Red Lobster or Bloom's Taxonomy?

At 5:00 p.m. crowd at the Red Lobster was steady. We were led to a table right away, but those who came in even five minutes later were held at the chairs that lined both sides of the entry hall. Our waitress, Wendy, was polite through the usual introductory routine: short welcome, drink order, deliver drinks, and then the main order. She was assigned three or four tables around us with two to six people at each. The restaurant was already busy, but Wendy buzzed with grace and easy humor from tables to serving area to bar to kitchen and back to the tables.

It reminded me of the dance of successful teaching. I had not thought of it before, but there's a lot of similarity between teaching and food service. I am finishing up a two-year new teacher training program at the college, graduating from newbie instructor to not-so newbie instructor -- we still have a lot to learn. During these two years there has been a lot of discussion about student-centered learning, but surprisingly little about customer service, which is really the same thing. I wonder if a regular stint on Friday nights at the Red Lobster might have been more productive than Friday mornings reviewing Bloom's Taxonomy for the fourth time. What, I wondered, could my classmates and I have learned from Wendy and Red Lobster?

We would learn how to work as team members to provide a service and product to a diverse and rapidly changing clientele.

We would learn how to keep smiling when the customer wants the dish of butter replaced -- again and again. The customer is always right, and when they are not, they still are. Keep the melted butter hot.

We would learn how to deftly pick up crayons tossed down by younger guests while still balancing three water glasses on a serving tray. Safety, service, and a smile at the same time.

We would learn how to keep orders separate, how to tally a bill, and how to try to up-sell products. Sales is as much a part of teaching as are assessments.

And, we would learn how to send guests on their way, how to quickly reset the table and how to greet the new incoming customers as if they were our first of the night, while at the same time, performing a physically demanding job that requires balance, strength, coordination, knowledge, and stamina.

By the time my wife and I left the Red Lobster, we had a doggy bag (or is it a lobsty bag?) of goodies for the next day, and admiration for our server who, at the end of the meal, seemed more like a long-time friend than a minimum wage worker surviving on tips. Wendy enhanced our experience, which, after all, was nothing more special than a quick Friday night meal at a franchise restaurant. We were one table among dozens she would work during the night, but she turned the ordinary experience into the extra-ordinary. That is the mark of a true service professional, food service or post-secondary education. I think Wendy should be giving lessons in customer service to new trainees at corporate, not bussing tables at a local eatery. I'm sure if she was given the chance she would do it with a smile and gracefully refill the water glasses at the same time.

You may be number 1001

Sometime this weekend, this blog, West by Northwest, will pass the 1,000 view mark. Will that be followed by Publisher's Clearinghouse prizes, neon animal balloons, phone calls from Spielberg seeking to buy the rights? I won't hold my breath. Even though the mark is a nice round number, it's probably less than Justin Bieber's doorman would pull before breakfast if he ever published a blog.

Yet, I am pleased by the mark. It has been a personal achievement to keep a semi-regular writing schedule over the past 15 months. At first, I wasn't sure how I would come up with ideas on what was supposed to be sort of related to my first years as a full-time faculty member at NWTC. Forty published posts later, ideas haven't been a problem. I add ideas to a smartphone note pad and am about a dozen blogs behind where I could be. What to write has never been a problem. When to write and how to write is another story.

I know my writing tends to be a little too formal, not nearly as fluid as some writers I admire. "Open up, expose yourself, be daring," advised my UW-O writing professor who thought my writing sounded like the narrative of a routine school board meeting. I'm not sure my style has changed much other than I no longer worry about style ever since I passed that class. I've never been comfortable exposing myself in writing and don't expect to start now. That would seem artificial to me and, somehow, dishonest. I try very hard not to be dishonest in my writing.

What has been important is that I am working at the keyboard on an almost weekly basis on subjects that interest me at the moment. I think it was western novelist, Louis L'Amour, who said, "The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on." The art of writing requires the discipline of craft first. Inspiration is a luxury that working journalists don't have time for, and I guess I still see myself as a working journalist more than any other kind of writer. I use this blog like a reporter's notebook to explore a world that is endlessly interesting. If I am able to tell a good story or make an interesting point which makes the events seem a little more clear to my readers, I am happy with the result. I hope they are too.

Why are we math illiterate and proud of it?

The math instructor was a little hot: "Why are people so proud that they don't know math?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, always a little hesitant talking with math instructors about math instruction. I need to teach math to GED and Program Prep students, but am very aware that it is not my strong suit.

So, while I do understand the math-phobic, I also thought that the math instructor had a good point. She pointed out by contrast if people cannot read (another basic skill I teach), they don't brag about it to family and friends. Most of the time, they hide their illiteracy, embarrassed. But math illiteracy doesn't have the same societal shame. If people cannot tell a linear equation from a quart of machine oil, they brag about it to friends and family, "Look at me everyone: I'm a math idiot, and, I don't care." That braggadocio not only underplays the importance of math in society (try to think of an activity that doesn't use math), but, more worrisome, also sends a destructive excuse to children: "Don't worry about your math classes. It doesn't matter. My daddy told me so."

Yet it does matter. A great deal. When a student walks into the Basic Ed Open Lab, what subject do we have to remediate more often than any other? Not surprisingly, it is math. Without the basics in whole numbers (ie., multiplication tables), other work in decimals, fractions, ratios and percentages are beyond student's ability, much less work in intermediate algebra, geometry, trigonometry, measurement formulas, data statistics, accounting, and calculus. And, without a base in high school-level math, technical college course work in business, medicine, trades, and even police science is unrealistic. The much publicized and sought after STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math) curriculum begins, continues, and ends, with math.

Yet, the math instructor said that she often hears parents wallow in their ignorance. They tell her with a laugh that they are so math-illiterate that they can't help their middle school student with math problems. "This is unacceptable," the math instructor said, shaking her head. How can you be a functioning person and find yourself stymied by "2x + 2 = 8"? 

I have to agree with her. This pride in math illiteracy doesn't add up: FYI x=3.

Shaking things up once in a while

Every organization needs a good shake-up now and then. The creaky moorings that once held an organization firmly to its purpose need to be occasionally loosened or tossed off entirely. This is healthy and natural. Sometimes the shake-up is initiated by outside forces, but sometimes the organization itself has the sense to cast free of the past and trust to the future.

The Catholic Church seems to have shaken itself this past week. Time will tell if Pope Francis will be the change agent as was John XXIII or John Paul II, but initial reports show this pontiff is a right angle turn from the past papal prerogative. Early conclave reports from the Wall Street Journal, among other news sources, indicate that during a short four-minute speech that apparently clinched his election, Bergoglio warned the conclave cardinals against becoming a "self-referential" church, one that is so closed in on its internal problems that it has forgotten its true purpose: humility, dignity, and justice.

Please forgive the unusual, unsecular nature of this particular blog, but 12-years of inside perspective as a Catholic journalist are hard to shake. I do see in the Catholic Church a parallel challenge that faces any large, established organization. Projects that were once shiny, innovative, and daring are inevitably calcified by the salt spray of years. No amount of vigorous polishing can replace a sheen once time dulls the central idea. Those organizations that are in most danger, are those that are unwilling or unable to adapt to changes in the world. Change is hard for an individual set in his or her ways; it takes biblical labor to change a large organization.

When challenged, it is too easy for an organization to turn in upon itself, to become defensive, to become "self-referential" as Bergoglio said, justifying its existence by meaningless, time-consuming, self-serving, bureaucratic ritual. This can happen to a business who forgets to serve its customers, to a school who forgets to teach its students, to a non-profit who forgets its advocacy, and to a church who forgets its core mission. The core of the Catholic Church is not the Curia in Rome, nor the College of Cardinals, nor even the diocesan chanceries across the world. Its core is Gospel of the Good News. If Catholic Church seeks to regain relevance in the modern world, it will have to proclaim its Good News in the streets and neighborhoods of its local parishes.

I think Pope Francis understands that. I wonder if he will be able to persuade others.

Habemus Spring Break

Blue sky days with temperatures finally in the 40s, coaxes me out for a run and makes me feel that spring may be just a few weeks away. Last year, in contrast to this year's severe diet of 19-degree nights, snow-covered lawns and icy-slick sidewalks, the high and low for the day was 74 and 36. It's not even 74 in my house right now.

But, such are the Wisconsin extremes during March Spring Break when classes are excused for the week, though the college offices do remain open. I remember when I worked as a member of the support staff, I looked forward to the week as a little extra time to get some work done without the interruptions of a typical school day. "This would be nice place to work," we would say, "if not for the instructors."

Instructors and students have various strategies for the mid-semester week off. Some schedule vacations with family or friends. Spring Break hijinks are not nearly as common as you might guess. Most students don't have the extra money, or freedom, to make a gulf coast break. When instructors travel, we are more likely to go to grandmother's house than to the Grand Caymans.

Instead, students spend the time getting extra hours at work, or logging in time with family who now look vaguely familiar. The semester is half over, and the second half is usually packed with the larger papers and projects. Instructors, especially new instructors who have been just keeping their heads above water, use the week to catch up on grading, lesson plans, emails, and the ever-present team projects. Sleep is also a treasure.

This past week, I've spent a lot of home time, attended a Literacy Green Bay benefit, completed a painting project that has been long promised, attended a couple school meetings, cleared out emails, and even spent the afternoon yesterday receiving a plenary indulgence for watching the announcement of the new pope from Rome and receiving his televised blessing. Lord knows, I need as many indulgences as I can gather.  The break is a time to take deep breath and get reading for the final eight week push: "Habemus the Rest of the School Year."

The Dash that Makes the Difference

Perhaps it's an overly long winter, or the doom of an impending birthday divisible by ten, but my thoughts lately have turned toward mortality, toward my "dash". This is an idea suggested by Linda Ellis in her poem and subsequent book, The Dash: "It's not the date you were born, or the date that you died, that really matters. It's the dash between those years and what you do with it to make a difference with you life."

For some reason, when I think of Ellis's "dash", I think of a small graveyard near Boston Commons shaded by trees as old as the commonwealth. Just beyond an iron fence that borders the sidewalk and busy street stands an upright, weather-worn grave with a collection of mourner's stones placed on it. The writing on a plaque screwed to the stone reads: "Here lies Buried Samuel Adams, Signer of the Declaration of Independence, Governor of the Commonwealth, A Leader of Men and an Ardent Patriot. 1722-1803."

That downtown Boston graveyard is filled with tombs of other founders of the country, yet even significant, brave lives are finally commemorated in just a few words, numbers, and a horizontal dash chiseled between birth and death. All of their studies, their speeches, their writings, their dreams and despair -- all of it equally summarized in a short incised line worn smooth by passing years.

Our challenge, it seems to me, is to carve our dash as deeply as we can. Some do this by raising families who will continue their name through generations. Teachers continue on through their students. Creative types draw, build, mold, and write. Others make their mark through career or community effort. Some, like Samuel Adams, may even leave a historical mark on world prompting generations to leave a stone on their grave as a gesture of respect. Deep down we understand our mortality, but we strive to leave behind something deeper than a shallow indent in the space of time.

A Successful Teacher Needs a Short Memory

Top ten lists of top ten teacher attributes are usually predictable. We should be technologically savvy. We should be student focused, positive in the classroom, creative with lesson plans, immediate in email response. We should be detailed of planning (but not too much), spontaneous (but not too much), brave, clean, and reverend (oh, the last three were from the Boy Scout handbook, but they seemed appropriate, though predictable). You could pop this list into a hermetically-sealed silver envelope and use the contents in a mind-reading game during an ice-breaker at an education conference.

But, I came across an attribute recently in a Twitter feed that would not have been found in that envelope. The idea came from an October article titled "What You Owe Your Students." What do you owe them? A short memory, according to Terry Heick, director of currriculum at the Internet site, TeachThought. That idea intrigued me and, on second consideration, seemed quite accurate. Why does a teacher need short term memory? There are many reasons.

You need short term memory so you can proactively encourage a student who an hour earlier could be heard complaining about your teaching to a classmate just outside your office door. Teaching focuses on the student, not on your pride.

You need short term memory so students always surprise you, even if you are delivering the same exercise with the same answers to the fourth class that week. The content is new to the students, though you may have been planning it since last summer.

You need short term memory so you can focus on the class in front of you, not on the unfulfilled requests for supplies, texts, training, or assistance that are stored in the sent folder on your email account.

You need short term memory so as you turn to a new worksheet, assignment, project, paper, or PowerPoint, you judge the material on its own merit and do not compare it to work that you have just downgraded or praised from their classmates.

You need a short term memory so each semester you come back to the classroom refreshed, reinvigorated, ready to successfully teach verb tenses to this new class. This semester, the students will love to work on grammar exercises.

You need a short term memory so you can do the work your truly love, in the inspirational power of the moment, with the students and staff you truly enjoy working with. If it wasn't for a short memory, the rest of the attributes wouldn't really matter, would they?