Week four of school has
completed. The first week of school with about 30% of our students back in the
classroom. The window is open until September 18th for parents to decide if
their children will return for the next six weeks. The rumor has it that about
300 more students will opt to return. So, numbers will change, classroom
communities will shift, and hallways will fill.
To say the least, the building is fluid, the routines are flexible
and the sheer amount of work for teachers is increasing. Virtual students, face
to face students, large class sizes, small class sizes, paperwork, PLC,
planning lessons twice for both formats- the wonderful spontaneity of lore has
been replaced with a rigid time frame of planning and tweaking. My spark
seems to have extinguished temporarily.
The love of teaching still runs
through my veins, I still feel the moment of joy as I hear them walking up the
hallway in the morning, I still appreciate the live interaction. But the weight
of grading, planning, accommodating, paperwork, parent communication, student
feedback, team collaboration- well, it is like a boulder teetering on the
precipice and I feel at any moment it is going to tumble on top of me. I can
see the dust kicking up before its inevitable roll.
I am a flexible, positive person. I roll with the punches but these days, the dodging and shifting weight seems to be all I do. I cannot catch a moment to relax. My weekends are full of grading and providing copious feedback and I am just about to collapse.
Now I have felt
stress in the past, of course. Things get overwhelming in this profession- this
is my nineteenth year as an educator- but this is different. This feels
heavier- more emotional- more subtle until it is not. Then the cavalcade begins,
and I cannot seem to get clear of the rubble.
I know most of us are feeling
this way. Like we are not doing enough. I love having students back in my
classroom to interchange energy with and laugh with. But I still have 70% of my
students on-line in classes of 45 or so. I am trying so desperately to connect
with all of them but the time- the Zoom meetings, the tests, projects etc. We have almost no
downtime to really just talk.
We are so busy, that the one thing-
the most important thing to me about being an educator- seems to be slipping
away. So, I have to do something, now before my spark remains gone forever. I
have been searching for something to do, that will not require Zoom breakout
rooms- we are discouraged from using them. I found a way to connect with smaller groups
while still in Zoom.
I discovered Conversation on
Canvas last spring. I met with some students on there to just chat and make
connections. I plan on integrating it back into my virtual classrooms. So, I am testing it out tomorrow to reimagine my 1-minute
check-ins. I need to keep the class synchronous on Zoom so then through Canvas (they have
both open daily anyway) I will have 3 students meet in Conversation throughout the
class period. This way we can stay synchronous with the entire class and I can
on a separate computer meet with small groups and really get to know them
better. It may be a bit chaotic at first, but I will get the hang of it.
It is so important to feel the
spark. To feel the joy. To feel the passion. This year my ‘flow’ my ‘groove’
has been absent. It has been about keeping my head above water. Technology
crashes, programs will not work for some students’, so I have to have backups
to my backups, and this distracts me from the simple and beautiful task of
teaching.
Hopefully tomorrow will awaken in me a new feeling of grace and hope.
I feel sad most days because my connection to gifted education was taken away from me. I no longer have pure classes I have blended classes. I love all my students but the enrichment has been replaced with remediation and engagement.
My love of adventure has been halted by the amount of
curriculum and grading periods and procedure and changes. I have basically laid
down and accepted the disjunctive nature of my world. I hate it. I have been off
writing, social media and everything that used to be of interest and passion
for me.
Its time to take back my individuality,
my whimsy, my wondrous world of pure imagination. I have to let go of the
things I can not control and shape the things I can. It is time to believe in
myself again. To make the connections deeper- to find the beauty in just a
breath and mindful conversations. It is time to be me again.
To knock off the dust of the
tumble and shake clear of the rubble of expectation. I need to blare my music
in class (I do already, but more crazy music) let them collaborate more in
class and in virtual learning. I need to step back and take stock in all that I
have accomplished this last month. I need to see where we started and where we
are now.
Then, I need walk into class with a shovel and climbing gear- because changes are frequent. I need to join Zoom and click on admit all and look them in the eye and smile, as I always do- but with more admiration that they are there and learning. That they are ready to interact and grow as individuals.
Then I need to embrace the fluidity and leave a
little breathing room for fun. Structure is good, but at times we need to just
let loose. So here is my pledge to myself…
Trust your process. Find yourself
in the moment of positivity and hang on to it. Refuse to let the negative pull
of frustration and exhaustion take hold. Self-care is important, remember to
leave things at work. Stay true to yourself. Listen to the laughter, listen to
their voices- on a screen of 45, pause and take it all in, you are a teacher of
many- they trust you and believe in you.
So, you owe it to yourself to do
the same. You are enough. Now hunker down and expect the tumble, the ground is
still unsteady. But your footing is strong. Your fortitude is strong. And your
love, passion and spark are eternal for this amazing profession. Just breathe.
Your positivity will get you through it.
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