September, 2012

Cool vs. Not-Cool—More Relativity

We already know this: What is “cool” varies from person to person. We knew it in school. Some kids thought drugs and partying were cool; some disagreed vehemently. That’s more extreme, but there are grayer shades.

Which kids in your class did you think were cool? I’m not talking jocks and cheerleaders vs. geeks and nerds. More like which cheerleader—the queen-bee who seems to have it all under control, the sweet one who seems happy all the time, the hard-working one who’s all about perfecting her handsprings? (Were they all the same person in your case?)

Who we individually think is cool is entirely subjective. Collectively, though, there’s generally a majority agreeing on one person/thing or another being cool.

When I’m teaching, most of my time is naturally devoted to the whole “teaching” part. Still, there are a few minutes in every class near the end where I fall into people-watching. Some students are obviously the “cool” kids (and there’s usually more than one distinct set of them). Some are obviously on the outskirts of Popularity-ville. Many are somewhere in-between.

I should know better, but it still surprises me sometimes to see who some kids are (or aren’t) friends with.

The whole thing is such a game. Even as adults, we don’t escape it. And yet, as an adult, it twists a little.

Not all my students think I’m cool. Some don’t even like me a little bit. But I can guarantee I’m “cooler” and more popular as a teacher than I ever was as a student.

The students who do think I’m cool often strike me as those who wouldn’t have noticed me when I was in school.

On the flip-side … I see those “popular” kids in a way I never could back in those days.

Perspective. Relativity.

We’re a bunch of complicated creatures, aren’t we?

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The Secret Society of Writers—We’re EVERYWHERE!

My new/old classroom has a couple of bulletin boards—a long one along the side of the room and a square one next to the whiteboard at the front. It’s been a while since I’ve had that kind of wall space, and I’ve never really been skilled at fantastic bulletin board design, so I was kind of at a loss.

I ended up putting some math stuff on the long one and decided to make some color print-outs of book cover images for the smaller one. It makes the kids ask questions—”Uh, Miss Lewis, why do you have a bunch of book covers up in math class?”—and gives a good excuse to talk to them about not pigeonholing themselves or others.

I’ll probably change it later, but for now, it works.

The other day, our librarian/media center coordinator/general queen of awesome stopped by to see when I wanted to come in with my classes to get our new textbooks. She caught sight of the book covers and said, “Oh! I want to read that steampunk but haven’t gotten to it yet!” (Incidentally, The Unnaturalists by agent-mate Tiffany Trent!)

She already knew about my publishing deal from one of the other math teachers. One thing leads to another and … she says the magic words:

“Then there’s me, still at the querying stage.”

She knows what ‘querying’ means.

We speak the same language.

She is one of us!

We launch into talk of how she writes contemporary YA and has her ms out to an agent. How she uses QueryTracker and how I think she really ought to stop by AgentQuery Connect and check it out (because really, every writer should). How we’re both on Twitter and she thinks my agent is awesome and hilarious (because @literaticat is awesome and hilarious).

Meanwhile, the other math teacher I’d been planning with thinks we’re both a little crazy.

Well, let’s face it. We are a little crazy.

We’re writers.

And we find each other at the least-expected moments sometimes.

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So, You Want Me to Undermine My Colleagues, or What?

We had our first parent-teacher conference this past week. Overall, a great experience. I love the chance to talk one-on-one with students’ parents. They see what I’m all about, and I get new insight to the kids I teach.

The last encounter of the night was a little strange, though. It wasn’t a parent of one of my students. It was the parent of another teacher’s student, in the grade below the one I teach.

She was concerned about the teacher her child has (but I didn’t entirely get why). She was concerned about the new standards. (She’s not the only one, but guess what—I kinda like them.) She said she’d talked to the principal before school started, and then again that night. He’d pointed me out to her (I’m not sure why).

Bottom line, I have no idea what this mother wanted from me. Just hoping that I’ll have the same class assignment next year and will get her child? Just wanting to vent and have someone tell her they understand?

Did she want me to say, “You heard right. I’m awesome. Sorry my colleague sucks.”

On what planet would I ever do that?

On what planet would it ever be acceptable for anyone to do this?

That’s my gut reaction. On the other hand, I understand how frustrated parents can be when a teacher isn’t working for their student. There often isn’t much they can do about it, and I really know the kind of impact a bad (or good) math teacher in particular can have on a kid.

On the other other hand (the third one, right?), I’ve already been dealing with teacher reputations a ton this year. I’m the “new” teacher, so kids who didn’t want the other option (whether by past experience or by reputation) transferred to me just for that. The “other option” is not a bad teacher, nor a bad person. We plan our units together. As far as I know, we don’t teach that differently.

Try telling that to the people who figured even an unknown quantity had to be better.

Then again, I agree that sometimes certain personalities don’t gel in a great way, so one teacher might be more effective with certain types of kids than another.

But the end effect is that my classes are all bigger than the others in the grade.

*sigh*

Is there a solution to any of this? Probably not, other than to do what I plan on doing … continuing to do the best job I can in my classroom, and maintain my professionalism at all times.

I’m not going to cut down good, hard-working teachers. I hope no one else would do so to me, either.

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People-Watching, Junior High Style

This Friday, a few more random observations from the teen-trenches, post-Parent-Teacher-Conference edition.

Sometimes when two teens don’t get along, it’s mega-obvious. Like, their proximity to each other includes a DEFCON 1 alert. When two such teens are put in the same class, it’s my lucky job to keep it from coming to blows. (One such crisis averted yesterday … I’ll save the sigh of relief, though.)

Sometimes when two teens don’t get along, you’d never know it to look at them in class. One parent said something about one friend of her child hating another friend in the same class. I never, ever would have guessed, so I guess they’re good at faking it. Whatever’s behind it all, I appreciate the lack of drama.

Some parents will tear down a good kid. No, the kid isn’t perfect, a few things can be improved, but on average, the kind of kid you’d want to have.

Some kids try to tear themselves down, and it’s up to the parents (and me) to talk them off the ledge, convince them there’s nothing wrong with having an A-minus at midterm.

Popularity is a weird thing. So are cliques. I have a good rapport with a lot of kids who are similar to me at that age (so, the shy/quiet, slightly awkward, not-so-confident geeks). I also have a good rapport with a lot of kids who are at the highest echelon of the social system (this includes some geeks of a different kind). I am much more popular as a teacher than I ever was as a student, which kind of warps my brain.

Some of the most awesome kids are those who cross those social boundaries as though oblivious to their existence.

Most parents are on the teacher’s side, because they know the teacher’s on the kid’s side, whether the kid thinks so or not. (At least, that’s how it should be, though of course there are bad teachers out there, just as there are bad parents … as noted above.)

Most teens know what they should and shouldn’t do. They know all the great reasons for such things. That often doesn’t stop them from doing what they shouldn’t or not doing what they should. And they know that, too. Knowledge may be power, but it’s no substitute for willpower and self-control.

One of the saddest things is to realize I have more faith in a student’s capability than their own parent.

One of the greatest things is to see the relief in a parent’s eyes when they realize I share their belief in a struggling student’s potential …

… and it makes me wonder if they had teachers in the past who wrote that student off.

I hope I never get to that point. Even on the days when the student tries their best to convince me they’re a hopeless case.

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Why Casinos Aren’t Publishers

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, it’s another math-centric spiel on probability.

We all know why casinos work and make money, right? It’s because they know the odds are stacked in their favor. They go to great lengths to safeguard against cheating. As a player, some games have better odds than others, but the numbers are what they are. You can’t change them—all you can do is know the parameters, consider your choices within them, and take a chance.

As writers, we talk about trying to increase our odds of getting an agent, getting published, making a bestseller list, etc.

It seems a natural statement, but we can’t do it. There are no odds. Odds assume all things are equal—the dice aren’t loaded, the roulette wheel isn’t rigged. In the writing and publishing world, nothing is equal.

We’re all have different strengths and weaknesses. We’re all at different stages of progression. Some have a story agents/editors want right now; some have a story they might have wanted a year or two ago; some have a story agents/editors won’t want for a year or two (or five) yet.

Seriously, no probabilities or odds out there at all.

I can understand the urge to think of it that way, though. Just like the casino, much of what happens is out of our control. And like the casino, there is some luck involved, if only as far as timing—getting the right agent’s (or editor’s) attention at the right time with the right project.

When things aren’t within our control, we tend to think of them in terms of chance, odds, hoping the cards fall our way.

When we think that way, we may forget things that are within our control. Working hard to continually improve our craft. Looking ahead to the next project (and the next, and the next) when the stars don’t line up for one, rather than staying stuck on that one, never moving forward. Educating ourselves on the industry and our options within it.

There is no magic bullet or shortcut, no counting cards or rigging the machines. We can do everything right and still not “win.”

Because there are no numbers to work. There is only work to be done.

Well, there’s one number out there. If we quit—or never get out there in the first place—our “odds” of success are precisely zero. As long as we avoid that number, we’re on the right track.

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Teachers Making Do, Like It or Not

We’re a few weeks into the school year, and I admit, I’m not entirely teaching as I’d like to.

I’m not teaching badly (I don’t think), but I’m doing things pretty traditionally. The circumstances added up.

I didn’t find out exactly what I was teaching until just before school started.

We don’t have textbooks yet (supposed to finally arrive this week).

My classes average 38 students each.

More importantly, due to the way our math lab classes for struggling students work, the other 9th grade teacher and I need to stay in lock-step with each other. The same sections covered on the same day, the same homework assignments given.

I’m still free to teach the material any way I want to. But there’s no time for that kind of planning. Not with all the grading that has to be done. And not with counselors still letting students transfer from one teacher to the other.

In the end, though, I feel like I’m making excuses. I could spend every hour outside of school developing my own curriculum (or at least modifying the one I’ve been given). But what about writer-me? What about having free time to keep my sanity intact?

Selfishness or self-preservation? Maybe a little of both.

Despite these reservations, I think I’m off to a good start this year. A few things need tweaks and adjustments. The kids are learning, regardless of how I feel about the style of instruction.

I’ll see what I can do moving forward, and if nothing else, make sure I’m ready to tackle next year more thoroughly.

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