’Tis the season for giving. How one chooses to give, and why, says a lot about a person. Most of us go to the store, pick up a gift, wrap it neatly (or haphazardly), and forget about it. That’s what most people do, and, let’s face it, that’s what most people expect. But Logan Gedroic is not like most people, and that begins with his offbeat hobby: painting shoes.

“I like to say that I make ‘stupid art’,” he explains with a wry smile. But despite the name he’s coined for his style, which he also refers to as pop or bubblegum art, Logan is confident in its value. “I think in order to create ‘stupid art,’ you’ve got to be pretty creative,” he insists. “The way I like to paint is I start with something dumb and then I can add this here, and that there, and it takes being creative and maybe a little bit of sense of humor.” A few years ago, he took this irreverent approach to art and applied it, quite literally, to sneakers.

It was the holidays, and an eighth-grade Logan wanted to do something different, something more. “I always like making gifts for people that require effort, rather than just spending,” he explains. His cousin introduced him to the idea of painting shoes, and soon Logan was painting shoes for family members, including his grandparents.

Soon enough, he bought equipment for it and set up a station in his house to work on his newfound hobby, which he sold through word of mouth or occasionally through inquiries he received on social media. He kept himself busy with art, along with basketball, and, in the meantime, fended off questions about his future.

***

Logan talks so enthusiastically about art that it seemed natural enough to ask if art school was a part of the plan. But the question prompted a shift in his friendly demeanor.

“I’m not the biggest fan of that question,” he says pointedly.

It’s safe to say most people want to be certain of their path in the future, and, in the illusion of that certainty, they feel a sense of control in how it will all unfold. That’s how most people think. But as we’ve established, Logan is not like most people. He gets asked this question a lot—where does he want to go to school?—and when he points out he’s only a junior, he gets hit with a standard followup—what does he want to be? “I don’t know,” he says, somewhat exasperated. “I feel like it’s impossible to know.”

He rattles off the pressures and expectations. “You have to make a beeline to college,” he says, “and then college is so important… and then getting out of college is so important… and then knowing exactly what you want to be…” at this his voice trails off.

Logan likes the whole not knowing part. “I don’t want to know because I don’t want to close myself off,” he says, brimming with a bit of hope. “I feel like if you’re tied down—sometimes you can get more done—but there is a nice feeling of just freely being able to do what you want.”

So Logan has kept busy, pushing himself creatively, and academically, too. Sometimes, as was the case with Upper School Math Teacher Alex Joujan’s math class last year, one challenge inspires another.

***

“Math is a polarizing subject,” admits Mr. Joujan. 

By the time Logan entered sophomore year math, he had convinced himself the entire subject was not his forte. And, as so often happens in these cases, he labeled himself accordingly.

“I struggled in math—I always have,” insists Logan quickly. And so it was with some indifference that he found himself in Mr. Joujan’s AATH class last year. For those wondering, AATH stands for Advanced Algebra & Trigonometry Honors. If that sounds hard, it’s because it is. What was someone who “struggles in math” doing in AATH?

“That’s a pretty good class to be in when you’re ‘not good at math’,” points out Mr. Joujan ironically, using air quotes to echo how his former student describes his aptitude for a subject that he is, by Mr. Joujan’s estimation, pretty good at. “He was good enough that he was a ninth grader in Honors Geometry—which is a hard class.”

When the coursework became difficult, Logan would stop by Mr. Joujan’s office and go over the assignment, something he still does to this day. Mr. Joujan, who also writes popular math curricula that are used by students in more than 40 states, wants to see his students succeed. “I really believe that everybody can learn math,” he says, “but it’s important to remember that everybody will not achieve the same level of understanding.”

Mr. Joujan wants to dispel the notion that if a student finds math tough, they are simply not good at it. “Let’s go ahead and try and develop some skill and support to get better at it,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean that’s your identity at the end of the effort,” he emphasizes. “You still have other things that make you who you are.” The intrinsic value of each student—‘good’ in math or not—is a deeply held conviction of Mr. Joujan. “You can be ‘bad at math’ and still have other things that make you amazing and impressive and you are doing things that you should feel good about.” This is something he is on the lookout for. “I see myself as a teacher who wants to help you learn as much as you can, but also, I want to release you from that feeling… that thought that how you do in math can make you feel like you’re not able to do the same things that someone else who is successful at math can do. I don’t like that,” he says. “So those are two parallel roles that I have.”

Mr. Joujan and Logan built a rapport over time, one that consisted of challenging coursework (“He kicked my butt in math,” Logan puts it more plainly), but Mr. Joujan made sure to encourage him in other ways. “I would tell him, ‘You can do better than this’. Partly because I could tell he could do better, and I just wanted to show him that I believe that.” When they weren’t reviewing the coursework, they were discussing other interests, like art. ”Inevitably, I’ll ask a kid to tell me about themselves,” he says. “‘Tell me about yourself outside of the fact that we’re in math class right now. What are things I don’t know about you?’ And so Logan shared with me one time that he really likes painting sneakers. And I thought that was so cool.”

As the year progressed, Logan’s efforts in math were reflected in his improving grades and improving confidence, something he is still grateful to his former teacher for. “He’s just a really nice guy,” Logan says of Mr. Joujan. “He’s always there to help me. I still go to talk to him.”

As the end of the year approached, Logan got to thinking about the impact his teacher had on him. “That’s the kind of person I want to spend my effort making something for—to give back to.” So he had an idea. He emailed a few of Mr. Joujan’s colleagues in the Math Department and quietly gathered research—what were Mr. Joujan’s interests? What was his shoe size?—and then, in the span of one epic all nighter, he painted his former teacher a pair of shoes.

“His reaction was awesome,” he says with a smile.

“I was in my math office,” Mr. Joujan recalls. It was close to final exams, and Logan walked in with a shoe box. “When I opened the box, I was genuinely stunned. Absolutely shocked. Deeply, profoundly amazed that he had spent all night doing this. My eyes started to tear up,” he says with a smile. “Not that I have anything against crying, but in the moment, I didn’t want to start sobbing. But I had that level of emotional feeling about it. Just so deeply appreciative. And amazed at how cool they look.” The shoes were painted with a Canadian theme— a nod to Mr. Joujan’s dual citizenship—and featured the logo for Summit Math, the popular curriculum he writes to help students like Logan in math.

“My mind was rewinding… realizing all the things that had to happen for me to have this in my hand,” he says. “And I know that math class doesn’t make him feel good about himself typically, but I can see, over the course of the year, that math class was actually starting to be something he was okay with and having more success in. And I definitely see that this year, which is really cool. He’s in Honors Pre-Calculus, which is a hard class. And he’s just fine! He’s doing better than he was in AATH,” he says, beaming with pride at his former student.

***

Years ago, during the holidays, an eighth-grade Logan Gedroic learned how to paint shoes. He wanted to do more for those who do more for him. In doing so, he offered a reminder of the impact a teacher can have—and how showing gratitude can often leave one speechless.

“I don’t take for granted the type of connections that I have with certain people,” says Logan. Gone is the irreverent tone, replaced instead with sincerity. “The teachers in this school are really amazing.”

Above the desk in his office, Mr. Joujan keeps the pair of shoes, a reminder of the impact he had, and a pretty cool conversation piece. “When people see them they ask ‘What is that?!’” he says. “Because they’re painted shoes! That alone is like whoa, those are neat!”

Logan has painted Stranger Things–themed shoes for his close friend at school, Gabe Raykin '26, as well as Middle School Science Teacher Shauna Leffler, his advisor in the Middle School, who he occasionally sees wearing them in the halls. It makes him feel good knowing he can express gratitude for the impact some people have had on him.

“It’s very fulfilling to me that I know I’ve gone out of my way to do something for another who has gone out of their way for me—except, instead of words, maybe shoes is my medium to show appreciation,” he says. “And literally no one—no one—do I take for granted.” He emphasizes this last part again. “I just don’t take anyone for granted.”

And then, mixing irreverence and sincerity all at once, he smiles. “I like making pairs of shoes for people that have really helped me out.”

 

***

 

Top photo by Anthony "Truncs" Truncale '26

 

To contact the author: Sara Courtney