When It's NOT "Just Jealousy"

News Flash: Not all teenagers love and adore each other. (They're just like younger kids and adults that way.) When one teen hates another, there seem to be two routes. The hater makes no secret of their hate, broadcasting it to the world, or they act extra-super-sweet-and-nicey-nice around their hate-ee.

The second is just about as obvious as the first.

Then there's the response from the hate-ee's friends once the hater moves on, particularly when we're talking about girls:

"Forget it, she's just jealous."

It's true at least some of the time, I'm sure. Envy gets ugly easily enough. But it's become a sort of default response to being hated, or even just disliked. "It's not my problem—they're just jealous."

What if they're not? What if someone's beef with me has nothing to do with my possessions, my status, my accomplishments? What if it has everything to do with how I'm conducting myself? I see kids who really don't like other kids, and have really good reasons for it. Boys who disrespect girls, students who disrespect teachers, kids who try to cheat or cause trouble. And I've seen those kids brush it off with the "jealousy" excuse. Pointing fingers at the hater distracts me from what I need to see—my own face in the mirror, my own actions and character.

That doesn't mean we need to beat ourselves up every time someone has a problem with us. But taking it as a prompt for some quick self-reflection couldn't hurt.

This is part of why I don't feel inclined to celebrate my successes in a sense of "Ha! Take that, haters!" If there are haters out there, I'm not always sure of the reason behind their hate. My success stands on its own. Separately, I'll celebrate when I manage to knock down any of my own tendencies toward bad conduct ...

... leaving the haters to worry about their own selves.

Recover and Recharge

The weekend always strikes me as a time of recovery. This may be reflective of my day job, but this week there seems to be a lot to recover from.

Valentine's Day being yesterday means today my students will be crashing from their sugar high, and I'll still be finding candy wrappers in the strangest nooks and crannies of my classroom.

Yesterday was also our inaugural PAPfest. We're recovering from running it. Some of our participants are recovering from the excitement. Others are recovering from the disappointment. (For the latter, be sure to check my post from Wednesday if you haven't already.)

Today is mid-term, so I have a ton of grading to do. I don't get to recover from that until it's done. My back hurts just thinking about it. (I'm more likely to actually get grading done at school than at home, but if at school, it means being hunched over a desk while doing it. Definite dilemma there.)

One the plus side, it's a three-day weekend. On the minus side, parent-teacher conference is coming up on Thursday. I actually like the chatting-with-the-parents part. The be-at-school-until-8pm part isn't my favorite.

So the plan for the weekend is to do more than recover. It's to recharge. And I think I'll best accomplish that by engaging the writer-side a little more. Do a little reading for once. Do some work on either a revision or a rewrite of one project or another. Things that are a little less frustrating than grading quizzes where some kids did great, and others ... still didn't.

If you're looking for something happy to get your recovery going this weekend, keep an eye on Young Adult Books Central today. They'll be revealing the cover for Mindy McGinnis's debut Not a Drop to Drink, which is less than seven months away from publication.

And that right there makes up for the empty cotton candy bag shoved between books on my shelf.

Being Liked is Nice, But Not at Another's Expense

When it comes to teaching, I know I have things to work on, but I also do some things pretty well. A lot of kids like my class and like me as a teacher.

That feels nice. It's helpful, too, when a kid who doesn't normally like math likes you as a teacher. They try a little harder, which often leads to doing a little better. I've even had a kid or two come away with a totally different opinion of math as a subject.

Like I said, it feels nice.

You know what doesn't feel nice, though? Students convincing counselors to let them transfer into my class mid-year because they think I'm somehow better than the other teacher who teaches the course.

Flattering, but ... wait a minute.

The two of us prep together and teach from exactly the same materials. We have essentially the same training. We see eye-to-eye on most mathematical topics and how to approach them. Sure, our personalities are a little different. But here's what it really comes down to.

I don't have a reputation yet.

The other teacher falls into the tough-but-fair category. That's a good thing, but kids who don't like the "tough" part spread the word that she's "mean." (Oh, please.)

Letting kids bail from one teacher to the other just because they feel like it isn't fair to her—it undermines her. She's been teaching for years and teaching well, and she deserves more credit than these kids are giving her.

It's also not fair to me. It puts me in a position I don't want to be in, playing me against my colleague. That sucks. On a more practical note, I don't like it because it means my classes keep getting bigger. They're all between 36 and 39 students now.

(My colleague could see it as great for her, because her classes are smaller, but she doesn't. She'd rather we each have a fair, even class load.)

And you know what? Kids (and people in general, I'm sure) do this all the time. Playing favorites. Choosing sides. Trying to get everyone else to like/not like the same people they do. Often without much—if any—solid basis for that opinion.

I don't like it.

Not sure what I can do about it.

Experience vs. Expertise

There are a couple of things I could say I'm an expert in. Math and deaf education, for instance. I have the degrees and the training, plus actual years in the classroom. (Not that I can't still improve, of course.)

Then there are areas I have experience in. Some coincide with my expertise (such as those years of experience in the classroom), while others are just experience, making me far from an expert. I'd put writing and the publishing industry in this latter category, though I think it's transitioning to the former.

I have expertise, I have experience, and I also have opinions. On just about anything. Some of those opinions are on subjects I have NO experience in, much less expertise. I try to make it clear that those opinions fit into the "very theoretical" category.

My opinions on writing and publishing are a little less theoretical, because I've actually done some stuff. I've written a few novels. I've queried a lot. I've critiqued a few manuscripts, and I've talked to some agents and editors. But in a business as fickle and subjective and super-in-flux-right-now as publishing, my individual experiences are only worth so much.

Still, people ask for advice. I offer my opinion, and I try to back it up with the reasoning or experience that led to it. They can take it or leave it as they see fit.

That pretty much goes for all the advice and opinions I offer in any area, including education. Yes, I favor certain ways. Yes, I get frustrated when other people seem stuck in what I view as outdated or unsubstantiated opinions. I get even more frustrated when those people don't have the expertise to back up what they're spouting.

I'm pretty sure beating someone over the head with what I think won't do much to change their mind.

So I'll say what I think, especially when asked directly. I'll try to keep my mind open to understanding the reasons behind opposing views. And I'll give experts a fair shot, while considering the source of their credentials.

Six Degrees of Separation from Me, I Guess

I've had a particularly annoying song popping into my head frequently, and by the end of the post, I'm sure you'll have guessed it.

It started a month or two ago. My mom mentioned something about where her mother and grandmother had grown up, and our neighbor down the street remembered that her husband had family connections in the same location. Five minutes of conversation later, we figured out that my mom and this woman's husband are second cousins, making me and the children in that family third cousins.

Oh, and one of those kids is in my math class. He now periodically greets me with, "Hey, Cuz!"

Earlier this week, I went to the mall to pick up a few things. A lady helped me at a particular store, answering questions and pointing out products she thought would fit my needs. During checkout, she signed me up for their frequent shopper rewards program, which involved giving my name, address, and such. She got a look on her face and said, "Did you ... this probably sounds weird, but do you play the cello?"

I looked at her a little harder. "Tonya?"

Turns out we both played cello in the same junior high orchestra as well as the local youth symphony.

Then yesterday, my mother went in for surgery. (She's doing well!) In the ICU afterwards (part of the plan, don't worry!), the nurse and my dad got to small-talking. Dad asked if she's from the area. She said she was born and raised in El Paso, Texas.

That's where my mom grew up.

When my dad mentioned that, the nurse asked for her maiden name. Dad gave it.

"You mean Aunt Nelle and Uncle Ivan??" (My grandparents.)

Turns out this woman is my mom's second cousin (their grandmothers were sisters). My mom even remembers her from way back, I think.

I guess there's really no point in me being surprised at these things anymore.

What's Up With the Name of the Blog?

Admit it—some of you have been wondering about "crossing the helix" for a while.

The name originally goes back to the series of novels I was working on when I started the blog. It ended up being a trilogy—the first three novels I ever wrote. If you read those stories (and a few of you have), the name makes sense.

However, that's not the story I'm debuting with. I have hope that someday I'll get them out there (after some re-tinkering—see Wednesday's post). At this moment, though, it doesn't appear to have much to do with anything.

I've kept the name anyway. Here's why.

For one thing, sentimental value. Those first three novels got me on this road to being an author. I went from "Hey, I wonder if I can write a book" with the first one, to "You know, I think I really have a shot at this" by the last one.

More importantly, I think it can still have some meaning, if very abstractly. It's all about a journey ("crossing").

A helix is generally a spiral, and more specifically a three-dimensional one. Think of the thread of a screw. To travel on such a path, you would typically walk along it like a spiral staircase. You're moving upward, but not in the most direct way. It's a little meandering, but it'll get you there.

And once in a while, you make a leap. You "cross the helix" to a higher point by a shorter route. I made some leaps this year. I signed with an agent. She sold my book.

There's still a lot of "helix" left to travel.

So, for now, the blog name will stay.

A Teen Type Missing in YA Lit (Thank Goodness!)

Young adult novels (contemporary and otherwise) manage to fit a lot of different types of teenagers. Artsy types. Bookish types. Sporty types. Loner types. Popular types. Aggressive types. Passive types. Sometimes characters who are more than one at the same time.

I always appreciate the variety. I like finding novels with characters similar to students who don't seem to be represented so much in pop culture. A particular type stood out to me this week, though, and I realized I don't recall ever reading a character that quite matched up with it.

The whiners.

And please, my fellow YA authors, don't feel any need to change that.

I'm not talking about teens who get whiny now and then. That happens, both in fiction and in life. Part and parcel of being not-quite-kid, not-quite-adult. No, I'm talking about teens who do nothing. But. Complain.

All. Day. Long.

I can barely take it for an hour at a time with those students. If I had to read it in a book, that book would get put down and never picked up again.

And from a math teacher standpoint, let me just say that complaining that it's hard and you don't get it before I've even started explaining anything isn't conducive to learning. It doesn't endear the student to their more open-minded classmates, either.

If you know someone like this in real life, please find a way to rehabilitate them. When you find a successful method for doing so, drop me a line.

I could use the help.

Laser-Guided Ears and Conquering Copiers

When we think of talents, we often think of the obvious. Someone's good at drawing or writing or singing or playing an instrument. The arts come up a lot. Or they're an amazing runner, swimmer, or basketball player. Sports come up a lot, too.

I have some of those. I imagine many of you reading this post do as well. But I have other talents that are much more rarely acknowledged. My secret superpowers.

In my years of working in schools, I've yet to meet a copy-machine paper jam I couldn't unravel. And in a classroom with nearly forty teenagers, I can hear a student use an inappropriate word from twenty feet.

I know, I should get Lynn Phillips to draw me as a superhero, right?

Okay, maybe not so much.

My paper-jam and other tech-related powers mostly come down to an ability to read directions. Or in the case of copy machines, the ability to decipher cryptic diagrams that think they're showing you what to do under the ridiculous assumption you can tell which portion of the machine is represented in the drawing.

I really doubt my hearing is all that good. In fact, given the volume I've been known to set the music in my car to, I'm pretty sure there's at least a little damage in my cochlea. It's just often the kids whose voices carry best (and who have a natural tendency to loudness) who go blurting things they shouldn't.

But the kids sure seem to think it's amazing that I can hear them. And the other teachers definitely don't mind when some of us know what to do with the new machine. So I'll bask in it a little longer.

Do you have any uncelebrated "superpowers"? Go on and brag and a little.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

No, I don't really believe that.

There are times, though—like this week—when it feels like there's some truth to it.

Earlier this week, a woman was shot and killed, allegedly by her adopted teenage son. I knew this woman because she was also the foster mom of a boy I taught for several years, who's now attending college.

I didn't know this woman well. I saw her and her husband and talked to them maybe half a dozen times during the years I taught that boy. They made a strong impression, though. Loving people with some cowboy flavor who opened their home to several boys, such as my student.

They even kept him on until he graduated from high school, by which time he was nineteen years old. I'm pretty sure they didn't have to. But they did.

This woman wasn't perfect, I'm sure. Who is? But I often marveled at my student's character, despite some hard circumstances throughout his life. His work ethic, and his positive outlook. If you looked at his history on paper, you probably wouldn't expect him to be the kind of person he is.

Much of the credit goes to the young man himself, but I think he'd agree his foster parents' influence played a role. And I know he's heartbroken by what happened this week.

Maybe it's true that no good deed goes unpunished. If it is, maybe it doesn't matter.

We'll keep doing them anyway.

Hating on Hate

It's really frustrating to feel like I'm being blasted on one front and trying to keep students from blasting away on the other.

Election season seems to put people in one of two camps—the excited camp, and the "Is it over yet?" camp. (I imagine a lot of people flip-flop between the two.) I definitely fell in the latter this time.

My school is in an area that leans heavily to one side of the political spectrum. Then there's the too-typical teenage response to the "different"—tell them they're wrong or stupid, or just make fun of them. (I went on a bit about that not long ago.)

Some kids were able to reasonably say why they supported one candidate over another. That was always great to see. But others were more, "This one's evil, that one's stupid, you're an idiot for supporting him." So I did the usual putting out of fires, making it clear that people are allowed their opinions, and you don't attack them for it.

At the same time, I found myself feeling (indirectly) attacked, particularly in my online life. Vocally supporting your candidate? That's cool. Describing how you don't agree with the other guy? Also cool.

But throughout and after the election, lines were crossed here and there. Lines between "this is what I believe" and "anyone who believes differently is an idiot and should jump off a cliff." Not usually in so many words (although some came close), but often with a clear undertone.

One statement from the Walls of Facebook, by a so-called "Friend":

"Who would want to make a Mormon the most powerful man in the world?"

Let's imagine we replace the word "Mormon" with one of the following:

Atheist.

Jewish.

Muslim.

Catholic.

Buddhist.

Gay.

Straight.

Vegan.

Should I let my students get away with saying any of those things? Yet when adults are the ones spreading such hate throughout social media, is it any wonder kids don't see a problem with doing the same?

By the end of election night, I felt beaten down, torn up, and truly sad. Not because of who won or who lost, but because of the hate I felt ... even from some (not all) of those who were spouting "Let's all work together (by being more like me)" hours later.

I know these attitudes aren't true of all, or even most, on either side. But there are enough of them to really get me down sometimes.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to think of new ways to convince a certain fifteen-year-old that calling girls sluts is never, ever okay.

I Need a New Category for Myself

I'm not particularly girly. While I wear makeup and the occasional skirt and high heels, I've never had a manicure. I don't get excited over things like shopping sprees and spa getaways. I'm not crafty, and I don't knit. If people are coming over (I can't say I'm having a party, because I can't think of the last time that happened), the last thing that occurs to me is decorating or making a cute centerpiece.

But I'm not a tomboy, either. I played soccer when I was a kid, and I don't mind watching football games with my mom now and then. Like I said, though, skirts and heels and makeup aren't foreign to me. I never had that comfortable buddy-buddy relationship with guys that goes along with the tomboy stereotype.

Yes, I just answered my own question. These ideas of "girly" and "tomboy" that I'm working off of are stereotypes. That doesn't change the fact that I see/meet people who seem to fit in with one or the other, and I don't quite identify.

What do I identify with? Seems to depend on what group I'm with at the time.

When I'm hanging out with authors, I often feel like the math-geek. At least, that's the role I seem to play. And that definitely plays into my author side, with the whole science fiction angle and everything.

When I'm with other math teachers, I feel like the weirdo who actually knows how to spell and talk about things like "tightening prose" and whatnot. (Doesn't mean there aren't others who know, too ... but they tend to keep it to themselves.)

Am I normal in this? Is that what we do? Feel like the trait that most defines us is the one least like those around us at that moment?

What does all this rumination imply for the characters I write? Hopefully that even when a character has some traits that fall solidly within a stereotype, they also have other layers adding nuance and complexity.

That's what people are, right? Complicated and hard to categorize.

In other words ... I'm normal and can stop worrying now.

"Teasing Your Friend" Doesn't Make It Funny or Okay

Warning: A rant is about to ensue.

It's nothing new. I imagine people have been tossing "joking" insults at their friends since the dawn of time, and especially boys. You've probably heard the type:

"Joe, you're such a girl." (Having two X chromosomes is an insult?)

"Hey, Larry likes guys." (Besides it being untrue, what's your point?)

"You're so gay, Jeff." ("Gay" as a vague catch-all synonym for stupid, clumsy, goofy, or whatever would actually fit the situation? ... Must not kill the children with my laser-eyes.)

That's when it's tame, and I'll let your imagination fill in when it's not. I'm sure there's some psychological/sociological explanation about male posturing, establishing dominance, or some other testosterone-fuelled phenomenon.

It drives me nuts.

What can I do about it? Probably not much. I try to take the extra moment for a stern "None of that in my classroom," but it's always met by the same thing:

"I'm just playing. Joe and I are buds. He knows I'm kidding."

The kidding aspect of it doesn't make it okay. I try to get that across (and get the class back on track with math, please-oh-please). It's very trying-to-empty-the-ocean-with-an-eyedropper. When I briefly mentioned it on Twitter the other day, I added the hashtag #CallMeSisyphus.

Super frustrating. I'm not stopping anytime soon, though.

Here's one reason why, aside from the fact that such "insults" are offensive, annoying, and unintelligent.

I know a guy, former student, now an adult, who's come out. I imagine him sitting in my classroom years ago. I imagine those stupid comments getting tossed around every single day. Back then, I was a new teacher who barely knew how to keep thirty teenagers from killing each other for forty-five minutes, much less having her ears tuned in to the random banter. So, I really don't know if it's gotten worse, or if I was just too stressed about not knowing what the heck I was doing to notice.

But even assuming such comments weren't lobbed at him directly (best-case scenario), I imagine how hearing it over and over made him feel.

Possibly he would have felt a little like I do when I hear that first type of insult: "You're such a girl," etc. Kind of like I feel when someone tells a guy they throw like a girl, and I want to respond with, "Yeah? Let me show you how to kick like a girl."

The feeling is that even if it's in so-called teasing, it holds an inherent assumption that being female or being gay or whatever is automatically inferior. Not worthy of respect.

Never mind that we're human beings. All of us.

And I know I've said it before, but I don't like this "looking-down" attitude on any front. Not Republicans talking trash about Democrats. Not atheists saying the religiously inclined are idiots.

You don't have to agree with someone to show them respect. And it's really not that hard.

Now, if only I could convince a few fourteen-to-fifteen-year-olds of that.

Any ideas?

Epiphany of the Week: Hot Girls Can Be Smart

Not my epiphany ... that of a 9th grade boy. A very girl-crazy 9th grade boy. ("Aren't they all?" you say. No, not really. Not like this.)

The student in question was in my room, discussing with another student how astounded he was to discover this older girl (cheerleader, no less) is super-smart and able to help him with his math homework. I said (uh, pretty sarcastically), "Incredible, isn't it? A hot girl and she's smart?"

He could've really dug himself into a hole then, but he managed a save. "I know! But then I thought about it, and there's [names several girls in his grade who fit in the cute-and-popular category and have high academic achievement]."

It struck me that teens can be a little one-dimensional in their thinking, but they can also add dimensions to their view pretty easily when they let themselves.

It parallels the experience I often have when students find out I write fiction. "But you teach math!" Like they're these mutually exclusive things. Like I have to fit neatly into a stereotype.

Then there was the time a student reported that one of the English teachers had said English is harder to teach than math. (I hope she was joking around. I wasn't there, so I don't know.) I teased back that he should tell her we can switch places for a day and we'll see what happens, because I know a thing or two about English.

Really, though ... why must we try to fit people into these boxes? The analytical side of me can see the appeal of simple categorization. It keeps things organized. Much easier to split things into hot blondes (in the blonde-joke sense) and ugly nerds, math people and English people, jocks and band-geeks.

Real people tend to have overlap somewhere, though. More often than not, a lot of overlaps. That's trickier to wrangle with, but makes life a lot more interesting.

On a quick writing note ... I'm always glad to see characters that reflect the kind of multifaceted-ness I see in real-life teens. Sometimes, though, I find that one or more of those blended aspects lacks authenticity. The cute, popular girl who reports she loves math/science and is good at it ... but doesn't show any of the thinking processes that go with skills in those areas. Not that she can't still make stupid decisions—all humans do sometimes. But saying she's "that kind of smart" isn't the same as behaving like a person who really is, with all the complexity that includes.

I guess that makes another case for "Show, Don't Tell."

The Transition from Cooties to Couples

Yes, I'm back with more observations from Project People-Watch: Junior High Edition.

For the last several years, I've been at a school where I've mainly been working with the older high school kids—anywhere from 16 to 21 years old. Even when I had 8th and 9th graders, it was such a tiny school that the dynamics weren't always what most teenagers would consider typical.

Now I'm back in a large public school. I have one 8th grade class (smaller, honors) and five 9th grade classes (large, full spectrum from overachievers to strugglers to I-don't-cares). Those 9th graders are top of the heap at this school, but would have been among the youngest I taught previously, so it's an interesting perspective.

The most interesting thing, regardless of class, is to watch what various students (and groups of students) do during a stretch of free time at the end of class.

The 8th grade class has The Great Wall of Gender Divide running down the middle of it. They chose their own seats, and it's girls on the right, boys on the left. During free time, the girls will talk—about play practice, homework and events in other classes, whatever. The boys will play cards.

One exception is a girl and boy who sit next to each other on the divide. The girl will alternate chatting and joking around with him, and chatting with the other girls. Don't know the history there, but the pair seem like they've been friends for a long time.

The only further mingling is a type I saw just this week after they all finished their tests. Several girls asked if they could draw on the whiteboard. (Last day before break—why not?) One of the girls favors the in-state rival over the more local college team. The boys take exception to that. So when she drew her team's logo on the board, it turned into a bit of a battle.

The rest of the girls continued doodling funny faces and writing names in fancy scripts.

Then there are the 9th grade classes. During free time (or even homework time), there are four major groups, with a few people who float between them.

First there are the girls sticking with girls, much like my 8th grade class. They gravitate to their friends in the class and chat about things from the silly to the serious.

Then there are the boys who stick with boys. Again like my 8th graders, card games are often popular, or some of the puzzles I keep in the classroom. They chat, too ... more likely about sports, video games, and such.

The other two groups are those where girls and guys intermingle, much more commonly than with my 8th graders. My gut tells me there are two distinct groups here, but the difference is hard to describe.

I guess I'd say one group is the Flirts, and the other is the Friends. That's not to say there isn't flirting and crushing going on amongst the Friends, but it's somehow less obvious, not the be-all end-all of their interactions. With the Friends, I see more genuine talking, less posturing.

With the Flirts, one glance tells me this guy is trying to be clever or smooth as a way of showing off, trying to impress the girl. The girl is laughing and acting cute as can be to keep him at it.

At any rate, I don't see anything like the Flirts in my 8th grade class. Aside from the one exceptional pair, I don't see the Friends there, either. Maybe because of its size? Just the dynamics of the people in there? Or the age, and what a difference a year makes?

Some possibilities to keep in mind if I ever write characters quite so young.

Doting on the Doodlers

A while back, I posted a piece of "fan-art" that was included as part of a beta-reader's feedback. More recently, I touted the awesomeness of my former student Lynn, who draws awesome things like Mindy McGinnis's Hatchet Cat.

Today, the two are combined. Lynn read the manuscript for Stitching Snow several months ago and offered this marvelous depiction of the main character, Essie.

That's my girl.

And I continue to be in awe of people who can draw.

Cool vs. Not-Cool—More Relativity

We already know this: What is "cool" varies from person to person. We knew it in school. Some kids thought drugs and partying were cool; some disagreed vehemently. That's more extreme, but there are grayer shades.

Which kids in your class did you think were cool? I'm not talking jocks and cheerleaders vs. geeks and nerds. More like which cheerleader—the queen-bee who seems to have it all under control, the sweet one who seems happy all the time, the hard-working one who's all about perfecting her handsprings? (Were they all the same person in your case?)

Who we individually think is cool is entirely subjective. Collectively, though, there's generally a majority agreeing on one person/thing or another being cool.

When I'm teaching, most of my time is naturally devoted to the whole "teaching" part. Still, there are a few minutes in every class near the end where I fall into people-watching. Some students are obviously the "cool" kids (and there's usually more than one distinct set of them). Some are obviously on the outskirts of Popularity-ville. Many are somewhere in-between.

I should know better, but it still surprises me sometimes to see who some kids are (or aren't) friends with.

The whole thing is such a game. Even as adults, we don't escape it. And yet, as an adult, it twists a little.

Not all my students think I'm cool. Some don't even like me a little bit. But I can guarantee I'm "cooler" and more popular as a teacher than I ever was as a student.

The students who do think I'm cool often strike me as those who wouldn't have noticed me when I was in school.

On the flip-side ... I see those "popular" kids in a way I never could back in those days.

Perspective. Relativity.

We're a bunch of complicated creatures, aren't we?

People-Watching, Junior High Style

This Friday, a few more random observations from the teen-trenches, post-Parent-Teacher-Conference edition.

Sometimes when two teens don't get along, it's mega-obvious. Like, their proximity to each other includes a DEFCON 1 alert. When two such teens are put in the same class, it's my lucky job to keep it from coming to blows. (One such crisis averted yesterday ... I'll save the sigh of relief, though.)

Sometimes when two teens don't get along, you'd never know it to look at them in class. One parent said something about one friend of her child hating another friend in the same class. I never, ever would have guessed, so I guess they're good at faking it. Whatever's behind it all, I appreciate the lack of drama.

Some parents will tear down a good kid. No, the kid isn't perfect, a few things can be improved, but on average, the kind of kid you'd want to have.

Some kids try to tear themselves down, and it's up to the parents (and me) to talk them off the ledge, convince them there's nothing wrong with having an A-minus at midterm.

Popularity is a weird thing. So are cliques. I have a good rapport with a lot of kids who are similar to me at that age (so, the shy/quiet, slightly awkward, not-so-confident geeks). I also have a good rapport with a lot of kids who are at the highest echelon of the social system (this includes some geeks of a different kind). I am much more popular as a teacher than I ever was as a student, which kind of warps my brain.

Some of the most awesome kids are those who cross those social boundaries as though oblivious to their existence.

Most parents are on the teacher's side, because they know the teacher's on the kid's side, whether the kid thinks so or not. (At least, that's how it should be, though of course there are bad teachers out there, just as there are bad parents ... as noted above.)

Most teens know what they should and shouldn't do. They know all the great reasons for such things. That often doesn't stop them from doing what they shouldn't or not doing what they should. And they know that, too. Knowledge may be power, but it's no substitute for willpower and self-control.

One of the saddest things is to realize I have more faith in a student's capability than their own parent.

One of the greatest things is to see the relief in a parent's eyes when they realize I share their belief in a struggling student's potential ...

... and it makes me wonder if they had teachers in the past who wrote that student off.

I hope I never get to that point. Even on the days when the student tries their best to convince me they're a hopeless case.

Mockery—The Permissible Form of Bullying?

Working against bullying is a big deal in schools, as well it should be. I've seen workshops, policies, text hotlines, and more. Some efforts seem more effective than others, and for some, I really have no idea whether they work or not. When teens already know they shouldn't do something, does telling them it's wrong again really stop them if they're so inclined?

Not sure. The main things I feel I can do are make it clear that I won't tolerate bullying in my classroom, and more importantly, set a good example.

Sometimes I wonder what kind of example we set amongst ourselves, though. Especially in this age of social media.

As I browse through my Twitter lists, it's mostly fun, games, and good information. There are also opinions, which are great. What's not so great is when opinions are of a type akin to "Anyone who thinks this way/votes this way/belongs to this party or organization is an idiot AND a lesser human being."

I'm nowhere near perfect, but whenever I disagree with someone, I do try to come at it from an angle that isn't judging them as a person. It takes a lot of effort—sometimes a crap-ton of effort, sometimes more effort than I can manage—but often I can get myself to the following head-space:

Their view on this is the total opposite of mine. We couldn't disagree more on this. But I see where they're coming from, and coming from there, what they think is reasonable for them. I still believe what I think is reasonable for me. We see it differently, and that's okay.

I have friends all along various spectrums—political, religious, whatever—so this mindset is very important to me. They're fabulous people—even the ones who hate math!

If a student vocally, stridently denigrated (for instance) people who buy into creationism, or gay people, or people who own guns, or people who have a live-in boyfriend ... if they did that in the middle of class, knowing there's every likelihood that someone in the room falls into that category, would we let it go?

Why, then, is it okay to watch a political party convention (either one) and go to town with mocking tweets, declaring the utter stupidity of everyone associated with that party?

Because we're adults and should be able to take it? Isn't that the old response to bullying? "You need to toughen up and just take it." Because we're free to fight back? That always goes well.

My opinion (and yes, just my opinion, so you can disagree): The way forward is in understanding. Not necessarily agreement. Definitely not homogeneity. But understanding where other views come from, and trying to find common ground.

Mockery closes doors and raises walls. My hope is that we all (myself included) will remember to think before we tweet (or post, or whatever). Who will be on the receiving end? Might I be actively insulting them by saying this?

Are my words hiding hate behind a veil of snark?

And what kind of example am I setting for future generations?

The Teenage Human as Observed in the Wild

... the "Wild" being a local junior high school, and the specimens under study being around fourteen years of age.

This list will be random and undoubtedly incomplete.

• Teenagers have a dysfunctional sense of auditory volume. No, I don't mean they play their music too loud (because, well, so do I). They talk too loud when they don't want the teacher to hear them and too soft when they do.

• They have an amazing capacity to disregard (or at least not notice) the needs of anyone other than themselves.

• They have an amazing capacity to assist with others' needs with no prompting or incentive.

• They still say thank you.

• They leave messes just like they do at home.

• They clean up better than they do at home.

• Most of them can grade their own work on the honor system just fine.

• Many are happy to read with any spare moment in class.

• A few are Rubik's Cube geniuses.

• Some broadcast their emotions from fifty feet away.

• Some have very non-emotive faces. You have to watch their eyes.

• They will surpass your expectations.

• They will live down to your expectations.

• They will smash your expectations.

• They see each other differently than we see them.

• They don't mind geeky adults (as long as the geeky adults care).

• They laugh at dirty jokes.

• They laugh at clean jokes.

• They laugh at dumb jokes that have been retold since they were in first grade.

• They don't know what to do when they're angry.

• They don't know what to do when they're sad.

• They know exactly what to do.

• They don't want to be treated like children.

• They don't want to be treated like adults (not 100% full-time, at least).

• Some already have to act like adults.

• Some think they're more on top of things than they are.

• Some think they're less capable than they are.

• Even the quietest have distinctive, interesting personalities. "Mary Sue" and the bland, empty-beaker persona don't exist ... and if they appear to, you're not looking hard enough.

That pretty much sums up the non-math side of the first three weeks of school.

What is Genius?

I admit, I've been called a genius before.

I also admit this was by young-ish people who knew I controlled their grade. Or who were easily impressed by my mathematical abilities.

As much as I appreciate the compliment, I'm no genius. Not by official standards, anyway. I test well, but not that well. I have moments of cleverness, but too many of them strike me long after the needed moment. I do plenty of stupid things.

You know, I bet certified geniuses do stupid things sometimes, too.

And I bet to some students, I am a genius ... in a way that has nothing to do with MENSA.

So unofficially, what is genius?

It's not about passing tests (and I say that as an ace test-taker ... near meaningless in my opinion). It's not necessarily about book-smarts, though there's nothing wrong with having those. Traditionally, book-smarts is about regurgitating information, re-creating someone else's genius.

To me, a genius is someone whose ideas or works spark a feeling of newness, differentness, freshness in my mind. Sounds a lot like having creativity and imagination, and those may be part of it. But I'm not sure they're required, either.

I think that spark of newness explains why some students call me a genius. I may talk about mathematics (or anything else) in a way they haven't heard before. It sparks a new connection.

Under that definition, genius is relative. It depends on our own experiences, expectations, and priorities. No membership cards, no certifications ... just our own acknowledgement of each other.

I kind of like it better that way. Maybe I'm a genius to some of my students. Many of them have been geniuses to me.

Who are some unacknowledged geniuses in your life?