Death at 15

When you're fifteen, you're supposed to feel invincible.  Whether you agree with that or not, a majority of fifteen-year-olds do feel invincible.  I did.

People say it's unnatural for parents to bury a child.  I'm not sure if it's unnatural, or just statistically unlikely in the 21st century.  This might be because I'm an economics teacher and I think of everything in graphs and ratios, or it might be because I'm a history teacher and I have a decent grasp of average lifespan in different time periods.  Throughout most of history, parents burying children has been a common practice at worst.  When you account for low infant mortality rates, plagues, wars, and the rest, the fact is death was a constant presence in everyday life.  

A sophomore at Scottsdale Prep died from cancer last week.  She was diagnosed with brain cancer as a freshman, and gone a year later.  

I didn't really know this girl, but I taught her sister last year.  Her death, though it wasn't a complete surprise, caused shock waves throughout the school.  It's one thing to say someone has less than a year to live, it's another thing entirely for that person to die.  The sophomores in particular were affected.  I teach the sophomores.  I had half of them in the fall semester, and the other half this semester.  When she died, her section had been under my watch for less than a week.  Though I officially had her section, 10A, I never taught her.  They had economics during first period, and when she came to school it was always later in the day.  She is still on my attendance roster.  

When she was initially diagnosed, she wasn't given long to live.  Even with this information, and frequent chemotherapy treatments, she kept coming to school.  She was in a wheelchair and other students would take turns helping her from class to class.  I saw her at more than a few home basketball games in the first semester.  In fact, she was at a basketball game the week before she passed away.  

It was a Wednesday morning when we were informed she had taken a bad turn and was in critical condition.  I  didn't know what to do with this information.  When I showed up to my first period class, quizzes in hand, I walked into a room full of red-eyed and teary students.  Today is not going to go according to plan.  

So, what can a teacher do in this situation?  I had no idea.  I can't pretend to identify with them, I can't pretend like everything is alright, and, because I was so aware of the first two impossibilities, I can't successfully distract them.  To make the situation more complicated, I had the entire spectrum of grieving kids in both my economics classes.  There were some outright crying, some entirely unreachable, some trying to console others, some wishing they felt something, and some who were desperate for normalcy.  I felt like all of them were looking to me for guidance, for a response.  

In essence, I told them I didn't know what the best response was.  I told them some of my thoughts from the preceding paragraph.  I told them I wasn't going to give them homework, but that I would assign optional writing assignments in class.  Those who wanted could leave the class (theoretically to visit the grief counselor) or work on something else.

This was the story for three days.  Her health had plummeted Tuesday night, and she passed away after school Thursday.  

Though I had observed the grieving around me, the impact of Her life and death weren't real to me until that night.  Several of my friends and I had planned to attend a jazz choir and improv show at the school.  In the wake of her death, the program was changed to become a tribute to her.  Many students read poems, sang songs, or otherwise publicly demonstrated what she meant to them.  We all cried that night.

The school issued a statement all the teachers were supposed to read in first period Friday.  I understand the value of official statements.  I decided the value was negative in this case.  Instead, I paraphrased the statement and included some of my own thoughts.  Briefly, I told them I believe everything happens for a reason and everything eventually works out for good, though often its easier to perceive chaos and evil in the world.  The education at Scottsdale Prep is intended to help us sort through what is important and what is not, to discover meaning in life, and to live with purpose.  This is what the "Prep" is for.   Then I asked if anyone wanted to say anything.  After a few seconds one boy suggested the whole class hold hands around our discussion table and pray.  We did.  A few students prayed to God, a few others just spoke to her as if she was still there.  It was good.    

Is there a takeaway here?

You want to protect the ones you love.  Parents want to protect children, teachers want to protect students.  I wanted to do anything I could to minimize the hurt those kids were feeling.  But is that the best instinct?  It's a losing battle, with that approach.  Bad things happen.   This is why the prospect of having children of my own is terrifying.  Watching them struggle will be infinitely worse than experiencing those same struggles firsthand.  I think the goal should be to prepare the ones you love.  Otherwise, you just have a sheltered child and an imminent disaster.  They need a ready defense for the world and the pain it brings.  They need faith and hope and love.

We live in a entertainment culture.  Entertain me until I die, so I never have to confront my impending death.  Everything is a distraction.  We are sheltered from death.  You can't talk about it, you don't know how to feel when you see it.  This is why "grief counselor" is a "legitimate" occupation.  Even worse, we see death non-stop in fake life.  In movies and video games and TV shows and yeah-I'm-gonna-call-the-news "fake life".  You think this doesn't have a detachment effect?  You think you have an accurate understanding of what losing someone is like, just from observation?  I've said it before, you can't fully understand something until it happens to you.  The death of a friend is no exception.  You can read about heroes losing their closest friend in all the classics, but it's never really real.  If it happens to you, you'll never be able to read that story the same way again.  THIS is the emotion the author originally wanted you to feel, and now you'll never forget it.  

Maybe those fifteen year olds don't feel so invincible now.  Maybe that's a good thing.  Maybe it's a tragedy, too.

How to Study: A comprehensive study guide on studying

The following is a hand-out I typed up before school today and gave to my economics students offhandedly in class...A few of them enjoyed it.

Despite the frequent demand for this commonly misunderstood activity, many would-be studyers find themselves embarking on a journey during finals week on which they will be measured and found wanting. 

     The first rule of studying is to save your mind for when it is most efficient.  In other words, never study more than a night in advance of a major assessment.  When timed correctly, the urgency of your situation will force your hopelessly-distractible brain into something resembling focus, allowing you to absorb and comprehend an A’s worth of material in a C-span of time.  Plus, this route ensures your long-term memory won’t be affected at all, and then you can fill it to capacity with the best perk combos or the blood types of your favorite “singers”.  Don’t crack that textbook too soon when one night will do!

     Once you’ve given yourself no choice but to cram, there is no longer a point where you experience the paralysis that comes with unnecessary choices.  You don’t have to worry about what the optimal amount of sleep is, or what you should have for breakfast, or even if you should have breakfast — you can be quietly confident in the knowledge that, in order to pass, you have to study up until the second where your teacher pries your notes from your clammy, sleep-deprived hands.   And when you finish that test, you are free to start studying immediately for the next.  It’s simple, and simplicity is refreshing.

     When your psyche hits that unmistakable melding of panic and despondency, you know its time to sit down and do work.  Once you’ve arrived, the next aspect to consider is your environment.  Set up camp on the most comfortable arrangement possible — a couch or La-Z-Boy will do, but a bed is best.  Anywhere you can stretch out and close your eyes in order to review what you just learned, really.  You need a tasty beverage within reach, and a snack  (pick a snack that complements the stress-induced cortisol coursing through your system).   Develop a system where you eat every time you don’t know something, and reward yourself with a drink every time you get a review question right.

     The mistake many students make at this point is minimizing potential distractions.  In fact, distractions are a vital component of productive studying.  They give your mind a break from reality, and encourage a renewed sense of urgency when to you return to the task at hand.  Before you collect any unorthodox distractions such as Rubek’s Cubes or Sudoku, make sure you have the time-tested favorites — your cell phone and the TV remote.  There’s nothing that encourages humanity’s development like a little TLC on in the background, and you obviously need to be able to check in with your friends at any moment.  Plus, when you aren’t Snapchatting Instagrammed pictures of your latest high score on Temple Run, you can always Tweet about how many likes your Facebook status just got:  “Truth is…im studying so hard right now! omg lms if u h8 finals lol!!”  Yeah, that’s worthy of checking up on every few minutes.

     If you follow these instructions and leave the classroom anything less than fully confident in your “A”, the only course of action remaining is to blame your teachers.  How could they expect you to know information that far back in the study guide?  They clearly don’t understand that you have other classes to study for, too.  Let’s be honest, though, at this point in the year the teachers have predetermined your grade anyway.  There’s a reason no one hands back finals.  Happy studying!  

Since 8th-graders are harder to reach with satire, I added a disclaimer to their version:

*Disclaimer:  This advice is satirical.  A more accurate title would be “How NOT to study, but you probably will do all of these things anyway.” 

My actual advice is essentially the opposite:  Review your class notes in each class at the end of each week.  Ask your teacher to explain things you don’t understand.  If nothing else, it shows your teacher that you care and you want to learn, which is valuable in itself.  When you are studying, go to a quiet place and sit in a non-cushioned chair with a desk.  Leave your phone in another room and don’t play music with lyrics.  Learn which friends help you study, and which friends are better to hang out with when you don’t need to learn anything.  You cannot multitask nearly as well as you think you can.  It is MUCH better to study for 30 minutes, and then watch a TV show for 30 minutes, than it is to sit in front of a TV for 60 minutes, “studying”.  When you sit down to study, it should be all you do. Stop trying to mix work and play, and both activities will be more productive.  You can focus on what you need to learn when you study, and then you can enjoy relaxing instead of feeling guilty for not studying. 

I learned these things the hard way, by many sleepless nights and unsatisfactory test grades.  I’m giving you an opportunity to learn from my experience.   Take it.  And hey, if you already utilize this advice, congratulations!  You’re ahead of the curve.

Group Dynamics

 You can't understand how much variation occurs between different sections of the same grade/subject until you've been a teacher.  Well, until you've been a teacher of multiple sections simultaneously.  Yeah, that's eliminates primary school teachers.  Sorry, ladies.

I currently teach two sections of economics, and two sections of medieval history.  How the two sections react to discussion topics, discipline, freedom, distractions, homework, and all the rest is never the same.  The initial temptation is to dislike the variation, because it makes my job more difficult. But that's the surface-level temptation.  At a deeper lever, I appreciate the intricacies.  I don't want to teach robots, though some teachers might.  

What fascinates me is not even that the sections are so different, but to what degree a single personality can affect the attitude and direction of an entire group.  For several years now, I have been obsessed over group dynamics.  What role does each person play in a friend group?  What sorts of personalities best work together?  I'm in the habit of labeling people in accordance with the theories I've come up with.  For example, in any effective group of friends you've gotta have an ideas person.  They always have great ideas, but don't necessarily have the tools to act on them.  Other roles can include organizer, communicator, connector, marketer, initiator, expert, mood-lightener, mediator, leader, photographer, and more.  No one is restricted to one particular role, but everyone has certain strengths and weaknesses.  You gotta know your comparative advantage!  Me, I'm an escalator — I escalate things.  I'm great at taking an idea and bringing it to the next level, adding a new aspect or challenge, hopefully resulting in a better experience. If not better, at least more memorable, right?  

There is a broader category where I label people as well.  All, or nearly all, my friends are "troopers".  I use this term to describe someone who is willing to try something new, someone who is willing to lose sleep or skip a class or just simply operate outside their comfort zone.  A trooper is anyone you can text at 10 p.m. on a Thursday and invite to the midnight premiere of Twilight: Breaking Dawn Pt. 2, and they go.  Troopers have a sense of adventure, and are vital to any healthy friend group.

With this approach, you can see how intriguing classroom dynamics could be.  There are two students in particular I'll think of as "game-changers" in the most obvious sense.  One, in eighth grade, is probably the biggest reason I have a discipline problem in the section.  It's an indirect effect, though.  She is the type of person I love — full of energy and wonder and the undeterred by societal expectations.  Part of this, though, means that she has no filter.  She doesn't just say what she's thinking the moment she thinks it, she practically yells it.  I honestly doubt her ability to restrain her initial reactions, and I'm not sure I want to repress her anyway.  Crushing enthusiasm isn't one of my favorite activities.  The problem, though, is essentially the same as the "broken window theory" in criminology.  The theory says that a building with a broken window left unfixed is much more likely to attract more vandalism, a wall with graffiti draws more graffiti, and so on.  Once someone is shouting out in class regularly, it opens the floodgates.  I doubt the other students recognize this effect, but they certainly act on it.    

One of my tenth grade sections is generally combative and energetic, while the other is generally agreeable and reserved.  Though I get along well with reserved sections, and they get along with me, it can be more difficult to stimulate quality discussions.  In the reserved section, there is a girl who causes friction.  To put it simply, she annoys many of the other students.  I find her highly entertaining, and she is a great student, but her personality is just somewhat provocative.  When you project this over the entire day, entire semester, and, in many cases, several years, it can wear down the most patient classroommates.  What those students don't realize, however, is that, without this girl, it's very likely their section could drop from "reserved" into "boring".  She creates a majority of the entertainment in the classroom, irregardlessly of whether that entertainment is appreciated by everyone or not.  This is valuable from a pure entertainment perspective, but also from a Socratic method/discussion perspective.  She gets other students involved and actively participating in class.  

In both of these cases, if you take away one element, you have an entirely different group dynamic, and an entirely different experience.  

Part of the draw to analyzing classroom dynamics is the fact that a large majority of the students are completely oblivious to the effect those around them have on their behavior.  They are reacting genuinely, but unconsciously.  It's innocent, but also naive.  It makes me curious where the line is between oblivious and manipulative.  Is being manipulative wrong?  What is the best level of awareness to have?  Are you aware of your level of awareness?  Should you be?

This sentence is a non sequitur.  This sentence is not a non sequitur.

A few of my students have been accusing me lately of being a hipster.  When I began to argue with them, I realized something.  I don't fit my definition of a hipster, but I do fit their definition, so I can't win.  My hipster friends would be insulted to be grouped in with me, but my students don't have an accurate conception of how hipstery someone can be.  That being said, I'm going to end this post with a link to a probably thought-provoking and possibly condemning opinion piece on hipsters:

How to Live Without Irony.

Does Spelling Count?

Test-taking children evrywhere have to know.  What say you?

No, really, I'm seriously aksing you.  What would your response be?

Think of your response.  Does it depend on the situashun?  On the word in question?

The idea here is going to be that many things seem simple, but few things are.  Are you ready?  As a teacher, you must always be prepared to give an anser to every student who asks you to give the reason for the answer you gave.

The first few months of teaching, I good-naturedly feilded "Does spelling count?" (hereafter referred to as "the question") during every test, assuming that it would die out once I had responded consistently in each section.  It didn't.

Off-hand, I'd say the questian is asked approximately 1.31 times per test, and .43 times per quiz.

My initial instinct, when asked the question, is to explain that I shouldn't have to answer.  It is an exersise in futility — does my answer change their behavior?  No. ("Oh, it counts? I'm going to spell harder now!! -student's inner dialogue)  I have found, however, my initial instincts are not always the best instincts to follow in a junior high classroom.

So, the answer probably shood be an answer.

Effective teaching, in many ways, is about making things simple.  Clarity and repetition are essential in the learning process.  I have had to comprimise in these areas, since I prefer making people actively think in order to understand what I'm saying, and I hate repeating myself.  This approach has only limited success even when my interactions are primarily with reasonable/educated people.  That success rate plummets when my interactions are with anything less, and junior highers most certainly are nothing if not something less.

So, the response probly should be simple.

Effective teaching is also about repitition.  One of my econ professors at Hillsdale, Dr. Wolfram, would start every class by covering the last 10 minutes of material from his last class.  He never openly acknowledged that he did this, but it was hard to overlook.  Though it wasn't ideal from an entertainment perspective, it was effective.  Essentially, his approach forced students to review the material, and the material they were reviewing was the portion where they were likely the least focused (beginning and end of class).

I learned a lot from Dr. Wolfram.  He knows economics, and he's had success at many levels in many areas, both public and private sector.  He is also the go-to professor for when Hillsdale needs a public speaker on economic matters.  He's great at simplifying ideas and mainstream humor, therefore crowds love him.  He's well-known for catchphrases such as "Don't piss on my leg and tell me it's raining," and "Shift happens."  Unlike most economists, he's willing to simplify his personality in order to market himself and benefit, and that's just as rationale as rejecting the urge to conform.

So, the answer should probably be easily repeated.  (What would Dr. Wolfram say if someone asked him the question?  I don't know.  I might ask him when I vissit Hillsdale later this week)

So, you still think I'm silly for over-thinking such a simple question, huh?  Well, try answering this question... Isn't every word just a mispelling of every other word? or... At what point is a word misspelled so badly that is becomes a different word entirely?  A clever student could argue that Clovis is just a misspelling of Constantine.

Think abowt it.

The problem is, the answer to the question can't be "Yes", "No", or "Maybe", or even "Sometimes".  Those answers only make more work for yourself, as you are flooded by follow-up questions.  Similarly, you can't stop class every time and explain your rubrick for determining at what point an almost-rightly spelled answer crosses the line to become a barely-wrong spelled answer.

So, since the spring semester of last year, I have settled into a slogan.  Every time I'm asked if spelling counts, I say the same thing:

"Spelling always counts, some times more than others."

It covers all the bases.  If it has a weakness philosophically, it has yet to be exploited.  Yet, it has not been effective.  My approach has not changed in 5 quarters, but they still ask.

I've printed the slogann on the front page of my last few tests, but they still ask.

I'm offitially declaring war on the question.  When I come back in the second quarter, it's going to printed on a poster at the front of the room, AND it might even be the answer to a bonus question on the first few tests, WHILE it's printed on the poster at the front of the room.

I'm willing to make a bet somone would miss that bonus.  Any takers?

you can have it both ways

"Of the thousands of evils which exist...there is no greater evil than the race of athletes.  In the first place, they are incapable of living, or of learning to live properly...They glisten and gleam like statues of the city itself when they are in their prime, but when bitter old age comes upon them they are like tattered and threadbare old rugs.  For this I blame the custom of the Greeks who assemble to watch athletes and thus honor useless pleasures."

—Euripides, 480-406 B.C.

sometime in the last 2500 years (okay, earlier), a rift has developed between intellectuals and athletes.  it's a predictable but powerful split, with stereotypical arguments based in accurate perceptions from both sides.  

here are the questions.  jocks prefer sports and nerds prefer knowledge, but is it their choice?  in other words, did athletic people focus on athletics as a result of being incapable of succeeding in academics? did intellectuals specialize in mental prowess because they failed in sports from a young age?  or, as each would claim, do they actually prefer their choice to the alternative?  do they create their reasons ex post facto, or consider both sides and weigh the benefits carefully before making a decision? 

in a lot of ways, those questions are unfair, but they are unfair in the same way stereotypes are unfair — a sort of necessary unfairness.  we generalize because we can't process all the information thrown at us every second of the day.  and, irregardless of the answers to the questions, both sides think their side is superior, and both resent the other side for  (wrongly!) thinking the opposite.  we can't be happy believing one thing, we have to hate those who disagree.  we don't necessarily even hate them for disagreeing, we hate them for thinking they are right.  this cycle builds on itself.

many of these sorts of rifts are presented in our society as fact.  you have to choose between two alternatives.  if something is presented as fact, people take it to be fact more often than they should.  this cycle builds on itself.  

it's a lie.  i spent most of my teenage life in the sports world.  though i did have drive to succeed in the classroom, i didn't care about learning for the sake of bettering myself.  i don't remember much from that time.  Hillsdale converted me.  ever since my experience with the liberal arts, i've been soaking up all the knowledge i can, and loving every second.  i first started thinking on this subject a few years ago, since then i've been in a variety of situations which have given me unique insights...  i've been on a college track team (for a semester) with a slew of scholarship athletes.  i've lived with a college baseball player.  i've worked for the college newspaper.  i flew on a charter plane with the football team to Hillsdale's second-ever DII playoff game.  i was the sports editor and associated with athletes/coaches on a regular basis, meanwhile, a solid percentage of my closest friends were in the honors program.  that's not to say there was no overlap in the two worlds, but i gained a good idea of how both sides operated.

there is real value in both sides, and no real reason they have to be exclusive.  i can get just as much enjoyment, and benefit, from reading a good book as i can from playing pick-up basketball on the weekend, and i often do both.  for a few years i've been steadily shifting over from the extreme athlete position, and i think i've finally settled into my groove near the middle of the spectrum.  

as much as i love the idea of being a life-long learner, i would never turn my back on physical activity.  one reason why i resist thinking of myself as an academic or an intellectual is that, in my mind, those people severely undervalue the role of fitness in living the examined life.  they live too much of their life in their heads, and too much in the past.  

the typical jock, on the other hand, is flawed in thinking being good at one sport for a few years is enough to make him/her immortal.  some sports are more toxic than others, depending on how much coverage they get.  but, seriously, we tend to respect some sports and athletes to absurdly high levels, and ignore others entirely.  i try to appreciate one feat of athleticism as much as the next, irregardless of the glamour involved.   

this subject has been on my mind recently, as i observe the effects these perceived differences have on my students.  i have 6th and 7th grade boys on my football team who are already convinced it's not cool to learn and get good grades, and they may never reconsider.  these kids are already walking down the halls like they own the place, and they are already struggling to stay on my team (because of grades and/or behavior/discipline issues).  last week we lost our biggest game of the regular season while my starting running back watched from the sidelines.  the worst part is, they haven't earned anything yet.  i can almost pardon Usain Bolt for being an ass, because everyone treats him like a god, and he may legitimately be the fastest man who's ever lived.  those influences would have an impact on anyone's opinion of themselves.  junior high athletes don't have that excuse.  our society continues putting the spotlight on them at increasingly younger ages, however, which is a real factor, and a different post..

i'm not the best teacher in the world, or my school, or my grade, or even my house.  but, part of what i bring to the classroom is the message you don't have to choose between all of these perceived alternatives.  you can have it both ways!  you can love learning, and be passionate about sports, and find success in both arenas.  someone needs to tell them.

if work permits

     I wrote the following paragraph of this post almost three weeks ago.  The next graph at least 10 days ago.  I guess that means I was to busy to finish what I started...  Since then, I've flown to Montana for a wedding in the middle of a week, and effectively fallen behind every other aspect of my responsibilities (not to mention everyday life, like eating real food).  Before tonight, I've been at home this week, NOT sleeping, for probably an average of one hour per day.  The rest of the hours have been schooling, practicing, or sleeping.  Or, traveling between those states of being, to be fair.  This makes it more difficult to follow-up my argument from my first post this year, that point being the second year has started off much better than the first.  Still going with that angle though, because as bad as this week has been, it's easily better than last year at this time.  No contest.

     There have been frustrating aspects of year two, of course.  Two things I can think of, specifically, currently.  Firstly, my eighth-graders are acting like seventh-graders.  Last year I shared some theories on why there was such a big difference between the adjacent grade levels.  Here are my current ideas... Having a lot of the same kids is a two-way street.  I know them and how they operate, but they start the year on the comfort-level that they reached with me by the end of last year.  That's been difficult to contain.  In addition, we are in the same classroom as seventh grade last year.  So, it all feels the same.  I've already had more trouble, class management-wise, than I had all of last year in my one golden section (8B), which leads me to my other theory.  I had an extraordinary group of students in medieval history last year.  I was slow to realize that, since I had nothing to compare them to.  They were, as a group, somewhat reserved.  That's how I prefer it..  Even the less-dedicated students' most common choice of non-cooperation was to NOT participate, rather than participate in the wrong way.

The other test for me thus far has been to accept that our athletic department can’t make the jump from mediocre to perfect in one year.  Quick background: Scottsdale Prep’s athletic program had the lowest satisfaction rating in the Great Hearts’ network last year, and it was well-deserved (this is especially telling in light of the fact we actually win a lot of games, which usually makes people happy in itself).  Anyway, the root cause was primarily a lack of communication, on many fronts.  I recognized this last year, and my solution was to create a new position, sell it to the admin, and prove I was the best man for the job.  They tweaked my idea, but I got the position.  It was a win-win for me, since I was already dedicating so much time to our sports.  May as well get some official recognition for it.  Now, we have four people involved in the department, instead of the 1.5 from last year.  We’re better in a lot of ways.  Nevertheless, a lot of the same problems are still around.  We don’t have a football field, or any fields for that matter.  We operate on the whims of decent fields in the area.  Within our first two weeks of practice, I’d had three days where I had to change our practice location on a few hours notice.  I had absolutely no control over it, I just had to pass it on to the parents.  We also had a giant mix-up where the high school football team took the junior high jerseys for a scrimmage game, and when we tried to hand out jerseys after school one day there was no equipment to hand out.  I had spent two hours cataloguing every item the week before, and it all just disappeared.  That sort of thing may not seem like a huge deal, but it builds up.  Established, well-organized programs don’t have to deal with those glitches.

Those are the two most glaring negatives I can think of so far this year.  The thing they have in common? They're both nit-picking negatives, or focusing on negative aspects of positive situations.  My classes have been great, and our athletic department is much-improved, but my expectations are so high that I'm hyper-aware of anything less than perfection.  That in itself says a lot about my overall experience thus far.

This is a boring post, but I have to get it out of the way, because I have a few posts backlogged in my head and I feel like I can't get to them until this one's out there.

I'm waking up to run with the cross country team at 5:15 a.m.  I wrote that to keep myself accountable.

sophomore year

The four-year model is strongly ingrained into me.  I've taken to thinking of first-year teachers as freshmen.  I'm a typical sophomore.  I know how everything works, I have a good idea of my role at the school, I am comfortable picking on other teachers of my year or below, and I still feel entirely unqualified to address any school-related questions from more experienced incoming teachers.

     Freshman year: Leading up to my first day I spent several hours putting together exactly what I was going to say during my classes.  

     Sophomore year: I made a few notes last night, and didn't really stick to them in class.

    Freshman: I was more nervous than I can ever remember being in my life.  My entire demeanor is centered on being stress-free, but I had never been in front of a classroom (I didn't even do a demo in the interview process, remember?), and I could barely handle it.  At the lunch break, I had to go to my car and drive around aimlessly for 20 minutes, blaring music in an attempt to do something mindless and familiar to clear my head.

    Sophomore: I was excited more than anything else.  Excited to teach economics, excited to have 10th-graders, excited to have so many returning students in 8th grade.  There may have been some nervousness, but also an underlying reassuring confidence.

    Fresh: Each class was 60 minutes, and each felt never-ending.  I ran out of things to say in my Medieval History class (unbelievably awful improv ability), and let them go two minutes early.  That was the halfway point in the day, and I felt sick.  I didn't think I could finish the day, much less the year.

    Soph: We had a half-day, and I had to cut short a few planned activities.  I managed my time well enough that we just spent a little less time on each goal, rather than having to readjust my whole game plan.

1st: I was so overwhelmed the whole semester that I hardly ever actively checked the dress code.
2nd: I called out one of my returning students in class for a rather obscure violation.

Even the entryway is markedly improved from last year!

    Most unanticipated moment from freshman year: one of my 8th-grade girls dropped her planner into the center of the square of tables during discussion.  There was no way for her to reach it, and a few seconds of silence while everyone stared at her.  I had no idea what normally happens in this situation — I'd never been in a classroom with a closed square of tables before!  I froze just like the students.  The girl turned bright red and crawled under the table to retrieve it.  Now, I'd say or do something appropriately disarming and we'd move on.  *[DAY TWO YEAR TWO UPDATE: This happened again today! A girl dropped her syllabus and it floated into the center of the room.  I got up and jumped over the table to get it, then used the opportunity to make a joke about my position at school as "Athletic Facility Manager"..(pointing out that "athletic" could be modifying either noun, see?).  Boom. Same experience.  Opposite outcome.]*

     Most unanticipated moment from today?.. Probably when my assistant headmaster walked in to observe my classroom during economics in the second period.  I had no idea that was something that would happen on day one.  The class and I were confused, but I didn't get rattled.  Once I realized he was just there to watch, I moved right along.  I even mentally rearranged my next few activities for his benefit, something I noticed veteran teachers consistently doing last year.

     The worst part of year one was getting through the day and realizing I had to do it again tomorrow, the next day, and the rest of the school year.  I'd build up that first day so much that I never really considered the full scope of the commitment.

    The worst part about today was probably dealing with major printing issues.  Our copier broke and wasn't going to get fixed any time soon.  This was a worse breakdown than at any point in the first year.  Rather than spend my entire free period printing off shoddy unstapled versions of my syllabi at the out-matched back-up printer, I improvised and didn't hand out any syllabi today.  I went to Kinko's after school and printed them for tomorrow.  

     It says something on its own that I'm attempting to crank out a blog on the night before my first full day.  Here are a few feel-good anecdotes to close out:

     I asked for the same morning duty as last year and got it — overseeing the fifth graders before school.  About 70% of our incoming students come from Archway Scottsdale, and therefore know each other.  I noticed one girl who was clearly overwhelmed and didn't know anyone else in the mass of giddy up-and-comers.  I asked her her name and was instantly confused because it sounded like she'd said my name in response (I hadn't introduced myself yet).  Turns out, her last name is essentially the same as McClallen.  That has never in my life happened before, and it was especially great because I suspect it was somewhat comfortingly familiar for her.

     Also, a few days ago I had a former student (who chose to attend a different high school) stop by and drop off a gift for me.  It was a neon-pink skinny tie, and I liked it so much that I decided to wear it on the first day.  It just so happens that student has a sibling who is entering fifth grade at Scottsdale, and I ran into her dad as he dropped her off.  I'd never really talked to him before, but he recognized me (and the tie), and we had a quality conversation.  

     In short, before the first bell rang today I'd already had more positive experiences than I had my entire first week of freshman year.  The day was by no means perfect, though.  That's what junior year is for, right?