One year ago today, just as my 6th-period class was starting, the voice of my principal came over the intercom. It wasn't her normal tone. We could tell that she had been crying as she asked for all students and teachers to come upstairs to the chapel. Since we had been praying for one of our students who had been in the hospital that week, we knew this had to be bad news. I grabbed a box of tissues and carried it with me as we walked out the door.
I have never experienced 300 middle and high school students as quiet as they were while walking up to that room. Very few spoke at all, and those that did whispered something like, "What else could it be?" They filed into the chapel and sat on the floor (the only way we can put them all in the same room) in anticipation of the coming announcement.
Our head of school stepped onto the stage and said, "We just got a call and . . ." His voice broke just before he finished the sentence. I don't remember much of what he said after that. We prayed. We all cried together. No one left the room for almost an hour.
Looking back, I realize that I have never loved our head of school more than I did in that moment (and I've loved him quite a bit since he got here, so that's saying something). It was the break in his voice that did it. He allowed students to see and hear his weakness in that moment. He let them understand that he didn't have the magic words that would make them all feel better, and that was okay.
A couple of months later, while on an overnight field trip, we received another gut-punching piece of news. I stood in wonder that evening as I witnessed our principal talk to the 8th-grade. The most impressive thing she said was, "We will not come to a conclusion because there are things we do not know." That set a tone that carried through the rest of that trip for students and chaperones alike. In our jump to immediate conclusions, share it on social media, cancel culture, the lesson of waiting for information may be the most important 21st Century living lesson the members of that class could ever learn. I have always loved and respected this woman, but in that moment, it was awe that I felt for her.
In both of these situations, the strength of our leaders came from their willingness to show their vulnerability. Thankfully, we don't have to experience a traumatic event to exercise that same willingness. As teachers, we are presented with opportunities almost daily that allow us to model the strength of weakness.
- A student asks a question you don't know the answer to. How do you react?
- You have a typo on your test, and a student points it out. How do you react?
- You are in the middle of an example and realize you have made a mistake. How do you react?
- You mispronounce a name. How do you react?
- A student points out that your socks don't match or your shirt is on backward. How do you react?
Every one of these situations will happen to you. Your reaction, whatever it is, teaches students a lesson.
- If you admit you don't know the answer to a question and then look for the answer together, you teach humility, curiosity, and the joy of learning for your entire life. If you bluff the answer, you teach that image is more important than truth.
- If you own the typo and correct it, you teach that no one is perfect and that redemption is available. If you get defensive, you teach mistakes are something to embarrassed by.
- If you expose the mistake and fix it, you teach the value of transparency. If you pretend it isn't there, you teach that hiding your faults is how to protect yourself.
- If you apologize for the mispronunciation and correct it, you teach them that you care about them. If you blow it off, you teach that your ego is more important than your students.
- If you laugh at your socks or backward shirt, you teach them not to sweat the small stuff. If you react with embarrassment, you teach them to think of small setbacks as more important than they are.
Take the daily opportunities to model the strength of weakness. Your students will benefit from it.
Saturday, February 22, 2020
Monday, February 17, 2020
Stop Trying to Be Somewhere Else
Disclaimer: I do not own a cell phone of any kind. This does make me biased, but it also makes me an observer of what is happening in a way others are not. Read on with that knowledge in mind.
Is your phone in your pocket? Your purse? Facedown on a table in front of you? In your hand?
We all know the typical story used in posts like these. The family that is out to dinner and not talking to each other because they are all on their phones. Because this example gets used so often, I think we may have deceived ourselves into thinking that is the only example. Yet, if you put your phone down a look around, you will find that no place or activity is immune.
- In my job as a yearbook photographer, I attend a lot of sporting events. No matter how exciting the game is, there are always a number of people texting someone who is not there.
- At camp, adults aren't allowed to have their phones out around the kids, but the second the kids aren't there, every adult is scrolling through their social media.
- I was recently in a prayer meeting where a phone buzzed, and the person picked it up to check the message. That means they interrupted their conversation with the Lord to check a message that would still be there when the meeting ended five minutes later.
- I am constantly distracted by the people in front of me at church. No, they are not taking notes. They are not on their Bible app. They are texting someone who is in another church to decide where they will meet for lunch.
- Last Sunday, my mom and I went to see Tony Bennett in concert. It's safe to say that, at age 43, I was the youngest person there. As we got settled in and waited for the show to start, I looked around and saw EVERYONE scrolling through a phone and texting. I nudged my mom and said, "For all the smack people talk about teenagers, look around this room. These people ought to know better." When the lights went down, the person next to my mom, unaware of how to set her phone in dark mode, continued to text for five more minutes. These people had paid good money to attend a concert (which they are unlikely to get the opportunity to see again because Tony Bennett is 93) and were spending their time communicating with someone who had not laid down their money to be there.
What disturbs me about this phenomenon, aside from it being what old sci-fi movies predicted when they showed people wandering the streets in a disinterested fog, is that we now believe it is normal to split your mind in an attempt to be in two places at once. But here is what we know about the human brain; it cannot do that. Your mind is not capable of attending to two things at the same time. That means that, while you are texting or scrolling, you are no longer mentally present at the ball game, camp, prayer meeting, church service, or concert. You are sacrificing being where you are in order to be somewhere else.
Please understand, I am not trying to discount the good that can come from a dad on a business trip who can talk to their kids over facetime or the ability to do business with someone at a distance. My favorite thing that has ever come from our school's technology initiative was when we live-streamed a basketball tournament and sent the link to the athletic director of the other team. We happened to be playing a school with a large number of kids whose parents were in the military and, because of the technology, were able to watch their sons play basketball from Iraq and Afghanistan (I didn't even mind that we lost that game).
The difference between those moments and the ones I find disturbing is that those are moments when the place far away is the better place to attend to, and you step away from where you are on purpose to fully attend to that conversation. The day to day problem is that we are never where we physically are or where we are trying to be instead. By trying to be everywhere, we are nowhere.
The science is clear. This way of life is physically changing our brains. It is increasing anxiety, depression, and disconnectedness in everyone, especially our kids. We convince ourselves that we are in control (even though we know, deep down, that we are not). We tell others that we don't do it that much (I actually had someone tell me that once while having a text conversation with someone else). When someone attempts to point out the problem, the response is usually one of anger. These are all signs of addiction, and we are allowing it to continue in the name of convenience.
Is your phone in your pocket? Your purse? Facedown on a table in front of you? In your hand?
We all know the typical story used in posts like these. The family that is out to dinner and not talking to each other because they are all on their phones. Because this example gets used so often, I think we may have deceived ourselves into thinking that is the only example. Yet, if you put your phone down a look around, you will find that no place or activity is immune.
- In my job as a yearbook photographer, I attend a lot of sporting events. No matter how exciting the game is, there are always a number of people texting someone who is not there.
- At camp, adults aren't allowed to have their phones out around the kids, but the second the kids aren't there, every adult is scrolling through their social media.
- I was recently in a prayer meeting where a phone buzzed, and the person picked it up to check the message. That means they interrupted their conversation with the Lord to check a message that would still be there when the meeting ended five minutes later.
- I am constantly distracted by the people in front of me at church. No, they are not taking notes. They are not on their Bible app. They are texting someone who is in another church to decide where they will meet for lunch.
- Last Sunday, my mom and I went to see Tony Bennett in concert. It's safe to say that, at age 43, I was the youngest person there. As we got settled in and waited for the show to start, I looked around and saw EVERYONE scrolling through a phone and texting. I nudged my mom and said, "For all the smack people talk about teenagers, look around this room. These people ought to know better." When the lights went down, the person next to my mom, unaware of how to set her phone in dark mode, continued to text for five more minutes. These people had paid good money to attend a concert (which they are unlikely to get the opportunity to see again because Tony Bennett is 93) and were spending their time communicating with someone who had not laid down their money to be there.
What disturbs me about this phenomenon, aside from it being what old sci-fi movies predicted when they showed people wandering the streets in a disinterested fog, is that we now believe it is normal to split your mind in an attempt to be in two places at once. But here is what we know about the human brain; it cannot do that. Your mind is not capable of attending to two things at the same time. That means that, while you are texting or scrolling, you are no longer mentally present at the ball game, camp, prayer meeting, church service, or concert. You are sacrificing being where you are in order to be somewhere else.
Please understand, I am not trying to discount the good that can come from a dad on a business trip who can talk to their kids over facetime or the ability to do business with someone at a distance. My favorite thing that has ever come from our school's technology initiative was when we live-streamed a basketball tournament and sent the link to the athletic director of the other team. We happened to be playing a school with a large number of kids whose parents were in the military and, because of the technology, were able to watch their sons play basketball from Iraq and Afghanistan (I didn't even mind that we lost that game).
The difference between those moments and the ones I find disturbing is that those are moments when the place far away is the better place to attend to, and you step away from where you are on purpose to fully attend to that conversation. The day to day problem is that we are never where we physically are or where we are trying to be instead. By trying to be everywhere, we are nowhere.
The science is clear. This way of life is physically changing our brains. It is increasing anxiety, depression, and disconnectedness in everyone, especially our kids. We convince ourselves that we are in control (even though we know, deep down, that we are not). We tell others that we don't do it that much (I actually had someone tell me that once while having a text conversation with someone else). When someone attempts to point out the problem, the response is usually one of anger. These are all signs of addiction, and we are allowing it to continue in the name of convenience.
Tuesday, February 11, 2020
The Internet is Not Always Right
This is going to be a short one.
We teach kids not to believe everything they read on the internet. Yet:
- Yesterday, I saw full-grown adults posting pictures of their brooms standing up and an "explanation" of gravity and the earth's tilt "from NASA."
- Two weeks ago, the "Facebook only shows me 25 people. Copying and pasting this message will change their algorithm." thing started going around again. Again, these were full-grown adults, who were posting that it really works because they were told to paste it.
- Adults proudly post their results on a quiz, which they took because they saw a post that said most people can't pass it.
- There are a myriad of people passing on things whose numbers could be easily checked, like the next palindrome day won't happen for 900 years, how many full moons will fall on a Monday, etc.
The internet is a wonderful thing, but it shouldn't replace your brain.
- There are no days in which gravity is different than other days. You can stand a broom up every day. NASA did not tell you otherwise.
- You cannot change an algorithm by copying and pasting. That's not how algorithms work.
- They completely make up the score that "most people" get on the quiz. You are not special for doing better than that.
- There will be a palindrome day on December 11 of next year.
If you don't want your kids to believe everything they read on the internet, you should stop believing everything you read on the internet.
We teach kids not to believe everything they read on the internet. Yet:
- Yesterday, I saw full-grown adults posting pictures of their brooms standing up and an "explanation" of gravity and the earth's tilt "from NASA."
- Two weeks ago, the "Facebook only shows me 25 people. Copying and pasting this message will change their algorithm." thing started going around again. Again, these were full-grown adults, who were posting that it really works because they were told to paste it.
- Adults proudly post their results on a quiz, which they took because they saw a post that said most people can't pass it.
- There are a myriad of people passing on things whose numbers could be easily checked, like the next palindrome day won't happen for 900 years, how many full moons will fall on a Monday, etc.
The internet is a wonderful thing, but it shouldn't replace your brain.
- There are no days in which gravity is different than other days. You can stand a broom up every day. NASA did not tell you otherwise.
- You cannot change an algorithm by copying and pasting. That's not how algorithms work.
- They completely make up the score that "most people" get on the quiz. You are not special for doing better than that.
- There will be a palindrome day on December 11 of next year.
If you don't want your kids to believe everything they read on the internet, you should stop believing everything you read on the internet.
It's not possible to get over 10/10. They must be hoping 90's kids weren't taught math. |
Monday, February 3, 2020
Teacher Connections Lead to Academic Connections
Today, this science teacher spent some time in an English class analyzing a historical speech. How did this happen? Facebook and openness. Let me explain.
I added a unit on human space exploration to my physical science class twenty years ago. If you want to know why, see this post. During this unit, we spend a day on the three fatal accidents of NASA (Apollo I, Challenger, and Columbia). This is a difficult day for me, as I watch the CNN footage of the Challenger explosion in every class. I also show Reagan's beautiful speech, which made my fourth-grade self feel so much better the night of the explosion. It's hard to explain, but it felt like my grandpa was telling me everything would be okay. As I've grown older, I've been able to appreciate the speech itself, from the compassionate writing of Peggy Noonan to the poem quoted at the end. Today, I've grown in appreciation for that speech even more, sitting in two AP Language classes.
I know you still want to know how Facebook came into this. On the day I showed this speech to my 8th grade, I posted a link to it on Facebook and Twitter as well. I wanted to share the nice part of my day and remind people what the President of my childhood sounded like. Among the comments was one from our English department chair, telling me that she teaches this speech in her class. I replied that I would love to be part of that discussion sometime. She emailed me the date and class periods.
One of the things I love about my school is that, "I'd love to sit in on that discussion" isn't a really weird request. I love that there are invitations to come see awesome teaching or judge student presentations or just enjoy learning about something that the other teacher knows you are interested in. Showing up in another teacher's class (especially one outside of your own subject area) illustrates to students that there are connections between the different types of material that they learn. The science teacher and the English teacher may appreciate the same speech for different reasons, but they both appreciate it.
The openness of our teachers with each other allows deeper academic connections to be made in the minds of students that might not happen if we just closed our doors and taught in isolation.
I added a unit on human space exploration to my physical science class twenty years ago. If you want to know why, see this post. During this unit, we spend a day on the three fatal accidents of NASA (Apollo I, Challenger, and Columbia). This is a difficult day for me, as I watch the CNN footage of the Challenger explosion in every class. I also show Reagan's beautiful speech, which made my fourth-grade self feel so much better the night of the explosion. It's hard to explain, but it felt like my grandpa was telling me everything would be okay. As I've grown older, I've been able to appreciate the speech itself, from the compassionate writing of Peggy Noonan to the poem quoted at the end. Today, I've grown in appreciation for that speech even more, sitting in two AP Language classes.
I know you still want to know how Facebook came into this. On the day I showed this speech to my 8th grade, I posted a link to it on Facebook and Twitter as well. I wanted to share the nice part of my day and remind people what the President of my childhood sounded like. Among the comments was one from our English department chair, telling me that she teaches this speech in her class. I replied that I would love to be part of that discussion sometime. She emailed me the date and class periods.
One of the things I love about my school is that, "I'd love to sit in on that discussion" isn't a really weird request. I love that there are invitations to come see awesome teaching or judge student presentations or just enjoy learning about something that the other teacher knows you are interested in. Showing up in another teacher's class (especially one outside of your own subject area) illustrates to students that there are connections between the different types of material that they learn. The science teacher and the English teacher may appreciate the same speech for different reasons, but they both appreciate it.
The openness of our teachers with each other allows deeper academic connections to be made in the minds of students that might not happen if we just closed our doors and taught in isolation.
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