, or the plan with no monthly fee and a slightly higher amount per text? How many texts a month would make the first plan more advantageous?

Let’s set aside that cell phone plans don’t really work that way anymore; it’s a clear effort to take math and use it in a real world setting, even if that real world was in 2003.

For non-math people, we did rather well. We took the monthly fee of the first plan and divided it by the difference between per-text charges in the two. The answer was a nice round number – 300, I believe – and thus the number of texts at which the plans would cost the same. More texts than that and he should go with the monthly fee plan; fewer and he should stick with the higher per-text cost.

Look at us go! Real world math with a few scribbles on scratch paper! It took a few minutes to sort through the logistics, but we win at state testing.

Only we didn’t.

Our answer was correct, but we’d skipped the required step of writing out the equation necessary to work the problem. That’s what would be graded by the Electronic Masters. Did we know how to assign variables, and isolate ‘x’, and which rules applied, and all that?

Um… no, but we solved the problem. Not only that, we UNDERSTOOD our solution. Still, I suppose I could see some benefit to the expectation that students be able to translate that into the appropriate “language”…

Even that wasn’t enough, however. The real secret to success, once the problem was actually solved, was knowing how to use the on-screen tools and required answering box to enter the right symbols in the right order and leave the proper number of spaces in order to meet some pre-determined but loosely defined concept of what “showing your work” might actually look like to a minimum wage worker in Idaho looking at a key on a laminated sheet of some sort.

In other words, we failed high school math because we only knew how to use it to solve real-world problems, not how to make the test happy.

In my naivete, I thought the biggest challenge in math was still getting kids PAST the equations and into understanding how that math can actually be used. I thought the goal was to figure out how many tiles Savannah needs for her outdoor swimming pool, or the price point at which Carlos can afford fancy coffee once a week and still pay his rent. But it seems that’s not the goal at all.

The goal is to serve the machines. To nurture even deeper cynicism on the part of my kids about the actual point or value of even being her to begin with. To further bind their sense of identity and worth to their ability to game a rubric.

And I thought my internal tension over the time I spend focused on AP Exams was stressful; these poor math teachers! They love their subject – they’re really good at it – and they see the value, the fun, the joy, the depth! But if they’re going to qualify for those merit bonuses – or in some cases, keep their jobs at all – it has to all boil down to making the machines happy by pummeling their students into compliance.

Oh, and don’t forget to help the students remain relaxed and model some enthusiasm about taking the tests to begin with, of course.

It doesn’t help that behind my “still new here don’t make trouble still new here don’t make trouble” smile, I’m pretty sure the whole process is just another excuse to condemn public schools and undercut whatever progress we’ve made towards equity and more useful definitions of growth and excellence. While they don’t openly despise education with quite the fervor to which I grew accustomed in Oklahoma, this is still the Land of Pence and a VERY red state whose legislature simply goes to slightly more trouble to dress up their Trumpish loathing of all things social-contracty.

Even trying to ignore local politics, the undercurrent of seething resentment at ANY public money at all going towards the enlightenment of kids with blue collar parents and hard-to-pronounce last names is palpable. The hysteric bonds of ideology still chafe when again crushed (how surly they must be!) by the bitter angels of their nature.

Even assuming the best – that the state is acting out of willful ignorance rather than overt malice – I confess I am not looking forward to testing season. This has been a weird enough year and there are many things about my kids’ mindsets I wish I could magically transform – and no end to my personal failings as I’ve tried to lead them along a difficult path they have limited interest in treading.

And yet, I hate knowing they’ll be subjected to the monster in the weeks to come, and that there’s little I can do about it. For that matter, I don’t actually fault the district for their efforts to reshape some of their statistics, either. I suppose I could hold my breath that some new wave of rational political reform, untied to corporate overlords or bizarre ideology will sweep into power nine months from now, but that seems unlikely as well.

So I’ll keep trying to drag my little darlings to the water of life and hold their heads under until they discover the joys of learning, and hope that the clusterfoolery of standardized testing don’t exterminate what little progress we’ve made. If all else fails, I am confident that I am now fully qualified to get back into retail and help people like Timmy choose the best cell phone plan for him – as long as I don’t have to explain to a computer program how we figured it out.

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Solutions and Ideological Justice

January 19, 2018June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

Anyone in the world of public education for any length of time knows that we have a tendency to oversimplify things which are more complicated than we care to admit and to complicate things which simply don’t have to be that difficult.

“It’s such a challenge to find and retain good teachers!”

(We should pay them more.)

“We should talk to the local colleges about their training programs.”

(Yes, and then pay teachers better.)

“I’m thinking of a book study for district administration on what makes an effective educator.”

(Great – I’m in. But you get what you pay for, and…)

“We’re bringing in a consultant. He’s pretty expensive, but I think it will be worth it to improve teacher quality.”

(Yes, or we could use that money to pay our teachers better…)

“Let’s show that TED Talk on how Google runs their home offices. I’m having some of the chairs painted bright colors like in the video and I’m hoping that will change the climate building-wide.”

(OK, but Google also seeks out top talent and then pays them well…)

“We put in all this training and then lose them to the private sector…”

(Which pays them better.)

You get the idea.

But some things are genuinely difficult. Sometimes there are no easy answers – at least not useful ones.

Terrorism is a fun topic that can’t help but enliven any social event. Let’s take a hypothetical nation with a corrupt or marginalized government, high poverty, and limited opportunity, which becomes a “breeding ground” (here’s to loaded language) for terrorism. We’ll call it Scarykillastan.

For purposes of our example, let’s grossly oversimplify our response options. We can crack down militarily – bombs and soldiers and counterstrikes and whatnot – or we can nation-build – schools and health care and clean water and jobs. As part of this gross oversimplification, let’s assume both options cost roughly the same up front.

If the goal is to reduce terrorism, the only consideration should be which option accomplishes this more effectively. But… is it?

Imagine for a moment that the 1960’s flower-in-the-rifle-barrel thing turns out to be legitimately effective – that if we establish schools and clinics and make sure the locals (including the terrorists) have access to food and clean water, terrorism drops by 90% (remember – hypothetical). On the other hand, if we bomb the hell out of them and their support systems – women, children, and neighboring innocents alike – terrorism drops locally by 75% but pops up in surrounding areas for a net drop of, say… 50%.

How many of us would still demand the latter option over the former? How many of us would still feel on some primal level that the peaceful response is WRONG – that it’s rewarding bad behavior? Coddling backwards mindsets and lifestyles? That it demonstrates weakness and lack of will?

I’m not mocking anyone. It genuinely feels backwards. Some of you will be angry even reading it as a hypothetical example. I’m also not sure things actually work out quite so efficiently in real life, although with this particular example I’ve heard some good arguments that they could. But many of us would argue against the hippie solution even if it repeatedly and demonstrably worked better – for less money, at the cost of fewer lives, and possibly even improving our moral standing in the world.

Child poverty and health care are another example – elements of a complex and extensive reality which I’m again grossly oversimplifying in hopes of making a point. Currently, there’s an unforgivably high number of minors in the U.S. who lack proper care – healthy meals, medical attention, counseling, mentors, etc. Some end up getting in trouble, going to jail or otherwise dropping out of mainstream society. Others avoid major legal entanglements but never rise above their class or circumstances. A number of them die and leave behind the next generation of mess. And the beat goes on.

Since this is a hypothetical (although the problem itself is very real), we can say with clinical detachment that these people are a huge drain on society. They cost money via emergency rooms, detention facilities, and prisons. They burn through resources when they go to school or use public accommodations, and are more likely to vandalize, pollute, and require attention from police or fire services. They don’t become as economically productive as they could, and often end up on public assistance of various sorts.

It’s frustrating, and expensive.

What if it could be demonstrated with great certainty that spending more on social services, education, health care, etc., leads to lower crime, higher graduation rates, and over time saves millions of local dollars? What if it could be established that taking better care of society’s most marginalized elements pays off in both human and fiscal terms? Just to stretch our hypothetical, let’s throw in some extra care for women, sex ed in every high school, and maybe some affirmative action, and have it all result in better neighborhoods, higher productivity, fewer unwanted pregnancies and STDs, and a reliable surplus in the state coffers. Would we do it?

It sounds like a no brainer – at least in my oversimplified hypothetical. But if it were that binary, that guaranteed, would we do it?

I’m not sure the answer is a universal “YES!” I’m not even confident I could get a majority on board.

Because for many of us, it just feels wrong. Like we’re enabling bad behavior, even if (in our hypothetical) it reduces bad behavior. Like we’re rewarding sloth, even if (in our hypothetical) more people are working and keeping jobs. Like we’re compromising on our values, even if (in our hypothetical) more people are living out our values as a result.

I’ve read and listened to conversations not so different from these in schools over the past few years. Sometimes it starts with experiments in restorative justice in place of traditional discipline, or some sort of cultural diversity training in an effort to reduce suspensions and referrals. Other times it begins with conversations about grading practices, or due dates, or student efficacy, or standards-based something-or-other.

I’ve written about some of these topics before; I’m not exactly a committed reformer when it comes to education policy or trendy solutions. And almost everything about public education is more complicated than social media and expensive presenters would have you believe.

But what if it wasn’t?

What if eliminating grades could be shown to dramatically improve student learning? What if eliminating detentions and suspensions could be shown to drastically reduce discipline problems (not just acknowledgment of those problems, but the actual problems)? What if taking more radical steps towards cultural equity and social justice didn’t create chaos and rolling eyes over talk of safe spaces and microaggressions, but could be repeatedly and objectively shown to improve behavior, and learning, and future success in life, and whatever else we think is important?

Would we enthusiastically begin doing those things?

Do we hesitate because the issues aren’t that simple? Because we’re skeptical as to whether this or that change could possibly have the dramatic impact its proponents claim? Is it because some of it sounds a bit trendy? Or trite? Or just… stupid?

There may be good reasons not to just dive in.

But is it possible that woven into the mix, just behind our carefully couched objections, is a much deeper layer of outrage, or annoyance? A primal demand for a different sort of justice, or vengeance? A vested interest in a sort of moral or cultural hierarchy?

Is it possible that whatever the very real challenges of counter-terrorism, or reducing child poverty, or improving public education, that the proverbial elephant in our subconscious room isn’t effectiveness or cost or validity, but a sense of ideological betrayal? Is there a morally outraged itch of some sort we can’t quite identify but which someone is threatening to stop scratching?

Because, seriously, CAN’T THOSE PEOPLE JUST GET THEIR %#(# TOGETHER AND THEN WE WON’T HAVE A PROBLEM ANYMORE AND WON’T HAVE TO KEEP BRINGING UP ALL THIS STUPID NEW-AGE INANITY?!? Or, more calmly, “Forget the results – can’t they just GET there the WAY we want them to?!”

You’ve probably thought or felt some variety of this in relation to at least some of these issues. I certainly have.

I’m not arguing for increased aid to Syria or more money for social programs (not here, anyway). I’m certainly not suggesting that more resolution circles or the mass burning of student policy handbooks will loose the Magi-gogical Unicorns to flit alongst your hallways, pooping rainbows of racial unity, well-mannered “grit,” and improved critical thinking skills across the curriculum.

Complicated issues are complicated even when we all think we want the same thing. But certainly the first step for anyone looking to make meaningful improvements or address deep-rooted difficulties should be to check our own motivations and attitudes. Otherwise, we’re in real danger of undermining the very values we claim to be defending, and hurting very real people in the process.

Edu-Meeting Bingo!

January 13, 2018June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

If you’ve been in the world of education for any length of time, then you’ve been to innumerable meetings, trainings, workshops, seminars, and a plethora of other required events – far too many of which end up feeling like they’re all the same thing.

That’s true in many fields, of course – Dilbert and The Office are built on shared experiences, as are sitcoms, satire sites like The Duffel Blog, and any movie directed by Rob Reiner.

But education comes with its own verbiage, assumptions, tone, and flavors – many of which are lost on those outside its ridiculously plain concrete walls. So why not spice things up a bit? Next time you and your peers are called to a faculty meeting or facing a required PD day, print out some of the Official Blue Cereal Education Edu-Meeting Bingo! Cards and “gamify” the experience – that’s a trendy thing to do these days, right? Heck, it practically makes the day “project-based”!

To be fair, not everything on the cards is automatically trite or without value. Sometimes things come up over and over again because they’re part of the tools of the trade, or because they genuinely matter. Nothing here is meant to be cruel or mocking in a diminishing way. Surely we can roll our eyes at the silliness without negating the essentials.

Then again, some of it’s just predictably dumb. I’ll leave it up to you which parts are which.

Feel free to add suggested items in the Comments below. Maybe they’ll get added to Round Two…

TAKE ME TO EDU-MEETING BINGO!

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My Karma Ran Over My Dogma (A Confessional)

December 11, 2017June 23, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 2 Comments

I always swore I’d never be one of those teachers. You know the type – frustrated and hostile, blaming their kids, and longing for the “good ol’ days.” To be honest, I’ve often kinda looked down on that flavor of educator – wondering why they’re still in the classroom, and hoping they find somewhere else to work out their issues. Besides, they give the rest of us – with our superior ideals and natural love of children – a bad name. It’s shameful!

But I hereby confess to you, my eleven faithful followers, that I am paying for that vanity. Dearly. Pride had a few laughs, and now… well, it’s been a long fall.

I rarely said it out loud, of course. I reject teacher-shaming in general, whatever its source. But I thought it. I felt a tiny bit superior. I may have rolled my eyes on occasion. I know I sighed a few times.

And I’m sorry.

It’s not like I’m blindly idealistic. We have to be realistic about the children in front of us. I’ve never bought into the suggestion that they’re “natural learners,” hungry for knowledge and ready to tackle any challenge if only we’d get out of the way and let them project-base, flip, and collaborate towards all those future jobs that supposedly don’t exist yet.

Nonsense.

I love my kids, but they’re almost… people – and people tend to do what’s easy and feels good unless we fight it. Constantly. Without external limits or learned self-control, we are shallow, savage creatures. To paraphrase the prophet Jeremiah, “the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?”

None of which actually bothers me most of the time. They’re kids. They’re not supposed to be ready to run everything. That’s why we make them come to school.

What is currently harshing my shiny is their stubborn conflation of two very different reactions towards academic expectations in this class – this optional class, this college-level coursework class, up for which they chose to sign.

What many of them are experiencing – what they’re feeling – is something along the lines of “I really don’t want to do this” or “this is hard and I’m not used to that… I do not like this feeling!”

But they don’t know that’s what they’re feeling, or at least they don’t want to admit it. Instead, they’ve substituted some interesting variations. “I can’t do this” is by far the most popular, followed closely by “I don’t like this and it is therefore invalid,” or my personal favorite, “this is stupid and horrible and wrong on every level; I must direct all of my energies towards denial and/or escape!”

You see the difficulty.

They’re not stupid. If they were, I’d be nicer to them. And while I’m far from the perfect teacher, neither am I insane or pedagogically naïve. I have some idea what I’m doing, even when I’m not clear exactly what they think is happening, or why.

So my lofty words and nurturing convictions have run up against the cruel karma of vanity and presumption. Well, that and their emotions. And backgrounds. And the twisted culture surrounding them.

They may intend, for example, to finally read the assigned material tonight. They’ll stall a bit, but eventually open the text, skimming a line or two before their internal dialogue takes over:

“The 15th century was defined by revolutions – the scientific revolution, the Renaissance, European adaptation of—”
“This doesn’t make any sense.”
“This is too much work.”
“Why do we even have to know this?”
*sigh*

“As western Europe expanded their role as the center of world commerce—”
“I hate this book.”
“Mr. Blue is insane if he thinks this somehow teaches me anything.”

“Maybe I’m just stupid. Except Monica doesn’t get it either, so that proves this is all just POINTLESS! Why doesn’t my counselor let me OUT of this CLASS?! I’M DOING EVERYTHING I CAN!?”
“My phone is buzzing. I’ll just check it real quick…”
{73 minutes later, the phone is put down because the battery is low.}
“That’s it – no more. I just spent an hour and a half on this and hardly remember ANY of it! I quit!”

I’m not even mocking them. (Well, maybe a little.) The experience is real, even if the reality is absurd. And that “can’t-shouldn’t-won’t” mentality tries to take over in class as well:

“You expect us to read all of this stuff ourselves? How can we know what’s important unless you give us some sort of guide?”

(I give them a guide.)

“I spent the whole time trying to do the stupid guide instead of actually learning!”

(I make the guides optional.)

“I hate this textbook. It’s so confusing.”

(They have a point on that one. I compile articles from a variety of sources, formatting and copying them as more engaging alternatives.)

“We’re just supposed to… read these? That doesn’t make any sense. Why are we reading in a history class?”

(Not sure how to respond to that one without sounding outright spiteful.)

“I’m not going to remember any of this by just reading it. We need to DO something with it.”

(We learn annotation, practice level questions, and apply other tried’n’true reading strategies. They turn in half-ass efforts and thus receive half-ass scores.)

“Why did I get a bad grade? I can read and understood this stuff without all that marking on it and everything!”

(I begin drinking more in the evening.)

“You should lecture more. I like your lectures.”

(Huh. That’s practically a positive. Alrighty, then – I put together some brief, interactive lectures… heavy on visuals and connections. Embed some media. A few small group moments. Takes me forever.)

“What are we—” {they see the screen}

“Oh.” {as if it’s toenail-swallowing day} “Lecture.”

(I wonder if they can sense my growing resentment. Probably not – that would require their attention. OK… there are some engaging, briskly-paced videos over this unit they can watch at home. I make a playlist and eliminate other homework.)

“No one watches those, you know. Aren’t you supposed to be the teacher?”

*sigh*

(More drinking. Well… they want to talk all the time. Let’s do something collaborative.)

{They choose their groups} “So then I was like, ‘I’m not sending you anything, loser!” *laughter and cackling and limited productivity*

{I choose the groups} “Why did you stick me with these people? I’d rather work alone.”

(OK. Partners are optional. And we’ll try something creative. Artsy-fartsy, even.)

“We have to COLOR?! How is that related to HISTORY?! Can I just write a paper or something?”

(OK, write a paper.)

“I hate writing. Everyone else got to color! How is that fair?!”

You get the idea.

There’s nothing wrong with a little variety. We’re always talking about that teacher “toolbox” and all those supposed “learning styles.” And generally, once you’ve won most of them over, they’ll try pretty much anything you ask because they trust you, or like you, or have otherwise decided to play school with you.

But if you haven’t… if they won’t…

It’s just…

DAMMIT.

Seriously. Just $&%#@*! and a baby goat.

You could go sell boats with your brother-in-law. He’s a windbag and a tool, but his house is twice the size of yours and he took his family to Hamilton last month; all you’ve got is the soundtrack you copied (is that even legal?) from the CD in your school library.

It’s just maddening sometimes.

Look, you feel what you feel. Own it, baby. If you’re hurt, you’re hurt. If you’re resentful, confess that resentment. And my darlings, if you feel stupid and beaten, just throw those arms open and soak in it for a moment. All those hours, all that potential, all of your genuine love for those freakin’ little ingrates – and they just… it doesn’t…

Hmph.

But you can’t stay there. Don’t become that caricature you’ve been trying to avoid since you were young and idealistic. Own that tenebrosity, and feel those uglies, but don’t marinate too long or you’ll lose your texture and the rice will burn.

Because the underlying reality remains. They’re teenagers, you’re the adult, and you’ve taken on a professional responsibility to learn them up good and hard whether they want it or not. The rest of the world thinks this is just a matter of “making them,” but you know better – no one can make anyone do anything.

If that weren’t obvious before this year, it certainly is now.

You’ll figure something out, or you won’t. They’ll get it, or they won’t. But you’ll keep trying, because you love them, and because you believe what you’re trying to teach them matters. Period. You’ll keep going because you decided long ago that this is what you do. Sometimes it’s glorious, and sometimes you lie in bed at night praying for snow. LOTS of snow. Or cholera. Maybe nuclear holocaust. You’d push the big red button yourself if it meant you didn’t have to see third hour again this week.

So what if it seems increasingly unlikely that Denzel Washington or Nathan Fillion will be playing me in one of those martyr-teacher movies – at least not one based on this year? I still sometimes manage DC’s Legends of Tomorrow territory – well-intentioned clusterfoolery that works itself out over time. And that’s OK. Progress is sporadic and incremental.

But I will not be so quick to judge those teachers next time, or to inwardly smirk at the superiority of my ideals and natural rapport over theirs. That was wrong even before the universe struck back.

Now that it has…

Well, dammit.

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All Or Nothing

November 9, 2017June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

It’s funny how badly we want things to be all one way or all the other. For such maddeningly complicated creatures, we seem wired to crave the binary.

Coffee is good for you, or it’s bad for you. You love her, or you don’t. I’m overweight because of genetics, or because I eat too much and don’t exercise enough. I’m an extrovert or an introvert. A patriot or a traitor. I can be trusted, or I can’t.

My success is my responsibility, entirely in my hands, or it’s the statistical result of a rigged system. I’m latently racist, or lavishly progressive. He’s handsome, he’s creepy; she’s hot, she’s not. I’m a good teacher, or a bad one. A success, or a failure. I’m full of wisdom, or I’m full of—

Well, you get the idea. (Or you don’t.)

I see it in my students all the—

Actually, correct that. I often, but not always, see elements of this in my students. Mixed with other factors, of course. Because nothing in real life is that absolute, whether we like it that way or not.

We’ve all had those kids who seem to believe in the core of their being that nothing is, was, or could ever be their responsibility to tiniest degree. They usually have parents who feel the same way, and who let us know regularly all the things we’re doing to thwart their lil’ Boo-Boo’s success.

He’s just acting out because he’s bored, you know. Because he’s SO SMART. He was tested as gifted when he was four. He needs someone with the proper training to meet his special-gifted-smartness needs.

I couldn’t do the assignment because I wasn’t here. You didn’t tell me. I didn’t understand. I had band. I had tryouts. I had to work. I don’t have internet. Our printer’s broken – I keep telling my dad we need a new one or I’ll flunk school, but that’s not my fault.

That’s binary. It’s declared victimization to the nth degree. The only thing surviving the constant barrage of injustice they so nobly endure is their outrage.

But honestly, I have far more little darlings on the other side. They don’t merely own their role in the whole learning-and-grades thing – they resist with holy fervor the suggestion that other factors might even play their own parts. And it’s far more prevalent when they’re struggling than when they’re succeeding.

They apologize for being tired – it’s just that sleep is a character flaw. Even protein is for students who don’t care about that biology test tomorrow. They didn’t ask for help earlier because they should have understood, if only they’d tried harder. They didn’t email because they didn’t want to bother me. They’ve never had trouble like this before – they used to be smart.

Last year.

Their grit is admirable, but lacks a certain… practicality essential to long-term survival. Their solutions tend to involve brute force – texting the essay a sentence at a time. Having a friend take pictures of every page in the chapter and snapchatting it to them. Moving into foster care in hopes of being accepted by a family with reliable internet. Redoing assignments in hopes of raising all those 88% and 93% grades to something respectable.

Far too often they end up thinking maybe they should drop this class.

OK – a few are just whiney. They’ve had it a bit too easy and now school’s getting hard and they’re crumbling. Suck it up, Boo-Boo! Put on your AP panties and get to learnin’!

But many are simply broken. Shattered. Not always from abuse at home or tragedies outside of school, although there’s more of that than any of us care to confront. Mostly, though, it’s just the full weight of “can’t” swinging on a long chain of “all-my-fault” BAM! right through their innermost sense of self.

It’s binary. Raised to take personal responsibility, they fear the least acknowledgment of factors outside their control – lest they find themselves “making excuses.” In not wanting to flake out, they take denial to the weirdest places – stuffing the resulting misery down into their little psyches for safe-hiding.

What they all need, of course, is balance. They’re rarely without the slightest trace of blame, but neither are they omnipotent beings who’ve simply chosen the path of ignorance and sloth. We’d like to help them learn to better manage their time, stay somewhat organized, and be a bit more practical when it comes to finding solutions.

And lest you think I’m coddling snowflakes here, kids feeling stressed out don’t process information or perform complex tasks very effectively. In other words, if we can’t help them find some balance – to become a little less binary – they won’t learn much.

Plus, they’re one thin veneer of civilization away from going all Lord of the Flies on you if you’re not careful…

My school is on trimesters, and this is the end of the first tri. I thought it might be nice to do a little review game, kinda dial back the intensity for a few days as they prepare for exams, but still reinforce some content. It was typical classroom stuff – I ask, they answer, teams get points, etc. I’ve done it for years with great success. If anything, I was worried it might be a bit funzy for an AP class. You know, too silly.

Then, I inadvertently released the Kraken.

I wasn’t being fair. Their team gets easy questions, while ours always gets the hard ones. Why are we doing this anyway? It doesn’t help. How are we supposed to remember all of this?! Can I just go work in the hall?! WHO CAME UP WITH THIS LIFE DESPAIR ANGER DARKFARGLE ACCUSING DEATHCRY!

It wasn’t everyone, and it didn’t spiral completely out of control. But boy, the angst did fly, in a variety of forms – complaints, frustration, helplessness, and some unexpectedly childish slapstick. I was… surprised. And mildly annoyed. What the everloving…?

Here’s the dirtiest of secrets about educators – it’s not how lazy we are, or that we really just want summers off. It’s not our incompetence or our hidden socio-political agendas or our secret need to have teenagers for friends.

It’s that any time we catch ourselves losing our patience with kids – tempers rising, clarity of thought fading, word choice becoming less and less ideal for the classroom – we’re immediately struck by an accompanying conviction that we’ve failed. We’ve blown it in Classroom Management 101. We’re annoyed with them, but from the deepest recesses of our internal pomp’n’circumstance comes the ululation that we’re supposed to be the teacher. It’s on us.

We misjudged the lesson. We screwed up the organization. We choked on difficult content. We let a 13-year old push our buttons. We got careless, or overly ambitious, or maybe we just suck at this but it’s too late for dental school.

It’s all my fault. I should have planned better. I should never have let them get so comfortable, or ridden them so hard, or changed direction, or kept things the same for so long. If only I’d spent more time… were more talented… just thought to…

You see the twisted little irony in play?

Most of us suspect deep down that every conceivable shortcoming of every child boils down to our failure to work the right miracles for those most resistant to our care. We rarely think of it in those precise terms – that would be insane, after all – but it runs through everything else we feel, think, say, or do.

Except when we don’t.

Because maybe it’s not us at all. Maybe it’s those darned kids. I’m busting my butt here, day in and day out, and they belittle my best efforts like that? I can’t help that they just won’t do the work. Horse-to-water, amiright?

I can’t control how badly they’re being raised. This is my classroom and I’ll run it how I think best. If they don’t like it, they can call up their representatives and ask for one of those vouchers they’re so hot’n’bothered over. It wasn’t like this back in my day. Someone really ought to do something about kids like this.

Binary. Just like our kids. We probably fight it a little harder; hopefully we’re at least aware of it a little more. Still, the gutters here at the Psychological Bowl are mighty generous while the actual lanes seem far too uneven and narrow.

Are there things you could be doing better? Probably. Is it worth examining your approach to classroom management? To lesson planning? To interactions with students? Absolutely. But is it all you?

Don’t be inane. Of course not.

But neither is it all them, and even if it were, it wouldn’t matter. We signed up to change the world one starry-eyed delusion at a time, and that means we do it whether it’s possible or not. Reality may be an inconvenience, but it will NOT be a permanent barrier.

All the more reason to stay aware of the lanes between the absolutes, even if we’re rarely quite sure exactly how much is us, or them, or the weather, or circumstances, or pedagogy, or…

*sigh*

They’re such maddeningly complicated creatures. Then again, so are we.

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