Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 136
January 29, 2022
Swearing is not this thing
January 28, 2022
Killed by misinformation
January 27, 2022
Love teachers
Teaching, like many other professions, has become a lot more difficult in the midst of this pandemic, for a number of reasons.
Forgive the following frank talk.
Teachers spend 6-7 hours a day in the room filled with human beings, many of whom are unvaccinated and don’t exactly wear their masks with total efficacy.
The clients with whom I routinely consult – attorneys, bankers, Silicon Valley executives, and business owners – are astounded by the thought that I spend my days inside a single room with 24 other human beings, and that I’ve been doing this since October of 2020. Most are still working remotely. Those who have returned to the office are rarely in a room with more than three or four people at a time.
To be enclosed in a space with two dozen other human beings for hours at a time is unthinkable to many of them.
Teachers are also masked for most of the day while simultaneously trying to project their voices across a classroom of students who are now spread to the far corners of the space. It’s physically exhausting. Many teachers are turning to voice amplification systems to help them be heard, often purchased with their own money.
Not surprising, of course. Most teachers routinely use their own money to purchase school supplies because the districts don’t or can’t provide enough money for supplies themselves.
Adding to these difficulties is the isolation that teachers are feeling. The realities of pandemic teaching are often unknown or misunderstood by administrators who have never spent a single day constantly masked in a room filled with other human beings. It’s not that these administrators are malevolent or uncaring. They simply have never taught in the midst of a pandemic, so their expertise on the subject is almost nonexistent.
Their opinions, when expressed, are based in theory and conjecture only.
If the administrator is removed from the school as well as the classroom, sitting in some ivory tower in the center of town, their expertise is even less relevant.
Earlier this year, for example, I was asked to attend a virtual meeting in a room with my colleagues.
Did you get that?
The content was being presented via Zoom, but after spending an entire day wearing a mask, we were asked to congregate with our fellow teachers in another room, where we would also need to be masked and unnecessarily exposed to other people when infection rates were soaring.
We ignored this directive, of course, because we believe in both civil disobedience and self care, but it’s indicative of an administrator who lacks the experience of teaching in the midst of a pandemic protocols.
Students are also masked all day, making it both challenging to hear them and exceedingly difficult to determine who is speaking out of turn, since we can no longer see their mouths moving. Just this week I scolded a student for speaking out of turn, only to discover that it was the student sitting beside him who was speaking.
Add to this that the job of teachers has fundamentally changed. Instead of encouraging collaboration and partnerships, teachers spend their days demanding physical distance from their students, timing small group encounters to ensure they are less than 15 minutes in duration, and spreading students across a classroom that once featured children in teams, centers, bunches, and nooks.
The way that teachers do their jobs has changed dramatically in the past three years, and we have frankly been making it up as we go. Building the plane while it’s already in the air.
It’s exhausting.
In additional to all of this is the struggle of quarantined students, who now require at-home activities designed to promote learning and maintain skill acquisition. As we teach the students in front of us, we must also find ways to engage students at home, respond to emails from parents and students about their at-home learning, and reteach entire lessons and units that were missed when the student was away in quarantine.
Add to this the profound needs of students in terms of their social and emotional welfare. Students are more disregulated than ever before. They are tired, scared, frustrated, worried, and depressed. They miss their assemblies and field trips and sports. They miss working with friends without thinking about a virus. They require an enormous about of care and love, both in the form of old fashioned TLC as well as a multitude of lessons specifically designed to meet these new and ever-evolving needs.
All of this was plopped onto the teachers’ plate while removing nothing in exchange.
This is also nothing new.
When I began teaching 24 years ago, the internet didn’t exist in a form that was usable by students and most adults. Kids barely touched a computer. Today teachers spend enormous amounts of time teaching students how to use technology in effective, safe, and ethical ways, yet nothing was ever removed from the curriculum as these needs were added and expanded. I still teach the same subjects that I did 24 years ago, plus a lot of other stuff, too, because teachers are expected to somehow manipulate the space-time continuum on a daily basis and fit more and more into each hour of teaching.
Add to all of this the concern for colleagues. The absence of quarantined and sick teachers for weeks at a time. The loss of the parts of the job that we loved most. Contact tracing. Wellness checks. Hand sanitizer. Plastic shields. Using the same restroom as our students to limit exposure to other teachers and students. The constant, relentless concern that one slip in protocol could lead to a child becoming sick and perhaps bringing COVID-19 home to vulnerable members of their family.
The list is endless. Teachers are frayed and still fraying. Teachers sit in their cars and cry before and after school each day. We are going to lose a lot of good people and great teachers before the end of this pandemic.
Here’s the thing:
There isn’t much that can be done to make teaching any easier right now. It’s hard, and it’s going to remain hard until this pandemic eases up.
A pay raise would be good given the added pressures and responsibilities, but Americans are fond of claiming support for education while trying to pay teachers as little as possible.
Additional staffing to remove some of the burdens placed upon teachers throughout the school day would be extraordinary, but again, we love our schools but limit their funding as much as possible because increased financial support equates to an increase in taxes.
An easing of testing pressure and the overwhelming demands of the curriculum would be fantastic, but after watching these trends move in the wrong direction for 24 years, I’m not holding my breath.
Improved curriculum (or in some cases, just curriculum), an increase in planning time, and reliable photocopiers would all be excellent, too. But again, I’m not holding my breath.
But there is something that can be done, and it costs nothing:
Be kind to teachers.
Express gratitude whenever possible.
Write notes of appreciation. Send emails expressing support. Fire off a text message saying thank you. Write letters to principals and superintendents, singing the praises of your child’s teacher.
Teachers are a strange bunch. Words of encouragement mean a lot to us. Positive feedback means the world to educators who often work alone with children for so much of the day. A kind word or a paragraph or two of affirmation can sometimes mean the difference between getting through a day feeling great about yourself or ending the day with absolute certainty that you have failed yet again.
I am fortunate enough to have a principal who understands much of this. He dedicates enormous amounts of time and energy to making his teachers feel appreciated and revered. He bends and breaks unnecessary rules in order to make teachers’ days better. He works himself to the bone to make these impossible days a little less impossible for the people teaching children in our school.
But I’m one of the lucky ones. Not every administrator is like this. Frankly, most are not. Administrators tend to be tragic rule followers. List checkers. Loyal foot soldiers. But this is not a time for conformity. This is a time that demands creativity, courage, compassion, and common sense.
For many teachers, this is in short supply.
This is why Elysha and I make every effort to let Clara and Charlie’s teachers know how much we appreciate their efforts. Support their work. Love them for loving our children. We write letters and send emails and write to the Superintendent about how these professionals are so effectively teaching and loving our kids.
That’s the amazing thing about teachers:
They love their students. Every year they invite a new batch of kids into their classroom, and within a week, they love each and every one of them.
Even the annoying ones.
They take other people’s children and love them for a year while oftentimes feeling painfully unloved for all that they do.
If you want to help a teacher during this pandemic (and even after), make your child’s teacher feel loved. Or reach out to a teacher who made a difference in your life and thank them for all they did for you.
I’m sure there are many other professions in their world equally in need of gratitude. Healthcare workers come immediately to mind, as do grocery store employees. Anyone working closely with the public in a setting that is potentially unsafe, constantly overwhelming, and fundamentally changing because of the pandemic.
I know teachers well, so I’m writing about them. It’s why I’m urging you to make their days better and easier with a little bit of love.
It will cost you nothing, but it will mean a whole hell of a lot.
January 25, 2022
Obscure cultural references?
In an episode of Ted Lasso that Elysha and I watched this week, Ted was placed in hotel room 5150.
In response, Ted and Beard made a Van Halen joke.
Later in the episode, a woman referred to Ted Lasso as Magnum PI.
In the Marvel movie The Eternals, a character made a reference to Miss Havisham when describing the interior of a spaceship.
I was pleased with all three references. Each tickled by cultural funny bone, but my question is this:
How many Americans occupy the very middle of the intersecting Venn diagram of people who understand all three references?
As a storyteller, I attempt to avoid cultural references at all times, fully aware that a reference not understood by audience members makes those audience members feel left out and confused.
I’m also fully aware of the fragmented nature of American culture today. The monoculture is dead. Subcultures rule. What you think of as ubiquitous and universal is completely unknown but many others.
So how many Americans understood all three of those references:
The title of a rock band’s 1986 album (and only their third bestselling album)
The titular character of a show that went off the air 34 years ago. And yes, the show was rebooted in 2018, but the lead in the modern day version of Magnum PI doesn’t even have the mustache that makes the connection between Thomas Magnum and Ted Lasso so apparent, thus muddying the cultural waters even more
The supporting character in an 1861 novel by Charles Dickens
I’d love to think that most Americans understand all three of these cultural references, but really I’m not sure.
I’m the parent of a teenager
Elysha and I have a teenager today. Clara turns 13 years old at 11:50 AM.
When your baby is born, there is no telling who they will grow up to be. You have hopes that they will be happy and healthy, but everything else is an unknown. You just have to wait and hope and see.
Clara has turned out to be a bundle of wonderful surprises.
Clara Susan Dicks is…
The most ravenous reader who I have ever known
A relentlessly loyal sister
A lover of terrible television shows
An enthusiastic singer
Loud at all times
An ardent, sometimes angry feminist
A fierce advocate of the neurodiverse
Proudly Jewish
An enthusiastic artist
A lover of grilled cheese, pizza, apples, and almost nothing else
A writer of novels and fan fiction
A self-imposed student of history and mythology
An unrelenting, undeterred, oftentimes unwanted teacher of mythology
An ally of LGBTQ folks everywhere
A constant listener of audiobooks and music
An early riser
A loving granddaughter
A fan of museums – both art and science
An adorer of chocolate
A Harry Potter enthusiast
An occasional stomper and door slammer
A loyal and loving cousin
A subscriber to many educational YouTube channels
A drinker of milk
An incessant talker during movies
An obsessive of babies, small children, and cats
An ardent rule follower
A Minecraft builder
A collector of special things
An unabashed nonconformist
The daughter of two proud, blessed, head-over-heels in love parents
January 24, 2022
Jon Jay Read, back in my life for a few moments
A beautiful little thing happened to me yesterday.
I was sitting by the fire, sorting through a pile of children’s books, listening to The Moth’s podcast, when I heard my old friend Jon Jay Read’s voice begin to tell a story.
Jon passed away a few years back, quite suddenly from heart failure, at an all-too-young age. I spent many a night at The Moth with Jon, listening to his stories, chatting about life, and sharing time and space together. Jon lived in an apartment above Housing Works, where The Moth hosts StorySLAMs, so even when he wasn’t telling a story, he was often in the audience, supporting others.
Jon and I competed against each other many times, but Jon was far less interested in winning than he was in simply sharing meaningful moments of his life with others and connecting with people in meaningful ways.
When his voice appeared in my headphones, it was like he had returned for a moment. Almost as if he had never left.
The story featured on the podcast was told in a Moth GrandSLAM in which I also competed. I remember Jon’s performance so well. Listening to his words brought the image of Jon standing onstage at The Music Hall of Williamsburg right back to the front of my mind.
It’s a beautiful thing… to hear a person speak so clearly and authentically even though they have passed on. Bittersweet, too, but so, so beautiful. By simply pressing play, Jon had returned to my life for a little bit, and I was so happy he did.
How lucky we are to live in a time when audio and video recording is so easy. A time when our voices and images are so easily captured and preserved for others.
Be sure to record yourself often. Speak into a phone or computer and share your stories and thoughts. Leave enough behind for your future generations so they can bring you back for a few moments like Jon came back to me.
Before that, listen to his story if you haven’t heard it already. You’ll love Frenchie. I promise.
January 23, 2022
My latest endeavor: Hot Botties
As a storyteller, I’ve been asked to do some unexpected things.
I’ve served as the substitute minister for actual church services in actual churches in three different states.
I’ve taught Santa Clauses to tell better stories to the children sitting on their laps for photos.
I went to Canada to teach members of the Mohawk tribe tell better stories as they learned their native language.
I took 13 rabbis into the woods – some quite reluctantly – to teach them to tell better stories.
I once shouted out stories from the top of a table when the power went out and the only source of light were the flashlights of cell phones aimed at me.
I once told a story to magician David Blaine in the corner of a ballroom as he recorded it on his iPhone. He then performed an impossible magic trick for me that has me convinced that magic might be real.
I’ve consulted on marketing plans, sermons, TED Talks, screenplays, speeches, books, song lyrics, YouTube channels, comic books, and commercials. I work with hospitals, corporations, advertising forms, insurance companies, nonprofits, school districts, colleges and universities, and many more.
It’s been a crazy ride.
Newly added to my list of unexpected opportunities is this:
Hot Botties, a first-of-its-kind conversational NFT project by Ann Guo, founder of Mint Mentality LLC.
It’s essentially an NFT chat bot, offering an amusing and sexy interaction with its singular owner. Now available for purchase.
I was asked to do a little writing, a little revising, and a little consulting on character and dialogue.
When I told my first story on a stage back in July of 2010, I never expected to one day be writing sexy dialogue for non fungible tokens.
It’s a good lesson for all of us:
When you dive headfirst into something new, your expectations and reality are often two very different things.
January 22, 2022
Ted Lasso update: Impressions through episode #5
As requested by many, here is an update on my impressions of Ted Lasso through episode #5.
Warning:
Spoilers ahead for those who haven’t watched the show, though it feels me and Elysha are the only ones on the planet who haven’t yet.
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The opening sequence is genius. A perfect metaphor of the show.
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There are no real antagonists (bad guys) in this show. Just people in need of love and understanding in varying degrees. This is lovely but a little syrupy.
Also, I think, just right for these times. In a world filled with pandemic and political and social division, I suspect that part of Ted Lasso’s appeal is the absence of truly terrible people. With the exception of Rupert, the club owner’s husband (who thus far is a tertiary character at best), everyone is fundamentally a good, albeit flawed, person.
When a virus is trying to kill you and democracy feels perilously fragile, a television show filled with characters who are flawed but not evil might be exactly what you need.
Ted Lasso’s greatness might have a lot to do with its excellent timing.
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I have frequently been described as oppressively optimistic, overly pie-in-the-sky, and unrealistically positive from time to time.
I’ve even been accused of toxic positivity on one or two occasions, which is both a ridiculous accusation and an even more ridiculous concept.
I’ll write about toxic positivity another time, but suffice it to say:
Anyone who loves Ted Lasso and the way he approaches life can immediately stop complaining about my optimism and shut the hell up. Compared to Ted Lasso, I’m almost a Debbie Downer.
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I like the character of Ted Lasso a lot. He’s uncommonly likable. Goofy yet self-assured. Comfortable in almost any situation. Kind beyond compare. Somehow cool despite also being very uncool. And it works. I believe this human being could exist in real life.
Also, the moment in episode #5 when Ted deduces that Rupert was the one responsible for Robbie Williams canceling on the fundraiser in order to embarrass Rebecca was a wonderful indication of Ted’s often concealed intelligence.
Brilliant bit of writing.
I wonder if Robbie Williams approved of his inclusion in the plot line.
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The actual soccer has been cliche and silly so far.
“The best player is selfish and egotistical, so only when he is benched can the team come together and win” has been done many, many times before.
“The team needs to just pass the ball in order to win” is an identical plot point in “Hoosiers.”
Ted Lasso feels like a show about sports written for people who have never watched a show about sports, so there are no worries about leaning into tropes.
I’d like the actual soccer to either be more nuanced or simply not included as a significant part of the plot.
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Stephen Spielberg once said that one of his biggest directorial mistakes was sending Richard Dreyfuss’s character – the father of three small children – into space with the aliens in “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.” No right minded father would leave his kids behind in order to voyage into space with extraterrestrials.
Especially not one as kind and decent as the character who Dreyfuss portrays.
Spielberg explained that he wasn’t yet a father while directing the film, so he didn’t understand what it meant to be a father or a parent. As a result, he sent Dreyfuss’s character to space, which he now sees as a mistake.
I feel the same about Ted Lasso.
Sure, Ted’s therapist advised him to give his wife space, but all the way across an ocean? To coach a sport he knows nothing about? Leaving behind his seven year-old son in the process?
It doesn’t work for me. It goes against every fiber of Ted Lasso’s being.
Lasso was a successful college football coach. He could’ve gotten a job coaching football within a 50 mile radius of his wife and son and still given her all the space she needed. I miss Charlie 15 minutes after he’s gone to bed. Am I really expected to believe that a man like Ted Lasso can simply leave his son behind like that?
I don’t. I didn’t like this plot point one bit.
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Overall, I’m enjoying the show. I like it a lot, but I don’t yet love it.
At least not yet.
It’s flawed for sure, but the humor, characters, relationships, and genuine surprises make up for the problems so far.
January 21, 2022
RIP Meat Loaf
Meat Loaf, whose real name was Marvin Lee Aday, passed away last night. He was 74 years-old.
I’m deeply saddened.
I genuinely loved Meat Loaf’s music and was fortunate enough to see him in concert a handful of times. The last time, about 20 years ago, he performed alongside Cyndi Lauper in one of the most fun concerts I’ve ever attended. I danced the night away.
A few memories related to Meat Loaf:
I first discovered Meat Loaf in the mid 1980’s after attending midnight showings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show in Harvard Square. Meat Loaf sings many of the songs in the film and also plays Eddie, a motorcycle enthusiast who is chopped to pieces via chainsaw by Tim Curry’s character. After falling in love with the soundtrack to the show, including the many audience participation albums, I decided to find out if Meat Loaf had any other music.
Low and behold, he did. Of course he did. His 1977 album Bat Out of Hell is one of the bestselling albums in history.
I spent a great deal of time and effort in the mid to late 1980’s collecting all of Meatloaf’s albums on cassette. The four albums between Bat Out of Hell and 1993’s Bat Out of Hell II were not well received and did not sell well, each only going gold.
As a result, they were nearly impossible to find.
People born in the age of the internet and streaming might have difficulty understanding this, but there was a time when things needed to be searched for in the physical world and sometimes could not be found at all. I scoured independent and used record shops throughout Boston and New York, eventually collecting all of them. Honestly, I think they are nearly as good as the Bat Out of Hell albums, but not everyone would agree.
As I started listening to his music, I found some of his lyrics difficult to understand, and again, before the internet and in the absence of lyrics in the liner notes, people in the pre-internet era were left to simply guess at (and occasionally debate about) some of the lines. So I put out a call to all my friends:
“Find me the lyrics to the Bat Out of Hell album, and I will marry you!”
Heather Macchi eventually produced a songbook for Bat Out of Hell, written for piano and guitar players, which included the vocal lyrics.
I did not marry Heather, but 35 years later, that song book is sitting beside me as I write these words.
Elysha is not a Meat Loaf fan. No one is perfect, of course. She also loves Steely Dan, which might be worse than not loving Meat Loaf.
But early on in our relationship, I argued that Elysha didn’t give Meat Loaf a fair chance, so she agreed to listen to his music on the way to the Berkshires to visit her parents. About an hour into the drive, we pulled into the parking lot of a Stop & Shop to pick up groceries for her parents. I turned off the car, stopping the music, then turned to her and said, “What do you think?”
Her face said it all. But then, in case I wasn’t properly reading her facial expression, she said, “I don’t know if I can be with you anymore.”
Turns out her distaste for Meat Loaf is legit. At least so far. We’re all evolving. Perhaps she just needs more time.
Though I shouldn’t be surprised about her feelings for the music. She can’t stand music that intends to be dramatic in any way.
Meat Loaf is all drama.
When Bengi and I became wedding DJ’s, we started playing Meat Loaf’s best known song, “Paradise By the Dashboard Lights” at weddings. There’s a part in the song when the female vocalist, Ellen Foley, and Meatloaf, sing back and forth, almost competitively.
Foley demands to know if Meat Loaf will love her forever before she agrees to have sex with him.
Meatloaf asks to sleep on it, promising to tell her in the morning.
The two go back and forth for quite a while before Meat Loaf eventually agrees to love her forever, then he regrets it for the rest of his life.
At weddings, I would don a blond wig, assemble the women, and lead them in singing Foley’s part, while Bengi would assemble the men and do the same. It’s the kind of thing that Elysha would despise and I would admittedly not want at my wedding, but many of our clients did.
Singing a Meat Loaf song alongside Bengi at hundreds of weddings while wearing a wig is one of my favorite memories of our wedding DJ days.
But now Meat Loaf is gone.
When I discovered that Kurt Vonnegut passed away in 2007 at the age of 84 (after falling down steps at his home), I wept.
When I learned of Meat Loaf’s death this morning, I was deeply saddened, and there might’ve been a tear in my eye as I wrote these words. For a long time, Meat Loaf’s music has been part of the soundtrack of my life, blasting in the car and my classroom, playing in my headphones at the gym, and filling my head with music anytime I was feeling less than enthusiastic.
Those songs will undoubtedly continue to do so.
Meat Loaf’s songs are long, bombastic, theatrical, and unlike most of the music produced over the course of his lifetime, and I loved almost all of them. I still do.
Meat Loaf and his music were both larger than life, which is why it’s so hard to imagine a world without him. I’m so sad to see him go. He will be missed by many, myself included.
Rest in peace, Meat Loaf. Thank you so very much for all of the music and memories.
January 20, 2022
Increase test scores with better busing
About 55 percent of public school students in the United States take the bus to school, and 95 percent of those buses have diesel engines.
Based on analyses of the pollutant levels produced by of those engines, the pollutants on school buses are 5 to 10 times higher than nearby areas.
There’s further evidence that reducing these pollutant levels would have significant, positive public health outcomes for children riding these buses every day.
There’s even evidence that retrofitting diesel buses to pollute less is linked to increasing test scores.
Another way to put it is this:
Teachers could find ways to work smarter and harder on behalf of students, or we could just stop poisoning them on the way to school.
We really suck.
