The betterQs blog: A new #MTBoS adventure

For the past few years, I’ve been (sometimes daily, sometimes sporadically) posting on the one good thing blog. Last year I did it every single day. Often times it was a short post, especially in tough days where it was hard to find some little nugget. But what I loved was that it made me reflect consciously on joy and goodness, and pay attention to it. [1]

This year I want to spend some time thinking about how to question well. More specifically, thinking intentionally about what questioning looks like (and how it can be improved) in my classroom — both on my end and on my students’ end. I thought I would blog about it throughout the year, and figured it would be fun to blog with others. @rdkpickle had the same idea! So we figured it was a good idea, and set up a collaborative blog. All this is to say:

Check out the blog! Add it to your feedly or googlereaderreplacement. You’ll get posts by many people delivered right to your door.


But more importantly…You are warmly and heartily welcome to join us, and become an author. The blog just started and we’d love to get as many voices and experiences going on the ground floor.


Read a few posts. Browse a bit. It’s only a few days old, so there isn’t too much to gander at! And consider joining us. (If you want, there’s a tab at the top of the blog that tells you how to join, or just click here. We’ll add you as an official author!)

“But Sam,” you say, “I don’t have time to write every day…”

Silly goose, I respond! You can write however frequently works for you. Once a week? Once a month? Three times a year? The point is to take some time — however much of it — to think about questioning in your classroom.

“But Sam,” you say, “I don’t have a lot to write about…”

Silly turkey, I shoot back! I think it would be cool if you even wrote down a single question that you really loved asking because it provoked discussion. No need to deeply analyze it if you don’t want! Maybe a teacher reading the blog will read that question and think: “YAS! THIS IS EXACTLY THE QUESTION I NEEDED!” And if there were a lot of people just throwing down their good thought-provoking questions, we would soon have an amazing repository.

“But Sam,” you say, “I have a blog of my own! Why don’t I just post it there?”

Silly quail, I reply! You can post anything to do with questioning both on your own blog, and on this blog. No rule against that! In fact, I did that for my first post on the betterQs blog. And that way, someone reading the betterQs blog might get to know you and your own blog!

“But Sam,” you say, “I’m still scared… I don’t want to sign up and then not do it.”

Silly emu, I say. Why not take a baby step and just commit yourself to writing one or two things? Just keep a lookout in your school about how you question, or try to script a good question and see how it goes in your classroom, or rewrite a test question and explain how you rewrote it and why… Baby emu steps. And just see how it goes! You just might think: hey, questioning is something I want to pay just a bit more attention to!

Or, silly emu, don’t worry about signing up! As I wrote a couple years ago: “You should never feel guilty engaging with the community in ways that make sense to you. We’re all coming at teaching from such different places in our careers, such different backgrounds, and such different environments. We all need and want different things.” In other words, you do you.

[1] I also love the fact that because I’ve been using the blog semi-regularly, I can see an archive of so many good things of my own (in addition to seeing everyone else’s good things). On down days, it really helps me remember I’m not as bad as my brain tries to convince me I am.

My Thoughts about the Evolution of the #MTBoS: 2015 edition

Twitter Math Camp just ended, and I’m feeling a sense of sadness because I miss my friends already, but that is counterbalanced by renewed invigoration. Although I’m not ready to return to the classroom yet, the reason is because now I have so many things I want to think about and implement, and I need time to sort all of that out.

A Change Was A Brewin’

But while we were all together, something started occurring to me. I do a lot of thinking about this online community, the #MTBoS… who we are, why we came together, why we continue to come together, how are we inviting those who want to join in the fun, what we can do as a collective whole, and what we are doing as a collective whole. For me, this community started 8 years ago, and I’ve seen it grow from a nascent group of bloggers who shared their classroom activities and musings on education and their kids to a much more complex *thingie.* (Yup, I’m awesome at wording, right?!) Two years ago, after TMC13, I wrote:

the main takeaway of the conference was new. It was that we are a powerful force. We are not a loosely connected network of professionals, but we are a growing, tightly-connected network of professionals engaged in something unbelievably awesome. Through this community, we are all – in our own ways – becoming teacher leaders.

Around that time, I saw a lot of cool collaborative *thingies* just starting to bloom and blogged about how frakking awesome that was:

One thing that is now crystal clear to me is that we’re shifting into a new phase. (“We’re” meaning our little math teacher online community.)[…] Now in the past year or year and a half, there has been an explosion of activity. and this explosion seems to center around (a) collaboration and generating things which are (b) not really centered about us and our individual classrooms. We’re thinking bigger than ourselves.

I’m talking the letters to the first year teachers, I’m talking the Global Math Department, I’m talking thevisualpatterns website, I’m talking the month long new blogger initiation, I’m talking the freaking inspirational One Good Thing group blog, I’m talking Math Munch, I’m talking the collaborative blog Math Mistakes, I’m talking MathRecap to share good math PD/talks with each other. And of course, now we have the Productive Struggle blog, Daily Desmos, and the Infinite Tangents podcast. [1]

We’re still keeping our blogs, and archiving our teaching and sharing ideas, and talking on twitter. But now we’re also moving into creating these other things which are crowdsourced and for people other than just those in our little community…

It’s been a freakin’ pleasure to see all this stuff emerge out of the fertile soil that we already had. We’re starting to create something new and different… and… and… I can’t wait to see what happens.

At that time, it was just the beginning… So much has happened since.

We’re at Someplace New

There are many more people who are jumping in. More initiatives and collaborative projects are happening. People are meeting up more and more in real life tweetups. There has been an NPR story on one of us. Multiple grad students are doing their dissertation and research about our community. The MTBoS has no official organization or centralized structure and doesn’t speak with a single voice (something I value greatly), but it has gotten the attention of the National Council for Teachers of Mathematics (NCTM). The president elect and the executive director of NCTM came to TMC15. They have given us booth space at their last national conference. There are a series of sessions at MTBoS (strands) that have happened (one, two).  It’s worth thinking about what this means.

When I was at TMC15, I noticed that there wasn’t as many conversations or mentions of “celebrities” or “rockstars” as in previous years. I think I heard those words at most twice. It’s not like people weren’t excited to meet their math teacher crushes, but something felt different. I think we’re shifting away from “celebrities” and “rockstars” and are moving towards brands. Okay, that’s not the perfect term, because there is something pejorative about that, and I mean anything but that, but people have their *thingies.*

Some quick examples:

@cheesemonkeysf is known for talking points and how the social-emotional life of a student has everything to do with their ability to learn

@PiSpeak is known for math debate in the classroom

@sophgermain is known for diversity and inclusion issues

@fawnpnguyen is known for visual patterns and her Sage Experienced Teacher Wisdom (aka her funny and emotionally charged stories from her classroom)

@mathequalslove is known for her work on interactive notebooks and her craftiness

@AlexOverwijk is known for activity based teaching

@mpershan is known for exploiting math mistakes and encouraging critical discourse

and the list can go on and on and on…

I think the idea of “celebrity” is being replaced with “brand” (or niche, or whatever). As the community grows, there are more and more voices. But there are certain ones that get a lot of traction. Of course the more involved they are (via blogging or tweeting), the more noticed they are. But that’s not enough. It’s their messages.

Two things keep ringing around in my head about this.

One came from Christopher Danielson’s amazing keynote at the conference. His message: “Find what you love. Do more of that.” Of course, that’s a little pat, and you need to see the whole presentation to truly understand. It isn’t “I love mathematics” or “I love kids.” He asked us to dig deeper, go a bit farther. What about mathematics speaks to us? What about working with kids makes us tick? His example: he loves ambiguity. The space between the certainties. And so a lot of his work as a teacher is exploiting those ambiguities with his students to get them to learn mathematics — but also hopefully appreciate (and dare I say, love) ambiguity too?


The other is from a reddit AMA conversation with Kenji Lopez-Alt. He writes the best food blog posts evar! And in this Ask Me Anything, he was asked for advice on starting a food blog:


I’m not posting this because I want to share his advice on starting and maintaining a blog. But I realized why I love his posts is because he does have a specific point of view, and that point of view speaks to me in spades. His passion about the science of foods and sharing his discoveries with others is so apparent. But I suppose what I mean is: he has found something he loves, and is doing more of that. He has a brand. 

I suppose I’m saying that what I’m seeing is that there are a lot of others out there in the math community who have found that thing they love, that specific thing that makes them the teacher they are, the thing they are passionate about, and their blog and twitter conversations tend to revolve around that. They are doing what Kenji suggested — but I’m guessing without even consciously realizing it.

I don’t know, I’m just musing here. But I think ages ago there were “rockstars” and “celebrities” who were well-known — but some of their rockstarness was from being around for a long time and thus having a large network of people they could communicate with in a tightly knit community that was growing. Now I think that may be shifting. I think as we have more people, the MTBoS has a lot of mini-communities that exist within it — it’s a patchwork quilt. And that is a natural and good thing.

And I’m seeing specific people — old and new — speaking with clear voices and messages. This is what I’m passionate about. This is how I enact that passion. This is what I stand for. This is my brand. Hear me roar. [1]

And they are going outside of their schools and our smaller community to bring the thing they love to a larger audience. Creating websites, writing books, leading professional development, etc. They are expanding their brand. (And again, I don’t mean brand in a negative way!)

These are the people that speak to me. They have a voice. And I’m interested in hearing what that voice is saying. I would venture to say that they speak to others for that same reason.

What is so awesome sauce about this is that they are becoming teacher leaders. We don’t have models for what a teacher leader is in the United States. Once you become a teacher, unless you leave the classroom, you will always be a teacher. There are no ranks (except maybe the very expensive National Board certification), and there aren’t well-defined pathways to get more involved in the profession — again, without leaving the classroom. There aren’t a lot of models of those who are effecting change outside their own classroom. Think about it: excluding the MTBoS, can you think of five teacher leaders who are still in the classroom? One? [2]

But I see right now in this community the creation of new models for what a teacher leader can look like. Whether you have five years in the classroom or twenty five, there are pathways that people in the MTBoS are carving out in order to share what they love.  Help other teachers. Impact student lives. And more than anything, this is what I predict will be happening more and more as the community continues to grow and mature. [3]

Back To Me

On a more personal reflective note, I realized I don’t think I have that brand. I think if 10 people were asked in the MTBoS, “what is Sam Shah about?” I doubt there would be a general consensus. Why? Because I don’t think I have figured that out for myself… yet. I know many things about myself as a teacher — I can be reflective as heck at times — but I still don’t think I speak with that voice or brand that so many others I admire do. And that’s not a bad thing at all. It’s just me still figuring stuff out.

[1] Again, I don’t think many would even say they’re aware of it…

[2] This is not a knock on those who have left the classroom to help our profession. I am just saying it’s hard to be a teacher leader and stay in the classroom. And I want to stay in the classroom.

[3] A lot of this part of my thinking came from @pegcagle and @_levi_’s TMC talk.

Add yourself to the MTBoS Directory!

Jed Butler (@mathbutler, blog), in the past week or two, has worked to create a beautiful directory for math teachers who use twitter and who blog. We have had a few spreadsheets out there trying to do the same thing, but they tend to get outdated and lost. This directory is the real deal.

The point of this post is to get you to add yourself to the directory. If you’re already convinced, do it now. If not, read on to why you ought to…


It not only is beautiful, simple, and sleek, but it has the following features which blew me away:

(1) For each person, it creates a little index-card-like profile, which not only has our twitter picture on it but also has links with our interests. I confuse people easily (and really, why are 30% of math teachers named Chris?), and having a little picture icon, and all of their information easy for me to look at is going to be so so so helpful.


(2) It has a map which each person in the directory can easily add themselves to, and this map is searchable. I can, for example, zoom into NYC to see who the NYC educators are… or type my friend’s name into the search bar to remind myself which part of the country (world!) they are in.


(3) The directory itself is crazy searchable. Say you wanted to find teachers who have been teaching since 2000 who are in the Northeast US who teach Geometry and are interested in Groupwork. Done.


(4) If you want to quickly update your information, you can… no muss no fuss it is super easy!

Which is all to say: take 5 minutes and add yourself to the directory.

Teacher Growth, the MTBoS, and TMC14

As usual, going to Twitter Math Camp has caused me to be all reflective and stuff. Barf. About myself and about this online community. And trust me, this self-introspection will be over soon and I’ll be back on my regularly scheduled program of procrastinating doing my prep work for school. But I should probably get it all out first, in one giant word-vomit. Ready? SPEW!

I’m a Hobbit

To begin with, an oft retweeted and favorited thing at TMC was this (and heck, I probably retweeted and favorited it):

I strongly don’t put myself in that category. That isn’t part of who I am. I don’t teach to save the world. I don’t see myself as changing students’s lives, nor is my goal to have students come back to me and say “your class changed my life.” I don’t blog to change math teaching. I don’t have grand ambitions or even care to think on such a large scale. It’s a nice sentiment, but it’s just not me. I’m like a hobbit, happy and content with my little corner. Working at things with a small scale. Getting an ah hah moment, or altering the way a student sees and understands mathematics, or helping a fellow teacher out with this or that. This is what I enjoy doing.

Inadequacy and Change

With that said, a lot of my thoughts around the mathtwitterblogosphere (MTBoS) and TMC in particular have come out of two things:

1. A post by Mo titled “I am a fraud” and as a follow up a post by Lisa Henry titled  “Hi My Name is Lisa” which resonated with me and with many others. Some key lines:

Mo: They were so honest, so completely naked, and I, wanting to join in “fit in” offered some of my fears but then as I awoke today I feel dirty. My heart is heavy, because I lied. Well I didn’t completely lie I just shared certain fears and strengths that manipulated people to see me the way I wanted them to see me. We were all skinny dipping but I had a flesh colored bathing suit on “with painted on abs”… And as I enter my 9th year of teaching, I could be entering my last year. There is a high possibility that I could be going into sales and this conference confirms my movement into that field, because I feel so inadequate….. so beyond inadequate.

Lisa: I am not the best math teacher. I am not an amazing math teacher. I have a LOT of work to do to improve. There. I said it. I wrote it in my blog and I am not taking it back. It is there in print. Ever since I have been involved with the Math Twitterblogosphere (MTBoS for short if you are not familiar), I have felt this inadequacy. I see what other teachers are doing in their classrooms. I have tried some things. Even blogged about what I have tried. But for the most part, I haven’t changed a whole lot in my teaching since I started Twitter almost 5 years ago.

2. A flex session held by Lisa Bejarano which was about how we leave TMC and change things — both in ourselves, and in our schools. I have personal notions about barriers involved changing things in my school, nor do I have the presumptuousness to say that I am The Person To Effect Change or that I Know The Right Ways. Because I too feel very much like Mo and Lisa in that I’m not “there” yet. I’m not a master teacher. However when it came to our discussion of how we change things in ourselves, Lisa B. threw up this great chart on the projector:


At first, I was skeptical. I have this bad habit of seeing charts like this and immediately dismissing them. They take something complex and box it in to something simple. But you know, the more I thought and looked at it, the more it made sense to me.

For example, I’m teaching geometry next year, and I have tons of resources, a vision for what I want the course to look like, I think I have the skills needed, I have the motivation/incentives to do well. But I don’t have a way to go through the massive amounts of ideas and resources to actually move forward. I don’t have an action plan. So I’m in the middle of false starts. And it feels that way.

But what I want to focus on is missing skills — and the resulting anxiety. I was thinking about the times in my classroom when I didn’t just take a little step forward but dove right in to make a big change because I had a bigger vision I wanted to accomplish. I can think of two:

1. Implementing standards based grading in calculus (four years ago)
2. Running a class entirely through group-work (two years ago)

Although I advise people to take baby steps, and change slowly, those times I didn’t take that advice were the times I grew the most as a teacher. Those were also the times I felt the most anxiety. Why? Because I hadn’t yet developed the skills I needed. I didn’t know how to organize standards based grading in a way that would work. I didn’t know how to make sure I would catch the conceptual as well as the procedural in this system, nor how I would get synthesis of skills. I didn’t know how to make sure students worked well together. I didn’t know how to create actvities and lessons so that students would have to rely on each other to progress. But you know what? Without jumping in, I never would have gotten the skills needed.

Let me tell you: those were high anxiety times. They required a lot of emotional energy and a ton of time. But they were also times of immense growth for me.

Personal Inadequacy as Part-of-the-Deal

Now to the “me” part.


I don’t feel like I’m a master teacher or close to it. And I feel confident with that assessment of myself, because who knows me better than me?

As part of that, I also often feel inadequate, and sometimes like a fraud. If I look only at the world of my school, I think I wouldn’t feel this way. I’d feel fine. I’d actually have very little incentive to change, because it’s a lot of work for no extra rewards and I am doing well by the kids (see the chart above). But because there is this much bigger world, which I am exposed to (namely the math-twitter-blogosphere), things are different.

I am constantly exposed to many things online. A lot of them are resources and lessons, but sometimes there are ideas about good teaching that I wouldn’t have access too. Like the importance of mathematical discourse (talking, writing), or to question the nature of assessments and what grades mean, or the importance of having students see each other as mathematical authorities. I am not exposed to these ideas in my school constantly, so I would not think that these are things I believe in. But being bombarded by all the stuff out there online and at TMC, and seeing what resonates with me (or what inspires me to change), is helping me (probably subconsciously) evolve my personal, theoretical framework about teaching and learning (thanks Dan Meyer).

And that is where the anxiety comes in. Because now my bar about what is good teaching has been thrust upwards. And now I have to work on reaching it. It isn’t that I feel competitive with others, but that I feel competitive with myself [1]. I have a drive to be my personal best, and to do the best by my kids.

So because of this exposure to great ideas for the classroom, and bigger ideas about what makes an effective classroom, I get caught up in feeling like I’m not doing a good job, and the anxiety hits me. And sometimes this nadir will last for months. I don’t feel like I’m doing a good enough job in the classroom. I haven’t given any formative assessments. Kids aren’t engaging in real mathematical discussion. I haven’t improved at all from the previous year. Heck, maybe I’ve even de-evolved. And I get in this cycle of anxiety. It sucks.

But it’s a double edged sword, because it is this anxiety that drives me, that pushes me. I enjoy the intellectual challenge it gives me. And at least for me, it’s this anxiety and this feeling of inadequacy, coupled with my own personal desire to better myself, that provides a productive tension. I recognize in myself that I need those lows and those feelings of anxiety in order to get better. It’s part of my own personal growth process. And as much as I wish I could be confident and grow without the feelings of inadequancy, I’ve come to realize that’s what works for me. At least for me.

I end with a tweet from Jami Danielle who pretty much summed this up for me, and makes this whole post just a bunch of verbal spewage (didn’t I say that at the beginning)?:




[1] I suspect, though I do not know, that all this talk about “inadequacy” and how it resonates with so many people in the MTBoS and at TMC is tied up in some sort of cycle like this. Because of this, I don’t think it’s something to be “fixed” (e.g. how can we make it so when people come to TMC they don’t feel like crappy teachers?). At least I wouldn’t want someone to “fix” it for me.

Musings on the 180 blog

I’m at Twitter Math Camp 2014. Normally my inclination at a conference is to take a moment to recap the day from start to finish, as an archive to what I learned. Little things, big things, trying to capture every little morsel. Instead, I think I’ll just write about one thing I’ve been thinking about today, based on sessions and conversations.

180 blogs: Mine from this year

This was prompted due from a 30 minute mini-sesh that Justin Aion had around his 180 blogging adventure this year. For those not in the know, a 180 blog is something teachers started doing a couple years ago — posting once a day.  (It is called a 180 blog because there are supposed to be — though I definitely don’t have — at least 180 school days in an academic year.)

The difference between regular blogs and 180 blogs are that 180 blogs tend to be a single snippet, every day. Sometimes it is just a photograph. Sometimes it’s just a paragraph. Sometimes it’s a brief reflection. And you know what? You know what?

I kept a 180 blog last year too. And I just realized I never mentioned it on this blog, nor did I ever give it a post-mortem or reflection. So tonight, the first evening of TMC14 inspired by a mini-session, that is what I am going to do.

My 180 blog all started because I have an incredible colleague and friend at my school who I know would get along with this community of math teachers online like gangbusters. I wanted to bring him into this world, but it stressed him out too much, and moreso, he didn’t have that much time. I took a stab at ensnaring him by showing him the idea of the 180 blog. It has a low barrier of entry. It involves only 5 minutes a day. And it has a basic structure to it that he could routinize: make a post each day. He agreed! We would both keep a joint 180 blog!

And thus: the very cleverly named ShahKinnell180 blog was born. (Click on the image to be taken there!) [1]


Back to Justin’s TMC talk. He spoke about how he wanted his 180 blog to be centered around reflectiveness. And I think that many people do use them for that. However I was 100% sure that reflectiveness wasn’t something I was looking for.

Besides getting my colleague/friend involved in this online math teacher world, I think my reasons for wanting to do this are as follows:

  • I wanted a little archive of my teaching life. So the only rule I had in making it was that I would post a picture every day, and a few words. Nothing expansive, nothing overwhelming. I had in mind those people who take a photograph of themselves everyday for a year, and then splice them all together, resulting in this whole pastiche of the passage of time? I revel in the fact that I now have this little slice of my teaching life all beautifully laid out. Visual. Chronological. And what I kinda love the most: just like the blog is filled with snapshots of things that happened to me-as-teacher (usually from my classes, though not always), the blog itself is now a snapshot of who I am as a teacher.Although I haven’t done this yet (why not??? well I didn’t even think about writing about it here until after it was done for a whole year! so who knows where my head is at), I would love to send it to my parents. Heck, it’s a great way for non-teachers (wow, this could be awesome for teachers-to-be too!) to see a depiction of what people in our profession do, what we get our kids to do, what we think about, what experiences we have. It’s like a regular blog, but less reading — perfect for skimming and being non-threatening!
  • I wanted something to keep me on the lookout for the good. My brain constantly tells me I am not good at what I do. And I am someone who can obsess over what’s not going right and just skip over the juicy deliciousness in front of me. (I was that kid in high school who would take a test, get stuck on one or two questions, and leave saying I knew I did horribly on it… not because I was being modest, but because I would focus totally on what I didn’t know, instead of seeing things in perspective.) All this brings me back to a few years ago when I was a contributor on the “One Good Thing” blog (my posts on that blog are here). If you don’t know about that blog, it is a collaborative blog where teachers just write something good — anything good — that happened. Big or small. The tagline to the blog is: “every day may not be good, but there is one good thing in every day.” That’s some powerful stuff. And you know what? Because I was posting on that blog, I had a shift in my mindset. Even in my worst days, especially in my worst days, I would force myself think back through the day for something good. And heck if I couldn’t find something. And then I started paying more attention to the good that was happening when it was happening (I would think: “Heck yes! I need to blog this!”).I wanted my 180 blog to remind me that I do good things in the classroom. Even when I feel like I’m stagnant, when I’m not innovating, when my kids are lost and I’m at fault… I wanted my 180 blog to keep me on the lookout for things that I should feel proud of. Not every post is a “feel good” post on my 180 blog, but the point is: I was constantly on the lookout for something I would want to post about or an image I wanted to save from the day.
  • Finally, and probably least important to me, I wanted something to keep me accountable to being a good teacher. This probably sounds a bit weird… but as a regular blogger, I noticed I would get extra enthusiastic about something when I knew I was doing something or creating something and realized I could blog it. When my classroom wasn’t the only audience, and when what we did just disappeared in the temporal aether. Perhaps a 180 blog would help me do the same?

I don’t have any grand pronouncements from the experiment. I definitely didn’t learn anything about teaching from keeping the 180 blog. I am almost certain I will not return to the 180 blog for teaching ideas, or to see how a particular lesson went. I definitely did not become a better teacher because I kept the blog. (At least not in any tangible way.)

But here’s the thing: looking at this experiment on the whole, I am beyond thrilled I started my 180 blog and kept up with it. Why? Because when I have moments (be it days, weeks, or even month-long-stretches) when I feel like I’m not doing a good job, I simply can pull up the blog and browse through it and recognize:

I don’t do the same things every day. I am thoughtful about stuff a bunch of the time. I have pretty great kids who do some pretty great and possibly hilarious things that are worth recording/remembering. 

Which them reminds me: I’m lucky that I get to do what I do. I enjoy thinking about what I get to think about. I really do enjoy working with kids (which definitely needs reminding because… well kids are rarely easy). And that: if this is my job, if this is what I get to do and get paid for it, then things are pretty great.

180 blogs: An idea for the future

So as I noted, I was blogging mainly to archive. And archive I did. I have no desire to archive again next year. However I had been thinking at the TMC14 session I was at: is there anything that could get me to do another 180 blog?

And I dawned on the answer. I could create a 180 blog around one specific thing I was working on as a teacher. And this 180 blog would force me to stay accountable.


  • I’m not an expert at deep questioning in the math classroom. So I would be forced to blog about one question I asked, if I had time write about some of the context in which the question was asked, and what happened when I asked it in the math classroom. I would then briefly evaluate whether the questioning was good and/or if there was a better way to have asked the question.
  • I am trying to make groupwork the central way kids in my classes learn. So I could write one blogpost each day about how I facilitated some part of groupwork — either in the planning of the class, during the class, or after the class.
  • I am trying to be more conscientious about formative assessments. So I vow to have one formative assessment each day in one of my classes (not even all of them! just one!). It doesn’t have to be even a big one… even a 10 second “thumbs up if you get this, thumbs to the side if you’re slightly confused, and thumbs down if you’re totally lost” counts.
  • I struggle with wait time. So each day, I vow to record with a timer how many seconds I wait after one question (only one question!), and I post the question and the wait time on the blog.
  • I know I’m terrible at “closing” class. I have kids work until the end, we rarely take the time to summarize what we did, the big questions we tackled, the big questions we have lingering. Very often it is: “Eeep, sorry, we’re out of time. Check the course conference for your nightly work. Missyouloveyou!” Okay, maybe not the missyouloveyou part, but you know what I’m talking about. So blogging about the close of one class each day.

I’m not saying I’m going to do anything of these. If I do, it will definitely only be one of them. But the idea is that it is targeted about something I want to improve upon, and doing it will hold me accountable.


[1] As a follow up, my colleague who did the 180 blog with me blogged many — but not all — days. But heck if he’s not been so inspired that he’s starting Geogebrart, his own blog about making art with geogebra which has been knocking my socks off this summer. Once you peruse his entries on our 180 blog and you peruse his new Geogebrart blog, you probably understand why I feel lucky beyond belief to get to work with this guy!

My Wunderkammer: A Visual Resume

About 6 years ago, I remember receiving a stack of resumes for a math teaching job. We were looking to hire someone to join our department, and there were so many resumes and cover letters to go through. Over 50, maybe around 100. And my eyes started glazing over. The resumes looked similar, and the cover letters were banal. And then: one applicant stuck out.

It was a cover letter that gave a link to a really simple website, and on that website was an educational philosophy, a few sample tests, and some student work. Although it was pretty basic, what I liked was that on that simple site I got a much better sense of who this candidate was. I loved the idea. And I decided then and there that I would create my own teaching portfolio online that would capture who I was as a teacher.

This past summer, I did it.

To be clear: this isn’t a reflective teacher portfolio.  It’s a descriptive teacher portfolio. It is something that I put together — a mishmash of snippets — that together hopefully gives a solid sense of who I am, what I do, what I believe in. I think calling it a visual teaching resume or a wunderkammer best describes it. (Click on the image to go to the site.)


There are a few missing things that I would like to add to this site at some oint:

  • I would like to add everyday samples of student work. Not projects. Just everyday stuffs.
  • I would like to add a section about the two week history of science course I designed and implemented with another teacher this year. (See Days 80-87 on my 180 blog for more.)
  • I would like to add a section about the “Explore Math” project (more info here and here) I did in Precalculus this year.
  • I would like to finish the student quotation page. I actually have quotations typed for a number of previous years, but I do not have more recent years ready.

It was pretty simple to make (I used the free website creator weebly) and I hope if I ever were to go on the job market, it would catch the eyes of whoever had the giant stack of cover letters and resumes in front of them. I wasn’t really going to make a post about my visual resume, or share it with anyone, because I thought: who would care?

But heck: maybe someone out there is going on the job market and thinks the idea is worth replicating? So I decided to post.

Mission #8: Sharing is Caring in the MTBoS


Here I’m reblogging our last mission from the Explore the #MTBoS!

Originally posted on Exploring the MathTwitterBlogosphere:

It’s amazing. You’re amazing. You joined in the Explore the MathTwitterBlogosphere set of missions, and you’ve made it to the eighth week. It’s Sam Shah here, and whether you only did one or two missions, or you were able to carve out the time and energy to do all seven so far, I am proud of you.

I’ve seen so many of you find things you didn’t know were out there, and you tried them out. Not all of them worked for you. Maybe the twitter chats fell flat, or maybe the whole twitter thing wasn’t your thang. But I think I can be pretty confident in saying that you very likely found at least one thing that you found useful, interesting, and usable.

With that in mind, we have our last mission, and it is (in my opinion) the best mission. Why? Because you get to do something…

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