Disclaimer: This post is definitely not meant to be a gripe. And I sure-as-heck do not want to spark the slippery discussion about how teachers are paid — truly, I don’t wish to go there. Nor do I desire to discuss WHY teachers get into the profession in the first place.1 This is just a “random”2 thought I had whilst catching up with a former student at our high school’s graduation last night.
I’ve had two former students — on two separate occasions — recently ask me about my move to a new school next fall:
“Are you getting paid more over there?”
And that’s cute. =)
Because if you’re a teacher and/or know how teacher pay scales work, you understand: That’s not the way it works.
But that’s the funny thing.
The reason that question even gets asked is because that sort of thinking — that a horizontal move elsewhere somehow equates to a bump in salary — actually makes sense almost everywhere else in the “real world”.
As final exams wrap up, and all of the life begins to leave the room, and the lights get turned out for the last time, the finality of it all begins to sink in, and things can actually get a bit… sad.
Until it dawns on us that we’re finally FREE and not actually sad. =)1
This week our seniors will walk the stage and officially embark on the rest of their lives. Earlier this month, many of the students that I taught as sophomores in Algebra II during my first full year2 walked the stage at their college graduations. The flow of time gets speedier as we age, indeed.
The above shot was taken on Tuesday, May 29, 2012.3 That was at the end of a wonderful three-year arc which took me through Algebra II (regular and Pre-AP), Geometry, Precalculus, and — finally — AP Statistics. Thanks to that trek, more than a third4 of the students in my classes that year were “stuck”5 with me for a second — or even a third6 — time. But having some of those students for multiple years allowed for some really special times,7 and as such, having to watch that year finally wind down to a close was rather difficult.89
This year is also a tough one to close out, for obvious reasons. Even on the first day of school, I could already tell that I had been blessed with an extremely special cast of characters. Ironically, though, when you feel like you’ve had maybe the best group of students that you’re ever going to get,10 that almost makes it easier for you to say to yourself: “It can’t get any better than this… now’s the time to walk off into the sunset.”
Perhaps the toughest part of leaving for a new campus is personally knowing some of the students that you’re leaving behind. In recent weeks, I’ve had about a half-dozen of them come by my classroom or stop me in the hallways to introduce themselves, and tell me how excited they were to be taking my class next year.11 I’ve had to fake a few smiles, fully knowing — sadly — that they would not be in my class next year. (This was all in the timeframe after I had finalized my transfer to a new campus, but BEFORE I wanted to break the news to any of my students12 )
One of the luxuries I’ve enjoyed for the past five or six years is that many of the students that walk into my classroom on opening day already know who I am, and — thanks to word-of-mouth and such — know what I’m about. I’m reminded of the old theme song from “Cheers” — “sometime you wanna go where everybooody knows your naaaaaaame”. Well that’s another tough thing about starting over in a new locale: I am literally going to a place where nobody knows my name.13
I don’t have a dog. But if I had a dog, even my DOG would tell you that I watch too much television. But my favorite TV show the past few years has been “White Collar”,14 and on an episode15 right before the protagonists take off for the Canary Islands, there’s a moment where Mozzie asks Neal if he’s ready to leave everything behind. Neal’s reply was a poignant, “I can always walk out that door, Moz. I can never walk back in.” Of course, Mozzie — being Mozzie — retorts by channeling his inner Orson Welles: “If you want a happy ending, it depends, of course, on where you stop your story.”
A few days after I told my students that I would not be returning next year, one of my most respectable kids came up to me near the end of class and said the following:
So… you’re going over there to teach Stat… but you teach Stat here. And [some] kids here sign up for AP Stat so that they can have you… … [insert slight pause] … and that kinda sucks for them. Do you just not care about any of them?16
And honestly, that kinda sucked the air out of me for a few hours. :( 17 But this just goes to show:
Even if the situation is right and the timing is perfect, saying goodbye is never easy.
Every Summer I try to embark on a “clear-my-head-before-the-new-season” trip.18Teachers need to travel.19
One of the things I spend time considering over the summer20 is a personal theme for the upcoming school year, which is usually a cheesy little moniker or catchphrase that — on a personal level — sums up my feelings for the campaign.
Next year will be “Season 8”, and while it normally takes some time of reflection for me to arrive at an appropriate title for the season,21 this one almost seemed too easy:
Right after the end of “Season 5”. This was actually taken the day after the last day of school. For those not aware, teachers actually have to come back after the last day of school for a mandatory day of work (or three, as it is this year — thanks to all of the snow-free ice days that we endured back in January), and in my opinion this is sometimes the toughest day of the year. [↩]
and while I put the word “stuck” in quotations in jest, I’m sure some of those kids genuinely felt like they got STUCK with me. [↩]
Two truly blessed students had me all three of those years, from Fall 2009 to Spring 2012 [↩]
On the flip-side, it’s true what they say about familiarity breeding contempt… towards the end of that year some of those students were not afraid to let loose with their attitudes after having me twice. [↩]
2011-12 was the year where 106 of our students took the AP Exam, with 103 earning at least a “passing” score. Numbers that good are never going to happen again. But as I’ve said before, the numbers on the AP Exam should not be the single most important thing about teaching an AP class. [↩]
Season 5 was such a tough act to follow. I remember how coming back the following August felt a bit anticlimactic, and getting off of the ground was difficult. [↩]
or perhaps, tied for maybe the best group with every other class of students that I’ve ever had… teachers don’t have favorites of course. [↩]
This actually happens a lot. Which, I think is weird, because honestly, I really don’t think I’m THAT great, but okay… whatever. :shrug: [↩]
I didn’t want students finding out about my impending move until after the AP Exam on May 9, which was a full week after the fact. [↩]
But honestly, those kids will all be fine. They’ll have another very capable teacher and everything will be just fine. [↩]
However, it was nice to find out that this kid thought well of me. That’s one of the things with teaching smart kids: You never know if they like you or if they think you’re a total tool bag (and it’s really nice when you find out that they don’t think that you’re a complete tool bag!) I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been surprised to get a note at the end of the year from a kid that was relatively quiet, telling me how much they enjoyed the year – I’m always like, “WHAT that kid actually liked me?!?” [↩]
which, this year is looking to involve Nessy and Stonehenge [↩]
which in some cases I don’t even come up with until AFTER the year is over [↩]
Well. This is THE END of this blog (or at least the current chapter of). As such, here’s one miscellaneous detail that never really found its way into any of my blog posts: my 404 page — which even the most vicious of blog-creepers have probably never seen — will tell you that I’m a big BIG fan of Chris Nolan. Cannot wait for “Interstellar” later this year. Oh, and with regards to the last picture above, yes, I know, the actual title of the movie is “How To Train YOUR Dragon”, but just go with it. Oh, and if you’re still scratching your head: the mascot at my new school is a dragon. [↩]
It honestly just blows my mind that we’ve come so far, so fast.
Occasionally at this point in the year, students tend to leave tokens of their appreciation,1 sometimes in writing, sometimes in drawings, and sometimes sprawling all up over my whiteboards. Here are some of the more memorable end-of-year mémoires2that I’ve managed to capture over the first seven-and-a-half:
This last week of classes usually consists of SERIOUS study time for students as they prep for final exams.
Occasionally, however, students will take the opportunity to sign yearbooks. And socialize. Or play cards. Or anything that does not involve doing actual work. You get the idea.
Six years ago, at the tail-end of Season One, my 1st period Pre-AP Algebra II class introduced me to one of the most entertaining distractions ever concocted:
I distinctly remember the kids in that class convincing me to play the game on the big projector screen, to which I thought, “what the heck, why not.”
If you have never played the game,1 let me tell you, it earns its moniker: It is crazy impossible. Students had to delicately walk me through the first 18 questions. Then came the following gem, question 19:
The hint is the phrase on the painting that reads “BOGGY”. This requires the player to take the mouse and click on the paint buckets with the colors spelled out by that acronym: Blue-Orange-Green-Green-Yellow. After having that much explained to me, I looked at the class like an overly-confident n00b and proudly proclaimed,
“I got this”.
I proceeded to click on the bottom-right paint bucket, which is blue, of course.
Well, at least it LOOKS blue if you’re colorblind.
This is the very next thing that everyone in that class saw:
After hearing a few scattered gasps of “oh what just happened”, I recall all 30 students looking at me with puzzled looks of bewilderment, and when they realized what had just happened,2 everyone had a good laugh, and then proceeded to go back to working on their final exam reviews.
I’m not sure why I suddenly recall this fun moment from my first full year of teaching, but it just goes to show that often it is the moments that have nothing to do with teaching math that we remember years on down the road.
If you’re on a computer with Flash, try it here… otherwise, there is an iOS app on the app store, but it’s not free. Uber-kudos if you can even make it to #19. [↩]
Yes, they all knew I was colorblind, as it came up in a probability lesson in April. [↩]
I’m going to buy some glitter and THROW it at you. (When I asked “why glitter”…) Because glitter sticks to you and no matter how hard you try to clean it off, it’ll still be there. So when you see the glitter on your skin and clothes, you’ll be reminded of the day that I threw glitter at you.7
And this is probably the last time I will mention the “Divaz”:8
Earlier this week as I was taking attendance, I noticed that “Diva #3” was absent. I asked her friends if they knew where she was, and two of her co-divas responded almost simultaneously:
Diva #1: Today’s her birthday so she’s shopping all day. Diva #2: She’s sick today.
This is what friends are for.
This is from a student I had never before met, and is graduating this year, to boot. [↩]
This one tugged at my heart a little bit, not gonna lie. [↩]
This one required some premeditation, I think. [↩]
On a side note, I asked students to sign my yearbook this week, and three of the divas did so. What impressed me was that next to their names, they signed as “diva #1” “diva #2” and “diva #3” — and they all signed as the correct diva number, based on this post. Funny! [↩]