Sand castles

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, 
on Tuesdays.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

This virtual teaching, it's not unlike playing in the sand. When you build a sandcastle, it's important to keep a soft and playful heart, to be ready for the onrushing water, the unexpected wave. You might be working and working and working on something, and whoosh! it is all gone in a second. You'll be more successful if you don't hold high expectations of a specific structure, but instead, work quickly and delightedly with the time you have, between the waves. 

This is week four of virtual teaching for me. I've been getting myself into emotional knots, where I am frustrated by missed calls, lack of connection, unexpected screen freezes, time spent - time lost - getting into the weeds of challenging technology. I am so frustrated by what collaboration looks like in these circumstances, trying to think together to support individual children. I miss the feel of us all being together - seeing faces, knowing moods, being aware of what was on everyone's minds...this is so fake, so hard for me.

It was March when this crisis hit. We had accomplished so much to date, and we had a strong game plan for the remainder of the school year. Our routines were clear. We knew the kids so well. We were REALLY working on specific skills for every single child. And, whoosh! It was all gone in a second. Now, every child's success is rolled up in their own individual home situation. This means, make room for the unexpected - their access to computer and other resources, the patience and time of their family, consistency of routines, their ability to go outside, and the health of their loved ones. Every child's success is connected to us as a teaching team...we are teachers, aides, specialists in speech, behavior, occupational therapy, and more...and we need to be able to move as one, in concert with each other, in order to have the best results. Look at us now! We're trying to do this in a 'virtual environment,' which makes our team work exponentially more difficult. We, too, have issues with access and adeptness with the computer and other resources, our ability to self-motivate, being consistent and timely in our interactions, all mixed in with worrying about our health and that of our loved ones.

That last paragraph illuminates my anxious thinking, how I am spiraling.

I'm making too complicated a structure, too complex a sand castle.

Today, I calmed myself by thinking of the parallels of this virtual teaching experience with playing in the sand. As a child, I loved being at the beach, building sand castles with my brothers. We worked alongside one another, each of us building madly and passionately, with an eye to the larger plan. Though we shared ideas, none of us was really 'in charge.'  We worked simply, quickly. Yes, a big wave was likely, but we created what we could, despite it. We created over and over and over again. There's my mindfulness message of the day - let go of the extras, hone in on what matters, work joyfully, and make a space for the water that is most definitely still to come.

Work quickly and delightedly with the time you have, between the waves.

Leaving the metro

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, 
on Tuesdays.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

Early morning commute. The train operator announces that the next stop is mine, so I get out of my seat and stand at the door, right next to the guy who is first in line. He's a young, fit, good-looking man. I don't stand too close; I am a big believer in giving strangers adequate physical space. Yet, the guy looks at me and jumps a little bit...it's almost imperceptible, but I can tell he is surprised by me standing behind him. Something about his body language, his cursory glance at me, screams he is uncomfortable. What the heck? He inches a little away from me, as we wait for the metro doors to open. This is really peculiar. I don't believe I am crowding him, yet it's clear he is ill at ease with me. He has nothing to fear of a harried, gray-haired lady commuting to her teaching job. I freeze, and soften my bearing, unsure what has made this moment so awkward. Finally, the metro doors open - ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE TRAIN.

I repeat:
ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE TRAIN.

Aack!

I am standing to depart from the wrong side of the train.

Ha! No wonder this guy is freaked out! He's wondering why I'm creeping up on him, on a morning commute. He's found this quiet corner near the door that won't open, and up comes this old lady, crowding him, right at his elbow.

I quickly scooted across the train car and out the door, onto the platform...and laughed out loud. This was SO funny to me. I chuckled all the way out of the station.

What a good reminder to myself to give others' grace.
We simply do not know what is on others' minds, what is going on in their lives.

How did I make such a mistake on my daily commute? I take this train most days of the week. It is so strange that I would mix up the exit door of the train.

I am reminded of advice by Atul Gawande in Being Mortal, about the need to focus on one thing at a time...I had been sitting on the train, wildly texting my colleagues about things that were planned fro the day ahead...I was in 'two places at once.' I don't have Atul Gawande's exact quote, but it was something about the need to eschew multitasking as one ages, and instead focus on one thing at a time...the brain isn't as elastic...or was his advice something to do with tripping and falling? Ah, well, the mind is foggy...at least I got a good belly laugh to start my day.