320/365

we’re staring at a puddle brimming with tadpoles
this student and me on an outdoor ed day trip
in the heat, on a path, somewhere, in a city, in asia:
they seem so tiny and ill-equipped to what is bound
to happen to them when this incubator reservoir
dries up, leaving a dark mud stain before evaporating
into a unremarkable memory.

untethered symbionts.  

one kid mentions a condition where bones grow faster
than muscles causing painful strains. one kid points
out two birds of prey and a little egret. one kid complains
he rarely leaves his gaming chair. one kid laughs at all my jokes.

in the end, we took a wrong turn from a straight line and got lost
missing the highlight of the walk, instead eating lunch under
the tar smoke of the industrial area crawling with muddy lorries:

it’s not an adventure if you don’t get lost, i say chewing a salty
almond as we stare past a barb wired fence at the approaching storm.
 
comforted
by the fact
that the tadpoles
will be okay
for another day.

169/365

middle school teaching

is a thankless life.

the human adolescent

is rarely effusive with

gratitude or appreciation.

the typical teacher

could tear out their heart

and offer it to the abyss

of angst and ennui

and it would be devoured

with little fanfare.

but all it takes

is one kid,

every year,

to reach out

from the darkness

and say:

a big thank you

for everything you've taught me

this year in class,

and how it’s a great foundation

for high school.

i have definitely cherished

the time i’ve spent in grade eight english,

and i am grateful for all your guidance.

i was not motivated for

(and DESPISE poetry)

english class quite a bit initially,

but then you have taught me things

that allowed me to improve to the point

where i have been able to change my mindset

and eventually been able to produce work

of a higher standard.

to top it all

i can write poetry now.

i can proudly say that english

is one of my favourite subjects.

while i have a long way to go,

you've made me understand

that english can be an art in itself

and there's no "right way to do something.”

in fact, i realise

that i am able to express myself

more clearly

and it is rather liberating.

in terms of what I’ve learnt

as a human being:

i’ve learnt that there is so much

to do and discover in life;

it's good to have faith in humanity.

i used to be mad at the world

i thought life was going to be so bad

in adulthood.

i dreaded going to high school

as from that moment on

i would never be "free" again.

then you've taught me

there are so many good things

that life brings and basic gratitude

towards the things we have

will make us enjoy

them all the more.

thank you

for being an

extremely patient,

understanding

and amazing teacher this year.

(an adult who doesn't

stereotype teenagers

but understands us)

i could write an essay

expressing more gratitude,

but i don't think you'd appreciate

having to read yet another one from me.

have a great summer,

and i’ll definitely keep in touch.

sincerely,

a human adolescent.

112/365

it’s a good day
when in the end
you smell like smoke
and have marshmallow goo
in your beard,
and dirt beneath
your fingers,
and a thin film
of perspiration
covers your body,
and you watch kids
hold a rooster
for the first time,
and when you’re sitting
around a fire
and the moon
is brighter than
it should be,
and the fire holds
the kids like a magnet
as they laugh and shout
stupid jokes,
each one vying
for attention,
and you jump in
with your lame humor
laced with sarcasm
and wisdom,
and you eat fruit
and take photos
of droplets,
and you breathe
and you breathe

and
you
breathe.

15/365

more poems escaped
than were captured today:
the holes in the net
too wide
to yield a bounty
of any value
or worth.

in the morning
my students
put up a good fight
and caught a few
with my help.

words about:
time
gratitude
refugees
orca captivity
being ignored.

“a poem is like a maze
you have to explore every lead
but you might not always make it out.”

they wrote and re-wrote
and re-re-wrote for an hour straight.
tinkering under the hood
turning the poems inside out
and poking at their guts.
knocking them over
to see what might spill out.

“take a risk.
get weird.
you never now what poetry
can be found inside you
around you.”

The Voices

I’ve been thinking about this talk for weeks.

After three years together what do I want to leave you with. What is one last thing I can teach you? One last message that I was not able to convey in assemblies or on service trips, in English class or Life Skills, during activities, or in the hallways?

How can I sum up the myriad of lessons I still want to teach you in a five min speech?

I had a whole outline designed about the power of living the mission. I even wrote half of it but then I heard the voice.

I have been hearing the voice since I was your age. And judging by the way you all look at me sometimes I have no doubt that you hear the voice too.

The voice of which I speak is the voice of the cynic. And I think it is hatched when we turn 13.

• The voice of the cynic is mistrustful and scared. It is insecure and afraid to take chances. 
• The voice of the cynic wants to be accepted and becomes louder in crowds, putting people and ideas  down in order to feel popular. 
• The voice of the cynic loves the status quo, cliques and political parties. 
• The voice of the cynic is selfish and easily bored. It rolls its eyes and sighs heavily. 
• The voice of the cynic sees the worst in every situation and rarely tries. It sees failure where others see opportunity. 
• The voice of the cynic gossips and complains, highlighting problems and ridicules solutions. 

The voice of the cynic could go on and on and on.

You see. It is loud even for me.

I was going to start with the mission, but the voice told me:

They won’t want to hear it. They are sick and tired of the mission and the skills and qualities. And the elements and the smiling posters of kids and the slogans and the whole thing.

And so with the voice yelling, I sat at my computer alone in the silence.

Like I so often do after spending time on Twitter or in the comments of articles online. You see the cynical voice loves the internet, because it is echoed there, full blast- on repeat.

But there is another voice. Close your eyes. Listen. What else do you hear? Can you hear it? What might it say?

• This is the voice of the idealist. The dreamer. The artist. The activist. The writer. The teacher. This is the voice of love and generosity, of revolution and learning.
• The voice of the idealist is trustful and unafraid. It is secure and courageous. 
• The voice of the idealist doesn’t need to be accepted and doesn’t put things down in order to feel popular. The voice of the idealist seeks out the voiceless and champions the underdog. 
• The voice of the idealist loves diversity and has a tolerance for ambiguity. 
• The voice of the idealist is selfless and never bored. It smiles and hugs and dances alone. 
• The voice of the idealist sees the best in every situation and always tries its best. It sees solutions where others see problems. 
• The voice of the idealist listens more than it speaks.  
• The voice of the idealist could go on and on and on.

So my message to you is this-

You will hear both voices for years to come. You might be in class, or on trips, at parties or all alone and you will have to decide which voice to listen to.

I am not so naive as to expect you to ignore the cynical voice and follow the ideal, because the cynic in me knows better than that.

But I can ask that you to try and listen to both. Question both. And in any given situation ask yourself which voices is needed and why?

In a short time you will walk into the Main Hall with 200 of your classmates. It will be awkward and weird and exciting and awesome. You might not know what to with your hands or where to go when you walk in. You will look for familiar faces and open arms to let you know that you belong.

The cynic will tell you to judge and make fun and exclude. To stand with the pack and wait.

The idealist will tell you to jump and dance and sing and build a group, a tribe, a community that includes everyone.

The one thing I ask of you on this night is tell the cynic in you to take a break.

This is your night to celebrate and have fun. This is the idealists night. Listen as it tells you to ask that boy or girl to dance. To invite other groups to join you on the dance floor. To take photos and smile. To be alive and bask in the voice of the idealist in you.

Thank you all for bringing so much joy in my life for the last three years. It has been my pleasure to be your head of grade. You have taught me more than you will ever know.

Have a great night. You have earned it. I love you and let the party begin.

Walk Away

Overheard today during my duty at lunch in the Grade 8 pod:


Student One: Did you check out that Frank Zappa I sent you.
Student Two: Yeah. It was okay. Pretty weird though.
Me: Wait are you guys talking about Frank Zappa?
Student Two: Yeah.
Me: Wow. That’s pretty impressive.
Student Two: Yeah, student one is a rock music expert.
Student One: Actually I am more of a fusion jazz expert.
Me: Carry on boys. Carry on.


I walked away.


…


Me: I just planned to say exactly what I wanted and then had to temper it way down so as not to upset people.
Richard: And that is the very nature of leadership.


…


A sixth grade shared some of his writing with me in class today. He showed me a few leads he was working on, using the mentor text as a model. He is not the strongest writer, but he seemed so please with his work. I high fived him. We smiled. I could see in his eyes that he finally understood that writing is not a magical trait some people possess. It is the everyday practice of working on skills and getting better.


…


My brain is pretty fired right now. Long day, behind the eight ball today. Played a lot of catch up and then a 3 hour after school meeting and a few hours of work at home. Feeling better about where I am, but not well enough to write much more than this.


It is early in the evening and I need some entertainment and escape. Atlanta final episode is on cue and I am looking forward to some extended reading tonight.

Riddles Unravelled

That was a fourteen hour day. Took the grade 8s to Pasir Park for some play time. Then a moving on ceremony. And finally, an Oscar themed semi-formal. Needless to say I am exhausted.


Here is my speech for my group this year:


How do you measure a year of schooling in three to five minutes? Especially a year as important as grade 8?
How do you sum up the experiences of 23 people?
Well, according to a famous Broadway musical you count our lives...


In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
In five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?


I guess I measure in snippets, in images, in groggy morning conversations. We spent a lot of time together, as most mentor classes do, and during that time we learned a lot about each other through morning meetings, planning events, rafting down rivers, conferring about writing, discussing books and movies and current events. We learned about each other in hallway chats, in between classes and laying around waiting for class to start.


We learned that we are an eclectic bunch. I like to compare ourselves to Indonesia. We are 17,000 different islands, with our own cultures and languages and customs, but somehow we come together when needed. We are dancers and musicians and equestrians. We love lego and dinosaurs, comic books and philosophy. We talk about animal rights and the start of the universe. We are swimmers and footballers and black belt champions. We are unique. We are enigmas. We are riddles waiting to be unraveled. Each and every one of us.


We aren’t the most outspoken group. There are a few of us in class who are like vaults. Involved. Engaged and Listening, but you wouldn’t call us chatty. I mean like we rarely spoke, but that didn’t stop us from forming a cohesive group that to put it simply: gets a long.


On any given day, if you walk into our mentor class, you would find different groups chatting, socializing and being kind to one another.


We joke. We laugh. We work hard. When push comes to shove we get things done. We plan Dragon Cup events and produce creative letters home. We prepare service events for people with disabilities, but we also take the time to play with them, talk to them dance with them. We are not embarrassed by much because we are brave and relish our eccentricities. We don’t care much what other think about us.


We might need an extra push, but I have learned to try and temper my yelling, because this group has never let me down when I needed them. I joke that they do everything super slowly…we even have a song for it, well I have a song for it- Do you guys want to sing it as a group?


SLOW MOTION JRA…..then I clap a few times, yell Come on! Come on! Let’s do this! Which is when they roll up their sleeves and get to the task at hand. We are a relaxed group, often unconcerned about winning or over exerting ourselves. We seldom let things get us down. We work We play. We go with the flow.


It’s always difficult to say goodbye. I feel like I could use another year with this group. But as a famous poet once said, like “the sands in an hour glass so pass the days of our lives.”


So often when 8th grades don the blue shirt and leave our hallowed halls, they forget about us or worse ignore us when we say hello in the canteen or tent plaza. Please don’t be strangers. This is true for all of the students out there. These communities that we build, these relationships that we foster, these bonds that we form are meant to last for much longer than one academic school year. Your mentors want to see who you become. We want to see touches of ourselves in your dreams and your successes.


I look forward to hearing about each and everyone one of them. Have a well earned rest, read lots of books and have a great time in High School. I am proud of the fact that together we can say- You are ready for the next stage in your life. Get out there and grab it.

Poor Planning

The plan:
Leave school after one drink after the Leaver’s Farewell event. Try to get a quick run in, it has been two weeks since I last run, then go to Kaia’s skate class and cruise the ramps for an hour.

Reality:

Stayed till 4:30 had three glasses of wine, stopped at McDonald’s had a large fries with BBQ sauce, an apple pie and a coke. Kaia’s session was cancelled, so I came home groggy and full- ditched the run and played guitar for a while, cooked a meal for Kaia’s class party tomorrow, put the kids to bed and marked for the last three hours.

Two stories:
1. The cooking
2. The marking

1. Kaia came up to me a few days ago and said that she needed to take a savory dish for her class party and she didn’t want to take any American food because it was boring. She wanted to know if we could cook something from Iran. I am not sure where her sudden curiosity or interest in Persian food came from, but I was stoked to hear it. After dinner we went in the kitchen and cooked a dish that I am not even sure is Iranian, but my mom used to make it and I loved it. It’s a rice dish with grated carrots, raisins and cinnamon.

I had Iran on my mind today because I was chatting with Luke about a trip he is considering to Iran. I would love to go back again and explore some more. I have not been since 2004 and it was beautiful that time I went. Also the day got me thinking about culture and nationalistic pride. I don’t have much to say about it, just thinking.

2. You might rightfully be asking why the hell I was marking student work three days after grades have been entered in mid-june and a week before school ends. The easy answer poor planning. I had six classes worth of work come in after grades were turned-in.

Because we had a few large scale assessments during this term and we do mid-unit formative check-ins and we do enough conferencing to know where most kids are at any given time, I felt fine giving grades without this latest assessment. The trouble was that even after the kids realized that their work didn’t “count” for their grade, they just kept working and writing and improving. It was really something spectacular to see. They have known for days that this “assignment” would not be officially graded, but that did not stop them from continuing to improve their writing right up to the last week of school.

I felt I owed it to them to read their work and give them some kind of feedback and validation for their time and effort. And so, every night this week, I have been plugging away and tonight I went in for the long haul. This marking was the last huge thing before the year ends. Sure we have another week and I need to move classrooms, get my head around next year, and a million other things, but the official curricular work is done and dusted.

Come on summer. I can taste that California air and San Rafael is an arm’s length away.

Search Of The Void

I started running east on East Coast park toward the sailing club and the airport. I wasn’t sure how far I was going to go, but I felt good out of the gates and decided not to look at my watch for as long as I could.


The sun was low in the sky and a soft breeze eased the normal humid assault and my run began smooth. All systems were a go. I was no longer worried that my short three week hiatus had done any permanent damage. My legs, lungs, heart and mind were all sound and I was running in search of the “void” as Murakami calls it. My thoughts were light and nimble and didn’t linger too long in my head. I was running light and fresh, and I made it well passed the sailing club, all the way out of East Coast park, near where the craziness starts at the airport. I had run for nearly an hour and 8kms without looking at my watch once. This is rare for me and it felt good.


I did not stop at this point and was able to get to 10km pretty easily. I love that 10km has become my new 5km. It hurts and it is not super easy, but I can run 8-10 pretty comfortably at this point.


I was cruising at a steady clip when the running path ended and I wasn’t sure where to go. There were a few big on-ramps and I figured that I could simply do a loop and run a few kilometers along the side of the ECP freeway and make my way back to the park and get home in around 13km.


I was running along side the ECP when I saw a sign that said Changi Airport. What the hell? I realised I had run in the wrong direction. Too tired and confused to turn around, (I guess I didn't learn that lesson the other day) I just kept going. Until the PIE exit, which brought me back into the Changi Industrial Park and eventually back to Xilin Road and the Expo. Meanwhile for most of that section I had no ideas where I was. I was simply walking and running and making my way forward. It felt tiring but forceful. I was accruing mileage step by step.


I was meant to be home much earlier as it was my turn to make dinner for the kids, but I knew I wanted to get to 15km. I had come all this way and I couldn’t just hop in a cab yet. Eventually, I hit 15.35km averaging about 7:10 minutes a kilometer. At this point, I was so late and the cab was so easy that I hopped in and went home. I could have pushed a nit more, but nonetheless this run felt pretty damn perfect.


This is the farthest I have ever run and there is no major damage; the body and mind are sound. I will play in this 10-15km range for a few runs and then push one out to two hours and 17km. This Half-Marathon is beginning to feel doable.


…

One easy way to get to know students and brighten their day in a very simple way is to stand outside your classroom before and after classes and greet them as they walk in and say good bye as they walk out. You can also chat kids up as they walk by. A few high-fives, good mornings, what you up to’s or a random piece of ongoing conversation can go a long way. I have many nods and hellos and hallway connections with kids I don’t even teach. It often puts me in a better mood to be out there. Sure I can hunker down in my room and catch up on email or check Facebook, but I have made an effort this year to be out there and visible and it has been fantastic.


This hallway time can be a great time to let kids know that there are people in their daily lives at school who will say hello and smile at them. In a big busy school, sometimes just that little bit of attention can go a long way. It is also a good time to remind kids about things you’ve brought up in the passed or ask about how a rehearsal is going or how a game they played went.


It can be a time to connect student projects and ideas. I have a 7th grade girl in my class who is a very talented singer and after Soul Asylum, where she sang an original song, I asked her to send me an mp4. She did and it is fantastic. I also have a group of kids who have been helping document our work at Off Tangent by recording promo videos and other events we ask them to cover. They are a voluntary, in-house film production crew and they call themselves Zeelo.


Anyway, this morning I saw the singer and mentioned how blown away I was by her song and how I wished there was a video for it, so more people could experience it. I asked if she would be interested in such an idea. She is shy and not very sure, but she shrugged and said that would be cool. I told her about Zeelo and asked if she would mind if I asked Zeelo about maybe making a video for her. She said that would be a cool idea.


Minutes later I ran into the main person in Zeelo and asked if she would be interested in shooting and directing a music video. She said of course. So tomorrow in the hallway, I will tell the singer that the connection has been made, I will connect them via email and hopefully Zeelo will shoot her video. None of this would be possible if I wasn't out in the hall, mingling and chatting up the kids.

…

I am currently rocking a goatee and weird long side burns look. If you are wondering why I would do this to my face, when it is not even Movember, let me clear the air. The first and most obvious answer is I don’t know. I am bored I guess. I don’t want to see them same face in the mirror everyday.


But if that excuse is not enough, as I am sure it s not for Mairin here are a few other reasons in no particular order:

• I will be involved in a Big Lewbowski night this Friday and some kind of weird facial hair seems like an obvious pre-requisite. 
• I am prepping for a healthy beard and giving the slower growing sections a head start. 
• I can. 
• I was inspired by the weird facial hair in the film Everybody Wants Some. 

Did I mention I am bored?

School Are Amazing Places

“Practice kindness all day to everybody and you will realize you’re already in heaven now.”
Jack Kerouac


School are amazing places. You wanna know why? Because they are filled with kids. And people who love kids and want to give them awe-inspiring experiences. Schools are places where teachers create rock shows and magazine launches. Schools are places where kids can be athletes and scientists. Schools can be places where kids are challenged to question and research and explore and wonder. Schools are places where kids dance and plant trees and hike and run meetings. Schools are places where kids build friendships, identies and 3-D printed design projects.


It’s where they write poetry, solve equations and fall in love for the first time. School is where kids find themselves one year, only to lose themselves a year later. School is where kids find confidence and take risks. It is where they test out their jokes and command a stage for the first time. A school is a place where they can leave the orbit of their parents for a few hours a day and see which other galaxies they might find themselves in. Schools are places where kids skin their knees, break their bones and learn to get back up. It’s the place where kids have to learn to fight back or to resolve conflicts between friends. Schools are where kids learn how to socialise around a meal or to eat alone. Schools are places where kids shred a guitar solo or forget the lyrics of the third verse. Schools are places where kids roam the halls looking for friends. It’s where they stand up to bullies, learn to talk to adults to demand their rights. Schools teach kids how to be activists, citizens and free-thinkers.


Schools are the most beautiful and important places in our societies. I am here tonight to challenge the narrative that schools are broken.


I am tired of constantly starting every conversation about how schools are places in need of drastic change, disruption or re-imagining.


(Before I continue, I want to acknowledge that I realise that I am blessed to work in a well-resourced school. I work at a top internationals school, where we are wanting for little. I want to be sensitive to people who might be reading this post who work in schools that are structurally damaged and morale vacant buildings. I have worked in such schools and I know it is hard to do your job in such environments.)


But even in such places, I refuse to continue to start every conversation about school that highlights the conceptual idea of school as a place of deficit. I’ve heard all the complaints. Hell, I have lobbed many of them myself: The curriculum is too intense, too much content, too many skills, too many tests, not student-driven enough, not enough tech, too much tech.


When we spread the narrative that schools are inherently broken we discredit and disrespect the two most important things that make-up schools: Kids and teachers.


I have spent the majority of my life in schools. And for all their faults, I still think they are amazing places. I still remember the rainy day afternoons in Mozambique waiting for the rain to stop so we could carry on because the floor had flooded for lack of windows. The fact that kids didn’t have shoes or books or pencils didn’t bother us none. The fact that I barely knew what I was doing didn’t seem to matter either. We were looking at the lyrics of Africa Unite by Bob Marley as a way to learn English. We laughed and smiled and built something unnameable. It was fueled by wonder and love.


All you need to run a school are kids and teachers who love kids and want to create awe-inspiring experiences for everyone on campus.


Tonight I was at Sound Asylum which is or annual MS rock show run by the music department ( Lee, Lindsey and Evind) in a constant state of goose-pimpled skin. I watched two hours of talented kids be rock stars. The team created an opportunity for these kids to stand on stage behind the lights and the smoke and in front of their peers and live out a dream. This is what a school is all about. Everything else is administration and bureaucracy.


It is not fair to kids if their teachers are constantly focused on looking at the problems of their school. We owe them more. Take a look at your school and ask yourself how you can create opportunities born from your love and passion- opportunities for your students to be inspired. If your curriculum has you down, or if you are buried under mandates of which you have no control, find other ways to build a culture of wonder in your school. A poetry reading, a basket ball league, a hands on science club, a coding team, a rock show, a magazine launch, a place to knit, plant a garden.


We don’t always need to focus on how to re-build our schools. Let’s change the conversations and focus on the fact that schools are by default great places because they are filled with kids. Everything else must grow from that understanding.

The Tricky Part

The tricky part about writing everyday, is that on the days where you do a lot, the ones that are chalk full of activities and blazing thoughts, you are the most exhausted and not really in a mood to tackle your thoughts and pin them to the page.


Take today for example- I had two classes of read-alouds that went pretty well, and between my three classes I must have conferenced with at least fifteen kids. Lunch time was a high pressure Daraja meeting hell-bent on being productive. All fourteen members showed up, on time, and were busy at work. This is no small feat.


My afternoon included a forty-five minute chat with an independent leadership consultant we work with at school. She is meant to play the role of critical-friend for the admin and mid-level leaders at school. She gave me some good advice and things to think about as I transition into the head of grade role. I am equal parts excited and terrified.


Then Daraja was asked to help run a wine and cheese night for grade eight parents. After some initial miscommunication, the team pulled together and it was a success. The three student volunteers were simply spectacular. I am so happy that after four years of work, our GC is sustainable and effective enough where I can ask for volunteers for two events in one week, and not only do they volunteer their free time at night, but they do it with grace and enthusiasm. Tomorrow night another set of volunteers will help launch our Lit Mag at a launch party the students have planned.


There is a lot to say about the leadership conversation and the beauty of student centered learning, but on a night like this- after I inhaled a vegan pizza from Alt and an entire box of Pizza cinnamon Dough-balls, finding the energy to clearly articulate any of it, feels difficult to muster.


There many thoughts hatched today, many things learned, a few moments of awe and the overcoming of panic, keeping it cool, there was complaining and negotiating, waiting and doing. And now the only thing left to do is sleeping.

Don't Panic

Woke up this morning to the sound of a howling cat. Or was it screeching. Whatever the classification of noise, it was clear that she was pissed. Or was she concerned. Whatever the classification of her mood, one thing was clear when we sprung out of bed was that the alarm had not been heard and we had overslept. By nearly an hour.


Don’t panic. Don’t panic we mumbled to each other as we got out of bed groggily, but with purpose. Kaia was on her own and I got Skye showered while Mairin made lunches and then Kaia and I made some quick breakfast toast to be eaten in the car and we were off and made it to school in time for everyone.
It was the perfect start to what I imagine to be a crazy week.


I am somehow involved with three evening events this week:


Wednesday watching and speaking on a panel for Udi's screening of Conspiracy. (Another shameless plug, please come watch and eat and talk about what cutting down on meat consumption can do for our planet.)


Thursday I volunteered a few Daraja GC members to speak at a parents Wine and Cheese event, so I have to show up and make sure it runs smoothly.


Friday, is the launch party of our Lit Magazine- Off Tangent. We have organized, or I should say are organizing some readings, food, music, and a social for our writers and their other book nerd friends.


Needless to say all of these events include emails, planning and organization skills I am not an expert in. I can already hear the howling cat on any one of those events. But we will cross our fingers, work together and hope for the best.


Being back in the mix after missing three days of school last week did not make today easy. Still trying to figure out what was taught with the sub and what needs to be taught next was a challenging task, but I think we sorted it out.


We are currently working on a non-fiction unit, where our grade eights are reading book length, narrative non-fiction texts which include Columbine, No Logo, Omnivore’s Dilemma and Quiet. I was a bit worried that these text might be too hard, and I am sure to some extent they are, but today as we shared some ideas about what claims these writers might be making, most of the grade 8’s were able to nail it. These kids are extraordinary.

…

I ran today. I hadn’t run since March 28th. It was not an easy run. It was not long or fun or enjoyable in any way, but I ran today and it feels good to be back on the horse. I also wrote tonight. Back to the novel. I hadn’t written in weeks. It was not an easy session, but I wrote about a thousand words and I am back in it, which is all that matters.


These goals, these routines need continuity to be effective. Any extended break or absence can cause major damage to the habit. So even with this crazy week, I know I need to get back on track with a run and writing session on Wednesday.

…

Took a taxi home today with just Kaia and me. I told her I needed to talk to her, so if could she please put down her book for a few minutes. This is what I said:


“I was at this conference last week and we were talking about happy kids and students and how as teachers we can support our students to be relaxed and well-supported and happy. And as I was thinking about all the things I do for my student, I got to thinking about how we as parents talk to you and support you and what messages you might be getting from us. And you know what I realised? That I get so frustrated with parents when they put pressure on their kids or get angry or yell or over parent, but then I realised that maybe sometimes we might be doing that to you.


Sometimes when we are over-eager and parenting you too much, we might sound angry or yelling or demanding or never satisfied. Do your homework! Practice your guitar. Mind your manners. Clean your room. Be nice to your sister. Don’t talk back so often and so on and so on.


You might get the impression that we are always disappointment or not very happy….so…..I just wanted to take a break and a time out and let you know how much we love you. And how much everything we do is designed to help you become the best person you can be. We know you are working hard and what you are doing is amazing. We could not be more proud. I also need you to know how much we love you and everything we do is born from that love.”


She was awkwardly smiling at this point and looked happy but uncomfortable with the praise. It made me realise just how important it is to remind our kids how much we love them and that parenting is not always a clear representation of that love.


“Anyway, sometimes when we are in the heat of the week and things have to get done and we seem angry and cranky, it’s important that we stop and remind ourselves that we are here to learn and have fun and do our best. Nothing else matters. So as long as you are having fun and doing your best, we are proud of you and we love you. Okay?”


Okay she said smiling.


“Can I have a big kiss and a hug?”


We hugged and she went back to reading Harry Potter the seventh book and I fell asleep until we got home.

All The Firsts And Lasts Of Our Lives

It was a bit past noon, and we were just getting the water boiling for the pasta in our cooking class. I had my phone out because I had just taken a photo, when I noticed a direct message on Facebook from an old friend who I haven’t spoken to in years. I was not used to hearing from this person and was intrigued, so I quickly read the message. It was in regards to a post I had shared a few days ago about a kid in my class and the message said:

Jabiz, I would delete this post. A child in your classroom has a right to privacy. This post has gone over the line. XXXXX did something similar a few weeks ago about a conversation overheard at our condo from a colleague's daughter. Same thing. Kids have a right not to have their life shared by others on Facebook.

Kids have a right not to have their life shared by others on Facebook.


I played the line over and over in my head as we continued with our class. At first I was a bit taken aback and perhaps slightly defensive, in the way we can become when someone challenges our behaviour, but as I stewed on it for most of the day, I realised that I have a lot to think about when it comes to Privacy and the choices I am making in regards to my own children and the students I teach. Perhaps he was right. Did I have the right to post things about the people in my life without their permission? Is it possible to tell our own stories without sharing the stories of the people we love- the people who’s stories are so intricately woven into our own?


When I got home, I knew the post he mentioned felt weird. The details felt overexposing, and I knew I had to make some changes. I went in and edited out the details that could narrow it down to a specific kid, but I left the rest of the story intact- for now.


In case you haven’t noticed, I am a compulsive over-sharer- stories, photos, thoughts, tweets, videos, successes, failures, anxieties and more. At the dawn of the Internet, for better or worse, I decided to live my life openly online. Also for better or for worse, I have dragged my family along for the ride. Both my kids have thousands of photos online, starting from their ultra-sound photo to the latest ones documenting our every move. I am not sure why I feel the need to document our lives so carefully, but I do.


At first, like most people, it was to share our excitement of parenthood with family and friends overseas. It was so easy and exciting to have grandparents and friends watch our kids grow up. But a few years in, as I began to blog and share my ideas, thoughts and feelings about so many other things my (over)sharing became a way to validate my experiences and give them shape in my own corner of the internet.


I find comfort in the fact that I have hundreds of thousands of words, photos and videos scattered on the Internet. I am not scared that they are permanent traces back to me, because I know nothing is permanent, also because these are all choices I have made about my own life. My story. I have tried to create the truest version of myself for the Internet.


What my old friend reminded me of today, was that perhaps it is unfair to tell other peoples’ stories without their consent or even knowledge. Wikipedia says:


Privacy is the ability of an individual or group to seclude themselves, or information about themselves, and thereby express themselves selectively.


I get it. I really do. But if I were to only be able to share my story selectively, without the connection I have with so many people in my life, what kind of story would that be? It would be inauthentic and boring. We do not exist in vacuums of seclusion. My story does not exist without pieces of your story. I share what I love and I love my kids, my students, my peers, my friends and even strangers online. As our web of ideas and expression becomes more and more complex, it feels that the very nature of privacy comes into question.


Oh, oh….getting into the area of The Circle.


I don’t have too many answers in this post. I am just ting to figure this stuff out. Perhaps I have made some selfish decisions in my attempt to live transparently online. Perhaps, I have dragged those around me unwillingly or unknowingly into this open vulnerable world.


I do know that my friend was right and the post I wrote a few days ago felt uncomfortably translucent. I also know that from now on when I talk about the students I teach, I should be a bit more general and way less judgmental. I do not think I could not talk about them. They are a huge part of my life, but I need to be more aware of how they are represented by what I share about them. The part that has me thinking is that even though I never mention names or specific details, just the fact that I am sharing their stories could be perceived as an encroachment of their privacy.


If I were not allowed to write about and share stories about my students or my own kids, what the hell would I write about? They make up the majority of my life. The amount of energy I spend on them is exponential to the amount of energy I spend on myself. Without my kids and my students the majority of my mental energy is spent on angst, ennui and a dash of rage.


What do you all think? Curious what other educators think about this: Tim, Paula, Keri-Lee, Dave, Jeffrey, Tosca, Kim, Adrienne, Stuart and many more of you. Feel free to jump in. Push back, share your thoughts on privacy, sharing too much about other people, your kids etc…what are your policies?


I am hoping to sit down with Kaia over the break and show her the extent of her online life, and ask if I can record an interview. I am very curious what she has to say.


In the meantime, I will most likely continue on with business-as-usual, as it is the only way I know. But I do feel a bit shaken and awakened, so I will try and temper my thoughts. I will try and focus more on myself a bit and let the other stories orbit like satellites, only sending transmission to the first person tale I might need to focus on


…


Oh….Skyelar lost her first tooth tonight and she was so excited she could barely sleep. See how can I not share that? I guess I see all these words as a sort of time capsules into eternity. If things are as permanent as people say, isn’t my online footprint a shot at immortality? Someday years affect I have gone, my kids and their kids can read the words, watch the videos and try to piece together the life of crazy grandpa Raisdana. They can look back on their own lives like a cyper-timemachine and recount the holidays and all the firsts and lasts of our lives.


I have a few crumpled journals from my dad and a box of photos from my childhood which I cherish. Am I not creating a vast photo album and book about this one life I have as a gift for my kids? I am not trying to rob them of their privacy. I want to showcase their immeasurable influence on my life. With every photo or blog post or tweet, I am writing another chapter of our lives. Will they really be embarrassed by this in the future? Are they really being endangered by this exposure? In a world of pixelated noise, I am just scribbling my love songs on the millions of tiny threads in our tiny corner of the web.


I love life and I love sharing what I love. To me sharing the joy and anger and pain and beauty of life is the heart of happiness and the spreading of joy. I see little different between the sharing of life and the living of it.

Feeling of Awe

I recently started following Scott Kelly on Twitter- @StationCDRKelly He is an astronaut living and working on the space station. I say space station as if I know anything about it, and as if there is only one station. There is only one right? Do we have more than one space station?

I did some quick research, yes- it seems that there is only one space station which is actually called The International Space Station or ISS. Which is confusing with ISIS right? Can you imagine those guys up in space? I think that might cool their jets a bit. Get them up in space for a year and let them re-evaluate their relationship to god and all that, but that is a different story.

I was talking about Scott Kelly. Anyway, this dude has been up in space since last March and is scheduled to stay for a year. He frequently tweets photos of earth from space, and they are stunning.

He got me thinking about what a trip it must be for him. I can barely imagine the daily revelations and the deeper understanding he must have of our planet seeing it whole and living and breathing in the vastness of the space that surrounds it.

Is it even possible for us to grasp that feeling of awe while we are living on it? I joked earlier about literally sending ISIS up there, but seriously I think it is important for us to look at all the issues we face as a species on our very precarious and precious planet, both in the micro and macro sense. We can do this if we mentally send ourselves to space once in a while.

Because when I see his photos of the Italian peninsula at night, shrouded in a cloud formation that covers nearly the entire country, and I think that those weather patterns are  part of one giant global system, it makes me put into perceptive the work that we do and the thoughts that we think and the dreams that we dream. It forces me to realise the true insignificance of my being, but at the same time I am forced to contemplate how our collective consumption is damaging such a beautiful and finite planet. In short, it makes me think.

If you are on Twitter check him out. His photos and messages about space are a nice way to pullout super macro and put your day into perspective.

…

Today after lunch & before class, a few 7th grade kids trickled in early. I was on the couch playing guitar and as came in; we all started to chat while I strummed a few chords. They were so calm and approachable. We joked about a mock wedding they were planning between the two of them. A bit later,  another boy came in and started to juggle. We watched him and chatted and played guitar. Then I got up to juggle. I made a few jokes. They laughed.

I don’t ever remember moments like this in school. Ever. Afterwards, we all composed ourselves sat down on the carpet and began to learn about the Art of Argument Writing. They were into it and ready to go. All it took was a few minutes of being a human being around them. The vibe was great and the energy flowing. I love what I do.

…

For those of you who have known me for a while, you know that I will ignore something for a long time, pretend like I don’t care about it, then after I try it, I become super obsessed and treat people like idiots because they are not super excited about it too.

Spotify and streaming music has changed my musical life. OMG. Finally. What was I thinking?

This week I discovered the Monday Mix. A playlist of songs based on my listening habits. It is familiar and new. Eclectic and popular. It spans forty years and it is awesome. I discovered a few new bands and was reminded of a few songs that I loved long ago. I also heard the original Jackson Brown version of one of my favourite songs- These Days.

I am now listening to music at breakfast, in the shower, on the way to school, and most nights while I work. It is fantastic.

However, everyone told me how social Spotify is, but I am not really interacting with anyone. I have sent a few people messages or songs and links to playlist, but it feels a bit dead.  If you are on Spotify, come find me and let’s play. I am loving it.

…

Lessons Learned:

• Our planet is huge and tiny at the same time. Take a moment to contemplate it every once in a while. 
• Kids need you to be yourself around them and make jokes for them to trust you. That’s when they learn best. 
• Don’t wait too long to try things that people you trust tell you are good. 

1. What trips you out about nature, the planet and space? 
2. Describe a memorable simple moment you have spent with students. 
3. What’s a popular thing you waited too long to explore? 
4. Is there something else I am missing out on, that I will be obsessed with, once I try it? 

A Bit Dry

I had a lot to say this morning, but now I feel a bit dry.

I watched my grade eights play in the playground this morning as the sun was rising. They laughed and giggled and breathed easy for the first time in weeks.

Back in class, they explored the themes in The Outsiders, The Giver, Night and they began to question why Alexander  Supertramp would ever give up so much comfort for some much wilderness.

The advanced one knew so much, how could I help her? We talked about her reading Little Bee, Sixty Lights, Speak and Half Yellow Sun. She mentioned her exploration of gender and race and colonialism; I bought up the patriarchy and her role in our Daraja GC.

I said it seemed that she was very attuned to noticed how characters and people, young women in particular, truly become themselves in a male dominated world. She nodded knowingly.

“Can you write about that for a while?” I asked?

She nodded.

“Think of what you have learned about European colonialism in Africa from the books you have read and what you know about the British in India and all you know about what it means to be a young women in 2016 and write me something that explains what you think about all that. You are a very analytical and logic person.  Forget all that. Find your voice and anger. Let’s see what that sounds like.

I haven’t read what she wrote yet. I'll keep you posted.

There was so much I wanted to tell her. I saw her future in that brief moment. I saw her in college dorm rooms, lectures, spoken word sessions. She will learn so much more. I can only see her at the threshold of childhood, so filled with promise. I wanted to let her know that her ideas would carry her to unknown territories.

…

After school, I rehearsed for my performance in front of students next week. I strummed a song and sang. My knees were shaking as I tried  to lose myself and not focus too much on getting it right, but actually letting the song fill the room.
…

Tonight needed a drink and some friends. I found them on Bedok Reservoir. We threw the Frisbee. We shot the shit. We laughed. I washed the week away, and now I am squeezing these words out of the void. Drip by drop.

Another Friday night, Another week. Another year…sleeping  into infinity.

Lessons Learned:

• Some students will blow your mind be ready to lead them further. 
• No matter how much you play, you will always be nervous. 

1. 
   
2. Tell us about someone who blew your mind this week. 
3. What did you do this Friday night? 

This Kind Of Attention

“How odd I can have all this inside me and to you it’s just words.”
― David Foster Wallace, The Pale King


I always feel inspired and good about the world after I see students kick ass at what they love. I’m a big fan of supporting, not only the students I teach, but also the ones I have taught in the past, when they share their art, music and acting in plays. I should be better about watching them in sports too, but that is another post.

This post is about the feeling of watching kids I’ve spent time with shine in a beautiful performance.

I just got back from the grade nine and ten rendition of Cyrano De Bergerac, and as per usual hats off to Bronwyn​ for another innovative and powerful production. She has a knack for taking theatre seriously and pulling the best out of each actor.

It left me thinking about how important it is to remind ourselves that, as teachers, we see kids at a certain stage of their growth, but those short one or two years we spend with them is just a window into their maturation. They keep growing after they leave us. I loved seeing kids I taught in grade eight grow into such sophisticated and talented people.

Teaching can’t be about the short term. We are working on a much larger scale. We are shaping human beings.

Hopefully the time we spend with kids has a lasting effect beyond the skills they might or might not learn. And if the friendships I have with former students here on Facebook is any indication, it is clear that even one year of English can have lasting effects on people.

Anyway, kids want to know that you are there for them and that you really care. And here is the secret: you have to actually care. You can’t bullshit this kind of attention.

After every performance, I use the names from the program to email every member of the cast that I have taught:

Hello Cast, 

Just a quick note to let you know how amazing you were tonight. I was in awe, not only of your performance, but the dedication, passion and commitment you have clearly shown for this show. 

It's so nice to see you grow up into such talented actors. We miss you in the middle school, but clearly you have matured and are becoming the people you are meant to be. 

I feel proud and privileged to have worked with you in some capacity during your time as a middle schooler.

Can't wait to see what you do next. 

…

That moment when there is a glitch in your tech and the app won’t work and it freezes and even crashes your phone, but you try it five more times, thinking, “This time it has to work.” But it doesn’t and so you give up and feel shitty and then you try one more time. Still nothing. You feel worse than before and the app still doesn’t work, but for some reason the next day it works fine.

…

Right before
I think, “This is the last thing in the world I want to do right now.”
In the beginning it feels better. Feels okay.
Fifteen minutes in, it feels terrible and I just want it to stop.

I persist
yelling at myself in my head.
I heap on the abuse.

I ignore that voice and focus on my breath and the low hanging dense clouds, the ships off the coast and the small child learning balance on his scooter.

I lose myself in thoughts of chapters and failures and half attempts and near misses, on the value of goals and data

A few more steps,
a few more minutes.
Just don’t stop yet.

Afterwards, hot, sweaty, tired,
I feel grateful.

…

Lessons Learned:

• Kids are awesome. When they are awesome, it’s important that you’re there to see it and when you do, it’s important you tell them. 
• There are glitchy gremlins in your tech and they need to find their way out. 
• Running will always suck before and during, but pays off in the after. 

1. How do you support the people you love? 
2. What drive you crazy about technology? 
3. What do you hate doing, but enjoy when it’s done? 

Self Is A State Of Flux

One of my favorite things to do is to drive around in the car, by myself, blasting music. This has been a love of mine since the first time I took my old 1972 VW Bug out for a spin on my sixteenth birthday. I love music infused cruising even if it is just to pick up a few burgers for dinner or running quick mundane errands.

I like to imagine that I'm the lead singer of whatever band I am listening to, and I am on stage performing the song currently playing to a massive crowd. I secretly wish that I had a massive speaker on the roof so I could broadcast my amazing musical taste for all my fellow drives.

Sometimes our mediocre stereo speakers thump painfully as the bass pushes its limits. I air guitar on the steering wheel and air drum on my lap. At any given time, a stranger may look over and see me in full scream or banging my head. I’m not much of a dancer, but on rare occasion, usually when Childish Gambino is the song du jour, I can be seen shaking my shoulders and waving my arms in a way that might be construed as dancing.

...

I read a lot. Books, although not many in the last few weeks, but I read a lot. Tweets, Facebook updates, articles, news, song lyrics, student work and menus. I read on pages, websites, and flimsy scraps of paper. I read on the toilet, in the car and in my bed. On the couch, the beach, by the pool, and standing in line. I read walking around and standing still. I read for fun, for work and to alleviate boredom. I read to learn and I read to teach. I read as an excuse. I read to procrastinate and to do work. I read paintings, photographs and films and street ads and signs. I read faces, moods and body language. I read to myself, my students and my kids. I read poems, stories and play scripts. I read reviews and Op Ed pieces. I read ignorant comments and hyperlinks. I read for inspiration, frustration and motivation. I read when I’m happy and when I’m sad. I read what I write and then read it again, missing the typos and the grammatical gaffs. I read cartons and recipes and warning signs and fortune cookies. I read subtitles and rolling credits. I read instructions and many many other things.

...

I let the ants out tonight because no sentient being should ever be imprisoned in any kind of cage for any reason.

...

“We’re doing it. We’re doing it everyone! We’re creating a beautiful piece of art” I shouted to no one in particular during our Lit Mag activity as I looked around and saw twenty middle school kids invested in the creation of this thing for no other reason than that they love words, and they want this magazine to exist. It was a beautiful thing.

Never underestimate the intrinsically motivated student, unconcerned with school or learning, but inspired by the passion of creation.

...

I needed a new face today and captured it in a sun soaked alley. A new iteration of this tired old self. Absorbed ego pushing out from the inside for something resembling authenticity. Not quite right again. How can we be ourselves when each second our cells are busy dying and being reborn?

It feels like the thoughts trapped in these words are closer to my real self than the blood and guts and hair and skin. No amount of selfies or avatars seems to get close to a clearly articulated self. Have you seen me lately?

Lesson Learned:

• Cars + Loud Music= Joy
• Reading is good for the soul. 
• Give students a chance to create things they love. 
• Self is a state of flux. 

1. What weird things do you do in your car?
2. Write an I Read poem. 
3. What captures the real you best? 

Master Of His Own Destiny

Woke up this morning, first thing, to a comment from a cousin of a Facebook friend that made me reconsider my open public Facebook policy, in it’s sheer ignorance and biased view. It was so fundamentally false- the argument was so misguided, illogical, and simplistic that my first reaction was to ignore it and chalk it up to bi-partisan mudslinging.

The ideas of a stranger had somehow leaked into my feed, but that didn’t mean I had to engage. It was 5:50 in the morning, why did I need to explain to a stranger that Donald Trump’s ad about banning Muslims from the USA  was not okay, especially when he was saying things like, “And there is a law on the books that states that anyone that is a member of any organization that is contrary to the beliefs of the USA - freedom - can be banned from entering this country.”

But then I thought about it all morning. I didn’t want to be thinking about retorts and rebuttals, but my brain had caught fire and I couldn’t seem to find a way to put it out.

Because if I had a student who thought so simplistically, a student who argued so illogically, a student who felt so callously, a student who lived with such little understanding of the world and such lack of empathy, I would do everything I could to teach that student. For better to for worse this is the curse of the educator, we want to teach everyone we come across- even the random cousin of a Facebook friend we will never meet.

Our first reaction might be to label people who disagree with us as right-wing fanatics, or ignorant (fill in the blank), but if we get into the habit of doing that, then how are we different from the people who see liberals as some false stereo-type. At the end of the day we need to see people, who’s views are different to our way of thinking, as people who we need to engage with.

Anyway, as I was thinking all these thoughts my friend Bryan​ came in and saved the day, with one of the best rebuttals I have read in a while. It was clear, coherent, logical and dead-on. So I was saved from having to do my civic duty, which made me think how important it is that we work together to help educate the internet. No small feat, I know. But everytime someone spouts inaccurate information it is our collective civil duty to say something.

...

In school this happened during break before class. Two students came running into the classroom with their copies of Into The Wild and the following conversation took place:

“But why would he change his name?”
“Because that part of his life was dying?”
“But what does changing your name do?”
“His name symbolized everything he hated about the overly commercialized life he was forced to live by his parents and society. He needed to break free from that, so he needed a new name. See look it says it here on this page (pulls out book) ““no longer would he answer to Chris McCandless; he was now Alexander Supertramp, master of his own destiny” (He then waved the book around and sang, Master of his own Destiny a few times)
“Yeah, I get it. That must also be why he turned down the gift of the car from his parents. He didn't want what they were offering. He needed something else.”

...

Time hop reminded me that I began my experiment being vegan three years ago today. I feel pretty good. I love the line that Brighde​ once told me, “I am vegan 100% of the time, but I am successful 90% of the times."

Yes I cheat occasionally with the weirdest things- Krispie Kreme donuts and muffins at Starbucks, but for the most part I have been pretty good. The very thought of eggs, cheese or milk, makes me sick. Those damn baked goods, still haunt me.

...

I watched Obama’s speech on guns and cried at the end. I respect him more and more. He’s just a cool dude trying his damn best.

Sometimes I feel guilty for being too tired to properly spend time with my kids during the week. Are we just wasting their childhood and setting them up for the rat race?

There is a new salad bar at school that I am excited about trying tomorrow.

I have a girl in my class who is going through a hard time with a parent’s divorce and I complimented her on her writing today and she was so grateful that she was beaming. It made me very happy to be able to make her happy so easily.

...

Lessons Learned:

• Politics are messy and engaging with people is tough but necessary. 
• Kids get excited if you are excited. 
• Compliments are so easy to give and do so much good. I should give them more often to everyone in my life. 

...

1. What’s a political argument you rarely back away from? 
2. Describe an exchange you witness that made you happy. 
3. Tell us about a compliment that you gave that made someone’s day or one that you received.