Monday, May 23, 2016


This post is for my partner, whom I've grown to respect more in one school year than I do people I've known my whole life. But, I bet it will resonate with plenty of others as well, particularly educators. This year has been an amazing amalgamation of experiences. From learning ad hoc self defence to navigating educational politics to visiting more homes than I can count, I don't know how else to sum up the year than with this:

I was told this year by multiple people to toot my horn more often, to make my work public and known, to post, to advocate, to advertise myself and my achievements. I didn't, and I will continue not to, and I'm not sorry for doing so. Why? Because, people like us are raised a certain way, which means people like us act a certain way, people like us work a certain way, and people like us keep our heads down a certain way. We chose our jobs, we show up, and we do it well. We ask for nothing and expect nothing in return for doing our jobs well. We simply take pride in our work, and when others need a helping hand, we do that too, not because we want extra thanks or rewards, but because it's the right thing to do. And, when our colleagues and peers don't do what they're supposed to, we do that as well. We do everything that needs to be done, and we do it with our whole hearts because we understand commitment and community to be two of the most important values someone can have. We don't know another way.

No one will know what we do on a daily basis. No one asks, and we don't tell. If they do, we give credit to others. Things get done, and we walk away knowing that it was done well by us, but no one else will know. They don't have to know. We do it because it's the right thing to do, not because it can help our cause, push our advancement in the ranks, or get us raises. We don't complain, we don't whine, we don't delegate. Our lives are difficult, but our parents' struggles were immeasurably harder. We learned from them the value of hard work and silent virtue, and we'll carry those traits with us the rest of our lives. We won't reach the same pinnacles our self-touting and self-aggrandizing peers will, but we'll lead full lives nonetheless. And, when we walk away from everything, we won't have large pensions, millions of dollars, or thousands of friends and followers. We'll simply have pride in knowing we made a difference. And, no one else will have to know.

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Danny Sucks at Dating - Giving Poor Advice

It's only right that seeing as how it's my brother's birthday, I would share some of the best advice he's ever given me. It's certainly helped me grow, and it's something that I keep in mind every day. If you knew me in college, you probably knew that I wasn't the smartest or best of people, but at least I had my brother to keep me in check. This probably isn't true for most people though.

When I'm not staking out bathrooms, working on my interrogation skills, or paying home visits to truant students, my office tends to turn into a revolving door for girls with boy issues. I don't know how or why I became the go-to person for advice on these matters, but seemingly, I am a wise man with plenty of knowledge to dole out. I think these students might need to reconsider their options. They're taking advice from a guy who threw up on his fifth grade crush while we were sitting together on a field trip. I have no idea why she never talked to me again.

If there is one piece of advice I give them every time, it's what my brother told me many years ago: boys are stupid. They're young, they're impressionable, and they're eager to please. They don't ever really grow up; they just learn to hide their immaturity when it counts. And, for the ones who can't, well, they're really not worth your time. However, this is not to say that you excuse them for forgetting important dates, things you said, or just being good people overall, because, at the end of the day, it doesn't take that much to remember something that your girlfriend was taking a long time to look at while shopping, or to text her, "Good morning" or "I miss you," or to just spend time holding her hand. If you can spend a couple of minutes updating the world on your snapchat or tweeting about your new shoes, you can remember that the best interactions are the ones you have in real life with the people that matter. So, if your boy can't do that, well, maybe you should slap him upside the head a little bit. And, if he still doesn't get it, then he doesn't deserve you. Just don't lose any sleep over all of that. There are plenty of immature boys out there who can hide their 16 year-old selves at 28 just fine.

Remember, life isn't that serious. Just be careful of stupid boys.

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

The Secret is in the Telling

Remember when you were a little kid and someone told you a secret? You would feel giddy and anxious all over for days. It was a pretty good feeling, and it was fun. No one really got hurt. Sure, little Timmy might have peed his pants while trying to talk to yet another girl, but that was the extent of the pain. Laughs were had (and are still had) all around.

However, as you got older, secrets became worse. Your friend accidentally got someone pregnant and told you not to tell, your sibling cheated on his/her significant other...and told you not to tell, or one of your close family members became sick with a terminal illness, and you still couldn't tell. Knowing those secrets meant being backed into a corner, and they became not so fun anymore. If you had a secret of your own that you were trying to hide from others, well, that made life feel like a ever-tightening space. In that space, the walls that kept your secret contained became your home. And everyday that that secret remained inside of you, was another day that the walls closed in and made you even more withdrawn. Secrets became burdens.

That's the thing about secrets. The reason why they don't hurt anyone when you're a kid is because you were still following the golden rules that Sesame Street laid out - always be nice; always try your best. Timmy may have hurt his dignity and pride when he peed his pants, but that was it.

As you got older and kept more secrets about others and yourself, you lost more of your ability to trust. That box, or closet, or whatever other container you had to live in in order to keep that secret tucked away became a place where nothing good could grow. It was a place to survive. And you know what? Surviving is fine for a short while, but at some point, you have to ask yourself  - do you want to just survive, or do you want to live? We both know the answer to that question. Because, the truly strong ones are the ones who understand that the secret is in the telling, that their photoshopped, perfect selves on social media are not their true selves. The truly strong ones showed their real selves, with all of their imperfections and shortcomings, with all of their humanity.

So, do you want to know a secret? I believe in you, more than I believe in myself most days. I believe that you will always try to do the right thing, and that when you don't, you'll try to fix it instead of bottling up a secret. I believe you won't take your significant other for granted by saying work or other "busy" things take priority. I believe you'll remember to appreciate all the people in your life who love you and you'll try to return that love every day because tomorrow might not be an option. I believe you'll let your armor down and let people in, instead of keeping everyone at arm's length. But, most of all, I believe that you'll remember the golden rules - Always be nice. Always try your best.

Super Asian chubby Danny says it's okay to show others that you bleed as well.

Monday, January 25, 2016

Motivation for Monday (and for every day)

I guess I've been taking it on the chin lately. Last Friday, my colleagues said to me,  "Kid, you're looking beat.", "You're the shit catcher, you gotta keep your chin up.", "Man, I wouldn't want your job." I mean, I did literally throw one kid to safety and restrain another that day, so maybe I looked slightly worse for the wear, but overall, I'd say that I am looking pretty rough these days anyway. At some point, we all pay our dues. As a dean, I guess I pay more of mine on a daily basis, and it seemingly manifests on my already-haggard physical appearance. Next time you see me, don't comment on the bags under my eyes. They've only enlarged since the last time you saw me. Be nice, and let's just drink in relative silence, or talk about sports. Go, sports.

Let's be honest. Being in education can really suck sometimes. Most of the time, it's as rewarding as a career can get, but the job can take a serious toll on you. That's because this is a job that's unlike any other. There's no monetary or otherwise extrinsic motivator to do better for your constituents. The only thing you really get at the end of the day is peace of mind that you did your best. Everything about education is intrinsic. That's why the burnout rate is so high for fledgling American teachers. If you've ever wondered why 3-5 years is the average career span of a teacher, look no further than the long hours, low pay, and endless hurdles that teachers go through every day just to do their jobs.

Aside from those reasons, being an educator is unlike most professions. You wake up at some ungodly hour, and the job is there with you, sharing your bed with you and your significant other. You leave work at whatever ungodly hour you can manage, and the job follows you home, or to the restaurant, or the bar. You try to take a vacation, and the job follows you there too, to the beach, or the resort, or the bar. Did I mention the bar? It's no wonder so many teachers burn out so quickly. The job latches onto every fiber of your being if you actually care and do it right.

So, here I am, looking to give all of my fellow educators a leg-up on Monday. We've made it this far because we've found something special in education. Is it the scant pay and inordinate number times we facepalm every day? Possibly. Or maybe it's the feeling of being indoors so long that you've forgotten what sunlight looks and feels like. I personally enjoy mounds of paperwork. You know you like it too. Let's admit it, if you're a lifelong educator, you're fairly masochistic. However, you also know how to thrive under pressure, and you do it knowing full well that you won't get thanked for it very often, but you do it anyway. Your sense of silent virtue is stronger than most. How many students have now come through your doors and made something of themselves because of your efforts? I bet that number is pretty damn high. Those are the educators I love and keep in touch with, even if they knock out at 9pm on Friday nights. They keep doing it, and no one sees or thanks them for it. You want humility? Find a good teacher.

The only thing I have to say to you is: whatever you need to do to keep making it worthwhile for your students, do it. Whether it's daily yoga sessions, getting up early for a run, or shooting the breeze at the local watering hole with your favorite soldiers-in-arms, don't forget to lean on your fellow educator every once in a while. It's a long and thankless job, but here's a thank you from a lowly dean. You kick butt, and sometimes, your students recognize that too.

(Always remember, wear a tie, and keep your finger out.)

Monday, January 4, 2016

The Upside of Fear

Mark Twain once said, "I have been through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened." I'd be lying if I said that I didn't spend a lot of time in my youth being scared; some days, when things get really rough at work, the concerns about the future and the fear/stress of tomorrow still weigh heavy on my mind. In fact, my lack of any modicum of courage actually lent me the nickname of "play it safe" when I was younger (you can thank my brother for that one). That was a...not so pleasant time for me. Think 6th-grade Danny holding up an entire line of people trying to cross a suspension bridge because of his fear of the ropes snapping, which consequently paralyzed him at the halfway point. Add on some pretty disorienting swaying, and you've got me clutching onto the ropes for dear life. And then imagine my mom coming to try to rescue me from my crippling fear (and also from the hoards of angry tourists piling up behind me), and you pretty much have the whole scene. Embarrassed beyond belief wouldn't even begin to cover that moment.

Do I still worry about the future? Hell yeah, I do, but most days, I can hide the crazy. If you've seen the crazy though, I apologize to the less-than-handful of people who have had to deal with me losing my cool. It's not pretty. These days though (for the most part), I embrace the possibility of failure with gusto. Because, here's what I've learned about fear over the years - it has two faces. On the one hand, it can paralyze you with concern about the future so much that you cannot enjoy the present. That's really no way to live. On the other hand, fear has an upside too; it can be your best friend. Fear lets you know that you care, just as much as love does. The things that you're scared to do, the feelings you've kept locked up, and the people you're concerned about losing, that's fear letting you know that something is probably worth doing. That's fear telling you that you're invested in and care deeply about someone/something. And that's fear putting you at the fork in the road - Choice 1) Let fear freeze you and stop you from putting yourself out there. Choice 2) Embrace fear and put it on the line (with the potential for catastrophic failure, but at least you'll have a great story to tell). That would be you choosing what is right over what is easy. Your move, chief. New year, new you?

Definitely not my proudest moment. As you can see, the bridge was only wide enough to go single-file in each direction. I stopped it in both directions. Go, me.

Monday, December 14, 2015

The Boy with the White Box

There once was a boy who carried a white box wherever he went. Inside of the box was something that had shattered a long time ago, but it wasn't always that way. It was once whole and thrummed with energy; however, after years of lending it to others and wearing it down, it had slowly fallen into disrepair. So, he took it upon himself to find a way to piece this fragile object back together. He drove south in high hopes of a cure, but found only more pain. He journeyed east with cautious optimism only to meet its cold, frigid, and unwelcoming lights. He flew to the mid-west, hoping for deliverance, but finding nothing of the sort. He traveled far and wide, wearing down the soles of his shoes, collecting stories and souvenirs, and finding everything except for what he had originally set out.

When he finally returned home, he told his friends and family tall tales of faraway places, fascinating people, and forlorn heartache, but no matter how many stories he had accumulated or how many people he had run across in his travels, the pieces remained broken in their white box. And so he settled down in the city he once called home, and over time, the boy became a man, who stayed hopeful, but dismayed. Every day, he would pull the white box out of his dresser drawer and stare it, wondering if its contents would ever be whole again.

But, as life would have it, he found that for all the traveling he had done, there was already someone right where he had been his whole life, someone who knew about his white box and how to repair its contents. This someone could melt him with a single smile, could make him feel like he was looking at her for the first time every time he saw her, and could call him out whenever he wasn't at his best. But most importantly, she opened the white box that he had hidden away for so long and bit by bit, she made whole what was broken so long ago, until his heart again resembled its original shape.

Monday, November 30, 2015

No Bullshit

I'm going to ask something of you that I have no right to ask, but at least hear me out.

I am an after-thought, a person of convenience, the guy you call at 3am to bail you out of a jam. I've been that guy my entire life. Maybe it's an unsustainable way to live, to be everyone's #1 when you know that you're not prioritized reciprocally. Maybe it's why I asked one of my best friends why I'm so defective. Maybe it's why I constantly hear, "You're too fucking nice." But I have no problem being nice, I have no problem being your secondary or tertiary priority, or at least I didn't until a couple of weeks when I thought that maybe I deserved better, that I was shouldering too much. I still don't know.

What I do know is that it's really easy to make a New Year's resolution. It's the start of a new month and a new year. It feels like a chance to start over and reinvent yourself. Today is not January 1st, however. It's not the start of a new anything. It is actually the end of a month, exactly when people tell themselves that they'll start something new when the calendar flips, but I have a November 30th challenge for you. For however long you can stand to do it, a week, a day, or an hour, I want you to try this: accept no bullshit, and give none in return. Life is already too short, and you have enough people and bureaucracy to answer to on a daily basis. You don't deserve to waste any of it on a sugar-coated version of reality, and you certainly don't deserve sugar-coated versions of people in your life. You deserve life in its most unadulterated form, with people who truly appreciate and care about you.

Life should not be an exercise in keeping people in the dark as a means of "protection" or bottling up and dismissing our own feelings, both positive and negative. This doesn't mean you completely remove your filter, a la Jim Carrey in Liar, Liar. What I'm asking is that you don't put forth a second-rate version of yourself. No one deserves a second-rate, glossy, fictionalized version of reality or people in their lives. The world deserves the best version of you that you can muster every day, and you deserve the same in return. Accept no substitutes. Let's leave the bullshit for the bullshitters.

The human experience should involve good, honest, genuine, compassionate people, and that's the non-bullshit version of me you're going for as long as you have me, and I'm hoping for the same in return because the 19 year-old boy to the left, who watched your amusing drunken escapades and cleaned you off at 2am is now a 28 year-old man, but he hasn't changed. His phone stays on, and he'll pick up your late-night calls to come get you Tuesday night every time you ask him to. The only thing that he asks of you in return is that you don't bullshit him.