Sunday, June 30, 2019


I haven't posted to this space in ages, mostly because I haven't had the time. Over the past 3 years I’ve been attempting to balance work, family life, and my PhD studies in education at McGill University. All of those things are great individually, but taken together, it's too much.

In the past months I’ve done a lot of thinking about where I am and where I’m headed. This reflection was sparked by changes to how the university effectively funds its graduate students, which would negatively impact me as an international student employed outside the university. I could likely receive an exception to these requirements, but the move prompted me to reflect on other aspects of what I’m doing and where I’m headed.

One of the things that I’ve been thinking a lot about lately is what would happen when I finish my PhD. When I started this program I dreamt of landing a tenure-track job at a university. My program has trained me for such a role: that of a research and educator. Over the past year I've realized that I’d rather be a teacher at a small college. Regardless of which type of post-secondary institution I aim for, the likelihood of obtaining a position right out of grad school is relatively slim. More likely, I would have to do at least one post doc to bolster my resume and accrue the necessary experience to be able to put together a competitive application for one of the relatively few jobs out there. And there’s lots of qualified peeps! The other limiting factor for me is geographical. I love where I live, we have family here and deep roots. The more that I thought about it, I’d like to be able to find a way to do meaningful work without re-locating my family.

I was chatting with a family member this spring and they asked about my endgame. I described the possibility of working at a semi-local (~1 hour commute) college and what that might look like. This person listened to my story and then repeated back what I'd said. They noted that, to them, it sounded like the best possible outcome would be me working at a college within the SUNY system to preserve my retirement. My family member pointed out that I’d be driving at least six additional hours every week to make that happen. They then asked me if that something I really wanted to do.

At first I thought that the answer was yes, but the more I reflected on it, I don't want to spend that much time driving and being away from home. So this got me thinking – if completing my PhD is likely to require significant financial hurdles as well as doing lots of difficult (but fulfilling!) work that would require me to carve out time away from my family, and the position I get in the end might not be the best fit for us – why am I doing this? 

To me there are two answers. The first response is that I’m interested in the work, I enjoy it, and it needs to be done. The second answer, if I'm being honest with myself, is ego. I’d like to be able to say that I did this really difficult thing and that I contributed to the field in an important way.

The story I've been telling myself for so long is that doing a PhD is important and that it's worth everything I'm putting myself and my family through. I've been questioning that since I talked to my family member. When I mentioned this conversation to my wife, she admitted the same thing: this has been rough. When I voiced my doubts about moving forward, she echoed the exact same sentiments and asked if there were other ways I might be able to effect change.

Two recent developments interactions have shown me that I have the power to do more in my current role. The first revelation came from an exchange with a scholar working at an R1 university who visited my classroom. They were surprised by the depth of the connections that I had with my students. They told me that they don’t have those kind of deep conversations with their students and that they don’t know them that well. In that moment I realized that getting to know my students is something that I really value. From my previous leave of absence, I know that I missed working with students dearly, and somehow never imagined that it might be the norm if I moved to a post-secondary setting. The other significant development is that over the past three years I’ve become involved with the underrepresentation curriculum project (, both with my physics students and as an editor. Over the past year I’ve had a couple of opportunities to do work and present on behalf of our collaboration. This has been really powerful – the conversations are never perfect, but being able to make a difference and being recognized for my experience has been a revelation. This makes me feel that being "just" a high school teacher is far from the end of the world, and I’m optimistic that I can find ways to effect change in significant ways without a PhD.

As you can probably get by this point, here is the decision: I’m withdrawing from my PhD program. It’s in the best interest of my family, who have long had to put up with me disappearing for long chunks of time to write and wandering around in a zombie-like state due to staying up late. I can always return to the PhD in the future. Maybe down the road I’ll have more time to devote to it, but for now I'm more than happy to bring all I learned in the PhD program back to my classroom. I’ll be forever thankful for what I learned from my supervisor Allison Gonsalves. I also learned tons from the professors and my fellow graduate students at McGill. Also, thanks to the folks at Saranac Lake Central School District, who have been incredibly accommodating in giving me the space to do this work. Finally, I couldn’t do this without the support my family, I am so excited to have more time to hang out with y’all!

Look for (slightly) more frequent blog posts in the future. Thanks for listening!


Tuesday, August 28, 2018

Addressing under-representation in physics

While reading a recent edition of the Gazette (, which is published by APS, three quotations resonated with me.

"If our field [physics] is to attract the best minds and retain the best minds, then we must create environments that individuals with the best minds want to join and continue to support" (Cochran & Scarlett, 2018).

"We are here for the love of the field, but often the field does not love us back... We need to stop thinking that STEM lives in isolation... Our ignorance, or lack of interest, in social construction is no longer an excuse." (Ximena, 2018)

"The goal of creating diversity and inclusion in the field of physics will not be accomplished
by only increasing numbers of individuals from different social and cultural backgrounds or marginalized groups. Inclusiveness is generated by welcoming and providing a safe place to allow uncomfortable discussions that challenge the existing state of affairs" (Adenola, 2018).

Taken together, these works eloquently align with my thinking on these issues. Reading these scholars' work prompted me to put some of my beliefs in writing. They are:

0) The under-representation of non-dominant groups in physics is a massive problem (obviously).

1) The lack of people from particular backgrounds in physics is not the fault of individuals, but rather points to pervasive problems with the culture of physics itself.

2) Adding more folks who identify with under-represented groups to physics is unlikely to do any good, as the problem is with the culture which is (re)produced & (re)created by the dominant bloc within physics: White, heterosexual, able-bodied, middle class men (full disclosure- I fit this description of an insider).

3) The best way we have so far identified to create changes in classroom cultures of physics is to have explicit conversations about under-representation with students. I believe that such conversations help to both produce new cultures of physics which are more inclusive and equitable, and also helps students reimagine "who" is capable of doing physics.

4) Insiders such as myself need to lead the charge to change physics. Not because we know the first thing about how people who identify with non-dominant groups experience physics (we don't know jack), but because it's our culture that is the problem.

These beliefs have led me to the under-representation curriculum, which I am honored to be a part of. We're a group of folks working to create and distribute a modular curriculum that teachers can use to facilitate the sorts of conversations about under-representation described above. Check it out at: or follow #UnderRepSyllabus on twitter.

More to come- stay tuned!

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Switching it up

This year I started my class differently than I ever have before. We did the same goofy opening day exercises and name game that I always do, but I didn't hand out a syllabus. Instead I told my Financial Math students that we'd get to it the next day. This was an experiment of sorts- since it was my first time teaching the course and I only had one section of the class, I thought that we would try something different based on what I'd learned in my graduate courses about giving students a more active role in their learning (e.g. Basu, Barton, Clairmont, & Locke, 2009; Seiler & Gonsalves, 2010)

The following day I still didn't hand out a syllabus. Instead we started a conversation as a class about what we wanted to get out of the class. We talked about potential topics and skills that students were interested in (generally being able to manage their finances and make educated financial decisions in the real world). Once the broad goals of the course had been decided, we turned to how we were going to structure the course and began outlining a syllabus as a group.

Over the next few days we talked about what would constitute evidence of learning and how I could best quantify their performance (given that I am required to enter a numerical grade for each student every 5 weeks, this is inescapable). Together we came up with a list of how I could assess their learning: homework, weekly quizzes, end of chapter tests, occasional projects, and class participation. Then we decided on how much each category should be weighted. This was an insightful moment for me- the discussion about what matters more and what is "easier" to get was fascinating. The students tended to weight tests more than I would have otherwise, and wanted less emphasis on class participation than I would have assigned working on my own. I kept my mouth shut for the most part during this portion of the discussion and we ended up with a weighting that we could all agree on. 

The students also recognized that homework was necessary to practice their skills, but they didn't want it to be due every day. I agreed to this instantly and their jaws dropped; I don't think they expected that pitch to be successful! We decided on homework due twice a week - Wednesdays and Fridays- and no homework due right after a weekend. Also, as with previous courses, I make homework solutions available so that students can check their work and make sure they're on the right track rather than just become frustrated about their inability to solve a problem. I could share more details about the discussions we had, but this should be sufficient for now.

In effect we spend 2+ class periods ironing out the syllabus and how we wanted the class to look. After we finished our discussions, I went away and typed up my notes into a draft syllabus, which we reviewed as a class and then made final adjustments. This whole process felt a bit strange coming from other courses where I am perpetually pinched for time, but at this point in the year I can honestly say that it was some of the most productive time I have ever spent with students. Not only did it send a strong message to the students that they were going to be actively involved in the execution of the course, but it also set the tone for the entire year. And on the rare occasion when students complain about the course policies, they are met by their peers who call them out on not chiming in when they had the chance to craft them firsthand. Or, for students who entered the class late (more than 25% of the class joined more than 10 weeks into the year, but that's a story for another time), the message is quite different from what a syllabus conveys in a more conventional course. For example, in the past I might have handed a new student the syllabus and said something about it containing my expectations for the course. This year the students are told "this syllabus explains the way we decided to do things in this class." It's a subtle change, but a powerful one.

I'm far from the only teacher to do this, even in my school. Another teacher who has multiple sections of the same course goes through a similar process with each section. That sounds complicated to me, but I can clearly see the value in it. I don't think I can ever go back to handing out a syllabus I wrote on the first day or school- it's become clear to me this year that such an action runs counter to the goals of my teaching. It took a leap of faith for me to see this though, and I hope that by hearing about my experiences you might be emboldened to take such a leap for yourself.

Basu, S. J., Barton, A. C., Clairmont, N., & Locke, D. (2009). Developing a framework for critical science agency through case study in a conceptual physics context. Cultural Studies of Science Education, 4(2), 345–371.
Seiler, G., & Gonsalves, A. J. (2010). Student-Powered Science: Science Education for and by African American Students. Equity & Excellence in Education, 43(1), 88–104.

Friday, February 3, 2017

Giving voice and taking action

I feel lucky to be sitting here today writing this post. I'm buried in work and exhausted after a grueling day of class and a long drive home last night on snowy roads, but at least the barriers I faced over the past 48 hours were of my own making. I should probably be reading or writing, but on the other hand this needs to be said. And more importantly, I need to say it.

As I waited at the border last night to come back into the US, I began to get nervous. I've never had problems at the border, but things have changed over the last week. There were 4 cars in line. I didn't see what happened to the first one- I had put my car in park and was trying to get my voyzer app set to play the next pdf (if you drive a lot and have pdf's to read- it's a solid investment). The second car in line was sent back to Canada. The third car was sent for secondary inspection after a long exchange with the agent. I pulled up and wasn't sure what to expect. Within two minutes I was on my way home without a fuss. Was it my Nexus card? Study permit? The fact that I cross the border so frequently that I recognize many of the agents from previous interactions? Or did it have something to do with the color of my skin and the way I speak?

Yesterday I came into contact with a wide range of people from different places, which is one of the best things about McGill. In a single day I personally interacted with Canadians (of course), and Americans, but also people from Colombia, Taiwan, Saudi Arabia, Iran, Pakistan, Argentina, Brussels, India, Japan, and China. And those are just the homelands of people I know.

Two of my professors not only acknowledged the recent events that have caused distress for many students, but also provided space and time for a discussion. This meant the world to me- more and more I get the feeling that I am doing exactly the right thing in a place that is perfect for pushing me in the directions I need to go. Looking back I cannot imagine how my day would have gone without having had those opportunities, while recognizing that these conversations might not have happened at different institutions.

During these discussions I learned that my peers experience much of the horror, frustration, and fear that I do, but also that they are determined to fight against the forces that pull our world further toward racism, oppression, and violence. I learned that classmates had been urged by their families to abandon their studies and return home while they could still travel. Others have been forced to curtail their activities and modify their lifestyles to avoid putting themselves in harm's way. Collectively we struggle to console each other during these dark times, but I was heartened by the incredible sharing of experiences that were terribly painful. They strongly affected me and increased my resolve to take action.

I was urged yesterday to do what I can to resist in whatever way possible. That is why I write this post today. I am not from one of the countries affected by the illegal travel ban. I am not Muslim. I am not female, nor do I have colored skin. I am the veritable epitome of heterosexual white male privilege, and I today I use this privilege today to share experiences of others with an audience that they are unlikely to reach. I write today in confidence that I am not alone in how I feel about recent events and how they have affected people who have done nothing to deserve such horrible treatment.

I encourage all of you who happen to read this to act in whatever capacity you can. Share this post, talk to people who have different world views, sign a petition, attend a rally, stand in a vigil, point out propaganda when you see it- whatever you can do, please resist. For those of us with privilege, resistance takes effort but is unlikely to cause lasting damage. This is not the case for many, and because of our position in this world we must act.

Thursday, October 6, 2016


Good day intrepid readers! For those of you who are wondering how my new gig is going, it's a bit like this: Reading, reading, and more reading, followed by lots of writing, then some driving while thinking about the readings. Repeat.
Not graduate work- can't forget to go play!
Seriously though, it's good. I feel like I finally have a breather- not from work, of course, I'm still wicked busy- but rather a breather in the sense that I finally have a chance to step back from the everyday life of a teacher to look at my actions and how they affect student learning. It's a really rich process to go through, and I realize that one of the biggest problems today for many teachers is that they're so busy and overworked that they never get the chance to see the big picture. For example, maybe it's not that critical that you get the next worksheet formatted just right or that you select the perfect question for a test, but rather the next thing you say to a student when you're in the middle of a discussion.

I'm working with some really neat folks. The DISE faculty are awesome, and hearing my fellow doctoral cohort mates introduce themselves during our first seminar was incredible. They're working on such cool stuff that it's impossible not to be stoked just being around them. I've already had more opportunities to practice my rusty Spanish than I've had in ages- and with native speakers no less! I've also been hanging around a bit with the SALTISE research group, which is doing some incredible things with technology.

Mad props to LaTeX as always, started using BibLaTeX and it's slick, especially when paired with Zotero.

I'd like to close by saying thanks to my former students for coming up with some many great Pandora stations. Whenever I feel like my options are getting stale, I open up one of the random creations we listened to during class. Right now I'm on the Superman station (classical scores), but earlier today I was jamming to Caravan Palace. And though this might be sacrilege to my AP students, I haven't touched the smooth jazz station yet- I'm keeping the big guns in reserve!

Friday, July 22, 2016

Social Justice in the Physics Classroom

In the spring of 2015 I read a series of blog posts about teaching social justice in physics classes. At the time I wasn't in a position to implement it (the NYS Regents exam in physics doesn't leave a ton of space for extra topics, particularly when using the Modeling curriculum as I do). This year however, I wanted to do something special with my AP Class after their exam. We had a brainstorming session and were throwing around ideas for fun projects. A rube goldberg machine, battle bots, etc. Then I added social justice to the list.

The students wanted to know what I meant. I told them that I was interested in discussing race in physics. The students immediately wanted to know what I meant, and I turned it back to them and asked what came to mind when I mentioned the topic. One was pretty sure that she/he knew, but was hesitant to share it with the class until I pushed and said that there was no wrong answer. She/he finally spit it out: "I think that when you say race in physics you mean that black people are affected by gravity differently than white people are." That statement sealed the deal- we were definitely doing this!

A quick aside: Saranac Lake High School is a public school in northern New York. We have lots of socio-economic diversity, but very little racial diversity. Roughly 1% of the student population is black, and another 1-2% is hispanic or native american. The school is 97% white. These figures aren't official, just wanted to give you a rough idea of the composition of the student body. My own background in Physics Education Research has focused primarily on gender issues. So why did I implement a unit on blacks in physics rather than females? For several reasons:

1. My physics classes have plenty of gender diversity- nearly always 50/50 split between genders. They achieve at different levels (as indicated by normalized conceptual gains- on average males surpass females and underclassmen exceed seniors), but at least they see students of other genders sitting next to them in class. The lack of racial diversity in our student body means that it is much less likely that my students will see a significant number of people of different racial backgrounds in their physics class.

2. I feel that there is momentum building behind the issue of blacks choosing to study physics that could lead to meaningful change down the line. The least I can do is expose my students to a different perspective to help support this movement. (Moses' article was one of the most popular articles published by The Physics Teacher this year)

3. Moses' curriculum was established and had been through several years of refinement. He was incredibly helpful and willing to share. As a teacher trying to juggle a million things, I can't deny that this made implementing the curriculum way easier than it would have been to starting from the ground up on my own.

4. Black lives matter. Period.

So what did I do for the social justice curriculum? I followed Moses' outline and modified his lessons to fit the time we had. The student completed pre- and post-attitudinal tests and wrote nightly journal entries after completing assigned readings. I didn't read the entries- just checked to be sure that they were done. If you're interested in more details, I'll be happy to share more about what I did- just ask. However, I'm not writing this blog post to talk about what I did, but rather to talk about the impact it had.

This was an incredibly powerful experience for my students. The idea of stereotype threat possibly affecting scores on standardized tests hit them like a sledgehammer, especially because BEFORE starting their AP exams just weeks before they'd been asked questions about their gender and racial background. Many other ideas hit home too- especially the Implicit Association Tests and the idea of White Privilege (Macklemore). We also had interesting discussions about statistics and how people measure participation rates- one student attempted to generate statistics on their own using rosters of sports teams at community colleges and it was a god learning experience.

Did I implement the curriculum perfectly? Nope.

Did I maximize every opportunity to create powerful discussions? No.

Was I well-organized? Meh- I tried.

Do I think this unit is worthwhile? Absolutely, unequivocally, enthusiastically- YES!

If you're reading this, you should try it out in your physics or math class. Set aside a few days and dive in. It won't be perfect, or easy, but it's critical that we begin to have these tough conversations so that our students open their eyes.

I'll leave you with a paraphrased quote from a student:

This may have been the most important unit from the entire year. It might even be the most meaningful thing I have learned about in high school.

AP Calculus Final Projects

After the AP calculus test we learn some new material (L'Hopital's rule and integration by parts) and then the students complete a final project. They run the gamut from real-life related rates problems (including data) to illustrations of scenarios to 3-D printing of solids produced by revolutions. I love this time of year and the students produced excellent work. This year two groups produced raps related to calculus, this is the more polished of the two:

Mike drop. 'Nuff said.