3 Reasons Why I Won’t Join Your Organization – Movement -WhateverYouCallIt

by Jose on February 8, 2010 · 1 comment

in life

In A Complete Act of Randomosity ...

Let me lay it out really quickly. I get asked to join a lot of projects, organizations, and groups of people.  My former self used to join everything, and most of the experiences resulted in positive relationships and fulfilling moments. However, these days, I’m not the plucky socialite I once was. Rough lessons will do that to any man. Here’s the three reasons I probably won’t join your organization:

1. It’s not very innovative or interesting.

if I’ve seen it before, and that movement’s been done already, I’m really likely not to join it. It’s the reason why I don’t do Foursquare, for instance. When I feel like anything or anyone’s function has already been fulfilled, then I tend not to gravitate towards that. In a forward-oriented mentality, regressing or repetition usually serves as a hinderance instead of say, a way to reflect on misgivings.

2. It’s got leadership I don’t feel comfortable with.

I know, I know. There’s plenty of times that an organization’s purpose is much greater than the leadership it has. Even when there are stark disagreements between people, they can band together in a way that lets the purpose shine without having the leadership involve itself too much. And that’s often why I won’t join the organization. Whether it was a misplaced handshake, a negative association, or simply treating a group of people as hooligans to placate (i.e. teachers). The minute you get names wrong or look like you’re trying too hard, you fall out of favor for my attention. It’s no disrespect, but that’s how I am.

3. I don’t have the time to play a pivotal role in it. (this tends to be last for some reason)

Even with my time management skills, I often don’t have the time to play an important role in the organization. In these instances, especially when I thoroughly believe in the traits of the movement, I’ll help promote it. I’m generous with my time in that respect, and support tons of organizations even when I’m not a full-fledged member.

So why would I join? In short: it’s gotta be real. It’s gotta ring true. It’s gotta feel like it’s such a part of me, I don’t even  need to think twice about it.

What would drive you to join a movement?

Jose, who’s in constant search of the next and best …

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Short Notes: Internet Explorer Is Only Good For One Thing … and It’s Not Being Good

by Jose on February 7, 2010 · 1 comment

in life

New Orleans Saints' Drew Brees

A few notes:

  • My website actually works for all! It’s been IE 7 / 8 optimized. I didn’t care for it … until I noticed the amount of people who were able to view my web page suffered. Until everyone switches over to Firefox / Chrome / Safari / anything but Internet Explorer, I’ll have to keep these things in mind.
  • 5′9″ New York Knick Nate Robinson gets blocked by Cleveland Cavalier Shaquille O’Neal. No big news. Robinson blocks Shaq. A bigger deal. [YouTube]
  • If I turned anarchist and wanted to destroy public education, here’s what I would do. [Why Do You Ask?]
  • Ever wondered what information designing the Beatles might look like? Well, here you go. [Michael Deal]
  • Rahm Emanuel’s use of the word “retard” is certainly inappropriate. Sarah Palin trying to get him fired over it? Not so. [Tiger Beatdown]
  • Baseballisms included some of my Yankee tweets as part of their free e-book about the 2009 MLB playoffs, thus solidifying my title as possibly the greatest New York Yankees livetweeter of all time. Easily. You gotta sign up to get the book. [Baseballism]
  • My guest post at The Future of Teaching. You’ll love it, I swear. [TeacherLeaders]

It’s Super Bowl Sunday, and it’s also the first time I’ve EVER actually liked both teams. Outside of Jeremy Shockey, there’s no one I particularly despise in the game. I love Peyton’s cerebral game and Brees’ energy. They have great dynamic players on both sides of the field and awesome coaches. They were the best all year, and they deserve to be where they’re at now. Thus, it’s hard for me to root for any one team.

With that said, I’d like the Saints to win, simply because I see that they’re actually playing for the city that their dome once housed. If the Colts win, though, I’m good with that.

This week, I’m going to discuss a little math and a lot about the phrase “I already have that.”

Jose, who won’t go through the next 90 days without a fight …

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On Why Your Colorblindness Can Strike Me As Covertly Racist ( #EdChat Edition )

by Jose on February 2, 2010 · 4 comments

in life

Damage after Hurricane Katrina, School Bus

Let me make it plain: conversations in too many sectors have this strange relationship with race these days, and by strange, I mean covertly racist. This sentiment is best exemplified by Secretary of Education Arne Duncan’s latest quote about New Orleans (thanks, Fred Klonsky):

“I think the best thing that happened to the education system in New Orleans was Hurricane Katrina. That education system was a disaster, and it took Hurricane Katrina to wake up the community to say that ‘we have to do better.’”

Classy move there, Secretary. (Your apology’s a little late, which is right on time.) I have so many problems with this statement, I’d be here until tomorrow discussing its implications. However, let me just highlight a few:

1) As I mentioned in the same blog I borrowed this from, the cataclysmic events of the day and the thousands of lives lost and ruined by this disaster only seem to mean one thing to Arne: a rise in test scores. If we get rid of the lowest-performing students through collateral damage and natural disaster, who are we to disparage that as scores rise? The districts with higher performing students didn’t get affected nearly as much. Plus, if we can destroy the public sector of education and replace it with privately funded institutions who only accept certain types of children, then those students who don’t get to go to those schools, in effect, don’t count. They’re on the bottom end of the “outliers.”

Which brings me to …

2) If those voices are silenced, then how does some people’s “color-blindness” affect how this conversation proceeds? Well, his defenders will most likely say, “He doesn’t have a racist bone in his body,” “His boss is a Black president!” and “Look at the second part of that statement. Black people DO have to do better!” These statements and others like it already denote a racial tone because it suggests that color is to be ignored in a system that places values on race as is or that the retorts aren’t substantiated because there’s a Black person involved within a 5-mile radius. It also suggests that, when in conversation with a diverse group of people, since there “is no color,” then the dominant peoples’ voice (cultural values, speech patterns, stereotypes, etc.) should be used, and thus nullifying the conversation since everyone’s supposedly on the same plane, even when they’re not.

and …

3) It makes it easier to ignore participants whose experience is different from the dominant populace, and this doesn’t just apply to race, but sex, age, etc. Rather than addressing these issues, too many educators rather run away from these topics because of their limited experience with race or they don’t want to deal with that part of themselves. At the end of the day, it doesn’t just hurt participants of color, but Whites as well, since their opinions hinder true dialogue and embed further intellectual segregation, even when they think they mean well.

I bring all this up because I ran into a conversation online where the chatroom was mostly of one dominant culture, and a few others observed that they couldn’t get into the conversation because it’s mostly ed-tech crap. (Yes, I said crap.) When someone tried to bring up the need for more discussion about pedagogy and / or achievement gaps, these parts were ignored, and that’s the worst part.

Ignorance doesn’t just take the form of hatred (ignorance of fact), but also when one actually ignores the other (ignorance of being).

Unlike my blogger colleagues who discuss race, I won’t seek to validate my opinion by speaking of the myriad of friends I have and who understand this discussion, no matter what race. Rather, I extend this phrase: color-consciousness. It means that true diversity exists outside of the flavors that exist in your spice rack, or the flavor of liquids you used today.

And more to the point, it means people aren’t simply collateral.

Mr. Vilson, who never drank Cristal, but them f***as racist …

p.s. – Dr. Beverly Tatum covered this extensively in Why Are All The Black Kids Sitting Together In The Cafeteria? Pick it up if you haven’t.

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Don’t Speak, I Know Just What You’re Thinking. [Or Students Are Students]

by Jose on February 1, 2010 · 4 comments

in life

No Doubt

“Well, not for nothing, but the student you’re looking at now has an IEP. She’s come a long way from where she was …”

In my mind, I was thinking, “The next word out of your mouth when talking about my students better not classify them as ‘ELL’ or ‘IEP’.”As Ira Socol said in a lively discussion (that I’m not sure he thought I was paying attention to), these terms are often no different than “retard,” “stupid,” or “less than adequate” in the context of too many conversations we as educators have.

On the Future of Teaching blog, I went into more detail about my beliefs about students with “disabilities” and how often we focus on the first prefix rather than the rest of the world. The prefix in the context we give it (and a popular prefix) can be debilitating. This is especially true when the teacher thinks that there’s something to be embarrassed about for the student, or the teacher is defending his or her work in front of visitors of any color, and there’s something inherently wrong there.

Nothing tells me more about a teacher than when they use labels first to discuss students. Part of it isn’t their fault. We’ve been trained too often to make classifications for our students right off the bat. Students get a certain number and letter combination for their main class. They get testing modifications that sometimes make no sense. Teachers get data from grandiose systems that put classification before academic performance. In some cases, the classification is right next to the parents’ name and date of birth. As a matter of fact, because of the way certain classes are set up, even the teacher who teaches these students gets a label for their ability and specialty, limiting the teacher as a professional.

What I’d love to see in a dialogue between teacher and any other professional, more than anything, is the following:

  1. A student’s name and class
  2. The student’s proficiency levels in the subject I’m looking for
  3. Some strategies that the teacher has used to address that student’s need
  4. Maybe some socio-emotional contingents here
  5. How well the student performs in other classes besides yours and the like
  6. .
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  20. The student has an IEP / is an ELL.

I know this sounds rather optimistic, and maybe even a little naive. Of course these classifications will come up eventually. With all the data-driven education of the day, the state regulations (some of which do the job and others that hinder it), and the plethora of ed-reformers who believe anything that fits their corporate-driven agenda. It’s complicated and, while those of us who want to see these classifications get less priority see some progress, it’s going to be a long way to go. Other labels are on the horizon, and we need to understand how these labels work before we put them in the educational zeitgeist.

After the teacher said that to me, I turned around and waved my hands, saying, “You know, it’s OK. I don’t need to know all that.” In my head, I was thinking, “You’re trying to hard to lower standards even when you’re not seeing it. The kid will suffer if you keep that up.”

I just hope the teacher got the intended and the ostensible message there.

Mr. Vilson, who doesn’t want you to tell me ’cause it hurts.

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Short Notes: Do You Believe In Me? ‘Cause I Believe In You (Help Me Sing It)

by Jose on January 31, 2010 · 0 comments

in life

Michael Jackson, Moonwalker

A few links:

90 days gone from my students’ 8th greade year. 90 more to go. Let’s do it.

Mr. V, who’s all mamse mamasa mama kusa …

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Michael Mulgrew and the Idea of Listening Instead of Hearing

by Jose on January 28, 2010 · 2 comments

in life

Michael Mulgrew with Comptroller John Liu

It might have been the sweet potato fries or the classic cuban sandwiches, but today marks the first time I ever believed my union president word-for-word.

Today at Havana Central Upper West Side, Michael Mulgrew, President of the United Federation of Teachers (UFT), spoke in front of a capacity  crowd of strictly District 6 (Harlem and Upper Manhattan) teachers over a few appetizers and drinks. Normally these events don’t have much pomp and circumstance. School representatives just stick in their own lanes, say hello to a few people they recognize in their own neighborhood, and take cheesy pictures of each other for no apparent reason. Some of this was the case with the exception of the UFT representatives who got around to a few people. Then again, these people come straight from school.

At first, the usual stream of representatives spoke to us about the value of teachers and our job’s higher calling. We were introduced to people whose names have appeared in the midst of the spam I usually receive as an NYC educator.

Then, they introduced Michael Mulgrew. In full discloser, I’d already heard him speak at a prior meeting at the UFT meeting, and was pretty impressed with his calm yet confident demeanor. This time around, even in a suit, he gave off a blue-collar aura with a regular man’s ear. When the borough representative introduced him, he shied away from the praise with a bit of an eye-roll and a wave of his hands. Yet, where I found the former representative weak and capitulating, I saw an eagerness to listen to his constituents and an unwavering will.

The weirdest part about the meeting was how this roomful of teachers of different cultures, mostly Latino, actually sat quietly while he spoke for almost 45 minutes about everything from the contract to the new budget, without missing a beat. Like anyone who should be in tune with the membership, he listed each major grievance and concern the members had, listing fact after fact, lining them up and shooting them down to a rousing cavalcade of applause every 6 minutes or so. His responses, unlike too many figureheads, actually sounded like he believed the message of real reform as his constituents spoke, and not solely that his handlers got a few ambiguous notes together to placate the masses.

That’s the difference between listening and hearing, listening being most critical.

I wouldn’t write such a glowing review of someone’s speech without knowing the underbelly of the beast. Through my informal research, I’m also aware of union head’s ability to throw great sound bites to the public but negotiate away parts of our livelihood in secret. Mulgrew’s legacy has yet to fully develop, and with the recent history our union leadership has had, we as the rank and file have every right to mistrust on any level. Thus, I’m honestly tempered since I’d like to see more of he actually does.

Secretly, even his biggest detractors within the rank and file would probably love to see him succeed so long as he sticks to his aggressive, factual, and proletariat messages. As long as he pushes for the transparency of tax-funded charter schools, disregards Michael Bloomberg’s false labor options thrown in the media, delivers reasonable alternatives for Joel Klein’s whimsical school closings, and works towards helping to improve the school system (with an equitable contract), it’s hard not to have a sense of optimism about him.

After all, he actually sounds like he listens, and that’s the first step in building one’s image … and legacy.

Mr. Vilson, who doesn’t think it was the Cuban food …

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To Speak In Lieu of Talking

by Jose on January 26, 2010 · 4 comments

in life

The Great Debaters

Today, I got the wonderful opportunity to see the portfolio-based assessment presentations / defenses at an alternative high school. While it’s certainly a time-consuming process for all parties involved, the results justify the means. The students spoke with such clarity, even when struggling with the language, I only wished my students could speak with such voice for themselves.

One girl in particular jolted me to the core. Her autobiography portfolio, a culmination of her best and worst personal experiences, made me quiver. Her tales of how her father and mother met, her dead grandfather, and the loss of her best friend didn’t unnerve me much. Then, one of the judges (a teacher from the school) asked: “So you mentioned something about only hearing [the story of the relationship between your mother and father] from your father. Tell us more about that.” She replied, “Well, I heard the story from my mother, but my father told it in a different way. There are some things I didn’t know, but I learned a lot from that.” The teacher pushed on. “So what are some of those things?”

The girl replied with an uncanny aplomb, “Well, for one, Mom told me that it took 2 years for them to get married, but my dad told me it was 3. They had a big fight.”

“Why?”

“Because my dad cheated on my mom.”

My jaw dropped, but I held it together with my hand wrapped slightly around my mouth.

“And he said it so calmly, and I almost didn’t even do the interview. I was about to stop completely, but then he came and told me some of the details behind that, and I said ‘OK’ and continued from there.”

A certain amount of deductions took place in my mind before I could totally react, but after the interview was over, I gave her a nod of acknowledgment. While the presentation wasn’t as crisp as it could have been, every adult in the room found themselves contemplative at her calm and spunky demeanor while she told these stories. For anyone that wants to know the difference between speaking and talking, there’s your prime example.

In a social context, that might not mean much. We’re inundated with sordid tales of sexual and moral transgressions, many we won’t share because they’re more shameful than we’d ever acknowledge. Constantly, people have asked themselves whether our world has somehow climbed deeper into a dearth of shallow self-aggrandizing and argumentative cluttered discussion with no real implications a la Chris Matthews.

Very few speak.

Today, she spoke.

And that’s why we as educators learn how to develop our voices, because people like her need it. This isn’t just about educators, though. It’s about anyone who would like to be heard. It’s not about the volume, though that helps. It’s about that wonderful balance between precision and accuracy with a touch of humanity.

Until then, none of your cursing or sesquipedalian musings won’t remedy the power of using words effectively and passionately.

Jose, who hopes John Holland gets a chance to read this …

p.s. – Does anyone have any other stories to help develop this difference between talking and speaking?

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What To Do In Case You Kick Your Own Face

by Jose on January 25, 2010 · 0 comments

in life

<i>Fight Club</i> with Edward Norton and Brad Pitt

Fight Club with Edward Norton and Brad Pitt

A couple of weeks back, I forgot how to teach temporarily. I believe there’s a segment of one’s brain that completely shuts off their occupation when they’re on vacation. The brain doth follow.

I was lap-deep in coding, researching, reading, socializing, and getting my order back in order. All the while, the New York State math standards crept to the side. Day after day of Christmas passed and I didn’t pay January 4th any mind. January 3rd comes around, and there’s n’ary a cracked book open. I did myself a favor and corrected papers, but for the life of me, I couldn’t nor wanted to remember anything about pedagogy, even as I’m making my way through Lisa Delpit’s Other People’s Children.

After a bit more coding, I hoped on Twitter and said, “I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.” The beauty about these big common spaces is that the more people are exposed to your message, the bigger the pool of experience that might match with yours. Someone will have eventually kicked themselves in the face just like you did, even when you didn’t think you had the physical capacity to do so. Fortunately for me, someone had the right prescription for my lack of intuition:

“Stand. And. Deliver. Instant lesson plan.” – @chrislehmann

Just then, everything became clear. It’s not the underpinnings to become the next erudite educator or a quotable education bank of knowledge (though that helps). My primary focus is to teach, and do the best possible job whether I have a plethora of resources or only a piece of chalk and a gradebook. Not everyone understand the things I do nor to what capacity, but my constituents seem mostly happy with my performance in many arenas, and frankly, that’s what matters.

Mr. V, who’s been asked to talk about developing a teacher voice, and will do so tomorrow …

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Back Like I Never Left 2010

by Jose on January 22, 2010 · 2 comments

in life

Check the website. Tell me what you think.

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MLK Day: It Doesn’t Matter With Me Now

by Jose on January 18, 2010 · 11 comments

in life

Martin Luther King Jr. Pledging Allegiance at the Lincoln Memorial

I’m not going to quit being an educator. Even when people want me to quit, even when the gossip comes raining down, even when the whole world tries to tell me that education is not particularly valuable in the American hierarchy of occupations, I know I cannot quit. I know when people ask me to stop talking about the prejudices and injustices of the day, whether subliminally or overtly, I’ve made headway into the minds and hearts of someone. I’ve agitated some conversation. I’ve made people formed in their ideals tweak their core beliefs just a little bit. While the list of people I can thank for this passion wraps around a lake or two, I always think of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Lots of people thank him. The people who are indebted to him and the people who reciprocate that legacy by paying it forward are almost immeasurable. My story here will reveal a little more than I should reveal, but I really don’t care. My truth is as close to objective as I can get it without being overtly nice and fumbling with words. I’m more concerned with accuracy than agreeability. Without this story, I wouldn’t have a blog, I wouldn’t have a job, and I wouldn’t tell you just how much courage it takes for educators to teach in the face of pseudo-accountability, economic persuasion, and intellectual invasion.

In my second year of teaching, I was teaching my 8th graders how to translate verbal expressions into mathematical equations when I hear this booming voice in the hallway. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it didn’t bode well for someone. One of my students who had gone to the bathroom came back and whispered to me in the middle of my lesson, “Mr. Vilson, they’re talking about you. It’s your bulletin board.” I turned back to the student and in my usual Vilsonness deflected it and got back to work on one of my favorite topics in math.

Later in the day, my AP at the time came in and admonished me for my bulletin board and my classroom, where at once people confused my aesthetics with my pedagogy. None of this made sense to me. City College never taught me about aesthetics as a means to get my students engaged in the actual material. I hadn’t read Lisa Delpit or Pedro Noguera yet. The intensity of such a simple item as a display for student work might have made me laugh if not for my tenuous relationship (at best) with the administration. Now, there was a “legitimate” basis for destroying the life of an untenured teacher who the children actually enjoyed learning from.

I am not without fault here. I respect that aesthetics actually help students feel like the classroom is their home, and that they’re coming into a place of learning. They can see themselves within a building that better housed factory workers than students, mimicking wide open spaces like jails would. I was still so fresh and young, I didn’t walk and talk with much confidence around administration, despite my deadpan exterior. Never did I imagine that I’d have to pause everything I was doing at the time, including my graduate coursework, to beautify my classroom. I only say this half-sarcastically.

With the immense pressure and lack of real support from administration at that point, I turned to three gentlemen who I knew might have an answer for me: Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, and John Lennon. While the latter two were certainly inspirational, MLK Jr.’s “I’ve Been To The Mountaintop” speech carried me through this depressing portion of my year. I sat there, letting these words repeat in my speakers while I reflected both in written word and in my mind:

“Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!”
- Martin Luther King Jr., “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop,” April 3rd, 1968

As I let the tears stream down my face, I decided to take action. My math coach at the time consulted me, my fellow teachers pleaded with me, and my commenters empathized with me, but none of it helped as much as the aforementioned words of MLK. So I did the best thing possible: I posted this quote and others all over my desk, front and center. My students inquired about it, and I told them the reasoning behind the quotes themselves. My lesson plans became stronger and I taught with more passion and urgency. I’d never cared so much in my life since I was almost too sure my days were numbered.

Every night, I’d talk to my avatars, hoping they’d have some answers for me. Even with some of the discipline issues I was having in my classroom, they told me to just be patient, and I’d be rewarded handsomely for these trials of my character. Now I write you with a self-efficacy that I never thought I’d have. Despite my current frustrations with the school system as a whole, I don’t fear losing what I’ve attained as a teacher or leader, as I’ve felt like I could lose it all before. I’ve known what that’s like since I started. I stay humble because I know, no matter how far up this proverbial ladder I reach, I can lose it all.

It doesn’t matter with me now.

If it’s not about helping our students, it’s not worth my time. I’ve never come within an inch of my life of dying from a sneeze. I’ve never organized huge protests all over the nation, dodging bullets and rocks in the process. I’ve never had my house burnt down (I almost did but that never came to be). Yet, I’ve officially punched my card in. I will not quit.

We will get there, even with my eyes closed.

Mr. Vilson, who will podcast this soon.

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