This scene is all too familiar, too common — so common that it would be “odd” if we *didn’t* see this. And we’ve been seeing it for some time now.

I embrace technology like it’s the softest fluffiest stuffed animal. I need my laptop and cell phone — every goddamn thing is on them. (I still need a real book to read from, however, like this one that just came in the mail because the Internet said I should read it.)

But the restaurant scene is particularly jarring to me because I’ve always valued meal times as sacred, a time to say grace and connect, a time for storytelling, a time for pause and reflection. Dinner time is a time to be social. Ironically, our children are silent at the dinner table because they are on social media with 600 of their best friends. I’ve seen kids with earbuds on too while dining out with the family.

If children are plugged in at dinner time, then I’m going to assume that they are plugged in most of the time at home. This makes me wonder if schools should embrace *less* technology. I witness that we have over-digitalized everything, not because there was a critical consumer-ish need for it, but because we *felt* the weird need to do so. Recently, I tweeted this and meant every character.

At BTSA mentor training, 1 of the prompts was “How do u incorporate tech into a lesson?” My knee-jerk response, “You don’t.” It’s back to that tech for tech’s sake that irks me. It’s like asking, “How do u add aspirin into your diet?” #ButIDoNotHaveAHeadache @ddmeyer

— Fawn Nguyen (@fawnpnguyen) March 10, 2018

We have an incredible privilege to reach our students in the space and time that we have them. I want them talking and interacting more than anything! Learning mathematics is a social endeavor. Here’s my perennial classroom routine, “Turn and talk with your neighbor.” I want to bring back the arts of speaking and listening, reading and writing, debating and presenting. Last week, Jennifer Wilson (you’re missing out if you haven’t heard Jennifer speak in person) wrote about how time is needed to develop MP3 in our students, “It takes time to determine the conditions for truth.”

I’m happy and grateful that technology is here to stay. But I hope we seek opportunities to connect more humanly.

]]>These types of questions are tricky for me to grade, and because there are *eight* numbers in this sequence, the task of grading it **fairly** suddenly becomes thorny and irksome.

Let’s change the question to this:

Put these numbers in order from least to greatest: 5, 7, 2, 3, 1, 4, 6, 8

The correct order is 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 (you’re welcome) — for a possible score of 8 points. How many points would this response earn?

So, only the first two numbers —* 1 *and 2 — are placed correctly. Is the score just 2 out of 8 then? But I want to give some credit to *4* and *5* being next to each other, likewise with *7* and *8*.

I’ve tried to come up with some metrics to score this, and then I would want to apply the same metrics to different sequences to see if any would break my invisible “fairness” barometer. For example, whatever score I came up with for the above sequence, I think the below sequence should get a lower score because the *7* and *8* are farther upstream than they should be.

Anyway, I have some ideas. The above two sets are Sets *A* and *B* below.

I wonder if there’s a way to score an ordered list that half of us math teachers can agree upon. I’d like for my students to think about this too. Meanwhile, here is a spreadsheet with my scores if you’d like to take a look and play along. Just enter your name in row 1 (and link your name to your Twitter, if you want) and the scores you’d assign to these sets.

[02/01/18: @MrHonner had a similar question over 4 years ago: Order These Things From Least to Greatest.)

]]>It has become one of our regular warm-up routines. (We do visual patterns and math talks, too. Duh.) Before I launched the site, I was just referring to this routine with my kiddos as a “tidbit.”

Take tidbit #5, for example. I ask three questions on Google Form, the first two are identical.

Question 1 is asking for a guess, an estimate, a gut check, a what-do-you-think.

Question 2 is the exact same question, except now, students are allowed to search the internet and use their calculator to figure out the answer. However, on a few of these entries — like #2 and #6 — I let kids know ahead of time that they may NOT search the internet but may still use their calculator. The reason is the internet readily provides the answer with a simple search.

Question 3 is always the same.

When about two-thirds of the responses have come in, I then make an announcement that I’m setting a timer for two (or so) more minutes. When the timer goes off, I ask for all students to please submit their form.

I show the class their guesses for Question 1.

In their math journals, we go over the calculations to get to the answer. Then, I reveal their responses to Question 2. (Thank goodness this class had done well on this question. On others, not so great and some downright dismal results, yup, my kids need more practice working with ratios and using the calculator.)

The site has allowed us to:

- Learn some fun facts
- Explore large numbers, imagine the magnitude of these numbers relative to other large numbers
- Work with scientific notation and use the [EE] key on the calculator
- Work with equivalent ratios

We have a friendly competition among the four classes (two 7th-grade classes and two 8th-grade classes). One of the students suggested this scoring scheme, and it’s what we use: 3 points for the class with the highest percentage, 2 points for second place, 1 point for third, and the 0 for the lowest.

Of course, Jules Bonin-Ducharme (@jboninducharme) is responsible for translating all the entries into French! (You just need to hover your mouse over the section links near the top to see the entries in French.)

I hope you can find some time to try this with your kiddos, and I’d love to hear how it goes.

]]>So,

Dear Principal,

Your teachers are working really really hard at this thing called teaching. The role of a teacher is not unlike that of a parent. And if you’re not a parent, then think of being a neurosurgeon or an astrophysicist, being a parent is way harder than that.

It’s practically guaranteed that your teachers have not reached all their students today. But, there is tomorrow and the day after that. Please remember that Teacher

Ain room 23 may not have reached all her students in the academic sense, but she smiled and said hello to Melissa, gave Joey a granola bar and Jake a sharpened pencil, laughed at Amanda’s joke.Your teachers need your implicit trust and continued support to thrive. Show them you have their back and give them feedback frequently, but wrap each feedback in kindness, empathy, and humor. This makes all the difference in whether or not they want to show up for work tomorrow.

Some years ago, I had a principal who asked me the same question more than once, like he forgot or didn’t hear my answer the first time. He asked, “Fawn, how do you motivate kids?” I replied, “I don’t know. If I knew the answer, I’d write a book and make millions and quit teaching.” Now that I think about this, clearly he thought I’d given him the wrong answer, therefore he had to ask me again in hoping that I’d learned something over the course of two weeks.

Before I became a parent, I judged all parents. You’re a horrible parent because your child is a brat and disrespectful. It’s your fault that your spoiled kid is ungrateful and entitled. What a loser of a parent you are that your kid fails half of her classes and makes all sorts of excuses while doing so. You must be a bigger asshole than the little asshole you’re raising.

Then, I gave birth to three kids. At one time or another, honestly, more like an extended period of where’s-the-goddamn-light-at-the-end-of-this-tunnel, my own flesh and blood were disrespectful, ungrateful, entitled, jerks, assholes, whiny, rude, arrogant, mean, neurotic.

But, if you had said any of these things about my kids to my face, I’d probably stab you with a fork. I’m equally defensive as I’m protective. Until you walk in my shoes, you have no right to judge me. I’ve been a teacher longer than I’ve been a parent. One role blended into the other.

When an administrator makes a statement or asks a question to imply that his teachers are not working hard enough, it unravels the trust like pulling on a loose thread of yarn. Sure, there’s ineffective hard work, but it’s hard work nonetheless. Teachers want pretty much anything and everything to help us do a better job, but this advice or suggestion cannot come at a cost of making us feel any smaller and more unappreciated.

So,

]]>Dear Principal,

Please stop being evaluative, start being helpful and send doughnuts.

There are 75 olives, 40% of which are green. I eat some of the green olives until 10% of the olives that remain are green. How many green olives did I eat?

How would you solve this?

I solved it using algebra. Then, immediately, I thought, *Fawnzie, since when do you use algebra to solve stuff like this. C’mon, do your rectangles*.

I think of 40% as 2 of 5 boxes.

So, 75 olives must split into 5 groups of 15, so there are 30 green olives.

Then, I ate some olives to end up with only 10% of the remaining olives are green.

Well, since I didn’t eat any of the 45 black olives, so these 45 must make up 90% of the olives remaining [in the 9 boxes], so 45 must split into 9 groups of 5.

Oh, look! I began with 30 green olives, I now only have 5 green ones left, so I must have eaten 25 of them.

Okay, your turn.

There are 80 olives, 75% of which are green. I eat some of the green olives until 20% of the remaining olives are green. How many green olives did I eat?

Because if I tried to show my kids the work below, or versions thereof, a few might just shit in their pants.

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