Day Twelve. It’s not enough. But it will have to do. A “return to work” offered some sanity, but as I look ahead, and if I am honest, this isn’t the same, and it’s going to be a struggle to maintain an upbeat attitude for the long road ahead. I need more. And I feel guilty for saying that with all that is going on in the world. I am aware of the selfishness in my statement, and I am sorry that it is so, but it is so. This–teaching–is my identity, and right now, I feel like I have lost myself a bit. I will discover and recover parts of myself from all this, but that is down the road. Right now, I am stuck, staring at my “self fish” reflection on the bowl of my isolation.
Sorry to be a downer, all. Just trying to work through this. I will swim out of it. As I seek to…
Day Eleven. This week we are finally able to provide some distance learning opportunities for kids. Here is an introductory statement I am sharing with my kids as we head back to work.
Morning, all. Here is your first assignment. Please read all directions carefully, but more importantly ask for clarification on anything that doesn’t make sense–anything. I am here to help. The assignment should take no longer than an hour. So, please don’t spend more than that. Once you have turned it in, I will respond with feedback. I am sorry that we have to do this in this manner, but I am grateful that we have a way to work, to learn together again. I miss you all. Please–please–ask for help. I miss that part of us. It’s like it’s a need for me. Let me help. ~sy
I am not sure what this will all look like now that we are “rolling it out.” I imagine we–the adults–will learn and adjust as we move forward with the academic side of things. As for the social-emotional side of things, I have had connection opportunities in place since day one–which was, has been, and will still be my priority as we wade through this. Connections are the primary constant. All the other stuff is secondary. That hasn’t changed. We are connected.
My kids know this. I know this. We know this. We know.
Day Ten. End of another week in a weird world. Still processing what all this “new” means–for now and later. At present, I am going to force my focus on the now. But, for me, that’s a struggle, for the later pulls, and I am itching to use this moment–one that I believe may end up being a watershed moment in education–to leverage “better” when this all settles. But that is going to have to wait, and it will, but there’s no denying the itch or my go-to scratch: critiquing what is to find what may be. But that will come —later.
For now, I am going to focus on supporting my kids, going with the flow, and giving grace to our leaders during this unprecedented time. For now.
Day Nine. As everything has changed without, nothing has changed within. In the Project 180 classroom, learning is a trust, an agreement that true learning is an act of responsibility, an act of ownership. As much, teaching is a trust, an agreement that true teaching is an act of responsibility, an act of ownership. A mutual trust.
We trust. I trust that they will take responsibility and ownership for their learning. I carry no carrots. I stow no sticks. I have no interest in their compliance. I have a keen interest in their commitment.
And they. They trust that I trust, that I am true to my word that they are driving the car, that I have acknowledged and respected their ownership of the vehicle–their learning–as I sit beside them, an experienced passenger with a map in hand, ready to help them navigate the wonders of their worlds within and without. We trust.
But trust is no simple thing. Trust takes time. Trust lets go. Trust transcends the immediate and looks to the long term. Trust succeeds. Trust fails. Trust dies. Trust grows. Trust does a lot of things, but in the end, trust trusts.
Look, all fancy words aside. I have to trust my kids to learn. Yes, for some that works better than for others. Some want the promise of the carrot and the fear of the stick. That’s been their conditioning. But those wants are not needs. They don’t need promise and fear. They need trust. So, I trust them. And now, with recent events shaking the very foundations of our institution, it seems trust is more appropriate than ever. So, I will trust my kids to take responsibility for and ownership of their learning. That hasn’t changed. The world has, and that, I believe, points us to trust as we navigate this uncharted territory.
Day Eight. Was able to make “official contact” with my kids today. As we have waited on direction from the state, things have been in a holding pattern as we try to create a plan that creates an equitable experience for kids. And though we will certainly have to make adjustments as we journey forth, we are poised to move forward with the academic side of things starting Monday, March 30.
Of course, as this is uncharted territory, I am not entirely sure yet–will know more in the next few days–what this is going to look like. So, for now, I am planning to go with the flow, and even though I find the situation less-than-ideal, I believe we are attempting to do what we can until we learn better. Seems it’s all we can do. It’s a step.
Day Seven. Not much to say today. Hard to muster material when I am not in the classroom. So, I am not going to force it. Hope all are well out there. I will check back in tomorrow.
Day Six. Not sure where I am with all this this morning. Still adjusting. Still pondering purpose. Still hoping that the little I am doing to connect with my kids is helping. Still trying —struggling–to put on a happy face amidst all this and be a model for my family, my students, my colleagues, my community, myself. Still.
And as still remains, I will try to find some stillness to process this. I hope we can all find some stillness in this. I seek it in the outdoors. My wife finds it in her art. My son finds it in his games. My daughter finds it in her horse. May we all find the still we seek in the ripples of this reality.
Day Five. Distance divides. And, as we are social, emotional beings, this new distance, this new divide has made our need for each other more clear–and we’re only at the earliest stages of this unprecedented experience. And so, we need to fill the need as best we can by checking in on each other. Yesterday, readers Joy Kirr, Erin Gaudet, Cecelia Mizzoni, and Elise Foster checked in with me, sensing my need here in the divide, and that made a world of difference, in a world of weird right now. Four check-ins mattered, and so this morning, sitting in the dark, drinking my second cup of coffee, I came up with Check In Challenge. Thank you, ladies, for the inspiration. Thank you for checking in on me.
So, let’s harness that power over the coming weeks by checking in on four people per day. Doesn’t have to be a big step. Just a step. Just a simple, “How ya doing?” Even small steps like this can bring us together. We need together.
Day three. Struggling some. Teaching is so much a part of my life, my identity that I am feeling a little lost. Connecting with my kids via Smiles and Frowns is helping, but the whole life-on-hold reality is settling in, and it’s hard than I thought it would be. I know most of you feel the same. I just keep telling myself that we will get through this. One day at a time.
