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Teaching is personal

We are invited to teach information as though it does not emerge from bodies.

~bell hooks, Teaching to Transgress

Often times I hear the phrase, “separate your personal and professional lives.” Of course, this catch-all phrase assumes a dichotomy and that separating our personal and professional lives is actually possible. It makes the issue a matter of black-and-white. It’s as if our home and work lives are completely distinct.

I can’t speak for other professions (I’ve only ever been a teacher), but I’m more and more convinced that this just isn’t so for teaching.

Teaching has always felt like a profession that does a great job of blurring the lines between the personal and professional. The work we do in the classroom is so humanistic in nature. We are in the business of helping other humans better themselves through learning. We help them uncover new ideas, connect it to what they already know, and reflect on why it matters in the long run. For me, these are the types of human interactions that require my full self to do effectively.

Similarly, my last post hints at how my professional life has influenced my personal life. I probably wouldn’t have made the decisions about buying custom t-shirts and using sidewalk chalk to make accessible math for my community had I been a construction worker or a dentist.

Back to teaching, I suppose we can help students uncover objective facts neutrally. We can attempt to “remove” ourselves from the delivery of content. We could teach by focusing only on the purely academic (see definition 2) side of things. But by doing so, we disregard every human in the room. And teaching is very, very personal work. Every day in my classroom, there are over 30 wildly diverse personalities converging. This convergence is an explosion of knowledge and social and emotional tendencies that cannot be forced to do anything that’s worth doing. Over the course of a school year, somehow I must learn who my students are as learners and people. I must plan for them, their dispositions, their vulnerabilities, their cultures, their identities, their families. I must somehow leverage all this human capital for the betterment of everyone present. I’ve realized that this happens tortuously slowly, like a tugboat pushing a barge. But at the same time, it also happens collectively and in unison. In a recent talk, Patrick Honner so eloquently said that teaching “brought me back to the edge of human knowledge…and it’s not lonely out there, because we’re out there together.”

Because we are bound to our students on this adventure to better ourselves each day, how can we be expected to be mindful of our students’ personal lives, their lived experiences, if it is expected that we forget about our own once we welcome them into the classroom?

Who I am as a person outside of the classroom universally affects what I do inside the classroom. If I am teaching genuinely, my two “lives” are inseparable. Do I forget this at times? Heck yeah. When I do forget it, I say and do things at critical points that separate who I am from the situation. Usually, my decision is one that dodges conflict and that allows everyone to sit peacefully in their comfort zone. I don’t challenge the given.

As the inherent leaders of our classrooms, acknowledging and embracing our personal lives and attitudes in the classroom is critical to its ultimate success. This happens when we plan before students arrive and during class on a one-on-one and whole class basis. Most teachers don’t even realize it when it’s happening. Justifyably so, many of us (myself included) place much of our energy on addressing our students’ needs and forget about our own selves in relation to that work. But just like our students, we too have personal histories, interests, identities, and biases. These features are deeply rooted in who we are as people and, consequently, who we are as teachers. As important and involved as teaching is, I’ve found that it demands that I purposely recognize, and integrate, my personal self as part of the process.

As teachers, who we are matters. A lot. In fact, whether we like it or not, our personal lives are already part of our professional lives. If we can do our best to welcome that into our practice by design, while it won’t make our work any easier, it may make what we do with students more relevant and forthcoming. Maybe.


Sidewalk Math


Every time the weather gets turns favorable, I get inspired to grab some sidewalk chalk and do #sidewalkmath. It’s been a thing for me the last couple of years. It’s a great way to promote public displays of math (which we never see), get the general public thinking about math (which rarely happens informally), and work in some creativity in the process. I’ve been messing around with #sidewalkmath in the neighborhood where I live (here and here), and I’ve also had students take part the last couple of years.

With this in mind, last week I took the kiddos out to let them publicly showcase their mathematical prowess via the sidewalk. They were graphing trigonometric functions and the sidewalk was primed and ready to go. I numbered each slab in front of our school, paired them up, and gave them a trig function. I let them go. After they graphed their own equation, they had write the equation for another graph on the sidewalk.



I read somewhere that our school is located in the poorest congressional district in the U.S.  While the kids and I were out in front of our school sketching the functions, it hit me that the overwhelming majority of the people that walked by our math probably had clue what they were looking at. That’s disappointing for sure, but precisely why doing it was so important.



Man, you talk about teaching as if it were love


Today is Valentine’s Day. I don’t really celebrate it, but it hit me that I recent conversation would make for the perfect post for today.

A couple weeks back, a group of colleagues and I were sitting around having a conversation about the teaching profession at my school. We talked about a lot of stuff ranging from our views on professional development, the transition that comes with changing schools, how to best reach struggling students, among other things.

I can’t remember exactly what I was talking about, but at one point I finished my thought and one of the relatively younger teachers in the group told me, in a matter-of-factly sort of way, “man, you talk about teaching as if it were love.

Wait, what? Did he just drop the L word?

He probably didn’t think twice about his remark, but I was caught off guard.

I never thought about it, but he was right. The moment was an unexpected self-realization. I was, and often do, talk about teaching like I would talk about love. It’s not far-fetched to say that most people would equate “talking about love” to expressing deeply held emotions that one holds for someone or something. I don’t want to sit here and try to define love, but I think it’s fair to say that it means to be strongly connected by means of admiration and devotion. It indicates an unbreakable bond and profound respect. It means embracing the inevitable struggle and hardship attached to the subject of your love.

All of that, and more, reflects the feelings I have for teaching and the teaching profession. It’s not just a job or career for me, it’s a relationship. It can be too heavy at times for certain discussions, but hey, it’s coming from a great place. A place filled with love.

Happy Valentine’s Day.