“Love that.”

For the past two days I have had the privilege to partner with parents as we connected, discussing that which matters most: our kids. Okay, not our kids, technically. But when one comes to call them his kids day after day, he begins to consider them as such and care for them as much. Can’t help it. One of my many weaknesses. Kids.

In the partnering that conferences created, I had many great conversations with parents about teaching, learning, parenting, grading, “teenaging,” “humaning,” and many other “-ings.” We laughed, we wondered, one cried, we clarified, and we…connected. We connected. One such connection was with a school board member whose daughter I am blessed to have in my room each day. She is the one who voiced, “Love that,” at the top of the page. We were discussing my retake/redo policies in conjunction with the stress that our children experience, and she appreciated that I could grant some grace for kids who, as she reminded me, “carry too much.” Of course, I didn’t really need reminding. I see it, live it, and fight it every day. But I was heartened to hear a board member speak this truth. I was also pleased to share that there are things we can do to support kids, to lessen their loads. And, of course, I was happy to plant that seed with she who takes part in creating policy in our district. No, she and the board will not likely push for district-wide retakes, but she might help influence some change in that direction. Any change in that direction.

Another connection linked me to Jack’s dad. Remember, Jack? He is the one who indicated in his email home that he did not feel his performance scores were fair. Jack and I–as I vowed would happen–had already cleared things up, but I was happy to achieve even greater clarity with his parents. And what began as a disappointment, ended in a triumph because we connected. We connected. 

Some of my favorite connections were, “We just wanted to meet you and thank you.” Of course, we still sat down and discussed progress, but our initial connection was around the mutual joy shared by their child and me. Joy. Not sure there is another word for it. Feels like joy to me, and I want to believe that it feels like joy to them, too.

And though the connections are joyful and powerful, they are fleeting, for time separates, and it’s already threatening to diminish the connections we have made. And that saddens me. We only have sixty days left. Sixty days to continue our journey, to strengthen our connections. But it will end. It always does. It will end, and they will leave. Some will stay connected. Others will fade into the horizon. And what was will no longer be. It’s a hard truth we teachers learn. But after twenty-two years, I have learned it is the way of things. But I fight it anyway. It’s the windmill that I tilt at. And for the next sixty days I will arm myself by deepening my connections with kids so they won’t forget so quickly when we make our inevitable part at the end of the path, where I will take one last, pathetic pass at the windmill.

Today’s Trail

…we will begin and reconnect with Smiles and Frowns.

…introduce parallel structure.

…continue and complete our Table Talk from last week.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.