This post on the site “stuff white people like” is just so dead on that it’s hilarious. Not the whole “white people” part of it (I’m not white), but everything else. One of the best quotations:

At this point, they can feel superior to graduate school and say things like “A PhD is a testament to perseverance, not intelligence.”  They can also impress their friends at a parties [sic] by referencing Jacques Lacan or Slavoj Zizek in a conversation about American Idol.

That’s (embarrassingly?) exactly how I feel about a PhD. And what’s even sicker? (No, no, I haven’t invoked Lacan when talking about Idol… or any reality show.) Today we had a middle and upper school “instrumental” (which means that the school’s various musical ensembles performed for all of us). And I was sitting next to one of the dance teachers. And she commented on how much the conductors’ movements were like dances — expressive and distinct for each one. And I, appropos of the quote above, responded with a comment about “embodied knowledge.”

Working towards (and deciding to stop working towards) a PhD has forever transmogrified me into an intellectual snob.  —He says, as he glances over at the book (Tom Clancey) he’s reading, the DVD case (Gilmore Girls) of what’s in the DVD player, and the giant red plastic lobster that’s on top of his bookshelf.

Yesterday I watched “King of Kong,” and a while ago I fell in love with “Spellbound.” Both of those movies are documentaries about strange subcultures of people — where the norms and values of these subjects are so foreign to the viewer that it’s a bit of an anthropological expedition.

While watching “King of Kong” I decided that a movie needs to be made about a mathcamp somewhere.

Some backstory: I went to mathcamp. Twice. And I was a counselor there once.

Those summers (especially those during high school) were transformative. I was one of those kids who were freakishly [1] good at math, astounded by the elegant beauty of it all, and I just got it. And I was always hunting for more. I would pick up second hand math books and study them, did the AMC (then AHSME) competitions, and did the write-in USAMTS competition. I was on my first high school’s math team (my second high school didn’t have one). And still, that wasn’t enough. I wanted to go to a place to study math for 5 weeks.

Seriously.

(more…)

xkcd is one of my favorite websites; I check it more than I check the NYT. And today’s xkcd is genius — the best one I’ve seen in a long time. And useful pedagogically, to show how to read a coordinate plane.

Without further ado: xkcd 388

Today I had one of those “teachable moments” that teachers talk about, when the stars align, the opportunity presents itself, and you deviate from your lesson and really capitalize on what’s going on around you.

On Friday there was an incident at my school; a threat was made to one of the students, and there was an implied threat to the community at large. The school was put on lockdown (which means that students weren’t allowed to leave for lunch). Without going into details of the specifics, it caused a bit of panic among members of the community who didn’t know what was going on or why (students, teachers, and parents).

Today, the teachers had a meeting before school, the students and the teachers had a community meeting at the start of school, and then in homeroom advisers were instructed to talk about the incident with their advisees.

My homeroom didn’t really want to talk, much, which is fine. However, when my first period calculus class met, they were in a tizzy to talk about it. They said they didn’t get to finish what they were talking about in homeroom, or their homeroom teacher didn’t really let them talk about it, and they wanted to have that conversation.

I put down my book, and we had today’s “teachable moment.” I let them talk, I would sometimes interject my opinion or get them to think about what they were saying critically, I didn’t defend or attack anyone’s thoughts, I just let the dialogue unfold. Students talked to each other, got things off their chests, and really thought about the situation. Finally, when they were done, I suggested that they write down all their thoughts and feelings about this incident and how it was handled by the administration now before they forget. Those views will be useful when the faculty meet to talk about the administration’s handling of the threat.

Yeah, we didn’t get through some basic integration stuff. But guess what? This. Was. More. Important.

It’s cold outside, and I’m bored inside.

I decided to spend some time making an image archive of math things for my SmartBoard presentations. Using Flickr, I found some choice images which I culled together[1]:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/92124730@N00/favorites

Also, I had a thought. What if we used a ; instead of a ‘? Typographically, wouldn;t that look so much more appealing? I;ve been thinking about this, and at least in serif fonts, this holds true. It might become my “thing.”

[1] dy/dan would say that I’m doing things backwards. First we need content, and then the image should be there to engage, not just entertain. But you know what? I think pictures and vibrant colors which show some prettiness will be damn good enough for now.

When browsing the blogs today, I came across this post about childhood privileges on a blog about the politics of access. I definitely recommend clicking on the link below and seeing what he has to say.

All the popular blogs are doing it.From: What Privileges Do You Have? – based on an exercise about class and privilege developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University. (If you participate in this blog game, they ask that you PLEASE acknowledge their copyright.) [Jose Vilson]

1. Father went to college.
2. Father finished college.
3. Mother went to college.
4. Mother finished college.
5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor.
6. Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers.
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.
8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children’s books by a parent.
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18 assuming that sport counts.
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18 assuming that sport counts.
12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively.
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18.
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs.
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs
16. Went to a private high school
17. Went to summer camp
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels.
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18.
22. There was original art in your house when you were a child.
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house.
24. Your parent(s) owned their own house or apartment before you left home.
25. You had your own room as a child.
26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18.
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course.
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school.
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college.
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16.
31. Went on a cruise with your family.
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family.
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up.
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family.

Can a school day last 18 hours?, because that’s what today felt like. Every so often at my school, Tuesdays get cut short for the kids (each class is 5 minutes shorter, and homeroom is nixed) who get to scurry home at 2pm. Of course, what’s good for the goose is not always good for the gander. On days like today, all teachers have to go to their professional development groups from 2:30-5pm. Mine is a group for new faculty.

But yeah, the day seemed really, really, really, really long, because of that. The kids were off schedule, I was off schedule, and each subsequent period I felt like I was just trying to catch up from the period before.

One of the worst things happened during my first two classes, which put a really horrid spin on the day: the smartboard didn’t work. The projector had overheated. I know I should be able to cope without the smartboard, but I had such a good lesson on logs for one class, and I was teaching hard new material to the other class.

And I failed miserably in the second class. I should have just scrapped my lesson plan and taught the material off the top of my head. But instead, I emailed my students a pdf of my smartboard presentation and we tried to work off of that.

Worst. Idea. Ever.

I should have just taught the material off the cuff. It would have been less discombobulated, less forced, less confusing. Basically, I am scrapping the lesson to the bin of failed lessons, and reteaching it our next class.

Technology, sometimes I think I love you more than you love me.