#but if dumbledore had communication skills then the series would’ve been over in one book

[moderndayamymarch]

it’s wild that dumbledore never told hagrid that it was tom riddle who opened the chamber of secrets. like hagird seemingly didn’t know? bc he burst into dumbledore’s office worried that dumbledore would blame harry for justin and nearly headless nick. which implies that hagrid 1. doesn’t know who the heir of slytherin is and 2. doesn’t know that dumbledore does know. I mean I say it’s wild but it’s actually not because that’s very on brand for albus.

which brings me to the bigger question: does hagrid know tom riddle is voldemort???? did someone at least tell him that?

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I like my book and I’ll write the plot however I want but at the same time I want everyone to like my story pls like my story -Danny

Words: 3,849 

Series’ Masterlist

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Chapter Thirteen: Dumbledore's Army.

As soon as she sat down next to Ron, a head popped out of the fireplace.

"Sirius!" Ron and Mel exclaimed together.

"Hi," He smiled.

"Hi," They all responded, kneeling around the fire.

"How're things?"

"Not that good," said Harry. "The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams —"

"— or secret Defense Against the Dark Arts groups?" said Sirius.

A second passed.

"How did you know about that?" Harry demanded.

Mel pulled Grey away from the fire while Hermione kept Crookshanks far from it as well.

"Who didn't know about that?" Mel said grumpily.

"You want to choose your meeting places more carefully," said Sirius, his grin only getting wider. "The Hog's Head... How's your Grandad, Mel?"

Ron and Harry, who had no idea of what that meant, turned to look at her with confusion. Mel let out another groan.

"I had to play dumb and pretend I didn't know him," She looked at the boys with a tense expression. "The bartender's my grandad."

"What?!" Ron and Harry asked at the same time.

"Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!" said Hermione. "That's always packed with people —"

"— which means you'd have been harder to overhear. You've got a lot to learn, Hermione."

"Who overheard us?" Harry demanded.

"Mundungus, of course," said Sirius laughing. "He was the witch under the veil."

"That was Mundungus?" Harry said. "What was he doing in the Hog's Head?"

"What do you think he was doing?" said Sirius. "Keeping an eye on you, of course."

"I'm still being followed?" asked Harry in outrage.

"Yeah, you are, and just as well, isn't it, if the first thing you're going to do on your weekend off is organize an illegal defence group."

"Why was Dung hiding from us?" asked Ron. "We'd've liked to've seen him."

"He was banned from the Hog's Head twenty years ago, and Mel's gran' got a long memory. We lost Moody's spare Invisibility Cloak when Sturgis was arrested, so Dung's been dressing as a witch a lot lately... Anyway... First of all, Ron — I've sworn to pass on a message from your mother."

"Oh yeah?" said Ron fearfully.

"She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also advises Harry and Hermione not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over either of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you'd all have been in real trouble, and she can't say it for herself because she's on duty tonight."

"On duty doing what?"

"Never you mind, just stuff for the Order," said Sirius. "So it's fallen to me to be the messenger and make sure you tell her I passed it all on because I don't think she trusts me to."

"What does my mum says about it?"

Sirius smiled again.

"She said 'Why do I even bother?' "

Mel snorted.

"So you want me to say I'm not going to take part in the defence group?" Ron said sadly.

"Me? Certainly not!" said Sirius, raising his eyebrows. "I think it's an excellent idea!"

"You do?" said Harry.

"Shocker," Mel replied sarcastically.

"Of course I do! D'you think your parents and I would've lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?"

"But — last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks —"

"Last year all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry! This year we know that there's someone outside Hogwarts who'd like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!"

"And if we do get expelled?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!" said Harry.

"I know it was... I just wondered what Sirius thought," She shrugged.

"Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue," said Sirius.

"We won't get expelled," Mel rolled her eyes. "Not as long as my uncle is Headmaster. He won't throw us out knowing we're being hunted. We're safe as long as we learn how to play our cards."

Sirius gave her a funny look.

"You've been practising your skills, little Em?"

Mel winked at him.

"So," said Sirius, "how are you organizing this group? Where are you meeting?"

"Well, that's a bit of a problem now," said Harry. "Dunno where we're going to be able to go..."

"How about the Shrieking Shack?" suggested Sirius.

"Hey, that's an idea!" said Ron excitedly, but Hermione clicked her tongue.

"Well, Sirius, it's just that there were only five of you meeting in the Shrieking Shack when you were at school, and all of you could transform into animals and I suppose you could all have squeezed under a single Invisibility Cloak if you'd wanted to. But there are about thirty of us and none of us is an Animagus, so we wouldn't need so much an Invisibility Cloak as an Invisibility Marquee —"

"Fair point... Well, I'm sure you'll come up with somewhere... There used to be a pretty roomy secret passageway behind that big mirror on the fourth floor, you might have enough space to practice jinxes in there —"

"Fred and George told me it's blocked," said Harry gloomily. "Caved in or something."

"Oh..." Sirius frowned. "Well, I'll have a think and get back to —"

His eyes widened slightly, and he turned his head to the side as if hearing something.

"Sirius?" Harry asked quietly. Sirius' head pulled back abruptly. "Why did he — ?"

A hand had appeared amongst the flames, groping as though to catch hold of something; a stubby, short-fingered hand covered in ugly old-fashioned rings...

The four of them stood up and ran, Mel and Harry both stopped and looked back at Umbridge's hand in the fire. Both frightened, wide-eyed, before disappearing into their rooms.

"Hermione," Mel whispered so Parvati and Lavender wouldn't wake up, closing the door behind her. "I talked to Erick today."

"About what?"

"I think we solved the communication problem," She said, pulling out her watch and handing it to her friend. "But I'll need your help."

"Silencio!" said Hermione hastily, pointing her wand at Harry's frog, which deflated silently before them. "Well, he mustn't do it again, that's all. I just don't know how we're going to let him know. We can't send him an owl."

"I can send one to my mum," Mel objected, silencing her raven with one swift wand movement.

"I don't reckon he'll risk it again," said Ron. "He's not stupid, he knows she nearly got him. Silencio!" Ron's raven only sounded louder. "Silencio! SILENCIO!"

"It's the way you're moving your wand," said Hermione. "You don't want to wave it, it's more a sharp jab."

"Ravens are harder than frogs," said Ron. Mel gave him a look as she held her mute raven.

"Fine, let's swap," said Hermione. "Silencio!"

The raven stopped making a sound.

"Very good, Miss Granger!" said Professor Flitwick. "Now, let me see you try, Mr Weasley!"

Mel snorted, earning a nudge from Hermione.

"Wha — ? Oh — oh, right," said Ron. "Er — Silencio!"

He poked the frog in the eye; it gave a deafening croak and jumped off the desk.

"I already told you I'll help you with charms!" Mel exclaimed, trying to aim to Peeves, who was floating above them and attempting to throw an ink pellet at the students.

It was raining hard outside, so they were left to hang out inside the classrooms with little to do.

"Like you helped me last week?" Ron asked bitterly.

"I said I was sorry, all right?" She rolled her eyes. "Lost track of time..."

"You didn't want to help me," He argued.

"Don't be silly," She retorted. "Watch this..."

She flicked her wand and shot a splash of ice-cold water towards Peeves' butt. The Poltergeist yelped and turned around, but Mel had hidden her wand and was now looking at Ron, pretending to be focused on the conversation. Peeves left the classroom fuming, once gone, they erupted into cackles.

"You shouldn't taunt him, Mel," Hermione warned her. "He can be cruel if he wants to."

"Me too," The girl smirked.

"I've got permission!" Angelina ran into the classroom. "To re-form the Quidditch team!"

"Excellent!" said the boys.

"Yeah, I went to McGonagall and I think she might have appealed to Dumbledore — anyway, Umbridge had to give in. Ha! So I want you down at the pitch at seven o'clock tonight, all right, because we've got to make up time, you realize we're only three weeks away from our first match?"

She left as quickly as she had appeared; Peeves flew back in, his arms carrying a bunch of new ink pellets to throw at them. Mel felt the slightest sting of worry.

"Hope this clears up..." Ron said looking out the window. "What's up with you, Hermione?"

"Just thinking..."

"About Siri... Snuffles?"

"No... not exactly... More... wondering... I suppose we're doing the right thing... I think... aren't we?"

Harry, Mel and Ron looked at each other.

"Well, that clears that up," said Ron. "It would've been really annoying if you hadn't explained yourself properly."

"I was just wondering," She said, clearer this time, "whether we're doing the right thing, starting this Defense Against the Dark Arts group."

"What!" said Harry and Ron together.

"Hermione, it was your idea in the first place!" said Ron.

"I know, but after talking to Snuffles..."

"But he's all for it!" said Harry.

"Yes! Yes, that's what made me think maybe it wasn't a good idea after all..."

Peeves floated above them, all four lifted their bags to cover their heads.

"Let's get this straight," said Harry, once again in a bad mood, "Sirius agrees with us, so you don't think we should do it anymore?"

"Do you honestly trust his judgment?"

"Yes, I do! He's always given us great advice!"

"You don't think he has become... sort of... reckless... since he's been cooped up in Grimmauld Place? You don't think he's... kind of... living through us?"

"What d'you mean, 'living through us'?" Harry retorted.

"Oh, yeah he's definitely doing that," Mel admitted. "But what's wrong about it?"

"I mean... well, I think he'd love to be forming secret defence societies right under the nose of someone from the Ministry... I think he's really frustrated at how little he can do where he is... so I think he's keen to kind of... egg us on."

"So what?" Mel frowned. "It's still the right thing to do, him having no power over his life it's exactly where we are as well. The difference is that we have a chance to do something, and he wants us to take it."

"But there's so much at risk!"

"Sirius is right," Ron said in disbelief, "you do sound just like my mother."

Hermione didn't speak to them after that.

The next day Harry told them all about Dobby's visit in the middle of the night, waking him up after falling asleep in the common room by accident. He told them he'd found a room where to hold their meetings, which was great news, considering the girls had figured out a way to communicate without being too obvious.

The walls were lined with wooden bookcases, and instead of chairs, there were large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far end of the room carried a range of instruments such as Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors, and a large cracked Foe-Glass that Harry was sure had hung, the previous year, in the fake Moody's office.

"How wonderful!" Mel walked towards the bookcases.

"These will be good when we're practising Stunning," said Ron, looking at the cushions.

"And just look at these books!" said Hermione standing beside her. "A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions... The Dark Arts Outsmarted... Self-Defensive Spellwork... wow... Harry, this is wonderful, there's everything we need here!"

There was a brief moment where Mel and Harry looked at each other, both with the same excited expression. Harry was about to say something when someone knocked on the door. Ginny, Neville, Lavender, Parvati, and Dean had arrived.

"Whoa," said Dean. "What is this place?"

Harry explained everything to their classmates as more started to arrive. At eight o'clock the place was full, every cushion occupied. Harry closed the door and turned the key. Everyone looked at him and Mel. Hermione set her book aside. Mel got up and stood next to Harry, feeling strangely out of place after all that time away from him.

"Well," He said. "This is the place we've found for practices, and you've — er — obviously found it okay —"

"It's fantastic!" said Cho.

"It's bizarre," said Fred. "We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then..."

"It changes depending on what you need it to be," Mel shrugged. "It became a toilet room for my uncle once."

Many laughed at her statement.

"Hey, Harry, what's this stuff?" asked Dean.

"Dark Detectors," Harry moved towards some objects. "Basically they all show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you don't want to rely on them too much, they can be fooled..."

"Well, only the sneakoscopes, really," Mel added. "The Foe-glass is harder to trick, only if you know your way around technicalities..."

"Well," The boy looked at her carefully, then moved his gaze to the group. "I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and — er —" Hermione raised her hand. "What, Hermione?"

"I think we ought to elect a leader."

"Harry's leader," said Cho at once. Noticing the way some stared at her, she blushed and added. "Mel too, of course!"

"Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly," said Hermione. "It makes it formal and it gives them authority. So — everyone who thinks Harry and Mel ought to be our leaders?"

Everybody put up their hands.

"Er — right, thanks," Harry blushed madly. Mel scolded herself for thinking how cute it was. "And — what, Hermione?"

"I also think we ought to have a name! It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?"

"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" said Angelina.

"Or the Ministry of Magic Are Morons Group?" suggested Fred.

"I was thinking," said Hermione, "more of a name that didn't tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings."

"The Defense Association?" said Cho. "The D.A. for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?"

"Yeah, the D.A.'s good," said Ginny. "Only let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it? And after all," She smirked at Mel. "A Dumbledore is our leader."

Mel grinned, a couple of students laughing along and agreeing with Ginny.

"All in favour of the D.A.?" said Hermione. "That's a majority — motion passed!"

She grabbed the parchment with all of their names on it on a wall and wrote DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY at the top.

"Right," said Harry, then he turned to Mel, "shall we get practising then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do is Expelliarmus, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful —"

"Sure," Mel shrugged. "Could do it in my sleep..."

"Oh please," said Zacharias Smith with annoyance. "I don't think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"

"I've used it against him," said Harry sharply. "It saved my life last June. But if you think it's beneath you, you can leave."  

No one left, of course.

"No objections then," Mel continued, "stand up, hope you brought your wands with you, otherwise it'll be a very boring night..."

"Okay," said Harry. "I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice."

Mel was kind of used to being listened to at that point, after all those weeks being the centre of attention of her new group of friends. Harry was a whole different story, he would usually try to hide and be quiet when he didn't want to be noticed, and she could tell he was having a hard time being the boss. She took the matter into her owns hands and paired everyone up, Neville was the last one standing, so Harry and she took turns with him.

"Right — on the count of three, then — one, two, three —"

Glancing around he thought he had been right to suggest that they practice the basics first; there was a lot of shoddy spellwork going on; many people were not succeeding in disarming their opponents at all, but merely causing them to jump backward a few paces or wince as the feeble spell whooshed over them.

"Merlin..." Mel was divided between shock and amusement.

"Expelliarmus!" Neville yelled without warning and Harry's wand flew out of his hand. "I DID IT! I've never done it before — I DID IT!"

"Good one!" said Harry. "Listen, Neville, can you take it in turns to practice with Ron and Hermione for a couple of minutes so Mel and I can walk around and see how the rest are doing?"

Mel took one side of the room and Harry the other. For a group of beginners, she thought they were doing all right. Harry and Mel met halfway and stopped to watch everyone side by side.

"What are your thoughts on this?" Harry asked her.

"I think you should've let the twins mess with Zacharias Smith a bit longer, he definitely needs to be humbled down..."

"We have weeks to do so," He replied casually.

"Ginny's doing great though, she did it in her first try!"

"I suspect Michael is only pretending to suck."

"If he is, he's doing the wrong thing to impress her," Mel smirked. "Anthony tried to show off when I walked past and he threw his wand directly at Smith's face!"

"Sometimes I want to throw a wand at Smith's face.."

Mel laughed, locking eyes with Harry. Her chest tightened at the sight of his silly old grin, and for a moment she felt like maybe not all hope was lost. Maybe they could find a way to be friends again.

"Er," She cleared her throat. "We should give them new directions now."

"What? Oh, right. Okay. Stop!" Harry shouted a bit clumsily, turning to look at their classmates. "Stop! STOP!"

"There," Mel nudged his arm and pointed to the whistle on the bookcase next to him. Harry took it a blew it.

"That wasn't bad," said Harry once they all stopped, "but there's definite room for improvement. Let's try again..."

As they continued to help around, Mel noticed he was letting her take care of Cho and Marietta. This, of course, reminded her that even though she was still having a hard time getting over him, Harry had long moved on from their... thing. So she avoided the pair until Harry had no choice but to go to them.

"Oh no," Cho blushed furiously as he approached. Mel lingered a few feet away, pretending to examine the Creeveys' techniques. "Expelliarmious! I mean, Expellimellius! I — oh, sorry, Marietta! You made me nervous, I was doing all right before then!"

Mel rolled her eyes at that. It wasn't that Cho was annoying, it wasn't even that Cho deserved to be disliked, but Mel was barely keeping it together every day and now she had to stand there and watch as Harry flirted with his crush twice a week.

"That was quite good," She heard Harry lie, after a second, he corrected. "Well, no, it was lousy, but I know you can do it properly, I was watching from over there..."

Marietta looked at them with exasperation and turned to leave. Mel watched as Cho leaned closer to whisper something to Harry's ear and that's when she decided she'd seen enough. The girl turned around.

"Hey, watch it!" Someone yelled at her.

Mel drew out her wand and stop the projectile before it stabbed her in the eye. She picked up George's wand from the ground and handed it back.

"You guys are doing great," She teased.

"Thanks," Said George. "Fred's enthusiastic."

"Talking about enthusiasm," Fred discretely pointed towards Harry and Cho with his head. "What's that about?"

"I don't care," Mel replied, making a face. "As long as it doesn't distract him from what we're doing here..."

"He looks distracted already," Fred raised a brow. "Want me to bring him back to earth?"

He waved his wand as if to jinx Harry, Mel grabbed his arm and moved it away, giggling.

"I'm afraid you're not allowed to hurt your teacher," She replied humorously.

"If you're done flirting, it's my turn to practice!" George called out.

"We're not, actually," Fred put an arm around her shoulders and pointed to George with his wand. "You're going to have to kill me first!"

"No killing tonight!" Mel laughed, stepping away from Fred's grip. "Stop fooling around, keep practising!"

"Sure thing, Professor!" The twins replied.

Ten minutes later, when Harry and Mel finally called it a night, everyone looked flushed and tired, but happier than they'd looked in months.

"Well, that was pretty good, but we've overrun, we'd better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?"

"Sooner!" said Dean.

"The Quidditch season's about to start, we need team practices too!" Said Angelina.

"Let's say next Wednesday night, then," said Harry, looking at Mel for her approval. She nodded. "And we can decide on additional meetings then... Come on, we'd better get going..."

"You all were brilliant," Mel smiled. "Hope to see you all again next time!"

"That was really, really good, guys," said Hermione when they were finally the only ones left in the hall.

"Yeah, it was!" said Ron. "Did you see me disarm Hermione?"

"Only once! I got you loads more than you got me —"

"I did not only get you once, I got you at least three times —"

"Well, if you're counting the one where you tripped over your own feet and knocked the wand out of my hand —"

"No bickering tonight, guys!" Mel said brightly. "The whole point is for everyone to learn and be better! I'm really proud of everyone– Neville especially, he looked so sure of himself!"

Mel glanced at Harry and found him staring at the Marauder's Map, his finger hovering over the dot with the tag 'Cho Chang'.

Next Chapter —>

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[bensk]

Be curious. Be humble. Be useful.

I was invited to give the annual Taub Lecture for graduating Public Policy students at the University of Chicago, my alma mater and the department from which I graduated. This is what I came up with.

---

I am incredibly grateful and honored to be here tonight. The Public Policy program literally changed my life.

My name is Ben Samuels-Kalow, my pronouns are he/him/his. I’m a 2012 Public Policy graduate, and I will permit myself one “back in my day” comment: When I was a student here, the “Taub Lecture” were actual lectures given by Professor Taub in our Implementation class. I’ve spent the last nine years teaching in the South Bronx. For the past two years, I have served as Head of School at Creo College Prep, a public charter school that opened in 2019.

I was asked tonight to tell you a bit about my journey, and the work that I do. My objection to doing this is that there is basically nothing less interesting than listening to a white man tell you how he got somewhere, so I'll keep it brief. I grew up in New York City and went to a public high school that turned out Justice Elena Kagan, Chris Hayes, Lin-Manuel Miranda, among many others…none of whom were available tonight.

We, on this Zoom, all have one thing in common — we have been very, very close to graduating from the University of Chicago. I have never sat quite where you sit. I didn’t graduate into a pandemic. But the truth is that everyone graduates into a crisis. The periods of relative ease, the so-called “ends of history”, even the end of this pandemic, are really matters of forced perspective. This crisis isn’t over. Periods of relative peace and stability paper over chasms of structural inequality.

You went to college with the people who will write the books and go on the talk shows and coin the phrases to describe our times. You could write that book. You could go into consulting and spend six weeks at a time helping a company figure out how to maximize profits from their Trademark Chasm Expanding Products.

You could also run into the chasm.

What is the chasm?

It is the distance between potential and opportunity. It is a University on the South Side of Chicago with a student body that is 10% Black and 15% Latinx, with a faculty that is 65% white.

It is eight Black students being admitted to a top high school in New York City...in a class of 749.

What is the chasm?

The chasm is that in our neighborhood in The Bronx, where I’m standing right now, 1 in 4 students can read a book on their grade level, and only 1 in 10 will ever sit in a college class.

It is maternal mortality and COVID survival rates. The chasm is generational wealth and payday loans.

It is systemic racism and misogyny.

It is the case for activism and reparations.

In my job, the chasm is the distance between the creativity, brilliance, and wit that my students possess, and the opportunities the schools in our neighborhood provide.

In the zip code in which I grew up in New York City, the median income is $122,169. In the zip code where I have spent every day working since I graduated from UChicago, the median income is $30,349. The school where I went to 7th grade and this school where next year we will have our first 7th grade are only a 15 minute drive apart.

In my first quarter at UChicago, I joined the Neighborhood Schools Program, and immediately fell in love with working in schools. I joined NSP because a friend told me how interesting she found the work. I’d done some tutoring in high school, and had taught karate since I was 15. I applied, was accepted, and worked at Hyde Park Academy on 62nd and Stony Island in a variety of capacities from 2008 to 2012.

At the time, Hyde Park Academy had one of very few International Baccalaureate programs on the South Side, and every spring, parents would line up out the door of the school to try to get their rising 9th grader in. I worked with an incredible mentor teacher and successive classes of high school seniors whose wit, creativity, and skill would've been at home in the seminars and dorm discussions we all have participated in three blocks north of their high school.

In my work at Hyde Park Academy, I learned the first lesson of three lessons that have shaped my career as a teacher. Be curious. I had been told in Orientation that there were “borders” to the UChicago experience, lines we should not cross. I am forever grateful to the people who told me to ignore that BS. Our entire department is a testimony to ignoring that BS. We ask questions like, why did parents line up for hours to get into what was considered a “failing” high school? Why had no one asked my kids to write poetry before? Why are they more creative and better at writing than most of the kids I went to high school with, but there is only one IB class and families have to literally compete to get in? I learned as much from my job three blocks south of the University as I did in my classes at the University...which is to say, I was learning a LOT, but I had a lot more to learn.

I knew I wanted to be a teacher from my first quarter here. I did my research. The Boston Teacher Residency was the top program in the country, so I applied there. I was a 21 year old white man interested in education, so...I applied to Teach for America. In the early 2010’s, I looked like the default avatar on a Teach for America profile. It was my backup option. I was all in on Boston, and was sure, with four years working in urban schools, a stint at the Urban Education Institute, and, at the time, seven years of karate teaching under my belt, I was a shoe in.

I was rejected from both programs. Which brings me to my second lesson. Be humble. We are destined for and entitled to nothing. There is an aphorism I learned from one of my favorite podcasts, Another Round: "carry yourself with the confidence of a mediocre white man." If you are a mediocre white man, like me, do as much as you can not to be. If you look like me, you live life on the "lowest difficulty setting." This means I need to question my gifts, contextualize my successes, and actively work against systems of oppression that perpetuate inequity.

Over the last two years, I have interviewed over 300 people to work at this school. There are a series of questions that I ask folks with backgrounds like myself:

Have you ever lived in a neighborhood that was majority people of color?

Have you ever worked on a team that was majority people of color?

Have you ever worked for a boss/supervisor/leader who was a person of color?

The vast majority of white folks, myself at 21 included, could not answer “yes” to these three questions. This is disappointing, but I've also lived and worked in two of the most segregated cities on this continent, so it is not surprising. By the time I sat where you’re sitting now, I had learned a lot about education policy and sociology. I'd taken every class that Chad offered at the time. I'd worked at UEI, I'd worked in a South Side high school for four years, and I still thought I was entitled to something. Unlearning doesn't usually happen in a moment, and I certainly didn't realize it at the time, but these rejections were the best thing that has happened to me in my growth as a human.

I moved back home to New York, was accepted to my last-choice teaching program, and started teaching at MS 223: The Laboratory School of Finance & Technology. I ended up teaching there for 5 years. I had incredible mentors, met some of my best friends, started a Computer Science program that’s used as a model at hundreds of schools across New York City…and most importantly, while making copies for Summer School in July of 2015, I met my wife.

All this to say — if you aren’t 100% convinced that what you’re doing next year is Your Thing, keep an open mind…and make frequent stops in the copy room.

I learned that teaching was My Thing. I didn't want to do ed policy research. I got to set education policy, conduct case studies, key informant interviews, run statistical analysis…with 12 year olds. This was the thing I couldn’t stop talking about, reading about, learning about. I really and truly did not care about the “UChicago voices” of my parents and my friends who kept asking what I was going to do next. My answer: teach.

If you look like me, and you teach Computer Science, there are opportunities that come flying your way. I was offered jobs with more prestige, jobs with more pay, jobs far away from the South Bronx. I was offered jobs I would have loved. But I’d learned a third lesson: be useful. If you have a degree from this place, people will always ask you what the next promotion or job is. They will ask "what's next for you" and they will mean it with respect and admiration.

Here’s the thing: teaching was what’s next. “But don’t you want to work in policy?” Teaching is a political act. It is hands-on activism, it is community organizing, it is high-tech optimistic problem-solving and low-tech relationship building. It is the reason we have the privilege of choosing a career, and it is a career worth choosing.

I had internalized what I like to call the Dumbledore Principle: “I had learned that I was not to be trusted with power.” This meant unlearning the very UChicago idea that if you were smart and if you think and talk like we are trained to think and talk at this place, you should be in charge. The best things in my life have come from unlearning that. Learning from mentors to never speak the way I was praised for in a seminar. Learning from veteran teachers how to be a warm demander who was my authentic best self...and more importantly brought out the authentic best self in my students. Being useful isn't the same thing as being in charge…and that is ok.

I believe this deeply. Which is why, when I was offered the opportunity to design and open a school, my first thought was absolutely the hell no. I said to my wife: “I’m a teacher. Dumbledore Principle — we’re supposed to teach, make our classrooms safe and wonderful for our kids.”

I also knew that teaching kids to code wasn’t worth a damn if they couldn’t read and write with conviction, so I started looking for schools that did both — treated kids like brilliant creatives who should learn to create the future AND met them where they were with rigorous coursework that closed opportunity gaps. In our neighborhood, there were schools that did the latter, that got incredible results for kids. Then there was my school, where kids learned eight programming languages before they graduated, but at which only 40% of our kids could read.

We were lauded for this, by the way. 40% was twice the average in our district. We were praised for the Computer Science — the mayor of New York and the CEO of Microsoft visited and met with my students. It felt great. I wasn’t convinced it was useful.

Kids in the neighborhood where I grew up didn’t have to choose between a school that was interesting and a school that equipped them with the knowledge and skills to pursue their own interests in college and beyond. Why did our students have to choose? I delivered this stressed-out existential monologue to my wife that boiled down to this: every kid deserves a school where they were always safe, and never bored. We weren’t working at a school like that. I was being offered a chance to design one. But…Dumbledore principle.

My wife took it all in, looked at me, and said: “You idiot. Dumbledore RAN a school.”

Friends, you deserve a partner like this.

The road to opening Creo College Prep, and the last two years of leading our school as we opened, closed, opened online, finished our first year, moved buildings, opened online again, opened in-person (kind of) and now head into our third year, has reinforced my lessons from teaching — be curious, be humble, be useful. These lessons are about both learning and unlearning. A white guy doing Teach for America at 21 is a stereotype. A white guy starting a charter school is a stereotype with significant capital, wading into complicated political and pedagogical waters. The lessons I learn opening a school and the unlearning I must do to be worthy of the work are not destinations, they are journeys.

Be curious

I didn’t just open a school. Schools are communities, they are institutions, and they are bureaucracies. If you work very, very hard, and with the right people, they become engines that turn coffee and human potential into joy and intellectual thriving capable of altering the trajectory of a child’s life.

First you have to find the right people. I joined a school design fellowship, spent a year visiting 50 high-performing schools across the country, recruited a founding board of smart, committed people who hold me accountable, and spent time in my community learning from families what they wanted in a school. There is studying public policy, and then there is attending Community Board meetings and Community Education Council Meetings, and standing outside of the Parkchester Macy's handing out flyers and getting petition signatures at Christmastime next to the mall Santa.

I observed in schools while writing my BA, and as a teacher, but it was in this fellowship that I learned to “thin slice,” a term we borrowed from psychology that refers to observing a small interaction and finding patterns about the emotions and values of people. In a school, it means observing small but crucial moments — how does arrival work, how are students called on, how do they ask for help in a classroom, how do they enter and leave spaces, how do they move through the hallways, where and how do teachers get their work done — and gleaning what a school values, and how that translates into impact for kids. Here’s how I look at schools:

Does every adult have an unwavering belief that students can, must, and will learn at the highest level?

Do they have realistic and urgent plans for getting every kid there? Are these beliefs and plans clear and held by kids?

Are all teachers strategic, valorizing planning and intellectual nerdery over control or power?

Is the curriculum worthy of the kids?

Can kids explain why the school does things they way they do? Can staff? Can the leader?

If I'm in the middle of teaching and I need a pen or a marker, what do I do? Is that clear?

What’s the attendance rate? How do we follow up on kids who aren’t here?

How organized and thoughtful are the physical and digital spaces?

Are kids seen by their teachers? Are their names pronounced correctly? Do their teachers look like them? Do they make them laugh, think, and revise their answers?

Would I want to work here? Would I send my own kids here?

Be humble

I learned that there are really two distinct organizations that we call “school.” One is an accumulation of talent (student and staff) that happens to be in the same place at the same time, operating on largely the same schedule.

These were the schools I attended. These are schools you got to go to if you got lucky and you were born in a zip code with high income and high opportunity. These are schools where you had teachers who were intellectually curious, and classmates whose learning deficits could be papered over by social capital…and sometimes, straight up capital.

“Accumulation of talent” also describes the schools I worked at. These were schools where if you got lucky and you were extraordinary in your intelligence, determination, support network, and teachers who’d decided to believe in you, you became one of the stories we told. “She got into Cornell.” “That whole English class got into four year colleges.”

Most schools in this country, it turns out, are run like this. I knew all about local control and the limits of federal standards on education and the battles over teacher evaluations and so much other helpful and important context I learned in my PBPL classes.  But when thin-slicing a kindergarten classroom in Nashville on my first school visit of the Fellowship, I saw a whole other possibility of what “school” can be.

School can be a special place organized towards a single purpose. One team, one mission. Where the work kids do in one class directly connects to the next, and builds on the prior year. Where kids are treated like the important people they are and the important people they will be, where students and staff hold each other to a high bar, where there is rigor and joy. A place where staff train together so that instead of separate classrooms telling separate stories about how to achieve, there is one coherent language that gives kids the thing they crave and deserve above all else: consistency.

We get up every morning to build a school like that. It’s why my team starts staff training a month before the first day of school. It’s why we practice teaching our lessons so that we don’t waste a moment of our kids’ time. It’s why everyone at our school has a coach, including me, so we can be a better teacher tomorrow than we were today. It’s why we plan engaging, culturally responsive, relevant lessons. It’s how we keep a simple, crucial promise to every family: at this school, you will always be safe, and you will never be bored.

Be useful

Statistically speaking, it is not out of the realm of possibility that several of you will one day be in a position to make big sweeping policy changes. You will have the power to not only write position papers, but to Make Big Plans. I will be rooting for you, but I hope that you won’t pursue Big Plans for the sake of Big Plans.

The architect who designed the Midway reportedly said "make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men's blood." I had that quoted to me in several lectures at this school, and you know what?

It’s bullshit.

I am asking you not to care about scale. Good policy isn’t about scale, it’s about implementation, and implementation requires the right people on the ground. Implementation can scale. The right people cannot. We can Make Big Plans, but every 6th grade math class still needs an excellent math teacher. That's a job worth doing. I could dream about starting 20 schools, but every school needs a leader. That’s a job worth doing. Places like UChicago teach us to ask "what's next" for our own advancement, to do this now so we can get to that later. I learned to ask "what's next" to be as useful as possible to as many kids as I have in front of me.

I hold these two thoughts in my mind:

The educational realities of the South Bronx have a lot more to do with where highways were built in our neighborhood than with No Child Left Behind or charter schools, and require comprehensive policy change that address not only educational inequity, but environmental justice, and systemic racism.

The most useful policy changes I can make right now are to finalize the schedule for our staff work days that start on June 21, get feedback on next year’s calendar from families, and finish hiring the teachers our kids deserve.

I will follow the policy debates of #1 with great interest, but I know where I can be useful, and I’ll wake up tomorrow excited to make another draft of the calendar. I hope you get to work on making your Small Plans, and I will leave you with the secret — or at least the way that worked for me:

Find yourself people who are smarter than you and who disagree with you. Find problems you cannot shut up or stop thinking about. Do what you can’t shut up about with intellect and kindness. Use the privilege and opportunity that we have because we went to this school to make sure that opportunity for others does not require privilege. Run into the chasm.

Be curious, be humble, be useful.

Thank you.

[halfbreed-hawkins-blog]

When and how did you get into Harry Potter?

My mother started reading me the books at bedtime, since my family was big on reading we had to read every night. Harry Potter was growing in popularity at the time. I learned to read chapter books with Harry Potter, as the books developed so did I, as the movies came out I came of age with the films, and the actors. Harry Potter became less of a bedtime story and more of a dream, and something a bit like a different reality. 

Favourite HP movie? Why?

Like any good Sirus & the Marauders groupie my favorite movie was Prisoner of Azkaban. The patronus spell became my favorite and the expansion of the universe, and the groups now teenage hijinks hit me just right as a middle-schooler. As they gained freedom from the walls of Hogwarts, so did I.

Favourite HP book? Why?

Again PoA is my favorite book, closely followed by the HBP. It’s for similar reasons above, both films/books came out as I was hitting major changes and Harry & co. resonated with me more.

Favourite HP character? Why?

I know everyone thinks that I’d say Hermione Granger, which is partially right, she was my favorite as a child. But I am no longer a child, I am 21 years old, and I have changed, One person in the books stood out to me each time I read them-- Nymphadora Tonks. Like me she is a Hufflepuff, an understated character in the books, brilliant as she is an Auror, brave because she willing & did put her life down, she is loyal and hard-working but has even minor flaws. Growing up I wanted her powers, to be a Metamorphagus, change who I am every day. I think about that a lot, Tonks’ struggle with identity, with love, with being treated as a ‘young’ member of the OotP. I think about how clumsy she is, how brash, how brave, how young and how tragic. I think about her now, where I am closer to her age, and how I think how loyal and scared she must’ve been for her young family, for her child, for her world. I think of Harry & co who grew up in the fight. I think of Tonks who grew up post-Death Eaters, who grew up in the ‘twilight’ years between the Wizarding Wars, and how in many ways she chose to fight and not chosen to fight. It’s different, she chose to fight, she chose to become an Auror, she chose to leave behind Teddy to give him a better world, she chose to chase after what she wanted even if everyone thought she was crazy for who she loves. I resonate with that as well, my sexuality, while I am proud, is often sneered at even within my own community. I look at Tonks, and I see alot of me. I see the struggles with identity, with validation, I see loyalty to the end, I see bitter & brashness. I see me in Tonks. 

Least favourite HP character, plot, or ship (or all three)?

character: Umbridge for obvious reasons. 

ship: gag me with a spoon over Harry/Cho Chang. 

plot: KILLING DOBBY, LEAVE MY HOUSE ELF CHILD A L O N E GODDAMNIT.

What’s your favourite HP-related memory?

Alright kiddies, I went to every goddamn midnight premire since the 3rd movie & the fucking midnight sales of the Harry Potter books. I sang A Very Potter Musical in line, I was a Beta-Tester for Pottermore. I am trash, every memory if precious even when Dumbledore died & I was bawling like a baby at 4am in my bed.

Why did you decide to start roleplaying HP-related stuff?

It’s everything I ever wanted, to not be me but be able to play in a universe that I love so fucking close to my chest. It’s like an extension of my childhood.

Most interesting part of the HP world?

I find wand-lore, werewolf/vampire lore&history, generally the history of the magical world. The battles and wars, the development of the universe. I love it. I delve so deep into the idea of tradition, family lines, battle lines and differences even between magic, and magical skills and the reasons behind it. Like was a certain magical family raised to be warriors, hence why their descendants are better with more ‘warlike’ magic or ‘dark’ magic. What about families who descended from peoples who lives in the wood, around herbs and the earth, does their magic tune in more naturally to Herbology, Healing, or COMC? This is the type of shit I love, and something I enjoy exploring in my characters.

Your wand:

Apple, 8 1/2 inches, Dragon Hearstring, brittle.

Your patronus:

According to Pottermore a Bloodhound, according to me a Bobcat.

Your boggart (if you’re okay sharing!):

Naw.

What classes would you be best at in Hogwarts?

Charms, Herbology, History of Magic, portions of DADA, COMC.

What classes would you be the worst at?

Transfiguration, Arthimancy, Astronamy, probably Potions I’d blow something up.

Your favourite thing to do if you were at Hogwarts:

Probably exploring the Forbbiden Forest & the grounds, also Hogsmeade

Favourite supernatural creature from the HP world?

Hippogriff like a good PoA fangirl!

Death Eaters or the Order?

Order, or like a youthful rebellion off-shoot like Dumbledore’s Army since I wouldn’t like taking orders from adults.

Marauders era or Next Gen?

Actually neither, I’d go for what I call the ‘twilight’ years, like the years that Tonks, Charlie, Bill ect. ect. were at school. Growing up in/after Voldemort, remembering the attacks as children, the idea of being ‘safe’, no doubt how small their classes were, missing classmates, how the muggleborns were treated. How much Death Eater kids were probably hated, or ‘gray’ children, the kids of Death Eaters who recently got sent to Azkaban. It’s an interesting time to explore, and one that’s often forgotten.

Would you join the quidditch team or cheer from the sidelines?

Fucking won’t fly, I like my feet on the ground goddamn.

If the Triwizard Tournament were allowed, would you put your name in?

My punk ass would’ve dumped a hole goblet of slips of my name in that thing. Hell yeah.

Dorm life: good or bad?

Kill. Me. 

From canon HP, who would be your favourite teacher?

Flitwick probably, he’s a master duellist, a veteran, but also such a charming happy man in the books. I would’ve really loved him.

If you could make J.K Rowling write another series (and write it well), would you? And if so, what would you have it focus on?

The Twilight Years of Hogwarts, or the years after Grindlewald rose to prominance. I would like to probably watch a group of 17-25 year olds wandering those times, where Muggle started learning tech, and dealing with jobs & adulthood in such dark times.