Tag: education

See the soul and ignore the story: Lessons from teaching

Featured by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

Ignore the story and see the soul.  And remember to love. You’ll never regret it.–Seane Corn

First years of teaching 👩‍🏫

Over the decades of teaching, I have accrued numerous experiences.  Several of these stand-out memories occurred during my earlier years of education.  Therefore, in honor of another school year’s conclusion, I will share some of these memories over the coming weeks, and the many lessons these interactions provided. 

My first teaching position was at Kentucky high school in the late 80s.  Newly graduated and exceptionally young, I was ready to change the world.  Like all first year career experiences, the theoretical training of a university was quite different from the reality I faced.  

I was one of five special education teachers.  Our classrooms were separated from the rest of the school.  We were part of the gymnasium facilities, and my classroom was one of three under the visitor’s side of the bleachers. 

Lines of Separation 📚

In order to get to my “classroom,”  I had to walk through two other “classrooms.”  One wall was slanted because it was the underside of the bleachers, and one wall was a rolling chalkboard separating my classroom from another.  One wall was painted concrete block, and the other side was a giant metal wall with a locked door that stored the ROTC weapons.  The desks were mismatched leftovers from a previous era, and classroom supplies were limited.

My first day of school was filled with nerves, and the isolation of my situation led me to feel even more anxious. However, there was little time to dwell on it as the students began arriving.

The Encounter 🗣️

The last student to arrive stood over six feet in height and brawny.  (I would later learn he worked as a hired-hand at various tobacco farms across the county.)  With one cursory glance, he sized me up, spit tobacco on the floor, and picked me by my shirt collar.

“You ain’t teachin’ me nothin.  I ain’t here to learn.  Only here cause it’s the law.”

His startling blue eyes conveyed his disdain for me as we locked eyes.  I knew this was a make or break moment, and I was determined to not break. So I said the most brilliant set of words.

“Put. Me. Down.”

It was an intense moment.  On the inside, I was filled with fear.  Fear I would lose my job after only one day.  Fear I was about to get hurt.  Fear I wasn’t strong enough to withstand the discipline this job would require.

Wordless Truce ☮️

Outwardly, my eyes never wavered from his.  I would not be intimidated by him.  Seconds seemed to stretch, although I am certain this was not a long moment.  However, it was long enough for me to take in the acne scars on his face as well as a few other scars that looked as if he had experienced his fair share of altercations.  His blonde curly hair was cut in a mullet.

I was acutely aware of the other students’ quiet stares taking in the situation as I once more repeated, “Put. Me. Down.”

Through some act of Divine Intervention, or perhaps the I-am-not-messing-around look in my eye, the student put me down.  I recall the way he smugly looked around at the other students as if to convey he had shown me.  

Peace Offering 🕊️

I could have taken him to the office or written his behavior up, but I chose not to.  Even though I was inexperienced, I knew that would immediately build a wall between not only him, but the rest of the students and me.  Instead, I believed I needed to find out more about him, and work on building a relationship with him and the other students. But, I wasn’t sure how, or even if, it could be done.

In the meantime, once things cooled down, I gave him cleaning supplies and asked him to spit out his tobacco in the trashcan and clean up the floor. Then, I walked away and busied myself with other students.  It took several minutes before he started, but he did clean it up.

Seasons of Change 🍁❄️

By late fall, the young man would occasionally engage in conversations with me, especially if I focused on his knowledge of raising tobacco and his work ethic.  He explained that he had worked alongside his dad, but at some point that stopped.

By winter, I had learned that his father was disabled, and no longer worked, but apparently still knew how to lift his arm to drink and hit. This partly explained the young man’s tough-guy persona. The student often stayed overnight with buddies around the county, or during certain parts of the growing season, he’d stay over at the farms on which he was working.

Misdiagnosis 📖

By mid-year, I felt certain that the student was misidentified.  He was no doubt dyslexic, but that had nothing to do with his IQ or his abilities.  There were so many life and reading skills that I wanted to work with him on, but time was running out.  The young man was determined to quit school once he turned 18, even though he was only a junior. 

One class in which this young man thrived was shop.  He could build and repair seemingly anything.  One of the special education teachers often talked about the young man’s talent and sometimes hired this student for work on the teacher’s farm.

By March, I had established a good working relationship with the student.  I teased him about his haircut and cowboys boots, and he made jokes about my height and “easy” job. Along with the other students, he learned to read and complete job applications, manage a budget, how to dress/act during a job interview, and even how to plan, shop, and prepare a week’s worth of simple meals. He was even reading short books with adapted text about famous athletes. 

Rumor Has It 😔

One day in April, the young man did not show up for school.  That wasn’t unusual.  Many of my students had irregular attendance.  After his third consecutive day of absence, I went to see an administrator to inquire about the student’s absence. He said he would check into it, but the gossip among students said he wasn’t coming back. The young man had had his birthday.

I have no idea what became of this student.  I would like to think the best, but I am not so sure.  Maybe he has a job, family, and even grandkids by now.  I can only hope, but I’ll most likely never know..

Lessons learned 📝

Nevertheless, I am grateful for this student.  He was the first to teach me to ignore the bluster of the student’s story, and see their soul–see the person they can be at their best self and recognize their potential.  I accepted him as he was, envisioned a better future for him, and tried to help him see it too.  

He also taught me that no matter how hard I work with students, they are still individuals who will determine their own fate.  That was, and still remains, a hard lesson to swallow.  So instead, I will focus on his best, albeit unintentional, gift:  See the soul, not the story.  You will never regret it; I haven’t yet.

Educational Light: Reflections of a life of teaching

Featured by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

“Just as one candle lights another and can light thousands of other candles, so one heart illuminates another heart and can illuminate thousands of other hearts.”–Leo Tolstoy

Sweet Welcomes 🤗

By the time you read this, Dear Reader, National Teacher Appreciation Week will be coming to an end. However, mine began, in its own unique way, the week prior.  As I walked into the high school on a Friday  after being out for a few days, an early arriving student exclaimed, “Ms. Hill, you’re back!  I missed you!” Then, she surprised me with a hug.

Later, before the beginning of mass, our weekly church service, another student said she was happy to see me as I sat down beside her.  Two rows in front of me, an additional student, and his buddies, all started waving at me with smiles on their faces.  I was definitely touched.

The Dog Ate My Homework 🐶

There are many times, as an educator, especially in more recent years, where it feels I am engaged in a battle with a myriad of student-distraction, and I therefore wonder what kind, if any, impact I can make in my students’ lives.  Video games, travel sports, youtube, and phones are just a few of the numerous diversions vying for students’ attention. “The dog ate my homework” excuse has been replaced with more modern tales. 

 “I stayed up late playing video games with my friends and lost track of time.”  

“I didn’t come to class this morning (or yesterday) because I was so tired from playing in the tournament this weekend.”  

“I completely forgot to ________ (read, study, write) because there was phone drama last night with my ________ (friends, boyfriend, girlfriend).”

“I performed four shows (or competitions) this past weekend, and I completely forgot about __________ (assignment).”

None of their distractions are any better or worse than distractions of the earlier decades in my career.  They are simply different.

Therefore, I do empathize with my students’ level of fatigue and distractions.  My teenage world was vastly different from their current teen world, but I still recall the angst, the hormones, the emotions, and my own unique set of distractions. Plus, I am professional enough to recognize that their excuses are not personal; it’s just their reality, shaped by society, parents, and peers.  

checking in 😃

Which is why I try to work with, rather than against, the current tide, taking time to talk to the students in order to get to know them.  What makes them tick?  What are their interests?  I try to notice when one, or several, are having a bad day, so I can check in with them and offer help or a compassionate ear.

Still, I am not perfect–not by any means.  There are days where all the best-laid instructional plans go wrong, technology in the classroom doesn’t work, and/or multiple interruptions occur.  On those days, I look around the empty classroom after students have exited and wonder if I am making a difference?  Am I preparing the students, not only for the next level of English, but also, am I adequately conveying that I care even more about the type of people they are becoming?  Am I making that personal connection that communicates to them that their life matters and is important? 

Words Matter 🗣️

As a writer and educator, I know that words matter. Words are tools.  Words can be used to build up another person, encourage a hurting soul, and foster a healthy relationship.  Likewise, words can deeply wound, leaving scars that can be felt for years. Therefore, when those students used their words to tell me that I was missed, it felt as if, perhaps, I do make a difference, even in a small way.

Later, that same day, I ran into a national chain store to pick up a couple of items.  As I was darting to the self-checkout station, a young lady greeted me with, “Hey, gorgeous!”

Now, at my age, that is not a line I often hear, but I also know from being around teens that is a phrase females will sometimes use with one another.  The speaker’s face was familiar, but my brain struggled to match the face to the correct moment in time. Then, I looked at her name badge.

It was a former student of mine from over 20 years ago during the time period in which I taught kindergarten. We talked for several moments, and she shared pictures of her two sons.  She caught me up on the lives of her siblings and parents. Listening to her talk, I took in her smile and dancing eyes.  I could tell she was happy, which, in turn, made my heart smile because, ultimately, I want all of my students to have an overall happy and successful life, however they define it.

Unforgettable Moments 🙌

As I prepared to walk away, I thanked her for stopping me and marveled that she would even recognize me. 

“How could I forget you?”

Those five words may not seem like much. They won’t grab national headlines, and they won’t earn me a six figure income.  Nor will her words put my name in lights.  Still, those words lit me up from within. Her words touched  me in ways headlines, money, and fame could never feel.  To know I made a difference with at least one past student, and to hopefully continue to affect current students to feel empowered about their own future choices is what continues to motivate me all these years later.

Thank you, Teachers 👩‍🏫 👨‍🏫

To all the educators who taught me, thank you.  I don’t need National Teachers Recognition Week to remind me of the impact your teaching had on me.  I continue to carry the torch you lit within me in your classrooms of long ago.

To all the educators in the trenches with me, thank you. Teaching is a challenging and often undervalued role, but the light you bring to your students matters.  And that is why we teach–to pass on the light to our students that was given to us. 

Thank you, Students 🙇 🙇‍♀️

Finally, to all of my students, past and present, thank you.  Thank you for sharing your light with me. You make my life richer, more interesting, and definitely a more engaging experience!  Never hide your light, continue to shine it, and may you bless the future world with your many talents and gifts.  Heaven knows, this ol’ world needs more light.

If you look closely, you can see, this student’s book, (Madelyn) was truly “eaten” by her dog. He took several bites out of the tops of the pages of the novel she was reading for my English 9 class.

Teachers Matter: Welcome to the Next Generation of Educators

Featured by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

“So enter that daily thou mayest grow in knowledge, wisdom, and love.” –Alumni Gateway, Ohio University, entrance view.

May 2017.  Upon high school graduation, like many, my daughter, Madelyn (Maddie), thought she had an idea regarding the direction of her adult path.  However, once immersed in the pursuit of this path, biochemistry/chemistry, despite excelling at it, she was miserable. Midway through her undergraduate studies, after much reflection, discussion, and contemplation, Maddie bravely decided to pivot.

Her decision to change course was not a simple one.  And while I do not want to speak for Maddie’s experience during this process, I do recall her stating that the one class that truly brought her joy during her first two years of undergraduate work was an art course.  Art was her minor, but in the decision to switch, art became her major, and biochemistry/chemistry became her minor.  

Like all change, there was some catching up to do and several adjustments, especially since she switched locations of study. Then COVID, and the ensuing pandemic, hit, impeding progress as the railways of education greatly slowed in an attempt to switch tracks.  This meant virtually navigating coursework meant to be completed in an art studio.

As the pandemic’s impact grew, the staggering blow of life-interrupted affected all, especially those between 18-25 years.  Daily living went upside down and sideways for this age group as the so-called normal way of interacting and connecting with friends, family, and mentors was often lost during times of isolation.  Even as restrictions gradually eased, those last two years of undergraduate study, while simultaneously working part-time, were not the typical college-age experiences for Maddie and her peers.

In the shadow of the COVID cloud, Maddie was also reflecting, examining, and embracing a greater understanding of herself to best determine what her next steps into adulthood would look like.  Again, I cannot speak to her internal experience, but from the outside, her contemplation process appeared deep, honest, and, at times, painful.  I wanted to help ease the discomfort of this transitional process, but as with any metamorphosis, only the person within the cocoon can undergo the change.

Beside a bright green cap, you will see Madelyn looking up at us with a glowing face of pride.

May 2023. John, my husband, and I waited as the candidates for Doctoral and Master’s degrees from Ohio University, our alma mater, made their way into the Convocation Center.  It was a long procession with Patton College of Education entering as the next-to-last school of candidates. Finally, we spied Maddie with a smile for miles, waving at us, face glowing with pride.  She had not only emerged victorious from the cocoon of young adult transition, but also, she had successfully earned a Master of Education degree during this transformation and appeared ready to take flight.  I hoped that like a sponge, she soaked up all the joy, hope, and satisfaction relegated to such a momentous occasion.

Celebratory milestone moments of life are few and far between.  These cherished junctures of life mark a moment in time when one can say, “I did it.  I put in the work.”  Or, as Maddie likes to say, “Nevertheless, she persisted.”  And persist, she did.

And so, as John and I sat there, tears frequently slipping out of our eyes, I reflected over the ways in which this moment could potentially impact her life.  You see, our daughter is now a fourth generation educator, the ninth teacher of our collective families.  Education is not an easy career, and often the rewards are not, per se, tangible–at least if you measure monetarily.  Instead, the rewards are more intrinsic.  It is a calling to go forth and make a difference in the lives of others.

It struck John and me that these hundreds of candidates, no matter their field, present in full regalia, were there, in part due to their past teachers.  In fact, though teachers are often at the bottom of the pay scale, there isn’t a single adult, or child over the age of five, whose lives have not been impacted by a teacher.  As with any field, there are always going to be some bad apples, but the dynamic teacher, the teacher who cares, who is passionate about his or her students and subject matter can truly make a difference, and, in some cases, be transformational.  Call me biased, but there is not a doubt in my mind that Maddie will be the latter.

I have often shared a story about my Papaw.  He once pulled me aside and said, “Stethie,” (that is how he said Stephie), “Your ol’ Papaw only got a 5th grade education.”  

Papaw then spoke proudly of his sister who had gone to college, earned her degree, and went on to become a teacher. 

“Don’t be dumb like your ol’ Papaw.  Get your education.  Go as far as you can with it.” 

He went on to encourage me to be a teacher, like his sister, and later, his daughter, my mother.  

“There’s no greater job.”

Papaw and me when I was around two years old in his backyard in front of his garden.

Little did he know that I would not only go on to become a teacher, but also marry an educator who was from a family of teachers.  Therefore, I can only imagine the smile on Papaw’s heavenly face, knowing his belief about education still inspires and motivates today.

This story will be published in May on the final day of National Teacher Appreciation Week. Numerous colleges and universities will be graduating more educators around this same time period, but the fact remains that the long-standing shortage of teachers that has been increasing since before the pandemic, will continue to grow. In fact, according to the Economic Policy Institute, this is not a result of the number of qualified candidates as much as it is the working conditions and lack of compensation.  

I am hopeful this will change for my daughter and her educational peers, but I am often discouraged by current political culture and societal trends, especially with regards to the importance of education.  Nonetheless, Madelyn comes from a long line of people who knew, know, and believe(d) in the merit of quality education and the impact of a positive teacher. My prayer is that she, along with the newest class of teachers entering the field, will proudly stand on the shoulders of those who came before them, and bless this world and its children, with their many gifts in even greater and more innovative ways than their predecessors could have ever dreamed.

“So depart that daily thou mayest better serve thy fellow man, thy country, and thy God.”–Alumni Gateway, Ohio University, exit view.

Prayer for Uvalde, Texas

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

“There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.”–Aeschylus

Photo by Caleb Oquendo on Pexels.com

I walked through the strangely-quiet darkened hall, down the familiar stairwell, and exited under a leaden sky with light rain falling.  Students had left an hour or so earlier, and I was heading to a meeting regarding the next school year. Nonetheless, shouldn’t there be some magical feeling for the start of summer break?  Instead, all ranges of emotions churned within my gut. How could I feel celebratory when my heart was reeling from ANOTHER school shooting?  Meanwhile, the intensity of the rain increased . . .

Thinking back to the previous week’s events, I realize that powerful sentiments, including grief, were coming together like the confluence of several rivers vying for dominance as their waters merge.  35 years in education, and yet, all I could truly focus upon was the Uvalde community.  What hopes and dreams were savagely snatched forever–even from those who survived–while terror reigned supreme inside the school and confusion, disorganization, and unbelievable anguish surrounded the school?

What about the two Robb Elementary educators?  Between them, they had 40 years of teaching experience. Years of service to the community that were also brutally wrenched away.  They too had children, spouses, parents, and loved ones.  Their hopes and dreams were likewise vanquished.

Once more, a lone male–psychologically hurting–legally accessed weapons of war and played out his own private warfare on innocent victims.  While we can state the school was at fault for having a door open, as an educator, I know the reality of schools.  A door left open can happen (At the time of writing this, the report had not yet come out that, indeed, the teacher DID close the door, and the door’s lock malfunctioned).  However, an open door at a school, or any community building for that matter, should not be considered an implicit invitation to mortal combat.

I was teaching and pregnant with my daughter when the Columbine shooting occurred.  John, my husband, who is also an educator, and I sat in our modest house, silent tears streaming down our faces as we watched the news story unfold.  How could that happen?  Little did we know we were bearing witness to the start of what would become a terrifying trend in education. 23 years later, names of schools, nowhere near me geographically speaking, are as familiar as names of past students–Red Lake Senior High School, Virginia Tech, Sandy Hook Elementary School, and Stoneman Douglas High School; and the list continues.  Countless schools with families and communities forever changed and affected.

Several years after Columbine, I was teaching Kindergarten, and it was the first time for the school to practice an “Active Shooter Response Drill.”  Given the fact that I had advance notice, I talked with my young students about the notion of “bad guys” and how the school had to practice what to do if a bad guy came to school– just like they practiced what to do in case of a fire.   

Per procedure, the coded announcement came over the intercom, and I quickly ran to lock my classroom door and instructed my students to hide and cover as we had previously practiced.  A well-meaning sheriff deputy repeatedly knocked on my classroom door stating things in an attempt to trick me to unlock the door.  One student began to softly cry, followed by another, and another as I crept from one student to another trying to allay their fears and reassure them that this was pretend.  Nonetheless, they were scared.

I share that memory to say, if those few moments of hiding in a darkened classroom evoked such a fear response in my former students, what terrors were experienced by those blameless children trapped in Robb Elementary School?  What conflicting emotions must the teachers and staff members have experienced as they tried to keep their students safe and calm, while thinking about their own families, and watching one of their very own Uvalde youth massacre beloved students and colleagues? 

Children are a sacred part of society, and the schools they attend are the heart of the community. When children and educators are in school, they should be active participants in learning, engagement, and educational problem-solving, rather than passive participants in a disturbed soul’s personal anger campaign. Parents, children, and educators should have the peace of mind that the school is valued, supported, and always protected by community leaders, policy makers, and societal structures, including local law enforcement 

I am sickened by the politicians, community leaders, and even some journalists, who use the Uvalde event as an opportunity to point fingers, grow their audience, and puff up themselves with haughty righteousness.  Their pandering, grandstanding, and virtue signaling are NOT solving the problem–which is multifaceted and requires multiple types of community interventions.  To them I say, get off your soap box, get into communities and listen–I mean really listen with both ears–and then, work for real solutions rather than sound bites.  Endeavor to genuinely serve your community, instead of posturing for cameras looking for the next crisis-opportunity for which you can preen and pose.

I end where I began this piece. Summer is starting, and schools have, or will soon be, dismissed for another academic year. Meanwhile, the blood of more children and more educators weaves and seeps into the soil and rubble of another school.  There will be no more summers for them.  No more new beginnings.

I once wrote about the importance of threading a needle when sewing. All the fibers of the thread must be concentrated and twisted together to go through the eye of the needle.  Like the fibers of thread, it is easy for one fiber to get distracted, and when that happens, the thread will not go through.  Once more, we, as a nation, are being asked to go through the eye of the needle.  This is an opportunity to bind the ties that connect us–schools, children, communities–and sew together the common ground on both sides of the aisle.  Can we avoid distractions, remain tightly focused, and come together in order to thread this needle?  The silenced victims of the Uvalde classrooms beg us to do that.

Photo by Robin McPherson on Pexels.com

The End of an Educational Experiment . . .for now

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

“What a long strange trip it’s been.”–Jerry Garcia

“Dear Ms. Hill,  Thank you for all of your hard work and patience.”

This was a one-sentence thank you note I received from a student in advance of the end of the academic school. I appreciated his sentiment and reflected over what I now think of as the “pandemic years of education”.  These past two academic school years have certainly tested teachers’, students’, and parents’ abilities to practice patience–both within ourselves and with one another in the educational community.  It forced all of the involved stakeholders to work in ways for which we were not prepared, and it stretched us to new limits.

As a middle school, 6-8 Reading Language Arts teacher, I have read countless student journals expressing their feelings of fear and uncertainty when the pandemic first began, their high levels of anxiety as well their feelings of isolation during their time in quarantine, their feelings of frustration during day-upon-day of virtual learning, and their exaperastion when dealing with glitchy/malfunctioning wifi or frozen devices.  Despite all of the pandemic educational vexations, students also wrote of their newfound appreciation for the value of the in-person community that schools foster.  Nonetheless, the scars of this experience, I fear, will remain with many of our students for years to come. 

“Reduced learning time has likely impeded student learning and also affected the development of the whole child.”–Economic Policy Institute

Meanwhile, when reflecting upon this pandemic experience with colleagues, both in the public and private school setting, many reflect upon the multiplicity of issues and/or frustrations, depending upon their unique school community.  Pedagogical adaptations seem to have been one of the major challenges often stated by the educators due to virtual learning, shortened school year, and/or hybrid learning.  Then, there were forced adjustments to instructional delivery in order to balance the engagement of virtual students while simultaneously instructing and attending to the needs of in-person students. This demanded that teachers refine and adapt instructional plans–often on-the-fly if there were wifi issues–in order to best facilitate student learning. Additionally, curriculum was often gleaned to the most essential learning objectives and standards also due to a shortened calendar year and/or class time and, in some cases, to allow for additional time to address the social/emotional needs of the students. Meanwhile, administrative tasks seemed to double with an endless supply of emails, on-line grading, and a multitude of spreadsheets and documentation monitoring student attendance, progress, or lack thereof.

Looking back over this experience, I feel as if I am standing on top of one mountain peak, but I can clearly see there are more summits to climb in the coming academic years.  From my current apex, I can tell you this.  Teachers and students should not judge themselves too harshly as this school year winds down.  Virtual teaching and learning during a pandemic was hard–plain and simple.  Students and teachers alike, across the country, were asked to exit their respective schools on March 13, 2020 with all of their personal/professional supplies and no preparation.  Then, on Monday, March 16, we were exhorted to embark on what would, at this point in my 30-plus years as an educator, be the most dramatic educational paradigm shift I have experienced that continued throughout the summer months of 2020 and on into the 2020-2021 school year for which we are now wrapping up.

One thing is for certain, the pandemic compelled teachers and students alike to establish a strong foundation in the employment of technology for educational purposes. The downside of this is that we also learned that technology is dependent upon access to wifi, devices that work, and equal access for all students to reliable devices and internet access.  While I was blessed to work in a school that offers equal access to devices (although our local wifi provider had MUCH to be desired), that was not the case for all schools.  Additionally, even with working devices, the importance of reliable internet service came to the forefront of the educational world as I witnessed in my own school.  As a teacher who committed to operating paperless during this school year, due to virtual learning, my students and I, very quickly, had to learn how to be incredibly patient when there was no service, certain platforms crashed, or devices simply froze. Which leads me to another lesson.

The last day of school for 1st period, 8th grade, Reading Language Arts students, for 2020-2021, whether in-person or virtual. Eventually, all but one student, returned to the classroom.

“It’s (COVID) taught us that technology can be wonderful, but it will never replace the value of people in safe but rigorous learning spaces talking, playing, and working together.”–Brad Olsen, Senior Fellow in the Center for Universal Education

The importance of local communities, administrators, teachers, students, and parents valuing and supporting one another cannot be overstated. Communities witnessed, very quickly, that not only do schools provide an education for their children, but they are also a reliable source of childcare that keeps children safe, fosters their social development, and supports their emotional and physical well-being.  Meanwhile, administrators, teachers, and students discovered the importance of the synergistic experience that happens with in-person classroom learning. While the remote learning model worked–and will probably continue in certain circumstances–there are real educational, social, and emotional benefits from interacting on-site with one another within the structured periphery of a school setting. 

The last day of school for my 8th grade, second period, Reading Language Arts class for 2020-2021, at times, many were virtual, and by the end of the year, all were in-person

“COVID-19 highlighted the essential role of child care for children, families, and the economy, and our serious underinvestment in the care sector.”–Daphna Bassok, Nonresident Senior Fellow in the Brown Center on Education Policy

While I have no doubt, next year will bring the educational system continued challenges from the lingering effects of this pandemic, I believe, overall, we have the ability to face them with an even greater capacity of compassion and empathy if we heed its many lessons.  The pandemic, it seems to me, has reinforced why it is crucial for the community at large to listen to the needs of educators, parents, and students.  It has given local leaders an opportunity to reflect upon the critical role of childcare and its contribution to the fiscal wellbeing of its community.  Likewise, the educational system must continue to rethink and adapt instruction in order to better facilitate student learning while continuing to cultivate ways to meet the emotional and physical needs of children, caregivers, and educators.  One-size does not fit all when it comes to technology, education, and childcare, but all affect and influence the successful functioning of the communities at large.  

In the end, I circle back to what my student simply wrote.  Thank you to the many who extended me patience through what has been one, if not the most, challenging 15 months of my career.  Many have granted me grace in moments of extreme stress and emotional duress, and for those unnamed moments, I am eternally grateful.  Here’s to summer break, and a fresh start on the coming school year.  May schools blessedly remain open.

First period class clowning around on their last day of school which was also a dress down day for their last day of 8th grade.
Second period, 8th grade, striking a pose on their last day of 8th grade which was also a dress down day.

Teachers are Heroes with Heart

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 . . .

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“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

Photo by ATC Comm Photo on Pexels.com

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.

Photo by Fernando Arcos on Pexels.com

“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.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“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.  

We all need a little patience

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

“In a time of drastic change, it is the learners who inherit the future.”–Eric Hoffer

“Change is only felt when it is drastic.”–Lailah Gifty Akita

Dedicated to the teachers with whom I work, and all the other educators, near and far.

As I step into the warm shower, pulsating water beats down on my tight neck, my low back is still dully throbbing from the previous day’s efforts, and my feet, my heavens, my feet, they are pulsating from the constant pounding of walking on concrete.  

It’s Friday.  You can do this.  Everyone is feeling similar aches–it’s not just you.  Yes, but most others are a heckuva lot younger!  You can do this; you’ve done this before–albeit, not so drastic . . . or was it?

Students working at school in the age of COVID and an era of paperless (as close to it as possible) education.

I remember following the Special Education Coordinator of the county school district in which I had first been hired fresh out of college.  I felt proud, excited, and eager.  The clipped, rhythmic pace of her heels as they click-clacked across the tiled floor resounded–even more so when she continued on into the gym.  At the time I couldn’t understand why we were in the gym when she was supposed to be taking me to my classroom.  

Tables cleaned and sanitized well before 7:30 am when the students begin arriving to homeroom.

Eventually we made our way to the opposite side from which we entered, walked up some steps, and began walking under one side of the gym’s bleachers.  Clickety-clack, clackety-click, past what looked like one semi-formed classroom through another vaguely formed classroom until we reached the end.  This was to be my so-called classroom with not a single window.  No textbooks.  No materials.  Broken desks.  Dirty teacher desk.  Not even real walls for two sides–just the underside of bleachers, a rolling chalkboard, one concrete wall, and metal, padded locked door with Junior ROTC weapons stowed away behind it.  All 4’11’’ of me would be serving 15-25, 9-12 grades students in this space, the majority of which were lanky, long males who did not want to be there.

Gone were those meticulous lesson plans and the abundant, never ending resources of Ohio University.  The colorful, bright, window-lined classrooms arranged, organized, and utilized based upon the current, best educational practices were nowhere to be seen.  It was 1987, so there was no internet, certainly no cell phones, and those education journals to which I had been advised by academia to subscribe were certainly not going to be of help in this unbelievable setting.  This was a drastic change, and yet, I somehow found a way to make it work for two years before facing my next challenge . . . 

Moving on to another district, I was assigned to teach twelve, K-5 grade level students with severe behavior and emotional issues that often required restraint, in a metal portable classroom isolated from the rest of the school.  I was young and foolish enough to think this was a good idea–a good move for my career.  Certainly, it was financially speaking, but after one day of passive restraint training, I began to wonder.  

Although this classroom had four walls, it was empty and bare, save for a few tables and desks.  Then, there was the challenge of all those different age ranges.  Developmentally, a kindergartener is miles apart from a fifth grader.  The challenges and changes I faced over the next seven years, the unbelievable behaviors I witnessed, and the most heart-wrenching stories–seriously, seriously horrible–still haunt me to this day.  No child should undergo what those children went through.  Baby bottles filled with beer, children sexually abused, parents addicted to drugs and/or alcohol, older children responsible for numerous younger siblings while mom did tricks for drugs . . . the gut wrenching stories never seemed to have an end.  On top of all of this depravity, it was the early 90s, autism was not clearly understood and accurately identified as it is now.  Therefore, I also had several autistic students, mistakenly identified as “behavior disordered” alongside students who were often prone to violent outbursts.  Given the combination of all of these factors, I honestly do not know how I made it work–and yet, somehow Divine Providence helped me through it all.

I have experienced numerous changes in education since those first nine years of my careers, many of which were drastic, and all created unique circumstances for which I was ill-prepared, but none can compare to the combination of educating in the midst of COVID while simultaneously teaching both in-person and virtual students at the exact same time.  As an educator, my colleagues and I are tasked with keeping kids safe from a pandemic-worthy virus, care for their emotional well-being, and educate them in the socially distanced manner of their parents’ choosing–at school or from home–attending a regular schedule of classes through the technological wonders of the imperfect internet.

Each morning begins well before sunrise, in order to begin planning, organizing, and posting from home.  Arrival at school for teachers starts well before 7:00, as each teacher must mix fresh bottles of both disinfectant and sanitizer that is used before and after every class change.  Students begin arriving in our classrooms by 7:30 after going through a routine check of health questions, temperature check, and hand sanitizing procedures.  Classes officially begin by 8:10 after morning announcements, prayer, and pledge.  As students enter my classroom, they must wait until all tables are sanitized.  Then, I must quickly log in and connect my chromebook with my virtual students for that class period.  While I am doing this, in-person students set up their tri-fold, clear plastic dividers and log onto Google Classroom.  We are all masked, and by the end of the day, my voice, and those of my peers, are hoarse from projecting through the barrier of the material covering our mouths and noses.

The day begins mixing fresh batches of both disinfectant and sanitizer. Tables, light switches, door handles, class counters, and sink area all clean well before the 7:30 arrival of students.

While offering instruction, I am simultaneously monitoring, engaging, and facilitating with students within my classroom and those at home.  This also means I must work hard to be as paperless as possible for the benefit of all students, but especially those who are participating virtually.  Then, there are the technological glitches that can cause delays, interruptions, and malfunctions with both groups of students.  Additionally, I am trying to learn, assemble, and implement a multitude of on-line educational platforms to enhance, streamline, and engage all levels of students.  By the day’s end, my Fitbit watch consistently reveals that I have taken anywhere from 15,000-20,000 steps with minimum time spent outside of my classroom walls.  

If the first week is any indication, my work day will consist of a constant stream of decisions, sanitizing, and juggling–juggling in my mind to best meet the needs of both in-person and virtual learners–as I work to redefine the art of facilitating instruction.  Never in my previous educational training did I ever receive training on how to engage and instruct students in a meaningful way during a pandemic.  Nor have I ever seen so many of my fellow teachers experience such high levels of anxiety, stress, and discomfort as I have in one week of school.  The emails from students and parents never end, and it feels as if there is not enough time, nor enough of each teacher to go around. 

And yet, that experience of my early years tells me that we will all adapt, grow, and learn from this.  Educators are a formidable, flexible force driven by the passion to educate and care for all of those entrusted into our care.  However, educators, parents, and students all need extra doses of patience with one another, the ever-evolving educational technological tools, and with ourselves.  The type of drastic change we are undergoing requires much patience, tolerance, and a new level of understanding. Educators and educational institutions are all trying to rapidly respond to a situation for which there has been no previous experience.  There are bound to be countless bumps along this new educational trail which we are currently blazing.

Personally speaking, I am stepping out of my comfort zone, stepping up my game, and stepping into a new role that feels very uncomfortable.  I have never been the most technologically savvy person, but I am learning—some of it on my own through trial and error, but most of it from my professional peers as well as my students  Therefore, I implore parents of students, far and wide, please be patient with teachers and schools.  We want to educate and care for your child as badly as you do, but cutting remarks, critical emails, and sensationalized social media posts only undermine our efforts and morale.  Instead, kind words, thoughtful notes, and genuine appreciation for our efforts can go a long way in supporting our new role within your child’s life. We understand this isn’t easy for you as many of us are parents too.  We understand that you are your child’s number one advocate, and you want what is best for them, but so do we.  We want to keep everyone safe and healthy, both emotionally and physically, including ourselves.

In conclusion, let us focus on what connects us–the well-being and education of children.  Let us, as a community, be supportive of one another as we forge together through this brave new educational world; so that, one day, we can look back on this, as I do on my early years in education, and proudly declare, “We did it; we really did it.  Look how far we’ve come!”