The Difference Between Being Welcomed and Being Used

On speaking at conferences and other events:

I’ve spoken at more conferences than I can count, from corporate ballrooms to college lecture halls, from events that ran like symphonies to ones that felt more like garage bands missing a drummer.

Some events treat speakers like respected guests. Others treat them like content cattle, herded in and out without a word.

I just wanted to tell you about the good ones.

There was Lotusphere, back in the day. If you know, you know. Rocky Oliver, Susan Bulloch, and the team made it feel like home. You showed up, and everything worked: travel, tech, timing, etc. You weren’t a slot on the agenda. You were part of a living, breathing community. And you left knowing your work mattered.

Fast-forward to the CS50 Educators Conference at Harvard University, and the magic was still alive. Bernie Longboy? A total rock star. Thoughtful, organized, deeply human. She ensured that sessions ran smoothly and that you felt welcome.

And here’s the kicker: it was my 60th birthday while there. You know what they did? They surprised me by singing Happy Birthday. They gave out cupcakes to all of the attendees. Mine even had a candle. I’ve never forgotten it. Because it wasn’t performative. It was personal. It was real.

Compare that with another event I spoke at in May 2024, a gathering of Washington State 911 leaders. The audience? Fantastic. Truly engaged and gracious. But the person who booked me? Not a word before, not a thank-you after, no acknowledgment. I gave a personal talk, shared vulnerable stories, and left the room without a nod. It didn’t just feel awkward. It felt like I didn’t exist.

Thank goodness for Municon 2025, which I spoke at last week. They knew how to do it right. Communication was clear. Support was solid. And they treated me with genuine warmth and respect. It doesn’t take a parade. Just a little consideration.

Because here’s the truth: speaking takes effort. You step away from your day job, your students, and your family. You rehearse. You prepare. You give a piece of yourself.

We only ask to be treated like humans, not placeholders or PowerPoint operators. Say hello, thank you, and offer a pizza or a rubber duck if you’re feeling extra generous. 🤣

Because we’re not here to be grilled. We’re here to bring the fire.

Tenure Made Me a Worse Professor (But I’m Taking It Back)

Today, May 24, marks my second anniversary of tenure. And I’ve got a confession. Tenure made me a worse professor.

Not worse in the “I don’t care anymore” sense. I still show up. I still teach my heart out. I still hand out pizza and rubber ducks, as if they were course materials. But something shifted during that long, grueling tenure process and hasn’t entirely returned.

The tenure process trains you to be careful. You learn to document everything, justify everything, and reflect on everything until your teaching feels more like a performance than a practice. You stop experimenting because experiments might not look great on paper. You stop taking risks because risks don’t always make for clean committee reports.

And if you’re not careful, you start teaching like someone is always watching. Because for a while, someone is.

That’s what happened to me. I slowly backed away from the version of myself who took bold swings and tried weird ideas. I started playing it safe, saying no to chaos and yes to control. I polished everything, trimmed the messy parts, and stopped leaning into the stuff that made my teaching mine.

But here’s the thing. I’m two years in now. I’ve got the stability. The security. The keys to the castle.

And I’m done playing small.

I want the pre-tenure Bruce back, who did things that made students laugh, think, and engage. The one who brought music into lessons. The one who asked, “What if?” instead of “Will this fit in my tenure binder?” The one who knew learning is supposed to be messy, unpredictable, and sometimes a little loud.

If tenure turned down your volume, I hear you. If it made you cautious, you’re not alone. But now that we’re here, we can choose how we show up again.

I’m choosing to take it back, one student, one duck, one slightly chaotic lesson at a time.

Let’s go.

Student Support Takes Time (And No, There’s Still No Pizza)

You wouldn’t walk into a restaurant 2 minutes before closing and expect a full-course meal, right?

So, why do some students show up for office hours two minutes before they end and expect a deep-dive code review, academic therapy session, and life coaching?

I get it. Life is busy, and sometimes the timing doesn’t work out. But just like a good meal (or a good slice of pizza), meaningful help takes time to prepare and serve.

If you need help, feel free to come in earlier. I’m literally doing this on the weekends, too. We can troubleshoot, brainstorm, or even debug your existential crisis. Rubber ducks and pizza references are optional. Office hours aren’t just for emergencies. They’re your reservation for success.

However, I want you to know that I will help you regardless of whether it’s late or last-minute. I’ve got your back.

And if my posted student hours don’t work for you, just let me know. We’ll find a time that does.

Accessibility Is for Everyone: Reflections on GAAD

Thursday, May 15, 2025, marks the 14th anniversary of Global Accessibility Awareness Day (GAAD).

This day is all about sparking conversations, encouraging reflection, and promoting learning around digital inclusion and access for people with disabilities.

Thank you to those who design and build physical and digital things that make the world more accessible for everyone.

At Clark College, accessibility isn’t just an add-on; it’s woven into the foundation of every course in our Web Development program.

#GAAD #GlobalAccessibilityAwarenessDay #A11y

Turning It In Isn’t the Starting Line

We must discuss whether you’re waiting until the assignment due date to care about your work.

Learning to prioritize is part of school and an essential learned skill. I want all my students to understand this: the due date isn’t the day to start working on your assignment. It’s the day you finish it. By the time you hit submit, you should have already asked questions, gotten help, made revisions, and made an effort to complete the assignment.

Students often turn in an assignment and then ask for feedback. This will not make a good impression in an employee/employer relationship. Don’t hand your boss, customer/client, or anyone else relying on you a half-baked project; expect them to be happy with it.

School is your opportunity to learn real-world solutions. It is where you learn to manage your time, advocate for yourself, and build standards of expectation. It is your chance to learn good management practices before facing the expectations and consequences of employment.

My advice is to treat your assignments like they matter before you submit them. Ask questions early, get help, and don’t wait until the last minute to care.

Respect Where It’s Due: Care Workers, This One’s for You

Let’s give it up for the care workers in facilities everywhere. The real MVPs hold it all together while the rest complain about bad Wi-Fi.

You show up. You stay late. You deal with things most people couldn’t handle for five minutes. And you do it with heart, humor, and patience that deserves a medal.

CNAs, nurses, therapists, custodians, and kitchen crews make it all run. You see people at their most vulnerable and still show up with respect and humanity.

So yeah, thank you for your quiet dignity, hustle, and grace. We see you, and honestly, we’d fall apart without you.

More Than Just HTML: Helping Students Believe in Themselves

I teach web development at a community college (Clark College), but let’s be real. Code is only part of the story.

What I teach is confidence, and occasionally, how to stop rage-AI-ing “why won’t my CSS center” at 11 p.m.

Many students show up thinking they’re not “tech people.” They doubt themselves before they’ve even typed <!DOCTYPE html>. Somewhere along the way, someone told them coding is only for hoodie-wearing geniuses or teenage YouTubers building apps in their sleep. I spend most of the quarter showing them that it is nonsense.

Yes, I teach HTML, CSS, JavaScript, Git, PHP, SQL, all the classics. But I also teach you how to fail forward, debug with a rubber duck, use vibe code when the plan falls apart, and not let a missing bracket ruin your day.

We talk about AI a lot because it is not going away. My students know it will not write their code for them, not if they want to pass, but they also learn how to ask it questions, get unstuck, and use it responsibly, like a teammate who never sleeps but sometimes gives wildly wrong advice with full confidence.

My favorite moments are when a student who started the class whispering, “I don’t think I belong here,” ends up staying after to help a classmate debug a form, slice of pizza in hand, casually explaining the event.preventDefault() as if it is no big deal.

Confidence is not something they walk in with. It is something they build: one messy project, one late-night aha moment, and one pizza-fueled study session at a time.

I just hand them the tools. And the duck. They do the rest.

From 48 to 62: A Teacher’s Journey Through Time and Tech

I’ve been thinking a lot lately as I get ready to turn 62 in July.
Thirteen years ago, at the age of 48, I began teaching Web Development at a community college. Back then, the age gap between my students and me didn’t seem like such a big deal. We connected easily. I was an experienced industry professional who still understood them.

Now? The gap feels wider. They’re teenagers and young adults, and I’m well, approaching retirement age. I’ve noticed that building trust, belief, and respect with students has become increasingly challenging. Not impossible, but different. I’m unsure if it’s me, them, the world, or how time works. Probably a little of all of it.

That said, I still see wins. I still have students who light up when they finally “get it,” who stick around after class to ask questions and tell me, months later, that something we discussed had a real impact. Those moments mean everything.
I’m sharing this because I know I’m not alone. If you’re a little (or a lot) older and working with younger generations, have you felt this too?

How are you bridging the gap? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Now available! The Clark College Events Browser Extension

Drowning in event emails? Yeah, me too.

Working at the college means being constantly bombarded with emails about events, most of which get buried in our inboxes before we can even recall what they were about. So, I decided to put an end to the madness.
After carving out an hour (okay, maybe two), I built a Clark College Events browser extension that does one thing really well: shows you all of today and tomorrow’s events in one clean, easy-to-read place.

No more digging through email threads or clicking through scattered webpages. I discovered that each of the event pages has an RSS feed, so I connected the dots and bundled them up. Now, you can see everything in one tidy view.

Click on any of the events to access the corresponding event page on the website.

It’s simple, practical, and yes, it’s free. It’s also accessible.

Install it now

https://chromewebstore.google.com/detail/clark-college-events/kmafihepapkgalfjdgogcgloamkdlkpk?authuser=0&hl=en