When Teachers Don't Feel Valued

I've only worked at four schools in my 21 years in education. There were times when as a faculty we felt protected, valued and appreciated. There were definitely times when we as a faculty and me personally, have felt like mere cogs, no alignment just equipment in a machine. Although knowing our purpose and finding our rhythm on a personal level, never felling whole as a community. I hate feeling disparate, isolated and out of sync.

I have had amazing principals and administration. The kind that inspire and evolve with the spirit of the community. There were happy places to teach. But I have seen regime changes bring down morale leading to mass exodus. I feel kind of like that now. The waves of frustration and insecurity are flowing. Negative stances and apathy are running amuck. I am not sure how to combat it some days. Its leaking from the vents, its circulating in the ventilation and it is definitely creating a sense of anxiety in teachers and students alike.

I am trying to keep my head down- focused on my room (that is a safe place, a creative space) but even that seems to be ebbing as of late. Bad behavior like a running competition between students. Apathy is a disease. It is like a cancer slowly degrading the once sunny disposition of our school. Complaining, bickering- its constant. What were once smiles and waves are now down-trodden gaits and sighs of disappointment. It comes in waves I keep reminding myself. But it feels more like a surge this time.

When teachers attend meetings with administrators and their concerns are not addressed- or heard but not valued- it sets a tone. When administrators feel like they know more and set standards that conflict with teacher concerns and daily situations- it sets a tone. When clarity and consistency are only expected from teachers not administration- it sets a tone. The tone is vibrating a rhythm in defiance of  the norm. We feel it and our dander is tufted and our anxiety heightened. It is affecting morale, it is affecting discourse leading it into one of complaint rather than creativity.

Walk the walk and keep your head down- right? But when all you hear around you is negative- it takes its toll. When you feel ignored and undervalued it makes what you do meaningless in your mind and the apathy and complacency of others seeps in and entangles you. I do not like this one bit- but I am not sure how to escape the vibe. Even staying away from the deluge, it creeps in. My classroom is not air tight or a vacuum. The inevitable sneak attack is frequent.

I understand that there is a lot of pressure on administrations as well- but you must stop for a moment and listen. You must stop for a moment and observe the facial expressions and gaits of your faculty. We are all worn down and feeling a lot of anxiety. We need to be heard. I am worried about a mass exodus and it will only put more strain on me. So please reset the tone by not hollow words of encouragement but real change and listen to our concerns.

The Deep Leviathan: An Educational Journey

The caliginous space seemed scary at first. Misty and cloudy enough to create a sense of curiosity and adventure. But also, an opaqueness that caused me to feel around in the dark for a tether. It was new, this path. Gravel at first poking through the soles of my experience. Thorny shrubbery scratching with their abrasive reach. Strong enough to be a blatant reminder that I was walking in unfamiliar territory. Hushed and quiet for moments to lure and lull. Then bustling with leviathan and mammoth- rising from the deep. The slosh of the impending splash, rising with every step.

My eagerness was swallowed temporarily by tumultuous chaos. Swirling and undulating like the heartbeat of a large sea monster. Those insecurities of change and expectation: They lurk, they hunt, they devour. Tentacles binding. But great divers, they come prepared. Full tank, tight mask, sleek suit of protection. They venture into open waters where the space, location, and scenery are familiar, yet not. This new territory, unforgiving yet somehow welcoming. It is stitched into our fabric- like algae covering the surface. Taking in the sun for nourishment, all the while, creating a caliginous layer of twilight. Both magnificent and desolate.

This is my high seas. I have laid anchor here. The deck inundated with the waves. The salty brine tickling my nose. I, a teacher do not surrender to its impatience- I take my stance. I know the crest will come and the swells will jostle me about the current. It always does, this navigational drama. Yet, through the upsurge I go. At times my ship takes on water, it feels as if it will capsize. The vibrations of twirl and twist can be discombobulating, up is down and right is left. Corkscrew and curl knock me down. But I catch my breath, I manage to steer clear of the rocky peninsula. 

Sometimes landfall is to be avoided because the tricks of the trade are found far from shore. The comfort of the solid can obscure the imbalance, and from this billow and breaker of hesitancy and doubt, comes creativity and endurance. From this ridge and heave and foamy view- comes those moments of settling in, building resilience and strengthening confidence. I know this better than anyone. My dyslexia and autism the leviathan and mammoth that swim around me. They both navigate me into the storm and away from it. I keep them lower case, blended into my nature. 

The tidal spirits of my personality. They are indelible. Stirring up every demon that I have ever encountered and empowering me to track them- never attack them or endanger them, emboldening me to feed them, nurture them, welcome them to rise from the depths and splash me with insecurity. Because this tsunami of fear has trained me to be a great swimmer. A cautious yet brave diver. A problem-solver. But, these leviathan and mammoths also tire me. They drift me to a safe haven far from prying eyes. An island of refuge. My isolation brings me comfort. I can lie in the sun and rejuvenate. I can seek the mist and shadows. I can find strategies to cope and strive. 

Teaching is all of these things. Deep sea, with scary creatures and a darkness heavy and sullen. Open seas, bouncing and jostling awake within you such a beautiful frame of mind to remind you why you chose this journey. The shallow shorelines where you are protected from predators and feel safe to tiptoe into the sandy muck. But it is also the high seas, too vast to traverse alone. Yet, we hunker down on our ships, built from experience and wonder- and we try. Every day we try. This is why we reach out to other fellow oceanographers, cartographers and even yes, pirates. Because we know the knowledge gained will be the anchor.

These past months I have had many a changes in my professional career. I have changed from being a middle school teacher to a high school teacher. I moved from a classroom surrounded by visitors and friends to a hallway of strangers. Brief conversations but still closed doors. I am teaching new science topics, learning new things everyday- which I love. I am a mentor to another teacher. I am a peer mentor to students. I am raising my anchor so that I can maneuver into new unchartered waters. And as exciting as the unknown is- my leviathan and mammoths are heavy. They are never too far off the stern.

I am a word smith, writer, scribbler of prose- yet for months I have had nothing to say. I have not written a word for months. Yet, this caliginous morning- rainy and windy with a hint of crackly energy- I found my voice. Both poetic as always but with a hint of reporter. I, a journalist of sorts, seafarer and navigator. With a briny disposition. But more an orator of the mystical and magical use of words. I tend to write with imagery rather than realism. This is because this is how my dyslexia and autism report the world to me. My mind not one of literal but of the whimsical.

So this takes me back to the premise of this blog- the deep leviathan, the often overwhelming, isolating, stressful world of education. It can feel as if we are floating in the tumultuous open seas, sea creatures nipping from the dark. It can feel like we have sunk to the dark depths of the ocean- angler fish our only source of luminescence- and these angler fish have sharp teeth. It can feel as if we are trying to steer our ship, jostling and surging in the storm full circle back into the chaos- and we are. Because we are captain and divers. Navigators and swimmers. We swim. We dive. We map out our route to calm seas. But as we are going through the tsunami- we sometimes lose sight of the rebirth that happens once we make it through.

I have been in school for three weeks. Six classes- 4 completely different topics in science. We call them flavors. It takes a lot of planning, implementing and patience. It takes a lot of diving, swimming and navigating. But, I have a sturdy bow. As I look over into the murky waves, I see my leviathan and mammoth sea creatures: tails rising and disappearing, bodies rolling and diving and I feel comfort in knowing they are there. They, the resilience, endurance and faith I have in my skill set to weather the anxiety and joy of what I do. I hope my voice has risen from the depths and has returned. For months a silent mermaid now an aquatic scribe.

I hope you find your voice, your leviathan and mammoth sea monsters to keep you a float and in the center of the storm to come. For education is a storm even on the best of days. It is a beautiful, fulfilling and arduous place to find yourself in. It is exciting and remarkable but also exhausting, frustrating and down right scary like the ocean itself. Just remember to look up once in awhile and notice the mist, the cloudy yet spectacular caliginous skies of teaching. Stay buoyant my friends and have a great school year.

 

At Least, If Only

It's a strange time, so many public events are out of our control. Grocery shopping, doctors office visits, teaching. Devastating events are now daily occurrences. Reminders of our fragility. Reminders to be cautious. We can't prepare- not really. We can discuss and be proactive. We can be observant. But, in the end, we can only stay vigilant. For the wave of angst, unhappiness and violence can occur anywhere.

These days I always seem to be looking out for calamity. Checking the lock on my classroom door. Listening for any weird noises in the hallways. Watching reactions and behaviors of those near me. I want to stay positive and trust strangers, but I have found, I just don't anymore. I took for granted that people are inherently good. This is not to say that most people are not good people- for I know this to be true. 

But, I used to walk around, believing those around me were. I never really felt unsafe. Now that I am more observant I see the rudeness in behaviors. I hear the outbursts and temper tantrums that I used to walk away from. They are all more frequent now and more brazen. The energy is heavy.

I have always scanned the fuselage upon getting on an airplane and counted the rows back and front to the emergency exits. I have always paused at a red light in anticipation of the speedy traveler late for work. But these days, I have found myself scanning and pausing more- and I am more focused on those around me. Scanning the aisle at the grocery store, looking at exterior doors making sure they aren't propped open. I find I am avoiding large venues and crowds- not because of Covid 19, but because of the heaviness in the air. I prefer to be home these days, more than usual.

At least and if only. Two regrets we carry around with us. Shaping our decisions based on past experiences. 

I do not want to carry these around after my safety or the safety of my students, family or friends was put front and center. I want to use them as a defense- reminding myself to stay vigilant. I still go out. Not necessarily to the movie theater- a dark room, strangers. But I do shop and I am teaching summer school for a week. I am not homebound. But I do weigh things a lot more. I make choices I would not have considered before. I find myself erring on the side of caution. This is good, as long as I don't let it keep me from doing things, enjoying life.

I have a mind full of caution. I envision calamity and try desperately to avoid it. But, I know ultimately I can not prevent it. I can plan, be observant, take all precautions- but when and where devastation occurs is not in my control. The uneasiness is hefty some days but I push through it. I smile and have fun. I interact and live my life. I am coping, but it is a daily struggle sometimes to focus on more positive things.

Most people would not know this weary is circling me. Most days feel normal- in the sense I am doing what I usually do. I am out in the world as I have always been. I think most of us are all surrounded by this pause, this scanning impulse. I think it has had me in dark places as of late- fearful and hesitant. I am writing about it now, after months of not writing because I think I need to disperse the energy. It feels like a release of sorts- in order to allow me to focus on other things.

I am sending everyone out there feeling the same heaviness- a hug. I hope you all stay safe. That you enjoy your summer. That you listen to your instincts and stay active and aware.

Thank you for reading this blog, my first in months and hopefully the first of a new flow of energy, a new zone of words that I can articulate in a post. 

I am now teaching high school, same school -a new adventure. I hope to have new insights into moving from middle school to high school to share. I am helping with peer mediation and leadership now at my school, as well, and I hope to share my stories with this new experience as well. So new insights, new adventures are upon me. 

I have felt quiet lately, stifled. Like I really didn't have anything of interest to share. But now my voice, my stories are finding the letters, words and images necessary to make sense. They are finding sentences and paragraphs- thank goodness. I am feeling more articulate. So more blogs to come my friends.

Circumnavigation: Nudges and Shoves

This is dedicated to everyone who feels overwhelmed, exhausted and a bit off kilter. Does this sound familiar? If so, deep breath and take time, as much time as you need.  Convalesce and retreat when needed. Jump in full throttle when you feel up to it. You be you my friend.

The Laden

A tickle, an itch, almost a dull ache- it hummed deep inside. At times a nudge. At times a shove. Reminder imminent, always imminent. Today, I start to type, slowly an idea comes to fruition and letters combine into words, words into sentences, etc. 

Writing has always been a release for me, a catharsis, rebirth. But for weeks I’ve been blinded by concern, responsibility, and plain ol’ doubt and hesitancy. 

I guess even the tap on the shoulder from my inner wordsmith, couldn’t harness me from my mental wandering. I observed, listened and documented. Being a documentarian rather than a writer. Nothing above the fold.

I scribbled, scripted and reported in my journal. Notes more definitional than expository. I just didn’t feel the passion I usually do for prose. Too many ideas floating, circling the drain and just as I noticed them- they swirled away. 

News reports and gas prices, wars and fires- they pulled my focus from the expressive reflection. Like the ideas that have been ebbing and flowing, searching and undulating, I was floating between self-reflection and apprehension. I have been circumnavigating calm, focused thoughts. 

Nothing specific. If someone asked me “Why so glum?” I wouldn’t have an answer. There is no pinpoint, no determinate. I am simply hovering, board stiff, air thick- waiting for solid ground. Am I sad, no. Am I anxious or melancholy, no. It is a strange, grainy malaise that can’t seem to dissipate. 

It is chilly and prickly, like the dense fog of my favorite city. A scoop of gloom, minus the doleful pensivity. Just a tickle, itch, dull-ache that hums deep inside. Today the nudge became a shove. Reminder befallen. Keys clicking- I write.

This morning amidst the traffic laden pathways of my creativity, it appeared. A bypass. My inner compass started to twirl and I skirted the befuddle and addle, finally immersing beneath the clouds into sunshine. 

A landscape not envisioned for these last few months. The sharpness and precision were breathtaking. This morning, sitting in my classroom, watching my students collaborate and engage- created a platform for my mind to readjust and reorient. 

The Rejig

When clarity arrives it can be with confetti and cheers, or it can creep in like a warm draft. Mine tiptoed in like a long lost thought. A collision of consciousness and cynosure. Suddenly it was here, wriggling and empowered. 

It felt entitled, accustomed to being front and center. I’ll admit it felt a bit betrayed, abandoned. So it took a few minutes to make it feel welcomed. Then it made known its habitual stance, redirecting my frame of mind into an overdrive, very much missed. 

The hazy interference, static popping and echo waned. 

My diversion abated, I was now able to see the little things I’ve been missing in my day to day routine- curiosity, eagerness and hope. Past tense switched to present tense. A simplicity of certainty. 

I now see the shapes and flexibility of interaction. I hear the conversations around me- and for the first time in a long time- I want to converse. 

I want to schmooze and I am not a conversationalist. Words emerge both verbally and calligraphy.

I tend to stay in my own head, but with the cobwebs, free and clear and the spring flowers blooming, I am unexpectedly sprightly. Positivity snuck in alongside my clarity. Approach unnoticed at first. It feels good.

The draft became a gust- bringing a smile to my face. Students giggling, making stop-motion videos. Drawing stories on whiteboards- their creativity blossoming. It reminds me that optimism is apace with uncertainty. Resiliency is closeby. Hope, in and of itself, is resilient, even when we ignore its tug.

Shamble, straggle and stumble. Emotions cause some to vent in unpredictable ways. Overt frustration, or quiet discontent is rampant. It is heavy in the air, and unfortunately it is expanding. It is condensing, forming the misty disillusionment most of us feel in the background. 

The white noise that follows us. The nudge, the itch, the tickle in our throat, reminding us that the dust is still settling. Not sadness or melancholy- just a sandy film. Yet, it can cover our path, leading us deeper into the duster. 

The cloudiness is temporary, if we listen carefully, we can avoid the quicksand.

There is hope found in isolation. Beneath the grains, abrasion. Leaving behind a fresh layer of insight. It feels discombobulating while the granules are blinding, but after the funnel, after the dust devil settles- the clarity can be heard, knocking on the door. 

The itch, the tickle, the ache slowly subsided for me. Hope has entered and movement regained. Sand castles and buckets. Sunshine and beach towels bright with springtime color. The once monotone field of view has begun to go Kodachrome. Hue, glow and aspect not creeping in like a warm draft, but exploding with confetti and cheer.

If recent times have taught me anything, they have taught me to embrace the dust devils and sudden blindness. To blink. To rest. To rejuvenate and convalesce. To get outdoors, to get away, to read and relax. To not take on the weight of the world. To not bury myself in the sand for too long.

It has also taught me that waiting for inspiration is allowed. 

Also, expectations are generally laid upon us by ourselves. That mental health is as important as physical well-being. It is a time frame unique to each of us. Positivity and optimism is not a law. We are not required to be happy all the time. Respectful, yes. Growth-oriented and motivated, hopefully. 

But, we all need a break, when we need a break. So take it.

For after a respite, you just might find eagerness, hope and resilience have always accompanied you down your individual path. Let the draft enter with a gentle creep, or a cheerful, confetti filled celebration. But welcome it when it feels like the right time. But also, approve the down-time. The quiet, withdrawn vacation space for mental rejuvenation.

I wish you time to find your positivity and optimism. But also the time to feel negative and melancholy. For both are so intertwined in our navigation. Trying to circumnavigate either is not healthy. Embrace your emotions. They hold your truth.

I wish you physical and mental health, however they feel and materialize for you. You are brave, tenacious and beautiful- you be you. 

Pi Day

It is amazing how much notoriety a number has. An infamous number, Pi. Like May the 4th behind it as the Star Wars festivity. We love to celebrate. We wear green, drink Margarita's and dress in full regalia. We paint eggs, adorn trees with colorful lights and watch the darkened skies for vibrant, explosions of independence. We send hearts to loved ones, baskets of flowers to mothers and ties to fathers. We even celebrate our teachers, assistants and grand parents. All deserving of gratitude of course.

Why do we celebrate all of the above- we need something to tie us together. Commonality. Inclusion and connectedness.

We celebrate cookies, sausage, pets and donuts. If we created it or found it- we celebrate it. National this or that day. International this or that day. It is crazy. But we humans like to celebrate. To feel proud, happy and energetic. I for one am all about the little celebrations- we need them as of late. I celebrate finding my keys, making it to work on time, my coffee in the morning. I celebrate finishing a blog posts, getting a great evaluation. I celebrate student success, lessons that went well and the end of the day.

But I celebrate just as much beginning a new day- waking up and seeing my family. Petting my over affectionate cats. Listening to great tunes.

and for this I celebrate. This realization that celebration is a glue. The confetti. The warm hot tea. The calm on a Sunday.

Sunday Calm

Sunrise creeps, indeed it does

Over peaks and snow capped tips

It says peek-a-boo this cold March day

Luring the sleepy into wake

It whispered with fog and mist

Cold and damp

Keeping us inside

There is a calm, a sense of solitude

Sunday is not about hustle

but retreat

into a book

listening only to the purr

of cat contentment

waving back at the stretching rays

of spring 

The Benefits of Cycling Students

Coming from a public school setting with 30-32 students in a classroom, trying to stay afloat, learning names was challenging but once you did- you knew these students all year. They stayed in your classroom growing and changing and by the end of the year- you got to see such a transformation. It was awesome.

These days at a charter school, things are different. Every 4 weeks high school changes term and every 8 weeks middle school changes quarters. So a new set of names (15-18) for five classes occurs more frequently. But, this year, my first in this style of organization- I have gotten many students multiple times. Along side many new students.

I miss the atmosphere of a year long course, but I value this style- flavors and choice, more like college. I value the pace, the variety of science topics/curriculum I get to teach. Biology, physics, astronomy etc. I appreciate the opportunity to get to know 6th graders, 7th graders and 8th-9th graders. The juxtaposition of energy of 6th graders and high schoolers.

Having both middle and high in a week week term makes things interesting. I really enjoy the small class sizes and cycling of students. Giving them choice of classes makes a difference- they feel like they have a voice and this is important. It creates buy in and interest. I might be losing out on the long-term relationships over 9 months- but in exchange- I have the opportunity of meeting so many students in our 900 student campus.

This is rewarding.