Category: Curriculum

  • And Suddenly, There’s A Math Book (You Already Know)

    And Suddenly, There’s A Math Book (You Already Know)

    This is a repost from The JLV.

    Note: This is a reminder that, if you became a paid subscriber to Jose’s blog, you’ll get a signed copy of You Already Know! If you’d like to support this scholar, join his newsletter here.


    Remember when I told you I’d need a timeout so I could write a book? Welp, it’s almost here and I’m so excited to share how we got here!

    Believe it or not, it starts where it ends. In early February of 2020, I had a call with an editor about a potential math book. She said, “Jose, but I’m not a math editor.” I said, “Exactly.” I didn’t want to write the typical content-area book. We have plenty of examples of great math books, but few that discuss underlying principles and who we’re doing this work for. In other words, if the math book hit for a person who didn’t see themselves as a math content expert, then I’ve written the book I wanted in the world.

    But then two life-altering things happened back-to-back: an acceptance letter to Teachers College, Columbia University to pursue my doctorate and a global pandemic arriving on American shores. In the midst of a personal win, I quickly felt the immense wave of losses. As degrees of separation between me and people who died from COVID passed, I also saw my classes physically slipping away. Some people’s memories, including Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s, may be short, but more of us remember the harrowing images and numbers of people we lost. I became the bearer and receiver of bad news weekly.

    And then there was this book. 

    I was fiddling with ideas in a proposal. The words came in chunks, not flows. One of my first proposals felt like I threw papier-mâché on my walls. “Here’s what I want to say to families.” “Here’s what I might say to non-math educators.” This all happened while reading about Marx, Engels, and Weber, turning in theoretical papers deep in the trenches of my mind, but distant from the lived realities of people away from the centers of academia. People asked me to make meaning of education amidst human rights rebellions in the street, social depression among our youth, and political turmoil.

    I willingly obliged them because I, like so many of us, needed to rise to the occasion. As always. But then this book.

    This book may get marketed as “by a teacher for teachers,” but underneath it lies ulterior motives. As I’m breezing through earlier proposals and drafts I submitted, I’m trying to address people who consider themselves “non-math” people. What even is a math person? Many of us who teach math were more often than not the winners of a system that, at each stage of our K-12 journey, treats math like a sifter until only the finest powder makes it through. That’s one way of creating a society, but does it point towards an authentic democracy? 

    No, definitely not. Where too many people concentrate strictly on outcomes, I see there’s a need to talk about how we got here. It isn’t just standardized testing. It’s a complete disregard of civilizations since time immemorial. Our concepts of zero, our units of measurement (because customary is just awful), and our math more generally came to the present through political and structural means. Which math mattered and for who has always been up for debate. What shouldn’t be up for debate is whether our students come from communities that use math on multiple fronts.

    The book hopefully solves for that, too.

    And so the title You Already Know emerges from that idea. I’ve talked to you about ideas, but ultimately, here are some things worth knowing:

    • I don’t remember when it was over until it was.
    • There were multiple eyes on it at different points of the process, but ultimately, the writing and composition all came from within me.
    • I could have kept writing. Even before we had to turn it into the printer, I still had minor revisions and edits I wanted to make.

    You’re getting my best (up to this point) ideas about the math I learned and who I learned it from. As most of the country’s PK-12 students have already started classes, this book hopefully arrives just when you either feel bored, stymied, or in need of a reminder of the math teacher you want to be for your students. The book even comes with a short framework for how to do the work:

    You Already Know is organized around five core principles of responsive math pedagogy:

    • use what students already know
    • allow more mistakes
    • support students’ struggle
    • let students teach, too
    • answer questions with more questions

    I’m also seeing how this book comes just weeks before more potential civil unrest in the form of midterm elections. While federal and local forces attempt to take a hatchet to governance, I also wish for this book to help carve the way forward. It should stand as testament that someone said and did something to concretize the work of teachers. As someone who’s taught so many students of different backgrounds, I believe we’re ten toes down on responsiveness to our students and communities, too.

    But you already knew that. I know you did.

    Jose

  • The Curriculum Of Bad Bunny At The Super Bowl Halftime Show

    The Curriculum Of Bad Bunny At The Super Bowl Halftime Show

    BY JOSE VILSON | FEBRUARY 17, 2026

    “¿Esto lo que tu queria?”

    The scene with Bad Bunny in the Spike Lee-inspired Double Dolly shot was the wink to the audience that pulled his Super Bowl half-time show together. For those who haven’t watched any of Lee’s most prized cinematic works (Malcolm X, 25th Hour, Crooklyn, to name a few), the shot serves an important purpose. Rather than the more passive viewing of the film, the double dolly forces the viewer to sit with the protagonist’s stream of consciousness. 

    For educators who watched, it might feel difficult to peer through this 13-minute sample of Bad Bunny’s art in this way. As with any piece of this kind, accessibility and cultural translation matter just as much as language translation. In this case, Bad Bunny takes the opportunity to open a window into his process for the show. The violinists break from the raucous “EoO” into a melodramatic “Monaco,” a song in which Bad Bunny discusses the gift and curse of rising to fame. He addresses his fans (“I’m here at Super Bowl 60 because I never stopped believing in myself. You, too, should believe in yourself. It matters more than you think.”) and his dissidents (“Is this what you wanted?”).

    But you’re not supposed to turn into Bad Bunny in the classroom. You’re supposed to learn how to see. That’s the difference.

    The transition to a wedding singer in which Lady Gaga plays wedding singer for a couple’s nuptials elevates the conceit. The halftime show, akin to Kendrick Lamar’s halftime show last year, was a set of artistic metaphors with his discography as the soundtrack. Unlike Lamar’s, however, Mr. Ocasio took this opportunity to provide more of a framework for the education behind his music. As evidence, it only took 24 hours for educators and historians to interpret the various historical and contemporary symbols on display.

    (Notably, Petra R. Rivera-Rideau and Vanessa Díaz wrote an opinion piece related to their book on Bad Bunny’s politics. I saw this carousel from @salsamarii and this well-researched piecefrom Elisabet Velazquez, too. Melany Centeno also broke down the dancing in this recent YouTube video. Feel free to show them love.)

    From the opening interpolation of Antony Santos’ music to the light blue in the Puerto Rican flag, Ocasio presented a Latin America that doesn’t make it into millions of homes in the United States. He showcases multiple influences to his personal and musical sides. He then recognizes the current plight of the Puerto Rican diaspora, and gives a well-placed shout-out to his inner child. Even the various recognizable faces in his show (Ricky Martin, Cardi B, Pedro Pascal) felt like touchstones to different parts of his ambition. The breadth of symbols provide material from which to understand him, but also the people who empathize with him personally and culturally.

    In the United States, much of the backlash to his performance parallels the rancor towards culturally responsive sustaining education. Millions have pushed back against censorship laws, but it’s not enough. While policies against inclusive education remain vague, educators and schools have felt the silencing effects. The fear of ending up in a raging fascist’s social media feed or on the cover of a yellow rag is palpable. For the small yet powerful group of pundits, the mere mention of a character misaligned with their version of “normal” is out of bounds. 

    This cynical and petty view of curricula stands in stark contrast to a praxis that points towards a shared humanity. What would it mean for teachers to ask students, “Who and what shapes your world?”. What if we asked them to create an interdisciplinary project and used this (or Lamar’s) half-time show as a reference for what they include? We have activities similar to this in our art classes for example. This feels like a humanities lesson, but I can imagine these conversations can spark other connections. Bad Bunny’s open critique of LUMA has connections to science, for instance. 

    As a sociologist, I’m constantly looking at how our personal dimensions connect with the interpersonal, systemic, and institutional layers. Social sciences shouldn’t be limited to higher education, though. In a way, music like Mr. Ocasio’s offers a way to make complex topics palatable and relatable to the masses. “LO QUE LO PASÓ A HAWAII” is an extended allusion to the plight of colonized islands. “DtMF” metaphorically shows his longing for a more utopian Puerto Rico against a politically tenuous backdrop. 

    How are students wrestling with their dimensions? How do they wish to demonstrate that in our world?

    Learning is steeped in identity. The learning will look different, though not lesser, because of who they are. Amidst critical discussions about race, sexual orientation, and disability, we know the role culture plays in learning. Our students deserve arenas where they get to learn as much about themselves as they do about others. As the show progressed in the Bay Area, Bad Bunny tied in communities far and wide by name and flag. This version of diversity, equity, and inclusion creates an environment that feels additive without harming onlookers. It’s an invitation to appreciation without appropriation. 

    Relatedly, the “other” halftime show headlined by Kid Rock, shot two weeks prior with paid actors in the audience, offered the type of show that told its audience, “You don’t have to go further than this.” The pyrotechnics felt cheap and the lip-synching lacking care for watchers and performers alike. Unfortunately, our schools, plagued by scripted curricula, AI tools, and over-testing, know this dehumanization too well. 

    By the time the performers paraded the flags of the western hemisphere i.e. South, Central, and North Americas, we got the clarion call from Ocasio to rethink how we understand the function of borders. Armed, masked men terrify (United States of) American citizens with state-sanctioned violence. This fact has remained true since before 1776. However, any semblance of contemporary American democracy has come from the descendants of people who’ve survived America’s worst. Where Lamar represents for many the descendants of chattel slavery, Ocasio represents descendants of historical and contemporary colonization. 

    Surely, Bad Bunny wasn’t starting a revolution with his performance, not in the middle of a billion-dollar football game sponsored by multi-billion dollar corporations. But mirth and celebration facing up against empire’s worst is not an unfamiliar strand in many people’s histories. 

    Bad Bunny’s curriculum offers a chance to remember to do better. Again, I ask: will America do better?