Kelly Davis

It’s easy to be kind 💕✨

@gaialearning These are beautiful! 🤩

Huge thank you to artist Alice Hesketh for joining our Lower School Arts class for a portrait workshop. Our learners were engaged, confident, and proud of their work. We’re proud of them, and proud to offer experiences like this through flexible provision. #PAOTY #AliceHesketh

@p_millerd So pumped to hear this! What an exciting adventure for you all!

im traveling with 20 other families and I do have to say, the village basically works. with enough people leaning into regular shared time (we have 4x weekly hangs + many more informal ones) the informal connections just happen across ages and families. its really beautiful

.@pmarca on how to give your kid an unfair advantage

@Geoffiam x.com/kelly_edtech/s…

@Kelly_EdTech Costs?

@_johnjaxon 10k/yr before ESAs. So in states like FL/ AZ, it would be closer to 2.5k/yr.

@Kelly_EdTech How much is it?

@MarcoDaSilva @AlphaSchoolATX Alpha Anywhere is a U.S.-based learning platform built for families homeschooling under U.S. or Canadian laws. It works anywhere with the internet, but is intended for use within the U.S. and Canada.

@Kelly_EdTech @AlphaSchoolATX Will you be launching an international offering in the near future?

@MarioHachemer @winterrose @jarlbillclinton Get on their level and learn with alongside. Unless you’re a robot expert, you are likely learning this at the same time. Ie. Where does this piece go? I don’t know but let’s figure it out together.

@winterrose @jarlbillclinton The problem is not the ability to explain the stuff in a kid friendly manner, it's that, at least for my kids, it's just not aligned to the way they learn these things. Would love to be proven wrong though.

the kids (9 & 8) asked for a computer so I made a quest for them: build an Apple 1 from scratch and get a MacBook Air. kit just arrrived, I’ll keep you posted

@triciapickren @memrise and Drops

Do any of y’all have a suggestion for an app that teaches a foreign language that’s not Duolingo?

After nearly 44 years on this earth I can say with 100% certainty that you shouldn’t do business with people who treat servers poorly. It’s a sign of how they were raised and what your future relationship will look like.

@pedagogydad @NielsHoven These are the same outcomes at the campus that is 10k, too.

@NielsHoven If you charge $40k a year, you'll tend to get high test scores from the kids, regardless of the educational model.

A real life skill that comes from a school! 🤩 @AlphaSchoolATX

@turing_hamster @gtmom They definitely are hitting over 2x - this is the average. High school also spends more than 2hrs!

@gtmom right now the kids learn 2x, and frankly the software still has a lot of room to improve im optimistic that the kids could learn 3x or 4x when the apps are fully matured

Another way to look at this: I have a child at Alpha who is honestly kind of difficult, she does not consistently complete her apps, and wastes 20% of that time to boot. She *still* completed enough lessons to learn 2x the baseline expectation, at regular school.

@uwwgo Great example of learning how to learn about our own bodies instead of relying on others to apply another bandaid fix. 🙌

true story: I've had an incredibly sharp, stabbing pain in my chest a few times in my life. Left side, sudden onset, directly above heart area. Stays for a few minutes. Obviously very scary, first time it happened I thought I might be having a heart attack. End of the road shit. Went to cardiologist, got ecg and sonar. Cardiologist essentially shrugged "🤷 idk, I don't see anth, next patient pls I'm busy". I thought maybe it could be pericarditis or myocarditis or smth, very worrisome, but blood test didn't show anth either. A few months later it happened again, and eventually I went to another cardiologist, same thing. I'm 28, very active, and generally healthy. Having what feels like a heart attack multiple times is very worrisome, and it's even worse when doctors have no clue. You don't want to be 1/n statistic and get a new disease named after you. Today it happened again!! I'm lying in bed, sudden extreme sharp chest pain, "oh no I'm gonna die, again :(". I lay on my side, which I've found instantly relieves the pain. What do I do? I chat with AI about my symptoms, history etc. AI manages what no doctor has been able to so far: gives me a quite likely diagnosis! Precordial catch syndrome is cited, a completely benign condition that is not that uncommon. Incredible. I perform an ecg at home with my whoop 5 health device, all good. Blood pressure test with cuff, also good. I do one sharp inhalation as suggested (I was doing slow shallow breaths so it didn't hurt), pain suddenly lifts. After some googling I'm pretty sure precordial catch syndrome is correct and it's what I have been experiencing. HUGEE relief. (obviously double and triple check, write down your symptoms before you google/ask Ai to not get placebo-sniped, etc. Do your DD.) The traditional medical system is so bad. Doctors are overworked, don't care about patients only a few symptoms, holistic review is exceedingly rare, misdiagnoses are plentiful. It's expensive af. It's reactionary, not preventative. The whole experience sucks. AI & health tech wearables are changing this so drastically. Future is bright. Whenever I see a pic of a doctor using chatgpt I'm not horrified, like many are; I'm saying hell yeah. We need more of that. Much more. This isn't my first bad experience with the medical system and I'm sure many of you have had similar stories. I totally understand some people abandoning it and going into smth crazy like homeopathy or whtv, like Steve Jobs (who died bcuz of this). Obviously that's the wrong move, but i understand the motivation. It can be very frustrating. But there's hope: Tech is making healthcare good again!

Walking is nature's antidepressant

@natemcgrady I’m that person, except I despise ketchup and olives.

it’s crazy that some people like ketchup but not tomatoes that’s like liking olive oil but not olives

@HeidiBriones Start a morning walking group.

How do you make non-drinking friends when you're older? Must I play pickleball? Please say no.

@AmandaMGoetz @mvarghoose Yes please! 🙏

@mvarghoose Might need to start a substack just to reconnect with you all!!

I really feel like every woman I used to connect with on here is no longer here. My entire FYP and Following is all men.

@will_mannon I can feel your aliveness awakening through each set and love reading these anecdotes. And also can’t wait for them to become a book someday!

14 minutes. No script. No English. Good luck. That’s how I spent the last Friday in April. I'm a standup comedian in China. My comedy club in Kunming runs a monthly crowdwork contest. Six contestants. 100+ people watching. For 14 minutes you chop it up with the audience, riffing your way to laughs. First place gets 1,000 yuan (about $140 USD) and temporary glory in Kunming’s budding comedy scene. (Three clubs serve 8+ million residents. Few speak English; everything’s in Mandarin.) That’s why I found myself in the All Things Comedy (全是喜剧) green room last Friday night, waiting to hear my name called. How was I spending my precious pre-show minutes? Reviewing vocab? Brainstorming premises? Not quite. I was on LinkedIn. I live a double life. Each day starts with four hours of 1:1 Mandarin class. Evenings you’ll find me at open mics around Kunming, working new jokes. When the last show ends, Day 2 begins: I’m building a company, Act Two, by night. Co-founder Dan Sleeman lives in Toronto. With the 12-hour time difference, this second day runs 9:30pm to 4am. Then I crash til 10:30 or 11:00am, roll straight to Chinese class and do it again. Sound like torture? To me, it’s heaven. I’ve found three activities (Chinese, standup, startup) I feel unequivocally called to do. Fully aligned. One flow-state activity would be lucky. Three is sublime. All day, every day, I’m doing what I’m meant to do. This feeling can’t be forced or faked. I’ve simply found my things, and consider myself lucky. Back to LinkedIn. Dan and I have chosen Friday, April 25th as the Act Two company launch day. My final step: publish our Act Two kickoff announcement across platforms. After writing all afternoon, I have a 30 minute window to fire off the announcement in the green room before taking the stage. But I’ve hit a snag: LinkedIn’s word count. I’m 900 characters over. So I scramble, cutting unnecessary lines, trying to limbo under the 3,000 character limit. As I smash backspace, the theater’s music starts. The host takes the stage. She explains the contest, the rules, teaching the audience not to get offended (standup is new in China; they’re learning). Almost done tweaking, about to publish. Suddenly I hear words echoing throught the green room: “好的，我们第一个演员...” (Okay, our first contestant for tonight is….). Yikes. My mind isn’t ready. LinkedIn and comedy don’t exactly jive. Mercifully, my name isn’t called. Back to pruning. Luck buys me 14 minutes. Finally, the post is done. Bombs away. LinkedIn, Substack, and Twitter are all graced with the cheery news (“I am thrilled to announce…”). One more 14 minute break. Then my name is called. Crowdwork in English is hard. In a second language it’s psychotic. You have to simultaneously 1) Understand what the audience is saying, 2) Think of a witty response, 3) Express that response, without pausing, all with correct vocab and perfect tones. The crowd doesn’t care that you’re a foreigner speaking their language. Their only standard is: Are you funny? Tonight’s guests are warmed up and getting rowdy. As I take the stage, a bright orange button-down-clad guy yells something. No clue what he said. I quip, Thanks dude, I completely understand, then turn and explain, Whenever a foreigner says ‘I completely understand, it means they have no clue what you just said.’ Decent laughter. And we’re off! The set’s a blur. I tumble between topics: local city stereotypes (You’re from Chuxiong? No wonder you’re hammered!), workplace customs (Why do Chinese bosses work you to death?), cultural differences (Anyone here ever fired a gun? Just me?). There’s a back-and-forth with someone from Zhaotong, western China’s Idaho; I razz them about loving potatoes. With two minutes left, I pull the ripcord with a practiced bit about the “Chinese squat” toilets. They like that one. And, scene. I do not win the contest. My Italian-born classmate tells me I “did pretty good.” She’s being polite. It was rough. But I survived, with enough scattered fits of laughter to keep me hungry for improvement. I’ll take it. That’s Friday night. Saturday is free. On Sunday, our club owner sends me an address for a hotel 30 minutes across town. Upon arrival I see rows of white flowers, a red carpet photoshoot backdrop, dozens of sharply-dressed Chinese yuppies. Are we performing at a wedding? Turns out, it’s a party celebrating the launch of a new skincare products company. I’m ushered up to a rooftop. Barbecue smoke sizzles over rows of grills. Late afternoon sunlight blankets the Kunming skyline in orange-gold glow. Chefs, swanky guests, a table set to the nines, a stage, a microphone….a grin floods my face. How is this my life? February was my first open mic. It went terribly. But I returned for night two with a fresh five minutes and a defiant attitude. Went much better. And just like that, I was hooked. Ten weeks later, this rooftop gig will be my 73rd show (including ~20 paid). I accidentally became a professional standup comedian in China. The show goes well. Bright lights, hot crowd, fun time. So much easier with prepared jokes. The next night I hit an open mic, working two new jokes (“Why are there so few Indian people in China?” and “Middle-aged American mothers are addicted to Chinese short-form dramas”). I drill the wording with my Chinese teachers all afternoon. I’ll be debuting these jokes at a “Tight Five” contest on Wednesday. Gotta be crisp. Tuesday night I have two more open mics. The smaller weeknight crowds are hit-or-miss. Despite another four hours of 1:1 practice, the first show misses big. Crowd’s dead. Everything falls flat. In my cab ride across town, I start to doubt my Tight Five set. Should I use old material instead? Open Mic venue #2 is a small tea house downtown. I find 25 guests crammed together on tiny wooden chairs. Max capacity. My first joke is barely off my lips (“Oh my Goddd” in local Kunming dialect) and already I feel the night-and-day different. They love it! I work into the India and short-form drama bits. Practice pays off – raucous laughter is soon bouncing off the cozy tea house walls. Validation. Relief. A touch of bliss. I’m ready for the contest. Wednesday arrives. I walk ~30 minutes to More Than Comedy (不止喜剧), the rival crosstown club, host of tonight’s Tight Five competition. I’ve added a few extra Chinese drama titles, more salacious the better (Ex: “I married a homeless billionaire”; “I ripped my scumbag ex-boyfriend online.”) For a zany closing punchline, I’ve chosen: “My sperm donor turned out to be my cousin”. Gross, bizarre. Comedy-sans-context sounds weird. But I believe this final zinger will punch things up a notch. The Mandarin is tricky, so I drill as I walk. Which is why, on a balmy evening in western China, I find myself navigating a sea of black-haired pedestrians, quietly whispering “sperm donor” under my breath 150 times straight like a kinky machine gun. The life of an artist. Upon arrival, the green room is tense. Anticipation swirls as the twelve contestants make light small talk, subtly sizing each other up. Tonight’s top three winners will be “passed”, eligible to perform paid shows. “More Than Comedy” is Kunming’s oldest club (est. 2019), with the best pay and biggest crowds. Everyone wants to win. Go time. Performance order is by random draw. Eleven Chinese comedians and yours truly huddle-up stage left, awaiting each name. Round after round it’s the same result: Not me, not me, not me. After each drawing I dash to the back of the theater to watch my competition. Some contestants draw modest laughter. Others reach a crack-the-ceiling level decibels. Some heavy hitters showed up tonight. Ten down, two to go. My name still uncalled. Finally, there it is: “Please welcome to the stage 马晓伟！” On I run. This bigger venue has a blinding white spotlight. I can barely see the ~200 crowd members. Muscle memory kicks in and off I go, joke after joke. A few stumbles but overall I’m rolling. The new stuff lands well. My closer closes. A burst of applause. As I exit stage left I look up: Any cracks? Time for results. Audience members have been given yellow plastic clickers upon entrance; they up-vote or downvote after each comedian (surprisingly democratic for a place not exactly know for the vote). 3rd, 2nd and 1st place are called onstage.  I’m not among them. The winner gives an apparently hilarious acceptance speech that I don’t fully understand. But then the full results arrive: a hand-scribbled tally is shared via WeChat. Yours truly has landed 5th place among 12, with 126 upvotes and only 6 downvotes. After all those hours of practice, I’m pleased. 5th place with only 2.5 months of experience. 5th place as the only-foreign born contestant. A solid showing with room to grow. That night, same as all nights, I cab back to the swanky Kunming Shangri-La Hotel, home to my office (a lightly-used first floor restaurant with decent Wifi and 24/7 hours). While en route, I reflect on the contest: the lines that landed, the punchlines I flubbed. After all that practice I botched the sperm donor line. It’s supposed to be 1st-1st-4th tone, I accidentally said 1st-4th-4th (flat-down-down). To the western ear it’s barely perceptible; to the Chinese it’s the equivalent of mistaking “beach” for “bitch”. A totally different word. All that practice and I still got it wrong. It’s true what they say: learning Chinese is a ten-year lesson in humility. But there’s no time to ponder tonal differences. I’m on to Zoom for a marathon meeting with Dan; our company launches in two days, and we have a mountain of landing page feedback to crank through. Four hours and about 600 microdecisions later, we’re done. I walk next door to my school-provided apartment and crash. A day well spent. _________ Thurday brings two more shows. It’s the start of China’s Labor Day holiday, which means the next five days will all be paid shows rather than open mics. Post-competition I’m extremely relaxed, and both shows flow easily. No pressure, pure fun. I work in a new joke about a teacher trying to lose weight who’s addicted to milk tea; it works. Friday night I perform on the main stage of our biggest theater. It’s a full house. Great turnout, lively show. Then it’s a dash across town to our newest location, an enclosed Chinese-style courtyard surrounded by an old wooden buidling. A real Eastern ambiance. Past shows here have been a modest 30 or 40 people, which is what I’m expecting tonight. Halfway there I hail a cab, and arrive with three minutes to spare. As I step inside I feel a rush of energy. The place is jammed: all main seats full, and we’ve added dozens of extra seats on either side. Probably 150 people in this tight-knit, traditional Chinese atmosphere. I wave to my buddies 梁同学 and 严厉亲 who performed early. Waiting my turn, the feeling hits me again: How is this my life? I stretch a bit, take a drink, then that string of words: “For our final guest, please welcome to the stage our foreign friend, Ma XiaoWei!” My 80th show begins, and based on the buzzing room, I know it’ll be among the top. Up I jog, bright lights hot against my skin, the crowd murmuring as they see an oversized foreigner grab the mic. Then a hush. I breathe deep. And then, brimming with a sweet satisfaction that’s hard to describe, I start to speak Chinese. ___________ After leaving my last company, Write of Passage, I moved to China and dove right into my next act: learning Chinese. My part-time obsession suddenly became my full-time calling. 18 months later, I’m enjoying my next act as a standup comedian in China. Now, my co-founder Dan Sleeman and I have built Act Two to help others tackle a creative project to kickstart their next act, whether professional or personal. We firmly believe that a completed creative project is the key step needed to launch a thrilling next chapter, one that’s aligned with your deepest talents and truest calling. Act Two exists to help you take that bold first step toward whatever’s next. The program begins on September 3rd. Learn more at the link below.

@levelsio Uzo SIM works w 5G. Found one at a mini Mercado

Power still down in Spain and Portugal All internet is gone too cause the 4G masts ran out of battery power, at least in Portugal, don't know Spain Phone calls don't even work anymore! Also I heard many gas stations in Portugal can't pump gasoline cause their pumps work on electricity Only internet we have is in the Continente supermarket which I'm typing this on 😂 We went to buy an analog battery radio at Radio Popular and they're all sold out already! 📻

Just a wee blackout over the… entire Iberian peninsula