#SOL20 Day 26: Teaching as TV

<<cue lights, music>>

ANNOUNCER: Some say it’s the hardest profession around. Some say, “Those who can’t do, teach.” Well, we’re about to find out what teachers are made of.

<<visual: montage of teachers in classrooms>>

ANNOUNCER: We’ve gathered teachers from all across the nation to test their skills against one another. Each week they’ll face a new challenge. Each week we’ll have one teacher make the honor roll, and one…will be EXPELLED. All of them are competing for the chance to prove themselves and become…

<<cue title sequence>>

ANNOUNCER: TOP Teacher! Our winner will enjoy a $50 Starbucks card, a case of sticky notes and a 32-pack of Flair pens. And now, here’s your host: Movie teacher icon Ben Stein from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

<<cut to Ben Stein in the TEACHER’S LOUNGE, addressing contestants>>

BEN STEIN: Welcome, teachers, to the Teacher’s Lounge. This is where you’ll get a chance to be with one another, and it’s also where you’ll get your assignment for the day. After each challenge, the teachers with the highest and lowest ratings on our evaluation scale will be sent to The Principal’s Office. One of you will be chosen for the honor roll, and one of you…

<<cue music>>

BEN STEIN:…will be EXPELLED. And now? Let’s have our first roll call.

<<cut to each contestant>>

FRAN: Fran Greeley from Davenport Iowa. I’m a 29-year veteran teacher of fifth graders. Been there, done that!

BECCA: Heyyy, Becca Smith, student teacher from Portland, Oregon. I’m soo excited to be here!

DENISE: Denise Williams, eighth grade math teacher from Springfield, Illinois. I’ve seen it all, my friends.

KEN: Hey, I’m Ken Wang, second grade teacher from Miami Florida. Bring the heat!

SARAH: I’m Sarah Goldenrod, a kindergarten teacher from New York City. We kindergarten teachers can do anything!

DANA: I’m Dana Frost, high school performing arts teacher from Phoenix, Arizona. If anyone can handle the drama, it’s me!

BEN STEIN: And now, for today’s challenge. Better start taking notes.

<<walks to chalkboard>>
<<cut to contestants, who take out notebooks and pencils>>
<<cut back to BEN STEIN, who begins writing>>

BEN STEIN: You’re a fourth-grade teacher in a suburban school. 46% of your students have access to electronic devices and the internet at home. Your district, in response to state mandates, has just shifted to at-home learning. Develop a differentiated lesson plan for your students. You have sixty minutes. Your time starts…NOW.

<<cue school bell ringing>>
<<cut to contestants, agog and aghast>>

<<COMMERCIAL>>

#SOL20 Day 25: On Twenty-Five

So, it looks like I’ve made it to my twenty-fifth post for the month of March.

For me, that’s nothing to sneeze at. Twenty-five takes commitment.

Twenty-five is the number of years I will have been married this May. And oh, has THAT taken discipline, and commitment, and WORK. And love, to be sure, but discipline, commitment, and WORK.

Twenty-five is also the number of years I have been a teacher. And this one – this commitment – is especially sweet, given its dubious beginnings.

You see, when I was a student teacher, my cooperating teacher didn’t think I was all that or a bag of chips. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust me, but – well, OK. It was that she didn’t trust me: to handle concerns with the students, parent phone calls or the like. Still, I thought I was making my way pretty well along.

Until my final evaluation meeting.

There, in front of my yearlong mentor teacher and my cooperating teacher supervisor; there, in the meeting that mattered the most; there, in that key time of my student teaching experience –

There, my cooperating teacher questioned my commitment to teaching.

Sitting there, dumbstruck, near tears, I had no defense. I had no response.

My only defense, my only response, has been to commit myself heart and soul to the craft of teaching. To double down on the bets I’ve placed on public education and the people I serve. To teach as hard as I can and as compassionately as I can for as long as I can.

Twenty-five, and counting. I’ll take it.

#SOL20 Day 24: Built For This

My mom and I were chatting about parenting during today’s “shelter in place” order. She remarked on how, with four children, there’s no way she would have been able to keep two of my siblings at home.

I couldn’t disagree. My oldest sister and my brother were never the compliant type growing up. But my other sister and me? We would have cooperated – for completely different reasons.

My older sister is a rule follower’s rule follower. As the second of four children, and sandwiched between two kids who weren’t about that whole “obey the rules” thing, she took it upon herself to be The Good One. So her choice to stay at home back then would be (as it is now) entirely based on Doing The Right Thing.

But me? I joked with my mom: “I was BUILT for this. It’s like I have been preparing my whole life just for this!” We had a good laugh together, because we both knew how true it was.

When I was young, I spent a lot of time by myself. Sometimes, I would hang out in my room reading books, doing puzzles, or listening to music. Other times, I’d walk out my front door and go exploring, either in the neighborhoods or the forested area near me.

Either way, I would happily occupy myself for hours at a time.

(OK, so maybe it didn’t help that I only ever had one friend at a time, so I had to get used to spending time with the one and only me, but that’s a digression for another day.)

I would have been the kid who stayed home, but not because I felt the rules were important. My entire childhood was spent exploring the joys of solitude. Having to be by myself back then would actually have been somewhat validating.

Yes, there are people whose faces I miss. Yes, it breaks my heart to be away from family, friends and students. Yes, I deeply enjoy connecting with people on new and different levels now that we have to work our way around distance.

Still, I cannot deny that I welcome this retreat inward, these uncountable, satisfying hours alone with thoughts. Having this time allows me once again to inhabit my own inner world, and to accept and celebrate that part of me.

It’s been a while.

#SOL20 Day 23: Weight of the World

This slice is part 1 of I’m not sure how many. I know my protagonist has some things to figure out, and I need time with her to decide what that’s going to be. But I’m especially grateful to Fran Haley at lit bits and pieces for providing me with the inspiration to get going in this direction. Thank you!

Her alarm buzzed her awake at 5:10, as it did every weekday. It was tough to shut it off, what with reaching around the giant sack laid on top of her, but she was able to manage. She knew that she’d probably sleep better without that thing – heck, she’d probably breathe better, too – but there was something about the weight of it that felt secure, kept her rooted to herself.

Her burden made a deep thunk as she rolled it off the bed and onto the bedroom floor. She examined its contents to make sure everything was still in order.
Obligation? Check.
Expectation? Check.
Guilt? Shame? Disappointment? Check, check, check.

Hoisting it over her shoulder, she began to go about her day. She had never directly weighed the world, but it was probably comparable to what was in this bag.

She started her way down the street, stooped under the heft of it all. No one really noticed her dragging along, but then again, she didn’t expect them to. Few ever really did. Every so often, someone would say something to her. It would often go like,

“Wow. You really have a lot to carry there. How do you do it?”
“I don’t know,” she’d shrug. “I just do.”

Or perhaps:

“You’re carrying so much. Let me know how I can help you. Just ask.”
“OK,” she’d respond, perfectly aware that asking was not within her skill set.

No. Most times, carrying it quietly was the easiest thing for all involved.

#SOL20 Day 22: Story's Return

(continuation from SOL day 3)

Snow in March:
Of course, she laughed
As she gazed out over the –

“HEY! What do you think you’re doing?”

She felt her ears redden, felt all of her body weight condense and harden into a ball at the pit of her stomach, felt her face prickle.

She did not need to look up to determine the source of that voice. She raised her head but stopped short of full-on eye contact. “Oh. Hey. Story. You again.”

“Yeah. ME again.” Story pressed on. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

The writer sat, silent. I’ve been in trouble enough times to smell a rhetorical question when it comes my way.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Another one. Best stay quiet and safe.

“Listen. You signed yourself up for a story challenge. A STORY challenge. I tried being gentle with you before. But what on earth do you think you’re doing messing around with the poetry and personal narrative, huh?”

Someone should probably tell Story that poetry and journal both convey narrative, not to mention craft, and that Story should know that better than anybody else. Someone other than me.

“Answer me!”

“Well…I…um…” she stuttered.

“Why haven’t you been writing fiction, as you challenged yourself to do?” Story was in full swing, hands on hips, foot tapping, head cocked to the left in just that way. “Why aren’t you keeping that promise to yourself?”

“Well, see, the thing is this,” she stammered. “It’s been a really hard month, and it’s been everything I could do to keep my head above water and take care of myself, and I’ve kind of just been proud of myself for sticking with writing at ALL, and – ”

“You know what they say about excuses, right?”

“That everyone’s got one and they all stink?”

“Hey!” Story snapped. “Who asked you to mouth off to me?”

Dang it. Another hypothetical, she thought. Got to get better at that. The writer’s eyes brimmed.

“Listen.” Story’s tone softened. “I’m just saying you owe it to yourself to try a little more fiction. To keep that promise to yourself. To stretch yourself a little. You do deserve that, don’t you?”

The writer sighed, then nodded. Like a popsicle, she knew when she’d been licked.

#SOL20, Day 21: Teen Parenting, Exhibit Q

Yes, it it true that I like a picked-up house. Yes, it is true that clutter produces within me an actual physical response.

Yet.

Nothing, I repeat, NOTHING breaks the resolve of a mother determined to leave that box from Tuesday night’s 1 am pizza order on the table until a certain 16-year-old decides he’s going to pick it up his own dang self.

Note the clean table, the freshly vacuumed rug

It can be there until next month. I don’t care.

I will work around it.

I will clean around it.

I will ignore it happily.

Because THAT is the stuff that motherhood is made of.

#SOL20 Day 20: Does Anyone Else Feel

Does anyone else feel, she wondered,

Like a washcloth wrung within an inch of its life?

Like a running shoe, its insole black with sweat and impact?

Like the sponge that’s done one too many hand-washings?

Like that garbage bag after someone stuffed that one. Last. Thing. In?

Like the couch cushion, enduring flop after flop after flop?

Like that last scrap of soap melting into the soap dish?

Like a teabag on its third steep?

Like a pencil nub that deeply yearns for a sharpening?

Like a joke that tanked its punch line?

Like the hot-water heater after everyone has showered?

…

No?…

Ah well, she thought, as she straightened up, squared her shoulders, and geared herself up for the next day.

#SOL20 Day 19: Shades of Silence

She sad amid the silence, and between the breath and stillness around her, she realized

That there are so very many shades of silence:

The tight, cold waiting to see what that noise in the night was,

The prickle-eared awareness of what children are up to on the opposite end of the house,

The sudden release and escape from sound after turning the car engine off, the one you didn’t realize how much you needed,

The anxious elongation of time-thread that pulls between you and the answer to that Very Important Question,

Or this:

A silence that comes as just

plain

quiet.

#SOL20 Day 18: What Today Has Brought

My district has gone to day 2 of e-learning, and I challenged my kids this morning to post more of themselves and how they were doing. And they did NOT disappoint.

My students post the sweetest pep talks I’ve ever seen. They’ve shared playtimes with their dogs, ideas for group story activities, forts they’ve built in their living rooms, DIY beach parties, homemade memes, silly skits, random jokes, heartfelt expressions and plain old check-ins.

As I watch and interact with all of these beautiful pieces of themselves my kids have put out into the world, my heart overflows. And yes, tomorrow’s pep talk will be a celebration of that beauty. I plan on acknowledging how wonderful my kids are, and then challenging them to the next step:

Responding to one another’s work.

Right now, my loveys are all engaging in a delightful round of parallel play, sharing moments of love and excitement and brilliance. Now I want them to recognize that within each other.

As for me, I will continue plugging through my day. It’s a mix of:
-hovering over email and other platforms to monitor and encourage my students as they learn
-stopping to do 5 push-ups at every chance as part of my gym’s at-home challenge (I’m up to 205. I’ve got this!)
-threading together data for my grad school final project which somehow, magically, will come together despite the fact that I can’t be in the same room with my kiddos
-checking in with friends and family members
-trying not to step on my dog

What else am I looking forward to after quitting time?
-more push-ups
-Wine Wednesday with my college son (we’re trying out a new tradition)
-finding a good use for the butter I’ve set on the counter in prep for baking

And you? What are the small victories you’re finding on these tricky, tricky days? What pep talks would YOU share?

#SOL20 Day 17: To My Loveys

note: I’ve decided to begin each day with a “pep talk” to my kids. I had a different video shot for tomorrow, but this is the one I’m now deciding to go with…

Hi Friends!

We’ve made it past the first part of our e-learning experience. You’ve all logged in, logged on, and you’ve started to complete the assignments you’ve been given.

You’ve crafted story maps for hero’s journeys. You’ve told me what it’s like to move from place to place. You’ve shared your special cozy places for writing. You’ve done some research on Shakespeare and his Globe Theater. You’ve done some writing.

All that is so very nice.

Now. Here’s what I really want from you.

Start talking to each other. Think of your OWN pep talk you’d like to share. Add some comments or thoughts to give feedback to your classmates. Share words of encouragement, or share what worries you right now, or share what’s happening in your days.

Because, my friends, we need each other. I see the way you interact with one another in class. I see the way you joke around with one another, the way you push each other in conversation, the way you validate one another and make each other feel like YES, being smart is a GOOD thing. That we can get super excited about learning and that’s okay. That we can rattle on with silly jokes or science theories or philosophical debates and no one will bat an eye.

Because that’s what we do for each other. And that’s what I don’t want you to miss out on.

So post your thoughts, your ideas, your wishes, your silliness, your encouragement so that we can keep the wonderful community we’ve all grown to love.

Now make like a manicurist and nail it!