Years ago, my wife had a friend who was a world-class gossip. Whenever my wife came home from spending time with her, she’d have updates on everybody. Some of it was harmless enough – new jobs, family news, who moved where.

But most of it was catty. Judgmental. Mean. This person always had something negative to say about somebody. One friend was lazy. Another was selfish. Another was a bad parent. Another was cheap. Nobody escaped criticism.

Finally, I asked my wife, “D, if she trash-talks all her other friends to you, who do you think she trash-talks to them?”

Yeah. You.

That’s the thing about gossips and chronic complainers. People sometimes think they’re being included in some special inner circle. They think, “Well, WE are the reasonable ones. WE are the exception.”

Nope.

If someone spends all day bad-mouthing other people, eventually your turn comes too. That’s just what they do.

I thought about that after my interaction with Loud this week. Loud was furious at another co-worker and at one point called them a “fucking idiot” because they disagreed about a work issue. And all I could think was: what exactly does Loud call ME when I’m not there?

Because if someone complains about almost every person in the building, why would I imagine I somehow get spared? Why would anybody think they’re immune from a person whose entire social interaction revolves around negativity?

My wife used the word “toxic” when I told her the story. I usually roll my eyes at trendy buzzwords, but honestly, in this case, it fits. That environment is toxic.  But mostly it was the realization that I don’t want to be a part of that person’s negativity (as the hearer or target)

Yesterday I made the mistake of lingering in a co-worker’s room. Never linger. That’s how workplace documentaries begin.

I had only gone in to use the microwave. Let’s call this co-worker “Loud.” Immediately, Loud started complaining about an upcoming event. Secretly, I was delighted because it proved I was right. I had previously been asked to take on that role, but I declined because I did not believe the promise that “there won’t be mission creep.” Friends, there was mission creep. There was mission sprinting. The role has now expanded into a multi-department turf war involving various stakeholders, all of whom apparently have different visions and none of whom actually have power.

So while Loud is venting, another co-worker, the Immediate Boss, walks in and starts complaining about a third co-worker, Worker Bee.

Mistake #1: I said I agreed with Worker Bee in theory, just not in approach.

This led to a disagreement, which is fine with Immediate Boss because Boss and I can disagree like adults. We make points. We respond. We occasionally say things like, “I see your argument.”

Loud, however, debates like a guy trying to get kicked out of a Buffalo Wild Wings. Volume increases. Arms waving. Veins activating. Then comes the name-calling. Worker Bee became a “fucking idiot” and several other things that probably violate HR policy, FCC regulations, and possibly the Geneva Convention.

And that’s always my issue with this stuff. Can we not just disagree anymore? Why does every disagreement have to escalate into “this person is morally defective and should be launched into the sun”?

This tiny interaction is exactly why I don’t eat lunch or do the pre-work coffee thing with most co-workers in my department. It’s a vortex of complaining. Everyone leaves more irritated than when they arrived. It’s emotional secondhand smoke. Worse, I absorb it. I become more negative. Which is impressive, because my natural resting state is “mildly disappointed history professor in a 1970s movie.”

OTOH, this morning I had coffee with two other co-workers, and it was great. We talked about comedians, religion, current events, and random nonsense. No work talk. No complaining. No gossip. We disagreed on things like normal humans, and nobody called anyone an idiot or suggested exile.

The amazing thing is that these people dislike work just as much as everyone else. They simply don’t build an entire personality around complaining about it.

I left laughing and in a legitimately better mood.

So I’m recommitting to trying to be an uplifter. Not in a motivational speaker, “Live Laugh Love” sign kind of way. I’m still me. There will still be sarcasm. There will still be annoyance. But I don’t want to become one of those people whose entire emotional diet consists of outrage, complaints, and reheated grievances from the microwave room.

I don’t want to be someone who leaves people feeling worse for having spent time with them.  Just the opposite.  I’d like people to leave feeling better.

Where you drink your coffee matters.

There is a sacred annual tradition in high schools across America – Senior Ditch Day.

Like all great traditions, it is treated with the secrecy of a covert military operation. Whispered conversations in hallways.  Sudden silence when a teacher walks by.  Students acting like they are planning the moon landing instead of skipping fourth-period Government.

I knew it was coming because one or two kids let it slip, but most of them were acting like they were protecting state secrets.

Relax,  guys.  We know.

You are not the first senior class to discover the revolutionary concept of not coming to school in April.

What always makes me laugh is the assumption that teachers are somehow devastated by this betrayal.

Oh no.  Please.  Don’t ditch.

Don’t make me sit in a peaceful, silent classroom for six out of eight periods.  Don’t force me to enjoy the sound of absolutely nothing instead of listening to someone explain, for the third time this week, why they couldn’t possibly complete an assignment because their Chromebook was dead, their phone was at 2%, and Mercury is in retrograde.  Please don’t deprive me of redirecting the same student 56 times in 50 minutes, only for them to still turn in nothing.  Please don’t rob me of hearing inane conversations shouted across the room about who hooked up with who, who might fight after school, or why someone’s cousin’s boyfriend is “literally insane.”

I beg you – stay.

The truth is,  I don’t know many teachers who are going to deeply miss this particular group of seniors.  That sounds harsh, but honesty is important in education.  By late April, we are all just trying to land the plane without setting the runway on fire.

At this point,  if half the senior class wants to vanish for a day,  I support their journey.  Honestly,  I wish they would ditch every day between now and graduation.

Except my AP students.

They are absolutely forbidden from ditching.  They may begin their own Senior Ditch Season promptly at 12:01 a.m. on May 7, after the AP exam.  Until then,  they belong to me.  After that? Godspeed.  Go to brunch.  Go to Target.  Go sit in a parking lot drinking iced coffee and talking about college orientation.

You’ve earned it.

The rest of you?  You’ve also made a choice.

And apparently, that choice was to make Senior Ditch Day your most academically productive day of the year.

One benefit of working here…

I just had a conversation with a student entirely in Spanish.  So, there is that.

I spent the morning proctoring the ACT at work.

I’d love it if school districts made the ACT/SAT optional.  Maybe some do, not mine.  Every kid has to take it, no matter what path they are on.  For 50% of our students, it is a waste of time.  They aren’t going to college.   We don’t force kids to take the ASVAB.  Only kids who want to go to the military take that.  We don’t force them to take the Welders’ Union exam.

I get that college is important, and many people are better off for going, but it isn’t the answer for everybody, and making people take 3.5-hour standardized tests is a waste of time and resources.

In the wake of the news, a CPS school is exploring changing its name from Cesar Chavez Elementary. I’m once again suggesting we do away with school names, ala NYC.

Just give them numbers.

P.S. for elementary schools and H.S. for high schools.

Start with P.S. 1 and keep going until you run out of elementary schools.  Same with high schools.

I doubt the number 3 or 76 will ever be cancelled due to uncovered misdeeds (but I wouldn’t put it past Twitter or BlueSky these days).

There are few things worse in education than sitting through a useless, all-day professional development session.

Yesterday’s installment? Multilingual education.

Now, to be clear, that’s not a bad topic. It’s an important one. The problem is, we already had four separate PDs on it last year. At this point, it’s not professional development, it’s professional déjà vu. I didn’t learn a single new thing. The only thing that happened was that some outside agency cashed a nice district check.

And that’s kind of the game, isn’t it?

Almost every PD I’ve attended follows the same script: bring in consultants to teach teachers how to talk to kids…as if we don’t do that all day. As if many of us don’t also have kids of our own. As if the building isn’t already full of experienced teachers, deans, and counselors who actually know our students.

But no—let’s keep feeding the consultant industry at CPS’s trough.

The real highlight, though, is always the lingo.

So for the next PD, I’m making BINGO cards for my friends. First one to BINGO wins a beer.

Squares will include:

• “Equity”
• “Seen and heard.”
• Free space “Bio break” (just say break…we can all decide if we need to use the bathroom or not)
• “Collaboration”
• “Oppression”
• “Community”
• “Thank you for sharing.”
• “Let’s unpack that.”
• “Difficult conversations”

It’s mind-numbing.

And don’t get me started on “studies show…”

Which studies? Where? Conducted by whom? Can I read them? Or are we just supposed to nod along because someone said “research-based” in a confident tone?

At some point, “studies show” just becomes an appeal to authority with a PowerPoint slide.

This mindset is how we ended up teaching reading the wrong way for years. A study showed that certain strategies helped some students with reading disabilities, and instead of using that as a targeted intervention, the system said, “Great—let’s do that for everyone.”

And now we’ve got generations of kids who struggle to decode words, don’t recognize prefixes and suffixes, and are left guessing based on context clues, like it’s a game of educational charades.

But hey, studies showed.  (fantastic podcast on that issue)

The bigger issue, though, is this: I’m not sure I’m a good fit for education anymore.

I’d put it at about 70% that this is my last year.

It feels like CPS cares more about social-emotional checkboxes and graduation rates than about actually producing educated people. There’s little accountability for students to do the work—just a growing list of reasons why they can’t. Standards get lowered, expectations get softened, discipline becomes optional, and the solution is always…more spending.

More programs. More consultants. More initiatives.

Worse results.

At some point, you have to ask whether this is about education, or if it’s just a very expensive jobs program wrapped in good intentions.

Enrollment keeps dropping. Families are voting with their feet.

And the system’s response?

Demand May 1st off so students can join the union in protesting for more funding.  Really.

I should learn my lesson.  This is the second professional development day at my school that I can’t “sign in” to because I don’t bring my phone.  I want to be a better “student,” so I don’t bring electronics to the meeting.  That way, I won’t be the person scrolling online like 95% of my colleagues and ignoring the teacher.  I know I hate that when I’m teaching so I’m trying to be mindful and respectful.

BUT then, sign-ins are always QR codes to scan.

Sigh