So long, superstition

This past weekend, I was part of a ski trip to Panorama, which is a highlight of the school year for many students (apart from taking my physics class :-). But it had the most inauspicious start.

The plan was to have the students gather near the gyms at 12 noon on Thursday, and there we would search their bags for questionable items. After this, we would quickly load the bags onto the 5 buses and we would be off the B.C. to enjoy two days of powder runs, moguls, and hot tubs to massage the aching muscles. It all looked good on paper.

But unbeknownst to us, the company who organizes our trip mistakenly ordered the buses for the following day, and at the last minute, we were informed that there were no buses available. The company scrambled to get us some fit transportation and to their credit, they did find some – but they would not get to the school until 6:30 p.m.

This left us with two problems. First, we would not be arriving at the ski hill until at least 1:30 a.m., which meant that we would not likely be sleeping until 3:30 a.m. I am a big fan of my beauty sleep, so this hit me pretty hard. Second, we had nearly 300 students at the school, and we had to inform them that the bus would not be arriving for another 6 hours! It was extremely uncomfortable in the gym, explaining our situation and telling them that they had a whole lot of time on their hands. To the students’ credit, they did not have a mass panic but took it all in stride (although the same could not be said about some of their parents, who were demanding refunds and the heads of those in charge).

We did set forth around 6:30 p.m. and the students had regained their excitement, showing the wonderful resilience of youth. But as we came near Red Deer, we came upon a huge traffic jam. It turned out that there was a serious accident, likely involving a fatality, and so the highway was completely shut down in that area. We had to wait in line for at least 45 minutes, delaying our trip even further, and we had to be rerouted onto smaller roads that paralleled the freeway. The kids certainly were well within their rights to stage a mass rebellion, take over the bus, and wreak havoc across the Red Deer community. But again, they were relative angels. They didn’t even grumble or mutter about the misfortunes they were experiencing. Inspirational.

If one was a superstitious person, one would conclude that this trip was doomed from the start. But this would have been a serious mistake. Because after these two major incidents, the trip was truly charmed. The rest of the drive to the hill was relatively uneventful, the weather at the hill was idyllic, and the snow conditions at the top of the hill were wonderful. I had the best time while I was there, right down to the quality of my showers and the quality of my home-made meals. The trip was energizing and relaxing, and I returned from it feeling very positive about life.

So take this as a warning, doomsayers and superstitious people out there. Bad omens do not inevitably lead to disaster. I could easily have grumbled and whined my way through the entire experience, which would certainly have led to a self-fulilling prophecy, but I chose not to do so. I made the most of every moment, cherishing my interactions with other staff, being awestruck by the majesty of the Rockies, and enjoying the sublime pleasure of skiing well done.

I have thrown away all of my rabbits’ feet, horseshoes, lucky charms, and astrology charts, and I have replaced them with an insistently positive outlook on life. Good luck is a good attitude.

I’m honoured?

This past week, a student walked into my classroom. This is not unusual, in itself, since I am a teacher after all and I make it a policy to keep my door open to any and all students who need my attention.

But this particular moment proved to be a situation that does not happen to me every day. It was one of my strongest students, and if I was to be completely honest, one of my favourite students of all time. He came in with his typical All-American (or, in this case, All-Canadian) smile and he wanted to thank me again for an excellent semester. I then reciprocated, telling him that it was a true pleasure teaching him. With this handshake of compliments done, a student would usually walk away and we would both be feeling satisfied with the exchange.

But he stayed … for quite a while … which told me that there was aomething else that was on his mind. I started racking my brain for what it could be, and all kinds of possibilities came up. The strongest contender in my mind was that he needed a favour. But what? I had already written him a highly complimentary reference letter. What else could there be? It actually began feeling a bit awkward.

When the student gathered his courage, he told me that he wanted to nominate me for a top teacher award. I was glad I was sitting down because this was entirely unexpected. In fact, my respomse was nothing more than verbal gobbledegook, so flustered was I by this. When my grammar and enunciation returned to passable levels, I managed to tell him that I was flattered but that it was unnecessary. (One reason for this hesitancy was because I knew some previous winners and they were less than exemplary, to put it mildly. Putting my name beside theirs did not appeal to me in the slightest.)

Yet he was insistent. He told me that it was about time that I was recognized for my superb teaching. That almost brought tears to my eyes, and so I really had no choice but to accept. It was a great moment for me.

Life has a cruel sense of humour, though. On the very same day that this visit took place, two of my physics classes took a high-level AP midterm. I had been preparing them for this for the entire semester, doing a better job than I ever have before, and I had some pretty high expectations. In fact, this test was my biggest focus for this teaching year. Well, marking it was a punch in my gut. The kids bombed it, not doing any better than the previous year despite all of the extra effort I put into it. It was devastating and left me reeling.

So, how am I to reconcile these two situations? In one student’s eyes, I am the greatest teacher he has ever had and I am worthy of the highest teaching accolades. But according to two other classes, I may as well not be teaching them at all, so little was my impact. Which teacher am I?

Such is the paradox of the real world, to know that I am simultaneously ineffectual and powerful, brilliant and hopeless. Hey, if light can be both a particle and a wave, then I can also be a composite of complete opposites.

So, I will celebrate my triumph with a glad heart, knowing that I was able to have such a powerful and lasting impact on a few students. But I will also keep working at it, striving to do better and better, because I will never be perfect and I will inevitably fail some students. What else can I hope than to reduce the number of failures to a minimum, for this will be to me a maximum success.

Double the excitement

If I have learned anything about myself, I am a bit of a solitary guy. I did quite a bit of team sports when I was in school, but over time, these sports were extricated from my life one by one until I was left with individual sports. I walk and run on my own, I work out on my own (for the most part), and I definitely cycle on my own, both on the road and on the trails.

Yet, I am still not restricted to solitary athletic pursuits. I still do enjoy sports that involve other people, and at the moment, that would be table tennis. Ahhh, table tennis. A game of spin doctors with fast reflexes. I have placed a table in my classroom, since exams are going on right now and all the desks are needed in the gyms, and it has become the hub for ping pong enthusiasts, both young and old. Many of them play me, and I love the thrill of pitting myself up against another person, learning their strengths and weaknesses, and doing everything I can to emerge triumphant. I love being in total control of the outcome, both as winner and loser.

But I have discovered, to my surprise, that my enjoyment of the game can be even higher when more people are playing. I was introduced to doubles in table tennis, something I have never tried ever before, and let me tell you, it was an instant hit. Two people are on either end of the table, and after serving diagonally, the players have to alternate hitting the ball on each side. Yes, you heard me right. When one person hits the ball, he has to get out of the area as fast as possible so that the partner can get in there to hit the next one, but he must also be ready to get back in there for the subsequent rally. It is like a dance, but a highly competitive one.

When I am a singles player, I love being successful and I strive to do so on every point. But interestingly, when playing doubles, it is far less about the win and more about the process, about the rallies themselves. The quality of play is certainly not at the level one would expect from a singles match, but it does not matter at all. We celebrate each player’s success, even if they are on the other team, and we laugh uproariously when one of the players makes a mistake. And let’s be honest here, we all make those mistakes, so the only rational response is to laugh at each mistake without reproach, without judgement. It is truly a Socialist endeavour, a beautiful Canadian political game.

We did not want the games to end. We knew we had work to do, but it mattered not. We knew that something special was happening and we had to prolong as much as possible.

Double the players, double the joy. Can’t wait to play again tomorrow.

Marshall Phil

At the end of every semester, I give a bit of my life story to my Grade 12 students to help them make good choices later in their lives. In this speech, I always tell my students that I love every aspect of teaching: making lessons, delivering the lessons, making assessments, and marking the assessments. You name it and I like it.

But this platitude was put the test today. It is the time of final exams, and to streamline the process, we get students to go to the bookroom and return their textbooks, and in so doing, they get a paper token that tells the invigilators that all is well with each student. But we can’t have the students just wandering down the stairs and overwhelming the poor ladies who are working down there. So, the administration created a new responsibility for teachers, and they even gave it a fancy title – exam marshall.

The marshall’s job is quite simple. When the students are coming down the stairs, the marshall has to announce in a clear voice that the students need to have their students IDs ready. Then, when they get to the doorway, it is the marshall’s job to direct each student to any available bookroom employee. Easy, right?

And it certainly was easy at first. But after 20 or 30 repetitions, it began to grow rather tiresome. I had to say Student ID so often that I was getting sick and tired of my own voice. It is a wonder that I did not eventually descend to the monotonic oration of the teacher in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off – anyone, anyone, … boredom. I found myself conjuring  up new and improved ways to accomplish the same goal. Posters on the wall with pictures  that illustrate our goal for the students, a music player that broadcasted the same message over and over again (leading to a most useful hypnotic, obedient state), and possibly some kind of rope cordoning off the area, a rope that they have to stoop to get under, requiring them to brush their heads into the banners hanging from the rope that have a message all in capital letters: HAVE YOUR STUDENT ID READY!!!

Then, to be a human turnstile was total humiliation. I would stand there with my arm across the doorway, the human equivalent of a gate that bars an access road, and truly, my mind was numbed to such an extent that I probably shared the same IQ as the gate itself. I would not talk at all, since I had already used up my voice crying out the same ID message over and over again, but instead, I would simply point my arm in the direction of the newly opened bookstore booth and the student would walk to where I directed. Finally, I would return my arm to bar their way. It was the most robotic thing I have ever had to do as a teacher.

I had to do this awful chore for a full hour, and while that might not seem to be too long in duration, believe me, it was agony. I even made the mistake of checking my watch partway through, thinking that I was almost finished – but then realizing that I wasn’t even halfway yet. I almost swore, but fortunately, I remembered that I was in a school and that would have been unadvisable.

After marshalling, I have come to appreciate the other aspects of my teaching profession to an even higher level. So, I suppose there is a positive side. But this pales when I consider the fact that I will be doing the same thing tomorrow. How will be able to marshall enough strength and will to endure?

Start up cubed

I am fascinated by start-up stories. When I watch a movie about Wozniaki and Steve Jobs, showing how they started from humble beginnings and through ingenuity, perseverance, and belief, they were able to create something amazing, I am transfixed. They went through many hardships, some even so severe as to lead to Jobs being fired, but there was no stopping him. And as a result, they revolutionized the world and created a new culture, a new mindset, a new tradition. We have never been the same since.

Our family has experienced this on a much smaller, but still significant, scale. My son enjoys solving the Rubik’s cube in the shortest time possible, and this fascination led him to find others who had the same inclination. Before long, a Rubik’s cube club was born, and at the start, it was a humble enterprise. They got together at the mall and solved a huge variety of cubes, to the entertainment and amazement of many passers-by.

But within a year, they began to think bigger and wanted to organize competitions. So, renting out a community centre, they gathered the best that Edmonton had to offer and offered prizes to those who could solve the cube the fastest. This was all well and good, but their ambitions grew even higher. After making a few connections with real officials of the contest, the founding members of this club managed to hold their first official tournament, with people coming from all over Alberta and B.C. to compete. The event was such a success that it continued in subsequent years, and now, it will be held at Telus World of Science and it will field an amazing 100+ contestants.

All of this started with the passion of a few, and it led to something huge. And who knows where this might end? Could this draw people from around the country? from the States? from the world? It might seem far-fetched, but then again, I am sure that Jobs and Woz felt the same way when they first started working from their garage.

I am proud of them, regardless of how things turn out over the next few years. Creating something out of nothing is magical and so very worthy.

A tale of two lessons

It was the best of lessons, it was the worst of lessons.

This weekend, I have willingly subjected myself to teaching a Diploma preparation course for Physics 30. Don’t judge me too harshly. My stationary bike is about to go on the fritz, and I will need to replace it with a brand new, shiny torture machine. Money doesn’t grow on trees, but it does feed on student fears of not doing well on their provincial exams. So, I will ease their fears while they fill my wallet – a fair trade.

Recently I devised a brand new way to do these review sessions, a method that would have the students far more active in class. But with a new method comes great risk – namely, timing. How long would my new technique take? Would I have enough time to finish the entire curriculum in the sub-16 hour period?

The first evening shouted an emphatic yes. The new method was working like a charm. The students were working away like busy bees, and they were taking about as long as I anticipated. I was smooth and relaxed in my delivery, and when it was all said and done, the kids seemed very pleased with what they experienced. I felt on top of the world. I felt in total control.

Ahh, how the mighty fall!

The second day was a completely different story. It started out quite well, but when I got the halfway point of my session, I discovered to my horror that I was 30 minutes behind schedule! How could this be? How could I have been this far off? I had a minor panic attack on the spot, convinced that I would never be able to finish the content and that the students would never be properly prepared for their exam. Where was that paper bag to breathe into? Where was a year’s supply of Xanax?

Fortunately, I had a great assistant helping me out. Her true job was to wander around the room and help students who were struggling with the problems. But little did she know that she would have to fulfil the role of psychoanalyst and cheerleader. She wasn’t getting paid enough. But with her support, and the good thoughts of friends and family, I was able to bounce back in true elastic fashion and I managed to finish the day pretty close to the schedule I had given myself. It wasn’t easy, though. I was constantly planning how I could cut corners and save time for the entire session, and this left me absolutely exhausted at the end. Quite a difference from my first day’s triumph.

Now that I can sit in my Ikea chair and reflect on the two days, I can be proud of myself. Yes, I did fall apart a bit when things went rough, but I did not give up. I persevered for the sake of the students and I did all I could to make sure that the kids got the best learning experience possible, while also ensuring that I would be able to finish my lesson on time. It was a masterful execution of thinking on my feet, so good job me. 🙂

I am doing the third and last day of this review today and I am feeling cautiously optimistic. This morning I went back to my lesson and modified it as much as I could, without sacrificing the content, so that I would not go through a repeat of yesterday’s challenges. And really, this has been my life as a teacher: I attempt something new, I then reflect on its successes and failures, and I then modify accordingly in this pursuit of the ideal lesson. And really, this is a microcosm of life itself, isn’t it? We are always striving to improve and to maximize our experiences. We may never get to perfection, but there is joy in the journey. That is a tale worth living.

Fool proof?

What distinguishes me from other teachers is my propensity for making resources. I spend much of time creating new workbooks, new reviews, and new lessons, and I spend the rest of the time trying these resources out, reflecting on them, and then modifying them accordingly. It is what I do. Consequently, I have amassed a huge number of files on the computer. It is in my best interest to keep these files in some semblance of order, and so I have constructed a very efficient, very clear organization scheme.

One of my biggest fears is to lose one of these files, because each file represents hours and hours of work, if not days and years of exhausting labour. And it would be far too easy to misplace one of these files, because not only are there so many that they are hard to keep track of individually, but also because I am always making modifications to them. In my mad pursuit of the perfect set of resources, I tenaciously upgrade them until they reach some sort of standard that I have concocted in my mind. But because they are in a constant state of flux, the chances of one file being erroneously deleted become quite high.

So, whenever I change a file in any way, I make sure to copy this new file to my memory stick, and later, when I am back at school, I promptly copy this to the school computer and network so that I have a backed up copy. I have been doing this process for years, and in all that time, I have had no major problems. I think I might have become a bit cocky lately, because this so-called fool proof system was breached, much to my distress.

This past week, I have been creating a new climate workbook for my AP Science 10 class. I have devoted many mornings to it, as well as much of my exam break time while at the school. Today, I thought I was done, and as a celebration, I thought I would create a midtest for the students (I know, I am such a party animal!). As I was making the questions, I suddenly noticed that the content made a big quantum leap and I began to feel that something was missing. After some inspection, sure enough I came to realize that an entire section of the workbook had completely disappeared. I felt a cold sweat beading on my brow, I had goosebumps between my raised nape hairs, and I was slightly hyperventilating as I came to realize that somehow, somewhere, some time, I had managed to delete an entire section from this precious construction.

To my credit, I did not go ballistic with this realization. I stood up and did a bit of pacing around my room. I took a few deep breaths, closed my eyes, and remembered that I was still sane and had full use of an otherwise healthy body, and so there was no reason to complain. I was in the middle of exam break, which meant that I had time to correct this egregious oversight. I promptly relaxed and got back to it, and within a couple of hours, my workbook was restored and all was well in the world once again.

I still have no idea what happened. My routine for data transfer was down to a science, and I never deviated from the procedure. After pondering this conundrum since then, I have concluded that I must have become lax in my process and allowed myself to do the data transfer with only part of my mind. Maybe I was multitasking, maybe I was conversing with a colleague, I might even have been singing with a song that was playing in the background, but regardless of the situation, I let down my guard and I must have copied an older, less complete file over a newer file and lost my progress in an instant.

What can be learned from such a situation? Should I berate myself for being so lax and make a solemn vow, calling on all the heavens and the angels as witnesses, proclaiming with all sincerity that I will never allow my concentration to slip when I am in the process of doing data transfer? How could I guarantee that this little slip would never happen again? I am not always in perfect control of my actions and thoughts, and really, it is impossible for me to perfectly bar such mental inactivity during important procedures like this.

No, all I can do is view this from a purely philosophical and reasonable. I am going to make mistakes in this life, likely more than most people do. This does not make me less of a person, for if the maxim “to err is human” is accurate, then I am very, very human. I will try to learn from it, I will ensure that I am doing the process to the best of my ability, but that is all I can ask of myself. I will not lose sleep over this ineptitude tonight. In fact, I will sleep like a baby. Some may call me a fool for what I allowed to happen, but in my mind, the only foolish thing I could do right now is to allow this to bring me down.

Thus are my happiness and contentment made fool proof.

Re-Cycle

They were crazy to let me do it in the first place.

Eight years ago, we purchased a Life Cycle from Fitness Depot because it was considered the top upright stationary bike in the market. But when we did so, the store asked if we would be interested in purchasing a 10 year warranty for about $600. Now for the average joe, this would seem an extraordinary amount of money for peace of mind, and he would be right … for an average joe. But I am not in the least bit average when it comes to stationary bikes. I ride them hard, and I ride them often. Case in point: the previous bike I owned, which was a Schwinn, lasted only 2 years.

So, trying to contain my disbelief at my good fortune, I promptly agreed and quickly signed the forms before they could change their mind. Since then, the bike has been repaired at least 5 times, and the cost of servicing has certainly exceeded the extended warranty. It has been a good deal for us. Best $600 we have ever spent.

But alas, the poor beast is suffering again, and when the technician tried to order parts for it, it turned out that the bike is now obsolete and no parts can be had. This is so typical of this age of upgrades and improvements – it is nearly impossible to maintain anything for longer than 5 years. So, it looks like we will soon need to get a new bike. (Oh, and if you were worried, the store is willing to reimburse us for the last 2 years of the warranty.)

I was initially excited about the prospect of getting a new bike, because I thought I had it all figured out. I would not get an electronic bike,  but rather, I would get a spin bike, since they are much more sturdy and they are well within my ability to fix, since they have similar construction to an ordinary bike. I planned to get one of the best, and then with my maintenance know-how, it would basically last forever. Fool proof plan.

But as is often the case, reality did not match my plans. The bikes were far more expensive that I thought possible, since they did not have computers to operate them, and the best one was not even available in the local stores (and there is no way I am buying such a big ticket item through Amazon, since I would definitely have to test ride the thing first before I committed). And when I looked at them more closely, I (and my wife) saw a couple more problems. The seat was like a road bike seat, and there is no doubt that my butt would be in agony after an hour of riding on it. It is different on a road bike, because the body has the ability to move more freely and the constant shifting of positions makes it a less painful experience. Also, the handlebars have no space to place an iPhone or an iPad, and that is a definite deal breaker for someone like me, since I am riding in excess of two hours on that metal beast.

So, ironically, after all of the mental dust settled, my wife and I decided that it would be best for me and my family to stick with electronic stationary bikes with the big seats. I have come full circle and returned back to the bike I thought I would never ride again. Now, I wonder if they will offer the 10 year extended warranty to me again.

Lost is found

So many people are into the new thing: the latest gadget, the biggest celebrity, and the current trend. But I am leery about this attitude. There is far too much risk involved in placing my hopes and dreams into an untested commodity, and there is no way I would be swayed by something as fickle as popular opinion. I am much more swayed by time tested models, things that have endured the test of time and have emerged unscathed and fully appreciated: 26 inch mountain bike tires, desktop computers with Windows 7 (and XP, if I was still allowed to use it), backpacks, and Ikea Poang chairs.

This attitude definitely extends to TV shows that I want to see. Oh sure, I am all too happy to watch the latest episodes of Modern Family and Big Bang Theory (but then again, these have been around for many seasons and they have not lost their lustre). But lately, my wife and I have been considering watching a brand new series. We have been disappointed with many of the new series coming out, shows like Flash, and when the series was looking really good, it was soon cancelled (I am thinking about you, Almost Human). We have become disillusioned with the newest and the latest, and so we have found ourselves looking back.

But not just to any past series – something great that lasted many seasons and had a great following even after all that time. So, what I am really looking for is another Breaking Bad experience. Ah, Breaking Bad. I had heard about it for years, not really knowing what it was about, and everybody kept on saying how amazing it was. I was sure that it was a “one hit wonder” at the start, being my pessimistic self, but the rave reviews kept coming in. In fact, it was ranked as the 2nd best series of all time by the list we checked out on the internet (the only series that beat it was Friends, and who can argue with that?).

The show was only offered by NetFlix, and we didn’t have access to that, so I forgot about it and left it on the shelf of lost dreams. But lo and behold, one of my colleagues got it from one of my assistant principals, and after watching it, he allowed me to watch it next. Well, watch it I did. I was fully engrossed, and I pretty much watched nothing but Breaking Bad for the next couple of months. I was absolutely blown away by the quality of the plot and the character development. That was incredible entertainment, and I felt blessed to be living in a time when such a series was being produced for the public.

Could it be possible that I could find another series like that? Something like Firefly? I miss you, Firefly!

Well, further down the list was another series called Lost. It was done by J.J. Abrams, who just made the first instalment of the new Star Wars series and is about to blow Avatar’s records for box office sales. Again, I had heard about it from many colleagues, and I have read it about in many magazines. It had action, mystery, science fiction, and great characters – or so everyone said. I have always wanted to watch it, but I was too late – I never learned about it until the second season, and in my mind, it was a write-off. I could not watch something that had already started, and I did not have access to the first season.

But this is no longer the case. Due to the wonders of the internet, I now have access to the full series and after begging my wife to indulge me on this TV fantasy, we have delved into Lost … and we have emerged Lost junkies. The first two episodes were excellent and we are hooked. I cannot wait to watch the next one, and I am comforted by the knowledge that there are 6 seasons to binge on. Joy has been found by getting Lost.

Rest by working

There are many time-tested ways to find relaxation in this busy world. Fly to a resort and spend time resting on the beach, where the only exercise you do is to raise your arm to flag down a waiter and have your mai tai topped up. Go to a spa and get a manicure, a pedicure, a mud bath, and finish with a full body massage, which is always a happy ending. But the title of this blog seems like the kind of self-abusive rationalization that only a hopeless workaholic could conjure up.

Now I may be a workaholic, but hear me out. There is some reason in this madness.

Apparently, teaching full time is not enough work for me and many years ago, I decided to add to my travails (and to my bank account) the opportunity to reteach the curriculum and get students ready for the Physics provincial (or Diploma) exam. Truthfully, I figured that I would do it once or twice, really to help out a friend of mine, but here I am six or seven years later, going strong and it doesn’t look like the end is near – well, maybe the end of my excitement or passion, but not the end of the job.

And I guess that was my motivation for making a big change this year. I decided to change my strategy for how I taught these students, since I was noticing that the kids were not sticking around to take advantage of the activity times I left them. They would rather go for a walk to a local restaurant or business and chit chat with their friends while grabbing a bite to eat. I can’t say I blame them, since they have already gone through 4 months of school and they are sick and tired of the physics curriculum. But as a teacher, I know that as good as this might be for their mental state, as refreshing as these excursions are for the psyche, they are not really getting their money’s worth from the experience – or more accurately, their parents’ money’s worth. I needed to come up with a way that got them more active, more involved in the relearning process, so that by the end of the weekend, they would feel much better prepared for the upcoming Diploma Exam.

So, I restructured my entire course, building in more time for them to try Diploma questions on their own. But, because the course is so different, I am not sure if I will be able to cover it all in the time that has been allotted to me. It is a well known fact that when the teacher does more talking and doing, it is a much more efficient process and the content can be covered that much faster. But it is also well known that when the student is taken out of the process, they don’t get much out of it. For the past couple of years, I have had a sneaking suspicion that the students were only getting a mediocre experience, and I have far too much pride for that to remain. I am willing to do whatever it takes to make my course the best it possibly can be.

I spent a good month or so making the changes, doing much of the work in the early morning hours before the family awakens, and honestly, that would have been enough of a sacrifice for any motivated teacher. But not for me. I was worried that by allowing the students to do more work during the session, I would not be able to finish the course in time. I would be rushed, and if there is anything I know about myself, it is that the quality of my teaching has an inverse relationship to the level of stress I am feeling. If I am feeling the time crunch, I begin to sweat and the words that had once flowed like honey from my lips begin to stop and start and stumble like I was just learning the language.

So, to reduce the stress and to ease my mind, allowing me to relax more during these weeks before the main event, I decided to return to the lessons I made and to time them out as accurately as I could. I would go through the slides one by one, and I would estimate how much time each would take. I would then factor in the students’ work time, as well as any breaks, and when I total the minutes, I would be able to verify beyond a shadow of a doubt whether my technique would work or not.

Yes, this would add hours to my already loaded work schedule, but strangely, this does not stress me in the least. I am a hard worker and I have no fear of adding to my workload, if it is for a worthy cause. And in this case, the cause is my own peace of mind and sanity. By adding a few hours of work to my day, I have added years to my life. This is good math.