School Suck

I love social media. Like anything else, it’s a course you must navigate wisely to get your point across without offending people. One thing that social media has taught me, though, in recent years, is that people are still clever. NOW, I don’t know how old some of these people are, because they are clever on Twitter, where you can follow a hashtag and it will lead you to a bunch of smartypants looking to pun. I’m too lazy to look at their profiles–I just laugh because, most of the time, people can be pretty funny.
#DullDownaMovie. My posts were The (Middle School) Graduate or 500 Days of Bummer. I know, right?
#Elderlyscifi. Check out Star Wars: The Force Awakens at 4:00 am, or Mad Max: Blurry Road, or Children of Much Older Men. Hilarious!
I’d be curious to know how many teachers actually laugh in class because of something clever that a student said. OH, we laugh every day in all my classes, but it’s usually from someone saying something off topic or strange. Perhaps that goes along with humor found in movies and tv these days, but I digress. We laughed today at the memory of a student’s description of To Kill A Mockingbird. Early in the year, he explained the yearly classic as that one where the kid broke his arm at the start and end of the book. That’s funny, but there was no cleverness happening.
That’s just the way it goes these days. My students don’t know who Dave Chappelle is. I have no idea who they find funny. Years ago, that was Dane Cook, and then people figured things out.
However, today, a clever Facebook friend came through with an ARTICLE about a robot that can give people automated blessings. He even included my favorite Faulkner quote–“People to whom sin is just a matter of words, salvation is just words, too.” Now that’s the way to start a day. Instead, I started mine with a late start where the entire faculty was together, there was an assumption we could talk as a group, yet no one had the opportunity and the meeting ended 25 minutes early. But, once back to my room, I got to see the article, and it made me laugh.
Because the robots are coming, folks. And they may not look like the robots you’re used to from the sci-fi movies. They could look just like teachers on the outside, but these folks might read entire books to students. Or, they could be behind the desk and hard to see around the wall of packets. If you look harder into the Word Search you’ve been handed, there’s a code explaining all of this.
Bless me Fatherbot, for it’s been three weeks since I’ve touched your interface.

It’s a beautiful day off from school. The sun is out, Bacon is asleep on the couch, The Cult’s “Love Removal Machine” is playing throughout the living room, the wife has her feet up, the boy is in his lair, and I’m taking a break from homework. Yes, we will get outside later. It’s not even noon–we’ve still got seven+ hours of sun (maybe less depending on the marine layer).
My homework today is curriculum-driven. I have a class where my students aren’t the most motivated, though I’m not sure they are not capable. It’s one of those instances that happen every now and again in teaching–students don’t want others in the class to know that they know anything, or that they do well. Really. This happens. I’ve made mistakes in the past by praising students and telling them, in front of the class, how well they were doing and how much improved they were. They showed me–they stopped doing work until they weren’t doing so well. Doing well sometimes gets associated with being a loser, or being uncool, which is so middle school, but sometimes it hangs around high schools, too.
My strategy is two-fold. One reason I’m creating extra work for myself is that I want them to pass. Even though they don’t deserve it, based on the work they have turned in, there has to be that level of osmosis learning. Unless they have completely closed off their hearing, something has to have seeped in, right?
The other reason is to compete with the new Turks out there–the online schools, or Opportunities for Learning, or El Camino College, or anyone I don’t know about. Quite the worry these days in education, or so I hear, is that schools are losing students to these new forms of education. Losing students equals losing teachers, which is no fun.
Schools whine. They try to bully students into taking courses again. Can you imagine getting a D (a passing grade) in a class one semester and, because of a school’s a-g eligibility percentage greed, taking the entire class over again to raise your grade to make the school look better? Because if you have a D, you probably have a C (or two, or three, or more) and those Cs, though they make one a-g eligible, aren’t going to get you into many 4-yr schools.
They also try to question the validity of this online or packet-driven “education.” Word on the street is that some districts won’t even allow the classes from these schools. That doesn’t seem right, since all the schools I’ve seen online look like they have all their boxes ticked for approval. Yes, they are new and don’t require 159 hours of seat time per class like some districts, but they seem like they’re working out for kids. It’s the districts and schools that they aren’t working for.
So, I’m making mastery packets for my kids today. They will cover reading, writing, listening, and speaking, and will not be easy. I have never done this before. However, despite my advanced age and desire to leave teaching sooner than later, I can still create material that fits my students needs. Am I selling out? Maybe. Am I dumbing it down? Ha. Don’t even get me started on that one. I’ll only write that in a world of essential questions and Socratic seminars–“I agree with Skippy, who makes a valid point that I agree with, even though I didn’t even check out the book . . .”–I still give tests, and the results, which are reading-based, are not very pretty.
But, since students can now go to these other “schools,” why not create some competition? They will probably end up doing the same work per packet, plus they have 140+ hours of seat time already. The bottom line is always the same, no matter what we do in the shadows–it’s on them.

See you Tuesday, school. While other teachers and students are already out of high school for summer, I’ll be back in three days. Then I’ll see you for another 19. Then I’ll see you next year. Then we’ll see how that goes.
I knew a 3-day weekend was coming so I didn’t do homework for a few days. Guess what I got going this weekend? Not only am I stubborn when it comes to showing up to school, I am more stubborn when it comes to posting grades. You had those teachers in school–the ones where you never knew what your grade was, you did some work at the end, and then you ended up with a grade you didn’t want. I don’t EVER want to be that teacher, and I’m not. I usually update grades about as quickly as the NASDAQ updates trades. It just makes things easier for everyone, and doesn’t take that much extra effort.
I’ll watch some bad movies, though. I’ll relax. Grading will get done. Maybe some more room cleaning in preparation for a quick summer escape (I wrote “summer,” people–don’t get excited). Hang out with the boy and wife. That is the bad rub of being the Iron Man of attendance and grade updating. It’s the opportunity cost of teaching. You give up something somewhere else.
Our eight days of block schedule is over and, despite the lack of break time, I like it. My students didn’t. It’s different. They think two hours is a long time, which it is, but it also prepares them for college a little. They don’t meet every day in the same class, homework gets done often in class, and science and art teachers (and anyone else) can do things that aren’t constrained by a 53-minute class. Plus, you have to do SOMETHING during that time, so you better have some options.
After Monday there are no more breaks. Some will argue that summer is a break, but there are always things that draw us back to school. School!!! Why am I still writing? Let the weekend begin. https://youtu.be/G5mtsnM9WNM

I’m sick. My body is tired and my head is filled with mucus. My ears are stuffed and my eyes are itchy. My back hurts a little. When rain comes, or it gets fairly cloudy, my knee starts to ache a bit. But I’m stubborn.
I want to take a day off. Every day I work keeps my body from healing, but that darned stubborness tells me that this is my job, that I have a 180-day plan, and taking a day off for my little ailments equals mental weakness. In my 17+, almost 18 years of teaching at North High, I have taken around 35 sick days, which I don’t even think is the number. Of course I think it’s lower. And I do know that I have not missed a day this year.
My father raised me this way. I remember him being sick and going to work. I remember him cursing the freeways and his fellow “workers” almost daily. I don’t remember him complaining about pay, and I never have either. In teaching, you are told what you get paid from day one, so quit you’re whining.
For the most part, I still like my job, though I’m not sure how much he liked his. Doesn’t really matter now, I suppose.
What I never know is what other teachers think, or how they play out the string, if you will. I don’t know if their heads are filled with school, students, lesson plans, work that must be graded, battles they face daily. Do they sleep well? Does their mind swim? Are they writing lessons in their dreams at 4 in the morning? Are they thinking of email responses to the daily battles while the sun works its way past the blinds?
I’m not taking tomorrow off. I’m stubborn, and I teach. All that crap that goes along with the job has this magical way of going away once the year ends. Each mile that I put between the South Bay and Montana is a clearer breath, clearer head, and a fish waiting to be caught. Dreams no longer feature my classroom or students. My new surroundings feature movies, loud music, good food, and good people.
20 days left. Be stubborn, fellow teachers. https://youtu.be/kzD18q0-Tq0

My son is 13 today. I remember when he was 12. As a matter of fact, it seems like it was just yesterday.
I’m not sure how the history books will remember my wife and me as parents, but I’m happy with many of the approaches we’ve adopted, and of the kid he has become. I’m a little pissed that he’s starting to know more than I do–especially about history–but it’s fun seeing someone (hell, anyone) still interested in knowledge.
But, man, 13. I was a know-it-all, bragadocious ass at 13. Thank goodness that time has humbled me so, but I hope Anton avoids the many sarcastic, eye-rolling, “you-don’t-know-anything” moments that came out of me once or twice.
So far, so good. He doesn’t mind trying things, entering new circles, owning his rock, and is probably in the top percent of travelers out there. 16-hour drive to Montana, in the back seat, listening to radio or Mom and Dad talk? Nothing. 11-hour flights to Dublin? Child’s play. Of course, one of our great parenting techniques (I can only share SO many) is giving him the incentive of pulled pork after a long drive, or maybe a nice hotel with a pool. Like an incentive.
He’s taught us a lot about education, about what we want for him. Perhaps he’s the reason my wife and I feel the way we do about it now–we actually have some skin in the game. We moved out of the school district we teach in so he could go to a neighboring one (one that has no trouble with enrollment, like I hear many districts in the area are having). I have written previously about his school’s energy on Back to School night and am happy we chose to move, as it was a decision for him. Yeah, he writes summaries in honors classes, and there doesn’t seem to be much homework, but why do people want homework if the kid is learning something?
I wish Anton luck in the upcoming years because my wife and I always are light years ahead of the times when it comes to spotting certain trends. We may not be able to call the next fashion trend, or tell you who will be at the top of the music charts, or even the bestseller’s list, BUT we do know the deal with education these days. And, we have a 13-yr-old, soon to be an 8th-grader.
Mark this down–high school goes on too long, keeping kids in seats for 720 days for seven hours a day. Students need to learn other things. Just saw a former student graduated from Cal. She graduated a year early from high school. Another former student who left after his junior year spent one year at El Camino and will be at Cal next year, as a junior. Did you follow that? He should be a first-year freshman next year, but he’ll be a junior at Cal.
We teach school. We look at Anton. Luckily, thanks to the changing landscape of education, we have options.
Happy birthday, boy. You share your birthday with two people in my life that left this world too soon, and one of them was your biggest champion. I’m sure she would wonder how on Earth you got to 13 so darned fast, too.
Tonight, we feast in your honor.

So, what happens when a school has a bunch of permit kids (a student who has a home district, but has been given the chance to learn at another school in a different district) that aren’t performing? What happens when these permit kids stop passing classes, or make themselves a-g ineligible by getting a D or F? Oh, and what happens when enrollment is down in the district and to send a chunk of kids back to their home school would mean losing a teacher?
Quite the questions. It comes down to a couple of philosophies, I would guess. One requires the learning establishment to take a stand, have a brand, and not worry about losing teachers if it means keeping the integrity of the school. The other philosophy threatens students that they better get those scores up, lets the bad grades slide a little, but keeps kids and teachers.
Quite the philosophies. One loses teachers. My first teaching job was initially cut short because of declining enrollment, so I know how that works and feels. However, it’s hard to sell your school to good students when word gets out that many kids in classes have a D or F and drag down the learning. Because that’s the other side of it all–if you let it slide a little, it might slide a lot, and classes are left with a bunch of kids that aren’t from the area, aren’t getting good grades, aren’t buying in to the culture, and aren’t adding to the greatness of a school.
So, what would one do in that situation? Do you pass kids along with a C? It’s not like kids who get a few C’s are going to get into Harvard, but maybe that grade will be the impetus the student needs to turn things around. Some have even suggested that we eliminate the D, making the class almost a PASS/FAIL option. The problem with that, though, is that a D is a passing grade. A student could easily graduate from high school with a 1.0 GPA. Impressive, yeah?
If I’ve learned anything from movies, sports, or teaching, or teaching movies, the most successful mentors, teachers, and coaches were always ones with their vision–call it somewhere along the lines of “my way or the highway.” There used to be this wrestling coach at our school. His program, his rules, his work ethic. The wrestlers never lost. Ever. When he left, the wrestlers lost a few, then lost more. The wrestling team went from CIF champs every year to not a peep in the last years. He now coaches at a junior college that wins all the time. It’s not a coincidence.
Sadly, it starts with a philosophy. And that philosophy starts at the top–from teachers, to counselors, to the dean, administration, and even the district folk. Kids come and go. That’s cyclical. But if you put out a viable product, people will come.
There’s a reason Woolworth and Montgomery Ward and Mervyn’s don’t exist. There’s a reason Penney’s and Sears’ struggle. All of those businesses had the mindset of the old days, when they first started out. That’s the past, and the present has, and will, roll right on past these businesses.
I guess those hypothetical schools and districts I wrote about here should look into In-n-Out High School, or Trader Joe’s Elementary. Everyone’s always happy there, they seem pretty busy, and, even though the names would be tough to swallow, their products would not be.

Blink has been an interesting book to read. I’ve read it with my Honors sophomore English classes, and it can’t be like anything they’ve read before. Well, at least not in an English class. But the deal with Common Core, or one of the deals, is the idea of introducing more non-fiction to kids. Blink definitely ticks that box.
Some kids might know the author Malcolm Gladwell. Okay, they don’t, but he does put himself out there. I see him on talk shows, he has a web page, he writes a ton of books, and some should have heard of Outliers, which is fairly popular in its many circles. Our district has ordered enough of Gladwell’s books because each grade level is supposed to read a different one.
I have to believe that almost all my students think of non-fiction as some sort of biography or autobiography, maybe something historical that takes a different point of view to something of previous knowledge. But Blink has had many moments that talk of the human condition, of science, of the way we see the world in the blink of an eye (hence the title). It’s been interesting, even if eight of my students are yet to check out the book. It’s also anecdotal, so even though it’s something they may not be used to textually, they can make the connections.
I read Chapter Three this weekend, which was about Warren Harding. Gladwell, and others, claimed that he was so good-looking, carried himself so well, and nodded and smiled at the right times, that he just HAD to end up being President. Fellow colleague Bryce Hadley has argued this point (as have I) when it comes to star athletes and CEO’s of companies–they’re mostly good-looking people. Go on, think of all those ugly, high-performing professional athletes. I’ll give you a minute or two, for the list will not be that long.
Yeah, but then I thought about teaching, and what a teacher looks like. Or the way a teacher acts in class, or how they grade, or what they know, or what they do when they’re not teaching. There is one area where teachers are pretty similar–many like to spend their time during breaks away from school travelling this fine world. In that sense, many of us share a like desire.
I was told in college that I had a 2% teacher chance, based on personality and whatever else. That sounds about right. I believe in showing up on time, never taking sick days, confusing my students, and whatever other blah blah blah I do in class that keeps kids signing up en masse every year, always with more students signed up than I have a place for in seats. Maybe every school needs that 2%-er to be the “other” choice for students.
But what do teachers look like? Are they all the Warren Hardings of the world? I see a lot of tired people, but I suppose we all don’t have to be President. We just have to be competent, the highest rating our district gives us. Maybe a politician can pick up on that and run–Strength in Competence.
Oh, and maybe a song to go with it.

I love the idea of block schedules. They’re pretty awesome in the sense that you get a lot done in the one day you’re there, homework can be done over the next two days, and then you see the students again after a day off without them. However, there’s a catch to block schedule, at least at our school, and maybe our district.
I had three classes today. The classes are an hour and fifty-nine minutes. Eight minutes for snack, 31 minutes for lunch. There were so many things going on today that I did not leave my classroom until the end of the day. Kids asked about speeches, essays, late work–I barely finished my lunch. And, yes, I know it’s my time, and some teachers keep students out of their rooms during snack and lunch, but kids are safe in my room (enough written there). Five hours and fifty-seven minutes of classes, no breaks, constant students.
I went to the bathroom when I got home. Don’t care if that’s too much info.
These were our first four days of block schedule, something we do during state testing. We’ll have four more of these days next week. Teachers sometimes complain about how long the classes are–and they are one minute shy of two hours–but something happens in that setting. The students tend to settle in. They might go to the bathroom here and there, but they just kind of hunker down and get things done. I think they run out of steam. It’s almost as if they might want to be bad, but doing anything for that long is just too tiring. And that ends up being pretty nice, except for the gentle nudging of desks to wake kids up.
There’s still the issue of how to fill two hours with viable curriculum. All my classes were claiming that many film festivals are present during this time. Some may find this a bad deal, but Common Core wants us to look at forms of media, and the extra time in class means you don’t have to rush, can pause and discuss–it’s not such a bad thing. Next week, I’ll be watching One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest with my students. We’ll talk about similarities and differences from book to movie, among other things. If kids read the book, we’ll have even more to talk about.
Teachers and students complain about block schedule–“Oh, I have to have my worst class for two hours. Whatever will I do?” You’ll adapt and adjust. You’ll put out a two-hour product. If not, it’s on you, for you did NOT own your rock.
Finally, the time is free. Let May 19th, 2017, go into the record books as a day when all of our dead relatives (for most have passed) can share in the joy that brought us to this day. If there is such a thing as Magical Realism, where the spirit world lives among us in a non-scary, no-big-deal kind of way, I hope every one in our families can raise a glass tonight and understand that, even though we worked our asses off over the years, the time being free didn’t come without your efforts, too. Whatever celebration we have tonight will be shared with you.
Oh, and Hell, Yeah.

Already, you should understand that this will be a short post.
But, there are only 24 days left in school (five weeks after tomorrow), I have some great students who I wish only the best, and, at my age, I know who I am, the world and its machinations, and what is real v. what is illusion.
Last year, my wife had a Post-It on her computer. It read Be Grateful, Nod and Smile, and Let Me Check My Calendar. Be Grateful does not fit with the other two, but I’m sure some could argue differently. I am grateful that I got to work with someone of my wife’s caliber for 17 years. My students still speak of how much they miss her and how much they learned in her Speech class. She was really good at what she did, but I’m sure some would argue differently.
I do what I do at school for my students. Every day that is compromised. Oh, wait, I was focusing on the positive. Told you it would be a short one.

I missed my first day of school for this year. Gillian Hart, the APN kids, and I went down to the Port of Los Angeles for the day on a field trip. We got a boat tour of the port, took a quick side trip to the Japanese Fishing Village Memorial, and finished off with a tour of the Port’s command center. Despite the rumor that APN is just like any other class at North High, we didn’t bump into any of our fellow teachers or students today. Maybe they’re going at a later date.
The tour of the port is the tour of the port–I’ve done it for enough years that it’s no big deal. Plus, of all the commerce and economics and history that the tour involves, kids are most interested by the . . . sea lions. That’s when the cameras really come out. Still, many liked seeing the outline of Catalina, some asked me what was in the shipping containers, while others just sat back and enjoyed.
The Japanese Fishing Village Memorial is so quick you would just drive right by it. There are signs,it’s right down in the port area, and it represents a horrible part of our country’s history where we took a Japanese fishing village, shipped the people off to camps, then stole their land and property. Sound familiar. Of extra importance was one of our students finding her grandparent’s name on the Memorial’s wall.
The Port’s command center is a big deal, too. The person who showed us around is the mother of a student at our school and has been a great host for the last two years. Because of an actual incident today, we weren’t allowed in some rooms, as our country’s safety outweighs our trip. But, we did get to see many things, and listen to many people, all of them very professional, and all of them who spoke to our students as if they were people. No lectures, no talking down to them. Our students were apprised of the situation at the port, that they would have to behave a certain way, and that was that.
Everything went smoothly.
Okay, everything didn’t really go smoothly. Despite the South Bay being pretty easy to navigate, our bus drivers had to have us tell them where to go. Wrong turns, going back over bridges, then back over the same bridges, heading east instead of west . . . maybe I should be a bus driver in my august years. Our driver was nice, but I felt like I was doing two jobs when navigating our bus.
What did our kids do while we saw more of the city than we needed to? They sang. They did karaoke. They laughed and smiled a lot. They hung out. Things did not go smoothly because of outside circumstances, but no one would have ever known. As they have done every place off campus, our students represented APN, North High, and our North community in a positive manner with no complaints.
For the win? A former APN student subbed for my 6th period class today. We were happy to see one another, she tamed my students for nearly two hours, and they are now “angels.” Winning.