In previous years, I have felt like a moody, hormonal, pregnant bovine1 in the days leading up to the AP exam.

The following is a list of thoughts that have actually gone through my head at this point in previous campaigns:

• “Do all of my calculators have fresh batteries?”2
• “What if the box of AP exams catches on fire? There go the last 10 months of my hard work…”3
• “Why aren’t more students showing up to ask questions during tutorials?!? They don’t ALL know EVERYHING…”4
• “What if the AP exams get lost in transit on the way back to College Board? There go the last 10 months of my life…”5
• “Why does senioritis have to be an actual thing? Can’t some biotech company come up with a free cure that would eradicate it forever?”6
• “If my students don’t do well on the exam, my superiors are going to regret ever trusting me to teach the class…”
• “I really hope they don’t put a question on the free-response over that one thing that I wish I had spent more time on…”7
• “What if a student does something idiotic in the testing room and gets everyone’s score cancelled?8 There goes the last year of my life…“
• “I can’t wait until the AP exam is over… then I can go back to feeling like a normal living human being. Then I’ll be able to sleep at night again.”9

Truth be told, now that it’s my 4th rodeo, I am feeling almost none of the above thoughts this time around. I do NOT feel like a zombie. Nor do I feel like a pregnant cow. 10 I can sleep at night, and I remember the taste of food.11

On the first day of class, when I ask students if “99” is a “good number” to them and to introduce themselves and explain why, the overarching theme is that a single number by itself is almost meaningless. Last year, I had to allow myself to be reminded that such is true with AP exam scores: At the end of all days, it is just another number.12

Curious to know what some teenagers are going through this week?13 I actually have a handful of students that are currently running the following gauntlet:

• AP Chemistry Exam, Monday morning
• AP Calculus Exam, Wednesday morning
• AP English Lit,14 Thursday morning OR AP English Language,15 Friday morning
• AP Statistics, Friday afternoon161718
• AP Physics, Monday afternoon19

1. a.k.a., a cow. Yes, a moo-cow. [↩]
2. I check out some of my yellow class TI-84’s on exam day, as not all of my students have one — and you really want an 84, not an 83 in Stat. [↩]
3. Seriously. Back in Season 5 — May 2012 — I was scared to death that something crazy like this might occur and totally ruin my life. I can readily admit: the exam meant too much to me that year. [↩]
4. Though some would see this as a blessing. I’m sure it’s because I’m such an awesome teacher that nobody has any questions. Mmmmmm hmm. No, that’s not it. [↩]
5. Again, the kind of thing that was going through my head in 2012. [↩]
6. Sigh. One can dream. Except for the “free” part. That one word puts this item in “neeeeeeeeeeeeeeveeeer gonna happen” territory. [↩]
7. Last year, that one thing was simulations. Made special worksheets and activities for it… but decided not to do them. Thought we’d be okay without. Hate to be on the wrong side of prophetic, but… that came back to bite us a little. [↩]
8. To this end, we actually used to collect every students’ cell phone on the morning of the exam and return them afterwards… but now that almost everyone has a $600 smartphone, this becomes difficult from a practicality standpoint. [↩]
9. Because, again, I feel like a zombified pregnant mummy-moo-cow at this time of the year. Incidentally I wanted to find a picture of a zombie-cow for this post, but… no dice just kidding – found one! [↩]
10. Though with the new nearby Whole Foods and their self-serve barbecue… [↩]
11. You know, “Lord of the Rings: Return of the King”, that scene where Sam and Frodo are on the rock right before Sam carries Frodo and the ring gets destroyed… [↩]
12. No, I am not saying I don’t care about how my students do on the AP exam. I do care. But I also think that most students benefit more from getting a year of exposure to statistics while in high school before heading out to college than from just a single score on an exam. On the other hand, if a student makes a 3 or 4 on the exam and thus NEVER has to take another math class for as long as they live… well that’s a pretty sweet deal as well. [↩]
13. #1stworldproblems, I know. [↩]
14. for seniors [↩]
15. for juniors [↩]
16. Yes, this means my 11th graders are taking BACK-TO-BACK AP EXAMS. Or, as they like to put it, 7 hours of writing exams. Oh by the way, the Statistics AP Exam is much more writing than it is math. [↩]
17. Have I mentioned how much I LOVE having our AP exam on Friday afternoon? If you’re not a teacher, let me impart this piece of wisdom upon you: Friday afternoon is the worst possible time to schedule a major exam of any type. [↩]
18. I actually had a student suggest that we just order pizza and throw a post-AP-exam party in my classroom on Friday evening. lol [↩]
19. this is the following Monday, just FYI. [↩]

The single worst day of my teaching career?

It was four years ago this Friday.1

Valentine’s day weekend.

The last day of the 4th six weeks.

The day of the rational functions test in Pre-AP Algebra II.

Here’s a near-absolute truth about any math class on Earth:

The 4th six weeks is the hardest.

I estimate that some of it has to do with the fact that it immediately follows Winter Break2 and that it takes kids — like adults — some time for their brain functions to defrost.

But of all the math classes that I have taught3 the January-through-mid-February stretch of Algebra II was the toughest.4

2009-20105 was my third year of teaching Pre-AP Algebra II6 and great efforts were made each successive year to refine the course to perfection. But the end of the 4th six weeks that year was one of those “we’re trying to squeeze more juice out of the orange and there’s no more juice to be squeezed out” moments.

Here’s the short version: I can’t deal with crying students. 7

That afternoon, a parade of my Pre-AP Algebra II students came by after school to see their tests,8 and no fewer than 3 of them break down in tears on the spot.9

For any prospective teachers out there: That is NOT the way you want to go home on a Friday afternoon.

I still to this day remember distinctly when one of the kids saw the 50-something on her paper,10 looked up at me in tears11 and managed to stammer,

That’s IT. I give up. I can’t do this anymore.

And then she walked out. 12

Then I looked to my left and right, and there were yet two other kids that were crying. One of them had to leave for the ladies’ room to compose herself, then came back to look over her exam. 13

I realized then that sometimes, more than anything, our students really just want to hear us tell them that they’re doing things right.

As adults, when the cracks start to show, teachers sometimes have responsibilities that go outside of simply being instructors of the academics.

Sometimes I’m surprised by the degree to which some of these kids are afraid to disappoint us.14 For any figure of authority, the art of being able to strike the right balance between pushing too hard and not pushing hard enough is an impossibly difficult tightrope act. I don’t know how parents manage it. 15

After a tumultuous three-week stretch peppered with ice days (sans any real ice), AP Stat finally makes the transition from proportions to means this next week. There are only two more major exams this year. That kinda blows my mind to think that things have flown by so quickly.

On the horizon: Chocolate chips per cookie and flying frogs.

1. which in 2010, was February 12. [↩]
2. combined with the fact that January is when the toughest material of any math course comes to bear [↩]
3. to date: Algebra I, Geometry, Regular Algebra II Pre-AP Algebra II, Precal, Stat, and AP Stat [↩]
4. The on-level course used to include the rational root theorem and the hellish innards of higher-order polynomial functions, while the Pre-AP flavor encompassed logarithms and rational functions — which included slant and parabolic asymptotes that year. [↩]
5. or “season 3”, as I like to refer to it [↩]
6. it was also my last [↩]
7. Funny story? The very first time I had to deal with a crying kid was my 2nd year of — again — Pre-AP Algebra II. Kid came in with her mom to see her first test of the year, and she immediately broke down sobbing and weeping. I actually tried explaining domain and range to her while she was choking on her tears, it was REALLY awkward. That moment scarred me. Scarred me for years. Well a year or so later, I ran into that same student and brought that up, and she said to me, “Oh yeah. I only cried so that I wouldn’t get in trouble with my mom.” -_- [↩]
8. which, to be honest, was maybe a bit more difficult than was intended. We actually posted a note about a re-test on home access for the following Monday morning before school, and I personally had about 25 of my students show up for it [↩]
9. and maybe another one or two that suddenly ran out of the room as quickly as possible to cry outside [↩]
10. which caused her to fail the six weeks [↩]
11. and for context, this was not a kid that I would classify as remotely overly-emotional [↩]
12. She came back on Monday morning after meeting with her tutor, and passed the re-test. Which I’m thankful for because at that moment on Friday, *I* almost wanted to cry. It was bad. [↩]
13. Apparently she called her mother to vent/cry, and two years later at open house, her mother shared with me about that conversation… I won’t go into all of the details but it was a heart-warming moment. [↩]
14. On the flip-side, we also have students that act like they couldn’t give a flip WHO they disappoint. Sigh. [↩]
15. A part of me hates that that was the last time I got to teach Pre-AP Algebra II. But I did get another year with many of those students in Precal the next year, and again in AP Stat the year after that [↩]

This past month, I went skiing in Steamboat, Colorado for 3 glorious days. But having not been since circa 2005, I found it… difficult at first, to find my legs1.

During the 2nd day, I sat in the cafe at Thunderhead Lodge, gulping down a pair of $4.30 Powerades, hoping for the throbbing in my right hamstring to subside, desperately trying to catch my breath, and sharing a table with a nice family from Boston. They asked me how it was, skiing for the first time in 8 years or so… and when I told them that it was “a lot more painful than I remember”, they laughed… but understood. The mother then said something that I now find poignant:

It’s so much more difficult when you’re trying to be cautious about everything. When you’re younger and less fearful to try new things, and feeling more adventurous, it’s so much easier.

For much of the first day and a half2, I was inundated with thoughts of “good gosh, why won’t my skis move the way I want them to” and “is this what getting old feels like” and “why do I keep sliding down the hill headfirst on my back” and finally — upon making it down the mountain — “I have no idea how I made it down the hill but I’m not really sure I can survive that again”.

Sigh. 3

Skiing-wise, I finally managed to find my rhythm — albeit, not until day 3 — when I remembered that I did, in fact, know how to ski, and that I had no rational reason to go pizza all the way down the hill. After that, it was like angels and sunlight peaking through the clouds in a heavenly chorus. Of course, the getaway to the mountains was all-around glorious, nonetheless.

Much like a 3-day ski trip, life is too short to allow self-doubt to creep in to screw up the ride.

And that’s the thing. Sometimes it’s all mental.

That is not to say, however, that a mental “block” is an insignificant obstacle.

Maybe it’s just the struggle of coming back from winter break, but that is how I find myself feeling as I stare down the barrel of the 2nd week of the semester.

For whatever reason, I’ve had these thoughts every evening of “I don’t actually know if I’m good enough (of a teacher) to make it through tomorrow”. Every. Day. This. Entire. Week.

Of course, this first week back was wonderful.4 Any fears that it would be otherwise were not at all rational… but emotionally-driven fears rarely are.

Three of us on the ski trip were teachers, and while commiserating during one of the evenings, we all agreed: We all truly enjoy what we do… but our jobs are hard.

I do believe — and I always have — that a number of aspects of our jobs as teachers get more difficult — not less — as we become wiser about our craft.

It is Sunday evening as I type this5, and, yes, I’m scared of tomorrow. I remember earlier in my teaching years when I not only looked forward to Mondays (which I still do), but when I was also not remotely afraid of them either (which for some reason, I now am, remotely). At times this week I’ve felt like that pilot in “Top Gun” that flipped out mid-flight and voluntarily turned in his wings after stating that he’d “lost his edge”.

As if I’m skiing scared.

Alas… it is a 38 week campaign, and we all know there will be days like these.

1. and my lungs, and my rhythm, basically my entire skiing mojo [↩]
2. especially after painfully eating it repeatedly on the blues on Saturday morning [↩]
3. By the way. Aging stinks. Skip 8 years of skiing/boarding and try going in your thirties, if you’d like to see for yourself. [↩]
4. Well… aside from the fact that my brain felt glazed over and half-asleep and three steps slow until Friday afternoon… [↩]
5. Downton Abbey is on, which, by the way, I think may have no more than one season of life left in it. [↩]

Monday, September 11, 2006. Anderson High. Seven years ago, today.

That was my first day of teaching, ever.1

It was a day when I honestly had no idea if I would be any good at this.2

The previous Tuesday, on my first day of observing3 the Algebra students who would make-or-break my slightly uncertain foray into the world of teaching, I was sitting in the back during passing period and a few of the rascals were making fun of Steve Irwin (the “crocodile hunter”) — who had been tragically killed by a stingray over the Labor Day weekend. They were saying things like, “He was dumb!” and “I’m glad the stingray killed him!”4 and I remember thinking to myself, “My gosh these kids are monsters, and they’re gonna destroy me. -_-“

I’m HAPPY for the stingray!

So on that 11th — the first Monday — as I was introducing myself to that 2nd period class, heart in my stomach, while passing out a stack of worksheets, one of the kids — who struck me as the “queen bee” type — raised her hand and asked, “Wait, does this mean you’re gonna be our teacher?” I thought to myself, “Yup. This is where they destroy me.” When I explained that yes, they would indeed be stranded5 with me for the next twelve weeks, she responded with a quaint:

Oh… cool.

I was a nervous wreck, and that’s honestly about the ONLY thing I remember from that entire week.6 I remember almost stopping mid-step and thinking to myself, “NO. Wait… WHY is that cool? I’ve never taught before, I have NO idea what I’m doing standing up here in front of you guys… that is NOT cool.”

And I don’t even really know if she actually meant “cool” as in “cool”, or… “cool” as in “this actually bites cuz you look like a tool but I’m going to be a polite little teenager and say ‘cool’ anyway.” But it was a nice gesture that had a bigger impact on me than I think anyone else would have picked up on. It goes to show that the smallest gestures can really and truly go a long way, and that it doesn’t take much to make7 someone’s day.8

After graduating from Texas in 2001 and taking a belly-flop of a gig with a local semiconductor joint during the dot-com burst,9 our church group spent a month on the east coast of Russia in the summer of 2004. That experience was transformational, and gave me a new perspective on — among other things — life and career. I entered the UTeach program the following January, and suddenly before I knew it, I was standing in front of two dozen+ high school freshmen, voice trembling, scared as freak, wondering if I’d be looking into a third career by week’s end… and there I was, holding on the words,

Oh… cool.

I always look back at that first day as being critically pivotal in my story. If things had gone belly-up during that student teaching gig, then these last seven years would likely have gone in a completely different direction.10 I certainly wouldn’t have ended up at McNeil the following January… and these past seven seasons — to which the word “magical” hardly does justice — would never have come to pass. For starters, I wouldn’t be preparing for my 7th Open House, which is tonight.11

A common job interview question for prospective teachers used to be12, “Is it more important to you for the students to LIKE you, or to RESPECT you?” The textbook answer is of course the latter, but let’s be honest, most decent human beings also care about the former. A lot of those kids should be graduating college this year, which absolutely blows my mind. To this day, I still don’t really understand why those kids took so well to me… but they did, and they were truly an amazing bunch.

1. Student teaching, yes, but teaching, still. [↩]
2. Truly… sometimes I still don’t. [↩]
3. I had a week to observe the class before taking over the teaching duties [↩]
4. Seriously! I couldn’t believe my ears! [↩]
5. no, I didn’t actually use the word “stranded” [↩]
6. well, aside from how tired I was that Friday afternoon, which was literally THE most exhausted I have ever felt in my entire life, even today [↩]
7. or conversely, break [↩]
8. So go be nice to someone today. You really don’t know how big of an impact it might have. [↩]
9. At the time, most places were rescinding job offers, instead of extending them. [↩]
10. I probably would have pursued grad school, for starters… and then, who knows what. [↩]
11. and actually, I could almost do without, as I wouldn’t describe staying at school until 9PM as “magical” [↩]
12. and maybe it still is? [↩]