December 2020 – Steph Simply

Starting Over

December 31, 2020December 31, 2020 by stephsimply, posted in Herald-Dispatch Articles, Simple Observations and Musings

“A sunrise is God’s way of saying, ‘Let’s start again.”–Todd Stocker

Before typing this, I spent nearly 2 ½ hours trying to decide the best way to begin writing. I looked at photo ideas, quotes, inspirational readings, ideas I have saved on a document, and so forth . . . all the usual starting points for me. I would start typing, then moments later, delete all the words. Type, delete, repeat. My mind was filled with a revolving door of thoughts as I reflected upon the new year and all the possibilities it held. No matter the number of do-overs, this repeatedly blank document likewise remained an opportunity for a new start–full of the hope and promise that exploring an idea through writing offers, and the enhanced understanding that comes with it.

As we close the saga that was 2020, I can say with confidence that it was certainly a year like no other. While it began, full of hope and promise, it quickly spiraled out of control globally, nationally, professionally, and personally. Often, when it seemed the year could not get any worse, 2020 somehow managed to throw more curve balls than a record breaking MLB pitcher. In fact, it seems to me that 2020 pitched a no-hitter of a game.

Photo by Erica Busick Batten on Pexels.com

As a lifelong learner, one of the reasons I write is to increase my own understanding. The process of writing slows down my thoughts, and reduces my emotions which can cloud my thinking. Writing also coaxes my analytical brain to engage more with the world rather than my intuitive/sensitivity center that, from decades of training, extends from me like antenna–seeking, searching, and constantly evaluating the temperament of a room, situation, and people. While this so-called sensitivity is a pretty handy awareness to have, especially as an educator, it can unfortunately become overwhelmed by the feelings, energy, and attitudes of others, short-circuiting my emotional center and nearly shutting down my brain, filling me with overwhelming negative feelings and stories.

Writing is not the only way in which I tap into my logical brain. As an educator, I must also remain centered in logic, task-analysis, and effective communication. While I use my sensitivity skills to help navigate the world of middle school students, parents, and coworkers, I have trained myself to not react nor take situations personally. I am not implying that I am perfect, rather that my professional and creative self have more in common with one another than private me.

When left alone with my own thoughts, I am often given over to emotional waves. This was especially true during 2020. Far too often this past year, I slipped into the stories and/or negativities that seemed to be surrounding me on all sides. Therefore, one of my hopes for 2021 is a greater sense of equanimity, no matter my circumstance or setting, and I can’t help but think I am not the only one feeling this way.

I am reminded of a former yoga instructor who once warned students of the danger of attaching to and/or becoming our negative thoughts. He gave the illustration that if we nourished our body with good food in order to maintain a healthy body, why shouldn’t we feed our brain positive thoughts and ideas. Therefore, when this recollection randomly entered my mind, as I sat at my kitchen table trying to tease out the precise writing idea floating just outside the periphery of my thinking, I began to look around my kitchen.

Due to the holidays, my kitchen was filled with foods that we normally do not keep on hand. In fact, there was so much excess, as I glanced around, that food was visible on the top of my fridge and counter–something that is normally a no-no for me. Those foods were as lovely to the eye as on the tongue, but they lacked any real nutritional value. These were foods, my body reminded me throughout the holiday season, that did not keep me feeling full for very long, and they created cravings I typically don’t experience. Additionally, I found that these same foods also tended to generate a sense of fatigue and/or lethargy; and yet, my brain kept telling me to consume more of those delectable special sweets, salty-snacks, and other rich treats. Each time I overindulged, which I did on several occasions, my mind would spin into negative thoughts about myself, my food choices, and lack of willpower–which was so silly since all of the foods were truly special occasion foods only made and eaten in this quantity one time per year.

In fact, by January, most, if not all, of the treats will be out of the house, and we will return to a more healthy, sustainable way of eating, but it supports my point. 2020 was like the sweets and junk food in my house for the holidays, it continually served up an abundance of low-quality fodder wrapped in bright screens, attention-seeking sound-bites, and eye catching headlines promising “breaking news” that was mostly devoid of any positive and fulfilling sustenance. One sad, frustrating, or anger-inducing event after another kept emotions running high while nutrient-rich content was as hard to find as fresh produce at a local convenient mart.

If 2020 has taught me anything, it is that change is inevitable and ongoing, but no matter the change, I have a choice with what I nourish my mind and how I choose to react to change. While I am unable to rid the world of “junk,” as I can in the kitchen of my own home, I can fuel my mind at the start of each day, as I do for my writing, by spending a bit of time in quiet reflection and devotion, with an open heart and mind, and a prayer that Divine Providence will fortify me throughout the day with those positive morning messages, providing with a greater sense of equanimity in all situations.

“Happiness is not the absence of problems; it’s the ability to deal with them.”–Steve Maraboli

2021 is like this once blank document, an opportunity for each of us to start again. Of course, the new year starts with much of the baggage of this past year, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have the ability to deal with it and learn to better understand it. Just as a new black document each week offers me a choice as to what I idea or thought I choose to focus my attention, each of us likewise has a choice of where we focus our attention and how we react to each problem or challenge that may occur. Equanimity of mind seems to me like happiness–everyone wants it, but we wouldn’t know either one without the opposite extreme.

May the blank page of 2021 serve as a reminder that life is about progress, not perfection. Let us remember that nature does not create a storm without an end. We may not always feel happy, or remain in a state of equanimity, but we can choose what we nourish our thoughts with. May we say goodbye to poisoning our minds with discord, disharmony, and dissension–even if the storms of 2020 continue into the new year. Instead, may we focus on what we can control: our thoughts, our prayers, and our actions/reactions. 2020 is done, and 2021 has just begun. It’s an opportunity for a new start– even if only on the personal level.

“And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.’ Also he said, ‘Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.’”–Revelation 21:5

Fearlessly Moving Forward into 2021 with Hope

December 24, 2020December 22, 2020 by stephsimply, posted in Herald-Dispatch Articles, Simple Observations and Musings

“It is because of hope that you suffer. It is through hope that you’ll change things.”– Maxime Lagacé

“Mrs. Hill, I hope you have a good Christmas,” the child stated in a formal voice unique to this person. “And, I hope that 2021 is better than 2020 because 2020 was really, really bad.”

I could not have summed up the sentiment any better, and yet those words clung to me like a sweaty t-shirt in the summer, clinging and bunching in ways that make me want to be shed of its weight. As I pondered those words throughout the weekend, I realized that they weighed on me beyond the obvious. Later, it occurred to me that reflected in those words were two seemingly opposing concepts: hope and control.

As a Reading/Language Arts teacher and writer, I rely on precise word meaning. I teach students to not only use the Merriam-Webster online dictionary and thesaurus as a tool to begin to understand word meaning, but to also look at the parts of speech a word may possess because how a word is used is just as important as its definition. Therefore, when I looked up the definition of hope, I immediately noticed that hope, according to Merriam-Webster, is most often used as a verb–an action. However, its second most popular definition identifies hope as a noun–an idea. Likewise, the same can be said for the functioning of the word control–verb first, noun second.

“The more you try to control something, the more it controls you. Free yourself, and let things take their own natural course.”–Leon Brown

Part of our collective suffering during 2020 is our desire for control. We have wished, as the definition of control states, to “directly influence,” or “have power over,” numerous events of this past calendar year. Whether we were desiring to influence others’ behavior, or wishing to exert power over the virus, vaccine, and/or authorities, in order for, “things to get back to normal,” most of us have looked, and maybe even continue to look, for ways to gain control and, “get our lives back.” The thing is though, that very act of living means that we do have our lives, and we can only exert control over our own life behaviors, thoughts, actions, and reactions. However, we can hope for a different way of interacting and living; and, that is the rub. How do we hope, while attempting to not try to control others, situations, and outcomes?

Most of us, including myself, want to control things that frighten us.

I want my friend to stop smoking because I’m afraid she’s going to die of lung cancer, and I don’t want to lose her.

I want my parent(s) to be well because I am afraid of life without them in it.

I want my job to pay well because I am afraid I won’t be able to pay the bills and live the way I want to live.

I want my child to be successful because I am afraid they won’t be able to care of themselves.

On and on the examples could go, but the bottom line is our desire to control stems from our worry, but I would argue that, also from our hope. Looking at the above examples, let me rephrase them.

I hope my friend is always around because I value her friendship and companionship.

I hope my parent(s) live(s) as long as I do because I love them so very much.

I hope my job’s salary continues to increase with the cost of living because I value living a certain way.

I hope my child is gainfully employed because I will not be their safety net forever.

Merriam-Webster’s definition of hope includes, “to cherish a desire with anticipation.”

To. Cherish. A. Desire.

As a society, we had no idea how very much we cherished our so-called “normal” way of living–the freedom to gather where, when, and how we wanted without the confines of masks, distance, and limited numbers. We desired and relished in the freedom of dining out surrounded by the hubbub and energy that comes with a restaurant enlivened and energized with sounds of overlapping conversations and laughter. Arenas, stadiums, or theaters filled with fans of a particular sport, performer, or other forms of entertainment were also treasured and long-established society traditions. Gathering in groups with loved and/or friends in one another’s homes, churches, or social halls–the list could go on–was another cherished activity. Nonetheless, we cannot control the outcomes of when/if any or all of these items will return. Certainly, we can hope, as a child hopes for a prized present at Christmas, but we cannot control what/when (it) will happen.

What can we do? We can start by taking cues from nature. Nature naturally cycles through seasons; and, by the time this piece of writing is published, the winter solstice will have occurred at 5:02 am ET on December 21–the shortest day of the year. With the coming of winter, the increased darkness and colder temperatures allow plants to go dormant in order to rest and gather strength for the upcoming growing season. Additionally, the frost, and other cold weather events, act as a force to help plants grow stronger and produce more roots, leaves, branches, fruits, and flowers. Insect populations are reduced. The nights are the longest and darkest of the year allowing the stars to seemingly shine at their brightest. And, that, Dear Friend, was my lesson to learn.

Like the stars in the winter sky, hope is twinkling in the darkened, but distant future. Starlight may take light years to reach our eyes on Earth, but it does span the distance. We cannot control the brightness of the stars any more than we control “the little virus that could” in 2020, but we can rest in the knowledge that we can control our reactions, our thoughts, our choices; and, we can let “it” go–let go our desires to influence or have power over things for which we cannot control. Instead, let us, as the dictionary offers as a secondary definition for hope, “expect with confidence” that we can fearlessly move forward through our current darkness, and brightly focus on what we can do to make each day better for ourselves and others.

Psychologists know that simply envisioning, aka hoping for, a better future, can make even the darkest of situations feel more bearable. In fact, hope serves as a link from our past to our present day situation. Envisioning returning to our former life habits can make the current negative changes and consequences of life during a pandemic more bearable.

With the coming of the winter solstice, each day grows one minute longer in the amount of light provided. Likewise, our future is growing brighter, bit by little bit. Soon enough, we will emerge into the spring of a new era. We will forge ahead, creating a more positive future . . . .

Let us infinitely hope.

“We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.”— Martin Luther King Jr

Beer Bread: A Christmas Tradition

December 17, 2020December 16, 2020 by stephsimply, posted in Herald-Dispatch Articles, Recipes

“The smell of good bread baking, like the sound of lightly flowing water, is indescribable in its evocation of innocence and delight.” —M.F.K. Fisher

“Good bread is the most fundamentally satisfying of all foods; and good bread with fresh butter, the greatest of feasts.”–James Beard

It is a family tradition spanning over three to four decades. I am not sure if I started baking it in my 20s or 30s, but baking beer bread for Christmas, and other special events, has been, and continues to be, a long-held Hill household custom. From where the recipe came, I am not certain; however, I suspect I found it in the owner’s manual/recipe guide of the very first bread machine I ever owned.

Not long after John, my husband of over thirty years, and I were married, my grandparents gave us a bread machine as a Christmas gift. It was an Oster, white in color, and it was highly popular in the late 80s. In fact, even up until last Christmas (2019), I was still using this same Oster to help me bake bread.

The original recipe card onto which I wrote the recipe is stained, tattered, and torn from decades of use.

This former bread making machine, for which I used to knead and rise bread dough–the loaves were baked in the oven rather than the machine–faithfully helped me bake beer bread every single Christmas after its original receipt. When my daughter was still school age, I baked loaves for her teachers at Christmas. Even now, I will still bake extra loaves at Christmas to give away.

Christmas after Christmas, I go through pounds of flour, yeast, and of course, copious bottles of beer. Typically, during the two weeks leading up to Christmas, the aroma of freshly baked bread seems to emanate from every pore of our house. A week or two leading up to Christmas, my kitchen is typically covered with a fine dusting of flour, and a measuring glass filled beer often sits at the back of the counter in order to come to room temperature before mixing the dough.

Dough finished rising in the bread machine.

Unfortunately, by last Christmas, this antique machine was bouncing across the counter, vibrating the entire length, in an exerted effort to mix and knead the dough. After each batch, I would find feathery grains of black metal beneath the machine as if it were sacrificing its own blood in order to continue to help me produce bread. I knew I “kneaded” to gently close its lid and carry it to its final resting place, but saying goodbye is never easy–especially to one that has faithfully served our family, Christmas after Christmas, and one special event after another. To add further grief, it was a gift from my grandparents–setting this machine on its final rest cycle would feel as if I was breaking an unspoken contract with them. (Although we still have the white Toastmaster toaster they gave us as a wedding present in 1989.)

Dough dropped into prepared loaf pan and ready for the oven.

However, by New Years Day of 2020, another day in which I typically make beer bread, it was clear, the little Oster could go on no more. It was like an appliance doctor had steathfully snuck into the house and gently sent my loyal kitchen companion to its eternal reward. I am certain, if there is an appliance heaven, that good ol’ Oster is walking the streets of homemade bread alongside other trusted tools of the trade.

While I now have a new bread machine, the kitchen doesn’t quite look or sound the same when it is operating. It appears to be the strong, silent type that likes to work without drawing attention to itself. Black in color, oblong in shape, it is the complete opposite of its predecessor. While the former appliance, if set to bake dough, formed bread in the shape of a chubby stove pipe chimney; however, the newer machine, were I to actually use the baking function, will bake bread that is fashioned in the traditional shape and length, but is still rather tall. Nonetheless, it does perform the necessary functions of mixing, kneading, and rising the dough–ready to dump into a prepared bread pan and bake in the oven.

The owner’s manual for the sleak, new bread machine.

The recipe that I share can be varied slightly, but certain ingredients must go into the mix in order to bake and taste properly. To begin, I have used a wide variety of natural sweeteners including sugar (as originally called for), molasses, honey, agave, as well as real maple and date syrups. If choosing a liquid sweetener, it will influence the color of the crust as well as the dough. Additionally, I have played with a variety of types of flour, including whole wheat, and I have even added ½ cup of wheat germ, but I have found that using bread flour works best. Furthermore, I prefer to use jar yeast that is specifically designed for bread machines.

Regarding the beer, I have used both high end beer and bargain beer over the years. It really doesn’t matter. However, what I do find is that the darker the beer, the richer the flavor–but only for the most discerning of taste buds. Most won’t notice the difference between light or dark beer. Also, if you don’t typically drink beer, you can buy single cans of beer.

Another tip I have learned over the years is to cool and store the loaf in an airtight plastic bag or container before slicing it. The reason I make this suggestion is because if you slice it while it is still warm, the bread is not firm enough and tends to collapse in on itself. Additionally, crumbs from the crust go everywhere. However, if you allow it to properly cool, and then store it for several hours in an airtight container, it will slice nicely for those social media worthy pictures.

Beautiful, freshly baked bread just out of the oven.

As a final tip, it should be noted that you may need to adjust the amounts of each ingredient and/or order in which the ingredients go into your machine, depending upon your machine’s requirements. This is where the owner’s manual of your own machine comes in handy–to help you tweak and adjust amounts as needed. (I know my new machine’s manual has several pages of tips for successful baking and recipe adjustments.)

Furthermore, it should also be noted that I have only used this recipe in a bread machine. I put the ingredients in the machine in the order recommended by the manufacturer and allow the machine to take care of the mixing, kneading, and rising. Once through the rising process, I place dough in a prepared loaf pan and bake. Sadly, this recipe is NOT gluten-free; and therefore, I now choose to not consume it–even at Christmas. It was a recipe I discovered years before I knew I had celiac disease. Therefore, I bake only for the consumption of loved ones and friends to enjoy.

For those of you with bread machines sitting around waiting to be used, I hope you will enjoy this recipe. It fills the house with an irresistible, aromatic scent, and tastes wonderful toasted, at room temperature, or slightly warmed. Use it for breakfast, sandwiches, snacks, or even toast it for homemade croutons. I hope that this recipe will bring your family as much joy as it has mine over the years.

From my home to yours, I wish you happy, homemade, and heavenly baked goods for the holidays!

Slice it, butter it, slather it with your favorite topping, and enjoy every yeasty bite!

Beer Bread

Ingredients:

⅓ warm water

1 cup beer (room temperature & flat)

2 tablespoons oil

1 teaspoon lemon juice

1 ½ teaspoon salt

3 tablespoons sugar (or other natural sweetener)

3 cups bread flour

1 yeast package or 2 ¼ teaspoons yeast

Directions:

Place all ingredients in the bread machine according to manufacturer directions, making any adjustments needed to amounts as per manufacturer directions.

Set machine for dough setting if baking in oven; otherwise, set for white bread setting.

Once dough is nearly finished with its cycle, preheat oven to 375 degrees if baking in the oven.

If baking in the oven, remove dough from the pan once dough has gone through the entire dough setting cycle, and place dough in lightly greased loaf pan.

Bake for 30-35 minutes or until golden brown on top.

Store in an airtight container or sealed storage bag.

Stays fresh, when properly stored in an airtight container at room temperature, for over a week.

Bake up a new holiday tradition: beer bread! — Oh, there’s nothing like the aroma of freshly baked bread.

Storyin’

December 10, 2020 by stephsimply, posted in Herald-Dispatch Articles, Simple Observations and Musings

“Life is not a matter of creating a special name for ourselves, but of uncovering the name we have always had.”–Richard Rohr

Some of my favorite events as a child were those extended family events spent around a dinner table. Depending upon the size of the gathering, we kids might have been interspersed among the grown-ups, or seated at our own table, but regardless of assigned seat, we often listened in on the adults’ conversations. These beloved grown-ups were commanding narrators, needling out one anecdote after another. The combining effect of each account felt as if a patchwork quilt of life were being stitched together before our childhood eyes. Great guffaws of laughter flowed over and around us as each chronicler appeared to compete for the best speil. As a child, I yearned for that ability . . .

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

Perhaps it was the change of weather, the mostly cloudy days, filled with damp and chilly temperatures. Of course, it could also have been the rising daily count of COVID cases. Then again, it could have been the shifting job roles–depending upon those same numbers. Maybe it was the overwhelming loss of lives in 2020; the unemployment rate affecting many loved ones, friends, and acquaintances; the uncertain national, global, and political landscape; or maybe it is the fact that trying to find soft toilet paper and a safe cleaning products for home is still a never ending battle! Whatever the cause, this past week, I personally found that sleep was often elusive, and by Thursday and Friday, I was often given to weepiness and felt down right melancholy as my mind slid into “story mode.”

Depending upon the situation, the “Story of Steph,” if given permission to run out of control, can be quite tragic, valiant, humble, or any variation in between. This week it was a well-rehearsed, negative narrative that began to echo around in my head. By the week’s end, the volumes of these fables were fully crescendoed.

The week began with an appetizer of “you’re-not-good-enough,” followed up by a tossed salad of “you never-have-been” and “you never-will-be.” Next came the main-course of “you’re-a-failure,” along with sides of “you’re-never-right, not-smart, not-good, and not-worthy.” The mental construct of poor-pitiful-me was tantruming into a full frenzy.

I suppose as an adult, I should not admit to such mental theatrics. In fact, I suppose there is risk in sharing these stories. However, I choose to share, partly in the hope that it will foster my own compassion and understanding of the truth, and partly with the hope that my experience may help others who may also undergo similar stories of the mind.

Naturally, there are other stories that we all, myself included, prefer to show the world. Stories regarding our role in our family; our careers; our perceived social, political, and economic status; our relationships, friends, and associations/affiliations; the list could go on. The point is, the story-of-self is driven by the ego and our desire to survive, and perhaps fit-in (or not fit-in); and, 2020 has certainly made all of us feel threatened, insecure, and uncertain. Therefore, it is even more critical that we understand that our mental constructs are not necessarily reflective of reality and often not the truth. This is an especially important tool as we segue from one challenging year to another.

“Don’t laugh at a youth for his affectations; he is only trying on one face after another to find his own.” -Logan Pearsall Smith

Our self-prescribed stories change as we grow and develop depending upon influences, experiences, life-events, family status, career position and so forth. The role of these stories are not necessarily bad. Roles and expectations of one’s personal role develop even as a baby/toddler. If I behave this way, then a certain positive or negative thing happens, and we feel (or don’t feel) safe, secure, valued, and loved. As we grow, and hormones kick in, we begin to try out new roles, new ways of be-ing, from the way we behave, to the ways in which we choose to appear to others, as peers begin to gain influence in our desire to feel secure, safe, and valued. With each stage, new roles are tried on, and later tossed aside, in an attempt to find the role that brings us the greatest feelings of value, security and/or worth. As a whole, this is a natural part of human development.

Unfortunately, as humans, we tend to attach too much to roles and to the should-das, would-das, and could-das of life roles and fulfillment. The stories we tell ourselves often skew and mask reality. Social media adds to the distortion of who we should be, and often sends us to our proverbial closet of stories in an attempt to find the perceived right role, and soon another story is formed in an attempt to gain more self-perceived value. The more we judge and compare our stories to that of others, the more we create discomfort by reinforcing and habituating judgement and critical patterns of thinking of what we should be do-ing and how we should be be-ing. The compounding effect of all these stories is that we lose touch with what Fr. Richard Rohr refers to as “the face we had before we were born.”

“I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another.” – William Shakespeare

The concept of, “the face we had before we were born,” is not original to Friar Rohr, but it was his words that reminded me of this notion in a recent reading. In fact, Rohr likes to remind readers that if God created everything, and people were designed in God’s image, then all of us are stamped with the blueprint of God’s DNA. Therefore, we are all infinitely and blessedly children of God.

Unfortunately, this week, I had become so attached to the image of who I should be, how I should be, what I should be do-ing, and how others view me, that I became far removed from my so-called, “original God-given face.” I began to believe my own false-narratives, creating my own pain and suffering. I suspect that I am not the only one who does this, especially in the year of 2020.

If we could learn to let go of our false survival based stories, drop the self-limiting beliefs, and quit taking negative events so personally, and allow ourselves to relax, trusting that the Divine is ever-present with us, then we can begin to free ourselves from the need to be reactive, judgmental, self-critical, controlling, combative, or confrontational. Yes, I know this sounds too idealistic, but what if it really is that simple?

“*Be kind to others, but always be compassionate to yourself.*”–from Traditional Medicinals tea bag

My brother recently reminded me of what our Grandmother Helen would say, who often babysat us, if she thought one of my siblings or me was lying. Her classic start to this conversation began by stating our name, followed up with her unique query.

“Stethie,” (or whomever) “Are you storyin’? Are you telling me a story?”

At the time, my brother and I both had a good laugh at this fond remembrance. It was only after I wrote this reflection, that Grandmother’s phrase once more returned to mind. Not only did it put a smile on my face, but it also gave me even greater insight to my own negative self-talk, and it empowered me with a new phrase to use as a reminder when I have given “stories” permission to hide my “original face.”

Thank you, Grandmother Helen. You always had a way of succinctly getting to the point.

*Always worth remembering: You are loved*!

Teachers are Heroes with Heart

December 3, 2020December 3, 2020 by stephsimply, posted in Herald-Dispatch Articles, Simple Observations and Musings

“If you are planning for a year, sow rice; if you are planning for a decade, plant trees; if you are planning for a lifetime, educate people.”– Chinese Proverb

Photo by Christina Morillo on Pexels.com

“Thank you, Teachers,” the sign read on the side of the road.

Wait, what? I couldn’t help but think. Really? It took a global pandemic to inspire appreciation for educators. Hmm . . .

I suppose that is how those who work in the medical field and first responders feel. After all, like educators, those drawn to and working in the healthcare industry, by and large, have always been effective, efficient, and caring individuals. Naturally, praise was given to medical providers from the very beginning of the pandemic–and rightly so! They were putting their own lives on the line while attempting to quell the flames of a ravaging wildfire sparked by a virus for which there was a dearth of knowledge. Story after story would reveal the suffering and agony of the front line caregivers and their patients. My heart, as well as those in my field, ached for those professionals, and we felt grateful for their long suffering service. And yet, there was one question that continually niggled my mind . . .

“Teaching is the one profession that creates all other professions.”– Unknown

Who were the early influencers of these various professionals that make up the health field? Who taught them to read, write, and think mathematically? Who helped to shape and foster their curiosity, their work ethic, and their quest for knowledge and understanding? To be certain, parents are the first, most important, and long-lasting teacher in any child’s life. Additionally, there are often other relatives that influence and impress a child, but guess who often spends more time with a child day-in and day-out? Teachers.

“It takes a big heart to help shape little minds.”– Unknown

This past March (2020), many teachers across the country, as well as at a local level, were told on a Friday to get their students ready. Educators directed students to pack up all of their personal belongings, textbooks, notebooks, personal implements, and any other necessary supplies. Furthermore, on this same fateful day, schools–like the one in which I work–who were fortunate enough to have the resources, also directed teachers to quickly allocate technological resources to students who thought they might need one at home. Those districts without these assets were rapidly scrambling for funds in order to likewise provide technology for students.

Once students were sent home with their overburdened school bags, teachers were likewise told to quickly gather what they thought they would need to teach from home. Additionally, teachers were swiftly conferring with one another and administrators as to the types of resources available throughout the school that could be used to make teaching from home work. Cobbling together this and that, gathering our own bags of wares, like ants marching in a line towards their hill mount, teachers exited the school on that pivotal Friday with the understanding that we were to be up and running as an online educator by Monday. Like a boulder plummeting onto US Rt 52, the dramatic educational paradigm shift had begun. It was time to put on our proverbial hard hats and head into the construction zone.

“Teaching is the greatest act of optimism.”– Colleen Wilcox

News, gossip, and directives swirled around like flaming ash from a distant brush fire. The heat of how to get virtual school up and running amidst worry about safety, closings, quarantines, supply shortages, deaths, headlines, and the never ending chain of one email after another compounded to the ever-building fear, anxiety, and sense of uncertainty. One thing was clear, however, teachers would be there for our students and for one another–no virus was going to stop us.

By the time Monday rolled around, teachers had students enrolled in virtual classrooms–our school used Google products, but other platforms abounded in other school districts. We communicated to students through the virtual classroom and through virtual meetings. The technology was imperfect and full of glitches and hiccups, but students and teachers forged through each and every challenge thrown our way. In a way, educators were pupils once more, learning right along with our students, relying on part innovation, part intuition, and a whole lot give and take via virtual forms of communication.

“The art of teaching is the art of assisting discovery.”– Mark Van Doren

Together, with our colleagues and our students, educators made many new discoveries about technology and pedagogy as well as how to tap into our creativity. We had meetings with one another in which mutual tears were shed for the loss of “how it used to be,” but more often, the focus and concern was for students’ well-beings and how to best provide for their needs–both educationally and psychologically. Additionally, there were a multitude of professional development virtual meetings in which we listened intently, scrawled notes, typed our questions in chat boxes, and discussed with one another in virtual breakout rooms.

This is not to say that they weren’t frustrations, nor am I trying to imply it was a perfect, seamless transition of rainbows, butterflies, and magical, mythical unicorns. It was not. Students would not show up to class meets or not complete their work. Administrators asked for a multitude of documented records, such as, individual missing student work, student needs, staff needs, ideas for improvement and future planning–spreadsheet after spreadsheet and list upon list. Towards the end of April, there were so many lists, spreadsheets, and schedules that it was easy to overlook one or another, and I certainly had my fair share of oversights. However, I wasn’t the only one, and the compounded effect sometimes led to flared tempers, quiet resentment, or virtual words of implications–albeit, never for long.

Plus, there was the learning curve. Educators were continually encouraged to be flexible and foster an attitude of expansive and forward thinking. For those teachers possessing a technologically nimble mindset, this was a Montessori school of experience, full of opportunities to explore, expand, and engage. For those of us with less technological deftness, it was like being asked to wake up each day and start walking in the opposite direction of fast and furious freeway traffic, leaving our brains often feeling short-circuited as our work day grew longer and longer. However, regardless of which side of the technology tree one fell, a new phrase emerged from this experience, “COVID taught me this,” and together with our educational peers across the country, we emerged stronger and more resilient.

Photo by August de Richelieu on Pexels.com

“Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.”– Nelson Mandela

Educators are persistent, tenacious, kindhearted individuals who spend their own money, their own time, and give freely of their own hearts to students each and every day. We did this before the pandemic, we are continuing this now, and we will likewise do this after the reign of COVID. Teachers matter, with or without COVID–just as those in the health professions matter.

Recently, I overheard a confident middle school student reporting to a peer that women tend to choose low-value degrees, like teaching.

“They choose not to make money,” he exclaimed, “because they don’t want to do the hard stuff like be a doctor or lawyer.”

I am not sure where or how he came to this conclusion, and perhaps he will always feel that way about my chosen profession. Regardless of his sentiment, I, along with my colleagues (and my husband–who also happens to be an educator), will continue to work to educate him along with his peers–no matter what life throws our way, in spite of our so-called, “low value” degrees. This is because we know the truth, and now it appears, based upon that sign alongside the state route, the word is spreading.

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Month: December 2020

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Teachers are Heroes with Heart

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