Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 37
October 2, 2024
Michelle Obama
From Michelle Obama’s brilliant DNC speech:
_______________________________
“She (Kamala Harris) understands that most of us will never be afforded the grace of failing forward. We will never benefit from the affirmative action of generational wealth.
If we bankrupt a business or choke in a crisis, we don’t get a second, third, or fourth chance.
If things don’t go our way, we don’t have the luxury of whining or cheating others to get further ahead. We don’t get to change the rules so we always win.
If we see a mountain in front of us, we don’t expect there to be an escalator waiting to take us to the top.
No, we put our heads down. We get to work. In America, we do something.”
_______________________________
The whole speech was fantastic—both in content and delivery—but this section, and especially that first paragraph, was the part I loved most.
“Most of us will never be afforded the grace of failing forward.
We will never benefit from the affirmative action of generational wealth.”
Boy do I love those two sentences.
I have nothing against folks blessed with a safety net that allows them to fail without disaster. I know people for whom their first, second, and even third businesses didn’t work out but had the luxury of settling into a family business, falling back on inheritance, or enjoying the generosity of parents who were willing to pick their children up, dust them off, and equip them for another adventure.
From a distance, the affirmative action of generational wealth appears to be a lovely thing. I know nothing about it, but I would not have complained if I had been blessed with any generational wealth.
But it’s when these same people fail to acknowledge their privilege, attribute their success solely to hard work and intelligence, and besmirch others for failing to achieve similar results despite the absence of generational wealth, a family business, a graduate degree funded by parents, and a perpetually strong safety net that my blood boils.
It feels good to know you pulled yourself up by your bootstraps. Knowing that you’ve survived and thrived on your own builds heaps of confidence, self-esteem, and inner fortitude. I can understand why someone who enjoys “the affirmative action of generational wealth” might not be excited about crediting some of their success to the previous generation’s hard work and good fortune.
But for every person who has managed to pull themselves up by the bootstraps, many have tried and failed — not for lack of effort but simply because they lacked other essentials required for success, like good luck, fortuitous timing, the right mentor, and more.
Luck plays a role in all of our lives, but it becomes much less important when you enjoy the grace of failing forward.
Luck becomes decidedly less important when you are born lucky enough to benefit from the affirmative action of generational wealth.
It’s the folks who are bouncing for a second or third time on their family’s safety net, enjoying a debt-free existence thanks to an absence of student loans, or are climbing the corporate ladder in their mother’s company who most often besmirch others for their lack of success and often attribute it to a lack of hard work or limited intelligence.
I suspect that sometimes, these people are so ensconced by the affirmative action of generational wealth that they don’t see and can’t begin to imagine the struggles of others.
But other times — perhaps more often — I think it’s too painful for these folks to admit that their success was not entirely theirs. They so desperately want to tell a bootstrap story, but in the absence of one, they turn a blind eye to their good fortune and claim it anyway, pretending that the benefits and advantages provided by their parents were non-existent or irrelevant.
Donald Trump has repeatedly claimed that he received a $1 million loan from his father to launch his real estate business when records indicate he received at least $413 million from his father’s company.
This is truly a man who has fallen forward repeatedly, bankrupting business after business but still landing on his feet.
A $413 million next egg, combined with fraud, extracting wealth from fake charities, and refusing to pay employees and contractors will do that for a person.
But I think for every Donald Trump, many more Americans benefit from the affirmative action of a more modest but no less important amount of generational wealth who refuse to acknowledge their good fortune and denigrate others for not working hard enough or smart enough.
Michelle Obama was correct:
“Most of us will never be afforded the grace of failing forward. We will never benefit from the affirmative action of generational wealth.”
But perhaps we afford those folks — most people — the grace of understanding, empathy, consideration, and maybe even legislation to allow them to enjoy the opportunity of a second or third chance when needed.
Maybe even a first chance to do something great.
October 1, 2024
Resolution update: September 2024
1. Don’t die.
I was sure that I had pneumonia, but after a chest X-ray, a COVID test, and a flu test, it turns out that I only have a plain old virus.
Still alive despite still being sick.
2. Lose 10 pounds.
After a wedding weekend in San Fransisco, a bunch of days without exercise, and about four bags of cough drops, I managed to gain four pounds.
Hopefully, this is temporary, and when I finally shake this cold, the added pounds will fall off.
3. Do a targeted push-up workout at least four times per week.
I didn’t exercise for the last six days of September because of illness. Otherwise done.
4. Complete 100 sit-ups four times per week.
I didn’t exercise for the last six days of September because of illness. Otherwise done.
5. Complete three one-minute planks four times a week.
I didn’t exercise for the last six days of September because of illness. Otherwise done.
6. Cycle for at least five days every week.
I didn’t exercise for the last six days of September because of illness.
I’ve recorded 268 rides in 274 days in 2024.
7. Meet or beat the USGA’s average golfing handicap for men of 14.2.
My current handicap is 25.4, down from 25.7 last month. Still a high number but improving.
But I’ve come to realize something important via research:
The average male golfer’s handicap isn’t really 14.2 because most golfers don’t maintain a handicap, and those who do tend to be a minority of better, more serious golfers who are active members at country clubs.
I’ve set a goal that may be unrealistic.
WRITING CAREER8. Complete my eighth novel.
I continue to work on the book based on the editor’s feedback. I am making excellent progress. It was supposed to be done at the end of August, but I am not quite finished.
Very close, though.
9. Write my next Storyworthy book.
My next book will not be a storytelling book. My agent and I have decided upon a novel instead.
That said, I have another storytelling book written in first-draft form, and I’m wrapping it up. It won’t go to the publisher anytime soon, but it’ll be done.
10. Write, edit, and revise my golf memoir.
Work has begun on adding to and revising. As golf season ends in a month — or two or three — this book will keep me company through the winter months.
11. Write my “Advice for Kids” book.
Excellent progress made. I’ve combined three lists written over five years into one organized list—a very productive flight from San Fransisco to Dallas—and have begun fleshing out each piece of advice.
2. Write/complete at least three new picture books, including one with a female, non-white protagonist.
I’m writing children’s books about Connecticut’s infamous October 2011 snowstorm, the gypsy moth invasion of New England in 1981, and the lullaby “Rock a By Baby.”
Rough drafts of all are complete. I’ve read one of them to my class for feedback. I’ll be finalizing them in the final months of 2024.
I have three other ideas I’m beginning to work on, too.
13. Write about my childhood in partnership with my sister, Kelli, at least twice per month.
Kelli and I spent a day together in February but forgot to discuss this topic. Seven months later, we still need to discuss.
14. Launch a Substack.
Substack forthcoming. I’m in discussions with folks about how to monetize best, and I’m enrolled in a course on managing Substacks effectively.
15. Write a new solo show.
All the work on this project is done in my head since I’ve never written down anything I say onstage, so I don’t have much to show for my efforts, but I am working hard nonetheless.
I’ve accumulated all of the stories I plan to tell as a part of the show, and I may have them ordered properly, too.
16. Write a musical.
No progress.
17. Submit at least three Op-Ed pieces to The New York Times for consideration.
Done!
One story was submitted in September. Three so far in 2024. All rejected.
I also submitted all three to the Washington Post. Also rejected.
18. Write at least four letters to my father.
One letter written in 2024 so far.
19. Write 150 letters.
Done!
I wrote 16 letters in September. The recipients included students, former students, the parents of students, two friends, my child’s principal, and a restaurant.
I’ve written a total of 152 letters in 2024.
20. Write to at least six authors about a book I love.
No letters were written in September.
I’ve written letters to authors Andrew Wilkinson and Joe Rocco so far.
STORYTELLING/SPEAKING CAREER
21. Perform a new solo show.
Initially, I planned on performing at TheaterWorks in Hartford in November, but complications with their scheduling have pushed that back to April 2025.
22. Complete the re-recording of Storyworthy For Business.
Recording complete! I need to do some voice-over when my voice returns, and then I’m done!
23. Record and produce at least two new Storyworthy courses.
I produced and sold another webinar in September, bringing the total to four in 2024.
We’ll also carve up the new Storyworthy for Business course into smaller, separate courses, extending this goal considerably.
24. Produce a total of six Speak Up storytelling events in 2024.
No shows were produced in September. A Voices of Hope show was rescheduled for the spring of 2025.
Five shows have been produced so far in 2024. They include:
“Matt and Jeni Are Unprepared” on March 2 at TheaterWorks in Hartford.“Sportsing” on March 16 at the Connecticut Museum of Culture and History“School” on May 3 at Sedgwick Middle School in West Hartford, CTSpeak Up – CPA Prison Arts show on June 5 at The Pond House in West Hartford, CTGreat Hartford Story Slam on July 27 at Hartford Flavor CompanyWe also have the following show scheduled for 2024:
October 5: “Stories Sell” book party at the Connecticut Museum of Culture and HistoryNovember 8: “Matt and Jeni Are Unprepared” at the Playhouse on Park in West Hartford, CT25. Submit pitches to at least three upcoming TEDx events, hoping to be accepted by one.
No progress.
I spoke at TEDxBU on April 20. It went very well, and the recording should be online soon.
26. Attend at least eight Moth events with the intention of telling a story.
Done! I attended one Moth StorySLAM in September in NYC.
A total of 12 Moth events so far in 2024.
27. Win at least one Moth StorySLAM.
Done. I won:
Boston StorySLAM on June 25Boston StorySLAM on February 27NYC StorySLAM on July 17I’ve won three of five StorySLAMs so far this year.
28. Win a Moth GrandSLAM.
I competed in the Moth GrandSLAM in Boston in March and placed second.
I should’ve won, but I think that a lot.
I’ll perform in a GrandSLAM in NYC and Washington, DC, later this year.
29. Pitch “You’re a Monster, Matthew Dicks” to at least a dozen theaters and/or directors in 2024.
I’ve pitched “You’re a Monster, Matthew Dicks” to two theaters so far in 2024.
I performed the show on March 30 at the Mopco Improv Theater in Schenectady, New York. It went quite well.
30. Produce at least 24 episodes of our podcast Speak Up Storytelling.
No progress.
31. Perform stand-up at least six times.
I’ve performed stand-up twice in 2024 — both shows in Ottowa, Canada.
32. Pitch three stories to This American Life.
One story has been pitched thus far.
33. Submit at least three pitches to Marc Maron’s WTF podcast.
No progress.
34. Send a newsletter to readers at least 50 times.
Eleven newsletters were written in September. I also failed to count a weekly newsletter I write to Storyworthy VIP members, so I can add another nine to my total, bringing the total in 2024 to 44.
HOME35. Organize the basement.
I’ve made huge progress. I’ve sorted through over a dozen bins, donated many things, and discarded many things. Elysha has helped this process massively by agreeing to immediately sort through any bin I bring up from the basement.
The goal:
Organize all bins in the basement in a logical, identifiable orderEliminate anything no longer wantedStore Elysha’s classroom materials in an organized manner36. Clear the garage of unwanted items.
Elysha’s long-forgotten classroom detritus is the last pile to be eliminated. She has begun bringing the bins to school, and this project is nearly complete.
FAMILY/FRIENDS37. Text or call my brother or sister once per month.
Done. I discovered that, like me, my brother has never been bruised.
It must be genetic. Right?
My sister reportedly bruises when a butterfly bumps into her.
38. Take at least one photo of my children every day.
Done.
39. Take at least one photo with Elysha and me each week.
Done!
40. Plan a reunion of the Heavy Metal Playhouse.
No progress.
41. I will not comment positively or negatively about the physical appearance of any person save my wife and children to reduce the focus on physical appearance in our culture overall.
Done. I told my students about this policy in September, and they support it wholeheartedly.
42. Surprise Elysha at least 12 times.
Two surprises in September:
Dinner was on the table as she returned home on an evening when she planned to make dinner for the family.Upgrade to first-class tickets from Minneapolis to San Fransisco thanks to my many Delta rewards points.Ten surprises in 2024 so far:
Tickets to “Little Shop of Horrors” on BroadwayTickets to “Merrily We Go Along” on BroadwayTickets to “Tommy” on BroadwayCheesecake delivered to Elysha and her teammates during an especially challenging dayA surprise weekend spent in Rhode Island with friendsTickets to “The Outsiders ” on Broadway this monthA well-timed sweet teaA basket full of things Elysha lovesDinner on the tableFirst-class tickets to San Fransisco43. Play poker at least six times.
Done!
I’ve decided to count poker games with Charlie since they are serious affairs with candy at stake.
I played poker four times in September, for a total of seven times in 2024.
I’ve also scheduled a game with friends for this month. Charlie is invited to play, too.
44. Spend at least six days with my best friend of more than 30 years.
Done!
We spent two days together in September—seven so far.
MUSIC45. Memorize the lyrics to at least five favorite songs.
Memorized so far:
“Our Wonderful Lives” by Styx
“Come a Little Bit Closer” by Jay and the Young Americans
“Fox on the Run” by Sweet
46. Practice the flute at least four times per week.
I did not practice in September.
MISCELLANEOUS PROJECTS
47. Read at least 12 books.
I read two books in September, bringing my total to 22 in 2024.
”One the Edge” by Nate Silver
“Green Lights” by Matthew McConaughey
I’m currently reading:
“Of Mice and Men” by John Steinbeck
“The Power Broker” by Robert Caro
“Excellent Advice for Living” by Kevin Kelly
”Mediations” by Marcus Aurelius
”Miracle and Wonder” by Bruce Headlam and Malcolm Gladwell
Books read in 2024 include:
“Upstream” by Chip Heath”Happy Pepple Are Annoying” by Josh Peck”Comedy Comedy Comedy Drama” by Bob Odenkirk“The Power of Regret” by Daniel Pink“Fluke” by Brian Klass“Misfit” by Gary Gulman“How to Weep in Public” by Jacqueline Novak“The Anxious Generation” by Jonathan Haidt“The Demon of Unrest” by Erik Larson”You Like It Darker” by Stephen King”A Short Guide to a Happy Life” by Anna Quindlen”How to Say Goodbye” by Wendy McNaughton”We’re All In This Together” by Tom Papa”Smart Brevity” by Jim VandeHei, Mike Allen, and Roy Schwartz”Hello Molly” by Molly Shannon“The Deerfield Massacre” by John Swanson”Duma Key” by Stephen King”Never Enough” by Andrew Wilkinson“Opposable Thumbs” by Matt Signer“The Splendid and the Vile” by Erik Larson”One the Edge” by Nate Silver“Green Lights” by Matthew McConaughey
48. Finish reading TIME’s 100 Best Children’s Books of All Time.
I did not read any of these books in September. I read plenty of picture books to my students, but no new ones from the list.
I may need to find or purchase some of the books on the list that are not in my school’s library.
I’ve read 36 books from the list thus far.
49. Unify my passwords using a password manager.
Done!
50. Learn to use QuickBooks for my business.
Done! Invoicing, payroll, and taxes are now all managed via QuickBooks. It’s much easier than I thought.
51. Rectify the heating problem in my studio.
I received estimates on this project, which is more than expected.
As a temporary measure, I purchased an electric radiator and plugged it into a Bluetooth outlet to turn the heat on before going downstairs, allowing the room to be warm when I entered.
This solution might be better than the thousands of dollars required to install heat, and it might be my permanent solution, depending on the possibility of finishing other parts of the basement.
My friend Chris may have an idea, too, so I’m holding off on declaring this complete.
52. Learn the names of every employee who works at my school.
I learned the names of five colleagues — four new and one existing — in September.
I’ve also acquired a list of all staff and have begun checking off names.
53. Assemble a complete toolbox.
Done! Completed as a part of the basement cleanup.
54. Edit our wedding footage into a movie of the day.
No progress. I’m actually looking forward to this job, but it will require me to learn how to edit videos using a new program.
Thankfully, I employ someone who knows exactly how to do this.
55. Memorize three new poems.
I memorized James Joyce’s “Tree” and Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken.”
I’m still working on Act V Scene 5, lines 18-28 of Macbeth.
56. Complete my Eagle Scout project.
October 12! Join me at Center Cemetery in Newington, CT. Help me clean headstones and beautify this special place.
57. Post my progress regarding these resolutions on this blog and social media on the first day of every month.
Done.
September 30, 2024
Flat tires
I saw this truck on the streets of San Fransisco this weekend.
Sometimes, I see something like this, and I wish I had the time and gumption to ask questions, understand more, and discover the life behind this truck, this business, and this life.
The world is full of unknown wonders that sadly remain unknown.
September 29, 2024
Tragedy behind glass
Tragedy strikes.
In 1994, I ran for President of Manchester Community College’s Student Council.
It wasn’t the best decision of my life.
I was already managing a McDonald’s restaurant full-time and serving as President of the National Honor Society. I worked part-time in the school’s writing center, helping students with their work, and I was studying like hell to achieve academic excellence.
I eventually was named to USA Today’s Academic All-American Team and became a finalist for the Truman Scholarship, all of which led to full scholarship offers from Yale, Wesleyan, and Trinity.
Moving on to a four-year school might have been impossible without those scholarships, and I knew it. I needed to do exceptionally well in every class without exception.
Despite all of this, I ran for President, mainly because my friend Chris was running for Vice President and asked me to join him on the ticket. Since Presidential and Vice Presidential candidates weren’t running together on a single ticket back then, he thought we might have a chance to win if we approached the election strategically.
I agreed. It sounded like a great plan. Despite having no time, I plastered the campus with posters, shook lots of hands, debated my opponents, and delivered stump speeches.
It didn’t work. I lost by 14 votes to a woman named Jane, who failed to show up for the next semester. Thus, Angela—the VP candidate who had beaten Chris—became the new President.
However, the Treasurer-elect also failed to return the following semester, so Angela asked me to fill the role. She also asked Chris to join the Student Council as an Executive Senator.
Not exactly the president and vice president, but it was enough to get us an office on campus, overnight trips to Washington DC and New York City for leadership summits, and most importantly, our own computers on campus.
In 1994, no one owned a laptop, and smartphones did not exist. The internet was barely operational by today’s standards. Work was completed with pen and paper or at home on massive desktop computers, so having a computer and printer on campus at my disposal, in an office of my very own, was a game changer.
That computer:
An early Apple computer, complete with a floppy drive.
Last weekend, tragedy struck when I saw that computer displayed in the Peabody Museum.
It’s the first time something I once used is now behind glass in a museum.
I’m not happy about this at all.
September 28, 2024
AbeBooks Weird Book Room
The internet is a place of beauty and disaster.
I sometimes wonder if we would be better off without it. As a member of Generation X—the last generation to straddle the analog and digital worlds—I remember the world before the internet well.
I grew up analog. I negotiated on paper maps, made calls on phones affixed to walls, and read physical encyclopedias.
Then, sometime in my twenties, the internet appeared in its nascent form—quirky, clunky, and amusing. It was more of a toy at first, offering silly ideas and ridiculous websites. In many ways, it was more of a toy at first—something new but hardly necessary.
Then, useful tools like email emerged, making our lives easier. Businesses began to stake out digital territory. Card catalogs moved online.
Eventually, the internet became a necessary part of everyone’s life. Then, it moved onto mobile devices, and they, too, became essential to modern life.
It’s a wondrous thing. Much of my work today would be impossible without it.
But it’s also allowed the most monstrous people to find like-minded monsters, affording them a platform to project their hate. It’s turned lies into weapons. It’s degraded truth and created an army of people willing to believe the dumbest things.
I remember those analog days clearly, and they weren’t so bad.
Then I stumble upon this — AbeBooks’ Weird Book Room, “the finest source of everything that’s bizarre, odd, and downright weird in books” — and I’m reminded of the beauty of the internet.
This is an online store for some of the strangest books I’ve ever seen. The titles alone are worth reading, but they are so strange that I might need to purchase them just to see what’s inside.
And if you’re looking for a gift for the person who has everything, might I suggest one of the titles below?
This is a reminder of the internet of yore:
A place where unusual ephemera is gathered to delight and amuse an audience.
We need more of this.
September 27, 2024
Childhood bedrooms
In recent decades, it’s become increasingly common for kids growing up in the United States to have their own room and not share a room with a sibling. This is the result of a couple of trends, including bigger houses and fewer kids per family.
As a result, the average number of bedrooms per child in the U.S. — according to census data — increased from 0.7 to 1.1 from 1960 to 2000.
That said, there isn’t much evidence that either setup—independent rooms or bunking with a sibling—has any particularly positive or negative long-term impacts.
But what I’m wondering is this:
What’s up with the 1.1 bedrooms per child?
Why does the average American child have more than one bedroom?
Are these just guest bedrooms being counted as children’s bedrooms?
I hope so.
What kind of parent gives their child two bedrooms in their home?
For much of my childhood, my siblings and I shared two bedrooms. Two boys—later three when my mother remarried and we added a stepbrother—shared one room. My sister, and later a stepsister, shared another.
But when I turned 14, I moved into an unheated room in the basement — a paneled box in the middle of a cold, often wet concrete space. It was dark, chilly, dank, and my own.
My mother repeatedly denied me permission to move into the basement, citing the temperature and general awfulness of the room, so I waited for a weekend when they were away and moved downstairs anyway.
Once you’ve established a beachhead, you’re hard to dislodge.
It took my parents two days to even realize I was now living in the basement, and when they did, they decided not to protest.
Eventually, this basement bedroom became especially helpful when things went south with my stepfather, and I began entering and exiting the home via the hatchway—the bulkhead in my childhood parlance — and avoiding the upstairs altogether.
Yes, I had to pile blankets atop me to stay warm in the winter, and the furnace and water heater made quite the racket at night, but the apace was my own, and I suspect my brothers were happy to be rid of me.
So yes, I was one of those kids who had his own room—at least for a few years—but it was hardly palatial.
It probably prepared me well for the cruddy little apartments and homelessness that was to come before I managed to get myself on solid footing.
Had I occupied 1.1 bedrooms during my childhood, the shift to my considerably reduced accommodations would’ve been quite a shock to the system.
September 26, 2024
Thinking beyond the recipe
When I met my wife, I could cook a few things. Chief among them was Kraft Macaroni and Cheese with hotdogs, which my wife found delicious.
Having been raised on more healthy fare, this processed monstrosity was a welcomed change from whole grains and terrible vegetables.
I could also grill a burger and make most breakfast foods, but that was the extent of my cooking skills.
Then the pandemic hit, and to avoid the grocery store as much as possible, we ordered meal kits from Hello Fresh, complete with easy-to-follow recipe guides. By the end of the year, I could cook dozens, if not hundreds, of new dishes.
I also learned valuable skills like mincing, dicing, grating, testing, searing, and broiling.
Give me a recipe, and I could do it all.
But I was lost when I didn’t have a Hello Fresh meal kit. With a refrigerator full of food, I didn’t know what to make. So one day, I asked my wife how to throw things together like she did to produce something delicious. She opened the refrigerator and pantry and taught me how to think beyond the recipe card.
It took some time, but today, I can look at our ingredients in stock and almost always prepare something yummy. I’m not nearly the cook that Elysha is, but I can hold my own and feed my family with relative ease.
Sometimes, you need an expert to show you the way.
This is why I’ve decided to launch Storytworthy’s first Mastermind. As we prepare to launch the new, expanded, and much-improved version of my Storyworthy for Business course, I began thinking:
This course is outstanding for people willing to learn independently — watch videos, experiment, practice, and improve at their own pace.
But what about those who want or need an expert—someone who does the job well and knows how to teach exceedingly well—to guide them along the way?
What about those storytellers and would-be storytellers who need a Troy?
That is why I am launching the first semester of the Storyworthy Mastermind — an opportunity for a dozen people to spend six months learning to tell stories alongside someone who does it well and knows how to teach it well — me.
By joining my Storyworthy Mastermind, you will receive more than 20 hours of group and individual instruction, weekly video and email updates and lessons, an invitation to a community of like-minded people to help you along the way, my brand-new Storyworthy for Business course (which will serve as our curriculum), and a one-year membership into Storyworthy’s VIP program, giving you access to every course I have and will produce.
If you’re looking for a more guided approach to learning to tell stories — complete with individualized instruction and constant feedback — this Mastermind may be for you.
Registration opens soon.
Click here to join the waiting list, be one of the first to learn about the Mastermind in detail, and have the opportunity to join.
Teachers on a time clock
It’s come to my attention that one proposal in our current teacher contract negotiations requires teachers to arrive at school 30 minutes before the school day and remain at school an hour after the school day has ended.
Happily, I don’t know where this idea originated, so I am attacking its stupidity and cruelty rather than the specific person responsible for it.
The person responsible for this idea may feel attacked if they ever read this, but I can’t help that. If you have a stupid idea, that is your fault.
First, and perhaps most important:
Most teachers arrive 30 minutes before the school day begins and remain at school an hour after the final bell rings.
For transparency, I arrive at school about an hour before the school day begins but only remain in the building for 15-30 minutes after the final bell has rung. But I have been teaching for 26 years — the last 16 at the same grade level — so things have become easier over time. When I first started teaching, I would arrive at school at 5:00 AM — alongside my principal at the time — and leave around 5:00 PM.
But I was inexperienced and dumb back then. I needed every minute I could get.
But I’m also married to a teacher who arrives an hour before the school day begins and usually remains at work more than an hour after the day has ended. She also frequently works on weekends to prepare for the coming week, goes to school on Sundays to ensure her lessons are ready, and routinely spends unpaid summer vacation days in her classroom, preparing for the coming year.
And herein lies the stupidity of this proposal:
It ignores the endless number of hours that teachers already spend working outside the school day.
They correct papers after dinner, plan lessons after their own children have gone to bed, go to school on the weekends to prepare materials, search online for new ideas into the wee hours of the night, and work in the summer on their classrooms and plans. They call parents and respond to emails in the evening, on the weekends, and everything in between.
These are the last people who should be nicked and dimed regarding their time.
All they do is give their time.
I don’t know a single teacher who doesn’t work outside the school day.
I don’t know a single teacher who doesn’t surrender summer days to prepare their classrooms since school districts never allow adequate time to complete this task.
The average teacher spends enormous amounts of time outside of the school day already.
Administrators know this. If they don’t, they need to open their office doors and take a look around.
These are people who also routinely spend their own money on their students and classrooms. These professionals often turn to online resources like Teachers Pay Teachers for quality curriculum and practice problems when the curriculum provided by the school district fails them. They purchase pencils and notebooks for students, posters and fabric to make their classroom more bright and inviting, and even furniture and storage units when needed. I know teachers who spend their Saturday mornings scouring garage sales for books to add to their classroom libraries because almost every classroom library that has ever existed has been paid for by teachers or acquired via donations.
If anything, administrators and school boards should be ashamed of themselves for failing to adequately support teachers. Every dollar a teacher spends on their students and classrooms — and nearly every teacher I know (including the teacher I live with) does this — should serve as a source of embarrassment to school districts and a clarion call that basic needs are not being met.
These are people who routinely prioritize their students over themselves and their own children, sending dollars back into the school instead of pouring them into retirement accounts, vacation spending, and college funds for their children.
They do all this, and then some fool says that these angels of humanity must stick around after school for an hour every day.
Lawyers, doctors, accountants, branding specialists, FBI agents, salespeople, CEOs, web designers, rabbis, marketers, politicians, and nonprofit leaders—all people I work with regularly—are not required to spend their own money on the needs of their customers or clients.
They do not spend their own money on their workspaces.
Teachers do this every day.
None of these professionals punch a virtual time clock or are required to remain inside a building when their work can be completed whenever and wherever they want.
I know this because I work with these people every day.
If teachers began adhering to their actual contract — only working at the designated time for the required number of hours — and ceasing to spend their own money on their classrooms, the punch to the gut to the school system would be astounding.
Students would feel it immediately. Parents, too.
If the work that teachers do outside their contracted hours evaporated overnight, children would suffer mightily. Education would degrade rapidly. Test scores would fall precipitously.
But this would never happen, and administrators and politicians know this. Teachers care too much about their students to allow it to happen. It’s this level of concern, commitment, and authentic, genuine love teachers feel for their students that allows terrible people to routinely take advantage of educators, knowing that whatever demands are placed upon them will likely be accepted because children’s futures are at stake.
I know a teacher who was crying in school this week—not because she was upset about a work issue — but because her back hurt so much that she was brought to tears.
Why was she at school?
She loves her students.
I returned from hernia surgery two weeks early and spent those two weeks in pain, mostly rolling around in a swivel chair while I taught. I’ve returned to school early from pneumonia twice despite my doctor’s protestations to stay home and rest.
Why? I love my kids.
I know a teacher who has put off surgery to alleviate great pain and deal with a serious health issue for months to avoid being absent from their students, even when they had more than enough sick days to accommodate the absences.
I know teachers suffering from COVID who continued to teach remotely during the pandemic despite high fevers and other serious symptoms.
Why? They were worried about their students, trapped at home, missing a lesson or a wellness check.
Most teachers have dozens—if not hundreds—of contractually allotted sick days banked that they will never use and never be paid for. Similarly, most never use their contractually allotted personal days.
I currently have 204 sick days in the bank. I’ve used about a dozen of the 54 personal days allotted to me over my career.
Why?
When I’m not feeling well or am injured, I try like hell to go to school.
I try to schedule doctors and dentist appointments after work or in the summer.
Most, if not all, teachers do the same.
If every teacher in my school district began taking every contractually allotted, legally allowed sick and personal day every year, the district would collapse.
Teacher shortages would be overwhelming.
Students would suffer.
There are likely tens of thousands of unused sick days in my school district — unused because teachers love their kids and want to be in school.
But now, someone thinks it’s a good idea to nickel and dime teachers on work hours when we exceed our contractually required work hours every damn week?
Are they blind?
We live in a world where inflation has exceeded 14% over the past three years, and the average American’s average wage growth has matched or exceeded that number.
The average American wage has increased by 13.5% over the past three years.
Yet school districts routinely offer annual salary increases of 1 or 2%.
The United Autoworkers Union—which works in an industry the government recently bailed out—won a 23% pay increase in 2023.
They do important work — building cars and trucks.
But teachers do pretty important work, too. They educate children, teach future UAW members, and prepare UAW leaders to negotiate for better pay.
Nevertheless, teachers are asked to accept minuscule pay increases, which means that, relative to inflation, they have taken at least a 12% pay cut every year for the past four years.
In the shadow of this absolute economic reality, the asinine stupidity of trying to extend a teacher’s required school day while failing to compensate them enough to simply match inflation is shortsighted, cruel, and stupid.
The proposal will likely never pass. Teachers would never agree to such nonsense. But the damage has already been done. The message is clear:
You may already be working outside of your contracted work hours—before school, after school, and in the summer—but we don’t care. We want to lock you down and dictate where and when you work at all times.
You may be piling up sick and personal days because it’s more important for you to be with your students, but we don’t care. We want you correcting those papers and preparing those lessons at your desk, damn it.
You may be doing all this while your salary increases lag behind the national average by at least ten percent and during highly inflationary times, but we also don’t care. We want to put you on a time clock.
We want to treat you like students — dictating where and when you’ll complete your work.
In short, we don’t see you as professionals.
That is the dumbest part of the proposal. It reminds teachers they are undervalued and underappreciated and not seen as professionals. It tells teachers that all the sacrifices they make for students and their schools—both with their time and wallets—are irrelevant in the eyes of administrators.
It’s a proposal that damages morale. It makes teachers question their choice of career, and it makes future teachers hesitant about entering the profession.
It’s shortsighted, stupid, and lacks any semblance of decency.
I can’t begin to imagine what the person proposing this was thinking.
My hope: They weren’t thinking.
My worry: They were thinking clearly, and this proposal reflects their perceptions of the educators.
Either way, the damage has been done.
September 25, 2024
Trickle down economics was a joke gone very wrong
Trickle-down economics was first embraced by Ronald Reagan in 1980. It refers to economic policies that disproportionately favor the upper tier of the economic spectrum, comprised of wealthy individuals and large corporations. The policies are based on the idea that spending by this group will “trickle down” to those less fortunate in the form of stronger economic growth.
While some politicians still espouse this theory, it has been an abject failure. Economic inequality has surged since 1980. Wealthy households have seen historic rises in their income, while middle-class families have been left behind.
The evidence could not be clearer, yet the belief persists today, primarily as a rationale for politicians to reduce the levels of taxation on wealthy people, even if it continues to exacerbate economic inequality and strain the social fabric of our country.
Here’s the crazy part:
Satirist and humorist Will Rogers invented the term “trickle-down” economics as a joke, stating clearly that this type of economy would make the rich richer and the poor poorer.
In a 1932 column criticizing Herbert Hoover’s policies and approach to The Great Depression, Rogers wrote:
“This election was lost four and six years ago, not this year. They [Republicans] didn’t start thinking of the old common fellow till just as they started out on the election tour. The money was all appropriated for the top in the hopes that it would trickle down to the needy. Mr. Hoover was an engineer. He knew that water trickles down. Put it uphill and let it go and it will reach the driest little spot. But he didn’t know that money trickled up. Give it to the people at the bottom and the people at the top will have it before night, anyhow. But it will at least have passed through the poor fellow’s hands. They saved the big banks, but the little ones went up the flue.”
A satirist wrote a joke about an ineffective, stupid policy, and 48 years later, a Presidential hopeful latched into the name, despite its origin, and made it the cornerstone of his election campaign and Presidency.
The result?
Exactly what Will Rogers predicted.
The little ones went up the flue.
September 24, 2024
No more guitar solos
The last rock song to reach #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart was Nickelback’s “How You Remind Me.”
It was released in August 2001 and peaked at #1 on December 21, 2001.
Since then, there hasn’t been a rock song to reach #1.
Coldplay’s “Viva La Vida” reached #1 in 2008 but isn’t classified as a rock song and doesn’t sound like one.
The fact that Nickleback was the last rock band to reach #1 is a real punch in the face for rock fans. No shade on Nickleback, but the last standard bearer of rock music—at least to date—is often criticized for being objectively boring and lacking genuine substance. It’s panned for reflecting elements of more successful bands while being overly commercial and inauthentic.
A million Nickleback jokes have been told, and a million more will likely be told, yet the band is the last to reach the top of the charts with a rock song.
Bah.
This isn’t to say that rock music is dead. Many rock bands are performing today, and many are hitting the charts, but none are even close to reaching #1.
It makes no sense to me.
While I love many kinds of music and like many of the songs hitting #1 today, I adore the beauty, simplicity, and clarity of a guitar, a bass, a drum, and a lead singer.
The less production that goes into a song, the better.
Apparently, not everyone agrees with me anymore.
