On pandemucation.

“Just a former student” writes:

I hope you’re staying safe and healthy during these tumultuous times.

I wanted to hear how you’re coping with working from home and more importantly, your thoughts on how this COVID-19 pandemic will affect our economy. Do you think the government handing out coronavirus stimulus checks was a good idea? Or is increasing our national debt going to end up being a mistake?

Also, how is PSAS handling graduation?


I am safe and healthy aside from severe eye strain. Thank you for asking, and I hope you are well too, whoever you are.

Let me address the school stuff for now and the economic stuff in a later post, because there’s so much to be said. Teaching from home has generally been much tougher than teaching at school. Here’s a short list of my difficulties:

  • Learning how to use Microsoft Teams for tele-teaching, for conferring with colleagues, making announcements, etc.
  • Addressing student questions and concerns… though having a chat window where I can see their questions helps.
  • Maintaining test security. Test security in this environment doesn’t exist.
  • Monitoring student performance. Given the strain on the internet and the various degrees of internet access at home, the students can’t all turn their work in at the same time, so I can’t examine it all at the same time, and can’t give them feedback all at the same time.
  • Adjusting lessons/lectures based on student feedback. This is partly due to the same concern mentioned above, partly due to not being able to see looks of confusion or contemplation, partly due to not being able to interpret the tone of a question if it’s typed in a chat window. Note that this doesn’t mean I’d actually change anything; I give exactly the same lectures every single year.

But there’s been some upside:

  • Microsoft Teams makes it easier to get content to my students in case of absences– mine or theirs. And now I know how to use it.
  • The commute to work is much easier and less tiring, though I now avoid my office like the plague, no pun intended, during my “off hours.”
  • I’ve had time to think more carefully about what productive teaching entails. My conclusion is that I’ve been right all along and I’m going to keep talking at people. It works.

I think this whole mess could lead to some big structural changes in education. I’ll have more to add once I’m out of Internal Assessment Grading Mode, which should occur by Friday of this week. In the interest of helping us cope with the cancellation of the IB exams, IB decided to make my grading process 9.2 times harder this year by requiring commentary on 92 papers instead of a random sample of 10. So my brain is fried right now and is crying for sleep.

We don’t yet know how graduation is going to be handled, and I hesitate to share my own ideas for fear of getting blamed for a second wave of starting in late May or early June.

That’s it for now. More later.

EDIT: A quick Google search reveals a grand total of zero hits for “pandemucation.” I’m calling it now, and first.


Not too long ago, I heard about a parent-teacher conference that I wish I’d sat in on. The story goes that this parent-of-a-struggling-student kicked off the conference by explaining how he, the parent, would teach the class.

The first suggestion was that the teacher should make the class interesting. The second suggestion was that the teacher should show how the class material related to the students’ everyday lives. Both were brilliant ideas that had never ever occurred to this teacher in all his years of teaching. And yet the third took the take:

The teacher should explain how he wished he’d worked harder in school so that he didn’t have to become a teacher. That would inspire students to hit the books, pay attention in class, and perform well on assessments.

Upon hearing this story the first time, several barbed responses occurred to me. My favorite of the bunch was “Sir, I retired when I was 28. I teach because I love teaching children.” Why? Three reasons. First, both statements are technically correct, which is the best kind of correct. Second, “I teach because…” is a positive statement that hopefully will segue into a positive, productive discussion. Third, it makes the jerk a little more insecure about his own accomplishments in life, or lack thereof.

Actually, if I’d heard that third suggestion in person, my eyes would’ve bulged out, my jaw would’ve dropped, and I would’ve been too shocked and insulted to respond right way. I’m told that the teacher kept his composure, wisely let the comment slide, and went on with the conference, which was probably the most professional way to handle the affront.

While it is true that we want our students and our progeny to have better lives and careers than we had, there are probably better ways to articulate the thought.

Ramblings on innumeracy.

Ereyesterday, I had a fun chat with my dear friend Dr. Hmnahmna regarding Common Core mathematics. Here’s a transcript, edited slightly for clarity and national security:

DR. HMNAHMNA: From what I’ve seen of “Common Core” math (the quotes are deliberate), it’s not nearly as stupid as people think. I say “Common Core” because all Common Core does is say that you should have certain skills at a certain point.

VDV: I don’t think it’s stupid, but I do think it’s needlessly complicated. They’re giving as much emphasis to shortcuts and tricks as they are to basic algorithms and tables. I think that’s a mistake.

DR. HMNAHMNA: What most people call “Common Core” is various curricula that implement those standards.

VDV: Correct.

DR. HMNAHMNA: There’s actually deep concepts buried in those “shortcuts” and “tricks”.

VDV: I don’t deny that one bit. I question the utility of the approach, and I fully expect that as these students reach high school they’ll be worse at math than current high schoolers.

DR. HMNAHMNA: Here’s an example of chunking:


Basically, this breaks the problem down into easier to manage chunks. If you’ve ever made change running a cash register, this is the way it’s done. It also demonstrates the commutative and associative properties of addition and subtraction in a concrete way. And if you’re trying to quickly subtract 712 – 648 in your head, it works much better than trying to remember the borrowing algorithm that we learned.

VDV: Again, I’m not denying that the tricks/shortcuts/alternate methods aren’t useful. I think the traditional method has far greater utility on paper. And I don’t mean “on paper” to mean “theoretically”, I mean actually on paper. The larger the numbers get, the less I’d want Joe Average to rely on a mental calculation, and the more I’d like him to rely on tried-and-true. I’ve seen a lot of students try to guess their ways through simple arithmetic work, and if they don’t guess right, the attitude is “oh well”. I shudder to think what’s going to happen when the CC wave comes through. Maybe I’m wrong, though.

DR. HMNAHMNA: Is your students’ approach a matter of not knowing the method? Or is it just trying to blow through and not caring? Because I haven’t figured out a teaching method that can overcome cockiness/laziness.

VDV: [Redacted list of SMERSH-approved torture techniques] overcome cockiness and laziness. Unfortunately they aren’t permitted by the curriculum. Seriously, though, what I meant was that training the masses to do it in their heads will lead to less patience with pencil-and-paper, and less willingness to use it.

DR. HMNAHMNA: The other big advantage I’ve seen from these other methods is that they are designed to promote a deeper understanding of what you’re doing when you subtract 712-648. And demonstrating it using teaching methods that are applied again in higher math.

VDV: When you put it like that, I think of the analogy of plumbing vs. fluid dynamics, or history vs. historiography. Or of the argument over the correct “first ten numbers” (0-9 vs. 1-10). Do they need the deeper mathematical understanding, or do they need extensive practice in efficient arithmetic calculation?

DR. HMNAHMNA: I happen to think that innumeracy is a big problem and that deeper mathematical understanding is important, though practice for efficiency is also important.

VDV: I agree. I see no reason not to introduce algebra/geometry earlier.

DR. HMNAHMNA: If I had to choose, I’d rather have a deeper understanding and slightly less efficient.

VDV: If I had to choose that for the Hmnahmnas and the [our friend who majored in mechanical engineering and is an industrial manager]s and the [our friend in military intelligence who majored in history and physics]s of the world, yes. But we’re also talking about the people who mess up your change at McDonald’s.

DR. HMNAHMNA: I think the example above will actually help the people at McDonalds not mess up your change. Note I said that it is the exact method you use to count change– count up from the total to the amount of cash handed over.

VDV: That’s why I used that example.

DR. HMNAHMNA: And hopefully, the deeper understanding will remove the blank stares when the total is $6.03 and you hand them $10.10.

VDV: May I propose a minor flaw with the analogy? If chunking, cashiers don’t have to keep track of how much they’re handing back (i.e., the difference). They just have to keep adding bills and coins until (price + change) = (initial payment).

DR. HMNAHMNA: Maybe I don’t understand people that are stupid at math, which is entirely possible.

Dr. Hmnahmna has a doctorate in mechanical engineering. It’s entirely possible.

Byzantine arithmetic is not unique to our era. About a month back, I picked up an 1877 edition of Ray’s New Practical Arithmetic: A Revised Edition of the Practical Arithmetic. Four bucks at a flea market. Here’s some Core-esque material from page 29:


I shouldn’t have posted this. Someone, somewhere, might get some ideas.

Yesterday I was told by another friend, who has operated cash registers far more recently than either Dr. Hmnahmna or I have, that many modern cash registers have dedicated buttons for each denomination of currency. That means that a present-day cashier can get away with not knowing how much cash the customer handed over. If the customer gives the cashier two twenties, the cashier can just press the $20 button twice.

I replied that even that might prove too complicated one day. What if the cashier doesn’t recognize the digits on the bills or coins, or can’t tell the difference between Grant and Franklin, or doesn’t understand that a $20 is worth more than a $10? I mean, looking at two digits is so much tougher than looking at one. We need to make counting bills and coins as simple as humanly possible. Therefore I recommend that henceforth, all portraits and other decorative images on American currency be replaced with symbols from video game controllers. Problem solved, and we’re one step closer to pure idiocracy.

My proposal also eliminates any possible debate about controversial figures appearing on our currency. Honoring Andrew Jackson by putting him on the twenty is questionable for several reasons, but what did or  ever do to anyone?


A coupla weeks back, a student asked an odd question. She asked how the members of the Second Continental Congress got to Philadelphia to work on the Declaration of Independence. Before I got the chance to answer that question, she asked another, much braver one: “Did they have cars?”

I hope I stopped the teasing and tittering before it got started by explaining that cars, as we recognize them today, wouldn’t be invented for another 100 years or so.

Anyhow, that “silly” question got me thinking. Consider that to the average teenager, cars have always been around. Their parents and grandparents grew up in a world with cars all over the place. We can easily grasp the idea that cars haven’t always been as advanced as they are today, but visualizing a world without cars– and I mean going beyond the intellectual knowledge that cars haven’t always been there, I mean really visualizing what life was like as if we were there– grows increasingly difficult with each passing generation. (Consider also that there isn’t much history taught in elementary school, and if you haven’t sought out this sort of information, and if it hasn’t come up in a history class by the time you’re in my classroom, it makes sense you wouldn’t really know when the automobile came around.)

Look at telephones. Today’s high school seniors were born in a world where cell phones weren’t ubiquitous, but they probably don’t remember it well. I remember pre-ubiquity pretty darn well: it was much more difficult to get in touch with people, cordless phones were a big deal, you used pay phones more often, caller ID was less common, prank calls were more common, and so on. My parents remember the days of someone from the telephone company coming over to install or repair your AT&T phone– and you were stuck with AT&T because there were no other phone companies. My grandparents, once they finally got phones, had party lines.

I remember a time before cell phones (yes, they were invented before I was born, but they didn’t trickle down to Joe Average until 10-15 years ago). I can imagine what the world was like without any sort of phones, but I don’t think I can truly appreciate what that world was like. And I think that makes it harder to count the ways in which the world is more awesome than ever before.

The faster technology advances, and the more that people are born into an increasingly advanced world, the harder it is for people to understand their ancestors’ everyday lives and to appreciate the material progress of mankind.

I probably wouldn’t have liked this when I was a teenager, but I’d like to see some sort of lesson or ritual or holiday that involves living with the technology of generations past. Some people might call that “camping”, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean a 1963 day (and night) where you live with the technology of 1963– no cell phones, expensive long-distance calls, music from the radio or the record player, a black-and-white TV, etc. (“Kids, this is how your grandparents lived.”) I mean a 1923 day with a party line phone, limited indoor plumbing, limited access to cars, no TV, maybe a pre-talkie movie, and no microwave or fast food. (“Kids, this is how your great- or great-great-grandparents lived.”) I mean an 1873 day with no cars or TV or phones or electric light. Let’s even throw in the clothing of the time, though I wouldn’t throw in the medicine or lack thereof of the time, because we’re trying to cultivate a sense of history here, not bring back the plague. Maybe we could also get the town/city/surrounding community to tone down the light pollution at night so we could actually see some stars.

Living that way for a day and night (though three to five days per time period would really drive it home) would do a much better job of showing kids how we used to live than any course or lecture or dinnertime story. It would be a far more powerful way of envisioning and connecting to our pasts. Sure, it’d probably be miserable to live through as a kid, but take solace in imagining your own grandchildren griping about “2013 Day” and having to make do with a smartphone that wasn’t built into your hand or not having a heads-up display projected on your contact lens.

When I went to college, I had a PS/2 with 4 MB of RAM and 128 MB of hard drive space when I went to college. When my dad went to college, he used punch cards to write simple addition programs on a computer the size of a room. When my grandfather went to college, he had a pencil, a slide rule, and some paper. My great-grandfather didn’t go to college; he had a shovel and a railroad wrench.


We’re three days in to the new year, and all three days I’ve had a vague and nagging feeling that something was just plain un-right. I wasn’t able to place it until this evening.

I spent a good chunk of pre-planning trying to determine the best layout for my classroom given the increased class sizes. In all that time I spent trying to figure out how to arrange 35 desks in my room, and which other pieces of furniture to rearrange or remove in order to accommodate those desks, and where to move the items that once sat upon the pieces of furniture I had to remove, and which desks were too badly broken to re-use, and where to get replacement desks from, and whether I felt like cleaning the desktops before the angels put their heads down on them, and where to put the small desks, and where to put the big desks, and where to put the red desks, and where to put the blue desks, and how to implement feng shui and optimize the flow of ch’i through my classroom and whether I was spending way too much time on the whole matter when I should have been goofing off… I forgot one small detail.

I forgot to hang my flags– Bennington, Washington’s Standard, and Gadsden. Those flags have adorned my classroom walls since time immemorial. ‘Twill be rectified tomorrow.

A waning bliss.

One of the most melancholic moments of my childhood came on the first day of third grade. That was the day it truly hit me that my friends and I only had a year left on the good playground– the one with the tall, cylindrical jungle gym that served as our spaceship. It was a great jungle gym; it had interior and exterior bars, so we could pretend that the interior set was our engine room. The rounded bolt heads were the buttons that sped us through space, raised the shields, fired the weapons, and scanned for life on the sandbox or teeter-totter. Awesome, I know.

So that day, I was down because in a year’s time, we’d be torn from our beloved ship. Fourth graders and used a different playground, one with a plan old boring hemispherical jungle gym. All you could do with that is climb it, and what fun was that? It didn’t have interior bars– how could you possibly fix the engines? And the buttons were the wrong kind of buttons, and there weren’t enough nearby objects to scan, and so on. It was dome-shaped, not rocket-shaped, so unless you wanted to pretend it was some weak old flying saucer, you were out of luck spaceship-wise. Maybe we would eventually happen upon a way to imagine the fourth and fifth graders’ jungle gym dome into something awesome, but wouldn’t everyone be better off if my friends and I were permitted to keep using our preferred jungle gym to fix the warp core and blow up Klingons? The knowledge that I was going to lose the ship put a bit of a damper on each day we played.

Anyhow, that’s how I feel about this school year because the brain trust up at the College Board decided to ruin the AP United States History exam.

About a year into my teaching career, I realized that I wanted to teach American history in addition to (or instead of) government and economics. But we already had APUSH teachers in place, so I had to wait three years to get my shot. Loved it right off that bat. I’m probably better qualified to teach government and economics courses, because I have more coursework and credentials in those areas and because I’ve actually read those textbooks, but APUSH is certainly my favoritest of the bunch. One reason is that it’s a year long whereas my other classes get unmercifully cut off at the semester’s end. Another reason is that, being essentially a great big wonderfully elaborate story that attempts explains how we got to now and today, I find it inherently less dry than the government or economics classes. Another another reason is the multitude of viewpoints, and the endless onion-like layers of history, and that in peeling them back you’ll always find more to the story. I love it more with each passing year.

And the College Board has gone and pooched it. The upcoming school year will see the last APUSH exam administered under the current format: an even balance of writing essays and answering objective multiple-choice questions. The new format, to be administered in May of 2015, puts far more emphasis on writing– which is good– but what few multiple-choice questions remain (it’ll be less than half the number we have now) will depend mostly on how well a student can read a primary or secondary document.

Don’t get the wrong idea: utilizing information from documents is a vital skill, but the expanded essay portion will more than cover that skill. The new multiple-choice section de-emphasizes objective knowledge (i.e., knowing facts) and instead emphasizes reading skills. So if you don’t know much history, but you’re a strong reader, you’d be screwed on the current version of the exam, but you’ll do well on the new exam. The lazy but bright kids will benefit from the upcoming change.

Conversely, if you have an abundance of objective knowledge about history but you’re not as strong or as fast a reader, you might do well enough on the current version, but you’re in a lot of trouble on the new version of the test.

In short, the new test will emphasize reading skills more and historical knowledge less. It’s more of an intelligence test and less of a history test.

I followed the APUSH listservs for months after this decision was announced. There were virtually no positive comments about the changes to the exam. Granted, the squeaky wheel gets the grease, or at least the attention if not the grease, but I don’t remember seeing anyone stick up for these changes.

The new exam and course design may turn out to be fine or even better than the current exam, but it’s hard to see either of those possibilities happening. But we’re still a year out, and in the meantime, I’ll just have to enjoy smooshing as much APUSH as possible into my students’ brains.

I’ll edit tomorrow if necessary.

Answers about majoring in econ.

I contacted four of my former students regarding the questions in the previous post. Here’s what I sent them:

“A few of my students have asked about majoring in economics (what sort of careers are open to them, what sort of coursework does it entail, what sort of master’s work can it lead to, what would be an ideal minor, what if I’m not so good at math, blah blah blah). I gave them some answers, and offered to put them in touch with former students of mine who’ve majored in econ. That’s you. May I give them your email/facebook address? Or would you mind answering some of the above questions so I can pass the info along?”

And here are their responses so far:

From Former Student 1:

yeah id be happy to help them out! feel free to have them email me […] as for those questions, ill try to give general answers: Careers – Usually it depends on degree level and program. Most of the econ majors I know have gone into a variety of business positions (management, marketing, etc). The finance industry is very receptive of bachelors in econ grads. A masters and PhD degree open you up to a variety of economist positions and research analyst positions. Econ course work is becoming more mathematical, especially with new models being developed after the recession. Course work is broken down my macro, micro and mathematical econ (econometrics, math econ etc). I was terrible at math, but now I really enjoy it so im sure if a student isnt good at math, they can learn the skills (especially since its put in the econ setting which is exciting). as for the ideal minor, that usually depends on the individual’s preference. Some do political science, some statistics, some finance. It all depends on where you want to be after the program. And tell them theyre making an awesome decision if they major in economics, yet as a grad student preparing for a final tomorrow, it requires some sleepless nights, being considered the nerd on campus, and studying on Friday nights.

From Former Student 2:

Definitely! […] I’ve written some answers to some of those questions before, I’ll forward that along when I find it. Honestly, after all of my classes so far, if they want to become an economist, majoring in math and computer science is much more useful than a major in econ. A minor in econ would suffice as long as you read stuff on the side. But the most useful classes to what I’m working on currently are probability, linear algebra, and micro theory.

Forwarded answer from Former Student 2:

The following responses are more geared towards the students interested in an econ Ph.D. program and careers that result from that.

A little bit about me (so you can see my biases): Currently a Junior at [some lame university that isn’t Clemson] majoring in Mathematics and Economics with a minor in History. I started as a History and Business Econ major, after working as a research assistant (RA) and taking more math, I decided to try and become an academic and my goal is to get an economics professorship at a research university. I work as a research assistant and an undergrad TA.

Careers : What can’t be a career? You can do anything with economics. I think it’s an excellent door opener. I know people who currently work as: actuaries, investment bankers, working on econ Ph.D., and a transfer agent. Research economist, you get to become a complete expert in your niche, you’re always learning higher level stuff, the downsides include long hours, working in isolation (even when you’re part of a research group), and you need a high tolerance for setbacks and rejection.

Coursework (personally, I believe that the following list of courses will open the most doors. The following should allow you to pursue graduate level econ, grad work in any other social science, make you a very attractive job applicant, and teach you to “think like an economist.”):

  • Principles, Intermediate, and Advanced Microeconomic Theory (some schools call it Price Theory)
  • Principles and Intermediate Macroeconomic Theory. Feel free to take more macro courses if you wish, but since macro varies so much from school to school, what you learn in undergrad may very well be the polar opposite of what you end up using.
  • Econometrics
  • Game Theory
  • Math: Bare minimum: Calc I-III (don’t take business calc, I can tell you more about this if you wish since I’m a business calc TA.), linear algebra, intro to proofs, probability, statistics
  • If you want econ grad school, take the above and these: real analysis (this is the big one, if you had to take a class that wasn’t already listed above, take real analysis!!!), topology , differential equations (this stuff is trivial, it’s not necessary per se, but important enough to get mentioned) http://www.urch.com/forums/phd-economics/
  • Try not to take “Mathematical Economics,” I hear these courses tend to be watered down mathematics. See http://gregmankiw.blogspot.com/2006/05/which-math-courses.html
  • If you want law school, take the “Law and Econ” elective and ask some professors or your academic advisor about a pre-law track for econ.
  • Any class you find interesting! I believe that you should take a class with professors who are experts in their fields, ones that know what they’re doing. You can pick up a lot of stuff on your own, you can do that whenever. But you won’t have another chance to take a class with Professor XYZ if you pass up the opportunity. Plus it could lead to extremely valuable career advice and mentoring.
  • If you’re considering applied economics or economics, take some computer science courses. I don’t really have any advice on that since I haven’t taken any and everyone I know learned it on their own (they, like me, figured out that comp sci is needed for econ too late). But something on data mining, programming, and software would be helpful.

Master’s work: I personally know/have heard of students who have gone into: econ, math, computer science, physics, history, political science, public policy, law, Russian, accounting, international business, and finance.
Econ is extremely versatile.

Ideal minor: Math, Computer Science, or Econ.

What if I’m not good at math? Allow me to refer you to what I’ve been referred to several times:

Now some advice and a personal story. At Paxon I hated math and science; I was convinced I couldn’t differentiate even the most basic equations. I can pin-point the exact moment at Paxon that made me despise math (it was in Algebra II). But now, I love it! I took business calc my first semester at [some lame university that isn’t Clemson], when I was told I needed real math to become an economist I was scared. But there was no other route. Luckily my Calc 1 professor hated teaching undergrad so she made the class extremely difficult (no other Calc 1 prof wanted students to write proofs on exams!) and I saw what higher level math was like and I love it.

What I’m trying to say is that you’re probably not “not good at math,” you’re just approaching it with the wrong attitude and inefficient study habits. It’s not entirely how many hours you put into studying; it’s about how you spend those hours. Don’t be afraid to fail!

Let me close with a quote from John Maynard Keynes:

“… the master-economist must possess a rare combination of gifts. He must be mathematician, historian, statesman, philosopher–in some degree.  He must understand symbols and speak in words.  He must contemplate the particular in terms of the general, and touch abstract and concrete in the same flight of thought.  He must study the present in the light of the past for the purposes of the future.  No part of man’s nature or his institutions must lie entirely outside his regard. He must be purposeful and disinterested in a simultaneous mood; as aloof and incorruptible as an artist, yet sometimes as near the earth as a politician.”

From Former Student 3:

I’d be happy to answer those questions! […] There are a lot of careers open to Econ majors, depending on what you want to do. Yo can use it as a foundation for international relations, politics, law school – which is what I’m doing – and go in with an understanding of why and how the country runs the way it does and how the economy is so integrated with legislation. You can go on to graduate school in economics and end up doing research; I know someone who is getting a PhD in Economics, and is just doing studies with his professors, some of his recent work relates to the effects of incarceration crime rates on the economy, and the wealth gap. You can also teach, at whatever level. And economics is just knowledge that is useful always, regardless of the field you end up in. The coursework at [some other lame university that isn’t Clemson] is all I can talk about with any confidence in what I’m saying. You need to take Principles of Micro and Macro (which can be covered with AP Micro and AP Macro), Intermediate Micro and Macro – neither of which are that difficult, but that could be because I enjoy what I’m learning. And then you need to take upper division electives to complete the major requirements. There are a lot of opportunities for research or volunteering to help professors here with their research, which doesn’t necessarily have to be in Economics. A minor with Economics could be Business, or you can double major with Economics pretty easily. And it’s not that math intensive, though you will basic calculus. […] I hope what I’ve written has answered the questions, somehow at least. I hope I’ve helped at least a little!

This is why I teach: so others will write my blog posts for me.

Question about majoring in econ.

An anonymous reader writes:

I just wanted to say thank you. You and Mr. ZYXWV really sparked my interest in Economics and now in about a semester I will be done with my AA and start taking my Econ classes. I’m also very happy to read that it is a very flexible degree and one that is highly sought after by employees. Is there a minor that you would recommend me taking? I’m thinking Poli Sci. I just want to be happy in what I do and make very good money.

I passed your message along to Mr. ZYXWV, and we both thank you for your kind words. However, we could use a little bit more to go on in terms of your future plans. Is there a general field you’d like to enter, or a type of work you see yourself doing? Was your AA in business, computers, something else? Let me know via the contact page or email, and it’ll help me answer your question a little better.

In the meantime, I’ve asked some former students their thoughts on the matter (because a few of my current students have also asked about majoring in econ), and I hope to cobble together some answers for you soon.

An open letter to Mayor Emanuel.

Dear Mayor Emanuel,

Hear me out:

I currently teach in Duval County Public Schools. My base salary last year was approximately $41,000 due to having a bachelor’s degree and being in my tenth year of teaching .

The base salary of a full-time appointed teacher in a 38.6-week position in Chicago Public Schools with a bachelor’s degree and 10 years in the system was over $70,000 last year .

Your school system offered a nice raise to the teachers union, which responded by going on strike. I’ll take the union at its word that the strike is actually a response to the charter school movement and the evaluation system and so on and so forth, but still, it’s a nice raise they turned down.

With all that in mind, I make the following proposal:

Hire me to teach in one of your high schools for $70,000 per year, with whatever benefits you’d give to a tenth-year teacher. My salary will never change–not even for inflation– so that’s $70K this year, $70K five years from now, $70K ten years from now. You can use whatever evaluation system you think is “fair,” you can fire me at will, you can fire me without cause. And if I decide I made a mistake, or become unhappy with the job, or get tired of the snow, fine– I’ll quit, no harm, no foul. We’ll shake hands and that’ll be it.

Just drop me an email, and I’ll have my people talk to your people.


Vincent D. Viscariello

P.S. Perhaps “sincerely” is a bit of an overstatement since I know you’ll never read this letter or make this deal, and if you did we’d probably both end up floating in the Chicago River with dry-erase markers jammed in our eye sockets. And I’m pretty darn happy with my job down here, so even the sweet deal I proposed might not be enough to pry me away. I guess the point of all this is that it’s been way too long since some of the teachers in your city went hungry.