Uncool Vanity

I had the chance today that many teachers do not. Just how many teachers get their haircuts from a mom whose kid they just disciplined the day before, sent to detention even? Not many. But as I walked into Great Clips, I knew already that the possibility of seeing that parent. In that moment, my vanity of having a proper fade won out over any misgivings.

I just read an article about the life of an uncool teacher and it struck me that sometimes this is what I really do. In fact, I've been on display for much of my life. Sometimes it has been a shameless ploy for attention. I remember my days as a junior high student, making bad jokes, grabbing girls' butts, searching for hugs in all the wrong places. Popularity was a must for a 12 year old kid. Even if it meant the occasional grounding from parents or the acceptance and ridicule of teachers, office workers or administration alike. I specifically remember Mr. Bell, my 8th grade science teacher and basketball coach. I was in the office working the charm on the secretaries and in he walks. He realizes I'm waiting out the final hours of my suspension by waiting in the office. Why was I suspended? For fighting. For fighting a classroom kid who we relentlessly teased day in and day out. Wherever Robert Warren is now, I'm sure he's drinking a beer in disgust of us.

So Coach Bell goes into this tirade as I sit there. All I'm thinking is, "Why is he so upset? I didn't fight in HIS class or beat up HIS kid?" I understand it now, though. I'm Coach Bell at times, too. I shake my head and go into tirades (hmmm, like this Friday?) towards some of my brightest and best. Perhaps Coach Bell saw something in me that day succumb to the lowest denominator. Perhaps he felt I was going to be another kid lost to the crowd.

Back to teaching. Since day one, I have been tirelessly promoting good will from all my students and the future ones as well. I high five, act like I'm going to eat their PB and J sandwiches, talk funny and listen to their stories. At first, it was a way for me to prove that attitude and popularity was all you needed to be a successful teacher. Watch me out-teach these old ladies! Of course, I also shouted, stammered and burn myself out for those first 6 years.

I still do a lot of these things. I play basketball with my fourth graders like every game is my last. I tease some of my fifth graders from last year and I try and promote something more than myself--God. God wants my best, everyday. Sometimes it's a daunting task, especially when I don't seek his help. But, it's a far less exhausting task than before when I just promoted myself. Promoting yourself led nowhere. I burned a lot of bridges along the way, and some of those people continue to be in my life. Far better than I deserve.

So, here I am getting a hair cut. I wrote her kid up on Friday, and she's telling me the story of how bad his day was on Friday. I chuckled at her smile, and the fact that there wasn't a question as to the validity of the offense. We started to talk about the classrooms, todays kids, technology, the dangers of facebook and so many other things. I'm blessed to be one of the few carrying on a meaningful conversation while the others are sitting silent.

But the coolness factor still rears its ugly head. I got a chance to learn a monologue as if I were the character of Barabbas. You know him, right? He was set free by the Jews who had turned their backs on Jesus. Barabbas was the guilty one. But, he was the one set free, the first sinner to be saved by the blood of Jesus. And talk about following the crowd--what of Pilate? He had the power, he knew it was wrong, but he washed his hands and let the people decide because of their wishes. Been there, done that.

And I decided afterwards to quietly head out the building. I didn't want to hear, "good job," even though secretly I did. That's vanity. During awards assemblies, the principal would call our names and the class would cheer raucously. I loved being THAT teacher. This past year, she nixed that because I think some teachers actually got booed. I hear the kids tell me to fail them so they can come back. "No, you must leave and grow, my dear." Fifth graders sneak back into my room and talk to me.

Sometimes I have these silly visions of leading a kids' chorus, a performance. Like the kind you see on youtube and you think, "I want my kid to be in THAT class." Maybe that's God's way of saying that he wants me right where I am. The leader of the chorus. The Band leader. March on.

A Barbarian's Tale

I spoke about a week ago about how I feel like I'm the one dancing off kilter while everyone else around me is dancing to the beat of the world. Especially on Mondays and Fridays. On Friday, everyone wants to be off and on Monday everyone wants to be miserable. Fighting the urge to complain is like fighting that two-headed serpent from "Conan the Barbarian." You need the will of some long-haired barbarian to survive the pratfalls and expectations. My mornings lately have consisted of my morning devotions and journaling. I read Luke 12:25, which basically tells us, "What's worrying going to get you?"

I started thinking about the current situation of my job and all this senate-bill driven hysteria. Rouge principals, 50 kids in a room, no health care! I look at my 29 kids and think, what's going to happen to them? No one has really come out and said anything about how all these changes will affect the students. Not the politicians, not the political unions. Then again, I've had classes of 18 and classes of 31. Both classes failed to live up to the standards placed before them. I wish I could have taught them again from what I know now.

Recently our school was featured as one of the 31 Columbus City Schools that have failed to reach adequate progress on state scores. They blotted out our kids faces as they played during recess. And they interviewed a parent. So on this nondescript day when the news van parked across the street to gather news, they got an answer they probably weren't looking for. "It's not the teachers." Do I think that the rest of this man's message was indeed a coincidence? No. There's some assurance in my mind that God was directly speaking to me. I immediately smiled and ran to a colleague. "God is good!" We both amen-ed and went off to work smiling. The other parent they interviewed from another school? Not so good.

I know a lot of this is politics. How convenient that they show a new school like ours as failing? A few of my kids asked me if I saw the news. Yes, I told them, but I didn't elaborate. There's learning to go on. Do you feel like you are failing? No, they answer. Do you feel like I'm failing you? No. Good, now get our your blue notebooks.

If anything, this has made me more aware of what I'm trying to accomplish. I've seen the movies, I hear the pundits, and it just makes me that much more committed. I know there are other things out of my control. Kids suspended, moms who baby their kids' sicknesses as they miss yet another Monday. What happens when a kid does 11/29 homework assignments in a quarter? Will I be fined? What happens when one of my kids writes a sentence using the word "despise" as, "I despise my dad because he left us"?

I have a jar on my desk filled with about 2 dollars in quarters and an assembly of pink classroom economy tickets. Every time I say something discouraging, I put a quarter in. Every time they do, they put in a ticket. They asked me if they could pay in advance. No, we're not encouraging discourage-ness. The kids call me out on it. They hold me accountable. They watch me hold back my tongue. They get after each other. They don't like it when someone tells them "I don't care" or "shut up." Little things. Not reinventing the wheel. Life skills. Family. Get our your blue notebooks, kids. Let's get to work.

Another Man's Shoes

There's a lot of moments in my life I credit for my faith and trust in God. It was my Emmaus walk that allowed those moments to come to fruition, and for me to look in the rear-view mirror and see the people and moments fit together like so perfectly. And whether or not those responsible knew it and especially when I refused to see it, it was all part of His master plan for me.

It was a designed plan for the men at my table and the men at the weekend. Their stories, experiences and backgrounds were all factors that led to a re-examination of their lives and where they are going. The walk is not to "convert" people in a non-believer/believer capacity. It builds Christian leaders. These people "know" God, but maybe are stuck on what being a real Christian man means. And of course, many of us men were raised by fathers who sometimes thought they knew all about God too. That's always a revelation for me, to see the differences and people's pasts line up so perfectly. The man that grew up with deacons and preachers has the same issues as someone who grew up in a rough neighborhood and whose dad doled out punishments on the whips of his belt. The burned-out pastor relates to the burned-out dad, or the burned-out volunteer who never sees the light at the end of the tunnel. Most importantly, we find that these men all share the longing of having a loving relationship with their true father!

And when you place a group of men together for a weekend and devoid them of cell phones and outside entertainment, we turn into silly boys. I still attend that while I can laugh and have a good time in a room all by myself, I never laugh so much as when I attend these walks. And on top of all that, there's no feeling of having to be foul for foul's sake. Or to have the dirtiest joke, or to have it involve some girl we are vying for the affections of. To me, this is true freedom. And while I do find myself lowering myself to the lowest denominator at times, it's these weekends that remind me that I don't need and nor should I value the world's entertainment. And maybe that's what Christians have it all wrong. Are we not representing the joy of freedom or do we not know it? Why don't we manifest the love of being a father, or the love of living a life not bound by addictions, perceptions or expectations. Or are we so committed to seeing everyone we know in heaven that we stumble and trample our way into other's lives instead of making it a genuine longing? I don't have those answers, and at times I've been more reluctant to blare the good news. Maybe this is a time to end those doubts and fears.

There was a pilgrim this weekend whose actions and words were sometimes made him more outwardly visible that some of the others. He was either off-key with singing, or started the verse too soon, clapping off kilter. This is what we must look like to the outside world. We look off-kilter. We smile too much, we don't complain. We're the people that run down escalators and ride backwards in the elevators. When we dance we seem to be dancing to a different song than what is being played. I look at my new friends and Christian brothers and I can't imagine them any other way. I hear about some who found their faith later and drug addictions or years of abuse and I look at them now and see none of those struggles on their faces, or the lines on their eyes. Do they know that I am inspired to be better just by being around them?

And I literally got that chance this weekend. In my rush to get myself dressed for my talk on Sunday, and with being nervous, I accidentally wore another man's shoes when I walked up to that podium. I didn't notice that they were slightly worn. I didn't notice that they weren't as shiny as the new ones I had purchased just for this very day. They fit. They fit perfectly. I went up on that stage and delivered a message 36 years in the making, all with the help of another man's shoes. God sure speaks to you in the ways he wants to, right?

So I'll be looking for some more shoes to fill over the next few days. It's the least I can do. In-action is not a response to the grace I have been given. So whose shoes will they be? I'm looking forward to finding out.

Relentlessly Stubborn

Teaching comes with a host of variables. Before I get to those, I'll get to the constants.

Parents. And for me as of late, the traditional two-parent household isn't raising my students. I kind of hate that word, because there's almost a negative connotation with that. I probably should go to preferred. I prefer my kids to have a man and a woman--biased, again--raising them. Why? It's too much to do this job alone. My mom is my best example. I was most likely going to provide my best attitude and leadership and focus in school when BOTH my parents were on the same page, both placing a foot in my ass when I didn't listen. My mom sometimes did this alone (and yes, sometimes a couple can be together but alone, I get this too) and it was tough for her I'm sure. I was expected to help with my younger sister and to help around the house. Grandma's are okay, but sometimes they, in their effort to show steadfast love to their grandchildren, basically throw their own children's parenting skills under the bus. I know sometimes my grandmother did not approve of how I was raised because she never really told me I did anything wrong even when it was fairly clear I was taking advantage of my situation. I see this at school too. Grandparents stick their noses in their daughter's business. They want their grandbaby held back when they are struggling. They pick them up early on Friday to spoil the grandbaby. They call the teacher and tell them that their child isn't raising them right. It's either too loving or not loving. Grandparents shouldn't be raising our next generation of kids--there's just too much judgement and not enough energy.

Teacher Efficacy. We start the year 100 percent goal oriented. We smile and shake hands during those team meetings in August. No one complains during lunch and we take time to catch up with our friends who we haven't seen in months. Something happens during the year, however. The world takes over. The lack of leadership takes over. Our trust gets blunted from phone calls that aren't returned or homeworks left at home (I can't wait to share my homework and attendance totals this year with all of you!), or papers left unsigned. When a parent tells you to just "call the cops" for an intervention, you tend to fall back on what the world wants you to believe--that their isn't any hope for our future. Cynicism takes over, because, in essence, cynicism is the absence of hope.

My efficacy got the better of me today. I get emotional. I hear a "I don't care" and I tee off. How dare you say that when I do x amount of work to baby just a passing grade from you? I take your basketball trash-can shots, the bathroom break during instructions, the drawing of dragons and muscle-bound superheroes during spelling tests, your absenteeism and your morning moods. You want to see what being a kid in ANOTHER room is like? Oh, baby, it's on. You get my point? That's another constant--my emotions. I take them with me. I've been in trouble for them and I love that God has given me this spirit that is relentlessly stubborn.

But the biggest variable every year, for me anyway, is the kids. Every year, they are new. I keep class sets from every year but my inaugural group (I found out yesterday one of my first trouble kids was in jail recently). They hang on my wall and they remind me of those distinct and unique variables. Many of them look alike (funny about resemblances) and sometimes they are even cousins. I forget some names and I remember others. I wonder where some of them are (some are on facebook!) and sigh about the futures I didn't get to witness.

You see, being me means I wont be at someone's graduation, sitting alongside their mom and cheering as they walk the stage. I probably will never know who marries and who becomes a doctor. I probably wont get a letter in the mail about how great they've turned out. But I do know how I treated just about every one of them. Despite my best intentions, I had my favorites, and worse, I wrote some of them off. Just who is excelling now who I thought would never amount to anything?

So my emotions do get the best of me. But guess what I'm going to do tomorrow? I'm going to sit down with that kid and tell him that I'm so mad that I will never see him grow into a young man. I wont know the feeling of seeing him married, with kids, living on his own and making his mother proud. I love you enough to tell you that I'm selfish. I work hard at school just to give you away on the weekends. And since I wont grow up to see how your life finishes, you're going to do me a solid and "care" for just one more day.

How's that for a conference?

Into the Pit

It's been a week since my last posting about my feelings on the current collective bargaining bill that STILL hasn't seen a vote for or against now that 20,000 stomping feet have stormed the state capital. I had a lot of responses, some light arguments, an even some debates on car rides home with my wife (like tonight). After church tonight, I have a better understanding of what's to come in these uncertain times. So, I'll attempt to chase that lion again into the pit on a snowy day.

Delcina was in attack mode tonight on our way home. The funny thing about working with your wife is that the drive to and from work are together, so the common need to refuel before work is exhilarating while sometimes trying to wind down from a long day can either be stressful, slap happy or combative. I don't know if she ever reads these things, but she was making her tone very clear that I was in the wrong on my waffling stance on the current bill.

So we get into sick days (the current bill, from my limited knowledge, wants to limit the number of sick days we have), like if some are eliminated it may deter the one person who takes every Friday off maybe wont because they're aren't so many days in the coffer. I understand that my argument is flawed because this doesn't count the person who has been in the system forever and probably has enough days to last a year, or the woman who takes 6 weeks for family leave when she has a baby. I'm also not taking into account legitimate life and death diseases or some kind of calamity. Those things happen and it only counts as a skewing of the overall number. We get into people who abuse Fridays and Mondays and no one is allowed to say anything to me whatsoever if I'm off. There seems to be something amiss about not having to provide a doctor's note or some kind of excuse as to where I am when I'm supposed to be teaching. Just because we have the "right" to do something doesn't mean we should exercise that right. I know this all to well. Maybe I've been that person?

But this conversation isn't so much about busting the unions, or worker's rights but everything to do with my vision as an educator. I remember driving past my first elementary school job assignment, and it struck me that there were a lot of similarities to one of my schools I walked to as a kid. This was the place I belonged! I can't tell you enough about that first year except that I failed miserably, screamed too much and respected no one. I had my thoughts on what to fix and soon realized it was more than the kids that made a true teacher special. But, no matter what I tried, or how many tears I cried on the last day of school (I still do sometimes), I still ended up like every other frustrated lounge denizen. At home, it wasn't much different. A real man I had not become.

So what do I really wish for? It has nothing to do with union representation or workers' rights. I want to come to work an not have anyone count down the days till Friday, Christmas Break, Spring Break or Summer Break. I want to have productive meetings where my boss leads and gets us so invested in the school, we would be foolish to do lesson plans instead. What would it look like if we had meetings we didn't want to miss? I want my colleagues to make phone calls to parents even when they piss them off, or to have silly competitions to see who can attract more parents at conferences. I want to see happy faces and hi-fives.

I have work to do too, dear reader. I failed today. I yelled at a kid who touched my Smartboard when he wasn't supposed to and I keep forgetting to print something for a group. I threw away an assessment because it wasn't smart enough for what I needed and I got after my second reading group for basically being kids. I'm going to smile more tomorrow and work on improving. I will not count my days until Friday. I will chase the lion into the snowy pit. I will face the uncertainty of where this job will lead and the answer has nothing to do with what my union, my elected rep or president will do. Man will always let you down. God doesn't.

So, I'm going to trust in the only thing I can count on. God.

The Fence Rider

I'm going to attempt to either convince myself I'm wrong, or convince myself I'm right. Anyone who knows me realizes I like to waver and straddle the fence on most issues. Perhaps I'm a gutless pig. Maybe I am a man of no convictions. One thing I do know is that I generally see both sides in most arguments. This wasn't always the case, as my side usually won on most issues, regardless if I was wrong. I want to be wrong, rather than right. And with this as my into, let's jump into Senate Bill 5!

In brief, Ohio Governor Kasich (I voted for the guy, so I know full and well what I was getting myself into!) and the Republican side (?) of the Senate is pushing a bill to eliminate collective bargaining across the board for its police, fireman, teachers and other employees. As a "union" busting bill, it's supporters are hoping to bargain with the teachers (and others) on budget, health care and wages without having to bow down to salary demands from the union. There's other issues at stake here as well. The bill also wants to eliminate step increases and salary schedule by imposing pay based on merit (more on this later), proposing workers to pay up to 20 percent of their (our) health costs and for teachers, eliminating class size proposals too (more on that later).

Now with everything happening in Wisconsin, it's becoming apparent that both the teachers and the politicians are not going to budge. Schools are closed with teachers claiming that today's kids will learn that somethings need to be fought for (when they are probably getting in their X-Box games in large volumes) and the Democratic senators leaving the state so they wont have to vote on the bill. And here I am again at a crossroads. How does not teaching prove your worth and how is running from the fight into another state going to help prove your side?

I hope this doesn't happen in Ohio. Some of it is. Some of my colleagues have taken a day off last Thursday to march and speak alongside the numerous other state employees. No one seems to be willing to budge, and perhaps this is part of the problem. Our governor fired the first salvo by saying he would punish striking workers. Our side fired back, and have been pretty much on the defensive end all year. In fact, our union prints a newsletter once a week, and anyone can find at least one instance of the language we use to supposedly work together into condescending diatribes. Every school's business is there to see? How is reporting a grievance of another school's principal relevant to how I'm going to do my job better? They want me to vote a certain way and will sometimes editorialize their feelings about our district. Hey, we all do at times, but the conversations in my teachers' lounge are not printed for consumption (and I'm beginning to feel I need to just stay in my own room for lunch lately).

Now, much of this union busting business is stemmed from state's budgets that have been spiraling out of control for some time. I don't expect the government to figure out the states' spending in a logical manner considering myself and millions of other Americans have thousands of dollars of debt of their own. But when your finances are a mess, you make the cuts that are necessary. On a personal note, you try to cut out the frivolous things and focus on the necessities. This means less movies and dinners out and more on groceries. Simple. Now states don't necessarily think this way. Many are unwilling to cut personal projects and earmarks and are looking to bite into the unions of the state as part of their means. Healthcare spending is high too. I'm not an expert on states' budgets, and if I were I wouldn't be a teacher considering I would need to invest more time in that instead of my own lesson plans.

So old union agreements such as pensions were promised when the economy was fruitful. Now that every state is feeling the fiscal pinch, something must be cut. Do I agree that it should be the pensions of our cops, firemen and teachers? And maybe it isn't exactly the pensions but the step increases that are already in place and are exponentially larger each year. Our healthcare is going up and the state wants us to pay more of our costs. Why couldn't this be negotiated on bit sides before rallies had to be made and tempers flared? Seems silly.

Now, teachers and unions are also projected as a protector of a bunch of lazy workers. Negative stories of bad behavior and tales of "rubber rooms" paint the profession in a negative light. I cannot speak for teachers nationally or what their union fights for or not, but I do know that there is something wrong and broken with the current state of education. There's a tremendous amount of waste in the school system (much on the end of the administrators as well). Do you want to know how many teachers teach from the back of their desks? Do you really want to see the work packets that are printed out and how much seat work really goes on? If it happens at one school, imagine it multiplied throughout and entire district, a state, a nation.

Does the union protect these teachers? To a certain degree. Worse is that we protect our own. We see the ones we want to work with, the teammates who you would have your own kids being taught by. We see them yelling in the halls and we say nothing. We see them take almost every Friday off while the rest of us are working. We hear them complain in the lounge and realize that seniority is the only thing keeping them employed.

I'm ready for a merit-based pay scale. I welcome it. I don't want to lose my job to someone who has had more years which makes them better. I am aware of the ramifications. First, there is no rigid, proven way to evaluate my worth as a teacher. It's almost like parenting. Is there a test that proves I'm raising my son right? Will a test score prove my worth or the worth of that parent who makes sure their child is doing their homework instead of being on facebook. Batelle has come up with a convoluted method called "value-added" and if you can understand their charts and graphs and measurements, it shows a child's progress. Will that be the key to unlocking a merit-based system? Will it be like the NCAA BCS super computer calculations? Like, will the # of office referrals, test scores, days absent, degree earned and # of students in my classrooms create a score that ranks me in my building? Maybe I should be against Senate Bill 5 on those reasons alone, but why isn't my union doing more to base pay and layoffs on merit rather than years? This doesn't even take into account the cops, nurses and firemen!

As a taxpayer myself, I'm also feeling the pinch. My daughter's school keeps raising the prices of sports and is cutting teachers and services district-wide because of failed levies and budget constraints. A no vote is somehow anti-schools and a yes-vote means I just voted for the next tax increase to come. Where is the end? I would pay for more cops and firemen and health care. Why can't I just come to the table, without striking, without fear of being fired and work these things out? The suits on both sides are to blame. If the schools are this bad, why are the suits still holding their jobs?

I don't see the bill passing regardless if I rally or change my profile on facebook to show my allegiance to my union. It is though, a sign of things to come. What do I want to do? I just want to teach.

Anthem of Love

I recently read a post on Facebook about the separation of church and state argument. It detailed how an organized group of kids can meet and pray and live faithfully, just so long as it is not endorsed by the administration, district, and therefore, not a teacher either (not sure about the last one in terms of off-site. The young life volunteers and mentors at my daughter's high school sometimes work within the school district as coaches and teachers).

I've been mulling over the many times God shows up in my school day. While I don't "teach" theology, I do teach and enforce the morals of respect, support and family. That's Jesus right there. While I don't openly pray with my students, I pray for many of them. And while I don't lead a class into the aspects of sin and Jesus' grace, I do work on showing forgiveness and giving an equal share.

Recently, we've had two school assemblies featuring speakers for Black History Month. Having been doing more and more research about the history of slavery and some of its most notable faces, I've come to understand that there really isn't a way to discuss slavery and the civil rights' movement without mentioning the faith of many of its people.

Now, I know this can go both ways. some can argue that the Kingdom-Over "faith" of Christianity and more than likely Catholicism, was one of the main roots of the evils of slavery. Besides winning land for the crown, giving faith to the Natives of the new land was another top priority. Now, if it had to be forced, the more the merrier. I also understand this highly complex relationship, but knowing this allows me to know that love and grace wins more than brute force. We can learn from those mistakes as well. Should we forget? Of course not, but what can a teacher in central Ohio do to alleviate the sins of the past?

Back to the speakers. One of them was a characterization of Sojourner Truth. Among the retelling of her history of being a child born into bondage and being sold from her family at 9, told of how singing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star," became an anthem of her love with God. I'm looking around for my principle who is probably ready to pull the woman off the stage like she's at the Apollo Theater Amateur Night. Then the speaker goes into singing, "Jesus Loves Me," and I'm in the back, smiling as ever at the situation. I teach in an age where you can't offend anyone or speak of anything Christian, but I'm in an all-school assembly singing "Jesus Loves Me."

A Week later, we have another speaker, a radio personality and ex-body builder who spoke to the kids about a healthy lifestyle and staying positive. He ends the lesson by saying, "Put God First" and had the kids repeat it. Awesome! God isn't separated from schools. He's knee deep in them. The only thing that's close to being separated is that the schools cannot endorse any one religion (maybe you're thinking we did with the speakers we chose).

So, I go back to the novels I've read and the references to God. Shilo. Day of Tears. Sounder. Because of Winn Dixie. Stone Fox. Maniac Magee. The list is an awesome sign of the writers who wrote with their experiences and sometimes, their faith (I can only assume, but in each case it's dealt with respect and reverence). And if I'm getting into this topic full bore, how can we truly understand the people we are expected to learn about without mentioning the faith of these people? This also means we talk openly about Ghandi's and Malcolm X as well as Martin Luther King Jr.'s. Can I expect my kids to understand the abolitionist movement without first understanding that many of the first were religious men? The history books make short thrift, in my opinion. Does it mean that my own education should be as well?

I'm chapter 6 into Day of Tears, about the real-life slave auction of the Pierce Butler plantation slaves. My theme of the story is to make the kids realize how slavery was not only deplorable and a horror beyond belief, but that it was a systematic breaking of a man's spirit. I spend the time to re-read sections of the story when slaves brokered for their own lives and to keep the masters from selling their families, and end up sounding live slave auctioneers in the process. The kids of today have no understanding of this. They only know talking back, respect and personal space. Will today's black youth ever understand that feeling of worthlessness? I'm going to keep asking them and emphasizing and teaching. It's the best that I can do.