SOL21 Slice 19: how dare you

 

I am participating in the

 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL21).  

All participants are sharing stories about moments in their lives, writing 

 every day for the month of March 2021.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!

"If my preschooler was in your class right now, I would take them out of this school immediately. Why aren't you teaching a "Pro Life, Right to Life" curriculum, too? You can't tell me that Black Lives Matter isn't political. AND WRONG. You have no right to teach young children about this. It is absolutely inappropriate." This colleague met me at the door of my classroom, as I was leaving for the day. I had just presented to the staff about our school becoming involved with the Black Lives Matter Week of Action in Schools, a program that was newly started in the D.C. area in 2018, and one that I had learned about through my social justice writing circle. They stood about a foot away from me, visibly upset and frustrated, pointing at me indignantly; I just stood there and listened? blanched? stammered? I didn't respond, I couldn't respond, there was no space for a response. I couldn't find the words. Both of us, our eyes watered. This was painful.

Do you ever replay conversations in your head? Especially, the ones that are tense, never got completely resolved, got away? 

We were a diverse and progressive school, believing strongly in anti-bias, determined to meet the needs of each individual student. Throughout the school, we taught students to share their voice, advocate for themselves and others, and make positive change in the world. I had naively assumed the Black Lives Matter in Schools initiative would be welcomed by all. 

I still feel tremors in my gut when I think about the reaction I received from my colleagues that first year.  Oh my, seriously, my colleagues came at me from all directions. There was so much fear, hurt, hesitation. There was a sense that this was one more thing on already very full plates. I was told by some that I was trivializing the Black Lives Matter movement, watering it down, teaching 'kumbaya, let's get along together.' Others assured me I was adding to the polarization of the world, increasing divisiveness in the school. I regret the ask I made of my Black colleagues in particular - I had no real understanding of the difficult position I was putting them in, having to discuss these issues with White students and families. 

I hadn't thought through how politicized the movement had become. (I still argue with this though, I mean - who made it political and why? When I read through the 13 guiding principles, I see nothing with which to disagree. ) 

Thankfully, I had the support of my principal and my head of school, throughout this turmoil. The school did participate in the Week of Action, and has done so every year hence. I am proud of this, and it is hard, hard, hard. We did so despite not having all the right answers, despite not being able to always find the right words. 

Truth be told, I never singled out politics, or police incidents, or the killing of Black citizens, with my three year olds. I emphasized Black authors in the classroom, shared about Black leaders in science, engineering, music, art, and, yes, celebrated Black lives. To me, the week of celebration seemed like a no-brainer, something that I could easily weave into my curriculum. I simply wanted to lay the foundation for respecting Black lives. 

More importantly, I wanted to share these resources with the whole school, a school that was preschool-8th grade; I was (and am) convinced it was important to have these HARD conversations with our elementary and middle school students. It was essential for our Black students to see themselves reflected in our curriculum, to share their voice and have their voices heard, to feel agency. Along the way, our white students would learn what it means to be an ally, to learn more about Black history, and, yes, to begin to grapple with the concept of white supremacy. Our older students might begin to understand about the systemic roots of racism, to consider other perspectives, and to dare to be voices of positive change.

I believe: these are ESSENTIAL conversations for the health of our democracy. 

Sadly, this week, more hate, more violence, more pain. 

A hate-filled murderous rampage, this time against Asian women. 

One angry white man murders eight people.  

Look at how widespread this hate and this pain. 

This idea of hating someone simply because of their skin, their gender, their culture, what they were born into - it is inexplicably wrong.

Yes, today I have been reflecting on fear. 

fear.

blinds us.

stops us.

locks us up.

I want to say to my colleague quoted at the outset of this post: I think anti-bias is pro-life.

I am thinking about how hard anti-bias teaching is, and how necessary. How much work we have to do. We must, each and every one of us, grab onto a piece of the issue and hold on, do it, just go, go, go, spread love not hate, open eyes, provide perspective, do right by all of us.

What part of anti-bias teaching feels right to you? How might you do just a little bit more? Where do you think you should begin? What might give you courage? 

Do it, do it, do it. 

"No matter how big a nation is, it is no stronger than its weakest people, 

and as long as you keep a person down, 

some part of you has to be down there to hold him down, 

so it means you cannot soar as you might otherwise."

- Marian Anderson

SOL21 Slice 17: Mystery of the mind

 

I am participating in the

 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL21).  

All participants are sharing stories about moments in their lives, writing 

 every day for the month of March 2021.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!

Perhaps the most elaborate part of my school's preparation for students returning to in-person learning is their new, sleek wall system of horizontal elevators. It is masterful! These connect every classroom in the school and move students just one at a time, in an efficient, clean, sterile, COVID-free way. Every staff member has been given access to the iGOTTAgo app. Here's a quick description of how it works: the teacher selects the location that they need for the student to be taken to next (for example, bathroom, art class, principal's office, even to the entrance of the school for parent pickup; all destinations are pre-programmed, to meet the unique needs of each individual classroom). With the press of a button, the sliding doors along the back wall of the classroom open almost instantaneously. The student climbs into the horizontal elevator, and they are whisked to where they need to be next. While onboard, there is special hand sanitizer and a new clean mask, ensuring COVID-free safety at their destination, as well. iGOTTAgo eliminates the need for additional staff members to help with transitions of students, and ensures that teacher and students remain at safe distance throughout the school day. 

Seeing this system with my own eyes has triggered all sorts of anxious questions and concerns. I don't like that the individual elevator 'buckets' don't have any doors or enclosures, the students are each expected to sit down and still throughout the move. How will this work with preschoolers? Goodness, how will this work with a wily seventh grader? iGOTTAgo has assured my school that the sheer speed of transport fixes every student in their place, not one student got out of their seat during the program's testing of the horizontal elevators. I'm sorry, but I'm not convinced. Have they ever met [insert name of follows-different-drumbeat-child]? I'm imagining children being squished between the wall and the elevator bucket, I'm imagining the severing of limbs. You can't possibly add these concerns to a teacher's worries!

This is when I woke up.

I dream about being in the classroom all the time. I had anxiety dreams when I was teaching, and they continue now into this first year of retirement. Last night, there I was setting up a preschool classroom for in-person learning. It was time for the children to return to school, the pandemic was subsiding, we were allowing half the children to return for two days each week. I'm sure I gleaned this plan from all the news articles I read about this process, not to mention all the SOLSC blogs other teachers have written about this very transition. 

What a time of stress, for everyone.

Unlike many of my dreams, in this one I was aware I was retired, I knew I wasn't the teacher. I was there to help my former colleagues. I wonder if on some subliminal level, I want to be needed like this? (I am reminded of Glenda Funk's post yesterday, about how when you ask a retired teacher for help, you are almost performing a service!)

What fascinates me about these school dreams, I am ALWAYS with a challenging student. Yes, when I was teaching this was true, and now in retirement, it continues. It is as if my mind is still trying to solve the puzzle: how to help them? what is the best approach? what are their triggers? what have I noticed to date? what is working well and I can do more of? 

Throughout it all is this enormous weight of RESPONSIBILITY.

One child, one teacher, one book, and one pen can change the world.

- Malala Yousafzei

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.

SOL20 Slice #11: Too many people

I am participating in the

 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL20).  

All participants are sharing stories about moments in their lives, writing 

 every day for the month of March 2020.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

The preschool classroom is a collaborative classroom, with a team of teachers working together. This year, I'm part of a four-person team, working with 21 three-year olds. Unfortunately, it has also been a turbulent year with sickness, family emergencies, and other unforeseen circumstances requiring lots of different substitutes and temporary assignments of staff, to work with my students. Our substitutes come from a contracted pool, and we rarely if ever see the same one twice. It's funny to me that the children always welcome the new adult as a rock star - as if they are thinking: YAY! Someone new to KNOW!! I, however, find the near-constant changes in staffing to be one of my biggest challenges. My head is filled with constant tension and calculation for every task...is it easier to just do more work, to do the things myself? Or should I take the time to show the new person how to do it? Plus, there's no denying that the whole classroom has a different feel, when I am working with someone new; I find myself hungering for normalcy, the tried and true.

It seems so simple, to help out in a preschool classroom. I think: do what needs doing. Seek out groups of children. Support, listen, converse, re-direct, extend. However, I'm wrong about this simplicity - it is not instinctive to join in the play with young children.

My team reflected on the many different personalities we have met, chuckling with memories:

• The gruff one, who spoke sternly to the children about obedience.
• The one who would have made a great museum docent, walking about the classroom slowly with their hands folded behind their back.
• The one who appeared dressed for a corporate job, and tried to avoid preschoolers with paint and glue and yuck.
• The energetic one, who I had to redirect even more than the children, as they regaled children with stories about them-self, and even got their phone out to show them a favorite video game. 
• The one with no affect, saying nothing, who sat down immediately in the quietest part of the room, apart from preschoolers, and had to be reminded, all day long, to assist with the children.
• The one who overshared about their personal life - to the preschoolers!
• The one who found the quietest, calmest child and stayed glued to her, unavailable for anyone/anything else.
• The one who asked question after question, talking over the children, even interrupting my read-aloud.
• The one who reeked of smoke...should they really work with young children?
• The one who seemed annoyed when any task was suggested.

Every now and again, we have had a real gem of a substitute: friendly, focused, kind, hard-working, able to instigate great conversations with children, willing to wipe up spills, sweep floors, and do basically anything that needs doing.

These gems are all too rare.

SOL20 Slice #8 On the prowl

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL20).  
All participants are sharing stories about moments in their lives, writing 
 every day for the month of March 2020.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

One of my goals for this blog, "Writing Beside Me," is to write about those things that keep cropping up in my head...those peripherals that hold on for awhile, for some unknown reason. They don't typically have to do directly with my teaching. The March challenge revs up this writing goal, because I'm not as able to let something 'stew,' or to bask in side-line thinking. I'm on the lookout for different topics - looking closely, listening, wondering...'on the prowl,' as it were.

These past few days, I've been out of town for an early childhood conference, where my colleague Hannah and I presented a workshop on "The Needs of Young Learners," focusing on five social-emotional needs that our school refers to as the ABCDEs: Autonomy, Belonging, Competence, Developmentally-appropriateness, and Engagement. Rather than share my whole talk, I want to share my 'residuals,' what I keep thinking about....

For one part of our workshop, we had teachers share about their own negative experiences in school, and whether one or more of these five needs had gone unmet. We didn't wallow in the negative for too long; most of our workshop was very uplifting and positive. However, it's these sour thoughts that I keep thinking about.

These teachers shared:

• feeling embarrassed,
• being singled out for not doing the expected work,
• being stifled creatively,
• feeling bored,
• teacher speaking aggressively,
• given no second chance, no do-over,
• being scolded.
• being shamed for not understanding,
• being made to sit apart,
• not held to high expectations,
• told she wasn't a good girl,
• being isolated,
• having no relationship with the teacher,
• threatened that parents would be contacted,
• feeling afraid,
• feeling afraid to try anything new,
• lots of tedious work,
• feeling judged, looked down on,
• feeling stupid.

I hope that none of my students experience any of the feelings these teachers shared, and, yet, I know I'm human and not every day is perfect. What sticks for my students? What do they carry home at the end of the day? I believe I am a very reflective person, and that I try to revisit the 'ugly' moments with students, to repair and restore, to come to a common understanding. Well, I do my best.

I am blessed with colleagues who will support me in this thinking. I'm surrounded by teachers who want to create a positive learning environment for students. I am grateful for my teaching community.

I listened intently to what the teachers shared, and I was overcome with a sense of our resilience. Teachers rock!! Seriously. I mean, we chose this profession, despite the ugly. To hear educators be so forthcoming about something negative in their own schooling, it's clear that the negative really sticks. Everyone is able to recall a moment or more that really hurt. I wonder if these moments were catalysts to becoming teachers? We teachers want to do better, want to teach better, than what we experienced.

Determined to write

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!

Whenever possible, I squeeze in a visit to see my Dad, who is 90 years old, and lives in a nursing home in Maine. I stay with my brother and sister-in-law, both retired, and I am filled with envy of their life together. Their home is tranquil, clean, beautiful, and simple, with lovely views of backyard woods. We sit and chat and relax. Last time I was there, gorgeous sunshine radiated through the windows and skylight, across my face and lap, as I curled up on their comfy sofa. I thought - give me DAYS like this, on my own, in a quiet, calm, cozy home, and I will write and write and write.

My daily reality is so different. Oh, my. This school year. Truly, I have never had such a tough start to a year...and here, a third of the way through the year, I have found a balance, but it is a fragile, walking-on-eggshell balance, where the slightest change in routine or plan or expectations, and, whoa, everything goes nutty again. There are too many children with many big needs, and a cast of adults that constantly changes. I no longer anticipate anything approximating calm, which makes those rare, surprise moments of quiet such a gift. I come home fatigued, worn, frazzled, with so many strands of thoughts - he said that, she did that, I need to do that, they want that, I have to remember that, we had that, what about that, why not that?! Voices of need ring in my ear...there is simply no end to the needs. I forget to take care of myself, eating the wrong things, moving too little, not taking time for me. I squeeze in writing that is superficial and tiny and brief...I do not have time or opportunity to write out the stories in my head.

I wonder...when the day finally comes that I have the time...when I have DAYS on my own, in a quiet, calm, cozy home...will I have any stories to write? Will I be able to grab the threads that I let go, during so many unending days? Will these still be stories I want to tell?

Scene change

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 past summer was slow and emotional, with much loss and love. We had the challenging work of emptying out my parents' things for the very last time and moving treasures by U-haul. We had the painful, hard, deeply loving work of being present for the death of my brother-in-law, from lung disease. We had tender, dear moments with my 90 year old father, in his nursing home, who has trouble communicating with us, yet clearly feels embraced by our presence. In and around the 'hard,' we had sweet time with our granddaughter ('Frog'), now 10 months old, and sprinkles of time lost in good conversations with friends and family, or immersed in reading novels, or writing and journaling, or digging in the garden dirt.

It was a summer,
rich and varied and slow.

Now, scene change: intense time and thought and action, all about school. Two weeks of professional development, new staff, revised procedures, discipline statistics, equity goals, planning lessons, duty schedules, special education details, classroom purchases, collaboration, classroom setup, long days, and, just this week, first days of school, welcoming new preschoolers and families. I am very much on auto-pilot, having done this for so many years now. I am excited and delighted by my new kiddos and families. I look forward to this year of teaching. This year, however, begins like a hastily-wiped whiteboard - with that residue bleeding through of what was before. I am still processing my summer, in the midst of the new.

SOL 19 Slice #11 Respecting teachers

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Back when I first became a preschool teacher, I went to an education conference in Ocean City, Maryland with my teaching colleagues. We had a variety of workshops to choose from and I was excited to attend. I was fresh out of my early childhood certification course and very excited about my career change. (I had formerly worked at a consulting firm as a technical writer and trainer, a world of high heels and beautiful suits, and the ability to take a break during the day whenever I needed to do so - yes, a very different world from teaching.)

As I entered the very first workshop that day in Ocean City, Maryland, I passed an unsmiling woman standing right by the exit door; I remember thinking, "hmmm, that's odd - she looks a bit like a bouncer. Why would there need to be a bouncer here?" I settled into my seat, next to my colleagues, making chit-chat. Others entered, settled into their seats.

Just as it was time to start the workshop, that unsmiling person in the back of the room announced - "The doors will now be locked. There is no exiting in the middle of this workshop. You are earning 2 hours of training and we need to be sure that you are in attendance."

Oh. My. Goodness.

She locked the doors!!

For real.

I was locked into my first-ever teacher training.

I was aghast. I really could not believe the way I was being treated. I remember my "seasoned" colleagues giggling over my affront; they were numb to this treatment. Fresh out of a "professional" setting, I saw the condescension. Talk about a lack of trust! What a paradigm shift from the world of technical writing and consulting. I was being treated in a demeaning, controlled way.

Fast forward 20 years, I am still teaching early childhood. I am a master teacher, working alongside a beginning teacher, showing her the ropes. I love young children.

Although I haven't had as stark an experience as I had at this first early childhood conference, I continue to be horrified by the way that we treat teachers.

Teachers are frequently not treated as professionals.

One example I have is an annual observation done by the Office of Superintendent of Education for Pre K classrooms throughout the district. These are four hours long, with my every move being observed - listening to my words, noting the words and movements of all adults in the classroom, taking notes of which students were doing what...I am under a microscope. I am a seasoned teacher, an experienced teacher, and I am absolutely wiped out by this observation each year. How to describe the exhaustion I felt from the scrutiny? I do not feel as if I should take a bathroom break. I feel pressure to have fake conversations with children. I feel enormous responsibility for all others in my room - what were they saying? doing?

Imagine - the observer is a stranger and enters without a smile and no small talk. Children try to chat her up and she avoids. It is a small poison really, to a teaching team, to a preschool classroom - to loom as she does in the midst of the classroom for the entire morning. She arrives while I am setting up my classroom in the early morning and stays until lunch is served - four hours into the day.

My school will get a report and a score in a few months.

Here's my wonder -
Of what value is this?  

How does it improve my teaching? 

How does it inform me?

How is it helpful to not hear any feedback for several months? 

I have no issues with being observed. It is magical to have coaches come in, or peers, or even supervisors, and give you real-time feedback and insight. Videotaping is also great.

Why does this annual observation by the State Superintendent feel different to me? The teacher is not in conversation with the observer, this is obviously not a collaboration, there is no feedback that helps me grow professionally. I feel like a pawn, not in control.

Yes, it is a 'put down,' a locking of teachers into a room.

I am not a professional. I am a widget. 

SOL 19 Slice #10 Stay or go?

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Every year at this time of year, I have to sign an 'intent to return' form for my school - do I plan to return to teaching? Last week, this little piece of paper was back in my hands, bringing into real conversation the subject that has been stewing in the back of my mind...

Am I ready to retire from teaching preschool?

How does one decide when is the right time to retire?

I am fast approaching the age where this is what one does. Retire, that is. I am surrounded by people who are doing so. 

My husband is nearly eight years older than me, and he has been retired for three years. Because of his retirement, my own work week is so much easier - he takes care of the household now. I come home to dinner already cooked and laundry washed and folded; he often drives me to the metro in the morning and picks me up in the afternoon. We joke that I have a "boy toy." It is, truly, pretty awesome. He is so relaxed in retirement, unlike his many years in government and private industry. I think we have a pretty good balance these days.

(The sweetest part of his being retired while I am a teacher is summer - being able to be with each other around the clock, for weeks on end. This is delightful! We make great use of every long weekend, every school break. We have traveled, hiked, and played.)

He would love me to be retired.

He fears being "old and in frail health" when I do decide to retire...that said, the man is the picture of great health! I don't believe he's going to fall apart.

Yet, I realize I am taking a bit of a risk. Will I look back with regret that I taught so long, rather than spending more time with him?

A couple of my very close friends are retiring this year - both feel as if they have been run into the ground by their work, and their health demands that they stop now. 

This is not my truth. Yet, I feel some sort of vague pressure from it.

I love what I do, I love teaching preschoolers! I love how they make me laugh, how they make me move, and how they make me think. I love my colleagues - planning, collaborating, and bantering together. I love the variety of my day, and the different skill sets I use. It is never dull. I feel alive and purposeful.

I am terrified of retirement. 

It feels like a big empty hole, a step into total unknown.

Will it feel less so when I am ready?

Is this just a sign that I am not ready?

I signed the form - Yes, I will come back. Let's talk about making some modifications to my current job, so that I might have a little more flexibility.

Ugh.

Why can't teaching be a three or four day a week job?
Why does it have to be so all or nothing?

I am not yet ready to retire.