Month: October 2021

Meditations on a Cogen (No. 3) • Thursday, October 28, 2021


During the 2021-22 school year I’m having weekly co-generative dialogues (or cogens) with my students. In an effort to help me process these talks and document progress, I summarize and write reflections after each cogen. This is the third post in the series.


Because of parent-teacher conferences, all after-school activities were canceled today. As a result, my cogen met during lunch. It was an impromptu change that I made last minute to build early continuity. I didn’t want to miss a week. I also wanted to show the students that our dialogue was vitally important to me. Even if after-school was canceled, our weekly exchange needed to happen. We had to find a way.

Thankfully, I lucked out because all the members of the cogen have lunch 4th period. After running down to retrieve two kids from the cafeteria (they forgot), we ended up spending 30 minutes together over snacks. Heeding their suggestions from last week, I brought bottles of water for us to sip while we chatted. We had bevs.

We opened the dialogue by checking in. How was everyone doing? We had a funny conversation about Slim Jims and Pringles. Who knew there was “mechanically separated chicken” in those things? Ouch.

After more small banter that warmed us up, I asked if they would prefer to meet during lunch (since we all share it) or after school like we have been doing. They were all indifferent, so we decided to keep holding our meetings on Thursday afternoons.

Next, we reviewed last week. We debriefed the roundtable I had with each of the classes last week on collaboration. It happened Friday and the cogen helped prep me for it last week Thursday. At the roundtable, the classes and I co-created a rubric to help us improve things like communication, asking questions, and presenting problems — all key elements of collaboration. The cogen felt that it went OK, but, outside of period 3, they hadn’t noticed much of a change in the levels of collaboration this week. This was hard for me to hear, but I owned it. I had to keep enforcing the rubric. To continue to improve collaboration, one suggestion from the cogen was to turn it into an in-class competition. We didn’t know what the competition would look like and how we might measure it, but agreed that it could motivate students to collaborate more. I loved the idea. As time passes, I also hope that our chemistry improves. This would help us build a more cohesive classroom community, foster collaboration, and help us feel responsible for each other’s learning.

The second item on the agenda — and what I wanted to focus heavily on — was tutoring. After I led a good-sized tutoring session this week for students retaking our most recent exam, I asked the cogen about it. How was it? Three members of the cogen were present at tutoring. But even if they didn’t attend, I ask them to think about what would make a good tutoring session. How could we ensure that attendees get the most of these sessions, I wondered. Is it better that it be teacher-led (i.e. whole group direct instruction) or can students be organized in small groups with me floating?

Their feedback was really helpful. After brainstorming, we decided that I would provide an answer key of the original exam (it seems basic, but I have never done this) and additional practice problems that mirror those from the exam. This way, the students could see correct solutions for the exam, discuss them together and with me, and then be able to spend time actually doing math. The tutoring session earlier this week consisted mainly of me reviewing the solutions on a whiteboard (i.e. direct instruction) and fielding their questions, but included no time for students to actually do mathematics. In the moment, I totally overlooked this. It’s no wonder why several students did poorly on the retake.

Towards the end, we spent a few minutes discussing the “cheat sheets” that I allow students to use on exams and — surprisingly — how a good amount of students don’t actually use them. This led to a bigger conversation about note-taking and studying for exams. I mentioned the idea of my future plans for “notebook quizzes” and how this will help them be more intentional about the notes they take this year. There was a mixed reaction from the group, some professing their dedication to taking noes while others dismissed it as tedious and confusing. I appreciated their honesty.

As the session concluded, my vibe was that the students seemed to feel genuinely comfortable expressing their ideas this week. They seemed less rehearsed and more natural in their gestures and commentary. Nonexistent was the awkwardness and silence that lurked during our first two meetings. This was reassuring and proof that we’re making progress as a group. There was even some back and forth between students, which was a weak point of my cogens last year. They were exceedingly brief, but during those moments I caught myself listening in to my students being critical of the class without me needing to keep the dialogue afloat. I appreciated that.


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Dear R, (Student Letter #9)

To help me be more critical and mindful of the bonds I’m forging in and out of the classroom, I write anonymous letters to some of my current and former students. This is the ninth post in the series.

Dear R,

Hey. Long time, no talk. Kidding, of course — I just saw you yesterday, but it was fitting I write you. As one of the first students I developed a genuine connection with this year, you have been a delight to have in class. Your humble, unassuming nature was refreshing from the start. I remember that during the first week of school you had your head down and I pulled up next to you and asked if everything was alright. You assured me that you were fine, just tired. It was our first real interaction.

One day, a week or two after, you showed up late to class. I was standing outside the door. I’m not sure why, but I held up my arm in the doorway, not letting you pass, and asked you for the “password.” I wasn’t going to let you into the classroom until you figured it out. You guessed three or four times before you got it correct. We laughed. It was so random and fun that, although you arrived on time, I asked you for another password the next day. And the next. And the next. Our funny, made-up “passwords” soon developed into a quirky daily routine that was a needed high note for me just before our class began. Crazily enough, on days that I wasn’t at the door, you began holding yourself accountable to the password and not walking in until I walked over and confirmed that your password was correct. Hilarious.

As I write this, I’m also left appreciating your Friday Letters. They’ve been heartwarming. I’m not sure why you decided to write one out of the blue, but I’m glad you did. You even started numbering your letters, which was unique. Through them, I enjoyed reading about your indecisiveness, struggles with AP Euro, and trip to DR. I wish I could have seen your 80 year-old grandmother’s face during her not-so-surprise birthday party that you and your family threw her. How fun.

This is why, this week, given all my excitement around teaching you and getting to know you, hearing about your transfer was so defeating for me. From your letters, I knew you and your mom were considering it, but if it was going to happen, I didn’t think it would happen so fast. I thought it would have taken a few more weeks, at least. But after I made a light-hearted reference to something next week, you told me that you wouldn’t be here for it. I asked why. You said Friday (yesterday) would be your last day. Your transfer went through. The last day of the marking period was going to be your last day as my student.

The moment was sudden and far heavier than I would have expected. Shocked, I forgot about whatever it was we were discussing. The joy left my face. The news saddened the rest of my day and woefully disrupted what has been a wonderful school year. I was dumbfounded and frustrated.

After months of heartache teaching students I never saw, this wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to experience sincere teacher-student connection like ours and then have it ripped away from me after only six weeks. I paid my dues to remote learning. I’ve earned my right to bond with my students again. This all feels so wrong. Somewhere, the spirit of remote learning is laughing at me.

(Sidenote: It’s interesting how I have begun thinking about and referring to remote learning as if it’s a living thing that was here for while and then moved on. I find a strange comfort in this.)

In time, my distress over you transferring will pass, but that doesn’t mean that I’ll forget you. I won’t. You gave me the gift of renewal and revealed the beauty in new beginnings. In the wake of emptiness and counterfeit classrooms, you offered up kindness and connection. Without trying, you were my first proof that the humanity in teaching and learning has indeed returned. Truth is, you were the sign that I was longing for. You let me know that it’s OK to lean in again. Thank you.

I wish you the absolute best at your new school and beyond. Please stay in touch.


Will miss you and our passwords,
Mr. P


P.S. Thanks again for the tortoise. Ironically enough, it’s one of my favorite animals. How fitting. It’ll rest on my desk for a long time and remind me of you and the rebirth of my teaching this year.

P.P.S. I’m so glad I could give you the Token of Appreciation. I was waiting a long time to find the right person — and you were it. Appreciate you, R.

Meditations on a Cogen (No. 2) • Thursday, October 21, 2021

During the 2021-22 school year I’m having weekly co-generative dialogues (or cogens) with my students. In an effort to help me process these talks and document progress, I summarize and write reflections after each cogen. This is the second post in the series.

Before this meeting, I made sure to touch base with all of the students throughout the week to remind them about it. All four students from the first meeting were able to attend. One of the students who couldn’t make it last week was also able to attend. It looks doubtful that the remaining two students that I originally spoke to are going to be able to participate because of availability and attendance issues. In the coming weeks, I need to find replacements.

We opened by sharing how our day went and grabbing some snacks. The goods are plentiful, but the kids noticed we had no beverages. I promised to bring water next week. I was so glad that they actually came back a second time that I told them this. There are many things that young people are asked to do these days. Requesting for 30 minutes of their time after school may not seem like a huge ask for some, but to me it is. I showered them with gratitude.

After checking in, I followed up on how we ended our last cogen. How did the DeltaMath review assignment go? We agreed that I would create it to help students prepare for the exam this week. It was optional and no one — including cogen students — was obligated to do it. Last Friday, I paid a visit to the teacher who was mentioned at last week’s cogen. He was the one who gave DeltaMath reviews that the students praised for helping them on exams. He and I talk often. I simply asked him how he did his reviews and if he had any tips. After our chat, I posted the review assignment on Monday. The exam was Tuesday.

In class, when I announced that I created a review assignment, I nodded to the cogen students as a sign of respect and appreciation. They were the reason I created the assignment and I wanted them to understand that — at least on a personal level. I haven’t announced the cogen in any of my classes, but that may change down the road.

Anyway, about the assignment, half of the cogen students said they didn’t have time to do it. The other half started it but didn’t complete it because they got stuck on a problem and didn’t push through. One student complete it and said that it significantly helped her. Having all the topics in one place was what she liked best. Her exam score reflected this; she did far better on this exam than she did on the previous one.

After looking over the data, I noticed that about 20% of students completed the review assignment, with around 50% of students trying some part of it. I presented the cogen with this data and probed them. I was curious, what could encourage more students to do it? Given all the demands placed on them, what could make the review assignment a priority?

They threw out the idea of giving extra credit for doing the assignment. The extra credit could be awarded on a sliding scale and added to the final score of the exam. I expressed my hesitancy about giving extra credit but remained open to it. I got some nods from some of the students who understood the optional nature of the assignment. Interestingly, one student also asked whether we could track the students who completed the assignment with their exam performance to see if there’s a correlation. I nearly hugged him when he said this! Ultimately, we decided to try the assignment again sans extra credit and see what happens. It was only the first time, so maybe engagement with it will improve once students see its value. Given that the next exam is 2-3 weeks away, we tabled the discussion and made plans to revisit it.

Other than revisiting the review assignment, I wanted to ask the cogen about our class discussions. I’ve noticed many more of my students struggling to collaborate in effective ways these last couple of weeks. In some ways, I think the honeymoon of being back at school is over. As a result, their willingness to reach across the table for help — or to help– is starting to diminish. At the same time, I think I overlooked how intentional I needed in helping students to communicate, present solutions, and seek help from others. To address this, I’m planning a whole-class roundtable for tomorrow to discuss these issues. I want to use the time to talk about what good and bad collaboration looks like and co-create a collaboration rubric with my classes. This rubric would be used to help us measure our levels of collaboration and improve them over time.

After saying this, I asked the cogen what they thought. They offered up reasons that might explain our current struggles. Some felt uncomfortable critiquing other students’ work. Some felt that the work on the boards could be neater and the presenters could be louder. Others didn’t feel responsible for other students’ learning and instead subconsciously viewed themselves as islands. This last point struck me as something to pursue further as a possible yearlong theme/goal with my classes — to the responsible for each others’ learning. Near the end, there was a suggestion about me being more deliberate about identifying “problem leaders.” I try this when I select presenters, but this proposal felt different. It made me think of small pockets of students forming around certain boards which are led by students giving explanations. These would be students that would lead other students in understanding the problems we study each day.

As the meeting came to an end, I felt really good about how things went today. The discourse was productive and less awkward than last week. It helped that we had a change — a collective decision — to reflect on. Where and how we ended our talk really prepped me for having the whole class discussion tomorrow around collaboration.


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Teacher aesthetic

Yo, mister, where you going after school? You going to a party or something?

That’s what one of my students asked me when he walked into fifth period recently. His comment was a reference to what I was wearing that day. I had some nice slacks on, a tailored navy blazer, a crisp white button up, and clean white sneakers to bring it all together. Noticing my stylistic efforts, his initial reaction was that I had to be dressed so well because of an after school event that required me to look the part. I had to be going to a party or somewhere similar. Otherwise, why look so nice?

The truth is, I wasn’t going anywhere after school. I had nothing particularly interesting going on that day. His remarks flattered me, but my attempt to look fresh was nothing more than an effort to look and feel good while teaching my students. They were my party.

That said, it was a conscious act. I say this because we teachers often forget that content and pedagogy emerge from and are enacted by a body. As the leaders in the classroom, how we function in educational spaces with students is not purely intellectual or academic enterprise. Personal aesthetic matters, too. We must remember that we are thoroughly seen by the young people we teach. We are walking visuals of our personality, of our beliefs. Whether it’s a Star Wars t-shirt or a pair of Timberlands, our attire is major part of how we communicate who we are and what we value. We are more than what we wear, but our bodies and the clothing that adorn them can’t be downplayed as insignificant in the learning process.

Teachers respect students in a lot of different ways and I think how we present ourselves aesthetically is one of them. I believe that, without saying a single word, how I dress signals to my students how I feel about being with them in the classroom. When I take the time to coordinate colors or make sure my shoes or belt or socks play well off each other, I’m saying that my students are worth that extra attention to detail. For me, this also means that I have to go beyond a shirt, tie, and dress shoes. No offense, but they’re vanilla and just not me. I’d rather show up in a hoodie under a blazer or a pair of cherry red pumas or some patterned trousers — items that show more of my personality. I find that being authentic through what I wear holds artistic and emotional significance for students. They easily pick up on my authenticity which in turn helps them determine not only the type of relationship we will have, but also what and how learning will look like in our class.

Of course, this respect lands in different ways amongst my students, resonating more with some than with others. But given my urban context and the esteem that this form personal expression often holds with youth of color, I’m convinced that my personal aesthetic makes a considerable difference in my relatedness and the effectiveness of my pedagogy.

In For White Folks Who Teach in the Hood…and the Rest of Y’all Too, Christopher Emdin captures the importance of aesthetics in the classroom perfectly in a chapter called “Clean.” I could quote the entire chapter because it’s so damn on point, but I’ll settle for this passage that gets to the heart of the matter:

While many may not see what style has to do with teaching and learning, I argue that the art of teaching the neoindigenous requires a consideration of the power of art, dress, and other dimensions of their aesthetic. Teachers often fail to understand that the bleak realities of urban youth and the drab physical spaces they are often confined to contribute to an insatiable desire to engage in, and with, artistically stimulating objects and environments. The wearing of the matching outfits and the euphoria that comes with being recognized for one’s self-presentation serve as an escape from a harsh reality. (p. 167)

Framed this way, how I choose to express myself stylistically means more than blindly covering my body and arriving at school. It adds another dimension to my practice that will never show up in a lesson plan or observation report, but makes a huge difference in how I reach my students.

This is even more true at my school because my students wear uniforms. Aside from my bias against uniforms, or at least the uniform policies that I’ve witnessed, my interest in looking good is a way of showing students that one can thrive in academic spaces while simultaneously embracing personal aesthetic. School isn’t intellect or bust. You can look fresh, authentically express yourself, and thrive in academic spaces all at the same time. Unfortunately, because of uniform, my students don’t have these privileges. Their individuality has been erased and substituted with a bland polo shirt with a school logo on it. But, unlike my students, I have the freedom to decide how I clothe my body. And, for me, exercising this liberty is intentional. In a small way, I like to think that it serves as a kind of model for not sacrificing yourself while in the pursuit of academic success. You can be professional and look good doing it. You can keep your cool (read: swag) while bettering yourself and those around you.

In thinking back on my student from fifth period, I’m reminded of remote learning and how, for the most part, none of this mattered. I could don my Panama hat from time to time, but I was largely reduced to a profile picture and virtual background as my primary forms of personal expression. Thankfully, our physical appearance and the weight it holds in the classroom has returned. I heavily rely on this dynamic to connect with students and help learning take hold. It’s yet another reason why I’m glad I escaped the torturous grip of remote learning and why I never want to go back.


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