Day Seventeen. I suppose I knew it was gonna happen. I’ve had a sneaking suspicion for the last week that some time soon we’d face the inevitability of school closing for the remainder of the year. Yesterday became that “soon” with Governor Inslee announcing that Washington state schools would remain closed.

And even though I “knew,” I wasn’t quite ready for the reality, a reality I haven’t fully processed yet. I won’t ever have class, in person, with these kids again. That’s still sinking in. And it will continue to sink more deeply into me as the days and weeks ahead come and go. But, as emotionally overwhelming as this recent reality is, I cannot let it sink me. I have to keep floating. Kids have also been cast overboard with this newest revelation, and they will need some help getting back to shore. So, though my heart is heavy, I will not let it weigh me down, let it sink me. I have kids who need me. And, in truth, I need them. We will float on. Together. Sad, but not sunk.

Happy Tuesday, all. Stay afloat. Reach out if I can help.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Day Sixteen. Thought I would share this week’s distance learning assignment. As of now, we are being asked to provide one assignment per class per week. The assignments should be review and should take students no more than an hour to complete. Last week we had a reading assignment, so this week we decided to go with a writing assignment.

As such, we decided to ask kids to reflect on their experiences in isolation and to express how they are doing. Trying to create some novelty and relevance, we asked kids to send a message to the world in a bottle. The full assignment is below. We will share this with them via Google Classroom or as a hard copy for those without internet access (our district has worked hard to support these kids). We will then give them feedback. But beyond the feedback, we also wanted to connect with kids on a more personal level as they share their stories from their respective desert islands.

Happy Monday, all. Hope all is well with you and yours. Take care.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Day Fifteen. As I mentioned yesterday, it’s time for a change. Up to now, we have been doing daily Smiles and Frowns via a Google Doc in Google Classroom. I start each day by sharing a new smile and frown with each of my classes, and then I respond to each kid’s smile and frown from the day before. And while participation has ebbed and flowed over the last three weeks, it has provided a consistent opportunity for connection. But I–we–are ready for something more.

Starting next week, we will begin having Smiles and Frowns via Zoom one day a week for each of my five classes: 2nd period on Monday, 3rd on Tuesday, and so on. I floated the idea to kids, and they responded with enthusiasm, sensing, as I, that it’s time to elevate our Smiles and Frowns game. Admittedly, there will be some logistical and technological challenges–that is not to be helped, but we’ll do with the plan to do better as we move forward. That’s how we do it in room 206–well, at least in spirit now. And this, this change, is just what our spirits need right now, as we continue to discover “our room” beyond the walls.

Happy Friday, all. Be safe.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Day Fourteen. Morning, all. Not feeling it. Hoping that responding to kids’ work today will lift me up a bit. Going to try to set up a Zoom version of Smiles and Frowns next week with my classes. I need more connection than the current typed version. On some level, I feel like I am just playing school right now. This whole distance thing has confirmed–for me at least–that learning is first and most a human connection, and something’s missing.

Happy Thursday, all. Stay safe.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Day Thirteen. Feeling a bit better today. Connecting with kids, even if only through words on the screen, helped. It felt good to feel needed. Had forgotten the satisfaction derived from something as simple as answering a clarifying question. Makes me want to give confusing instructions, just so they have to ask questions…

Of course, I won’t do that. But, there’s no denying the purpose and peace found in helping kids. There is peace in purpose.

Take care, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

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…

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

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.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

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.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

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.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

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.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.