The ACE Post

Born and raised in San Francisco, I left home at 13 to attend a unique boarding high school in Southern California, after which I found my way to the University of Notre Dame. As an undergrad, I majored in the Program of Liberal Studies, which I like to describe as a major devoted to the study of ideas, specifically those ideas which have shaped the history of the Western World and lie hidden in the Great Books. We started with Homer's Iliad and advanced at breakneck speed to finish with Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man, four years and 81+ major texts later. Midway through all that, I hopped across the pond to spend my junior year studying English Literature and rowing at the University of Oxford, New College.

When I wasn't buried in books, I was learning about the world in more immediate ways—mostly through service of all kinds. With the support of the Hesburgh-Yusko Scholars Program, I spent the summer after my freshman year at a Children's Home and Hospice in rural South Africa, and returned the next summer to intern with Educo Africa, an NGO which leads backpacking trips for at-risk youth in the mountains north of Cape Town. During the school year in South Bend, I volunteered with Triple C, a rock climbing and outdoor program for youth; Reins of Life, a therapeutic horseback riding program for mentally and physically disabled youth; Imani Unidad, an HIV/AIDS Prevention, Education and Advocacy Center; and Take Ten, an anti-violence program for youth at the Center for the Homeless.

Which just about brings us to the present moment: the beginning of my two years teaching English at Tampa Catholic High School in Tampa, FL. Grateful for all the wisdom and guidance I received during my first ACE Summer, I am excited to be in a classroom of my own, teaching freshmen and juniors. And you know what's pretty cool? My young freshmen are starting right where I did, with Homer, and it's equal parts bizarre and exhilarating to watch the journey happen from the other side.

I'm also excited to be helping coach the girls' lacrosse team at TC, a school where I've been told "sports are king." Go Crusaders!

I was born and raised in St. Louis, Missouri, but attended the University of Notre Dame for my undergraduate studies. I majored in Political Science and minored in both International Peace Studies and Education, Schooling, and Society.

While at Notre Dame, I was actively involved in my dorm (Siegfried Ramblers!) and participated in service opportunities through the Center for Social Concerns. The most formative of these opportunities was my time working was a counselor at Bay Cliff Health Camp, an intensive therapy camp for children with disabilities. I was also involved in Campus Ministry, serving as a small group retreat leader and a Sophomore Road Trip coordinator. I also studied in London for a semester, where I interned for a member of the British Parliament's House of Commons. During my senior year, I served as an intern for the Alliance for Catholic Education.

Now I am in my second year as a teacher through the ACE Teaching Fellows Program. I live in the St. Petersburg, FL community and teach 4th grade at Sacred Heart Catholic School in Pinellas Park. While at Sacred Heart, I have coached middle school girls volleyball, basketball, and soccer; provided small-group math tutoring; assisted in the school's reaccreditation process; and developed and led an overnight eighth grade retreat. Go Sacred Heart Saints!

As a Montana native and graduate of Gonzaga University in Spokane, Washington, community, spirituality, and solidarity have stood as three guiding pillars of my life's experience. As a Zag, the philosophy of servant leadership led me to service in Residence Life, University Ministry, and the coordination of several alternative Spring Break service immersion opportunities.

The call to educate and inspire our Church and nation's youth has since brought me to Petersburg, Virginia, through the Masters in Education program of the University of Notre Dame's Alliance for Catholic Education. In addition to serving as the Middle School Science instructor at All Saints Catholic School in Richmond, Virginia, I will also be teaching several courses in mathematics. I eagerly await the opportunity to grow into this vibrant community and contribute to our school and program's Mission.

According to my diploma, I became a Master of Education on Saturday, May 17, 2014. I hardly noticed. I spent May 17 as I have spent most Saturdays for the past two years: rising early for a run, grading papers, creating lesson plans, writing tests, responding to parent emails, and perhaps remembering to do household chores. In my life as a teacher, there was nothing particularly special about May 17.

At a beautiful ceremony on July 12, 2014, I actually received my diploma, and, once again, the experience was shockingly anticlimactic. Although it is nice to know that I have “so well merited as to be proclaimed publicly and solemnly a Master of Education,” this piece of parchment somehow does not quite capture the fullness of the ACE experience. But if the ACE Teaching Fellows program is not just about the advertised M.Ed., then what was all of that work for?

I found my answer not on the diploma, but in the people and events leading up to ACE’s commencement ceremony. On Friday, Joe Augustinsky spoke to our ACE 19 cohort and explained the ACE experience in terms of physics: just as the molecules in a mirror “shake up” the light they receive and reflect back new beams, ACE transforms its teachers such that they shed a new sort of light for the world. The life of an ACE teacher is truly “shaken up” in every possible way. ACErs live hundreds of miles from home, build a community out of strangers, embrace an unfamiliar culture, embark on a new profession, and learn to cope with the countless responsibilities of a Catholic schoolteacher.

Why would we sign up for such a crazy adventure? For me, this willingness to be “shaken” has to do with Jesus’ proclamation that “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13). The distance and unfamiliarity, the hours spent writing lesson plans and grading papers, and the formidable challenges of first-year teaching are all ways that we lay down our lives and allow ourselves to be “shaken.” But why? We do this, Jesus says, for our friends – our students, communities, and the Catholic schools that we serve.

By offering my own life up to be “shaken,” I found love in countless ways: in the wonder of my students, the hugs of my colleagues, and the laughter of my community members. When ACE 19 gathered for our Commencement Retreat, we rejoiced in the friendships we had formed over the past two years of sharing in the “shakenness.” As I have witnessed the great love of my students, colleagues, community, and cohort, I hope that I, too, have learned how to love.

This is what we celebrated on July 12: giving up our lives to be “shaken” so that we can reflect a greater love in return. The M.Ed. is just a bonus.

There is an adage that goes like this— patience is a virtue. My mother always told me this as a child, because I had the tendency to rush things, or to insist that things were done when I wanted them done. "Patience is a virtue," those words would return to me when I asked for the hundredth time, "well, when is it going to be done? When will it happen?" Whatever it was, I wanted it, or I wanted it to happen much sooner rather than later. But I became a teacher...

Teaching is a profession in which you are constantly reminded that you may not see the fruits of your labor until 10 or 20 years down the road, when your first student comes back to you after having graduated from college and thanks you for teaching reading the way you did. In this first year of teaching, however, I have seen such growth and change in my students. I have seen such growth and change in my own skills and abilities that has made me reexamine what patience looks like, and how long is necessary to wait to see great change occur.

Students come to me on a daily basis with the same questions, similar issues, seemingly unchanging ways, but these are merely at the surface of life. Every day that one interacts with students— so malleable and ephemeral, a change is made. This change is slow and steady, yet it is undoubtedly occurring. Depending on what I emphasize with each student, whether their academics or their social skills, tiny shifts are being made in their spectrums. As we work on math daily, their computation and reasoning skills improve. As we emphasize and practice socio-emotional behavior management, their empathy and efficacy are heightened. The same children who came into my classroom at the beginning of the year moody, discontent, or disenfranchised are growing into level-headed, proactive, independent thinkers. This effect is incredible to see right before my eyes, as I remember many of my students' 'former selves.'

To say that this is the result of anything other than the miraculous work of Christ (in all instances), and a little bit of long-stretched patience would be untrue. Having the patience to practice and reteach math to some students, and the patience to remind my students of Christ-like choices has been my task. Having the patience to stay steadfast in the work toward completion of these tasks has made all of the difference. "When I was a child, spoke like a child, I thought as a child; but when I became an adult, I put away childish things..." (1 Cor. 13:11 ESV). For me, impatience was a mark of my youth. As I had never seen anything so gradually but truly come to a different form through careful, patient, and tedious effort, I never really understood what patience provided, nor what it looked like. With my students, I have seen the careful work they have done, and through the patient effort I have put forth as well, together, we have made great change in all of ourselves. The greatest lesson I learned this year was that patience is a virtue.

Tweet: Wooo.

My favorite Gospel passage is John 13: 1 – 15, which is read at Holy Thursday Mass. This is the story of Jesus eating the Paschal Meal with his disciples and washing their feet as the supper was ending. His loving gesture was unexpected, and Peter refuses the offer but relents after a reprimand.  When Jesus finishes the washing, he instructs that he has given them an example they all should follow. This teaching shows Jesus as a servant leader.

Let me explain what servant leadership means—and how I have seen it done countless times in classrooms by ACE teachers.

Mary is a 3^rd grade teacher and has had an impact on how reading is taught, not only in her school but also in other schools in her diocese. She has 24 students and has developed individualized reading plans for each student. This is difficult to do because it takes time to assess each student’s reading level and then spend quality time with each individual while the other 23 students work on their own reading. It’s a minor miracle.

Mary and her reading program present an example of servant leadership. She is paying attention to each individual student by assessing their reading level and then teaching them. It is not what Mary wants, but what the student needs in order to progress in reading skills. The individual attention shows the students Mary cares about them. 

Bob is a high school Math teacher who inspires students by the enthusiasm and energy he brings into the classroom. He realizes that many students dislike Math. They may have a poor background in it and refuse to work at it. So from the first meeting with a Math class and every day that follows, Bob conveys the message that “Math is beautiful.”

His students realize he generously gives encouragement and hope to everybody. He spends extra time outside of the class with struggling students and makes them feel good about their prospects for learning Math. One student remarks, “I will not become a Math major, but I am not afraid of it anymore.” Bob teaches his students that Math is beautiful and, even more importantly, they are beautiful.

Mary and Bob are servant leaders, with the approach Jesus teaches us when he washes the feet of the disciples. The lesson for teachers is to see the face of God in each student and to realize that a teacher’s life is about focusing on his or her students. This is easy to say, but difficult to put into practice.

We have an example from Christ the Teacher. He teaches by what he does for his disciples—and for us. Let Jesus wash your feet. Then go and do the same for those you are called to serve.

In this photo essay, Rachel Hamilton gives us an inside look at a day in the life of an ACE teacher. From an early start to the day, to the busy hours in the classroom, to the joy of living in community, Rachel takes us hour by hour through her "normal" day.

I wake up on good mornings at 6:45am so that I can be at school at 7:30 at the latest. On struggle mornings, I wake up at 5:00am or earlier to catch up on work, grades, planning, and other things. While my school day begins at 8:00am, the amount of things that must go on well before then in preparation for the school day is numerous;  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Students usually come to visit my classroom before the first bell, so one of my first duties is to be mentor, friend, or mom before the day begins. From the time I walk in the doors of my small, urban, Oakland Catholic school, until the time I lock my classroom and leave, there is always some task to be accomplished— some small group to manage, some bulletin board to fix, or piece of litter to clean up, or recess duty to run, or lunch to heat up, or bathroom to patrol, or lesson to fix, plan, tweak or teach, or child to hug. A day in the life of the first year teacher is incredibly busy, but satisfying and wonderful all at the same time. Most of our schools are categorized as urban or under-resourced or both, but I have found that my school community, despite having little, is rich in love and support from faculty, staff, and parents. I am blessed to be in such a tough situation, but such a supportive one.

By 9:00am, I have already explicitly or implicitly taught such concepts as grammar, writing, and reading strategies, as well as social skills, manners, and community-building. This is done by our morning meetings and daily oral language, which welcome students into the classroom. Also by this time, I have given near 100 compliments for the simplest things— sitting quietly, straightening up a mess, starting to make a poor choice but then visibly restraining oneself, et cetera. Kids are constant work, but in such a rewarding way.

By lunchtime, I have taught grammar, math, reading, writing, maybe a little science, we have said prayer, had a motivational talk from our principal. My students have gone to recess, maybe done yoga (on Mondays and Fridays), maybe had music (on Tuesdays and Fridays), and possibly even done some painting or art. No wonder teachers are such multi-taskers, and so tired on Friday! But this is all in a day’s work.

By the end of the school day, my students have (hopefully) been exposed to the 7 major content areas, and been able to dabble in art, physical education, music and team projects. If this sounds like a lot, it's because it is. In the moment, one is miraculously given the energy to do all of these things with a mere iPhone stopwatch, 20 pencils, and 21 malleable minds.

This is my day, every day (except on Saturdays and Sundays, on which the list of things “to-do” is unending, so the work occurs differently). At the end of every night, I have taught some concept that I am proud of, gotten a surprise from a student, given a ridiculous amount of hugs and high fives, talked/Skyped with my family, gone for a run in our neighborhood, laughed with my roommates, filled our kitchen with smoke from searing veggies for dinner, gorged on sweets for dessert, finished or pushed off some ACE coursework (sorry!) and thanked God for the life that I am currently leading. This is a day in my life as a first-year teacher. I wonder if this sounds familiar to my fellow first years?

Dear All Former and Current Great teachers,

Let me begin by expressing gratitude for all you do. The many great teachers I have had deserve more than a thank-you. They were great because of the qualities they shared. As different as they were in terms of teaching style, voice, subject matter, and presence, they were all patient, intelligent, caring, curious, determined, and above all forgiving. I think what really makes a good teacher is not the ability to encompass all of the aforementioned qualities at once, but the willingness to strive to practice them every single day.

Some of the greatest moments I shared with teachers were after school during tutoring sessions or during the five minutes after class in which they entertained questions about lecture. Not once did they make me feel bad for not understanding subject matter. They were happy to develop my own understanding and were always patient with me. They showed interest in the content they were teaching even when we did not (sorry, Ms. Lewis, but I still have little interest in Shakespeare). They were forgiving when we talked in class or when we were out of line. I never met a great teacher that met me daily with anything less than a positive attitude, even after I had detention for talking in class the day prior. The effort those teachers showed was always appreciated.

Teachers held a special place in our household growing up. I remember my mother cutting fresh roses and carnations from her garden throughout spring so that I could give them to my teachers in appreciation for all they did. My parents worked hard to build our discipline when it came to school work and they raised us to respect our teachers even if it meant we did not agree with them. To all the teachers that receive flowers, or sweets, or gift cards, know that it is a sign of appreciation. Your drive and concern for fellow humans makes you great.

Sincerely,
Mr. Sigala

(Great teacher in the making)

In ACE, again and again, you hear the phrase "You know you're a teacher when..." Sometimes this statement is completed with things like...

"...when you get school supplies for Christmas."

"...when you use your college degree to figure out the most efficient way to staple papers."

"...when your fingers are consistently blue, black, or green from overhead markers."

"...when you are asleep before 9:00 on a Friday."

These things are often humorous. We laugh at our extreme work schedules, or the strange things our jobs sometimes call us to do (resolving extensive, week-long disputes over pencils, participating in lively debates regarding precisely what "dark-colored" socks means).

Really, though, it isn't the small hardships or adjustments in schedule or habits that make us teachers. Just a few weeks ago, I felt more like a teacher than I have in the past year and a half.

Every six weeks, my students are required to take computerized reading and math tests. These tests show us how much our students have grown over the course of the school year. Occasionally they go well, but often they do not: kids did not get the practice they needed, or maybe they get distracted during testing. When I most recently assessed my students, the growth was astonishing: some students had already experienced nine months of reading growth. Others had grown a year, two years, and three years.

I have no idea what happened or what pieces finally came together, but I couldn't contain my joy. In fact, I did not even wait to show the kids their scores. As I called the students back one by one, the reactions varied. Some kids were elated and asked me to e-mail their parents who would not believe the kids' reporting. Others simply nodded and returned to their desks. 

The lack of reaction did not faze me, though. I do not do this to get validation from Middle Schoolers (thank goodness).

At professional development seminars and other teaching events, we are reminded again and again that teaching has a larger hold on our way of life than many professions. This is true. But it is not spending weekends planning and grading; it is not shopping for over-the-top holiday outfits to make kids smile; it is not gazing dreamily at packs of multi-colored pens in office supply stores that makes me feel like a teacher.

What makes me feel like a teacher is the fact that spurts of personal and academic growth for kids that are not mine, and have no relation to me brings me truer and more lasting joy than a few extra hours of sleep, or marker-free fingers, or pre-stapled papers.

"Good character, but loosen up a little bit. You've got the professional side of your character down, but you need to make her a little friendlier. Combine the business of Juror 4 with the party of Juror 7. You're the mullet of the jury."

-Mr. Augustinsky (Me!)

It is currently well into the season for the Spring Drama Production at Tampa Catholic and I am spending my afternoons turning 12 happy high schoolers into 12 Angry Jurors (12 Angry Men might be more familiar, but it is not as appropriate when only three of your jurors are male). We have been through the pre-audition process, then auditions, then callbacks, then casting, and now I am directing my actors in their blocking and discovering their character. At least an hour is dedicated everyday afterschool and that time commitment is only going to go up the closer we get to April 4. My life would be so much easier if I wasn't moderating drama club. But it would be nowhere near as fun.

Something beautiful happens when students begin performing: they stop caring about what other people think of them and they just are. Sometimes it takes pretending to be other people to learn to be ourselves. Whoever was the first person to say "theatre is the shy man's revenge" hit the nail on the head. Students who never talk in class suddenly come alive on the stage and show the world their true colors. And I love it. Isn't producing smart, confident young adults what education is all about?

The above picture is what my classroom looks like when 4:30 rolls around every day. After having done battle with inelastic collisions and mole calculations and density comparisons, the markers and white board finally give in to the creative outpouring that is thrown upon them. It is a mess and the desks are everywhere. But am I angry? Nah...I've got 12 Angry Jurors for that. I'm content being 1 Happy Teacher.

It is easy to see Christ in your students when you look at their innocent, smiling faces.

It is more difficult to see that they are Christ-filled when they do mean things to each other purposefully.

It is easy to hear the God that dwells in their temples, their bodies, when kind, sweet words are flowing from their mouths.

It is more difficult to hear the words of Christ over childhood taunting chants that sometimes take place on the playground.

It is easy to taste the savor of Christ in the small piece of a meal your student offers you when they see that you worked through your lunch break.

It is more difficult to ignore the bad taste left in one's mouth from an argument between students over things you know do not matter in the long run.

It is easy to smell the sweet fragrance of gentle Christ when your students wiggle close to you at carpet reading time.

It is more difficult to ignore an attitude your students have toward Christ that comes from not knowing him personally.

It is easy to feel God's presence in your students when they are infectious in their enthusiasm for life and learning.

Finding Christ in my students is a challenge, yet a challenge in which I have my confidence daily renewed. Little boys and little girls yell, and shriek, and jump, and cry, and tattle, and lie, and apologize... this is what makes us teachers frustrated at times, and this is what necessitates that we teachers love them. Our students are beautifully complex and honest in these ways.

It is easy to say that God lives in each and every one of our students— it is difficult to realize that actions they take and choices they make can either draw out Christ's nature for the world to see, or rather dampen the light of God that can shine in them. Yet and still, I see, I hear, I feel and I know the love of God and the Christ that lives in my students. "No one has seen God at any time... [but] if we love one another, God abides in us [...] and we abide in Him..." (1 John 4:12-13, NKJV). In this way, though I haven't seen God Himself, I come face to face with Christ every day— by looking at my students, by hugging them, even when they resolve a conflict. Even that is when and where we all can find Christ in our students. But know this: just because we can't "find Him" always, He is never lost in them, He never leaves them; we as teachers, as parents, as role models, as adults, just need to search for that light in those children and keep it at the forefront of our memory and our view of them.

I love ACE!

I love that we are celebrating 20 years of the Alliance for Catholic Education by the bus tour! It is a wonderful opportunity to witness how the vision of Fathers Tim Scully and Sean McGraw has been put into action to support and sustain Catholic schools. This work has sent thousands of young men and women to go forth and make God known, loved and served in under-resourced Catholic schools throughout the United States.

When I think of how ACE began and how Catholic school leaders were asked to take a big leap of faith to collaborate with Notre Dame on this idea, I believe that ACE is the work of the Holy Spirit.

I love talking to undergraduate students about ACE and inviting them to consider the ACE Teaching Fellows opportunity after graduation. I was talking to a student recently, and she had a big question that tells us something about what ACE is about and what it calls upon teachers to do. It was a simple question that Mary asked: “Does an ACE teacher get to visit the school they will teach in before they make a commitment?”

This question reflected the first challenge that a new teacher faces. They do not get to choose the city or the school where they will teach. They are sent forth to teach where there is a need. And that is only the beginning of the many conversions that occur. They do not get to choose the people they will be living in community with, either. They do not choose their principals, faculty members, or students.

It is difficult to not choose. It takes faith to say “yes” to this invitation. But when I reflect on ACE, from the very beginning 20 years ago to today, this experience is very similar to every invitation Jesus gave men and women to come and follow him. Jesus called Peter and Andrew and James and John to follow him. He told the rich young man to “sell what he had and give it to the poor and come follow him.” Jesus calls everyone to come and follow him. This is the vision, inspired by the Holy Spirit, which Fathers Tim and Sean had.

Mary, the student who asked the first question, asked another one: “What is the end result of all of these little conversions?”

My response is that Mary and everyone who says yes to ACE get to follow Christ, learn how to love unconditionally and change the world one student at a time. I think that is pretty great.

In high school I was a theater kid. To this day, I remember some of the great moments of anticipation waiting behind the curtain for the next entrance, sometimes hastily throwing off one costume and squirming into another. In particular, I remember one show my senior year in which I had to change costumes several times back stage. One of them was an absolutely beautiful, very tight, backless 1930's style wedding dress that was exceptionally hard to put on. But I was an expert of the quick-change. This was nothing. In fact, the race against time to get the dress on and the microphone set before the music began was one of the most exciting parts of the show.

My first year of ACE, I saw each day as a series of quick changes: from stern teacher to jovial mentor to roommate to cultured resident of a new city to explorer. It was overwhelming. I was changing pace too many times, and everything was a costume. As fun as anticipation can be in short bursts, for me, it is certainly not a lifestyle. I also got very confused when suddenly the different areas of my life overlapped: it was like being caught onstage in the wrong outfit, or even in the wrong show.

Being an ACE teacher is an experience which cannot be compartmentalized: it is not a series of costumes but instead the embrace of a wide-ranging identity. There are times when one just has a job, where that job is separate from the life led. This is certainly not the case of the Catholic School Teacher. No. Now I find myself scanning the Young Adult section at Barnes & Noble. I find myself spending a weekend afternoon at a middle school basketball tournaments. I find myself delivering a dining table to and eating tacos with a student's mother.

Part of finding this balance and ending the quick-change charade also involves taking time to step away from the classroom and embrace that being a teacher is still being a person. A poet I enjoy, Jack Gilbert, writes "we must risk delight/we can do without pleasure/but not delight." In Tucson, I find delight in watching the sunset turn the mountains behind the ACE house pink, in attending Monday night yoga with the girls of the house, in going on long, cool hikes in the winter, and in sampling the variety of amazing restaurants and coffee shops the town has to offer. Taking this time to delight, and sharing these joys with my students makes my experience here one complete one, not a collection of disjointed roles crammed into the space of a day. Now, even though it seems that time races by too quickly, it is not time filled with the anticipatory fear of missing the next cue but instead with the delight of a dynamic and multi-faceted experience.

The biggest challenge a first-year ACE teacher faces is their own confidence. Upon entering the program, we are already armed with enough content-knowledge to teach our respective subjects. We also have a surprising amount of pedagogical-knowledge after only one summer, which is a testament to the ACE faculty and staff to know exactly what a first-year needs to enter a classroom. Unfortunately, we are understandably burdened by a large amount of self-doubt.

In my case, a recent lesson brought to mind the difference between my first-year and second-year. For my unit on momentum, I had to cover the impulse-momentum theorem: a force applied over a time will cause a change in momentum. My first year, I came up with plenty of good examples of this: skateboarding, hitting a baseball with a bat, and catching a water balloon. Water balloons! The perfect example of this concept. Those who win water balloons tosses know that you will have a better chance of winning if you cradle the balloon upon catching it. You are increasing the contact time, thus applying a smaller force to the balloon and decreasing the possibility of it popping. What a great example! And yet, in my first year, all I could think about was the logistical nightmare of taking students outside: what if they throw balloons at each other? What if they just run as soon as we are out the door? What if I can never find them again once they run? What if they run into the principal as they are running? What if the principal knows I am responsible for that student, or, more accurately, irresponsible? Needless to say, I used it as an example in class for five minutes and moved on from there, safe in the confines of the classroom.

When my second year rolled around, I began thinking about the balloons again. I couldn't pass up this opportunity. I had enough experience to know that students don't run away the minute they go outside. I also had enough experience to know that if they did and the principal found them, he would probably discipline the student way worse than me. So, I took the step and went outside. And the difference in the two years was immediately apparent. My students were able to have conversations I previously had not had in past classes, because they now had a concrete understanding of the topic. And I had confidence.

To attribute the difference in my second year to solely confidence would be a mistake. I have learned about development, differentiation, modeling, and many more pedagogically relevant strategies. But, honestly, I have found that the confidence to execute properly has gone the farthest. It has given me the ability to instruct my students in better ways, to interpret the content better, and, of course, to wear hideously mismatched colors at the student-faculty basketball game.