Last week I attended Twitter Math Camp (yes, that’s a real thing). In my conversations with other attendees, we frequently ended up talking about how intimidating it felt being in the company of the other TMCers. This was a passionate and committed group of professionals sharing their best stuff. It was easy to be in awe of some of the presentations. This feeling of awe caused some people to experience angst.
This blog post from Mr. Kent really got people talking. If you haven’t read it yet, head on over there and check it out. I’ll wait. It’s way shorter than this post. Among other things, he says,
To be surrounded by this many people that are this far above me in every area of teaching, learning, growing, intellect, honesty, humor, and kindness, hit me like a stake through my heart. I truly feel as I am nothing compared to those I met here.
I respect how he was feeling. I had moments where I had similar thoughts myself. I’m writing this post to try to make him feel better, at the risk of offending other attendees. I suspect he’s a good teacher.
In addressing this post on her own blog, Kate Nowak says,
I’d just like to say, everybody chill the &^%$ out. We are all good at some things and suck at other things. One thing we all share is the recognition that we all have work to do, and that we can all get better, and that focusing on that is worth our time.
In the comments on Mr. Kent’s blog, Jen weighs in strongly with,
The truth is, many of the teachers at TMC14 have also admitted feeling inferior (look through this morning’s #tmc14 thread). It’s hard not to when so many great ideas are being shared – but remember, these people are there sharing a few great ideas, they can’t all be that awesome all of the time. What makes it harder still is the celebrity reception some of the veterans get from those newer to the mtbos. That’s not reality, and I wish it would stop.
I want to take her last comment a step farther. We need to get over ourselves, as a group. Underlying feelings like Mr. Kent’s, at least when I have them, is the assumption that everyone ELSE at TMC is a superstar. I suspect most of the attendees felt that way at one point or another. Is it possible that all TMC attendees are superstars? We (the attendees) sure act like it is.
I readily accept that the teachers who attend TMC are:
- committed – They do it on their time and 69% pay their own way.
- passionate – They talk about math teaching almost all the time inside and outside the conference. Informal sessions went on in the hotel after the conference was supposed to be over each day
- learners – These are people who want to get better.
Indulge me as I present a golf analogy, if you will.
The local sports radio station is organizing a golf trip to Mexico. The people who go on trips like that are committed (they do it on their time and they pay their own way), passionate (they love that silly game enough to go to all the way to Mexico, which is a long way from Edmonton) and I assume they want to improve their game. I have never been on a trip like that, but I’m fairly confident that some of those committed and passionate players stink at golf.
I’m 22 years into this education game. I’ve worked with hundreds of teachers. In the past five years consulting, I’ve been in dozens of classrooms and observed the teachers working in them. I am fairly confident that most of our teachers are good. I have a theory based purely on observation and my gut that says there are a small percentage of superstar teachers and a small percentage of teachers who really struggle. I sometimes put numbers on those small percentages that range from 2 to 10%, depending on who I’m talking to. I do picture a bell curve with a smallish standard deviation. I have absolutely no scientific data to back up my hypothesis. Personally, there are days when I feel like I’m a little bit to the right of the mean and days when I feel like I’m a little bit to the left of the mean. I rarely feel like I’m off in the far ends on either side. I’m good with that.
I don’t know why TMC attendees would be any different in pure teaching ability than any other set of 150 educators.
At TMC, committed and passionate educators share the best of what they do. Of course it looks good. They don’t share the lessons that tanked (Well, I did, but maybe I’m the only one that ever happens to. See, that self-doubt keeps popping up.). They don’t share the practices they tried that failed. They share their successes.
Let’s go back to that golf trip for a minute. Even the terrible golfers who go to Mexico probably have some elements of the game that they are good at. Maybe one of them knows a good tip for improving putting. Another knows how to correct a slice. Each of them could probably find a thing or two to share that benefits other players. Those things alone, though, aren’t enough for any of our terrible golfers to join the pro tour and make millions. Only a small percentage of golfers are that good.
There are superstar teachers at TMC, certainly. But not exclusively. There are a whole lot of good teachers sharing the best of what they do. Even the best ones there would tell you honestly that they have things to learn. They don’t go to TMC to be in the spotlight. They go to learn, and that’s what it’s about. It’s not about comparing our skills. It’s about growing together.
John, now that I’m trying to explore this bizarre community again, I’m really enjoying your posts. Thanks for making it easier for me to do this again.
I agree that it shouldn’t be about comparing skills, and that it should be about growing together. But the “inadequacy” post has resonated with enough people that I think it’s fair to say that for some portion of our community it is about comparing our skills with other teachers, at least partially.
Question: How did our community end up with a competitive edge? Other than speaking up against this competitiveness, what can be done to correct it?
I think my favorite line from Ilana Horn’s writing is “Disagree with ideas, not people.” Maybe we need to create arenas where ideas can be teased away from their owners, to create more equitable conversations.
I don’t think it’s fair to say that ppl have a “competitive edge” from what I’ve read, or what I’ve seen.
Many teachers who engage with the MTBoS or go to TMC are dedicated and passionate and a bit obsessive about math teaching, in the best kind of way. They’re explicitly looking for ways to be a better teacher. And I’d bet that for many people in these worlds are internal drive to want to do our best work (not compared to others to be “better” — which is what I see as competitive — but because we want to excel in our craft, for ourselves, for our students).
Well when you come to TMC or engage with teachers online, you start to realize that there are so many things you can do to improve/change, things you wouldn’t have known if you were in your own school bubble without any exposure to anyone else but your colleagues. And so the bar for excellence — once a bar set by colleagues and your local world — is set higher. Because you see all the other things you could be doing or that you think you should be doing or the other things out there you didn’t even think about!
I’m curious to know if other people feel there is a competitiveness in the MTBoS. If so, competitiveness for what? To be seen as a “better teacher” than X, Y, or Z? I am open to believing it if a few people feel this to be true. I just feel this is not really the heart of the issue opened up by Lisa and Mo and others.
To me “inadequacy” is inevitably a comparison to someone else. You can’t be inadequate for yourself, I don’t think.
That’s all I meant by “competitive edge”: looking at other people and seeing them as better than you at teaching. Maybe “competitive” is the wrong word?
Michael, yes, I now better understand you.
I liken it more to when you go to visit someone’s classroom and observe them teaching. I’ve found that when I’m there and observing, I’m really reflecting on my own practice. “Oh, yeah, that’s something I should be doing” or “whoa, I think that this would have been better…” because we are (unconsciously or consciously) filtering that person through our own lens and philosophy as we watch. We aren’t observing them as much as seeing ourselves outlined in them.
Or maybe that’s just me.
i disagree that feeling inadequate has anything to do with feeling competitive with other math teachers. i think we all, or most of us, get into this field because we care deeply about helping children. every day we get up and work hard and we all know that some days are shitty, but we all like to think that we are doing our best, that we are really doing *right* by the students. it is devastating to think that actually what you thought was good and right might be only middling or, worse, detrimental.
when i see another teacher designing a brilliant activity, i don’t feel jealous of that teacher in the way that i want to better them. instead what i feel is guilt that i haven’t done this for my students. i feel bad that my kids have missed out on what could’ve been this amazing mathematical experience, this deep learning and thinking experience, whatever it is.
i think because we are all reflective educators, we’re all striving to be the best we can be, and therefore we can be really hard on ourselves when we don’t live up to our own standards or the standards we imagine others have for “good math teacher.” so many people feel they are a fraud because we all want to be perceived as good educators, we want to be respected by our peers, and when you’re confronted with this idea that maybe you aren’t doing all you can, your own image of self suffers and you no longer perceive yourself as someone who deserves respect or to be viewed as a good educator.
(i say all this knowing that yes, i am indeed a competitive person and would love to be “the best” at anything and everything, but also knowing that when i get down on myself and my teaching it’s not because i don’t have 1k blog followers and am not “math teacher famous” but because i am genuinely concerned that i’m doing it “wrong” and in that moment feel powerless to fix it)
Reflective is a word I wish I had included in my original post.
Was this the post you were worried about? Because it is awesome. I agree with your bell curve of teaching. I’m not sure if it’s “competitive” that I feel (although it’s a little bit that because I love winning) but more “my students are going to be ruined for life if I don’t ______.” Then I try to remember that I had direct instruction every day of high school and I turned out OK.
Thanks for putting these thoughts out there; it’s an important topic we need to keep up discussion on.
If I’m competitive, it’s with myself – because I know that there are many students who I wasn’t able to help because of large classes, awkward lessons, lack of experience and/or a hook – and I became a teacher because I wanted to TEACH. So if I’m not convinced that I am doing that well enough, I feel inadequate by own standards. And like John says, some days I am above the mean and some days below.
I wasn’t at TMC this year, but based on my experience last year, it is wonderful to bask in the collective talent and enthusiasm – and the key word here is COLLECTIVE. It is difficult – impossible? – to maintain that level of excitement year-round, and as many teachers note, we aren’t always immersed in similar communities in our home schools. But if we can bring some of that energy back with us, and implement a few of the ideas we learned about, we are growing in the direction of better teaching.
(I am loving this conversation – great post.)
Agree we don’t spend as much time at TMC sharing our “failures” but I also know this community are the ones I trust the remainder of the year when I am struggling.
I have a lesson that tanks, I share and they respond with what about…, here’s what I tried… Have you considered…
I have trouble with a particular course, someone suggests a person to follow, etc.
…so in a sense, TMC is the fruit of those struggles we’ve experienced. It melds those online relationships for me.
Thanks for posting.
[…] This blog post from Mr. Kentreally got people talking. If you havent read it yet, head on over there and check it out. Ill wait. Its way shorter than this post. Among other things, he says, To be surrounded by this many people that are this far above me in every area of teaching, learning, growing, intellect, honesty, humor, and kindness, hit me like a stake through my heart. I truly feel as I am nothing compared to those I met here. For the original version including any supplementary images or video, visit https://thescamdog.wordpress.com/2014/07/29/golf-and-tmc/ […]
Drove for 2 hours to the lake. Thought a lot about this post and the subsequent conversation on Twitter.
For clarification, superstar teacher is a vague term whose criteria live solely in my gut. My gut has not bestowed this honour on a ton of teachers.
When Michael was pushing me on the makeup of the TMC community, I really started thinking about if it could be possible that those 150 people are better teachers, on average, than a randomly selected group of teachers. I will concede that it’s possible, only because those 150 chose to attend, rather than being told to attend. When I go to other PD sessions, there are inevitably teachers there who were sent against their will. They disengage or dispute and generally are not affected enough to change. I met no one like that at TMC.
I have two thoughts to add.
First, I’m thinking of Fancy Pants colleges and universities. These schools talk about training the leaders of tomorrow and their innovative education and in general they’d like people to judge their value by the achievements of their students. But what Harvard/Yale/McGill are actually good at is recruiting future high achievers and elites, not at training them.
Second, I’m thinking of the hidden complexity of this “inadequacy” line. Saying “I’m inadequate” is another way of saying “This community is very adequate.” Wrapped up in that self-criticism is a lot of praise for the community. This is what you’re getting at in this post, of course. But the idea that this community isn’t especially skilled at teaching is going to be very disturbing to a lot of people. I’m not sure whether this community is especially talented at teaching, but I’m pretty sure that lots of people strongly believe that it is.
[…] teaching has been thrust upwards. And now I have to work on reaching it. It isn’t that I feel competitive with others, but that I feel competitive with myself [1]. I have a drive to be my personal best, and to do the […]
This is a great post and a deep discussion. I found that I needed some time to re-ground myself upon reentry. Doing so has reminded me how much monkey mind there is — and how much monkey mind we create around whatever we direct our attention to. Success is an illusion. Failure is also an illusion. Most of us experience both of those states plus everything in between on most days. After a while, you being to notice that there is no such thing as a perfect teaching day. There’s also no such thing as a failed teaching day. Most every day has at least One Good Thing in it. Getting caught up in the whole “I Suck More” Olympics is just more monkey mind. The only thing that is real is your own teaching practice. One of the things I love most — and that I find most humbling — about teaching math is how democratic it is. Even if you teach brilliantly for one whole day, you still have to wake up and teach again the next day. There is no permanent state of perfection. It’s a craft and it’s an honor to be doing it with everybody who makes the effort to show up and do it.
As Sarah Rubin says, “Everybody is a genius.” So I tell myself, shut up and teach. Shut up and focus on being a little bit better this year than you were last year. And don’t buy into the hype about yourself. Believing in your own hyped-up image is a toxic worm that will devour you from the inside. Keep your eyes on your goals, get enough sleep, read blogs, hug your doodle, and for God’s sake, share your bananas. Everybody here is enough.
– Elizabeth (@cheesemonkeysf)
Great write up John. I think you’re spot on with the 2-10% ranges. It seems right. There are few folks that excel (or struggle) beyond everyone else. It’s very easy for us to feel “inferior” to other teachers. I partly think this is true because we are constantly defending our teaching, our practice, from administrators and others that are required to judge us and give US a grade. At least partly because of this, teachers have EGOS. Its true. We all do. We have to justify what we do in our classes on a daily basis. Therefore, when we see someone doing something completely awesome that we seemingly never would have thought of, sometimes we take a huge ego hit.
Some teachers are competitive by nature and will do just about anything to outshine someone else. I can almost guarantee they are are the same in every aspect of their lives, not just their teaching. I’m relatively new to the blog game, but from what I’ve gathered, we’re all a bunch of teachers that are all learning from one another. We each have strengths and weaknesses…embrace them all, each one. Find someone that did something better than you and ask them how they came up with it. Then…use that thing! Undoubtedly, that person will do the same one day. Don’t get caught up in who is better than who. Let the ego maniacs worry about that. They’ll always think they’re better anyway.
bp