My target date for publishing is 09-08-09.

I've already published it on Amazon as an eBook. The price is currently set at $4.00

It will be available as a softback book for $9.50.

I'm setting the license as a Creative Commons instead of a copyright. I also plan to have it available for free as an audio book.

That's the barebones basics of it. I'm not great at self-marketing, so I can't imagine I'll have a ton of sales. But I always pictured it as something that someone could read on a couch or in a Starbucks or when they're not paying attention to a staff development meeting. So, I wanted it available as a hard copy and let my readers know about it.

I'm still deciding on my cover (I'd love your feedback):

Musings from my trip to rural Colorado

It's a common misconception that rural people are simpler. Slower, perhaps. More measured, maybe. But simple, no. The horse whisperer a few miles from my father-in-law's farm used seven different words for dirt, all in the same, drawn-out paragraph. He asks me, randomly, "Do you know who won American Idol this year?" I can't tell him an answer. "You're the first city dweller I've met who doesn't know the answer. You're alright."

We're at the rodeo the next day. It jars me into memories of Clovis, California, the town where I grew up. It has some of the most fertile soil on the planet, or so the locals claim. Most of it's being paved to make room for more tract housing so that people in the Bay Area can commute while still boasting a GreenPeace sticker, since their car is a hybrid. Everyone roots for the cowboy to stay on the bull. But if I've learned anything from my sons, it's that there is value in landing in the soft, moist dirt.

It's impossible to stay clean in Fruita. Even at the Farmer's Market, where everyone seems to dress up a little nicer, the land takes over. A few gusts of wind and it's dusty all over. When we go to the fair, Joel gets a glimpse of livestock. It's hard for a suburban kid to understand the life cycle when the animal flesh is wrapped in plastic and set on styrofoam. I find it foreign to see how so many of the people seem to love their animals and I mean really have an attachment and really take good care of them, but also know at the end of the year, they will be butchered and placed on their plates.

At the demolition derby, people (including myself) seem way to excited about hunks of machines crashing into one another. I lie to myself and claim that it's poetic motion telling the story of creative destruction. Really, it's the sheer car-nage that draws me in. The air smells like burnt rubber and diesel and I'm hooked.

I begin to wonder if the earth makes people myopic. Perhaps drawing one's boundaries between two mountains causes an us vs. them mentality. Maybe it's why I cringe so badly when the rodeo clown tells homophobic jokes. Then again, maybe I've grown too myopic in my urban filter. Maybe I lose touch with reality and with the land and with justice when everything seems as foggy as the brown cloud that huddles over this city. I'm a product of my geography.

It's impossible to see things well without being myopic. Just use Google Earth and catch a glimpse. I can see the entire world and miss the beauty of my own backyard. I can spend my whole life in a diverse metropolis and carve out my own world of like-minded people all the while boasting of my own tolerance.

We take a hay ride one night. Micah starts to sing a line from Sufjan Steven's Chicago, "If I was crying in the van, with my friend, it was for freedom. From myself and from the land. I've made a lot of mistakes, in my mind, in my mind." He can't say mistakes very well, but what he lacks in pronunciation skills he compensates with passion. The sun sets slowly. I learned in math class one time that it's an optical illusion when the sun seems bigger. Maybe that's true, but I'd phrase it a little different. Perhaps it's an optical illusion when we build cities and make the sun seem smaller.

That night, I sit next to the most beautiful woman in the world and gaze at the vast universe. If I gain anything from this trip, it's perspective. We don't see many stars in the city, so it's easy to see the universe as managable. Here, everything is both bigger and more approachable. Perhaps the greatest gift to an Icherus is to ground him.

I realize that most of the blog feedback suggested Sages and Lunatics, but most of my e-mail feedback suggested a better title would be either The Vinyl Paradox or Under Industrial Carpet. So, I'm down to three. I'll be releasing these as ebooks (as a pdf and in the Kindle format), as a regular book and as a free audio book (if you hear my voice you'll see why it's free!)

So, here are the covers so far. After seeing the covers, what one do you like the best? (Incidentally, I don't have permission yet to use the first one. It's a picture from Brazen Teacher's blog, but when I saw it, I said to myself, "Sages and Lunatics. This is what I believe in." The picture just seemed to capture that aching in my soul for what's missing: the authenticity, the history, the beauty.)

I also tried one that's a bit more abstract:

Every year when I do the career exploration unit, the most popular profession is crime scene investigator. I'm sure a real crime scene investigator would cringe at this and tell me that it's not at all like television. It's long hours and micromanaging superiors and a really hard degree and tediuos tasks and paperwork and stress.

I've never seen more than a few minutes of CSI. I get squimish at the the mention, much less the site, of blood. I have no desire to hear about decomposing flesh and the diffulty of finding a DNA sample. I get nervous when I see men in lab coats. So, with that in mind, I ask a student why he wants to become a crime scene investigator.

"I want to solve problems. I want to look at the evidence and figure it out. And if I can do that an help bring justice, how cool would that be?"

A girl chimes in, "What if science class was more like that? What if we could explore questions and find evidence and solve problems? What if we could actually use the science we learn?"

It's hard for me, as a social studies teacher, to hear that. I feel like I'm constantly trying to grapple with how to make the subject relevant to a student's life. So, in discussing Reconstruction, I have them debate the ideas of DuBois and Washington as they analyze racism in their world. It might be a bit of a stretch, but it seems to work.

One strategy that seems to work in the relevancy category is problem-based learning. Here, they become mini investigators. Much like CSI, they gather evidence, explore the data, ask their own questions and come up with solutions. Sometimes it's more analytical. Other times it's more creative. When it's working best, it's a little of both.

So, when we learn about the Palestinian-Israeli Conflict, we do a PBL and they attempt to broker a peace settlement. When we learn about the industrial revolution, the students do a PBL on factory workers, factory owners, progressive environmentalists and other groups in solving specific social conditions of the nineteenth century. In each case, students see the layers of viewpoints, engage in meaningful dialogue and see the reality of conflict resolution.

When we study globalization, I have them use the PBL approach to their own neighborhood. Here, they create a solution on how Maryvale can redefine itself in the midst of a globalized society and yet they also do a service learning project where they explore an issue in the community and create a solution. When it's over, we debrief on the inherent problems of the PBL method and danger in believing that everything is a problem and that every problem can be fixed. Sometimes the answer is a mystery.

Pretentious, Presumptuous and Perhaps Practical Advice

• Move from guided to independent inquiry when using the PBL approach. Ideally, you present a situation and they develop the questions, the research and the answer.
• Find ways to help students on the organizational aspects. For example, have the students do a Venn Diagram comparing solutions. Give the students specific data or information to use (as well as ways to find other information). Use some example questions if they struggle with that framework. Have the students do a metaphor of the problem.
• Test it out for a one-week unit and see where you will need to provide more guidance. Although there are many online versions of PBLs, you will probably find a format that works best for you.

After much research and a ton of thought, I decided I'll self-publish the book that I wrote. It's been a two and a half year process and I just can't imagine any publisher that I've looked into choosing it. I also decided to make fewer changes to it than originally planned.

The main theme of the book is recovering what is lost from standardized education. It's not a run-through-the-wild, hippie unschooling book. Nor is it a polemic against NCLB. It's personal, perhaps too much like a memoir, really. It's about a journey of attempting to be authentic in a standardized educational system. It's about recovering what was lost when school became a factory.

So, I'm stuck on title ideas. My friend Quinn convinced me to go with a very non-educational title. So, that helped me to narrow it down a bit. Here are the ideas:

• Sages and Lunatics - the idea here is about changing the system through being a sage (silently subverting it through working within it) and a lunatic (going against the system and therefore seeming crazy)
• Under Industrial Carpet - the idea is that there is something beneath the industrial metaphor, below the facade of factory-based, standardized education. The name began with me thinking about what I hate about schools and the first thing was that awful bluish gray industrial carpet and it just seemed like a metaphor.
• Unprocessed Poets - For me, teaching is a lot like poetry and it's hard when it's processed and chopped up and made into something uniform.
• The Vinyl Paradox - After I wrote a blog entry with that title, someone suggested that it would be a good title for the book, since the phenomenon of listening to a scratchy record and recovering what was lost is so similar to what this book is about
• Unfiltered - I hate standardized testing for the same reason I hate Budweiser and hate lunchmeat. Some things shouldn't be processed and filtered and broken down. On my best days, teaching is like a pint of hefeweizen.

Subtitles

• Recovering what was lost in standardized education
• Musings from a Not-So-Master Teacher

So, I'd really like your input. Either post a comment or e-mail me at socialvoice@gmail.com. Thanks!

The Super Bowl is the quintessential American holiday. It's a time where family and friends meet together, united by the shared values of commercialism, consumerism and watching a 300 pound line man violently throw down a quarterback. It's a day to relax, have a beer, laugh at low-brow humor and attempt to piece together the semi-coherant ramblings of John Madden. It fulfills our carnal thirst for blood, our hedonistic desire overindulging and our deeply social desire to feel better about our collective sin by ignoring the faults of one another.

With the sheer escape of the Super Bowl, I manage to avoid thinking about education. After all, today is the day to avenge all of the Arizona-haters I know. (Trust me, I work with a staff of Midwestern transplants who talk about the glory days of Michigan football or the shared experience of eating White Castle sliders). So, I spend a good portion of the game watching the Steelers hand it to the Cardinals.

Then I watch as Kurt Warner leads them into the No Huddle Offense. Here, they are explosive and quick and effective. Fitzgerald becomes the star again. The team plays as they were meant to play, not in the overly cautious method run by their offensive coordinator. As they cut to the commercials, I start to think about the No Huddle Offense and my classroom.

I hate the term classroom management. It's not management so much as it is leadership. Sometimes classroom leaders manage. Yet, often they rely on the inherant ability of students to self-manage. My class works best when there are a few procedures, some really clear roles and a solid vision of what the students accomplish.

A manager keeps the status quo. A leader moves people to something greater. A manager tells people what they can't do. A leader inspires people for what they can do. A manager uses systems and protocols and constant tasks to keep people "on the same track." A leader builds trust and lets people go their own way as long as they are working in harmony with the group. A manager calls all the plays. A leader recognizes when it's time to let the quarterback call the shots and use the wisdom shared during the mentoring of football practice."

Pretentious, Presumptous and Perhaps Practical Advice

• Make a list of all the things students know how to do from being in school and then don't harp on those things.
• Avoid nagging. Managers nag. They say things like, "How many times have I had to tell you to make sure that the reports are in the format . . ." and people hate them as a result.
• Instill the notion of trust by talking with the students about it. Then trust the students. For example, I let students get near my desk. I tell them I trust them to act mature and as a result, I've never had anything stolen from it.
• Articulate a clear vision for you class. Give them a mental picture of what your class could be and what they could accomplish.

Bored people are dangerous. I'm not referring here to the lazy boredom of a Sunday afternoon. There's nothing dangerous about sitting at home and saying, "There's nothing to eat and none of the movies see dull." I certainly wouldn't send an intervention when someone says, "I'm can't wait for this day to end." That's not boredom. That's tiredness. That's the desire for a new routine.

True boredom has nothing to lose. Angry people are difficult to handle, but they typically have transparent motives. Depressed are paralyzed by their own doubt and confusion and disappointed by the world. Yet, someone who is genuinely bored has lost hope and purpose and identity. It can turn almost sociopathic in the need to alleviate the boredom.

At the classroom level, the hardest student is the one who is genuinely apathetic. They'll say things that will throw the teacher off guard, push buttons just to get a rise and make the most engaging lesson feel uncool to the class. Imagine you have a kid who is already disillusioned with life. She's not an existentialist, really. She's not a Holden Caulfield pointing out the phoniness. You can handle Holden, because he still hopes and he still desires authenticity. But this girl arrives to class with a stone-hard stare and a "don't fuck with me" attitude. You'd like to know her story, but she's been hurt too much to waste her time. Life itself feels like a waste of time.

So, this girl is bored with life. She's not necessarily suicidal, because she feels nothing. Somewhere inside she's hurt and she's sad and she's scared, but the wall of apathy is so high that she won't let anyone in. After the second week of school, she starts finding ways to alleviate the boredom. She spreads gossip on social networking sites. She develops rumors about teachers. Some call her a bully, but the motive is boredom.

Teachers will mistakingly think she wants power. She wants to control her universe because she feels so powerless. That might be. But really, she just wants to get a rise, a fix, a relief from the non-stop boredom of a hopeless life. She thrives on the drama.

She figures out a way to create a world reminiscent of Days of Our Lives. Other students, facing the mild boredom of a tedious school day engage for moments. They'll spread some rumors and avoid others. They'll watch the battles and see the full-fledged fights. Like a bored stay-at-home mom, they enjoy the brief moments of escape. But the Gossip Girl, bored with life and wearing her apathetic stare, keeps the soap operas going non-stop.

Luckily, most of the soap operas are more like the novelas. They'll be really intense for awhile, but they end quickly. So, don't be surprised if there's a rumor about you sleeping with another teacher. Don't be surprised if kids bully in really brutal ways. Don't be surprised if a great kid gets sucked into the soap opera and spreads rumors about her friends. I'm not saying this to be cynical. It's just that this myth that all children are innocent is skewed. Apathetic gossip girl had her innocence stolen at some time that she'll never reveal and now she's victimizing anyone in her path.

I wish I had a solution here. There's no magic formula with the soap opera maker. Deep within, though, I believe in redemption. I've seen apathetic gossip girl soften over a school year. I don't, however, think a teacher alone can "save" this child. Instead, it requires a team of people who care enough to get hurt in the process. Slowly it can move from soap opera to Shawshank Redemption, with a student imprisoned by her own apathy finding a path to freedom.

Pretentious, Presumptuous and Perhaps Practical Advice

• Recognize that bullying occurs and understand the element of boredom within this. Do your best to protect kids and provide a safe environment. In the culture, climate and procedures, make it clear that bullying is never acceptable. Be vulnerable to the class in general and talk about your own bullying experiences.
• Be careful with the apathetic gossip girl (or boy). Often, there is an element of manipulation. If you stay firm and recognize that it's not your job to be the savior, you'll find that you can have moments where redemption occurs. It's just not quick and magical. It's often slow and painful.
• Even if the apathetic kid angers you, find a way to disengage. Recognize ahead of time what your "buttons" are and be prepared for a response when he or she pushes them.
• Try and find ways to engage the apathetic kids in a dialogue. If there is a place for it within your curriculum, ask hard philosophical questions. If a child seems to enjoy the conflict of human drama, there might be literature that would peak that child's interest. True boredom seems to have no cure, but sometimes a book or a lesson or an activity will draw that student in.
• Like all children, the bored student probably still has a desire for authentic motivation (see the chapter on authentic motivation for more practical ideas on this). If the lessons are meaningful, this student might not find as much of a need for the escape into the soap opera world.

As I leave to take out the recycling, Joel asks to walk with me.

"Joel, it's one hundred and fifteen degrees outside," I explain.

He stares at me confused. That's right, four year olds don't have an accurate view of the farenheit system (or for the matter the metric system).

"The ground is really hot and you'll burn your feet," I tell him. "So, no you can't go with me."

"How about this. I go outside with barefeet. I won't cry. I promise. If it hurts I'll never do it again."

We take it out and he bounces up and down the whole time. It's probably not the best parenting move I've ever made, but I'm thinking it's a part of him learning natural rather than adult-imposed consequences.

"Did it hurt?" I ask him.

"Yes," he tells me.

"Are you going to stay inside next time?"

"No, because it hurt but I can get used to it hurting. If I get used to the hurt I won't have to look for my shoes every time I go outside."

It's interesting four year old logic. I mention this, because I know Joel isn't a particularly precocious child. When I've helped out in his Sunday school class I hear the same types of ideas. Occassionally I'll tell a story like this and people will look at me like it's fiction, but it makes me wonder if they've ever actually sat down with a four year old and had a conversation. One of the fun things about these conversations is that they prove something about innate ideas and socialization. I'm just struck by how anti-mainstream America his view on pain seems to be.

Sometimes I come across as anti-chain in my mentality. I love the local flavor of Grimaldi's or Lenny's Burger or Chino Bandito. I think My Nana's tortilla chips beat anything Frito-Lay tries to offer. Despite my penchant for glorifying all things parochial, there are a few chains that I love:

1. In-N-Out: Fresh ingredients, really inexpensive, better tasting than most sit-down restaurants. I grew up going to In-N-Out with my dad. My mom loved Carl's Jr. so we never went to In-N-Out as a family, but it took one time before I was hooked. You can watch them make french fries by cutting real potatoes and frying them. Innovative concept, huh? I love the fact that it has a simple menu. Hamburgers, fries, sodas, shakes. Nothing else. No spicy chipotle butter wrapped pita or anything like that.
2. QT (Quick Trip): On some level, I believe they are a cult. Seriously, I've known way too many people who started working there. They all start to hang out and buy big trucks and they are cut off from friends and family, because they work the graveyard shift. It's got a slight tinge of Jim Jones to it. On another level, they seem like an intra-national revolutionary movement, colonizing America one suburb at a time. Despite this, they're always fast and clean. They have every soda imaginable at their fountain and for 64 cents I can get 32 ounces of Vanilla Cherry Dr. Diet Coke Pepper.
3. Starbucks: I would go local if any place could brew a better cup of coffee. Besides, I have so many memories of meeting with Brad the Philosopher or Quinn the Business Bohemian or my humble genius friend Dan. It's where Christy and I met for our first date. It's where my friends and I met when we ditched class in high school.
4. IKEA: We've never bought anything there before, because everything we get is used or super-cheap. But I think just about everything they offer looks cool.
5. Costco: If I could choose what to do every Saturday, I would go to Costco and have a buffet lunch of samples. The people are nice. They have decent, really cheap pizza and soft serve ice cream and we can buy a year-long supply of bathroom tissue without feeling embarrassed, because the lady in front of me has a half-ton barrel of mayonnaise.
6. Barnes and Noble: I feel guilty every time I buy stuff at Amazon.com, because I know that it's helping to put Barnes and Noble out of business. Yet, when I daydream about retirement, I think about someday sitting on a cushy chair at Barnes and Noble and reading about travelling rather than having to actually take and effort and travel. I'd add to this Bookman's, which I think might be Arizona only. If I can't find a book, it's almost always there.
7. Sprouts: This may not qualify as a "real" chain since it's Arizona-based. But they have the best bread, the best value in produce and a relaxed atmosphere.

I've known people who worked in all of the above establishments and in each case, they seem to take a pride in their workplace. In most cases, those places take care of their customers by taking care of their employees. Rather than spending a lot of money on advertising, each of the above chains relies on the value of word of mouth.

A note to the Cartwright Elementary School District: try using the same approach. If you are scared about losing students to the charter school, the answer isn't slick marketing. The answer is focusing on quality, taking care of employees and designing and environment that is happy. If you want to use the business model, quit trying to be so much like McDonald's and try being more like In-N-Out or Starbucks.

I'm watching The Office and I see the most offensive commercial for a horror film. The basic plot premise involves a family who adopts an orphan who turns out to be a violent, possessed little girl. It's the same idea as any horror film - the enemy is the outsider who looks friendly but turns violent. It's the premise behind The Birds and the Halloween movies. It's the idea of paradise lost, of the serpent in the garden.

So I imagine an orphan, a kid adopted at a later date, whose earliest memories are of hired hands at institutions and well-intentioned do-gooders bringing presents. I consider the one who is never chosen and I imagine what happens when he goes back to school and the teachers keep saying "parents" instead of "parents and guardians," and it reminds him every day that a group home isn't really a home at all. And I'm struck by the fact that some of the kids are already afraid of the orphan because he's different.

I think about the horror film narrative and the bits and pieces of Fox News I saw while working out. According to some, the "illegal alien" is invading with the goal of conquering our culture, ruining our langauge, forming street gangs and raping our women. It makes me angry, because those are my students and that's my community. They aren't a bunch of street thugs. They're hard working families, risking their lives to provide for a family.

It's the same thing that happens with the foster care student. It's the same loaded language and the same scapegoating and the same scary music and emotional manipulation. In all honesty, it's the same approach I see in many areas of school. The following are some of the things that I'm supposed to be afraid of:

• low test scores
• kids falling behind
• school improvement
• taking risks (or going against the formalized curriculum)
• mean parents
• the State Department of Education
• looking bad in front of other teachers (there's a slow, silent cenorship that goes on, where teachers are afraid to be open and transparent)
• the neighborhood (they never say it explicty, but they give us books about poverty and talk about "the demographics" in a way that says "this place is scary" and it really angers me)

Much of this derives from the political and social elements present in No Child Left Behind. In staff development meetings, we see charts with the "worst case scenario." They use vivid language and there's a dark room and after awhile it might as well be a horror film. As a new teacher, it was hard not to get sucked into this mentality. After all, I already felt insecure about what people thought of me, whether I was doing a good job and confused about classroom management.

Over time, I learned that the fear-mongering is about as accurate as Fox News or the horror film about the orphan kid. Test scores aren't the bottom line. Parents aren't the enemy. The neighborhood is not scary. Being open about mistakes won't ruin my career, but actually bring me closer to the staff. The State Department doesn't care about my classroom and they lack the ability to monitor it. Taking risks won't ruin my career, but actually improve it.

Pretentious, Presumptuous and Perhaps Practical Advice

• When you see fear-mongering, just laugh at it in the same way that you laugh at the local news when they try and scare you with their commercials.
• When you start getting scared, it's time to find a real jaded veteran teacher and ask, "Does this happen every year?" It will give you some perspective.
• If you find yourself scared, ask yourself the following questions, "Will this change the students' ability to learn? Will this cost me my job?" If the answer is no, there's really nothing to be afraid of.
• Do what you believe is right, regardless of the implied fear. This isn't the most practical advice, but it's been successful. If you make learning authentic, the scores will rise. After that, they'll leave you alone.

Schools make a huge deal about differentiated instruction yet they seem to support a standardized approach to discipline. It's somehow "unfair" to treat a hyperactive loud student differently in discipline than a mild-mannered introvert, while we take into account personality, desires and learning style in crafting instruction. What if the answer is a differentiated approach based upon individual students? What if the answer is not in a grid or a pyramid or any other prepackaged structure, but in being creative?

I'm not suggesting we make excuses for students, but that we find creative solutions that mirror reality. In a classic episode of The Cosby Show, Theo earns a D. He drones on and on in a touching, "why can't you just love me for who I am" self-pitying monologue. The audience members provide their "ahhs" and it seems to be yet another touching, self-esteem pumping moment of sitcom television. Except it's on the beginning of the episode and Dr. Huxtable has a solution of his own.

In the midst of this whiny monologue, Theo claims he needs to be treated as an adult. So, Cliff designs a system with Monopoly money where Theo has to earn his room and board. The solution becomes classic sitcom material, with Theo begging for a chance back into the protective world governed by his father.

It got me thinking about this, though. The best discipline approach is often one that combines authenticity and a knowledge of the student's personality. While I wouldn't advocate adopting the Cosby Monopoly game (though some schools have ruined motivation with their own token economy), there are moments when teachers can take the artificiality out of the system and discipline in a way that's a little more creative.

I'm not great at this. I'm not a fan of conflict and I prefer a quick conversation. However, I have had moments where a creative solution worked. For example, one student had a really hard time sitting in his chair. This happened for about two weeks. The rest of the class had learned this procedure well. So, I pulled him aside and said, "I realize that this chair is really bothering you, so I'll tell you what. No chair today. You can walk around. You can sit on the ground. But when you are ready to stick to sitting in the chair like everyone else, you'll have a chance." It lasted ten minutes before he asked to have a chair. I went really over the top on this one and had him apologize to his chair for abandoning it. I played the voice of the chair. With a little humor and about two minutes of class time we were able to fix the problem.

When it was over, we had a great discussion after class about the need to stay focused. We brainstormed solutions and we talked about careers that exist "in the real world" that offer a change in pace. He said that he enjoyed the service projects and that he some day wants to be a nurse. With his humor, compassion and energy level, I'm guessing he could do well with that career some day.

Last year, I caught a girl tagging on my chairs. I told her, "I'm not going to write you up. I don't think you need to come to school on Saturday. But I will be spending my lunch period cleaning chairs and the kids in our book club will probably volunteer to help. If you want to show up and help fix this, it would be helpful." She volunteered to go after school instead and then she went the extra mile and dusted the classroom as well. To me, this was a healthy, authentic way of restoring relationships. Yet, we also discussed the reality that, in the big world, restitution is financial and comes with a permanent record.

Don't get me wrong. Creative solutions can fail miserably - as bad as the grid and the pyramid. For example, I once said to the class, "Who is tired of Javier talking?" Javier sat there, ashamed, as he stared at the hands. It was real. It was creative. But he never spoke in class again. Even after I apologized, he spent the last two months of the year in silence.

Pretentious, Presumptuous and Perhaps Practical Advice

When using differentiated discipline, ask yourself the following questions

1. What is this child's personality like? How will he or she respond? Some kids would have blown up at losing a chair. This student, however, had a little fun with it and learned something in the process.
2. Does this solution have the potential to embarrass a child? If it does, it's a bad solution.
3. How does this solution mirror reality? In other words, how will the "real world" handle a solution like this? If a student is talkative, what are some "real world" scenarios that deal with a talkative person? (For this reason, I let kids doodle during discussions as long as they can still answer questions)
4. Does this consequence lead to deeper thinking on the part of the student?
5. When will you debrief with the student and see about what they learned from the consequence?

In going back and re-editing my book, I'm realizing that there were moments when it suffered from something I see in a lot of teacher books. It's a sort-of smug view of the rest of the staff. For example, Rafe Esquieth is a phenomenal teacher, but he creates quasi-enemies and gives them derogatory names. Esme Raji Codell is not such a great teacher (she's mean, vindictive and never shows a moment of humiltiy, much less humanity in Educating Esme) and she creates a straw man of an administrator.

Sometimes I read this books and think, "Man, I wouldn't want to be that guy. I wouldn't want to be the librarian that Rafe Esquieth just ripped to shreds for using the library for a baby shower." I'd hate to be a teacher in Another Planet villified in order to paint a dishonest picture of the ails of public education.

Honestly, fellow teachers have saved my teaching career. I'm scared, really scared to leave Borman and go to Castro, because the staff members have been so great. Don't get me wrong. I can be a task-driven loner. I can be the staff lounge wallflower. But I have a few friends who have encouraged me on my worst days. Moreover, I have a few acquintances, who, despite being distant relationally, were there at the right time for me.

Sometimes I wonder if many of the most popular teacher books seem to be set up with the same general structure. Whether it's a how-to or a memoir, it seems that many of them are designed to "inspire," but the inspiration comes through seeing how much of a badass a teacher is by comparing them to their surroundings. If it's urban and the kids are poor that helps. But if the other teachers suck at their job, it's even better.

From my experience, I'm still learning from my colleagues. Sure, we get in annoying battles and occasionally the staff lounge gossip gets bad. Yet, the reality is that it's the community of teachers around me who saved me from burnout over and over again.

for what it's worth, that's not me -- and never will be

I'm not a Trekkie. I swear that I have never attended a conference, seminar or book-signing event connected to any of the characters. I don't own a Spock outfit, complete with the spikey ears. I don't think that Captain Kirk has ever been much of a badass. (Indeed, I would suggest that colonizing foreign planets just to get it on with an alien is probably not the smartest form of intergalactic diplomacy)

Despite this, I admit that I have seen a few episodes of the origninal as well as Next Generation. I give the writers credit for innovative plots with semi-realistic twists (not entirely realistic. No one ever seems to get dirty in space). What amazed me, though, was how they seemed to get along. Seriously, Whoopie Golberg could play the role of counselor and actually sound coherant as she dealt with the stoic Jean Luc Piccard. Even in the older version, where Scotty would get angry and yell, the crew functioned well.

So, I started to think about Star Trek in the midst of a really dysfunctional staff meeting. Teachers began bickering over what type of candy and snacks we should give students on the heavy-handed, state-mandated standardized test. I found it odd that teachers who always complain about students misbehaving during group work were themselves unable to work cooperatively. For all the Spencer Kagan worksheet we recieved in past professional development, the sum total of our collective knowledge was lower than any one of us individually. Call it synergy in reverse.

At this point, I made a list of what makes cooperative learning work on the Starship Enterprise. (I swear, though, that I am not a Trekkie. I actually had to look up the spelling of the term Trekkie just to get it right):

• A common cause: If teachers want cooperative learning to work in their class, the groups need to have a deeper sense of what they are doing beyong "finish this task."
• A common enemy: In Star Trek, the enemy was the Klingon. The enemy in our class is either standardized education or laziness, depending on the day. Kids will hear me take shots at both. So, as we approach projects, these work well as our unspoken enemies.
• Democratic leadership: If members are afraid of another student, they won't speak up. yet, when I watch an episode of Star Trek I notice how each of the members speaks openly against the commander. In many student-led groups, a strong leader will emerge. Group think will result if I don't structure it in a way that allows for open dialogue.
• Clearly defined roles: Every member had a specific job with given tasks. Occasionally this failed, leading to "I'm a doctor dammit, not a . . ." Which leads to the opposite side of the spectrum: we need to be flexible with roles and allow students to move within roles when necessary. If cooperative learning is going to work in class, they need to know their roles but also have the freedom to modify these roles when the situation demands it.
• Shared Values: This happens on an intuitive, class-wide level. But small groups won't work well on assignments if there are sharp, conflicting values.

Pretentious, Presumptious and Perhaps Practical Advice

• Decide if you want groups to be remain constant or change. I like to keep groups static. Most teachers I know feel the opposite way. However, I like to see groups form tight bonds and move to the next level over the course of a year.
• Make a brainstorm of cooperative learning activities to use in your class. I have some strategies on my Resource Blog if you're interested. I'll be adding more over time.
• Create group roles for your small groups. I have four group roles that I like to use in my class.

Photo Credit

Flickr Creative Commons

http://spencerideas.blogspot.com/2009/06/group-roles.html

One of my favorite Cheers episodes involved the day that Cliff Clavin appeared on Jeopardy. Finally, he had a venue where people cared about his theoretical knowledge. In fact, it was less than mere theory. Cliff simply memorized facts and recalled them in a 1980s version of Google. So, Cliff is up there on the pedestal and for the first time in his life he's winning. The dejected, rejected, annoyingly knowledgeable mail carrier from Boston proves his worth. Then he wagers it all and, when he doesn't know the answer, he writes, "Who are three people who have never been in my kitchen?"

The educational system does a fine job reproducing this scene on a daily basis. We stuff students full of facts so that they can vomit them out on a standardized test. No wisdom. No critical thinking. Simply disconnected facts, sliced, diced and memorized. Some students succeed in this game. Then, they reach the last round and they find that they really are in jeopardy. Here, they lack the ability to think well and the world throws them a question they cannot answer from sheer memorization. Sadly, many of them stammer out an awkward Cliff Clavin response.

Most teacher prep programs do not encourage this Cliff Clavin approach. Every year, I watch new teachers with innovative ideas talk to me about Constructivism, Multiple Intelligences and differentiated instruction. They promise to do away with grades and replace them with student-centered portfolios. Often, these new teachers have a strong connection to the notion of relevancy and authenticity.

Sadly, most teachers revert to the Cliff Clavin approach after the first quarter. The reasons are both internal and external. I really can't blame them. On an internal level, the teachers begin to doubt their ability and become more dependent on the standardized curriculum. In many cases, they have a strong drive to see what the students learned and they realize the efficiency of worksheets or multiple choice tests. They grow less bold and innovative and more measured and cautious.

The internal reality mirrors the external pressures. Curriculum specialists, principals, district office representatives and department chairs feel the pressure to increase academic achievement. This constant worry transforms into a heavy-handed and yet condescending micromanaging. "That's great that you want students to use movement, but it's a reading class and they need to have their nose in a book." or "I'm glad you have high expectations, but do you really think every kid can track with Aristotle." Using benchmark data, the Sultans of Standards implement reforms that they expect the new teacher to follow.

So, the new teachers feel stuck in the Cliff Clavin mentality, in the binge and purge, knowledge bulimia. (I realize the metaphor might seem crass or insensitive, but I'm quite serious here. Like an eating disorder it has the potential to kill learning, kill motivation and kill hopes and dreams) If they are not careful, the new teachers become codependents by default.

Occasionally, new teachers stand up to the system, face their own self-doubt and relentlessly pursue what they know to be the best approach. Unfortunately, they come across as brazen, arrogant and self-righteous to fellow staff members. Rumors spread, often with a pleasant tone, "She is nice, but misguided. She's full of theory, but she doesn't recognize the reality of No Child Left Behind," or "He's working so hard and sure his lessons are fun, but his kids are out of control."

A better approach is the silent sage. Here, you don't rail against the system, but quietly subvert it. So, you smile and nod when they go on a rant about test scores and data. You pretend to take notes while you sketch cartoons. You ask the Sultans of Standards for advice, all the while creating innovative lessons. Just to beat them to the punch, you add a section on your lesson plans about the educational theory backing you up. Occasionally, you send out an e-mail complementing the curriculum specialist on some idea she gave you that you are now using. But you still retain the creative control and you work in subtle ways to sabotage the standardized process.

Pretentious, Presumptuous and Perhaps Practical Advice

• Figure out your best practices. You learned these in college, but it might be helpful to create a web with actual strategies. Or, if you are a list person, try that. Use this when creating your lesson plans. Remember, the professors teaching at many of the universities are on the cutting edge of educational research. They probably did a great job providing you with the theoretical background you need.
• Make a list of core convictions about teaching and then reflect at the end of the quarter if your teaching fit your convictions.
• Pick your battles. You may not want the whole class to be like Cliff Clavin, but there might be a time and a place for a Jeopardy style memorization exercise.
• Stay quiet in department meetings. Or play the fool and act like you didn't understand something when you failed to implement it. I know it might seem deceptive and perhaps it is. But I don't think it's a lie to say, "I didn't really get this," when you will never "really get" why students would take test prep packets every day for a month.

A few people have e-mailed me about what happened with my short, random musings. I'm actually going to take some of those and try them in a new medium, most likely a political cartoon / sketch or perhaps a short video or podcast. I've added a few more of the Graven Images cartoons to my Visual Musings Blog if you're interested in seeing them. (There's also a few sketches from my life.)

Hey, if you normally read this blog and you are curious about my other rants on education, check out my Visual Musings Blog. No one has commented on anything yet and I have only two subscribers. I've also been adding a ton of practical ideas to the Practical Musings Blog and I'll be posting five new videos and podcasts this Saturday. So, even though this blog has been on break for awhile, I'm still up to my usual blogging self.

We gather together in the cafeteria as two snake oil salesmen present a the magical management potion. By reciting an incantation on a lamenated card, we will prevent discipline problems from escalating. For their part, the men seem like the most sincere wizards and for a brief moment I find myself slipping into the magical thinking.

There are no five easy steps. There are no magical formulas. No phrases, no cards, no pyramids or grids or anything will make discipline easy. At its core, classroom management is a messy ordeal because it is relational and relationships are messy. A matrix seems great. It's a streamlined, effecient procedure. The problem is that students are rarely streamlined and effecient in behavior. There are layers of gray. One kid might ask earnestly, "Why do we have to do this?" and another kid might ask the same question with a tone of accusation. Where does that fit into the matrix?

I remember watching Bewitched as a kid. Samantha had it easy in her ability to magically make things appear, freeze or disappear. She could summon up a spell, wiggle her nose and the situation seemed to correct itself. Except, it never really did. Ultimately, the biggest conflict that existed in Samantha's life were the balance of family and her jobs (even if they were tied to her house), her fear of being found out and her need to be herself, the conflict between her mother and her husband. In other words, even with the ability to wield magic and streamline life effeciently, she still had significant problems.

Don't get me wrong, the magic helped. Samantha could solve some serious dilemnas in half an hour. Yet, it was her relational expertise, not her magic, that fixed things. In other words, even if I, as a teacher, could find the magical potion, I would still have discipline issues in my classroom. As I watch Bewitched, I am reminded that the true magic is the ability to handle relational conflict with maturity, sincerity and tact.

Pretentious, Presumptuous and Perhaps Practical Advice

• Use rules and procedures. Figure the preventative side out, but then realize that discipline issues will occur. Remember, people get in fights at Disneyland (a location with a damn-near perfect socially engineered environment). Relationships are messy.
• Seriously think through things like tone of voice, body language and other aspects of communication.
• Although the discipline matrix might be important, work outside of the school discipline process when necessary (which for me is as much as possible). If you can handle discipline in a relational way choose that route.
• If things get really crazy, take a prep and observe a teacher who handles a class well. Take notes on the relational elements - on the language, the body language, the intangible tone and feel and see if you can break any of that down.

Photo Credit

Flickr Creative Commons

http://www.flickr.com/photos/w-ode/1094406923/

When I was a kid, I remember wishing that I had a place where people would yell, "John" as I walked through the door. I felt envious toward the under-achieving Norm on Cheers and thought, "I wish I had a place like that. I wish I had a neutral zone free of bullying." I never felt known at school. Instead, I had to pretend constantly - pretend to be more mainstreem, more masculine, more interested in cartoons and less interested in books. Call it the internal thirst for community. Or perhaps the need for an introverted kid to find a few friends, but I grew up always feeling a nagging sense of dissapointment with the social element of school. It's not that I was socially awkward, but just overly introverted.

In the ideal classroom, it would be like Friends, except without the weird, almost incestuous Ross-and-Rachel, Chandler-and-Monica, hook-up free for all. My wife explains the draw of Friends to me one evening. "It's what every community should be. They are known, deeply known and they show one another grace constantly. They're honest, brutally honest sometimes, but it's always with the knowledge that they are accepted. Think of any place where a geek like Ross and a socially awkward semi-geek like Chandler and a hippie folk singer like Phoebe and a spoiled rich Rachel would all hang out. I think people like the show because they are thirsting for deep community."

Most people I meet say that they had the deepest community in college. For some, it was a toned-down Central Perk style network of friendshihps where they'd meet together and solve the world's problems over a cup of coffee. For others, it was a fraternity with about the same amount of codependency as members at Cheers. Either way, they felt a draw toward the community and now they miss it.

In my ideal world, I'd have a Starbucks-style classroom and a class size of twelve kids. I'd track with them deeply, ask hard questions and develop a tight bond. We'd do community service and paint murals and film documentaries together. Students would look forward to attending class in the same way that Americans used to look forward to the virtual community that existed every Thursday night.

Okay, so that dream might never become a reality. However, over the years, I find myself developing a tighter community as a class. I'm not sure exactly how it happens. It's an intangible thing. But, over time, my class starts to feel like a safe haven for kids. Don't get me wrong. It's not perfect. Students hold grudges and get upset and all of that, but on our best days we can feel like a non-alcoholic version of Cheers.

Pretentious, Presumptuous and Perhaps Practical Advice

• Even though teachers can't be friends with students, there is a sort-of middle zone with the socially awkward kids. And when other students see a teacher really making an effort with a socially awkward kid, it makes a difference.
• Never make fun of students. It's way too easy and it can get a great laugh, but a safe place can be fragile. So, I try and stick to self-depricating humor.
• Explain really firmly that bullying in any form will not be tolerated and take a rough, tough stand on it. The only time I ever kick a student out is when they bully.
• Try and avoid punishing the whole class for one thing. Not only will it piss off the students as a whole, but it will also ruin the sense of community that exists.
• I avoid ice breakers. Introverts hate them. They want the ice to melt slowly. Extroverts who don't need the ice broken love them. So, I'd avoid it altogether.
• Be vulnerable and share about your own life. This helps create the sense of knowing and being known.

Photo Credit

Flickr Creative Commons

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cdnphoto/429871904/

In middle school we run by a "team" concept. At first the term conjures up images of high fives and spitting sunflower seeds and wearing matching uniforms. In reality, teams in schools are more like forced families, forged together by a common desire to help students learn, but often clashing in values, ideas and personalities.

I've been fortunate to have good teammates, but one area where I always clash is in the post-discipline routine. When a student becomes a perpetual problem in class, teachers look to the parent for a solution. It sounds great, but it quickly becomes a shame fest. Even when using delicate language, teachers will pull a parent from their daytime job, then go one-by-one explaining all the bad behaviors that the child does. This is somehow supposed to lead to change, with the parent (who isn't even at school) being part of the solution.

I've never been in a situation where all of the adults closest to me in my life say something bad about me. Maybe I'm just oversensitive, but I'm not sure if I would have differentiated between a personal attack and a criticism of behavior when I was twelve, either. Even in a smile or with a pleasant voice I would have felt humiliated and I would have lost trust in adults. Maybe I would have behaved externally, but I'd never be authentic and I'd never be vulnerable.

So, I'm watching Judge Judy one day while getting my car repaired. It's the only other option besides staring at grease-stained walls or an old Coke machine still advertising New Coke. She's angry ahead of time. I think people like how tough she is and how quick she is to see through the lies. She has a quick response, rapid-fire questioning technique. It's more about talking and less about listening. She's not so much a counselor as a preacher of good behavior.

A man at the mechanic's garage turns to his wife and says, "See this is what our society needs. Could you imagine if every parent could be more like Judge Judy? Could you imagine if schools would get on board and dare to discipline." His wife tells him that we've spared the rod and now we have a generation of spoiled children.

I turn to the screen and see a kid and he looks scared. A few times he lies in his defense and stammers out some phrases. I can't remember the crime, but it seems really stupid and the audience laughs as she humiliates him. It's during this that I begin to wonder about the stupid things the audience members did when they were kids. I start to think about how we used to tip over Porta-Potties and how we used to hop fences on really long runs and jump in people's pools. I think of the sheer stupidity of cramming ten people into my friend's old Chevelle.

I could easily imagine Judge Judy at one of these discipline meetings. She'd have the kids and the parent in tears and she'd say something trite, like, "Do you want to end up in prison?" and "This behavior is unacceptable." She'd go on the attack and spout off some of her patented moralistic advice and people watching would praise her hardline appraoch.

And then I think of another man, more famous than her, who would stand up to the shame fest and say, "Whichever of you makes no mistakes can throw the first stone." He'd show empathy and he'd comfort the kid and he'd say, "No matter how badly you screw up, you're still accepted." Don't get me wrong, he wouldn't be a pansy. He'd say to the kid, "Don't do that anymore. Rethink what you're doing," but he would realize that justice and love are not two opposing forces, but ideals that work in harmony in a mystery.

Pretentious, Presumptuous and Perhaps Practical Advice

• Keep the post-discipline meetings right after the incident.
• Avoid the whole "running log" with a student. If you start using a heavily documented list to bring up in front of parents it will feel like an attack
• If a child is really out of control in class, he or she is probably out of control at home. Asking parents to fix this is sort-of a waste of time
• The best meetings are one-on-one. If a child is really acting crazy, the best solution is usually pulling the student aside without other teachers or parents and just talking through what's going on
• If you're on a team and they do a group discipline meeting, keep it positive. You might alienate the other teachers for a moment, but they'll eventually learn that you're not interested in shaming kids

Photo Credit

Flickr Creative Commons

http://www.flickr.com/photos/artarama/862604476/

I'm sitting here on a lazy summer morning. It's blazingly hot outside and our air conditioning hums softly while blasting out a steady stream of cool air. Bored of playing Legos and tired of using watercolors, I plop the boys in front of the electronic babysitter. Normally I feel a tinge of guilt at this point. Today, however, I am too tired to care. So, I allow the social engineers behind PBS Kids disguise entertainment as quality children's programming. A part of me fears that it is the children who are programmed by the television rather than the humans programming the medium.

They're watching a show called Word World. It's a show where the main characters are anthropomorphized words. So, a sheep is actually the word S-H-E-E-P spelled out and then given characteristics to act like a sheep. Throughout this show, the characters transform objects through the power of phonetic awareness. So "cat" becomes a "bat" that they use to hit a baseball.

I giggle when I start thinking of all the inappropriate words I could make with a few letter changes. Joel and Micah, for their part, think I am laughing at the show and they join in. After awhile, though, I start seeing the show as an accurate metaphor for the power of language. Teachers have the ability to change an entire class climate with a few words. Sticks and stones might break bones, but words can start a revolution or ruin a child's life, inspire hope or instill fear or incite a riot.

Semantic Environment

Teachers use words to form an intangible semantic environment. Often the words connect to create an unspoken metaphor that drives the interaction and sets the tone for the classroom climate. It's not simply a matter of denotation either. It's the notion that all words contain layers of connotation, dipped repeteadly in different contexts. While some people assume that they can simply pull a word out and toss it in interchangably, the reality is that words change one another given the environment.

I know this all sounds theoretical, but here's a real crude example. A Christian might say, "Jesus was born of a virgin through the immaculate conception." A fairly offensive atheist friend of mine used to flip the phrase (and try and get a rise out of me) by saying, "Jesus was a bastard whose mom claimed she never had sex and said that the father was a god." A similar literal meaning, but an entirely different semantic environment.

The same occurs in a classroom. When I tell students, "You earned this grade" it is a business-related term. When I say, "This grade reflects your achievement," it is a competition metaphor. When I say, "Your grade is a reflection of your growth. Where would you like to see it?" I am now using an organic, earthy metaphor. Similarly, when I throw around a word like "data" it is scientific while "feedback" might sound more human. Often, conflict occurs when semantic environments collides. A student might speak a language layered in social norms

The Power of Framing

I mention all of this, because teachers have the ability to frame reality with words. As an example, a teacher might say, "If you do well, you'll earn a field trip." Another teacher might say, "If you guys screw up, I'm taking away your field trip." The first phrase frames it as a positive reinforcement. The second frames it as a negative. A third teacher might say, "I trust you guys. You're going on a field trip and so I know you know how to behave." This third teacher now frames the field trip in an entirely different unspoken metaphor. Rather than seeing it as a transaction (like the first and second) it is spoken in a relational language.

I'll give a different example. Stores create a frame when they sell products. They know people will aim for the middle, so they will sell something expensive and something cheaper. Thus, if a $600 computer seems expensive, they'll sell an $1,000 model and a $450, knowing that people gravitate toward the middle.

I use a similar tactic in class. I'll say to the students, "I'm not setting a pargraph limit for you. If you want to go all-out, do at least three paragraphs. However, most of you should be able to do at least two. If you're really struggling, do one and we'll work up from there." By framing it this way, students who would normally have chosen to do one paragraph now choose two and students who would have chosen two attempt three.

A teacher friend of mine tried this tactic with homework. In his first year, he said, "If you don't get your homework done, you owe me an after school detention. And I'll take ten percent off your homework grade for it being late." No one showed up. The next year, he said, "Look, if you have a hard time getting your homework done, you can come after school and get it done here. I'll help you out and you'll still get most of the points. You can still earn up to a ninety percent."

Pretentious, Presumptuous and Perhaps Practical Advice

• Consider framing as you write your lessons. What can you use to set a frame for the students?
• Think about the unspoken metaphor in rules and procedures. Are you using language associated with relationships or commerce? Is there an unspoken language that treats the classroom as a business or do you treat it like a community? Record yourself talking to the classroom and analyze the words. Where would you normally here the langauge?
• Find out what words might be trigger words for students. For example, I never use "stupid" or "punk" given the strong negative connotation of these words with my student population. I always say "undocumented immigrant" rather than "illegal alien."

My grandpa is dying right now and I feel almost nothing about. I know a lot about him, but I don't really know him at all. I know that he likes rocky road and that he won a lot of metals in World War II that he keeps inside of a shoebox while he withers away watching the Home Shopping Networking and eating Almond Roca and breathing from a tube.

He was a great man, I'm told. I use the past tense "was," because no one remembers his accomplishments. His friends are dead and he has only a younger brother and a bossy but endearing wife to keep him company. I mention that he's dying, but it's not necessarily imminent. He had a stroke last week. A part of me wonders if that's his body's way of reminding the family to slow down and remember that he's still alive.

He never mentions death, except he once pulled me aside. He asked me if I ever read Tuesdays with Morrie and I told him I had. He said it was a romance novel's version of death. "That's not how it is at all with death. No one goes that peacefully. We claw our way back to life. Death is like war, except without the hope or the greater sense of mission."

At the time, I considered writing a fictional book called Wednesdays with Jerry. It would be a fictional account of death, but one that embodies the prototype I experienced most often when doing hospital visits my first two years of college. The main character would face death with an edgy boredom and a sense of trepidation, not stoically and calmly like Morrie. I get the sense that Americans love that book so much because it's so antiseptic; not unlike the nursing homes and hospitals that house the dying.

I never wrote it, because I don't know how to handle death. I never learned it. Society in general, but school in particular, taught me to avoid death. Two days ago I embarrassingly wrote that Kissinger was dead. I meant to write McNamara. I probably won't notice when Kissinger dies, because it won't be newsworthy. Most of the agents of socialization rarely mention such a taboo subject. We leave it to parents to explain (and consider how awkward it is when parents try to explain sex, I'll assume many parents avoid the topic as well).

A wise philosopher wrote that it's better to go to a house of death than a house of feasting; which is why I think it's so sad that schools avoid the topic of death. For example, I can't find a nursing home to take my students to anymore. I know of science teachers who go through the life cycle with students but never let the reality of death sit in. I know of schools who banned The Bridge to Tarabithia because it deals with death. I realize that sounds like a shout from a soapbox, but in dealing with history, I taught about dead people but never death and I taught about cultures without dealing with what they believe about life after death.

Photo Credit

Flickr Creative Commons

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mtstradling/137509096/

Every once in awhile, usually when someone talks about Stand and Deliver or Freedom Writers, I find myself jealous of the Silverscreen Superteachers. I know that I am supposed to feel inspired, but I rarely feel that way. Instead, I feel guilty. I feel like I failed because I don't bring in Holocaust survivors and I don't teach my students seven days a week and my eighth graders don't take Calculus. I feel like I'd be a better teacher if I wrote comments on all papers and scheduled weekly field trips and spent my summers with students.

At one time, I tried to compete with the Silverscreen Teachers. When my students created their first documentary, I imagined that we would be standing together at a film festival up in some Colorado ski town. When we created our Social Voice website, I believed we would be in the newspaper or on the news for our great scholarly pursuits. I was arrogant and brash in my self-proclaimed expert status. I would be the Ron Clark of Phoenix, minus the fifty-something rules and with a slightly cynical edge. I'd be a mix between Bono and Jaime Escalante and someday I'd be in a movie theatre watching someone better looking pretending to be me.

I quit trying to compete when I realized that it wasn't me. I'll always be the not-so-master teacher and on some level that's what my students need. I might not accomplish miracles, but I'm approachable and that's not such a bad thing. Nonetheless, sometimes I feel that lingering sense of guilt. This time it's not about the fame or recognition, but about the ideal example raised up for me in all of the inspirational stories. I'll see a news story about a student-led project and think, "Why am I not doing more? Why can't I seem to get my act together?" Usually this spirals into a sense of self-loathing and eventually a resignation that I'll never measure up. I begin to feel like the kid who stands around waiting to be picked in dodge ball. I imagine my midwestern dad, straight-faced asking me, "Did you try your best?" in that way that says, "if you were trying harder you'd have better results."

What saves me from this spiral is the memories of watching VH1 Behind the Music. Regardless of the band, the story remains constant. A group of artists rally together and with a bit of luck and a deep drive for success, they devote their life to the music. During this part of the show, I feel that same visceral sense of desire. I'm rooting for that band in the smokey bar trying to make it onto the radio. It becomes a reflection of my early attempts to be a Silverscreen Superteacher. All of a sudden, it makes sense when Adam Duritz sings, "I want to be Bob Dylan," because that's me. I want to prove myself and garner a crowd and stand up in a conference as the keynote speaker.

Then it transforms into a cautionary tale. The accomplishments crumble. The band bickers. Usually, the members move in and out of rehab. Marriages fail. Kids talk about never seeing their famous dads. It's easy to blame the drugs. Yet, it's more than that. It's the lack of boundaries. A band throws themselves into the music, experiences success and is already living a life of anarchy. It just happens to sound good. But the drugs are simply a symptom of the larger issue: a lack of contentment that lead to a lack of boundaries.

So, I begin to think of the teachers that we present to the public in movies. None of them lasted more than five years. A few quit after less than three years. The result of their focused, driven, boundary-free vocation was that it killed their life. They became self-inflicted martyrs. Sure, they had great accomplishments, but they failed in the areas that count the most.

There's a scene in Stand and Deliver where the son asks for his dad's advice and his dad chooses to answer the phone and help a student instead. In my life, I want to hang up the phone and spend time with my son, because off-screen he'll never be a side character. Later, Jaime has a heart attack. Similarly, the lady in Freedom Writers watches her marriage crumble because she can't learn to relax and enjoy her husband.

I don't want that to be me. The reality is that there will always be more work to do, more papers to grade, more projects to pursue and more chances to serve students. If I don't know how to set boundaries, I will burn out. It will make a hell of a Hollywood story, but I'll lose my identity in the process.

Pretentious, Presumptuous and Perhaps Practical Advice

• Watch Click and consider the danger in moving too fast. Or, if your stomach can handle it, watch Requiem for a Dream and see the danger in ambition.
• Carve out time to exercise. Tell yourself that it's sacred time and nothing can stop you.
• Bring good food and plenty of water. I know I'm being trite and acting like an overprotective parent, but my worst days occur when I don't take care of my body.
• Set a time boundary for yourself. My work day is long, from 8:00-5:30 and I take kids on service projects twice a month. So, it's a good 45-50 hour work week. But I won't let anything get in the way of my evenings and weekends and I take one personal day per semester as a mental health day.
• Carry around a tablet and let yourself write down ideas. In your first year it can be really difficult to "turn off" work. So, don't be uptight about writing some ideas down. Just be careful that you don't take tons of papers to grade or get into the trap of overworking.
• Ask yourself how important it is for the students. For example, if you are up at work at 8:30 in the evening, what will be worse for the students, to have a paper back a day late or to have a teacher who is irritable.
• Read Ecclesiastes and reconsider the drive for accomplishments.

Photo Credit

Flickr Creative Commons

http://www.flickr.com/photos/rickharris/368538048/

My son thinks the Wiggles stole all their dance moves from The Charlie Brown Christmas Special. I think he's onto something here.

Often, people use the term "management" when describing a classroom.  Yet, managing is not what I am after.  A manager is a maintainer of the status quo.  He's the guy who makes the starting line-up and spends the game spitting sunflower seeds.  He's the man in the tie playing sudoku in the office while the rest of the workers type away. 

A leader has a different focus.  The leader is interested in moving students toward a goal.  Leaders have a vision and a purpose.  Leaders take risks at time.  While a manager will nit-pick on details, a leader will use trust and transparency rather than rules and regulations to get the group to work effectively.  Managers make sure work is accomplished while leaders inspire people to do the work. 

On some level, teachers have to be managers.  At times, they must do administrative tasks, nag students for missing assignments and manage liability.  Yet, when a teacher is most effective is when that teacher can motivate students, present a clear and meaningful purpose for the class and use passion and creativity to help students reach their potential. 

Perhaps all of this sounds too much like a motivational pep talk.  But I've found that I teach best when I lead my class rather than manage it.  I find that having a few procedures, keeping things generally organized and having a minimalist "system" keeps me from micro-managing and enables me to use a more leadership-based approach in my classroom,

So, it's our first Christmas together. We live in this awful mold-infested apartment that's causing me to get sick. Christy is a few months pregnant and we're happy but miserable at the same time. My first year of teaching is beating me up. And we're dirt poor. So, we limit our gift to ten dollars or less. I can't remember what I bought her for ten bucks, but I do remember sitting down with a paper and pencil and sketching this.

I was so insecure about my ability to draw that when she burst into tears I wondered if I had failed. I wondered if I hadn't articulated her beauty well enough. Maybe poetry the next year? She loved it and it now sits on our living room shelf.

It was also a turning point for me as a teacher. I realized that art had to be a part of how I taught. I realized that it might be murals or collages or documentaries, but that the creative impulse is such a critical element to the human experience. I know it might seem strange, but creating this picture saved my teaching career.

Pacing can be really difficult. How long does it take a group of seventh graders to write two paragraphs? (In my experience, fifteen minutes at the beginning of the year and ten minutes later). How long does it take to fill out a web? How much time should I give for sharing in think-pair-share when it seems that they are simply chatting instead of engaging in deep discussion?

It's way to easy to pack in too much, rush through it and feel the effects of a hurried schedule. The class culture becomes frantic and busy without time for reflection. On the other hand, it's way too possible to plan a lesson, give too much time and then experience dead time where students find ways to be disruptive, because they are bored.

The first time I joined the gym I glanced at the television airing CNN. While websites seem to move to a more simplified, visually appealing, calm look, cable news packs more and more information. I'm reading a scroll bar on top of two other scroll bars. At the top of the screen is a "late breaking story" and to the side is an interview with three guests and the main host on the left. Ocassionally, the break from the talking heads on the right and show video footage, recent polls and teasers for other news shows.

CNN proves that one can spend an entire day telling news and never show anyone what's really going on in the world. Instead, we get commentary followed by shards of soundbytes, interesting video footage and graphics - all out of context and rushed and lacking deeper connections to life. No narrative. No human element. Just entertainment in the guise of "being informed."

If I'm not careful, I can suffer from the CNN syndrome. I fill up the class with busy activities, each leading to the next. I add too many enrichment and intervetion assignments and they become the busy scroll bars. A visitor might notice "active engagement," but what they really see on a CNN day is students busy and working hard, but failing to slow down and think.

Catch me on a good day, though, and it's more like This American Life. The pacing is casual, but not wasted. We have quick transitions, but they are part of a bigger whole. There is no "dead air" but students are also avoiding the frantic pacing of a lesson that must be done for the sake of getting it done.

Pretentious, Presumptuous and Perhaps Practical Advice

• Use quick transitions and use a variety of activities. I generally have students do a few small five minute activities and a few longer fifteen to twenty five minute ones as well.
• Break up the grouping in the pacing. So, go from individual to partners to whole group and then to small group, back to individual, etc.
• Figure out how much time an activity requires and set the time deadline for the class. Then include your instructions in the time deadline. When I do this, it forces me to give more concise instrucitons and the students are less likely to get off track when they know they are cutting into their own time.
• Think about the time wasters. For example, I don't have a time for unpacking and packing up backpacks. I also don't do announcements on a daily basis. To me, they are time wasters (though I can easily see why other teachers view this differently. I do a Dumb Joke Friday that many teachers would consider a waste of academic learning time)
• Pacing is something that takes awhile to perfect. It varies with groups. So, cut yourself some slack if you don't get through everything.

Photo Credit

Flickr Creative Commons

http://www.flickr.com/photos/dorkmaster/1930350/