Winter Break

You know in Super Mario Bros. 3, in the desert world, there's that one level with the tornado that follows you around? You don't necessarily die if it catches you; you just lose temporary control until you get spit back down into the sand. Is this ringing a bell? My method of passing the level includes running at full-tilt, avoiding any inconvenient question-blocks. Priority number one is staying out of that tornado.

This Friday I finished my first half-year of teaching (not quite half, but we'll count it). If I had to relate my experience so far to any Super Mario Bros. 3 level, I would probably choose the one previously mentioned. I occasionally got pulled into that tornado of paperwork, "what the heck am I going to teach next period," data, e-mails, grading, lesson planning... but each time, I was able to come out of it still sprinting for my life.

I've fallen in love with so many things about teaching. My students are amazing. After looking at the data I've collected this fall, it is clear that as a result of my instruction and their hard work, many have internalized the knowledge and skills we've worked on so far. I feel prepared to hit the ground running when we get back, and I'm excited to see how much my students will grow. My co-workers are passionate, supportive, and fun. It simply wouldn't be the same experience without our lunches together.

A few highlights of first semester:

• The National Junior Honor Society-sponsored Safe Trick or Treating - students came up with all of the ideas, planned, and executed a great night in which they hosted elementary students and their families for a night of candy and games. It was magical the way the students took charge, pulled together, and had a blast. At one point, I saw a few students huddled around a crying child. Before I could make it over to see what was going on, KB (a 7th grader) had grabbed a megaphone and announced in both English and Spanish that there was a missing child over by the bag-toss. It was my first real opportunity to see a lot of my students outside of the math classroom, and in leadership roles. It was a definite transformational moment that popped me right out of the disillusionment stage.
• My Pre-AP class applauding after discovering the Pythagorean Theorem
  
• Anytime that I say "Adios" to my non-english-speaking students and they respond with "Good-Bye"
• Running with the cross country team in the Jingle Bell Run through the streets of downtown Houston - DLC took 5th place in his age-group, and JL2 hilariously took first place in his (due to a registration error that put him in the 70+ age group)
• JS putting me in my place during Pre-AP class when I started teaching cross-multiplying as a method of solving proportions. "But why does it work? Why can we cross multiply?" Awesome. Thankfully, I was able to give him (and the rest of the class) an explanation that met his approval (and promptly confused the heck out of the rest of the class)
• LVV making an snowflake before one of our fieldtrips. It looked cool, but then he folded it back up to reveal that his initial cuts formed the word "MATH." Simply amazing.
  
• ET playing Nirvana in homeroom when I brought my guitar in and then singing along while I played Say It Ain't So by Weezer, one of the two songs I know.
  

As for Winter Break, it feels like I jumped up and grabbed the star at the end the desert level. Now I can sit back, stretch my thumbs, and rub my eyes before starting the next one. I'm looking forward to hanging out with friends and family, eating a lot of food, sleeping in, and basically pretending like I'm unemployed for a little while.

Happy Holidays, Let's Talk Immigration Reform!

After my second trip in as many weeks to the DPS (the Texan version of the DMV), I'm 6-8 weeks away from receiving a Texas drivers license in the mail. I'm not going to run out and buy an Andre Johnson jersey or anything, but it's looking more and more like I'm a real-life resident of the Lone Star State.

Of course the wait at the DPS was terrible, and of course I ended up leaving during the peak of rush hour traffic. So I decided to wait it out at a nearby Barnes and Noble. I bought a book called Relentless Pursuit: A Year in the Trenches with Teach for America, which I had borrowed from Jeff "The Baseball Tourist" Aucoin while we were visiting Memphis over Thanksgiving break. I'm only 70 pages in, but the book describes in honest, accurate, and sometimes brutal detail the experience I've had with Teach for America so far. But we'll save that for another post.

After that, I thumbed through a book that caught my eye by none other than Geraldo Rivera called The Great Progression: How Hispanics Will Lead America to a New Era of Prosperity. The topic was much more interesting than Rivera delivered it, but in addition to claiming that Hispanics won the election for Obama, he mentioned something that I thought was worth repeating here.

In 2007, the average age of the US Population was 36.4 years old. Meanwhile the average age of the Hispanic US Population was 27.4 years old. By now, it shouldn't be much of a surprise that in the immediate future, American demographics will shift drastically. I grew up in a monochromatic pocket of the world where this kind of change was spoken of under furrowed brow. ...but no longer (I am 6-8 weeks away from holding a Texan License, after all).

Texas is a minority-majority state and Houston is a minority-majority city, meaning that less than 50% of their populations are white (non-Hispanic white, that is). The 2000 census showed that Houston's racial make-up was 25% African American and 49% White. In addition, Hispanics and Latinos made up 37% and non-Hispanic whites made up 30% of Houston's population.

I'm more than a little excited about the fact that in my lifetime, America will become a minority-majority country (or more accurately, a country where no one racial or ethnic demographic has the majority). As a member of the future former majority, I'm excited to see how we respond, because how we respond will be part of what defines us as a generation. Will we thrash desperately under the fear that diminishing percentages mean diminishing power and unprecedented oppression? Will we embrace the inevitable diversity, drinking in its richness?

Another interesting factoid I picked up on Wikipedia is that an estimated 400,000 illegal immigrants reside in the Greater Houston area. I also found this cool map.

I understand that as you read that, you may feel a variety of emotions or responses. One reasonable response might be "That's 400,000 people who are enjoying the benefits of my taxes without paying their fair share. Give em the boot!"

Me? I don't really know. I mean, among those 400,000 are some of the kids I teach. Among those 400,000 are their families. It might be naiveté, but after seeing some of the faces of illegal immigration, I want them to find everything in America that I have found: education, employment, acceptance, opportunity...

Bush was supposedly on the verge of an important Immigration bill when September 11th put it on the back-burner. Obama announced in June that he wants to "recognize and legalize" undocumented immigrants, so I'm excited to see what comes next.

Rather than further oversimplifying a complex topic that I know little about, I'll open it up at this point to reader reactions and rebuttals...

On a One Horse Open Sleigh,
-Andy

Divided by Seven

A couple weeks ago, I was having a cup of coffee before school and working out a problem that I was going to give to my students. I found myself doing some long division - dividing by 7, to be exact - when all of a sudden it hit me: that sweet, sweet sensation of uncovering a universal truth.

Since the number I was dividing by 7 wasn't a multiple of 7, my answer wasn't going to be a whole number. So as I added a decimal point and kept dividing, I realized (to the Patty Mayonnaise sound of angels singing) that I could sit in that chair and keep writing all day because the numbers after the decimal were never going to end. Not only that, but it would be true any time I divided by 7 and my answer wasn't a whole number**.

It might seem trivial (or, at the very least, dorky), but in that moment, it was euphoric. I'm sure hundreds of thousands have made the same useless realization before me and have since taken it for granted, much like I take 7th grade knowledge for granted every day. But I've forgotten how exciting and eye-opening those light-bulb moments can be. Though they happen less and less frequently to me, they are happening all around me every day. I need to do a better job of celebrating them.

**Free EiBiT (Everything is Blogger in Texas) Mug*** to the first commenter who provides the proof... c'mon T-CAMS, this is your time to shine

*** these do not exist

------

EDIT: What I originally posted isn't entirely clear. For example, when you divide 0.07 by 7 you get an answer (0.01) that isn't whole, repeating, or irrational, which disproves what I was saying. I'm talking about any situation when you need to start adding zeros after the decimal to complete the long division. (Extra Credit: does it work for any other number?)

Look under your bed... It'll set you free

I've been meaning to get into record albums for a couple years now. Hanging out at Steph and Carson's place in Madison and listening to The Band on their phonograph solidified it for me, but for one reason or another I never made it happen. Until today.

Earlier this week, I stopped at Half-Price Books and wandered over to the section of used records for the first time. I'd always wanted to, but it's an intimidating area. I feel like someone is going to ask me about Emerson Lake and Palmer or turntable construction or something like that. For whatever reason, Pete Yorn's 2003 album "Day I Forgot" was released on vinyl. So of course I bought that. I also threw in a CCR album, "Pendulum," because I recognized the song title "Have You Ever Seen the Rain?"

But it wasn't until today that Craig's List set me up with a great old couple wanting to unload their record player. $50 for fully functional turntable, receiver, and two Fischer speakers. Plus they threw in this device that converts any audio signal into an mp3 you can put on your computer. I don't know a ton about this stuff, but it seemed like a pretty sweet deal.

When the Packer game looked like it was out of hand, I drove a half hour Northwest of Houston and scoped it out. The couple was really nice and we talked about music and life for about a half hour while we set it up and tried it out.

There was a box full of albums next to the player, and when I asked the guy about it, he said they were trying to sell those too. As I was sifting through them, I realized I had to get it. There were 52 albums and they were selling the box for $50. Granted, some of them are crap ("Barbra Streisand's Greatest Hits" or "The Pinnochio Soundtrack") but for the most part, I was impressed.

Some of the albums I had heard before and some I merely recognized from Shawn talking about them or putting them on the Move-In Mixes. Anyway, here's a list of the good ones:

• Simon and Garfunkle's Greatest Hits
• The Beatles 1967-1970
• James Taylor - Sweet Baby James
• James Taylor - One Man Dog
• Blood Sweat and Tears - Greatest Hits
  
• Emerson Lake and Palmer (the one with The Three Fates)
• Emerson Lake and Palmer - Pictures at an Exhibition
• Seals and Croft - Greatest Hits
• Rod Stewert - Every Picture Tells a Story
• Chicago
  
• Elton John - Madman across the water
• Elton John - Tumbleweed Connection
• Elton John's Greatest Hits
  
• Eagles
• Paul Simon
  
• Billy Joel - Glass Houses
• The Beach Boys - Endless Summer
  
• Cat Stevens - Tea for the Tillerman
  
• Three Dog Night - Naturally
  
• Motor City Rollers - Stevie Wonder Songbook

My roommate and I just sat back and listened to Simon and G-Funk's Greatest, and let me tell you: the sound is phenomenal. More as it develops.

The All-Lettuce Diet (Accounting 101)

On Friday I only see half of my classes. Last week, I talked about budgeting with my classes, so this week I gave the same lesson to the rest of my classes. It worked well for a few reasons:

1. Every time I mention money, students for some reason start listening to what I'm saying.
2. Budgeting is an important life-skill that I wish I would have learned and practiced repeatedly in school, and my students especially need to hear it.
   
3. We've been talking about unit rates, and there are countless applications in budgeting. If rent is $800 for 1 month (unit rate), multiply by 12 months in a year to find what we'll pay annually.
4. I didn't have to prepare much at all. Booyah.
   

We started by looking at a chart of different income averages based on educational level. Next, we used the chart to figure out how much money you would earn in 50 years depending on your education. I made sure students noticed the positive correlation between education level and income level.

But during the first class, a student commented, "So I could drop out right now and make $15,000?" which led to a good discussion about averages, since he probably wouldn't make that much right away, even if he was able to find a job as a 12-year-old.

...but yeah, you're right, you could drop out right now and over the course of your life you could earn about $15,000 each year, on average. You could earn more if you work hard, and earn less if you don't, but this is the average. That's a lot of money, right?

A few nods and "yeah"s. A hand in the air: "Well it's not a lot if you're old."

Did you just call me old? ...what do you mean, does the value of money change when you get older?

"There's more things you have to pay for. Bills and stuff."

Ahh, I guess you're right. With your groups, let's come up with a list of things you'd need to spend your hard-earned $15,000 on in order to survive.

There is no better feeling than walking around a room full of kids that are all falling into my trap of learning what I want them to learn, meanwhile they're all under the impression that they're the ones who came up with the idea.

I asked for a student to come up to the board and keep a list of everything we came up with, while students took turns sharing their ideas. "Shelter." "Food." "Water." "Light Bills." "Car." "Clothes."

Hmm, do you need clothes or do you want clothes?

"Need!" "Want!" "Both!"

What do you mean 'both'?

"Well, like, I need clothes, but I WANT cool clothes."

Ah, ok. Well, let's make another list of some of the things we want to spend our money on.

And so it went for a while. We came up with two nice lists. The Pre-AP class even added "charity" to their "Want" list. I got to drive home the point that we'll need to pay for all of the things on our "Need" list before we can think about looking at the "Want" list.

Another of my favorite moments in every class was when we got to discuss the big item missing from the "Need" list: taxes.

How much of your $15,000 do you think will go to taxes to pay for schools, roads, police, firefighters, and so on?

"$150?" More. "$200?" More. "$500!?" More. Alarmed looks: "$1000?"

It will probably be at least $2500 each year for taxes. It's not all that hard to do, but I love blowing their minds.

So we started our budget by listing the income, subtracting taxes and looking at our Net Income.

We worked out how to use unit rate to calculate yearly rent as a class, if we know how much we'll pay each month. I gave the students a few different choices for rent, depending on how nice of an apartment they want. After we subtracted rent from our net income, the amount left over was already looking tragically small.

Next, students worked in groups to come up with an annual food budget. Some students arbitrarily chose an amount for each month, while other students tried to figure out how much each meal would cost each day. In my Pre-AP class, one group was using $100 per month. I asked them what they would eat each day. When a few of the girls started listing off some meal ideas and recognizing that $100 wouldn't cut it, I asked another student what he would eat each day. "Lettuce."

Once they had an annual amount for food, students subtracted it from what they had left, and most had already run out of money.

Well we still haven't paid for the other things we need. What can we change? Can we get rid of the food? "No." Can we get rid of our apartment? "No." Can we just stop paying taxes? "No."

So what can we change?

"Income?"

What is something we could do to help change our income?

"More education."

In the Pre-AP class, students were asking a lot of questions about the different degrees listed on the chart. They asked about different professions and what kind of education they required. At the end of class we had time to summarize.

What are a couple things we can take away from this activity? Something you learned or something that surprised you.

"It's important so we can make sure we pay for the things we need so we can still do some of the things we want."

"We can appreciate what our parents do more and not get upset if they can't always give us everything we want."

Piano Teach For America

Today between my 6th and 7th period classes, while I was standing at the door waiting for my Pre-AP class to pile in, an 8th grader approached my room and was saying my name. Non-7th-graders knowing my name isn't incredibly uncommon, but it does still freak me out a little.

As far as I've been able to tell, somewhere in the distance between 7th and 8th grade the shoulders get broader, the voice gets deeper and quieter, the movements get somehow even slower, and the personalities get a little more defined/less ridiculous.

"Mr. Camann?"

Yeah.

"Can you give me piano lessons?"

What? Do you play piano?

"Yeah... a little."

You mean you play in music class? Or what do you play?

"Well, mostly classical. It helps me relax."

Hmm, nice. Do you have a piano at home?

"Yeah. Well... a keyboard. Sometimes I stay after school and play the piano in the library."

I shooed him off to class, but not before we decided to meet for a little while after school on Thursdays. After dismissal, I was cutting through the office to get back to my classroom to plan when I happened to glance through the window into the library. There he was, playing the piano.

I stopped in and asked him to keep playing whatever he had been playing. For Elise. Rough, but right away I could tell he had a great ear. Then he pulled some Japanese sheet music from some video game out of his backpack and described the way he had been trying to learn it. He had the right hand pretty solid, but the left hand rhythm was tricky enough on it's own, let alone putting the two together.

After watching him play and talking to him for a couple minutes, I could tell pretty much where he was at. But I spent a little time breaking down the rhythm of the left-hand in order to get a better idea of what kind of music theory knowledge he had. I found a scrap of paper and diagrammed a measure by splitting it into 16ths. Then we plotted when the notes hit and tried clapping the rhythm while counting.

I hesitated. I was beginning to get that little knot of guilt. Here was a kid who likes relaxing by playing some music. He has his own little method of discovery that has been working for him, but obviously has a ceiling. I instantly had ideas of how to guide him through that ceiling... but at what cost? In 5 minutes, I had reduced his relaxation tool to an exercise in clapping.

He must have sensed my hesitation because he nodded at the scrap of paper:

"This is going to make it so much easier."

Sweet. I began piecing together some of the next steps in my mind. I will find some music that is still challenging but that he'll be able to play through with both hands. We'll work on reading music using familiar songs at first because his ear seems pretty developed. Reading rhythms, dynamics, pedal control... eventually the finer parts of music theory and then I'll open up the world of songwriting. Booyah. I felt my mind racing, so I chuckled and asked him.

So, what do you want to learn?

"Everything you can teach me."

Good answer.

Sub + Space Cadet = C-Squared

About time for an update, don't you think? I can't believe that I've been teaching for over eight weeks. Even stranger is the fact that I can't tell if that feels far too long or far too short.

Another Lanyard

Last Thursday I attended the Texas Association of Bilingual Education conference (TABE) at the Westin in the Galleria Mall here in Houston. The glitz of the mall is in ridiculously stark contrast to my school. The conference was actually pretty sweet - I was able to check out a couple sessions about math education, plus I got a ton of free stuff from the booths in the expo. I could have gone without the constant, light Central-American elevator music that was piped throughout the Westin, but oh well. Que sera, sera.

Being out of the classroom was an experience of total physical, emotional, and mental relaxation. I found myself in a room full of people that I wasn't legally responsible for. I was not speaking and not standing the entire day. At one point, a hotel worker came in during a session and tried getting the speaker's attention about something. It took a second, but then I realized I didn't have to respond or react or even realize what was happening, so I just leaned back and looked at the pictures in a brochure about a software package that my school would not be able to afford. Bliss.

Substitution Cypher

Prologue to the blissful day off: the frenzy of preparing to miss school.

A multitude of things have surprised me about teaching. Case in point, the art of substitute teaching. First of all, substitutes are saints - make no mistake. But substitute teachers should not be teaching new material to students. I never noticed this when I was growing up, and I don't know why it surprised me so much. They may know nothing about math. They probably know nothing about what my kids know about math or should know about math. Since I know nothing about the person coming into my room and will likely never see him or her again, I can't make any assumptions.

How can I boil down my school, my students, class schedule, lunch procedures, dismissal procedures, restroom procedures, nurse forms, and on and on... into a document that any person can pick up blind and survive a day in my classroom? What can I plan that my students will (1) take seriously or care about at all, (2) know how to do, (3) not cheat on, and (4) be able to finish more or less in 55 minutes with no direction, and (5) maybe actually benefit from?

Missing a day of instruction is equivalent to forfeiting a baseball game. Sure there are 162, but when the season could be decided by one, and when momentum plays such a big role, every inning is magnified. Cheesy baseball analogy over.

It was a little nerve-wracking to leave my students in the hands of someone else, but it turns out that everyone survived.

One day, I hope this happens.

Give him the stick, DON'T GIVE HIM THE STICK

The range and intensity of emotions that I go through during a given day surprises me, but (i think) I'm pretty good at staying at an even keel externally. It isn't uncommon to momentarily feel like the best teacher in the world and the worst teacher in the world during the same day (or even the same class.) Though both are far from true, I think that's just one of the perks of teaching. So now we can add "complete emotional instability" to "free post-its" and "10% off at Borders."

I promise to share more specific examples of hilarious emotional outliers, but for now, one student that never ceases to provide both is JL. He is the squirreliest kid in the world. I vividly remember my mental reaction when I first encountered him during my first day. "For real? This is a real human being? How am I going to do this?" I wish I had the words to describe, but the English language can't contain him. JL is interesting and ultimately lovable because he's never trying to be a complete space-cadet - he just is. He doesn't concern himself with what other kids or teachers think about him because he's too busy inadvertently being the biggest spazz in Houston. And that's at least a little admirable, isn't it?

Other teachers have wondered aloud what movies are currently playing in JL's mind. One teacher even assigned another student to be the JL-Manager for the day. That is, to sit close to him and poke him every several seconds whenever he got off task. Apparently this JL-Manager type of thing is frowned on in the teaching business, but knowing the kid, I can see completely where the teacher was coming from.

JL is always doing one of 7 things:

1. a strange arm stretch that involves spastically flapping his arms behind his head
2. searching frantically in his backpack for a pencil or a phantom homework assignment or some other unidentified object
3. holding a piece of paper, pencil, or object mere centimeters away from his thick glasses, presumably trying to make sense of it
4. absentmindedly spinning or flinging his pencil, eraser, or papers on his desk until they ultimately land somewhere other than on his desk
5. leaning on his chair in a way that I previously thought was physically impossible. I'm talking up on one chair leg, with both knees on the seat... He's like a 12-year-old Cirque du Soleil.
6. putting objects (pencils, id badge, etc) in or around his mouth
7. asking "we had homework in this class?" "am I in trouble for not having my homework?" or any question on a completely different wavelength than the current topic
   

Discovering Pythagoras

Today I had the best moment of the year during my Pre-AP class. It was at a perfectly quick pace (just barely beyond the comfort of previous understanding), it was mostly student-guided, and the few words I spoke met their mark perfectly.

Students worked through a packet that I stole from the 8th grade math teacher, who stole it from some other teacher. The packet guides students toward discovering the Pythagorean Theorem. By the bottom of the second page, students come up with "a squared plus b squared equals c squared" on their own, without yet realizing it's significance.

I basically stayed out of their way, except to give them the amazing push of time constraints ("work with your group on questions 9 and 10. I'm setting the stop-watch at 3 minutes. go."), and to come back together occasionally and summarize and synthesize their progress ("so if you're telling me this square has an area of 25 units, what would we have to do to find out the length of one of its sides?").

It was challenging, but not so much that students shut off. The lesson progressed beautifully and I think the students could feel the excitement culminating. At one point I even said, "I don't know if you guys can tell, but I'm loving this." Right when I had them on the hook, based solely on truths that they had discovered, I pointed to the equation that they came up with and unveiled it as "Pythagorean's Theorem."

"So you've shown me that whenever we have a right triangle, we know that the square of the two legs adds up to the square of the hypotenuse... This is what Pythagoras discovered twenty-five hundred years ago, and you discovered it in 40 minutes today. This is a big moment. You opened a door today that you will be able to use for the rest of your lives. And once you see the things we can do with it, it's going to blow your mind."

There must have been an urgency in my voice because the students were beaming and burst into a round of applause. It couldn't have been scripted any better, and it all came together organically, almost magically. As challenging as teaching has been, these little rewards are amazing.

Open Mic Requests

This Thursday from 7-11, my favorite coffee shop, Coffee Groundz, is hosing an open mic competition. Winner receives a gift card... and I want it.

The really cool thing about this place is that they will broadcast the open mic live online.

I've decided that I haven't played much music lately, and the best way to force myself to play is to tumble headfirst into a performance.

If you're in the greater Houston area, come on Thursday, enjoy the drink specials, and cheer me towards that gift card. If you're not in the area, check it out online.

Either way, if you're reading this and have a song in mind that you'd like to hear, leave a request in the comments and I'll try to make it happen.

Some options that I'd probably be able to dust off by Thursday include: New Kind of Magic, Forgetful, Monsters in My Head, Dirt and Water, or No Better Time to Go

Andy Camann - Significance

Andy Camann - Significance
He turns, there's something wrong, he
Forgot to lock the door.
That's all, it took him twenty
Seconds, nothing more.
All day he's fifty feet behind where he'd be otherwise
But now he'll cross her path and she'll finally catch his eyes.

It's simultaneously the least significant
And most significant occurrence
In the history of the universe.

Black ice, she crosses over
Double yellow lines.
Her life, in bits and pieces
Rushes through her mind,
Like some guy she knew in college seven years ago.
She braces for an impact that he will never know.

It's simultaneously the least significant
And most significant occurrence
In the history of the universe.

New calm, washes over,
Laying back his head.
New dawn, rises over
A land of doubt and dread.
As he realizes that every moment, every day
Every last decision that he has ever made

Is simultaneously the least significant
And most significant occurrence
In the history of the universe.

Eat Fractions, Sleep Fractions, Drink Coca Cola

I'm currently sitting in class while my students are taking their Unit 2 Test on Fraction and Decimal Operations. I can tell that my students would be fine if they never saw another fraction for the rest of their lives, and I can't entirely blame them. Lucky for all of us, we'll get a temporary change of pace with integer operations and exponents in the next few weeks.

Let's revisit the Great Lumber Problem we looked at last week. Since we were looking for 2/3 of 4 1/4, we'd find the answer by multiplying 2/3 x 4 1/4, which is 2 5/6 feet of lumber (or 2 feet and 10 inches - or as Adam put it, 34 inches).

While working on the problem in class, I was surprised by some of the reactions and strategies. I wasn't surprised by the universal instinct to divide. We're cutting the piece of wood, so everyone wanted to subtract or divide. Nobody thought to multiply. This whole idea of the word "of" meaning "multiplying" - even if you're trying to get a smaller number - is an initially strange one, and I distinctly remember the light bulb clicking on sometime in middle school and changing my life forever. It's one of those 7th grade moments that NEEDS to happen, just like the awkward encounters at the dance or the debilitating bouts of acne.

No one knew what lumber was. No one. One student made an attempt, "I drew a piece of string. It's like a piece of string, right?" Wrong. Another was closer, "It's like a big piece of metal." Nope.

Once I opened their eyes to the world of lumber, they thought I was some kind of wooden god. I drew a piece of wood and referred to it as a "2 by 4" and they stopped me. "I thought it was 4 1/4 feet long?" My students might not be picking up on the math, but darned if they don't know a thing or two about lumber now.

"Jeez Mister, how come you know so much about wood?"

A Lumber Expert's Word Problem Expedition

As a result of pulling my head slightly above water and of many discussions with the 8th grade math teacher at my school, I've decided to adjust the way I teach my math class. She is a 2008 TFA member who successfully taught two full grades in her first year of teaching and is the department chair in her second. She is encouraging and understanding, but relentless and unwilling to compromise expectations. In short, she's a very good teacher.

So far this year I've been fighting to reteach skills that my students have been building for the last several years. Adding and subtracting decimals, converting fractions, comparing positive and negative integers, and on and on... I've slightly empowered some who had already mastered these things, slightly improved some who hadn't, and slightly annoyed the rest. The never-ending battle with differentiation.

But where was I? Oh yes, new direction. The knowledge and skills that my students must leave 7th grade with haven't changed, but I am now going to approach them through the mysterious and dangerous jungle of word problems. I still need to spend plenty of time teaching how to do things like dividing decimals, but I am going to start spending much more time teaching recognition of when and why to do what.

My students DO NOT know how to solve problems. The extent of their problem solving skills are to pull each number out of the problem and then choose an operation at random - like spinning some sort of Wheel of Arithmetic. Here are three reasons why I think this is important:

1. Being unable to think critically about two sentences sets a dangerous precedent for thinking critically about any number of scenarios that my students may be faced with in the future, academically or otherwise.
2. Seeing these skills used in as many contexts as possible will give the most students the greatest chance of internalizing the big mathematical picture. Being able to visualize these numbers and operations is something I take for granted. But a 7th grader has a hard time seeing that a 20% tip is the same as 1/5 of the bill, which is the same as $0.20 for every $1. Once they can visualize it and connect it to the real world, they're golden.
   
3. For better or worse, the one measuring stick that anyone in Texas can easily use to judge these children is by standardized test scores. The TAKS (Texas Assessment of Knowledge and Skills) Test is full of word problems, so knowing how to convert or subtract simply isn't useful unless you know when to. These test scores determine which students get put in which classes, which students pass, which teachers get stipends, which schools get money, and on and on. An imperfect situation? Of course. But it is what it is.
   

I feel a little sheepish for just now landing on these obvious and basic conclusions, but hey - better late then never, right?

On Friday, each student entered my classroom and followed a protocol that will occur at least 3 times a week from now until the end of the year. They each took a half-sheet of paper from the back table and spent 5 minutes beginning the word problem that you will see below while I took attendance. Then we spent 10-15 minutes discussing the problem, where they got stuck, the different strategies they used, and why some did or didn't work.

We've been learning how to multiply, divide, add, and subtract fractions, so my students would all know how to solve this problem once they decided what to do, but no one did.

A piece of lumber is 4 1/4 feet long. If you need a piece of lumber that is 2/3 this size, how long of a piece do you need?

In addition to the above problem, each half-sheet contained a problem solving grid that I adopted with spaces for:

• Question - What are you looking for?
• Data - What do you know?
• Devise a Plan - How will you know you're right?
  
• Answer - Show your work
• Write a complete sentence
• Expression - How did you get there?

On Monday, I'll share the answer and some humorous results of our class discussions. But take a stab at it... are you smarter than a 7th grader?

Sencerly

I just found a few letters that some of my summer school students wrote at the end of this summer.

--------------

July 9, 2009

Dear Mr. Camann

Thank you for being a great MATH Teacher. I learned a lot. Even stuff I didn't understand. What I liked about this class is that you put the math problems different. You showed the whole class different ways to solve a problem.

What would make this class better is if you make it really fun. Nothing else needs to change.

Class helped me by being a better person. In regular school I talked a lot & kinda didn't do my work. But, now that I'm in Summer School, I talk but I do my work. I had good grades in regular school, but then I started flunking. But now I am trying to do my best in Summer School.

Good luck in another school. Good Bye!?

Sincerly,
GR :)

------------

Dear, All My Summer School Teachers

It was fun spending my summer with yall. Thanks for teaching us. I know some teachers were kinda boring but I still had fun with all of yall. I wish for yall to stay but I know yall have to go. Well theres kids out there who are waiting for these new teachers. I hope they like yall. Well I know I will never forget the teacher who help me reach one goal of mine. Class for me was boring but still fun. Well yall were great for teaching me. Well good luck with your next students and hope yall have a great time of yall lifes. :)

Sencerly
NV

P.S. I KNOW I AM THE BEST! :P

-----------------

Dear, Mr. Camann

Your class is awesome. I liked everything you teached. Your class really helped me alot with everything. Thanks for everything. Your awesome

Sincerly,
YT

--------------

EO July 9, 09

To: Me, Myself & I

Well I think I learned more science this summer rather than the whole school year! Math was pretty much easy but that really stupid i failed only by 1 question but I guess! I really hope I pass & I know I did because I know am smart I just like playing around in class especially when is very boring! Reading is boring but not the class ok! Social studies thats a fun learning there I actually really learned something there but what sucks about me is that sometimes I forget stuff that I learned & then I have to think hard to get it back but oh well at lease is worth it!

Cucaracha Count: 1

As students were lining up at the door near the end of first period, I heard "Meester, meeester - cockroach." There, perched proudly on the top of one of the desks, was a huge cockroach, antennae waving.

As if they we concerned, I told the students I'd handle it and filed them out of the room so they wouldn't be late. By the time I turned around, my tiny nemesis was gone.

All of second period passed without another sighting, but once I was alone in the room for my planning period, there he was again - somehow even larger. I realized I probably did have to do something about it, but wasn't quite sure what. I contemplated pounding the little bastard into the carpet with my shoe, but wasn't really psyched about any part of that situation.

I grabbed a pencil cup and notepad from my desk. After a brief period of mumbling to myself and chasing the cockroach around the room, I was finally able to trap it between the cup and notepad. I rushed outside and flung it into the grass. I spent the rest of my planning period randomly shivering as I recounted the grossness of it all.

I should probably figure out a better plan of attack for next time - any requests?

Cucaracha Count: 1
Method of Destruction: none, possible heat stroke outside of trailer 511.

Pre-AP Non-Sequiter

"So, when we're trying to add fractions and we run into a mixed number or a whole number, let's make it easier on ourselves by rewriting those numbers as improper fractions. Any number divided by 1 is the same, and since fractions show division, we can write any whole number as a fraction with 1 in the denominator. For example, we can rewrite the number 6 as 6/1. It's a little different for mixed numbers. Take a look at 5 1/3. We've got 5 whole pizzas, and one piece left over. If each pizza is cut into thirds, how many pieces do we have total? Right, 16. All we're doing is multiplying the whole number by the denominator and then adding the numerator. There's our new numerator. But the pieces are still the same size so the denominator stays the same... Yes, MG - do you have a question?"

"Mister, are you from Irish descent?"

5:00 - 7:40 AM

The alarm springs to life at 5, and I frantically jump out of bed, confused, disoriented, or maybe just plain annoyed. What day is it? What state am I in? Didn't I just go to sleep a couple hours ago? Why do I have a strange feeling that I should be reprimanding a teenager right now? Slam the snooze and back to bed until my cell phone alarm finishes the job a few minutes later. After a long, absentminded shower, I pour myself some Cocoa Pebbles, which I enjoy thoroughly as I check my e-mail, update my fantasy teams, and frantically finish planning for the day.

I throw a sandwich, an apple, and some yogurt in my lunch bag and hit the streets at 6:05. There's something sublime about driving with the windows down at such a comfortably dim hour, aside 10 to 15 cars on the same highway that will be gridlocked in an hour. Air that is unconditioned yet comfortable is hard to come by these days, and 6 AM is about the only shot you'll get. No NPR today; just me and the dawn. I fly over the “road humps” (apparently the Texan equivalent of speed bumps) on Skyline, roll into the empty parking lot, and take a deep breath. Today is a new day - Go Cougars.

After signing in at the front office, I head through the pristine hallways and out the back door toward the middle school trailers. It looks like the custodial staff hasn't come around to unlock the doors yet, because the back door is propped open by a yellow “Wet Floor” sign. Ahh good, this means my early-morning partner in crime has already arrived - the 6^th grade reading and writing teacher in the classroom next to mine. I pop into her room and see that she's about as awake as I am. Still, from her desk she smiles and musters a cheery “good morning!” We talk about Jerry Spinelli for a while as I grab my first cup of coffee from the pot behind her desk.

I unlock the door of room T-511 and head immediately to the thermostat to set the air conditioner at a cool 77. While I wait for my computer to load, I erase yesterday’s homework and objectives on the whiteboard and update them with today's information. “Multiplying Decimals” for periods 1 through 6 and “Unit 1 Test” in big block letters for period 7, my Pre-AP class.

On Monday, I had stolen 3 worksheets that the 8^th grade math teacher used last year with the 7^th graders as homework for adding and subtracting, dividing, and multiplying decimals. That morning I had submitted requests to the copy staff for copies of all 3 along with the Pre-AP test I was giving today. So this morning, I’m spared a trip to the copy room to frantically make copies myself. It only took 3 weeks to get a half day ahead!

First things first, I print off the lesson plans that I finalized the night before and put them in the binder on my desk. Next, I turn on my LCD projector and start putting together a PowerPoint about multiplying decimals. I breathe another sigh of relief as I remember that my Pre-AP class will only be taking a test today. So far my sweetest revelation has been how amazing test or quiz days are, and let me give you three reasons. One – tests gently remind my students of the fact that there is a day of reckoning for any unfinished homework, off-task behavior, or unasked questions. Two – I’m excited to see, after all the work that the students and I have done, how well they can succeed in putting their knowledge to paper. Three - and I can't stress this enough - I get to sit down in a silent room and not say a word.

I finish my PowerPoint and my coffee so I head next door for a refill. Back in my room, I enter some of the addition and subtraction worksheets that my students graded in class yesterday into GradeSpeed, the online grading system that my district uses. The first bell rings. 7:30. By now the students are being herded from the cafeteria to the multi-purpose room, it’s current purpose being to hold several hundred 5 to 15 year olds.

I head back to my desk and read through some of the e-mails that I didn’t get a chance to look at yesterday. I check my calendar one last time to make sure that I’m not, in fact, supposed to be at some professional development training all day or something. I maximize the GradeSpeed window and set it to the attendance page for my first period class, so I’ll be ready to submit their attendance during class.

I sit back in my chair and survey the room for a second. Mr. Camann’s math room, who would have ever thought?

The second bell rings and I head toward the door to greet my students. In the next minute, the serenity of the morning will be broken by prepubescent feet pounding up the metal ramps leading to our rooms. My first class will file past me, intent on doing anything but the simple directions my fresh PowerPoint proudly displays on the SmartBoard. By now my coffee has cooled, but I pound the rest as I reach the door. It's go time.

Shalom

I realize that making 2 posts in a 24-hour span has the chance of knocking the planet off it's orbit, but I decided to chance it to share a quick glimpse into part of my day.

I had a new student come in partway through my second period today. I found him a seat and stumbled back into my lesson. When the class began practicing comparing fractions or whatever we were talking about today, I went over and tried introducing myself and asking his name. He wrote it down for me so I could enter it into my attendance. He was brought into a class of 12 that has a strong contingent of LEP (Limited English Proficiency) students - so I thought he might be in the same boat. I asked him if he spoke English, which he most certainly does not. Then I asked him if he spoke Spanish, and that turned out to be a no as well.

When I found out that my newest student only speaks Arabic, I didn't know what to say to him. I came up with something that I'm sure would have been comforting had he been able to understand it, but instead he looked at me helplessly and I returned to my patrol of the class.

What do you do in this situation? I shot a quick e-mail to the assistance principal to see about switching this student into my 4th period class, which has a student who speaks Arabic and a decent amount of English. I hope this happens... because otherwise, what do you do?

In Spanish, I could convey some meaning if I absolutely had to. I had another new LEP student today that I was able to help with comparing positive and negative integers by pointing at numbers and asking "menor o mejor?" The Spanish-English barrier is one thing - there are other students in the room who speak both languages... but what about Arabic?

I found out after school that some of the other teachers had used an online Arabic-English translator with him to type out some instructions or find out some more about him - BRILLIANT! That's just veteran teachership, I tell ya.

I've only known this kid for half of a day, so I don't know anything about him or where his math strengths are, but I can't help but feel for him. Of course my initial response was to worry about myself and how I would be able to teach him anything this year - but when I got home, all I could think about was what it would be like to get plopped into a room where no one else understands me and I can't understand anyone else... including the goofy dude with the beard and the tie waving his hands at the number line up in front.

Thoughts on the First Week of Teaching

My first week of teaching 7th grade math was the start of a whirlwind that doesn't look to stop until Christmas - but I'm going to try to boil my first week observations down to a bulleted list so you can all know that I'm still alive and so that I can then finish grading last night's homework.

1. My feet hurt - the one thing that totally took me by surprise during the first week was the physical strain of pacing around a classroom for 6 straight hours, tense with the knowledge of constantly being seconds away from chaos. After the first day of school last Monday, I came home and took what I'm sure will go down as the single greatest nap in the history of the Universe. It was an hour long and it was a full experience of the body, soul, and mind.
   
2. In one door and out the other - there is a strange intensity that I've felt in the first week of teaching. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that when one class is leaving the room, the next one starts filing in. There is no breathing room, which is fine - it's just taking some getting used to. If I'm not ready for the entire day when the sun rises, there's no chance to catch up. As each class runs into the next, the days kind of feel the same way. I'm hoping Labor Day weekend will allow me to get a day ahead of the game... but let's be honest, it will probably just allow me to get a day's worth of barbequing.
   
3. Kids are hilarious - the ones who are intentionally trying to be funny are pretty darn funny, but I get waaaaay more of a kick out of the obvious suck-ups and the ones who think they are way more hardcore than they actually are. It took all my energy to stay stern during the lunch detention I gave today, because all I wanted to do was laugh and tell this kid, "You're smart and you think you're being tough, but you're really just a kid and I can see right through your bratiness."
   
4. No Se - I guess I'd always known that when families move from Mexico or Latin America or the Middle East or South America and take up residence in... say, Houston TX - there's a chance that their children haven't ever encountered much English before. But I didn't even begin to realize the significance of the difficulties these students face until I found myself teaching a roomfull of students and noticing the blank smiles of the 5 or so who know very little English beyond "I don't speak English." And the swears, of course. By the end of the week, we got into a little groove where I was able to group these students with other kids who have a firm grasp on both English and Spanish... but truly providing these kids with the education they need (or even determining what that looks like), will be a huge undertaking this year.
   
5. Perpetually Planning - Jen "J-Dubs" Wells once told me that she could spend every waking minute planning and preparing, but there still would be more that she could do for her students. Like most of the teachery things she's said, it went way over my head at the time, but also like many of the teacher things she's said, it was right on the money. I think my biggest battle with teaching will be finding that balance. I've already come to terms with the fact that I will enter every class with an imperfect lesson (a tough but necessary pill to swallow), but I'll need to keep pushing myself to be as efficient and balanced as I can without lowering the bar for myself or my students.
6. Grading takes forever - holy crap! As a math guy, I thought I'd crunch some numbers. So my 85-or-so students took their beginning of the year diagnostic test to see what math skills they're coming in with. If I only took 2 minutes to grade each one and track each student's score, we're looking at 3 hours of grading... and 2 minutes is not very realistic. I can't imagine being a writing teacher!
   
7. Great Success! - there have been a few choice moments when a lesson or activity that I've put together has totally hit the mark. (There have been may other moments, but let's stay positive today). And there is NO BETTER FEELING IN THE WORLD than looking around at a room of students that are excited, hard at work, and learning. I hope to make it happen more often than 15 seconds or so each day...

I hope hasn't sounded dreary or whiney, because my experience has been great so far. I've shaken my head at the cliche that always gets dropped - that "teaching/TFA is the most challenging and rewarding thing I've ever done..." but I can't think of a better way to describe it. It's been exhausting in ways that I haven't known before... but there is great joy in there somewhere.

-Mr. Camann

I am the Fourth Jonas

My world is a different place than it was the last time I BLAWGED. So we've got some catching up to do...

Teaching at Institute
Institute is the intimidating name that TFA gives to the summer training program for first year Corps Members like myself. From June 13th to July 10th, I taught 7th grade math at FM Black.

I knew I had wanted to introduce myself a little on the first day, but the night before, I decided I'd share how I felt about math. I told students that I liked math for two reasons:

• Math is everywhere. Math is shapes, math is patterns, math is money, math is baseball - math is everywhere. The better you can understand it and speak it, the more prepared you will be for everything surrounding you.
• If there's a problem, then there's an answer... and we will find it. Everyone can see when there's a problem in front of them. Plenty of people can even recognize that there's probably an answer somewhere. But it takes a lot to get the tools you need, to power through the frustrations, and to find that answer.
  

I made a big deal about the second one and it ended up becoming the mantra for our class this summer. I'm thinking of having shirts made.

Meester Cannon
About a week and a half into teaching, one of my students called me over during lunch duty, "Meester Cannon, Meester Cannon."

I left my post as a stone-faced, arms-folded cafeteria-pacer and wandered over to her table. "What's going on?"

She alternated between looking up at me and down at the floor. "I just wanted to tell you that I have four role models in my life and you're one of them."

I'm sure the shock on my face was apparent. For a second I thought this was an oh-so-effective attempt at brown-nosing, but for some reason I could tell it was genuine - she really appreciated having me as a teacher. I didn't really know how to respond. "Well, thank you. I've loved having you in class so far."

She kept going with the kind of honesty I didn't expect from a middle schooler, "I like how you always tell us to never give up even if we get frustrated." I was even more taken aback. I hadn't realized the power in the things that stumble out of my mouth during class.

I complimented her for her participation in class and thanked her again for sharing this with me. Then I let my curiosity get the better of me, "So, who are your other three role models?"

Her eyes lit up as she listed them off, "Well, the Jonas Brothers are one, of course. And Miley Cyrus..." I didn't even catch the last one as I chuckled inside. I don't really know what I was expecting. Anyway, in a middle schooler's mind, that's a list I'm glad to be on.

Over as Quickly as it Began
Institute was a blur. It came out of nowhere, wasn't like anything I've been through before, and then was gone in a flash. All of the other Corps Members I met were passionate and talented, and it amazes me how quickly strangers can become life-long friends in such a pressure cooker.

Looking back, I had a really great experience during my first summer of teaching - which isn't to say that there weren't moments each day when I wondered what the H I was doing. My students learned a lot and so did I. I picked up a few things that worked and plenty that didn't. I can't wait to get into my 7th grade math classroom at Pilgrim Academy where I've been hired for this fall. For now, I'm enjoying all the planning that comes with a sense of possibility for what this year could bring.

You can love something that frustrates you

Last Monday was my first day of teaching 7th grade math. My class is from 8-9:30 right at the beginning of the day. I had 17 students on my roster and I was trying not to think about how intimidated I felt.

The first day was an overwhelming whirlwind. As I stood at my door with one hand stretched out to shake hands and and one hand white-knuckling my clipboard and seating chart, I welcomed each student with a "good morning," hoping they wouldn't recognize me for the pushover that I am. (Luckily, 7th graders are smaller than I imagined - so I've got size. Add that to beard and bachelors degree and I had all the confidence I needed.) Honestly, I didn't know how I was going to respond to being in front of a room of people looking at me to give them direction and instruction and encouragement and consequence and assessment. But I just kind of started talking, sticking to my plan, and rolling with it. It even felt a little out-of-body. Man, it was weird.

The first day was filled with just enough moments for me to constantly replay in my mind, rendering me useless during my sessions for the rest of the day (sweet fake names to follow):

• Several students wandered in late and I awkwardly did not respond whatsoever
• After explaining that I've been frustrated by math at times before, Marki-Mark - the self-proclaimed "bad girl" shouted, "I thought you said you loved math." "I do. You can love something that frustrates you."
• Richard Marx asked me "can I take a 5 minute nap" right after I described my class expectation to be focused. "No."
• The air conditioner spontaneously flooded out onto Immanuel's desk during the start-of-the-summer diagnostic.

After I walked out of class, I felt like I was getting off a rollercoaster. I had a faint idea of what had just happened, was a little sick to my stomach, and instantly had to start preparing to get in line again.

(Since day one, I've actually been teaching math content, and I've gotten to know my kids. So do not fear, it has been absolutely amazing. More stories to come...)

Middle School

I walked through the halls of a middle school today for the first time since I had braces and was (even more) awkward. In addition to the urinals seeming smaller, the pending differences between my experiences at Shattuck Middle School in Neenah, WI and my upcoming experiences at F.M. Black Middle School in Houston, TX were not lost on me.

Summer school started last week for the students of "Black," and 48 of us will be responsible for their instruction starting next Monday and running until mid-July. This week will consist of an information frenzy, during which my fellow corps members and I will learn about the ins and outs of lesson planning, content material, literacy, and the benefits of air conditioning (a watermain burst today, which left the school without A/C in the afternoon).

As I passed by summer school classrooms between sessions today, there were a couple moments when I locked eyes with a student inside. Maybe I've already seen some of the students that I will be teaching this summer. Some may need a push from me in order to recognize their own ability to do what it takes to move on to the next grade. Some may challenge me in ways that I can't imagine or prepare for. Some moments may make me want to laugh out loud, while others may make me want to sob like Dave Groshek. Maybe 19 instructional days will feel like an eternity, or maybe they will seem tragically inadequate. My only hope is that I will provide each student with the opportunity and desire to reach the ambitious goals I will set for him or her.

I'm meeting some amazing people down here and making the kinds of connections that are only possible in such a high-intensity, high-stress, high-humidity environment. I'm surrounded by passionate and motivated leaders, which is two parts inspiring and one part overwhelming. The Type-A meter is through the roof. Still, I've enjoyed conversations about sports, math, music, faith, and future with people from LA, Philly, Michigan, Houston, Kansas City, New York, Georgia, and even Madison, WI itself - sooooo relieving to find a Brewer fan. It's hard to believe it's only been 4 days, but it's still just as hard to believe that I'm not on some kind of extended vacation.

After a weekend in a posh hotel with all the Houston corps members for "Induction", we moved onto the University of Houston campus yesterday to join the future teachers of the Rio Grande Valley, Mississippi Delta, Dallas, and Hawaii for "Institute." We're set up in the Moody Towers - the kind of dorm whose drab walls, water stains, and bouches (a strange bed/couch hybrid) seem quaint and full of possibility when you first move in - but will be left in a month with no hesitation or regret.

It's feeling more and more like go-time, and I'm feeling less and less anxiety. I know that the challenges of leading a classroom next week will likely dwarf any I've known - but at this point I understand that it needs to happen and it will happen, which is more than I could have honestly said a week ago.

Go Panthers!

Shift in Focus

I should clarify a little: I'm moving to Houston on Thursday to join Teach for America in closing the achievement gap. I'll spend the summer teaching summer school and receiving training, and by the time fall rolls around I'll be hired by an elementary or middle school to be a real live teacher.

The interviewing process hasn't started for me yet, so I don't know for sure whether I'll be standing in front of a room of fourth graders all day or giving geometry classes to eight graders (or anything in between). Obviously I've got a faint idea of which roles will be a better fit for me than others, but I trust that when I'm interviewing with principals, we'll be able to work together to determine where I'll best be utilized. I'm excited to dive into whatever opportunity is presented.

The last month has been a whirlwind - but I've gotten the chance in the last few days to start really digging into some of the preparatory reading materials that Teach For America provides. I've been reading and thinking about classroom management, elements of learning theory, instructional planning and delivery, and the like. I'm relishing the shift in focus from "saying goodbye" and "getting all my things to Texas" to "inspiring a classroom" and "preparing lessons."

Another shift in focus has been from the role of a tutor to the role of a teacher. This will undoubtedly be one of the biggest and most immediate challenges for me, since I've enjoyed the advantages of the one-on-one interactions I've had in music lessons and tutoring. I've also been able to mix a lot of the elements of friendship into those one-on-one situations - the types of elements that simply won't translate into an effective and successful classroom.

I'm not so delusional as to believe that I'll be met with immediate personal success and unbounded happiness in Houston. I have high expectations for myself (and even higher for my future students), but if there's anything that working in occupational therapy for the last few months has taught me (and there is a lot), it's that some success is unrecognizable and not even necessarily enjoyable while it's happening. Most successes for me have seemed small - and much less tangible than a percentage scrawled on the top of a test. But I can't describe the joys I've experienced in the relationships that were formed through those minute-to-minute successes (and failures). Rather than continuing this abstract rambling, it's story time.

(NOTE: I was excited to start doing the trendy teacher thing where I use initials when I talk about students. But instead I think I'm going to take the opportunity to come up with aliases like Max Power or Funky Buttlovin' or even Mark Texiera or The Puma...)

Jay Greenbag (pronounced Green-bahg) had been one of my piano students since I started last November. When he started, he had just turned seven and had the attention-span you would expect many seven-year-olds to have. Jay had been struggling at times in school with receiving instruction, so his parents simply wanted him to be introduced to music in such a way that he could enjoy something and work at his own pace. Of course, I had additional goals for Jay: I wanted him to find a way to express himself through music, and I wanted to impress on him that his choice to continually work hard and challenge himself will lead to tangible improvement.

Looking back now - over the span of several months - he did improve a lot. He went from not being able to pick out a note to being able to read from the staff, form major and minor chords, talk about the differences between two songs, and plunk out melodies of his own. This improvement was only an indirect result of anything I did - it all came from his own hard work.

But seldom did I have the opportunity to look back over my time with Jay using the lens of hindsight. Much more often, I sat in front of a microscopic view of our interactions: the weeks I failed to find a way to inspire him to practice at home, the seconds that ticked by while I failed to help him connect the dots in his mind and slowly lost his attention, the minutes that we talked through musical ideas but I failed to provide an immediate and practical way for Jay to apply them. The many moments that worked lit up my days, but at first the many moments that didn't really took their toll.

What did and didn't work with Jay Greenbag reminded me about the importance of setting big goals and investing students in working hard to reach them. It also reminded me that there is only so much that I have control of - namely the 30 minutes a week that I was with him - and that it is crucial that I plan purposefully and execute effectively. He also reminded me that seven-year-olds have little concept of age when he legitimately guessed that I was 90-years-old during our last lesson. (After I told him he was wrong, he adjusted his guess to 102, so we just settled on that.)

I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't think I could provide a classroom right now with the tools, guidance, and motivation to succeed. Still, there are people I know - current great teachers - who will read this blog in the coming months and shake their head at the naive observations and experiences of a new teacher. Just as I've gone into my previous jobs knowing I had a lot to learn, I'll fly into Houston knowing that there will be plenty of room for personal growth as a teacher. Thankfully, I know I'll be blessed with plenty of opportunity to learn this summer and in the years to come.

In Transit

Well, I was working on a new website and inadvertently busted up the old one. I'll get it all up and running when I get the chance (which looks to be later, rather than sooner), but I threw together this site for the meantime. You know how you can tell that it was thrown together? It's in black and white like Nick at Nite.

It's weird to think that in 4 days, I'll be 1200 miles from here. It's not overwhelming, just strange. The reality of leaving the comfort of familiar scenery, relationships, and jobs - and running headlong into very new ones - hasn't even begun to sink in.

And the sweating. My God, the sweating.