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Archive for the ‘musings’ Category
Good Teacher
March 7th, 2010
I was a teacher, once, for a year, at a high school where I learned that:
- There are students who will succeed no matter what you do, how you teach, or how hard you work.
- There are students who will fail no matter what you do, how you teach, or how hard you work.
- These two facts do not let you off the hook, but they will make you feel pretty stupid when you forget them.
- Being a good [subject] teacher, does not necessarily produce students that are good at [subject].
In my case, teaching Interactive Game Design for 11th and 12th graders, you’d think that being a good teacher would produce good game designers. That makes sense, right? That’s what I was being paid to do…right? No. That’s stupid and too simple.
Honestly, we shouldn’t be aiming for that anyway.
It’d be nice to be able to throw this template down on every student and just say, “This is how we do it. This is what I’m teaching, this is how you will learn it, and this is where this class leaves off and another begins. By the time you have had n classes, you will know what I know.” But that, too, is too stupid and too simple. College can work that way, but high school can’t. Or shouldn’t, rather.
What a teacher has to swallow is much more complicated, and honestly, much more humbling. You see, for a handful of students, the teacher is completely irrelevant (academically). I was irrelevant. The school could have run tapes of Dora the Explorer all day and these students would have still been good students. They still would have had that hustle that others admire, and they would have understood Dora better than their peers come graduation day.
On the opposite end, no amount of personal attention, one-on-one tutorials, extra time, extra homework, verbal, written, or visual lessons was going to help that handful of students who refused to let it help them. Nothing was going to change that. For them, I was irrelevant too, just a different kind of irrelevant. An irritating itch they could do without.
The problem is in the expectations: I teach X. Students learn X. Eventually they will do X for a living.
The model is wrong. What we should be doing is getting the hell out of the way. Why do we keep telling our students what to be good at? Do we think they don’t already want to be good at something for themselves?
The truth is, students want to be good at something, 99% of them CAN be good at something, and good teachers let them. That’s what we should be taught to do, and that’s a lesson my students taught me.
Say Something Original
January 15th, 2010
And here’s the trick: Take all of your first reactions — all of them — and don’t let them come out of your mouth.
Your replies, your first thoughts, your first facial expressions. None of them are original. They’re too ingrained. They’re expected now. Stop doing them.
That small thing, the act of shutting the hell up, forces you to have another thought. It may not be any good, but that’s not the point. One day they’ll be good. With practice we get better.
This is my advice to me, but you’re welcome to listen if you like. This should have been a resolution for 2010, but I probably said something rote instead.
Mexican Medicine
November 30th, 2009
This post is not about the swine flu. This about real illnesses and real people. Some of them live next to you, or in the shanty behind your house. Some of them mow your lawn and clean your pool. Some of them have fixed your cars with five-dollar parts from the “swap meet”. Most of them are related to me. This post is about Mexicans. In order to understand this post, you have to understand Mexican families. We have rules. They are never broken.
Growing up, we rarely went to the doctor. Don’t ask me why. My parents had rockin’ health insurance, so that wasn’t it. We’re a very do-it-yourself breed, so that’s probably to blame.
When you are young and (Mexican and) sick, you do whatever grandma tells you to do to remedy the problem. It doesn’t matter how absurd it sounds, you just do it. My grandma once told one of my many cousins to tape pennies to his temples to cure a headache. He didn’t do it because he didn’t want to look like a fool. By the next day he had come down with a very severe, very public, case of the flu. Not only has his embarrassment outlived his illness, but we’re pretty sure it’s because our grandma put the bad juju on him for not following instructions. These are the kinds of things you get used to. Grandma is the Queen, we are her worker bees.
These are just a couple of the things Grandma has taught me:
- The stomach flu is cured with 7up and crackers. The warmer the 7up, the better.
- An upset stomach can also be tamed with hot water and a bit of sugar. Let the sugar dissolve before drinking.
- If you blow on an open cut, it will somehow hurt less. Try it, it works.
- If you have a sore throat, pour a mug of scalding hot water, toss a tablespoon of salt in it, and gargle with it as far down your throat as you can go without gagging. No. Better yet, gag a little. It’ll do you some good. You will burn your mouth. Don’t worry too much about that, it heals fast.
- Headaches are cured in a number of ways, but a lot of the remedy depends on where the headache is coming from. Here are some things you should try:
- Have someone tug on your hair. You heard me. Put your head on their lap, and let them tug on patches. Let them tug hard enough to be uncomfortable, but not so hard as to tear out any hair.
- Ask someone to rub your hands. Particularly the webs between your fingers.
- Get fresh air. (This one is universal. It doesn’t matter how sick you are, you still need to go outside at least once a day.)
- Aloe vera is the miracle drug. Next to marijuana, there is nothing better to help an ailing body. Severed limb? No problem, rub some aloe vera on it. Mexican grandma’s have at least one plant in the yard at all times. Don’t have one? Ask mine, she always has extra.
- Always touch the baby. Infants are prone to ojo. You can give a baby ojo if you fail to touch the child when one is in your presence. Believe me, you do not want the responsibility for that one.
- If your body gets wet, you must also wet your head. Mexican children will never be seen playing in the pool with dry heads. Parents are likely to be punished for allowing such a thing.
- Colicy babies should be given salt. I don’t know why, but it works.
There are some traditions that are just plain creepy and I’ve left them off. Some things involve needles and such, or flesh wounds. There are others that are weird, but not creepy (like rolling an egg on a crying baby and cracking it in a glass of water). I’ll leave it to my family to put them in the comments.
Dear Dad,
September 29th, 2009
It’s been a while since we last spoke, hasn’t it? No need to place blame. I think we both know what happened.
Let me bring you up to speed:
- I know you know about grandpa, no need to go into a whole story about that. Say hi to him for us.
- Your son got married (Jeanine, thank the Lord). They bought a house, and you now have two grandchildren. They’re both going to be wicked smart, which scares the pants off of all of us because we know we’re about to be outwitted by amateurs. Heaven help us when they are old enough to band together; we won’t stand a chance.
- Your other daughter went to “medical school” and she worked for several years in a gastroenterology clinic. All her good stories start with, “So I was in the middle of this colon, right?”… She’s a perfect copy of you, dad, but with mom’s nose and without the military background. Mom’s pissed that she’s just like you, but the rest of us are glad about it.
- Mom is still working at CART and even though they treat her well, I think she’s ready to retire. Not that we blame her. Just how many years can a person deal with high school kids?
- Dre — you remember Dre, right? She had the tongue piercing and the red streaks in her hair? — has a handle on the whole family. I swear dad, if it wasn’t for Dre there wouldn’t be a family left to speak of. And, oh yeah, she took out the tongue ring and her hair is brown.
As for myself, I graduated from college and moved back home shortly after. College was fun after I got over being homesick, but before that it sucked. I’ve been both lucky and unlucky in love, which, I know if I gave you a word in edgewise you’d have plenty to say about that. But I’m not going to. You can write your own letter.
I have a dog, and I bought a car. We found out there is something wrong with the way my brain is put together, but that story has a long explanation. Let’s just say, you would have a field day poking fun at me, but you would also be scared ’cause that’s how you are. I’m living in Fresno in an area you probably wouldn’t like, and I’m not so sure you would like my job either (mom sure doesn’t).
I wonder if you’d like my friends, and if you’re proud of us at all. Well, I wonder if you’re proud of me, really, but sometimes I wonder about all of us.
The fair is coming up, and I’m going to have a corndog in your honor. I’m going to slather it in mustard and spread it out with my finger just like you would do. Hope you don’t mind me copying you. You know the best tricks.
None of us ride the rides anymore, I think we mostly go because of you…well, you and the food. Let’s not downplay the food.
I guess that’s all I’m going to say for the moment. We’re always wondering what you’re up to, though. We wonder what it’s like over there and if you’re too busy to catch all that’s happening over here. Of course, lot’s of other things have happened, but there’s way too much to write. I just thought I would write this so you know that January 13th isn’t the only day we think about you. We miss you all the time.
Love you. Wish you were here.
Irma Jr.
P.S. If you see a guy named Joseph Cardoza, keep an eye out for him. He’s good people. He’s Kelly’s brother. (Remember Kelly? Ran face first into the bell at the grammar school and had to have stitches?). We would all really appreciate that. Thanks, dad.
Dispelling the Launch Myth
September 24th, 2009
I’m just going to lay it down in small words: “If you build it, they will come,” is a crock of shit.
To borrow a phrase, if I had a nickle for every time a website launch was delayed on account of the imperfections…
As a web programmer, I see a lot of projects come and go. We depend on the project manager’s ability to say, “We could spend more time polishing and adding features, but let’s get this in front of some eyes,” which is a hard thing to say, I’ll admit, because there are 10,000 things that could be better. If you happen to be the project manager, then that burden is on you.
And what makes it even harder is this strange voice in your head that says, in no uncertain terms, that as soon as you upload those files, all the world’s web traffic is going to come crashing down on your web server. We start to believe that Google will index those pages in their first five minutes of life rather than the week(s) we know it takes for everyone else’s sites to be crawled. We start to picture the angry emails about god-knows-what wrecking havoc in someone’s personal life because there are two instances where someone’s name is spelled wrong. What could be worse?
Yeah, but that’s not how it works. Uploading some files will probably not register with many people at all. In fact, it’s really anticlimactic when you’ve been cranking out an app or site for weeks and then the moment of truth…is quiet.
I know it’s really hard to picture a world where no one is paying attention to you, but don’t be fooled. That place is real and it’s called the Internet. I’m not talking about your Twitter account or your Facebook page. I’m talking about your new site. Your new application.
There will always be a sea of reasons to wait on a launch, and only one reason to go ahead and do it. (Hint: Progress.)
So you, programmer, in the back with the Redbull and Cheetos, I only have one thing to say to you: Quit being a pansy. It’s time to launch.
What Learning Actually Looks Like
August 21st, 2009
I mean, really. You stand in front of room all day, you use emphasis, you try to be funny, and you’ve got this range of faces looking back at you. There are moments you doubt yourself. Are you wasting their time? Are they resenting you? They’re judging you, for sure.
Student Priorities
Every teacher, tutor, trainer and presenter wants to know. How can you tell when the students are learning? What are the signs? Because once you’ve got the clue, you can do more of whatever is working.
Do they sit up straighter? Pipe up when you ask for feedback? Can you tell they’re learning when they scribble in their notebooks and turn in their homework when you ask for it?
Maybe.
More than anything, I think those things are indicators of being well behaved, not necessarily of ingesting information.
“So what the hell, irms? Are you saying we can’t tell when students are learning?” you rudely say to me. I think you can.
Learning looks like teaching.
Something inherent in a student’s brain understands how to give instruction where you can’t reach. Maybe you don’t remember what it’s like to not get it. Maybe you don’t see that they don’t understand. Maybe they’ve faked you out. Maybe you’ve simply used all the words you know to explain the concept and cannot, for the very life of you, find more.
People that know things are the ones that explain to people who don’t know things. i.e. The ones who have learned, teach the ones who have not yet learned.
Motivations are wildly different. The sharing of ‘how to’ between students is driven by all sorts of reasons. The smart kids want everyone else to get it so they can move on, the least brainy finally know something others don’t, still others are natural instructors, predisposed to dispensing information. The agendas are immaterial. The basic tell is the same: learners teach.
And you shouldn’t stop them from doing so lest you crush the only indicator you have for knowing what your students have learned from you, by overhearing them teach it to others.
Accidents & Inspiration
July 27th, 2009
…will lead you to your destination. — Mary Chapin Carpenter, The Long Way Home
I went to school on an academic scholarship, and I wish I could say that I got to do that on account of my incredible foresight, determination, and hard work. But that’s not at all what happened. Here’s how it went down:
When I was fairly young (7), I realized it felt really good to do well on my homework. When you’re seven, you don’t really think of things in terms of hard and not-hard. You think of things in terms of in-trouble versus not-in-trouble. I didn’t think about being smarter than everyone else, I just saw an easy way to not agitate the adults at home or at school, and that seemed just fine to me.
Compliments about being smart were nice, but really, I was just happy to be left alone. Being nerdy with schoolwork almost directly meant I couldn’t really be chummy with other people my age, so I figured I better get good at sports too. I wasn’t funny enough, or charming enough, or pretty enough to be recognized for those qualities, so sports it would be. Besides that, my dad seemed to appreciate all the “hard work” I was putting in and that made me feel pretty good too.
Doing well in work and play became a habit. Only during lectures by college spokespeople in high school did I ever think (or say) that I was working toward a long-term goal. My goal was to do good that day and not get in trouble the next. Those were my aspirations.
Once “getting A’s” became habitual, and being athletic was pretty well cemented, then the rest was just for show. Nothing required honest-to-god hard work, it just looked, from the outside, as though it did. What really mattered, was time. Everything required time. So I did as many things as would fit in a day since wearing out oneself isn’t a factor when you’re 16 years old.
At one point, I was taking 8 classes in a school that was structured for a maximum of 7, playing two sports concurrently and performing with two bands. I also worked and volunteered outside of school. Again, I never thought about things in terms of hard work — only time. Operating at full-tilt was my mode by default at this point, not effort. Habit, really. Certainly not out of drive.
I distinctly remember a teacher telling me I was his single source of inspiration in a very difficult (his first) year of teaching. I remember feeling flattered, but wondering what I was doing that was so damn hard. I knew I was being given too much credit. Getting in the Who’s Who of American High School Students book didn’t feel like the achievement it was supposed to be.
So I got good grades because they were easier than bad grades on the stay-out-of-my-hair-I’ll-stay-out-of-yours scale, and I was good at sports because they were fun and I liked the praise.
During our junior year, they ushered the entire class into the cafeteria to take the PSATs (Preliminary SATs). I scored very well on the test because it didn’t make sense to blow off a test that got me out of class all day. I did not seek this test out. My high school just told us to take it. I didn’t have a choice. (Apparently, most high schools advertise the dates and students sign up to sit the test.)
Months later, my school received a letter that said I should demonstrate my extra-curricular awesomeness, send in my transcripts and submit letters of recommendation to be considered for the National Merit Finalist Award. The councilor of the school, at the time, Mr. Cantu, did all this without my knowledge. Weeks after that, I was on the golden list. Thank you, Mr. Cantu.
Letters from colleges came by the dozens. My dad threatened to charge me rent on the post office box. Scholarship offers for sports, academia, and merit rolled in. Some large, some small. I chose the largest and moved to Ohio.
I lived there for 6 years and stumbled away with an engineering degree in 2004. (College stories are for another post, stay with me here.)
Engineering, specifically Computer Science & Engineering, was the third most difficult degree to complete at my school at that time. Law was first, followed by Pharmacy, and the school I went to was notorious for three of the most rigorous programs in those areas. So why did I choose it? Well first, when I chose it, I didn’t know those facts. Second, my brother laughed at me when I told him because he knew I didn’t know the first thing about computers and that made me just mad enough to do it out of spite. And third, I didn’t have anything else in mind, so this seemed good enough.
So what am I saying here? That I’m not smart? Or hard-working? Or ambitious? No. I think I’m all those things. Or, at least, now I am. But the lesson here is how I came to be those things.
Now I recognize my qualities and I can better myself because of them. But I wasn’t born reaching for the stars. It wasn’t until I realized I was on my way there anyway that I decided they were a destination.
If you’re still reading this, you should know that this is somewhat embarrassing to write. I’ve pretty much just admitted to God and everyone that my motives were never pure, my drive was misguided, and my intentions were shortsighted. I am not, nor was I ever, the level-headed kid with big goals and small pockets. I was not out to best by financial situation by getting a giant scholarship and then blowing the lid off expectations by majoring in something hard. Given the circumstances, I was just doing what seemed easiest at that time, and that’s embarrassing to say out loud.
But I think the lesson is too great to be eclipsed by my shame. It’s important to realize that the driving factors here were external. All along the way. I wanted people to think good things about me, I didn’t necessarily want to be that good.
Now that I’m older, in control, and very very wise, I’m always judging the people around me. Students and friends alike, wondering why they have no ambition. Why don’t they want to work harder and learn new things?
Which is why I had to write this.
My judgement is wrong. It’s a mistake. Afterall, it’s none of my doing that I have those traits now. Children and students, especially, should benefit from this revelation.
I think we should take a good long look at our best qualities and figure out how they got there. That way, when we are teaching the next generation, whether by example or in front of a classroom, we can faithfully make them better people…by fastening on to their best qualities and giving them no other choice.
Stuff That Does The Opposite of Bother Me
July 23rd, 2009
I feel a followup is necessary to undo some of the moaning and groaning of my last posting. Here, I list some things that are the human equivalent to how a dog must feel when his belly is being rubbed. So, without further ado, I give you…my buttons:
People that employ seldom used words in everyday converstation.
The feeling of drying off in the sun.
Tucking my feet under the person sitting next to me. (The other person tends to not like this as much as I do 
Cran-Grape Juice, Lucky Charms, cinammon suckers, and cold glasses of milk.
Movie gift-certificates.
The way my dog lets me hold his feet when he’s sleeping.
Strangers that quote Friends or West Wing.
People that R.O.C.K. O.U.T. in their cars or to their iPods.
Telling stories about my family.
Brand new socks. (This one is universal, I think.)
Freshly showered people. All people. Bonus points if you still smell like soap.
Old people that hold hands in public.
Patriotic songs and Christmas music.
Watching skinny women drink regular soda instead of diet.
Falling asleep uncovered and waking up with a blanket over me.
Being humbled by an overwhelming truth, and the exhilarating moment when you confess it. (Examples: “I love you,” or, “I was wrong,” or “You’re my lobster.” (part 2)
Having my ears played with. (The jokes about being part-dog can stop right here.)
Perfectly salted popcorn.
Watermelon at barbeques and sunflower seeds at baseball games.
That sensation you feel when’ve been up for 50+ hours and you’re about to fall asleep. It’s like this terrifying free-fall, but you know it means good sleep is taking over.
Being graciously proved wrong.
Unconventional and truly useful business policies (like car-camping in Wal-mart’s parking lot, or offering free coffee to weary travelers [Baymont Inns & Suites]).
Waking up too early and realizing you still have two more hours to sleep.
Friends whose personal-space needs are nearly nonexistent. (I’m the friend that likes to playfully bat at you, or maybe even shove you from time to time.)
Your comments. Please add your own.
Stuff That Bothers Me
July 20th, 2009
I think the title says it all, so let’s jump right in, shall we?
The inappropriate use of the word “then” when “than” is required.
People that spell “dat” instead of “that” or “wat” instead of “what”.
The rule that you can’t text during a movie. I was once chastised by a man in the theater before this was an advertised rule. He wanted me to stop texting during the previews, I wanted him to stop reading my texts!
People that laugh at strangers that fall.
Likewise, people that clap when someone drops a tray.
Weak hand gestures when one is talking.
People that don’t offer their seats or open doors for the elderly. (As far as I’m concerned, you should sprint to help an older man or woman. I’ll let you slide if you don’t know enough to offer your seat to a person of questionable seniority, but if you stay sitting when there is a clearly age-advanced person nearby, I’m going to tip over your chair with you in it.)
Forwards via text or email that tell me to pray or describe what a great person I am. I believe in prayer, and I’m more than happy to do so, but write me a real email. The forwards with Jesus standing in front of a waterfall are going straight to the trash bin.
Comic Sans MS font.
IE6, but for nerdy reasons.
Presentations that are entirely contained in the PowerPoint, and/or, presenters that read directly from said PowerPoint.
The smell of McDonald’s hand soap.
T-Shirts about stealing boyfriends or boinking girlfriends.
Metal/Rock/Alternative songs about “ending it” because some sappy emo kid can’t pull it together and feels oh-so-misunderstood.
People that get so over-the-top-upset about drivers that talk on their cell phones. Please. a) You do it too, b) You’re not that great a driver without your phone in your ear, c) cell phones are no worse than makeup/food/babies/XM Radio/GPS, and I KNOW you’re guilty of at least one of those.
The Mac/PC debate. Man alive. Buyers: pick one you like and can afford. Haters: shut up for fifteen minutes and read this.
Well, I think that about seals it. I won’t be running for office in this lifetime. I welcome your additions in the comments.
Why do you want to be rich?
July 12th, 2009
When circumstances change, we figure out answers to questions that weren’t relevant before. Women don’t buy men’s dress shirts, so they probably don’t know thier own neck size and sleeve-length. Mac users don’t do Windows Updates so they wouldn’t know how many reboots and extra space an XP PC (with no service packs) requires to be fully up-to-date (answer: usually 5 reboots, and roughly 250 MB of space). But a lady that receives a PC for her birthday and starts cross-dressing on the weekends gets familiar with that kind of information pretty quickly.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about my occupational circumstances.
I’m a nerd. I write code. I was a teacher for about a minute and a half. I’ve done tech support. I have launched huge systems for giant companies. I’ve lead teams. I’ve followed dumb directions. I’ve been the smartest person on the crew, and all alone feeling dumb. I’ve traveled a bit. I used to clean churches. I’ve served Italian food, and washed more than my share of dishes.
My whole life has been spent on a plane of “just barely enough, but no more than that”.
Let me be clear: I’m not complaining. Every fiber of my being is composed of the compulsion to achieve. That’s what I am. It’s what my parents made me. But now circumstances are changing. I’m good at what I do. I’m earning real money. I have flexibility in my life that didn’t exist before.
Seth Godin, in his post “Thinking about the compromise” writes:
If you sell crack to kindergarten students, no need to read this.
Same thing if you donate all your belongings and income to the poorest and sickest in the slums and ghettos.
The rest of us have compromised. We’re not profit-maximizing sociopaths, nor are we saints. We’re somewhere in between.
… …
Everyone is at their own level, but my impression is that most people sort of randomly end up somewhere on the greed/joy/work/good spectrum without really considering moving one way or the other.
These days, I have ideas about new things I could do. Ventures that are actually feasible, projects I am able to launch, and ways to make money doing things I feel I could be good at. The circumstances have changed and I have a new question to face:
Why?
‘Till now, I did most things out of necessity. But being in a position to do things because I want to means that, for the first time, I have to figure out why I would want to do them. It’s not a blind decision anymore, I’m making choices. I might end up rich. I could end up rich. Do I want to be rich? Why would I want to be rich? Are you? Can you tell me why?
Why do you want to be rich?
This is a real question. I think my life has always moved in the direction of ”let’s be in a position where we don’t have to struggle.” So what happens when you’re not struggling anymore? What happens when you you’re debt free, have a good job, and are able to contribute to the good of the world from time to time? By the way, I’m none of those things, but I imagine I will be soon. At least, that’s what I’m working toward now. And that begs the question: What do I work toward, next? Do I even want to have loads of money? And if so, why?
I’m interested in your answers. Please do write your thoughts in the comments.
[ Note ]
I’m not the only one asking this question. Both Get Rich Slowly, and I Will Teach You To Be Rich have good articles revolving the same question.