Seniors

Enough already. At Dana Hills High School, we try to make our senior's last year a special one. We have gone way to far.

We have Senior Social, Senior Brunch, Senior Dessert, Senior Movie Night, Knotts Berry Farm, Senior Awards, Senior Ditch Day, Senior Send-Offs, Senior Last Will and Testaments, and yesterday, we had the first ever Senior Assembly. Phew. Thank goodness we added an event.

Are you kidding me? Enough of the nonsense.

Maybe 20 years ago graduating from high school was a big deal. Now? Now, saying you have your high school diploma is akin to saying you don't have a college degree. Graduating high school is nice. But we are making this into some grand level of success that few humans ever attain. Oh to taste from the cup that was held by a high school grad. Give me a break.

This generation scares me. It isn't their fault. It is their parents fault. This generation is the "play date" generation. From birth, they have been the center of the family. They grow up being chauffered to every event they want to be at, every practice for every bad soccer team they played for, and every friend's house for "play time". By being the center of the family, these kids believe they always get what they want. Parents are there to do things for them.

I am sick of hearing "My kids are my life." By paying them all the attention, children never have to strive to be great to be noticed. They don't have to do anything great to be called great. They never have to achieve something that screams to the world, "Look at me!!!" Nope. We tell them how wonderful they are every minute of every day. They grow up thinking the world is built for them.

The result? This generation isn't leaving home. They are staying at mommy's house into their 20's and 30's. This generation isn't holding down jobs. This generation isn't as qualified academically. This generation is waiting to be given something instead of going out there and taking it. This generation can't see that hard work pays off and you have to be better than the next guy. (This is the generation that played soccer without keeping score so no one would feel bad. This is the generation in which everyone gets a trophy. Everyone)

I believe in praise when it is deserved. Congratulations on graduating high school. Now go do something. As a society, we need to understand that false praise; praise that comes before excellence, ultimately hurts the kids.

Presents

After I got divorced in like 1990, I bounced around a bit. I taught for a year in Texas, a summer in San Diego, three years in Manhattan Beach and two years up in Northern California at Mountain View. Every time I moved, I moved less "stuff". I have slowly gotten rid of all my chachkies, clutter, knick-nack paddy whack stuff. While I assume most people accumulate "stuff" over their lives, it seems I'm moving in the other direction.

I love it. I love being a minimalist. I don't like a bunch of crap sitting on counters or desks or anywhere. Which brings me to my point. To all of my understandably adoring fans, students, parents, and just people who want to give me things, please don't, then do.

Please don't buy my the coffee mug because I drink coffee. It is really well thought out and I'm honored that you notice I drink coffee a bunch. But I have 14 brand new spillproof Starbucks Travel mugs taking up too much room in my cabinet. Please don't buy me the motivational rock or poster. "The same fire that melts butter, forges steel" Nice. But to my eye? Clutter. I've given them all away. No books. I have every title I want and 100 (literally) waiting to be read.

I know I sound ungrateful. I am not. I'm humbled when anyone gives me anything. I really am. Still, I can't handle the picture frames, wicker baskets, vases and pottery.

So, here is what would make me happy. Really happy.

For about $15 I like the Pentel Sharp Kerry Pencil. .5 or .7 lead. Probably have to find it online.

If you like me more than that, and who could blame you, for about $100 I think i would LOVE the Caran D'Ache Ecridor Pencil.

If I changed your child's life. If I saved the family from destitude and disgrace. If you feel the need to reward me further, don't. Spend you money on your family and friends. Chances are, if you liked me, I liked you. That's enough for me.

76000

I feel like I am walking through life with a big target painted on my back. Everything I hear or read bashes education and teachers. There must have been a memo or edict among radio broadcasters and newspaper “journalists” that instructed them to begin a campaign to paint teachers as overpaid, under-qualified, under-worked, lazy, greedy, union thugs “sucking at the teat of the public trough.” Over and over I hear I’m overpaid. Overpaid?

I’ve listened and read long enough. My response? Kiss my ass.

I started teaching 18 years ago in Tucson, Arizona and I was paid $19,500.00 a year. All of my friends were making more than I was and it wasn’t as though my friends had all come out of Harvard and Yale. My friends were drywall hangers, painters, waitresses and cooks. One of my friends was a part-time parts runner who made $20,000.00 a year. She worked 30 hours a week delivering auto parts from a warehouse to different garages and mechanics around town. I’m educating America and she’s making more money than me driving around in an air-conditioned truck listening to Elton John.

I now live and work in Orange County, CA, makes $76,000.00 a year, and I’m told I’m overpaid. I used to be almost patted on the head and told, “Aww, what a noble profession.” Now I hear how greedy and thuggish I am for being part of a union and trying to make as much money as the office secretary at the Department of Water and Power.

Am I not worth what she makes? Is the mathematics education of your children worth less than a woman who spends a good portion of her day inspecting her nails and saying “He’s not in right now, may I take a message?” Without the information I teach, bridges fail and buildings collapse. National defense, science, commerce, and every other aspect of society is benefited by a population literate in mathematics.

To say that I’m overpaid, implies that there are individuals out there who could, and would, do the job I’m doing for less money. Am I missing something? Are there a bunch of mathematicians sitting around looking for jobs that pay less than 80 grand? Are there a collection of individuals who derive all of the equations for parabolas, ellipses and hyperbolas and have no forum for sharing? Is the knowledge of logarithms so prevalent out there that you could just shake a tree and out will fall someone who can explain them? Is knowledge of high level mathematics, and the ability to show its applications so widely known that I’m easily replaced?

Nope. There isn’t anyone out there that can do what I do. There is a tremendous shortfall of math teachers and many schools have English and History majors trying to teach math. There are simply not enough individuals who can explain why when two chords intersect in a circle the angle formed is equal to one half the sum of the subtended arcs. Just once I’d like someone who says I’m overpaid to try to do what I do. Try to motivate 16 year olds to understand that pi is the number of times that the diameter of a circle will wrap around the circle. Try to explain in an understandable way why derivatives and integrals matter in finding acceleration and area. Try to develop hands on activities so that students can see how a force vector is the sum of its component parts. Hell, just come in and do the easy stuff. Teach the properties of exponents and how they are used in exponential growth and radioactive decay problems.

The people that know and can teach high level mathematics are building bombs at Hughes, designing planes at Boeing, evaluating flight paths at NASA and doing statistical analysis for Proctor and Gamble. They aren’t making $76,000.00 a year. They are making $276,000.00 a year. These are my students. These are the young men and women that I taught and inspired.

I make too much? Kiss my ass.

GRRRRR

I swear I'm trying. I'm trying every day. I've even seen a specialist to help me. But as this year closes and I reflect upon my actions, I'm nowhere near controlling my emotions in the manner I desire.

I'm trying to be a "kinder and gentler" Jake Schwartzberg. I'm trying to think before I speak. I'm trying to talk in softer tones and with less anger.

I could easily make the excuse that the behaviors I see everyday cause me to react with anger and volume. Everyday I am disgusted and disappointed by the way our students talk, dress, ridicule, bully, drink, use, and lie.

My instinct is to respond immediately, loudly, and angrily when I see such ugly behaviors, and I hate when I go down that road. I have got to find a way to respond differently. Barking isn't working.

I just wish sometimes that I had a little help on campus. I know I'm making excuses but for the love of math, we need more campus monitors and more adults in the halls "helping" kids act right.

And, I think every school should have a hammer. The hammer is the assistant principal on campus who handles discipline. Mr Haugh was that guy when I was in school in Tucson. First of all, there was no, "ascending matrix of concequences" that we all use now. There was paddling. Yep. In 1981 I got paddled in principals office for using bad language. I think I called a kid a fucking pussy. But it wasn't just the paddling that had my attention on campus. There was a fear of this guy. He was a scary son of a gun. Ex marine, flattop, big. We were pretty well behaved. I think the fear of Mr. Haugh kept us from doing a bunch of stupid stuff.

I wish we had a guy who the kids were afraid of .

Personalized Plates

I hate you. I hate you for so many reasons, but today, I hate you because of your personalized plates.

Here are some of the plates I've seen around.

SXYBLND No. I saw you. You are not Sexy. I know these things because I am not sexy and I am sexier than you. Therefore, by the "squeeze theorem" in mathematics, you can not be sexy and you cannot have that plate.

MYMINI Thank goodness you have that plate. You never know when you will be parked in a row of fire engine red, convertible Mini Coopers. Phew, this one must be mine. It says my mini. You idiot.

LUANN This plate was on a car driven by a guy. I laughed at first thinking he was driving the girlfriends car. Then the car gave it away. This is a guy's car. It had an oldschool lift, big music, rims. This was his car. This guy named his car. What a loser.

SS GUY We get it. The S's are dollar signs. I bet you were a mortgage banker. I hope you feel pretty good now that you've lost that job. Or, you're just telling everyone you are rich. Moron.

08VETTE I'll give you that the car is smoking. You win. But 08? Cmon, save it for like a 67VETTE. 08?

I hate everyone

The bike

About 4 months ago I decided I needed a bike. Nice old fashioned 10 speed. Yeah. 10 speed. If you haven't bought a bike in the past few years THE GAME HAS CHANGED. In a nutshell, you can only buy 2 bikes; a mountain bike or a street bike. Fatter tires and an upright riding position vs. skinny tires and aerodynamics. I decided I was a street bike guy.

$1000. Oh my gosh. There are no $200 10 speeds. $1000. That gets you the "entry level" street bike. Really nice. Really light. I bought the damn thing and have been riding it about 3 times a week since I got it. I ride through my neighborhood. I found a 45 minute pretty flat loop that I ride. I try to do the thing a bit faster each time and, without patting myself on the back too much, have become a pretty fair biker guy.

Yeah. Right. NOT!!! I decided to ride last Saturday on a pretty popular bike lane along the PCH in San Clemente. Pretty flat. Not much wind. Nice day to ride. Well, I went one complete cycle of the PCH and on my second, I decided to push it. Lungs, thighs, calves,... here we go.

It didn't bother me when the biker flew past me on his $5000 machine in his helmet, shorts, and shirt. It didn't even bother me when the 50 yr old woman raced by me next. Her calves were the size of small tree trunks.

I didn't mind too much when the 2 14 yr olds cruised by me on their 50 yr old Beach Cruisers. They were just pedaling easily, sitting up, no hands.

I began to get concerned when the 400 lb. dude rattled past me on his amazingly sturdy 1972 Schwinn. How the hell does THAT happen? I didn't have time to reflect. The family of 4 passed next. That was it. When that 8 year old went by me I'd had enough. Damn those little streamers coming from her handle bars. Damn that little pink banana seat.

I'm thinking about jogging.

Money

I'm standing 3 deep in line at Starbucks the other day patiently waiting to order my Chai Tea Latte. (No foam, non-fat, extra hot) The guy at the head of the line gives his order (he too had been 3 deep in line at one point). He gives his order, and clearly he had been to a Starbucks before based upon his Half Caff, Double Shot, ring around the rosey, etc.

So when the nice girl at the register tells him "$3.95 please", he seems almost startled that he has to actually pay. He spends about 30 seconds getting his George Costanza wallet out of his too tight pants and then spends another minute digging through the mountain of receipts and coupons until he FINALLY finds a five dollar bill.

Here's a thought you jackwagon. Trying digging though your pocket filing cabinet BEFORE you get to the front of the line. Did you not think you would make it there? Every time you order that drink, EVERY TIME, it has cost the same. How can you not be ready with your money? How can you be so selfish as to not think about moving promptly so others spend less time watching you fumble through your nonsense. GRRRRR. When I was 3 deep in line, MY MONEY WAS IN MY HAND you spazbucket.

I hate everyone