From the monthly archives:

February 2009

A Eulogy for Ruben (If There Ever Was One)

by Jose on February 24, 2009 · 21 comments

in life

Ruben

Ruben Redman

“I often wish that I could save everyone, but I’m a dreamer.”
- Scarface, “Smile”

Ruben,

As one of my first students, I remember you as a portly one.

Always dressed in funky colors, and had style for days whenever you weren’t in uniform.

Never really in a gang, but had a tag name (think I didn’t know about that, Trons?)

I’m almost certain, though, that you wouldn’t get into that other mess others were into. You had dreams of doing really great things. Maybe a lawyer, doctor, or whatever other profession your parents encouraged from you. Both of them were there.

And I remember my first year at your school, thinking how nervous but idealistic I was about the prospect of teaching my first batch of students. I remember cultivating that sense of urgency with all of you, that time was of the essence, and that what you’re doing and see around you doesn’t necessarily have to be yours. With that, I learned to push you hard, because I wanted to extract the best out of you.

We battled, and battled hard.

All in the name of seeing you reach your highest potential.

Even though I didn’t get to teach you your 8th grade year, I’d see you on my floor, on the block, with your friends, always with the nicest kicks (sneakers), hanging out with girls.

Being young.

But graduating. With parents in tow. Parents who I got really familiar with, as I called them about twice a month (once for you, once for your sister). So proud.

They say life’s short, but no one ever defines what short is. You never expect that this would pertain to someone like you, Ruben. You weren’t supposed to have this happen to you. You were supposed to mature out of this phase. You, more than anything, were caught up in the wrong place, wrong time.

And now you don’t even get a chance to be at the right place. You’re not getting that second chance. Hopefully you give your other friends a chance to see their lives as indispensable.

Ruben Redman, rest in peace. Stay good.

Mr. Vilson, who seriously hasn’t had the greatest week ever …

For Ruben

For Ruben

{ 21 comments }

I Need Your Full Cooperation and Total Attention

by Jose on February 23, 2009 · 4 comments

in life

Def Squad

Def Squad

Just a few things I’d like to mention.

I came into my classroom ready to breeze through the last few standards before the NYS Math Test (probability, permutations, and the like). I came in with a vengeance, remembering the things I needed to cover before those two dreaded words:

Test. Prep.

I’m officially nervous about the NYS Math Test 9 school days from now. I don’t think my kids are in many ways prepared to excel on that test. Today, I went to other classes to see how they did test prep, and found some really good and solid ideas for how to do test prep. I suppose I should share them here, but I’d rather not until I figure it all out.

Anyone have any ideas for making test prep informative without making it boring? I’m really trying to make it worthwhile for both of us (us being the teacher and students). Help if you know how.

Jose, who just needs this week to be over.

{ 4 comments }

Working On the Star F*kin’ Player

by Jose on February 22, 2009 · 4 comments

in life

Note: some rather inflammatory language in this post. Not that you care because you know who you’re subscribed to, but just in case, move on if you’re not old enough to read this or if you can’t handle the language.

The Rock

The Rock

Last night, I found some serious inspiration from one of the most unlikely sources I’d ever had, one that, despite the incendiary language, really provided me the wherewithal to keep moving despite the minor obstacles I’m facing now.  Let me rewind a bit, though.

I went to Huny’s birthday Mardi-Gras Extravaganza, and for the time I was there, it was fun. Good drink, good people, and fun times. Obviously, I wish I had been there longer, but I was a bit exhausted from all the previous running around I was doing. Nonetheless, I met a lot of cool people, and even saw 1 that I didn’t expect at all (Andy, we definitely need to chill soon).

Anyways, we’re all downstairs, getting our party on. Dopegirlfresh is getting her dance on, and even the sitters were still grooving. Again, lots of fun. All of a sudden, as I’m dancing, one girl (who I’m not naming nor has been named already) turns around, and hands me her drink. I thought, “Oh, she must need to fix her shoes or somethin’. No biggie.” Then she turns right back around and starts dancing again.

peoples_eyebrow

Say what? My face looked like I just smelled the crudest fart I’d ever smelled.

I turn to my new peoples, goddessjaz, and I go,

Did she do what I think she just did? I know she’s not giving me this red drink for me to have! Do I look like I got sucka written in my forehead?

Obviously. Goddessjaz is crackin’ the hell up, and I continue:

I mean, I barely know you! And you’re just gonna hand me your drink? I must have “sucka!” written on my forehead! Chick, you’ve never tweeted me before! You don’t even follow me! We are not friends!

Goddessjaz by now can hardly breathe, so I say, “I bet you’re going to retweet this.” She couldn’t say no.

I turn back around, tap the girl politely on the shoulder, and said, “Hold this.” I then got back to my dancing. No drama, but for some reason, I must have this look on my face that says, “I’ll hold your drink while you go have fun and I just stand there with a drink I won’t even have a sip of.” Please.

I stay a little while longer because I haven’t turned into a pumpkin just yet, but I had to step out because I’d been tired all day. I walk all four blocks back home (it’s good living on the LES), and turn on the tube. Comedy Central is showing an uncensored version of Katt Williams’ It’s Pimpin’ Pimpin’, and he drops some serious knowledge. Much of his segment is dedicated to self-improvement and taking care of the star player.

“Too much motherfucking shit going on is my motherfuckin’ point, too much motherfuckin’ shit. That’s why you gon’ have to make a dedication to yourself that you gon’ treat your star player a little bit nicer in 2008. Some of us go through our whole lives pleasing other motherfuckas, and you can’t please nobody. People in your family mad, people at your job mad, people in your car mad, everybody mad!

FUCK THAT!

How the fuck are you doing, n****? How the fuck are you doing? You might want to focus on that a little motherfuckin’ more in 2008 …

Isn’t it time we all took care of our star player?

(Watch from the 6:52 mark, or just watch the whole thing for funny-as-hell clip)

Jose, who just had to keep it real for a quick second …

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Open Thread: What Makes a Good Math Teacher?

by Jose on February 19, 2009 · 7 comments

in life

Einstein

Einstein

Here are a few good questions for everyone. At the behest of brran, I’ve decided to start an open thread about math teachers. As the title says, what makes a good math teacher?

As someone who considers himself a good math teacher, I often wonder what takes a teacher from good to great, or even from adequate to good. What are your criterion for good math teaching? I think this thread may be useful for those of us in math education, and those of us who love math (or even hate math).

Here are some questions to get your mind going:

  • What was your favorite math subject? (Anything from k-college is wanted)
  • Who was your favorite math teacher?
  • Why did you like them so much?
  • Was it about the academics or about the feelings you got from that person?
  • Is there a particular math concept that you enjoyed?
  • Did you love or hate math?
  • If you hated math for most of your life, why is that? What would have improved your experience?

OK, your turn. Throw out your craziest, sensationalist, or even mild ideas about these questions. The floor is yours. If you’re a math teacher / educator, think about your own teaching and whether you think you’re a good math teacher.

Jose, who wants you to use whatever method you please to answer this question.

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How’s That Postracial Thing Working Out For You?

by Jose on February 18, 2009 · 12 comments

in life

Eric Holder

Eric Holder

O, humans. After Barack Obama was elected, some of you seriously thought that the color barrier had officially collapsed. Some of you were grinning extra hard since you thought all the problems of the world were laid off your shoulders, as if we were only one John Hancock away from true world peace. Evidently, someone didn’t send the memo to Eric Holder, the first African-American US Attorney General:

“Though this nation has proudly thought of itself as an ethnic melting pot in things racial, we have always been, and we, I believe, continue to be, in too many ways, essentially a nation of cowards,” Holder said at the Justice Department in Washington, D.C. “Though race-related issues continue to occupy a significant portion of our political discussion, and though there remain many unresolved racial issues in this nation, we, average Americans, simply do not talk enough with each other about things racial …This is truly sad. Given all that we as a nation went through during the civil rights struggle, it is hard for me to accept that the result of those efforts was to create an America that is more prosperous, more positively race-conscious, and yet is voluntarily socially segregated.”

Tough talk coming from a man born and raised in Bronx, NY. But that’s for the majority of Black people, right? I mean, white people consider a neighborhood less desireable if Black people live in it, and most people, Blacks and Whites included, don’t truly know the reason why Black History Month was created, right? There’s still higher poverty rates amongst Blacks and Latinos than Whites even though we’re “all” going through an economic crisis, but that’s OK, because there’s a Black man in the White House. He’s smart, athletic, polite, conversational, and articulate, so he’ll be attacked on his policies, not on his ethnicity, looks, or background right?

NY Post Editorial Cartoon (2/18/09)

NY Post Editorial Cartoon (2/18/09)

BANG!

Apparently, even cool, calm, and collected Obama, the same Obama who won the millions (and millions) of people’s votes (and minds) fairly through a really tight election, who galvanized many Americans throughout the United States to become more active in their communities, who within a month of being inaugurated has made tremendous strides towards bringing normalcy to this country, can still be easily compared (not so much contrasted) to an angry “uncivilized” primate who wouldn’t stop ripping people’s faces off until two presumably White cops put him in his place.

Some have contended that there’s a double standard associated with this comparison because, while we’re outraged at the aforementioned cartoon, we were fine with the Bush monkey cartoons and the Condoleeza Rice as House Nanny references. While I see what they’re getting at, I also think that highlighting the President of the United States getting shot and killed and simultaneously showing a Black man getting shot “like the monkey he is” raises the stakes to degrees that underrepresented people are all too accustomed to in this country. I’m not excusing the Bush monkey stuff or the Condoleeza stuff because, frankly, I disagree way more with their policies than their person. But this comparison is shallow at best. I just don’t think comparing George W. Bush’s facial expressions to a monkey’s carries the same implications to, say, Barack Obama as a shot-down angry monkey. You can disagree with the policies, but this takes it to a whole ‘nother level.

And again, I’m not the racial polemicist usually. I’m not saying that race relations haven’t come a long way from, say, 100 years ago. Yet, we humans are foolish to believe that people like Obama and Holder symbolize such a revolutionary shift in our national thinking that we no longer, for instance, need affirmative action or have check boxes for race / ethnicity. Until this dynamic changes, then the artist isn’t just representing an isolated case. He is not an isolated case; he is a representative of a significant portion of Americans’ thinking. Until we ALL have those conversations (and not just talking points we regurgitate from whoever we decide to idolize as our racial savior), we won’t get anywhere.

So to those of you who love singing Kumbayah around imaginary campfires, how’s that postracial thing working out for you? The grass over there must be really green.

Jose, who still doesn’t see everyone’s voices fully integrated into American history right?

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Top 6 Things That Continue To Irk Me

by Jose on February 16, 2009 · 8 comments

in life

Annoying

Annoying

Lately, people and things have irked me to no end. A lot of it is definitely self-inflicted, but most of it is pure mind-numbing, smackdown-worthy crap. With no further adieu, my list of things that irk me right now:

#6: The Chris Brown / Rihanna Fiasco

I only place this as #10 because I don’t want to be annoyed by what’s going on with them, but they’ve become such a hot topic that it’s worth noting. In particular, people’s responses to the situation have been at both extremes and none in the middle: either they think Chris Brown deserves some serious jail time or some form of castigation or Rihanna is “ugly” and deserved that beating. I’m of the opinion that CB definitely deserves his punishment. Hitting another woman is out of the question. Yet, I’m also feeling what Amber is saying.

#5: Syracuse Orange basketball

I love Syracuse U. and people know that, but every so often, they give me shades of the Knicks: everytime there’s a chance to just close it out and shut the door completely, something crazy always happens. Fortunately they escaped Georgetown’s grasp, but this trend needs to stop. Please, Cuse, PLEASE!

#4: Popular Rappers Tweeting

I once had this theory about rappers and how they might actually be quality Twitter users. So I started following my favorites (if you’ve been following me long enough, you know who I’m talking about). However, once I waited a week or so, I started to see that they weren’t contributing anything about their thoughts. I’d read their tweets the way I watch the news at night: put me to sleep just fine.

#3: The Obama-MLK-Lincoln Comparisons

OK, the first time the comparisons came up, it was cool. I saw it in a couple of editorial cartoons and I respected it. However, at this point, I’m literally sick of it. Is Barack not his own man? To that end, can Obama please stop using Lincoln and MLK as additives to ligitimize his presidency in the eyes of some of these naysayers? I’m done with the comparisons, and while it’s cool for blog hits, it’s bad on the eyes.

#2: Stalkers

Yesterday morning, I got this strange e-mail from a man who identified only as Patrick. He e-mailed a bunch of us, inquiring about a certain blogger friend of mine, and wanted to get more information about her. Here’s how it read (truncated for blog purposes):

… She asked me for a loan when she had some pressing bills and her ex was not paying his share.  I agreed to help her out with a loan and it was made clear this was a loan, not a gift.  I even have emails to that effect.  The time for repayment that we agreed on is long over due. My calls to the telephone numbers I had for her indicate the number is no longer operable and the emails noted above have been unanswered.  I am appealing to the people on this list to provide me with *** last name, or address and or place of employment.  Please help do the right thing.  I have had a string of bad misfortune lately and really need to recover this money.  As I said, she asked me for help in a time of need and I, maybe foolishly obliged, but now I need help in trying to recover this loan.

Dude, you know how I can tell you’re a stalker? Your story has more holes than I can put my fingers through. How do you loan money to someone whose last name you don’t know? How did you get the e-mails of people who don’t even know her personally? This is a strong indication that the person who wrote this is a stalker who’s trying to find out way more than he needs to. People need to get over themselves.

#1: Internet “FreeAdGans”

NYC Educator highlighted this recently, but it’s worth noting: I’m not just going to put something up on my blog to advertise for you just because your objectives are somewhat in line with mine. You think because we’re teachers, for example, that we’ll put up your “materials” for free? Nope.

If you want me to post “materials” (i.e. banners, PDF files, etc.) then I’m classifying those “materials” as ads because that’s what they are. And if they’re ads, then yes, I expect some sort of compensation. I hate to be so heartless (actually I don’t), but I find that a lot of the press managers and PR people from these corporations really take us for fools.

I don’t know what you take me as
Or understand the intelligence that Jose has
From rags to riches, kinda
I’m not dumb
I got 99 problems, but this isn’t one …

Hit me!

Jose, who’s got some books and CDs he’s sharing with everyone on his sidebar. Check them out at your leisure.

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A Few Notes: One Love

by Jose on February 15, 2009 · 2 comments

in life

Nas

Nas

Now that I have my Google Reader in order, here are a few links and notes:

  • I stumbled upon this literally. It’s some freaky animation, but it’s dope nonetheless. (Pascal Campion)
  • This article by Michael Lewis was really good. It discusses Shane Battier, Duke alum and current Houston Rockets player, and the intersection between the stats and the intangibles. (NYTimes)
  • My kids call me an OG (original gangsta). Here’s one reason why: I built my own computer. You, too, can be a bad-ass. Just follow these steps. (Lifehacker)
  • JD officially has the dopest Valentine’s Day poem I’ve ever heard. OK, maybe not, but it’s still cool. Mathematicians stand up! (JD2718)
  • Rep. Michael Capuano tears an asshole into the Bank CEOs that showed up at in front of the House Financial Services Committee. (NYMag)
  • A big shout-out to my favorite nationally syndicated cartoonist / editorialist, RJ Matson. I love his cartoons.

And if I see another cartoon of Obama, MLK, and Lincoln mixed in, I’m gonna shoot the Internet square in the mainframe.

Jose, who has a lot of writing to do …

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My Not-So-Funny Actually Quite Tragic Valentine [The Love Below Series]

by Jose on February 12, 2009 · 11 comments

in life

How To Heal A Broken Heart

How To Heal A Broken Heart

Before my days in college (man, I loved college), I really didn’t much success with the ladies. And by not that much, I mean there was a recession of immense proportions. I looked around and watch my friends talk about female orifices and their indexes feeling on the softest, roundest female bottoms ever. Me? Not quite. I had a chance encounter in Dominican Republic back when I was 10 (I’ve never forgetten it). From then ’till college, contrary to popular beliefs (even my own) I barely got any.

But the couple of things that I always had going for me were hope and optimism. Certainly being nice didn’t work too well nor did the other passive characteristics I took on as a result of my upbringing. I don’t wish to blame the parents (even if it is their fault), but it’s also because society taught me that I was fat, Black, and ugly. No, seriously. Thank G-d for goatees and age. Otherwise, I still would have been that frustrated chump who, in a rather quixotic moment, considered asexuality.

Back to the point, Valentine’s Day was where I laid all my hopes of finding someone to kiss (I had little space for much else). I wanted that romantic love, that movie love, that Corey and Topanga kind of love. And of course, it wasn’t to be. I mean, I went all out for Valentine’s Day, sometimes spending my weekly allowance … with zero returns. There were also the ones where something might have happened if I was less chicken-shit and more Neil Strauss about things. Or the nights when my single friend and I would just have a Lonely Person’s Day, eating fries and ice cream at McD’s. It ranged anywhere from “You’re nice, but can we be friends?” to “I’m your counselor. I may be hot, but I’m at least 3 times your age.” I even got “Ummm … no.”

Ouch.

Nevertheless, all those wasted Valentine’s Days taught me something later on that I probably wouldn’t have learned:

Valentine’s Day is expensive as a motherfucker.

Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all.

If you don’t consider yourself an attractive and loveable person, how do you expect someone else to love you? If you don’t consider yourself worthy of someone, will you ever be? There are times when you do think you’re worthy and things fail, but the chances of reciprocity are much greater than we have a belief in an idea than when we don’t.

Fortunately, for this Valentine’s Day, I have one person who’s been my 3-peat Valentine (it’s the first time ever, I promise you). Yet, I also know there are those of you who are booing Cupid to no end, and I have to respect that (the grass is definitely greener on this side). Then again, I feel like after all that depravity, I’ve earned love.

Yes, I’ve earned love.

Jose, who assembled his first bed tonight …

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We Get It From Our Papa [The Love Below Series]

by Jose on February 10, 2009 · 4 comments

in life

This is the third post on love, commemorating that yearly event that happens on the 14th. Today, I’ll get a little into my own background without saying too much. I’ll try not to get too deep into family, but I’ll give a little context for the ideas I’m laying out. I hope to represent these ideas accurately.

Black Father, Son, Shaving

Black Father, Son, Shaving

As a child, I often admired my father: a goateed, handsome Black man with a raspy voice, and a charisma unmatched by any man I’ve met since. It’s funny how so many people consider their fathers the most charming man they’ve ever met. Yet, I wasn’t alone. My father’s expeditions from Haiti to Florida to New York and back around again left many women longing for more than what he could offer. Even into his 50s, he still has that spark in his eye, a qualifier for the lifestyle he (used to) live. However, his wanton ways left reverberations for the many children he left to some of the women he impregnated and left with no promises.

In the book Why Beautiful People Have More Daughters? by Alan S. Miller and Satoshi Kanazawa, Kanazawa explains that men are supposed to have as many children as possible because, according to evolutionary theory, they benefit from having their genes spread as far and wide as possible. On the other hand, women usually won’t have too many children because there’s only so many children a woman can have (on average, 25) and, thus, they have more investment in the child they have as they get older because of that cap.

Of course, Kanazawa doesn’t go into what is or what should be. Because, while as an adult, I understand the biological reasons for what men (and women) do at times, I had a really hard time reconciling with the idea of not having a father. My mother, as could be expected, did her best to provide for me, but as I now see with my own students, I also see how a reliable male presence in my life may have in my own upbringing. Seeing all these other faces, whom all looked familiar, but nonetheless were born of other women, irritated me because, as the ghetto so environmentally pronounces, I was a reject even without having actually done anything to be rejected.

And of course, it only got worse when it came to how I learned about the opposite sex. Frankly, I wasn’t quite as versed in the ways of cavorting / flirting as I am now. He wasn’t there for that. I still haven’t learned how to drive a car. He wasn’t there for that. I spent most of my conscious life in fear of my life with a man who had no real investment in my life, and taught me that beating on anyone who angered me was appropriate, and I had the unprovoked welts and mental scars to prove it. My father wasn’t there for that. And I suspect that all my siblings in one form or another had similar hardships.

My mother always told me to love my father. And when I went to visit him when he was on his last breath, I felt the love emanate from all my siblings. From those who adored and looked up to him only to try and grab his attention in the most not-so-subtle ways to those of us who downgraded him to strands of human code, we felt love was the only thing to feel. Since then, those feelings of bitterness and resentment turned to a weird sympathy, respect, and love.

And it’s easy for me to sit here and discuss his failings, but if not for his absence, I may not have had the life I do now, where it’s precisely the lack of a male influence that’s kept me in the “industry” I’m in. It made me want to make my own family. It made me want better for myself. It made me. Plus, I can’t say what would have happened if he did stay. Part of me believes that many of his genes definitely carried through all of us, but another part of me believes I can rebell against that behavior. A huge part of me would like to see love last a long time, and unconditionally.

I’d like to follow that trend someday; I’ve never seen it before.

Jose, who is working on it …

{ 4 comments }

Recourse To Love [The Love Below Series]

by Jose on February 9, 2009 · 3 comments

in life

This is my second “The Love Below” post. Ever wondered how kids are interacting romantically in public school right now? Read here.

I Give You My Heart

I Give You My Heart

Two weeks ago (or was it last week? All of it is getting rather blurry to me), I broke up a fight between a really strong 16-year-old boy and a 13-year-old girl who wasn’t quite as big. Being one of the only males of the school, I once again found myself breaking up another fight. This one was different; they were tugging at each other’s hair, and when I finally broke them up, he said, “I don’t hit girls. What the fuck, man?”

What? The hell you don’t. I’ve seen you my damn self!

Yeah I know “her” sordid history. For some reason, kids seem to be comfortable enough to tell me all their business. Well, most of it anyways.

They tell me the basics about who they like, since when, and maybe even what they did. For example, last year, I had to talk to one of my girls about the appearance of a condom popping out of her jacket. Again, I always tread on this taboo stuff, but I speak earnestly and know what I’m getting into (usually). With Valentine’s Day coming up, I’m already starting to hear about the buzz about who’s going to ask who to what. I’ve already confiscated drawings, candy, and love letters, most of which had deplorable spelling errors (yes, I’m being tongue-in-cheek). Everyone’s dressing a little nicer, and even the boys have decided to actually smell appropriately for public settings. It’s wonderful really.

Yet, I can’t help but be bothered just a smidget about what’s going on with them. I often feel like with their minds on every and anything else, they’ll never find a way to balance out those parts of their lives with the work that, for their futures, needs to get done. And I don’t just mean my class work. It becomes hard to instill the values of education into my students when so many of them are more concerned with the girls they’re going out with (and in some cases, the girls they’re sharing), the freshest outerwear, or in general, acting like they’re part of a gang or a set when they’re not even close to gangsta.

What worries me most is the lack of examples they have for what constitutes as love. As I’ve recently found out personally, the past definitely comes back to haunt you in your relationships. So here I am, listening to them talk about each other behind their backs but in such loving tones, it gives me hope that they’ll learn to have real and positive relationships with each other. Then, I walk down the street at night and see a guy beating up on his girl because a) they don’t know how else to address their angst and b) because that’s all they’ve ever seen. He’ll “smack a ho” for “talking shit,” but when they were small children, like the ones I’m teaching now, they were putting their head down on a desk, crying their eyes out for another girl who they broke his heart.

My sincerest hope when I see them out there, looking at each other lovingly, slapping each other and making kissy faces at each other, is that they remember the abuses their mothers suffered through, that they’ve seen in their own neighborhoods, and step far away from the gloomy examples of their present day. Girls that look up to Rihanna and boys that want to dance like Chris Brown need someone that’ll show them what a real and successful relationship looks like (Chris Brown himself hasn’t really had that).

Love changes definition in time for our kids, but the feeling becomes a much easier feeling to understand when real love takes over …

Jose, who thinks domestic abuse jokes are completely unfunny …

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