Last Words in 09

09 school is year done. I'm sitting in bed and it's past 9:08am. This is beautiful and it's exactly what I need. Students and teachers both were getting exhausted. I could feel everyone's minds teetering at the edge of our individual thresholds by beginning of last week. Some students' frustrations exploded from time to time and I practically had to rub their backs and calm them down with gentle lullabies while sliding global history document based questions underneath their pens. It's a stressful time of the year for many of our students as Christmas and New Years often surfaces bad memories or articulates their poverty.

I asked a few days ago, "Who's looking forward to the holidays?" and got nothing. I somewhat saved that dead end conversation with a "Can we at least agree that we're looking forward to not having school?" to which I received a few positive yays and woohoos. Given all this, I was determined to end this year on a positive and hopeful note. I wanted to make sure I spoke words life to them before sending them home. So I pulled out my soapbox from underneath my desk, stepped up onto it, and filled up our 52 minute class periods with inspirational verbiage. Just kidding. I threw them a party. We ordered pizza, I made some Korean dumplings which all busted open and fell apart, and students brought in drinks and some good 'ol Dominican dishes. One of the students also brought some weird dancing game where you have to imitate a digital dance instructor on the screen.

It was a blast. They loved it. And just before they left for home I told them how I sincerely love and care for them even though I may get frustrated at times. I told them how much I've enjoyed getting to know them thus far and that I was really looking forward to torturing them more next year. They love that stuff. It was a good ending to the year. Bring it on 2010!

Teaching Tip #2

Word Walls!

Though memorizing vocabulary definitions doesn't register too high on the famous Bloom's Taxonomy pyramid, it is often the foundation for understanding and higher order thinking. All students benefit by building their vocabulary in every subject area. Unfortunately, the 10th grade students I inherit every year in the South Bronx have significant vocabulary handicaps, which makes it even more imperative that I push for it in my global history classes. How else will my students debate the pros and cons of capitalism and socialism, or analyze the responses of the Industrial Revolution if they don't know what a union is or who Karl Marx was? Vocabulary is not only foundational, it's also really fun and it's an amazing differentiation tool anyone can use in his/her classroom across all disciplines. The pictures are from my own classroom. Take a look at them as I explain how my word wall works in my classroom and with my students.

1. I give every student whole punched index cards with a ring to hold them all together (I suggest all students to carry the cards in a ziplock bag so they don't get destroyed).
2. I put up all the words they'll need to memorize at the beginning of each unit. Every unit is a different color so they are easily distinguishable.
3. At the bottom of the word wall I have four identical stacks of vocabulary cards in rings that contain all the terms and definitions that are on the word wall. (These cards are made by various students who earn extra credit points for creating them) The words are written on one side and the definition on the other. Some of these cards have pictures drawn on them to help visualize the meanings.
4. Students are allowed to flip through these note cards whenever they need to check their own definitions. These ringed cards are also great for group study sessions and serve as a great resource. Students never have an excuse for not having their own updated vocabulary cards!
5. Lastly, having a word wall that is visible and attractive allows me to easily access students' prior knowledge and to review terms and concepts we've covered in the past. I point to it almost every single day.

I encourage you to try this in your classrooms. It's a bit of work to get it set up initially, but it's worth it and students feel the immediate gratification of knowing and remembering things they didn't know just the day before. Of course, I give tons of vocabulary quizzes which always includes new and old terms as well as other activities that hold students accountable for retaining all the definitions. Any questions? Fire away.

Giving Dreams Faces

I think I've mentioned before that I coordinate and teach a program called AVID at my school. It stands for advancement via individual determination. I'm not crazy about the name, but that's exactly what it is; a program for students who are determined to succeed...not necessarily the brightest and the smartest (although they are in most cases), but definitely the most driven. It's my first year teaching it and it was rough going at first. I made sure to give the impression that the program is rigorous and meaningful, but had a hard time living up to my promises in the beginning. Since then, I can gratefully say that our AVID students have grown significantly already and are starting to grow attached to each other as well as with me. We've written personal mission statements, organized a fundraiser walk to donate to Stop Child Trafficking Now, we have student-driven tutorials twice a week, everyone takes amazing cornell notes in all their classes, and now we're writing personal statement essays focusing on different aspects of our life goals. They complain they have to do extra work, but they secretly love it. I've never known what it feels like to teach a class full of enthusiastic students until this year, and it's really refreshing.

Something else I've been doing for my AVID students is bringing in special speakers from different professions and backgrounds. So far we've had our principal, my sister who's a consultant, a friend who works for a major advertising company, and a co-worker's contact who works for Jet Blue's marketing department. Besides the fact that I make my students feverishly take notes during these presentations, they love it and learn things they've never even heard of. I've been shocked how amazing my friends and family have been to be willing to give up a part of their work day to speak to my students, complete with sophisticated power point slides. All of our guests are helping my students to connect real faces and stories to careers they've only seen on TV (you'd be amazed how many kids say, "I want to be CSI," but don't even know what the acronym stands for). Thank you guys so much!

Next, I also want to take my AVID students beyond our school walls and into different work places and colleges. One thing I know about dreams is that it's much easier to dream and pursue goals when you've see them. Any takers? =P

Like All the Others, But Not.

I just got back from a school leadership retreat that was sponsored by a private education organization in Stamford, CT. After working all day at school, I drove up and worked with my fellow team leaders and administrators until 10pm. We then woke up this morning and worked from 8:30am to 12:30pm. Needless to say, I'm tired, but I feel like we accomplished a ton. Awesome.

Still, I would like to say a word on these sponsored conferences for educators because I find them amusing. Every one of these events inevitably has us checking into a large hotel like a Sheraton or Hilton, and then registering at one of the lobby booths where we pick up our free not-so-manly tote bags (pretty insensitive, if you ask me) that contain the weekend schedule and a stress ball along with a pen and notepad stamped with the hotel logo. They also include many hours of sitting in freezing conference rooms with cream colored walls and no windows, corny banners that scream weird mantras like G2G - Good to Go!, and motivational speakers who passionately remind us that we do what we do because we love "our kids." And of course, we can't forget that every one of these weekends end with some sort of party where drinks and loud music begin to blur lines that separate co-workers from love interests. Awkward.

Well, this trip was no different and had the likings of all of the above except that I ran into 'John', a friend whom I haven't seen in a year. God's been putting him on my heart from time to time and I've been praying for him. I was so excited to have lunch with him today and I prayed on the elevator ride down that God would use me to really minister to him. Turns out, God had plans to minister to me through him. After catching up, I learned that he's being mentored by an amazing christian principal through a program he applied and got accepted to. When I shared with him my hopes and dreams he said a couple of things that got me writing this blog today. He said to me that in his short experience as a school administrator he's learned that it's easier to give and serve when you don't have much than it is when you have much. He also said in response to my frustration of not knowing what God wants me to do next in pursuing the vision God's put in my heart that sometimes we need to let go of whatever it is we are holding onto in order for God to move us forward. What do you need to let go? He asked me.

R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

One of my students today explained to me that high school (and graduating from it) held no motivation for him. We'll call him Ivan. Ivan told me that he was interested in "other things."

"Like what?" I said. "A girl?"

"Nah, I don't sweat girls like that," he replied.

"You work somewhere?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"Bojangles?"

"Nah, bra! Nasty."

(At this point, it's slowly dawning on me what he means.)

"So, do you make a LOT of money at your job?", I prodded.

"Yeah."

"Is it something you might get in trouble for?"

"Well, you a teacher, so..."

The conversation continued, and he basically intimated to me that he is a drug dealer. After the initial anger and disappointment had subsided in me, I remembered something I had learned in a Bible study I did with some of my best friends.

Men, young and old, want two things more than anything else in the world:
1) To be respected
2) To feel accomplished

While I'm devastated that Ivan is on that road right now, it made total sense to me. He's very smart, but school work doesn't come easily to him. It offers no prestige or profit. Its tangible benefits are essentially long-term.

On the other hand, his growing enterprise brought him a sizable paycheck -- or at least, sizable to a 15-year old who's never held a $20 bill by any other means. Even more importantly, he gains the respect of his peers as the "guy who can get it for you." (See Morgan Freeman's character in The Shawshank Redemption.)

Most high school teachers will tell you their toughest job is not planning lessons or developing themselves professionally. It is, by a mile, motivating teenagers who struggle to envision a time beyond the immediate moment. Our continuing goal is to paint our students a picture of a future where they are respected, competent, accomplished, and successful... all on terms which benefit not only themselves, but everyone around them.

p.s. My beautiful little girl, Lily Paige Jones, is here. That's a picture of her at the top of this post.

A Few Good Men

My wife and I are about to have our first-born child this week. Maybe even tonight. Her contractions are a few minutes apart, and we've already had one false alarm a few days ago. She's a little girl, named Lily Paige. I've never even met her... I've only seen her on a sonogram. But she already has my heart. Friends of mine know I'm already kind of a sensitive guy. (I get choked up when Goose dies in "Top Gun". And Bubba's death scene in "Forrest Gump". And "Armageddon." And any movie with Meg Ryan.)

Now, I'm about as calloused and grizzled as a chenille throw blanket.

Because of my newfound smarmy gooshy sensitivity towards my beautiful little girl, I now view every human male between the ages of 11 and 19 with thinly veiled, skeptical, contemptuous distrust. They are animals, seething with unbridled lustful fury, and they must be stopped.

Joking aside, I have been thinking about the state of young men in our country and in our cities. How we view them. How we educate them. Our hopes for them and fear of them. Much has been made of the capacity for our young men to cause damage to property and harm to people. I've lost count of the faces of young men that I've seen on the 11 o'clock news... most of them in mug shots.

Obviously, I care about every student with whom I work. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a particularly strong desire to teach, shepherd, and love the young men that walk through my classroom every day. Given our relatively short time together, I'm desperate. I will only teach most of them for a semester -- a year if I'm lucky enough to have them in my Fundamentals AND Geometry classes back to back. Knowing the crossroads at which many of them stand brings a sense of urgency to our relationship, even if they don't know it.

Mostly, I want to help teach them how to be good men. To use their anger and passion to effect change in their lives and the lives of others. To love selflessly. To reject passivity, accept responsibility, and lead courageously. To expect God's greater reward. I agree with an author named John Eldredge. Eldredge says that, while the strength of men can be harmful, it is also the foundation of much that is good, profitable, and loving. Young men can defend, build, learn, teach, work, and provide. In young men exists an Imago Dei that wants to show itself.

In that spirit, I wanted to refer readers of this blog to a website for an organization called "Invisible Children". This is a group whose mission is to bring change and aid to child soldiers in Uganda -- young men forced into military service from as early as 5 years old. This is a major battlefield in the war for young men's hearts and souls, and I hope you'll give it a look.

http://www.invisiblechildren.com/home.php

On a related note, another organization close to my heart is Stop Child Trafficking Now, dedicated to ending the worldwide trade of child sex slaves.

http://www.sctnow.org/

Praying and Working

The past few days have been really meaningful for me. God has given me renewed encouragement and hope. Plus, I've just gotten to rest. Sometimes a brother just needs a nap.

Somtimes I just need to be reminded why I'm doing what I'm doing. Ultimately, I'm a Christian who wants to be used by God to change lives on an eternal level, primarily through the power of the Gospel, and also through education. Thinking about the young men and women I work with daily and praying about the various challenges they constantly encounter led me to a song and a passage of Scripture that express the tension between my working towards God's goal, and God's working towards His goal.

This tension was first summed up by the church father, Ignatius: "Work as if everything depends on you. Pray as if everything depends on God."

Despite every effort I make to effect change in young lives, we must always be aware that Jesus's desire for and pursuit of their hearts are greater than ours will ever be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're the God of this City
You're the King of these people
You're the Lord of this nation

You're the Light in this darkness
You're the Hope to the hopeless
You're the Peace to the restless

There is no one like our God
There is no one like our God

For greater things have yet to come
And greater things are still to be done in this City
Greater thing have yet to come
And greater things are still to be done in this City

"God of This City" ~Chris Tomlin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

6 "Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?

7 Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe him,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?

8 Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness [a] will go before you,
and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.

9 Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
"If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,

10 and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.

11 The LORD will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like a spring whose waters never fail.

12 Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins
and will raise up the age-old foundations;
you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,
Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.

~Psalm 58:6-12

Making a Real Difference

4 years ago God dropped a vision in my heart to start schools in the inner cities of America founded on the truth and power of the gospel.  3 years ago I visited 6 inner city Christian private schools along the east coast in an effort to learn how different people were impacting their urban communities through Christ-centered education.  Among those Atlanta Youth Academy really made an impression on me.  I felt something different the moment I stepped into their school.  There was hope there.  There was joy there. There was even a certain kind of boldness and courage in the kids voices and eyes.  The Spirit of the living God was full in that school and I felt him.  During my visit I got a chance to meet with the school's principal and executive director and could not help but be challenged and encouraged by their vision and determination for excellence.  Before I left they sat me down and showed me their promotion video and  I wept like a baby because all I had been dreaming about, of God's promise for our inner city children were being shown in front of me.  It was moving.  They came out with a new video recently.  Here it is.


Seeds of Hope from Atlanta Youth Academy on Vimeo.
 

You Cannot Be Serious!

Two of my students said things to me today that had me channeling my inner John McEnroe. For those of you not familiar with the reference, McEnroe was a tennis icon of the 1970s and 80s who was known for his acumen in the doubles game, his phenomenal net play, being left-handed, and most of all, for possessing a temper with a bit of a short fuse. He made famous the phrase which I used for this post's title.

The first thing I heard from one of my students happened when I was talking with him about his ambitions in high school and his career aspirations. It wasn't a confrontational conversation -- I was talking with him because he had missed a couple of assignments and those consequences had shown up on his most recent test. On top of the fact that he's not the hardest worker in the class, this incident made me ask him about his motivation, what he wants to get out of high school, and what field he would like to work in someday.

His response?

"I'm gonna try to file for disability because of my ADHD and broken ribs."

YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS!

1) Filing for disability, as a career goal, is less than optimal.
2) ADHD is treatable.
3) Broken ribs heal.
4) What the heck?

The next comment came from another student in the same class. We were working on a partial area problem. Their task was to calculate the area of a square, and subtract the area of an inscribed circle in order to find the area of the remaining four corners. After we had already figured out that the square's area is 64 and the circle's area was 50.74, all that was left was to subtract one from the other. Here's how the next exchange went:

~~~~~~~~~
ME: Alright [Bob], we've got the two areas... now we need to subtract. What's 64 minus 50.74?

[BOB]: I dunno.

ME: You've got a big, beautiful, expensive calculator in front of you... just tap in 64 minus 50.74.

[BOB]: Man, that's too much.

ME: (stunned expression)
~~~~~~~~

YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS!

1) You learned to subtract by borrowing in 2nd and 3rd grade.
2) I know for a fact that your thumbs work because you use them to text message your friends like it's your job.
3) What the heck?

When I stepped back from these situations and screwed my head back onto my shoulders, I was able to see the situation more clearly. My task is two-fold:

1) Cast a vision
2) Raise my expectations

If we have failed our students in any area, and if we absolutely MUST succeed in any area, it is these two. I am as guilty of this crime as anyone else. Upon seeing a poor test score or assignment or performance from a student, my all-too-common instinct is to lower my expectations. Make it easier. Put the cookies on a lower shelf.

Instead of saying to them, "There you are. Make yourself at home right where you are. I'll see to it that it's okay for you to stay there," I should be yanking them upward, looking them in the eyes, and saying, "You're not there yet, but you can be. You're intelligent, gifted, and capable of succeeding. This is how you do it."

Instead of saying, "Make sure you lock down a job at Burger King, just in case you flunk out of community college," I should be taking them on college campus tours, saying, "When you're choosing a major, make sure you're aware of the careers held by professionals with those same majors. That will give you an idea of some common options you'll have after studying that field."

Those two comments by my students weren't the issue... they were just symptoms. But they brought into sharp focus the crying need for our students to sense a higher calling than squeezing out low C's on their report cards.

Lost in Translation

Remember that scene in "Titanic"? You know, the one where Rose and Jack are running through the ship once everyone knows it's sinking?

Hold on...

Okay, I had to remove my manhood temporarily and place it in its cage while I use a "Titanic" analogy. It was trying to get away.

Anyway, Rose and Jack are running through the ship trying find a lifeboat or something, but the part I'm talking about is when they pass an immigrant family trying to read a sign with the evacuation map printed on it. They are frantically flipping through an English-to-Russian dictionary in order to decipher the words and escape to safety.

We only see them for a couple of seconds, but that family made an impression on me. Learning a new language is difficult and frustrating on its own. I tried to imagine compressing the stress of an entire year's worth of learning into 30 seconds, and adding to that the stress and panic of a life-or-death situation. It must be a terrifying and disheartening feeling. To empathize, I opened my new baby's dresser, and assembled it using the German directions. I'm proud to say the dresser works just fine, as long as you have a pick axe handy with which to open it.

I've been thinking about this more lately, after receiving the latest statistics regarding my school's ethnic composition. 15% of our students are of Hispanic origin, most of them classified ESL or ELL or LEP or whatever the most current acronym is for not having grown up in an English-speaking home. I have about 10 of these students spread over my three classes, and from my conversations with Hoek, he has an even greater percentage.

Most high school students have little love for math in the first place. I wonder how much more frustrating it is trying to learn math in a foreign language. Using what broken Spanish I know (I want to buy some butter, where is the airport, etc.), I've tried desperately to help my ELL students grasp the new concepts of geometry. Despite my own shortcomings, I see the relief in their faces when they are able to digest congruent angles and isosceles triangles by using familiar words.

More and more, God has been growing my heart for these students. Someone once said to me that, in the United States, you can be a missionary to the nations without leaving home... How true. I pray that God would give me not only linguistic skill, but a heart of compassion and availability to help meet their needs.

Thirst No More

I'd rather talk to you about it in person, he said. But what about? I was hopeful. Maybe he finally flipped through the untouched pages of the bible I bought for him almost 6 years ago and a passage touched him so deeply that he had to tell me. I was cautious. Maybe he did more than just throw a trash can through the school bathroom window which unfortunately landed on his principal's car this time and has to go back in to do more time in juvie. Either way I was curious and eager to spend time with him especially because HE had reached out to ME for the first time.

Since he graduated from middle school with all A's and B's and moved on from my class 4 years ago, he started slipping and no matter how much I prayed and spent time with him he continued to make one bad choice after another. God, why do keep pushing me toward him? I had asked as I made my way up to the Bronx to stand in as his character witness in family court. Father, what good is any of this doing? I had asked when I found out he lost the backpack, all the notebooks and other school supplies I had bought for him. Lord, how long must I do this for? I had complained whenever I called to only hear that he wasn't in for our weekly phone appointments. He even missed my wedding where he was to give a speech and hasn't been home the last few times I tried to get in touch with him. So for him to call me on his own accord and request to meet up downtown was no small thing.

From across the street at Union Square, I noticed he had grown out his hair a bit which was tied into a small pony tail. He was also thinner and his broad chest made him look more grown up and tough. His pants were more fitting now and there was no question he was taller than me now. Not only that, he had his own cell phone now, and the fact that he knew how to take the subway down to 14th street was a nice change.

I be getting mad when I walk around here Mr. Choi. I want to do my own thing, you know? I don't have my own space and I gotta get outa my grandma's house. These people have beautiful homes and with their nice balconies, you know what I'm saying? He was frustrated with his life. He felt trapped and didn't know what else to do but call me. He wanted a better life like the people around here. He realized he isn't getting any younger and that if he doesn't straighten out and take care of his business things weren't going to change for him. He wanted help finding a job and earn his high school credits for a diploma.

I was relieved because he wasn't in any more trouble. I was thankful that he was feeling frustrated enough to take action and not simply react when things to happened to him. I could still see that money was his only goal, his life savor, his get-out-of-jail card. I wanted him to understand that freedom is not hiding in modern New York City apartments or stuffed inside expensive leather brief cases. What he needed was to break free from his poverty mindset, victim mentality, and his search for some kind of magic wand that would fix all his wrongs and discontentment with one flick of the wrist.

I caught myself talking at him again, but God moved in my spirit and I knew my words were lost on him. I wasn't going to change him. But I loved him all over again at that moment and wanted desperately for him to see beyond the tangible things of life. But I realized that he needs to see, touch, observe, feel, and come to his own conclusions for things to actually drop in his heart.

Then God, what am I supposed to do? You keep telling me to reach out to him, but it all seems vain.
Love him, and involve him in your life. Let him love you and Purim. Make yourself available to him and consistently pursue him with your heart and in prayer. Let him come to you and he will eventually find me and I will give him everlasting water, and he will thirst no more. Be patient and obey me, and see what I do.

Much to be Proud About

Besides being a 10th grade global history teacher I also teach a class called AVID, or Advancement Via Individual Determination. Though the name is as corny as some of my other past involvements (I named our high school Christian a cappella group...wait for it...The Heavenly Voices!) It's actually a great program that serves students who are academically driven and wanting to be college bound.  Apart from teaching them specific skills and acting as their overbearing parent while they're in school, I basically get to do anything with them that increases their awareness of the world and the opportunities that lies within it.  Muhahaha!

So, after hearing about Stop Child Trafficking Now I pitched it to my AVID students thinking it would be a great community service and team building opportunity.  It was the first time I'd ever done something like this with my students and I braced myself for the difficult task of getting my students who have a hard time getting their own basic needs met to invest in this effort.  I showed clips, had them research statistics on child trafficking, and delivered lip quivering speeches.  To my surprise, some of my students really took hold of this cause and began running with it.  They made posters and fliers and posted them all over the school.  I helped them get organized into researchers, location managers, and action planners and we made plans to sell baked goods and soda during our lunch periods.  The goal was for us to raise $150 in 3 days which we were going to donate at the culminating event - a 5K walk in Manhattan.  Our fundraising efforts were only for three days because it hadn't been long since school started back up and the walk happened just yesterday.  I had my doubts along the way but a group of my AVID students really took it from my hands and ran the entire operation.  In fact, they were so on top of it that I gave over the reigns almost completely to the elected student team captain and they ended up raising $250 in just 3 days! They were so proud of themselves, and rightly so.

The morning of the walk was unmercifully early and very wet.  Purim, who's not a morning person, braved the hour train ride up to the Bronx to help me pick up my students.  Of the 11 that said they'd go, only 5 showed.  It was pouring and it was 8am.  I didn't blame them.  Even I didn't want to be there.  But I put on my happy face and dished embarrassing jokes at my students all the way down town.  By the time we got out on the other end, however, my students were already regretting being there.  By the look on their faces you would have thought they were being forced to clean dirty bathrooms!  Long story short, we got through the walk and several of the students even had really meaningful conversations with some of our super encouraging friends who were also participating in the walk.  Though we were tired and soaked we put on our best smiles and took this picture at the end of the walk.  Soon after, we finished out the day with a couple of pizzas and made for our respective beds.  I sincerely hope my students understand the significance of what they have done for children worse off than they all over the world.  It was a tough lesson to be learned, but I believe they are better for it.    

Friendly Fire

I just watched another student of mine, Deonte, walk out of school today under Sheriff's escort, suspended for five days. He had been caught skipping class for the fourth time. Talking with him in our assistant principal's office was an experience akin to what I imagine it is like trying to break a CIA covert operative. Deonte simply had nothing to say to me or our principal.

After watching Deonte in his Intro and Algebra I classes last year, I knew that he had a natural knack for math. Ideas came easy to him when they baffled others... I know because he passed his previous two math classes despite sleeping through most lectures and practice sessions. He would simply pick his head up, fill out his worksheets, and go back to sleep. Two things -- at least, two surface symptoms -- continually held him back. He rarely came to class if he wasn't escorted by an administrator, and his friends constantly pushed him in the wrong direction.

Coming back to the present moment... the worst part of his stonewalling was the complete lack of defiance, pride, or cockiness in his demeanor and facial expression. Most young men in high school, when they're staring down the barrel of disciplinary action, exhibit a brash confidence... a cocking of the head, an ever-so-slight combative sneer curling their lip, a protruding chin. Deonte showed me nothing.

And I mean nothing.

His eyes were vacant lots that screamed of resigned apathy. His slumped shoulders suggested that he might have been an abused, overworked pack mule in a previous life. He showed no spark of... anything.

I don't know for sure, and maybe I never will, but I can easily envision what produced that in him. I think that one day, someone important to Deonte told him one of the following things:

1) You're going to end up just like your father.
2) You're a worthless loser.
3) You'll be lucky to hold down an overnight job at WalMart.
4) You're nothing but a pain.
5) You'll be in jail before you'll ever be in college.
6) You'll end up strung out on drugs.
7) Etc...

Deonte and so many young men like him have heard something like this and embraced it as the truth. Maybe they've heard it so often that they can't fit any other possibility into their minds.

You probably know at least one young man in your life that has heard something like this. Please tell him something different. Give him another vision.

"I have set before you today life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life, that you and your children might live." ~Deuteronomy 30:19

Teaching Tip #1

Teaching, in many ways, is an art. The most subtlest of things can make or break a class period. It can be the way a teacher greets or not greets students at the door, or the pace a teacher walks around the classroom. These subtle yet powerful tips are not really taught in graduate schools. They can only be learned on the job, on the front lines, often times through many trials and many errors. So, here is the first of many teaching tips that I have picked up along the way that may be of interest to you.  I encourage you to try these out in your classrooms and let me know how it goes. 

My first tip:

After asking a question to the class, walk AWAY from the student who answers it. I have seen teachers going toward the student giving the answer in order to her him/her better. This is a mistake. You want the student to project so the entire class can hear. You never want a classroom discussion to become an A - B conversation because you'll lose everyone else, and that's an open invitation for disengagement and management issues. A classroom discussion should indeed be a whole classroom discussion, so walk away from the ones giving answers to make them project.

She's a Witch!

Logic and the ability to employ deductive reasoning is my favorite -- and I believe one of the most important -- higher-order critical thinking skills that we teach in high school. Really, it's the ability to argue well.

I get mentally and emotionally exhausted listening to students make a point about simple things. For example...

STUDENT #1 - No, Lebron James is the best player.

STUDENT #2 - Uh uh, it's Kobe.

#1 - Word on what?

#2 - Word on my life, Kobe's better.

#1 - Man, whatever. Word on my life, Lebron got like, 50 points a game last year.

#2 - Who got the championships? What?! WHO GOT THE CHAMPIONSHIPS? Word on what?

#1 - He soft. Lamar Odom did all the work.

#2 - Man whatever. Word on my life Kobe's the MVP.

And so it goes for minutes on end. There's no common ground of assumption. No one has agreed upon the criteria for a good basketball player. And the two combatants certainly aren't actually listening to each other's points. Here's what I'd like to see...

STUDENT #1 - I submit to you on the basis of individual statisical output that Lebron James is a superior basketball player to Kobe Bryant.

STUDENT #2 - I will agree to those grounds on one condition. Team postseason winning percentage must be included as a valid statistic for consideration.

#1 - Agreed. Will you allow plus/minus floor minutes also?

#2 - Yes.

#1 - Lebron James bested Kobe Bryant in every major statistical category last year, including points, rebounds, and assists per game, and even matched Kobe's supposedly superior perimeter shooting at 35%.

#2 - However, Kobe's plus/minus efficiency on the floor during the season was higher, indicating that his team more often outperforms opponents when he is on the floor.

#1 - That may be true for the regular season, but Lebron raised his plus/minus number to a whopping 35 during the playoffs.

#2 - Speaking of the playoffs, how did those wind up? I seem to remember Kobe hoisting the championship trophy after all was said and done.


It may be a juvenile example, but I don't think it an unreachable goal to expect students to be able to say of any given statement, "If 'A' is true, then 'B' is also true, and 'C' is false." We are preparing a generation of legislators, attorneys, philosophers, law enforcement, and writers. Each one should be able to watch an argument, and as Socrates once commanded, follow the evidence where it leads.

Evidence, truth, and reality matter. They should hold sway over all of our students, and should trump commitments based on emotion, assumption, or stubbornness.

Would you like to try your hand at thinking logically? Try this logic puzzle out. I'll post the solution in my next entry.

http://www.logic-puzzles.org/pdf/L911AY.pdf

Save Your Voice

I remember their eyes.  They had a certain intensity that they lacked all year long.  Today they were alert.  Alert, like when they hear gunshots outside their windows at night, alert.  Alert, like they were expecting an earthquake to start shaking their minds empty, alert. 

“What if we forget everything we’ve learned Mr. Choi?”

Alert like they were ready for flight, but not to stay and fight, and win, alert.   They were so afraid that they were quiet.  It was surreal.  After months upon months of chaos I felt somewhat in control for the first time, and it was nice.

“Who ate a good breakfast this morning like I told you to?” I asked to comfort, but all I got were blank stares, a couple of “sheeesh” and a few shaking heads.  “You guys are going to do great as long as you remember to do everything I taught you.” I made another feeble attempt but knew I was just wrapping clear scotch tape around broken legs.

I hadn’t taught much at all that first year, and frankly, I had no confidence that my students were going to pass the exam that morning either.  My students would simply remain in the “far below standards” category, and many would not even see the backs of the “approaching standard” kids because I wasn’t able to get them on that path to begin with.  I tried so hard.  I barely slept, and many a morning I lay in bed tortured in my soul because I loved my students but seemed not to be making any progress with them.  I really tried to teach, but they simply didn’t let me.

The phone in the corner of the room rang alarmingly in the midst of tense silence. Sandy from the office notified me that Corey, a student who had missed more than half the school year, had shown up on this particular day.  How did he know to come on the day of the English Reagents Exam when he missed everything else?  Principal Thomas was escorting him down to our room as the rest of class 705 sat waiting to hear the squealing wheels in the halls to come around with the exams.  Anthony twisted in his chair to whisper something to Israel, and then peered over at me with a whiny face begging me to save him from this nightmare.  I desperately wanted him to do well on this exam, but I was powerless and I simply answered with a raised eyebrow and a shrug of my shoulders from across the room. 

“Whaddup my NIGGAS!  The king’s back in the house!”  Corey announced himself as he busted through the door punishing the wall behind it.  He came impressively dressed for the special occasion. He had freshly done cornrows, and his shape-up was so straight and tight I could have parked a car against it.  He had on clean white Jordan’s under his baggy jeans that were thoughtfully tucked in on the front of his shoes behind the tongue.  Black and white laces crisscrossed each other and none of them were twisted like they inevitably do.  Reaching almost to his knees was a bleach white Sean John t-shirt.  Corey swaggered in with a certain confidence about him that was intimidating, and even as he addressed the class he managed to make eye contact with me out of the corner of his eyes only for a split second but just long enough to assert his dominance and disrespect for my authority. 

“Welcome back Corey.  Please take a seat at the desk in the back.”  I tried my best to appear unnerved by his obnoxious entrance.

“Oh, I gotta sit in the back now cuz I’m black right? Yeeeaaah son, I got you!  This little Asian punk’s tryin’ to play a brotha.”

I felt my jaw tighten and sensed my sanity jolt as if a car door unmercifully jammed it between two metal frames while attempting to settle in for a smooth ride.  I held my breath, wanting to spit out curses propelled by saliva and exasperated breaths.  But I held it.  I turned around and held it, letting it wheeze out slowly from the corners of my mouth, like when you carefully unscrew the cap on a shaken Pepsi bottle.  I felt my anger stretching the tiny capillaries in my eyes, but I managed to hold my composure.     

One would expect a class to look on nervously and wait for the teacher’s wrath to engulf the aggressor in such a situation, but my students burst out laughing and gave Corey high fives, their minds completely off the exam now.  In that short moment I lost the class and I couldn’t bring them back to that place of focus, the place of utter fear and nervousness, their hell and my haven.

Students were out of their seats and walking all around me like I was nothing but a friendly ghost and as if my stern urging for them to “Sit down and be quiet!” were just the sounds of their neighbors fighting behind thin walls. I hated feeling powerless.  How did these thirteen year olds manage to make me feel so small and stupid, and so often?  Damn it! 

Without any regard for me, the class settled down on their own and resumed their zombie status when the exams arrived with Ms. Ramos, the short fiery Puerto Rican school aid.  She always felt bad for me when she walked into my class, and I guess also felt obligated to scream the cornrows off my kids before leaving the room.  This assistance often didn’t help because it fueled the students’ rambunctious spirits even more just before they were left alone with me again.  Still, I always appreciated her intentions.  She was a good lady.  She once stole butcher paper from the office for me so I could cover my bulletin boards sky blue. 

With Ms. Ramos out of the room, the tests were now out on everyone’s desk and I began to read through the directions.  Silence resumed over the room, but just as I got to “Remember to only use a number two pencil to fill in the circles” Corey stood up and proceeded to belt out off-key notes to I Believe I Can Fly.  Maybe he was more scared of failing than anyone else in the room.  Maybe he knew he would fail and simply wanted to delay the inevitable.  Either way he did not stop.  He kept on going despite my repeated instructions for him to sit down and be quiet. 

I could not endure him singing, taunting me as he joked with his eyes, a smug grin on the corner of his mouth, and completely disarming me of all authority.  Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer and I tore into him without mercy,

“Save your voice for the subways kid cuz you’re going to need it to feed yourself in about three years!“ 

That’s what I said to a boy who had been thrown away from birth, yanked from one abusive foster family to another, left alone to fend for himself in the streets—completely foreign to my reality—by making deals and winning respect.  I made an imprint on this 15-year-old kid that day.  He was just a kid.

Everything that happened afterwards is a blur.  He was spitting threats into my face one minute and then was being dragged out the door by blue uniforms the next.  Maybe he had succeeded.  After all, he had saved himself from failing the exam by never having to take it.

Consequences will follow my condemning prophecy as he would later be thrown into jail for possession of cocaine.  He was caught while pimping a girl in the streets.  However, he was indicted for possession of cocaine the police found in the inside pocket of his jacket, which one of his girls were wearing.  Learning of Corey’s fate recently, I couldn’t help but wonder what I could have done differently from all his other teachers in his life, and if it would have made any difference. 

10 Things I Hate About You

...from a student to a teacher.

1) You labeled me before you heard me speak.

2) You expect me to be tardy, loud, and lazy.

3) I haven't eaten three healthy meals in a row in over a month, but you still expect me to spend $110 on a calculator.

4) I won't dare speak of college around you, because I'm certain you would think it is a laughable possibility.

5) You try to entertain me instead of teach me, when we both know you can't compete with my Playstation and TV.

6) You look at me the same way the security guards in the mall do.

7) You and the other teachers belittle and disparage me behind closed doors.

8) To you, my value is attached to my ScanTron score.

9) You never ask me what I'm good at, what I love to do, what makes me come alive.

10) Your love and respect, which you withhold from me, would give me joy, would give me life, would save my life.

Social Justice

Social Justice, the concern of the century
Every gender, race, social class and history
embraced and treated without bias
but can all claim it as their reality?

It's one thing to preach and another
to practice or believe
in the end we all politely agree
From top to bottom flow policies
but they're just diversions created to last
only as long as their authors' political terms

Step into my classroom where
hormones fly like balled up paper
where different tongues represent different flags
where yellowing eyes and tattered hopes are life's norms
where from within our school's barred windows
We look out into the avenues of our nation's neglected
We look out through our barred windows

like our brothers and our fathers.

They didn't choose this.

They've been cornered  into
the dregs of society.   Stand-
ardized, compartmentalized
institutionalized,generalized
demoralized,     economized

Social Justice?
It must be taught and practiced
within our classroom walls
but it'll always be
in conflict at the heart of every child
and every teacher.
Yes, social justice is a must
but it's like the hazy horizon
We can see it in the distance,
We might even walk towards it,
but the morning sun always seems to rise
on yonder, far away from where we stand.
It's there, but never here.

The Road Not Taken

I just finished watching "Boyz n the Hood" for the first time. It wasn't an intended part of my post, but it had a profound enough effect on me to make it into this entry.

Set in South Central L.A. in the early 1990s, the movie follows two brothers, Doughboy and Ricky, and their friend Tre, who lives across the street. Ricky and Tre have reached the end of high school, and each have bright futures ahead of them in athletics and academics -- but they are haunted by the destructive lifestyles chosen by so many young men around them, including Doughboy. In the end, Ricky is gunned down by gang members provoked by Doughboy's volatile temper.

I'm not about to attempt a full-blown commentary on this situation faced by boys across the country. This movie just elicited an emotional reaction from me, because in those characters, I see the young men whom I teach every day.

Today, I had a very candid talk with my class. I mentioned in passing that I expect all of them to master our material because it will be important to their continued education in college. One student commented quietly (he didn't think I could hear him),

"No way they'll let me into college."

You should know two things about this young man, whom we'll call Devon. He is very intelligent and comprehends math concepts easily. He also has a troubled past, having moved from another city two years ago. Judging by Devon's comment, he has embraced an all-too-common self-fulfilling prophecy. He believes that his future is more or less set. He probably envisions himself living a life of low-paying menial jobs, broken relationships, and possibly even prison. When I heard his comment, I felt the call and need to speak what was on my heart.

What I explained to the class was that I truly expect them to have the opportunity to attend college when they graduate from high school. If they choose not to attend, it will indeed be because they chose another path... not because their high school career precluded it. I expect them to take difficult classes after mine -- classes that would stretch their abilities, cause them headaches, challenge them.

Most of all, I wanted them all to know that they still had a clean slate ahead of them. Regardless of what ghosts might hang over them, they had the potential to change, and to see a better fate befall them than they had witnessed.

I walk into class every day taking for granted that every student will still be there. Granted, Durham, NC is nowhere close to Los Angeles in terms of daily stress and danger. Maybe I'm getting too worked up over a movie. My hope is to milk every opportunity I have with these kids, even if only for 90 days.

"Print Rich"

That's what the administrators are calling my classroom this year.  It's also my new nickname among my closest co-workers as punishment for taking my job too seriously.  It's a difficult name to say though - Print Rich.  I can't even say it twice in a row without swallowing my tongue.  I didn't foresee that agreeing to show my room to teachers as an example of a print rich classroom would bring so much persecution!  (For those who are not familiar with this term, it refers to a well prepared classroom that is rich in text, pictures, diagrams, and other relevant literature and/or objects that are conscientiously designed to increase student literacy and understanding of the subject content taught in it) If I wasn't being harassed with text messages under the table all throughout today's professional development I was being visited by the entire all male deans' office while I was taping up the global history time line yesterday in my room.  They have been giving me a hard time because they are being asked to follow suit and make their rooms just as "print rich," and frankly it's a bit too much to ask of such manly men. 

Almost every day my co-workers try to distract me from planning ahead, from taking meetings seriously, or from taking on leadership responsibilities within the school.  Don't get me wrong, it's important to laugh and not take everything so seriously.  Otherwise, I'll burn out by the time Christmas rolls around when students uniformly decide they are going to make the teachers earn their vacation days.  They fight more frequently and with increased violence, they become restless during lessons, and all the norms you've established with them become lost in their distant memories.  It's around this time I see teachers throwing back double shots of Red Bull outside the corner bodega before lowering their shoulders and charging into school.  It happens every year.  I really should remember to capture this scene with my iphone this year and share it with you all.    

Truth is, it's not easy to stay motivated and to keep pushing against what seem like immovable mountains.  I couldn't help but be somewhat discouraged to know that my co-workers only see genuine effort as a rookie mistake or as in my case sucking up to superiors.  But after everyone left the building and all I could hear were my own feet against the broad tile floors and my hands smoothing out posters against bulletin boards, I had to remind myself that I do all of this unto God.  Inner city students are who God has called me to love and serve.  However, I have not yet seen mind blowing results since I started teaching at the high school level three years ago.  In many ways I feel all the miraculous successes I saw during my prior three years at MS 201 didn't transfer and that I have had to start all over.  But I don't perform miracles.  What I can and continue to do is stay faithful to what's been given me and do my absolute best every day.  I love and relate with my students the best way I know how, I prepare until I am dry of ideas, and I teach to the best of my God given ability.  I will do these things excellently through Christ who gives me strength.  God will do the rest, and you can be sure that results will follow to the testimony of God's amazing love and power for my students.

Another Brick in the Wall

Out for a morning stroll, a man happened to pass by a large construction site. Three workers were toiling under the hot sun, laying brick together along a forty-foot-long wall.

"What are you doing?", the man inquired of the first worker.

"What does it look like, buddy? I'm laying brick. Real thrilling, huh?", replied the man with no small hint of sarcasm.

Curious, the man approached the next worker. "What are you doing?", he repeated.

"Well, I'm putting in a foundation, and then we'll move on to the first floor walls," the 2nd worker said, gesturing toward where the next level would be located.

Finally, the man approached the last worker and asked him, "What are you doing?"

The worker turned to the man with a smile beaming from his soiled and sweaty face. "I'm building a great cathedral that will honor God and reflect His glory for as long as it stands. When it's finished, I hope you'll attend our first worship service here."

Three workers attending to the same task. Three different perspectives on the task's purpose. Which worker do you think enjoyed his job? Which do you think showed up on time every day, eager to start the day's labor? Which do you think made his friends wonder if they, too, should pursue a job in construction?

Just to refresh your memory, I'm a math teacher. Specifically, I teach geometry. Some of you reading this may have thrown up in your mouth a little bit just from reading that word. I realize that many students out there would rather take "History of 19th Century Dental Procedures" than sit through a semester of math, and by now, I know better than to try to make math everyone's favorite subject.

Instead, my desire is that every student would realize what the little tasks amount to in the long run. Learning to simplify radicals and prove congruent triangles must seem like brick-laying to many students -- in fact, some of them would KILL for the chance to lay brick instead of labeling vertical angles. But I yearn for them to, like the 3rd builder, recognize the small tasks as necessary steps toward building something greater and grander, of which they'll enjoy the fruits for the rest of their lives. I wish, when they are balancing an equation, or conjugating verbs, or summarizing Brown v. Board of Education, that they could envision themselves modeling wind shear for an aircraft, writing an op-ed for the Times, or preparing an opening statement to defend their client.

An ancient proverb tells us, "When vision is lacking, the people perish." How true! I firmly believe that if every student could have a "Back to the Future" moment, and see the end results of so many small decisions, we would see many more self-motivated learners. This old French guy said it best:

"If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up the men to gather wood, divide the work and give orders. Instead, teach them to yearn for the vast and endless sea."
~Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Ready, Set, Inspire!

Every year around this time I climb treacherous mountains, cross over frigid rivers, dig deep into the dark ocean floors and wrestle large fanged animals to discover the secrets of life to inspire my students. Consequently, quotes from Nelson Mandela, Albert Einstein, and even from the depths of my own soul - appropriately signed as anonymous - have gone up on my classroom walls in the hopes of catapulting my students into a working frenzy straight out of the gate in early  Septembers.  However, it seems that I often only manage to baffle the young minds of the South Bronx leaving them confused and lost up on the treacherous mountains, frozen in frigid rivers and ocean floors, and trapped in the death grips of large fanged animals.


For instance, I challenged my students last year with "The  greatest weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed." Thinking it would stir up passion, a positively directed anger if you will, and motivate them to work hard I mustered up all my creative energy to design and display it above the front board.  Needless to say, it was almost entirely lost on them.  And despite my efforts to revive the life of the quote throughout the year, its corners began to peel off the wall from humidity, and the once bright colors slowly faded.  Thanks Crayola Classic Markers!   


I do believe that an effective quote can have many entry points into our students' lives and have great impact in their paths to success, both academically and beyond.  Everything that goes up on my classroom walls, with the exception of last year's quote, is interactive and referenced constantly.  They have purpose.  

So today, I desperately reach out to you for inspiration that I may forward it to my students via my classroom wall.  Please submit motivational quotes and sayings (in the comments section) that you think will stimulate and motivate my 15 year old students.  Quotes should be simple, catchy, and meaningful.  You may also provide a brief explanation of the quotes superiority if you'd like.  I will display the winning quote in my classroom by the first day of school (September 8th), take a picture of it, and give you mad props on a future post.  I look forward to hearing from you!   
 
 

A Parable from the Greatest Movie Ever

“Intelligence plus character – that is the goal of true education.”
~Martin Luther King, Jr.

I could not agree more.

Just about every male in America between the ages of 22 and 35 owns a copy of the movie "Braveheart". Watching that movie amounts to some sort of masculinity ritual in many households. I’m thinking of incorporating it into a hyper-macho Bar Mitzvah when my sons turn 13.

Towards the beginning of the movie, set in medieval Scotland, young William Wallace, the protagonist, becomes an orphan when his father and older brother are killed in a battle with their British occupiers. At the funeral, William is adopted by his Uncle Argyle – who, I swear, is someone’s vision of what Ernest Hemingway would have looked like if he was born in Edinburgh in A.D. 1080.

Later, William is studying his uncle’s claymore, a gigantic Scottish broad sword. (Ladies, if you are ever stuck on what to get your husband for his birthday or Christmas, get him a sword. A real one. It’s a guaranteed hit.) Argyle indulges young William, allowing him to feel the sword's weight and power, before taking it back from him. What follows is one of the great lines in cinematic history:

ARGYLE: First, learn to use this. (Thumps William on the forehead.) Then, I’ll teach you to use... this. (SCHING! Removes the sword from its scabbard.)

The message is clear. A sword has weight, power, and strength. But that power will be useless at best, and destructive at worst, in the hands of someone who has not been taught to use it properly.

Education is much the same as the sword of Wallace’s youth. The power to use language eloquently and persuade people with words can be a blessing or a curse, depending on the man or woman who wields those words. A keen understanding of biochemistry can cure a disease, or create a weapon out of it. As educators, we must not be so open-minded that we assume that every application of knowledge is a noble one. Great evil can and has been wrought from a mind unfettered by moral concerns.

As an educator, I am committed to shaping not only the mind, but also the conscience.

Going Big

I'm always impressed by people who aren't afraid to go big - Tiger Woods has won 14 majors and 70 tour events; Michael Phelps has won enough olympic gold medals to make it his retirement plan; Bloomberg has a networth of $16 billion and has dominated most of the financial services market. It's amazing what people can do for themselves, but when it comes to solving the problem of poverty and educational inequality, there has not been an answer that withstands the test of time, or a person's political term. But I came across The Harlem Children's Zone started by Geoffery Canada, a native of the South Bronx of New York, which positively influences inner city children from within the womb all way through college. He is absolutely convinced that poverty can be beaten through quality education in the home and in school, and he is on a mission to see it through. The funny thing is that everyone has known and agrees with Canada's preaching, but can't make it work on a grand scale. Mr. Canada is somehow making it happen. I aspire to be like this man who truly affects change and brings tranformation to entire communities.

Click on the logo (left) to listen to a 30 minute segment on Mr. Canada on This American Life. Click on Colbert (right) to see a hilarious 5 minute interview with him. Frankly, I don't know what makes people decide to be a guest on Colbert's show. They'd be better off appearing on a jumbo screen being pantsed by a drunk friend at a Giants' game. G. Canada holds it together though.

Oh to be as savvy as Geoffrey Canada and as witty as Stephen Colbert.

They Hate Me at First, But Just You Wait

I know we're starting on the right foot in my class when I see students second guessing their actions and look unsure of their surroundings. I say this not because I enjoy mercilessly torturing my students. Please, don't get the wrong idea. You see, most students who enter my classroom in the beginning of their 10th grade year have never had structure and discipline in an academic setting let alone at home. So when they reach me, all the procedures and "crazy" expectations I have for them feel like fat suits on a hellish summer day. They are timed getting into the classroom. Everyone sits and starts his "do now" activity (also timed) together on my signal, and if we fail to do this in perfect silence and in good time we start all over. Everyone is expected to respond to hand signals. There is no down time in our class. If students even look like they're cheating on a quiz, they ARE cheating and will receive a zero, except they won't know until they get their papers back. Phrases like "time on task" and "accountable talk" are commands not suggestions, and there are heavy prices to pay should anyone test out the waters. You get the idea. I won't lie and say it's absolutely air tight yet, but it's close.

Believe me, it's not easy for me to wear a straight face and keep up the intensity every single day either. Students loath me in the first months of school! But what most of them don't know is that they will grow to really love and appreciate our class by the second or third. With structure in place my students begin to take ownership over their learning because that's what we do in our class, and we take it serious. As students cultivate new habits of mind and academic skills I witness students proving to themselves, many for the first time, that they can achieve. But this wouldn't happen if I didn't take the time and effort to lay down the law and set high expectations.

I'm also learning, however, that high expectations alone, like memorizing 500 vocabulary definitions for my class, is often not convincing enough for them to actually do it. Many a time I've sat with students after school or during lunch with vocabulary note cards and a timer to prove to them that they can meet high expectations.

"You can do it!" I'd exclaim, but he's skeptical. "C'mon, fifteen definitions in fifteen minutes. You ready? Go!" With every flip of an index card I'm throwing word associations, hand gestures, and funny noises to help him remember the definitions for justification, mercantilism, imperialism...By the end, we're both half standing and leaning over the table from opposite sides, and he is spitting out answers as he shoots glances at the timer and recalls the gestures and noises for each word until the alarm goes off.

"YES!" He'd throw his hands up above his head and a smile as long as the Brooklyn Bridge would stretch from one ear to the other as if he just sank the winning jumper at the buzzer. "I can't believe I just did that!" He'd exclaim and breath out with surprise and relief.

"I told you! Now, don't ever tell me you can't do it! Go memorize the rest yourself and practice the strategy we just used." I'm not exaggerating. This literally happens with many of my students every single year. I putter like a clunky old Volvo with two hundred fifty thousand miles under its hood at the end of these 15 minute sprints, but it works.

I love hearing my students get excited about themselves; not about cash rewards the state gives out to successful test takers, or free movie tickets, or any other shallow and transient gratifications. My students are not stupid and worthless as many of them have constantly been told. They are students who "can" but they have to realize that, and the most I can do for them is usher them to that discovery. Anyone can teach, but it's cooler when students learn. It takes a whole lot of patience and creativity to instill values, habits, and skills that will help them to excel in such a way, but it's so worth it!

Wait 'til next year...

"Alright, Mr. Jones, I'll be there," said Tamara.

She then walked out of my classroom after 2nd period, and
I haven't seen her since.

Just to remove any doubt, Tamara hasn't had anything tragic happen to
her -- not in a CTU-Jack-Bauer crisis kind of way. Tamara came into my
geometry class this past spring as one of the most naturally talented,
mathematically gifted students I have ever taught. Algebra came easily
to her, and she had no problem applying it to concepts like
supplementary angles and congruent line segments... even after missing
the first week of classes. To put that in perspective, I teach in a
four-period block school, so she actually missed the equivalent of ten
standard classes.

After two weeks of relatively steady attendance, Tamara started missing
about two days of class per week. Later she was missing three,
sometimes four, classes per week. About six weeks into the semester, I
pulled Tamara aside to talk to her about her slipping grades and
attendance.

"Tamara, somehow you're still holding down a B average on your tests,
but your missing homework grades are going to start affecting your
performance. I mean, you're not getting to practice to new concepts,
either in class or at home."

Tamara gave a reluctant smile. "I know, Mr. Jones... it's just that I
had a baby this past Christmas, and most days I can't get anyone to
watch her. I can only come to school when my mom can get off of work."

What do you say to that?

I tried.

"Tamara, based on your raw talent for math, you can still
make it in this class. I think you're looking at a possible 'B'. A 'C'
is more likely, but I just want you to know your range."

"I know... I've always been good at math. I really want to make this
work," Tamara replied.

"Here's my offer," I said. "If you can make it to at least two days of
school per week, I'll make sure I stay after school with you every day
that you come in order to catch you up on what you miss."

"Okay."

"If you can do that... well, I can't make any guarantees, but you're
smart enough to make it. Can you be here on Thursday, in class and
after school?", I finished.

"Alright, Mr. Jones, I'll be there."

Why I Teach

My name is Matt, and I love teaching.

Obviously, this is a blog by two high school teachers, so naturally this half of the blog’s authorship has some inkling of passion for teaching. But when I say that I love teaching, I mean that it’s a lifestyle for me.

My wife, Jessica, thinks my penchant for instruction is, at different times, charming, funny, quirky, and downright irritating. When she asks me to teach her a new board game – this past Wednesday, it was “RISK”, my all-time favorite – she now knows she is delving into a serious engagement that may very well occupy our entire evening. For more on the hazards of “teaching” your spouse, see Hoek’s post on leaving the teacher at work.

(For all you RISK fans out there, wondering how it turned out… she made the mistake of conceding South America and Australia to me in consecutive turns while she hammered away at North America. I crushed her two turns later.)

Now, to make some use of that digression: the joy and thrill of my life is the moment, great or small, when a student gets it. Hopefully, you have had the privilege at least once in your life to experience this moment for yourself and/or witness it in someone else. It is the moment when the forehead transitions from wrinkled to smooth. The eyebrows, once scrunched and drawn together in confusion, now lift up with surprise and relief. The dull glaze falls from the eyes, and they are filled with recognition and resolution. These moments of learning are food for a teacher’s soul, and I am no exception.

My point is that while I have a love for my students and a desire to see their destinies realized, my desire to teach has a very mercenary component. I enjoy it, and get a kick out of it.

On the other side of the same coin is the calling that I feel toward teaching. God has created me to be a teacher, and I can’t seem to do anything else.

Trying to think of an analogy, I came up with Casey, the golden retriever up with whom I grew. (Thank you, Winston Churchill.) If you’ve ever owned a retriever, you know very well how they earned their moniker. They retrieve stuff all the dang time. Shoes are the stereotypical item of choice, but lacking that, Casey would bring us stuffed animals, baseball gloves, remote controls, pillows… anything he could wrap his mouth around. And just try to play a game of Frisbee with him around. He never had as much fun as when he was chasing down a long throw from my dad.

When you looked at Casey, you knew two things:
1)God created that dog to go get stuff and bring it back.
2)He loved doing that more than anything else.

Whether I’m fulfilling my calling well will be up to my peers and principals and ultimately my Lord. For now, I’m content doing what I was created for as best I know how.

My name is Matt, and I love teaching. I look forward to sharing my life and stories with you.

Leave Your Classroom Without It

If you are a teacher or have friends who are teachers, do you find that you or your teacher friends never quite leave behind "the teacher" at work? Meaning, do teachers often interact with their friends or peers as they would with their students? A friend of mine used to complain to me that his previous girlfriend would talk to him as though he was one of her middle school students, especially when they got into a fight. He used to be furious getting off the phone with her saying, "I'm not an adolescent child! She doesn't need to talk to me like that!" You know how we do with our students -- explaining and re-explaining the same thoughts but slower and with superfluous enunciation of key words in hopes that our students will get it "this" time around.

I have always prided myself for not falling into this category of teachers in my years of teaching though. Sure, I've become much more interested in politics and began referencing more historical facts in conversations since becoming a history teacher. And yes, I unconsciously draw venn diagrams, t-charts, K-W-Ls, and other animated graphic organizers in my mind while watching the food network or listening to a sermon at church. But never have I talked down to my wife or treated my peers as though they were one of my under-arm-hair-checking teenage students. Never!

Until recently.

I remember people warning me that once married we'd fight about the most trivial of things, and it happened. My wife and I got into the biggest argument the other day because I did not agree with the way she was flattening left over cardboard boxes to fit into the garbage bag. Observing her struggling to detach each corner of the boxes without ripping them so they can be neatly folded flat, I graciously offered my suggestion of simply stomping on them, folding the edges in and stomping on them some more. It would be a much quicker and less strenuous method. No, so said. She liked her way better because it was neater. At that point I began explaining to her the intricate details of the recycling process and how my method will minimize the surface area to volume ratio, therefore fitting more into the bag, not to mention the time and effort she will save in the process. It didn't matter. She kept insisting that she do it her way and for me to leave her alone. Well, in my caring nature, I took the boxes from her and demonstrated my superior method, all the while thinking I understood something that she didn't just like how many of my students simply don't have the knowledge or life's wisdom that "I do" to comprehend certain things. Oops.

The rest of the night didn't go quite as I had hoped, but the boxes still got recycled...all of them. So may the moral of this blog resound loudly and clearly for all us teachers. Leave your teacher in the classroom!

What Do You Get When You Combine Popeye’s Chicken and Perseverance

Walking through Harlem brought back memories from my first year in New York. I used to live up on 117th and Manhattan Avenue just one block away from Morningside Park, but on the east side of it, the wrong side. That was when the park was still drug infested and crack heads used to hang around the 116th street subway stop at night to haggle straphangers as they emerged from the dingy underground.

Today, I was on my way to Israel’s high school graduation to be held just blocks away from where I had lived. He was one of my students during my first years of teaching and I couldn’t help but reminisce over those years as I walked along the now gentrified streets. The first year of teaching was by the far the most challenging year of my life. I had just begun teaching at a middle school in the South Bronx that one could have easily mistaken for a juvenile detention center from the outside. I remembered returning home on the cross-town bus exhausted from an excruciatingly painful day at work. I was so frustrated and felt so helpless with my students that I began silently praying on the bus, which then turned into quiet mutterings, which then turned into a full on tear fest. My cheek muscles twitched uncontrollably with every sob as my tears began creating dark bruise marks on my shirt and tie I had recently bought to make myself look older than my seventh grade students. I didn’t care that people around me were staring at me, not so much with concern, but more with side looks and tight lips that said “mmm mmm, that Asian man musta gotten hisself drunk already.” It was in that state of derangement and complaining to God that I saw Popeye’s Chicken outside the bus window. It was a desperate cry for help and quite out of context in hindsight, but at that moment I complained to God that all I simply wanted was some good fried chicken from Popeye’s. That’s not too much to ask right?

Needless to say, I managed to get off at the right stop and drag my feet up the front steps of my brownstone building. I walked in and closed the door muffling the sound of reggaeton and screaming children behind me. It was when I went over to my desk to put my bag down that I saw a box of Popeye’s Chicken with a yellow sticky note that read, “I was driving home from Philly when I saw Popeye’s. I know how much you LOVE their chicken so I made a u-turn and got these for you. Your roommates let me in. Sorry I couldn’t see you! Enjoy! Love, your little sis.”

What?! God, are you serious! There’s no way! For a few seconds I stood paralyzed as tingling sensations pulsed through my body. Rationalizations jumped across synapses in my brain, and unintelligent calculations of the odds of this happening blurred through my mind to make sense of it all. But indeed, the red and white box lay before me, and strangely enough God’s amazing love was confirmed for me right at that moment.

I carefully lifted the box into my arms and cradled it like I had just birthed my first child into the world. I sat down and held the drumstick between my quivering hands but couldn’t even eat it let alone see it because tears were gushing out of my skinny eyes. I was so thankful to God that he would even answer my most silly prayers to let me know that he sees my pain and to assure me that I was exactly where I needed to be according to his perfect will. That day God used my sister and a box of fried chicken to help me remember why I had answered to his call to go educate the inner-city youth. Sure, my students were difficult and I had no idea how to even begin breathing knowledge and life into them, but my hope and strength was restored that night. After an emotional night I woke up the next morning to go teach the very students who caused me to break down on the bus.

That happened six years ago when Israel sat in class 705 and often defended me against other merciless students. He did so using many profane expressions, but I allowed it during those occasions. So, what do you get when you combine Popeye’s Chicken and perseverance? You get a high school graduate, and I had the privilege of attending Izzy’s graduation held in the historic Apollo Theater. He’s the first in his family to graduate from high school and go to college. How much of a part did I play in his success? I don’t know if that can be measured and it’s not important, but I do know I never quit on him or on any of my other students. He and I have both come a long way since then, and today I got to sit with Izzy’s family as their one honored guest and cheer for him as obnoxiously as I could when he walked across the stage.