I, Joy Kirr, am a middle school teacher, author, and speaker. My 7th grade ELA (English Language Arts) classes are working to improve their lives through student-directed learning - without marks throughout the year. This is a log of my learning experiences... Want to have me speak with your staff or facilitate a workshop? Here is my PORTFOLIO.

Saturday, September 11, 2021

9/11 - Twenty Years Later

I teach seventh graders. Every year my coworker and I decide to read "The Names" by Billy Collins with students. They read it on their own, stop and jot down which words from the poem make them think (and what they think), and then we read it again, aloud, doing the same. They turn and talk about their notes, then share with the class. As they're sharing, some of their confusion is alleviated, some experience "aha" moments, and others still don't really get the gist of the poem.

Here are some quips I heard this year at this point in the lesson:

  • I don't get the names. What are they for?
  • Are they for people who died?
  • Does he know these people, since he grew up in New York?
  • Why are names "written in the sky"? Where?
  • Why does he count 26 willows?
  • I think it's for the alphabet - he follows the alphabet!
  • But didn't a lot more people die?
  • He sees them everywhere - because of the memorials?
  • It sounds kind of sad in some spots.
  • I'm not sad about it. It didn't affect me or my family.

Then we share this video:


More from the students:
  • I thought the sounds at the beginning were funny, until I realized what was happening.
  • That was so sad.
  • When they added that girl talking about her father, that had a big impact.
  • The music itself was sad.
  • I saw my grandpa's picture and his name in the video.
  • I'm still not sad about it, but I am sad for the people who lost someone.
  • Did the people in the planes know what was happening?
  • They must have planned a lot for this.
  • Were the terrorists the pilots?
  • I saw a big list of firefighters.
  • My family had a tough time because they had to defend themselves against people who thought it was Muslims who attacked. People who follow Islam reject terrorism. My grandparents and parents had to teach others about Islam.
And I feel old. I feel old because the students in front of me (not on a screen - yippee!!) know less and less about this day. I feel old because our troops have been in Afghanistan for almost twenty years.

I remind myself that some seventh graders are at such different levels of maturity. Some are curious. Some are empathetic. Some are tired. Some are all of these things combined. Seventh grade - a sweet spot, for sure, and also such a tough age. Overall, I'm proud of their discussions today, and I'm hopeful they'll learn a lot this coming school year - about oh-so-much.

Sunday, September 5, 2021

Shifting Grades Once Again

I was so very excited... I hadn't felt this way in over a year... We were ten days into the school year, and I was finally going to tell my students about our grading (or lack thereof). After a year of going back to grades, this felt so refreshing! 

First we talked about who liked grades and why, who didn't like grades and why, the unfairness of averages, late work, how the words "extra credit" make me want to puke, and then we talked about the goal of school (to learn! to improve!). I showed a video of how they can see their progress in the online grade book (how they can view the narrative or video feedback). And I left it with, "If you think this is not for you, and you go home and share with your parents, you can always let me know you'd like the computer to figure your grades for you, no problem."

I've already had to repeat a few things... No, your grade won't go down because you didn't turn it in yet - just turn it in, so I can provide feedback. No, the grade book won't have a grade until we chat and decide on one the last week of the quarter. This isn't worth ANY points - we're working on this, this, and this...

And I LOVE it. The language is shifting already. Students are still doing the work, because our lessons are useful and will help them learn and improve.

Here is some feedback from my seventh graders (I didn't get any negative ones yet!):




My teaching heart is full once again. #ShiftThis!

Saturday, August 21, 2021

Lessons I'm Using

This blog... it's been all over the place. It's true to it's name, however, for I am CONSTANTLY learning. Life has offered up many challenges and time for reflection and then time to put to use what I'm learning.

My first week of the 2021-2022 (2022?!) school year is finished. We had three days with staff only and two days with hallways jam-packed with students. I'm tired, and I'm happy.

Usually when I think I "learn" something, I go ahead and make that same mistake again. I kick myself in the pants and get frustrated that I didn't actually "learn" that lesson. For my first sixty days with students, I'll be sharing #LessonsLearnedDuringPandemicTeaching via Twitter - one per day. I know I'm going to make more mistakes, but I think I may have actually learned these things I've done each day this past (first) week...

Five Lessons Learned that I'm Actually Using:

Stay hydrated - I drank all the water in my huge water bottle!

Don't use time to complain - I don't think I complained about anything. At one point, I sympathized with another teacher (or group? I can't remember), but I didn't add my own two cents. Instead, I shared what I liked about the new situation.

I can't help in some situations, and I have to be okay with that - This lesson was brought home by Mandy Froehlich in one of her presentations or articles shared awhile back. Last year, I let everyone else's stress become mine. My stress hangs out in my shoulders, then leads to migraines that made teaching more difficult than it already is. This year, I listen, maybe ask a question, then note in my mind that this is not for me to fix. If I think of something that can help, I'll share, but many people just want an ear that listens. I can do that, and then I can move on to what is important in my own life. I haven't needed pain medication yet this year.

Be Present - I know some people balk at the "Teach Like a Pirate" gig Dave Burgess has going on. I don't think they've read the book or heard him speak. (I wouldn't have asked the Burgesses to publish my own books if I didn't believe in the message.) The "I" in his pirate acronym is for "Immersion." When I read the book, that was the one lesson I thought I took away from it. I knew I'd have to be my best in EVERY class, not just the classes before lunch. I just had to immerse myself in the moments. I'd gotten away from this lesson, however, and now I'm back! I need to immerse myself in every moment. Be present in every moment. Good or bad, happy or sad, I need to LIVE it. This past week, I didn't multitask. I gave my full attention to what was going on around me. I soaked it in. It was good for me.

Go slow / Take things as they come - There were a couple of times I wanted to tell the kids something else that was related to something we were sharing, but I let it be. The kids dictated what came next, and I was still able to share that bit of information, just at a later time. Another time, a student came to me asking about his locker right when the starting bell rang for class. I used to stress about these things. Instead, I followed him to his locker. It took me less than a minute to help, and when I got back to the room, no one had hurt themselves - or anyone else. So far, so good.

I don't regret anything I did or said this week. The start of this school year, masked, full classes and hallways, has been just dandy. I'm looking forward to putting more lessons to work for me in my 27th year of teaching!

Sunday, August 15, 2021

Documenting the Trauma So I Can Move Forward Once Again

I spent two days with retired teachers (of 20 years!), and they asked questions about last school year. All the angst appeared again. All summer, I've vacillated between wanting to write it all out - to get it out - and never wanting to speak of it again.

This is not a typical post of mine. We went to see family in Michigan, and we talked a TON. It refreshed the idea in my mind that I needed to document more from this past school year, now that I have one week left before the new one begins. I had pushed to the back of my mind some of the things they asked about, and the trauma of it came back again.

Hubby's sister and brother-in-law have been retired for about twenty years now. They didn't even know what a rubric was when I met them twelve years ago, so to try to explain to them about all the crud we went through last year was a hefty task. All summer I've wondered about writing down some snippets. I've decided I should, for a couple of reasons. 1) I feel it needs to be documented, or people may forget. I don't want the past year to be washed away like it was nothing. 2) I think it will help me move forward into this year, knowing all we did last year. Knowing (??) it can't be worse than last year... right?!? 

So... in no particular order, I'm going to put the negatives first and the positives at the end.

Memories I've pushed to the back of my brain:

First week of school (first week of September - latest we've started in years)... All I set up for the year was what was going to be seen behind me in my screen. "I'm here for you," "Black Lives Matter," my LGBTQ ally flag... later I added their photos - on a big house (chart paper) and on an E, L, and A for my three ELA classes. I had a standing desk of sorts, and I played music when they came into the Zoom, greeting each student by name. Once attendance and my "show" were done, I waved like crazy to say goodbye, and ended the Zoom. Cried. Opened another Zoom. We had "typical" days - classes straight through - via Zoom - just like the community wanted. I smiled and sang and was encouraging (according to one student), and I cried each time I ended a Zoom. During team time, at least one of us was crying each day. We couldn't hug each other. We couldn't eat without shields in front of us. On that Friday, at home, I bawled my eyes out and crawled up into a ball, thinking that the past week was worse than my divorce. 

Into the year, kids stopped showing up to Zoom. Others would show up, but not be there when we called on them, or asked for them in the chat. A few would be there, cameras on, nodding at times, and we could see the videos being played on their computer reflected on their faces. Those few didn't answer us when we talked to them either. Two students left the district, even though we'd had myriad meetings as to how we (and parents) could help them succeed better. Rooms were quiet. Hallways were quiet. Teachers were in their rooms putting on shows so we could compete with movies and YouTube and texting. I tried different places in the room, but it always felt wrong. Staying in one place for 80 min at a time really wore on me and my body.

Hybrid came. I had my six feet of space at the front of the room, but who was I kidding? I wasn't moving around the room except to spray the tables at the end of each class. I was tethered to the laptop, as that's where more than half of my students were. I learned how to project the students at home on the screen, spotlight my document camera or a student who was sharing, use my camera for kids at home to see me or to see the kids in the classroom, to show this but not that, to have two screens so I can see the kids at home and what I wanted to share with everyone... I became a master at technology. And I didn't cry when it all quit on me. I just breathed, and restarted, hoping we didn't lose anyone and hoping the kids behaved on Zoom while I was kicked out.

I remember being grilled when one staff member tested positive and was home sick. Why did I feel as if I'd done something wrong? I didn't get sent home to quarantine, because I was scared of getting sick and followed the rules. I went home paranoid, and the next day was grilled by a coworker of mine - Why didn't I tell them she ate lunch with us, too? Blame was prevalent. Blame for miscommunication was the biggest. Communication was the worst it'd ever been in my time teaching. I had a student come to my first class one day, wondering where she sat. I had no clue she'd be coming in, and I had to call the office to be sure she was allowed to be there. Two students came in on the days they weren't supposed to, because their siblings in elementary school were in full time, so why weren't they? Kids were here in the AM, then sent home for whatever reasons in the PM. Attendance was "present," or "here but remote" or "absent," and we never knew who would be in front of us in the room and who would be on the computer, and who would skip a class or two.

It was tough to take mask breaks when we had the kids at home on Zoom, too. One of my classes had kids at home that wanted to be socializing in a breakout room during our mask break, but I never got the timing right, and they'd either be waiting for me or we'd be waiting for them. Of course, there was one who never wanted to come back in the school, so they'd drag their feet (and I had to stand at the door to be sure they got in and the door closed behind us).

I felt like I'd be wasting someone's time every class - either the at-home or in-the-building kids. If I had to explain something to the in-the-building kids, the at-home kids would be bored. After I gave directions, I'd have to adjust them a bit for the at-home kids, so the in-the-building kids would be waiting for me to help them, as they were ready to go. It really was teaching two classes at one time. I feel as if they all wanted (if not needed) my attention, as well.

Kids would use their phones to check the time. All the time. They were truly stuck like glue to them - in their backpacks or in their pockets.

I was more strict than I've ever been. I needed to be - for my own sanity. I didn't like it, but it worked better than not following through, and I was being fair, at least.

New worries / what's happening elsewhere:

Parents attacking staff over mask mandates ("Baffling" is a great word to describe this one.)

Why Does Your Child's Right to Unmask Usurp My Child's Right to a Safe School?

Anti-mask grown-ups obscure every lesson we ought to teach kids about a pandemic...

Texas and Georgia - teachers and students aren't ALLOWED to wear masks?!?!

I'll try to put these aside... Just teach to the best of my ability... Stay out of the drama of the school board meetings... Do what I'm expected to do... Care for the students.

Lovely memories:

My students surprised me with a "thank you" on Zoom on January 13th when we were all remote due to another "outbreak." All but four students were in on the text chain, and of course, I cried. 

When we were all remote, I learned to open breakout rooms for MORE than the number of students in class. That way, when I needed to cry or scream, I could go into my own breakout room (instead of being in the "main" room). Also, I could cry or scream or yell or whooop in the hallways during passing periods, due to no one being in the hall...

I could cry in my room at any time of the day, and no one would know. In a "typical" year, we have a very hard time finding a space all our own for any type of peace. Quiet was the norm this past year. I'm going to want some of that this next school year.

When the kids came to the school in person, I had to stop crying. That was actually helpful. I also learned to enjoy the moments as they came. Just to take my time and soak up all the craziness happening.

On our last fully-remote day, Sam (one of my students) had his dog howling for us once again. I loved seeing the kids so happy with their pets. Sometimes when I read aloud, some would sit there and pet their dogs or cats.

One time in May I opened the wrong Zoom (well, more than one time, but this is one specific story). I was waiting for the two kids at home. The office called and said one of the two were trying to get in. Three min or so into class, one of the two used the Jamboard (we were using Jamboard for our warm up fun questions) to tell me to "open the Zoom, please!" And that's how I knew I had opened the wrong one. Clever kids!

None of the kids ever "forgot" anything at their locker (and were gone for five minutes), because they used backpacks. That was sweet.

I only had to tell two students daily to keep their mask over their nose. Two - out of seventy-something. They knew it was a non-negotiable.

I got some of the sweetest letters at the end of the year. They've got a spot in my scrapbook, of course.

I. Learned. So. Much. Lessons I'm going to take forward into the last years of my teaching. Lessons that will help me enjoy teaching - and my home - even more. Year 27 begins for me tomorrow. Ready or not...

Sunday, July 18, 2021

Crafting Bookmarks

One of the ways I take care of myself is by making things. (One of my many "genius hour" projects!) This summer, it's bookmarks for my students. I have one I've used for years that I adore, and it's getting faded, so I wanted to make another for myself. Well... I'm not one to stop at just one. Or three. Or seven. Looks like I've made 70 this summer! Eeek! Since I often have about 70 students (not counting homeroom), that works for me. The cost to me is about 50 cents each. Making them makes me happy, and I can listen to a podcast or a book for each step. I thought I'd write a post to help others who'd like to do the same. I'll also be sharing this with my students, should they want to make their own. (If they bring me their own choice of ribbon, I'll make them for them - or better yet - with them! It's something else to look forward to in the upcoming school year.)

Step 1: Supplies / Purchases...

          Magnetic bookmarksHere are the ones I purchased - they were $8.99 when I bought them. Check the link for the size. You  might be able to do this with strips of magnet instead. Let me know what you buy if it works out for you. The bookmarks are fine all on their own, right? However, you'd have to move the magnet each time you stop reading. With a ribbon, you can simply keep the magnet in place on the last page of the book and flip the ribbon where you need it, without losing it.

          Ribbon - I went to JoAnn's and purchased two to get another for free. I'd also use my coupons to get ones that didn't fit the sales. Hint: Bring a magnet with you to see that it's the size you want. "Too narrow" and "too wide" kind of actually work, but I like the ones that are 5/8 in (15 mm). Most of the typical rolls are 9 ft (2.7 m) and can make six to seven bookmarks if you cut them without mistakes.

          Fabric Glue

          Scissors

          Template - I created two cardboard strips to help me cut the ribbon. One short one - 2 3/4 in (7 cm) and one long one - 13.25 in (34 cm). Sometimes I just used my original bookmark that I love (and why I wanted to create more), and cut the ribbon to that size.

          Working Surface - I use the kitchen table and about three paper towels folded over (so I don't get glue on the table).

Step 2: Prepare the bookmarks

          Take the sheen/decoration off the magnetic bookmarks, so the ribbon has some place to stick. I'm not really sure if you need to do this, but I'm pretty sure. I also don't think they'd look as good if you left the design on the magnet. Here's a time-lapse video of me doing this to seven of them. (I like the number seven, and sometimes I can get seven bookmarks out of one roll of 9 ft ribbon.) This took me as long as it takes for my husband to take a shower (I forgot to time it, but it happened to be when he took his shower, so)...

Step 3: Prepare the ribbon

          Use your template to cut two lengths for each bookmark. Cut one short one - 2 3/4 in (7 cm) and one long one - 13.25 in (34 cm). I cut all of the spool at one time, and I make as many bookmarks as I can out of that spool at the same time (six or seven). You'll use the short lengths first.

Step 4: Glue the short ribbon... wait... then glue the long ribbon

          Glue the short end flush on one side of the edge you just took the decoration off of, then wrap this piece of ribbon across the mid-point of the bookmark. These are tricky to keep glued on, so you'll have to find a way that works for you. Sometimes I lay them flat, sometimes I prop them up like a tent, and sometimes I do one side and then the other. Just as long as you make sure the bookmark can close once it's glued, and that it IS glued, you'll be set for the next step. Let these sit for two hours before moving on. (Waiting for the glue to dry is hard for me to do, but it helps me practice patience.)

          Once you're sure the short end is glued on well and the bookmark can close, glue the long end on from the other end. You only need a straight line for this one (no bend needed), so just lay them flat for the glue to dry. Wait.

I lay them out like this, so I know which way to glue them. You might notice some short lengths are longer than the others. Ooops! No worries. As long as the short ribbon goes over the middle of the bookmark a bit, it should be fine.

Step 5: How to use the bookmark... 

Step 6: Read!

I'm hoping this gets my seventh graders reading even more than they might. I found a clever way to display/store them in the classroom... $4 on sale at JoAnn's, and I made my own cover. I hope to have a student who wants to replace my cover with a better one:



Friday, June 25, 2021

Mental Health Lessons Learned from Books Read During Pandemic Teaching

 ...and in order to keep coming back to them, I'm writing them into one post.

These first three books I read prior to the pandemic. The lessons I remembered from them helped me during the pandemic.

Fewer Things, Better - 1) Check email only at one or two certain times per day. (This did NOT work during remote and hybrid teaching!) This goes for a TON of apps and websites, actually - it helps me be more present in each moment. 2) What do I want my legacy to be? Do that. 3) Who says you have to (insert job here - ex: send home weekly updates to parents)? Many of the rules I follow are my OWN. I probably don't even need to (insert job here - ex: this past school year I sent monthly updates to parents). What pressures have I put on myself that I can make easier for myself? My original reflection is HERE

The Zen Teacher - 1) Do one thing for myself every day. 2) Be present in the moments - the still and chaotic moments. 3) Declutter a part of your life - get rid of what you don't need and/or what you're not using. My original reflection is HERE

Teaching Well - 1) When we are the most overwhelmed with work is when we NEED to stop and take care of ourselves - put away the work, get some exercise, water and sleep, and experience a bit of your life outside the classroom walls. Psychologist Simone McCreary - "There is plenty of evidence that we do better in our career when we make self-care a priority... Regular physical activity activates our neuroplasticity, which increases our creativity and focus. Exercise rejuvenates our willpower" (16). 2) David Irvine - "Self-care is a responsibility. If we don't take care of ourselves, we eventually won't be able to carry the responsibility of caring for others" (18). There will always be work - the work for teachers does not end. My original reflection is HERE.   Another reflection on these first three books is HERE.


The next few books are in order of when I read them.

The Other Half of Happy by Barcarcel - "...we are all unfinished. And unfinished is fine."

Hearts Unbroken by Smith - "Every breath is a victory."

How to Disappear Completely by Standish - "...the battles we fight always change us. When we are fighting them, all we can see is how they wound us. But they can change us for the better, too."

Essentialism - The word "priority" was intended to be singular. What's my ONE priority? My health - mental and physical. Everything I decide to do (or not do) should be good for my health. My original reflection is HERE. 

The Canyon's Edge by Bowling- "Being alive means / sorrow, joy, pain, love, anger. / Feeling all the things."

Learned Optimism - 1) Being pessimistic can make me physically sick, as it actually lowers my immunity. Therefore, it's unhealthy to use my time ruminating on bad moments or situations. Know that what I'm going through (bad OR good) is temporary. 2) Have hope, and make practicing gratitude a habit. My original reflection is HERE. 

Strange the Dreamer by Taylor - "And that's how you go on. You lay laughter over the dark parts. The more dark parts, the more you have to laugh. With defiance, with abandon, with hysteria, any way you can."

Untamed by Doyle - I've felt this way before, and I'll feel this way again. Notice the feelings, feel them, and then consider, "What do I do next?" Act on it.

The Book of Joy - 1) I can only do so much. Although I can't change the world today, I can make a difference with one, two, or even more students EACH day. 2) Practice gratitude and compassion - I'm excited to find ways for my students to practice compassion, as well. My original reflection is HERE.

Efrén Divided by Cisneros - "Somehow, you just do what needs to be done... whether it's fair to you or not."



Sunday, June 20, 2021

What I'll Keep and What I Hope We Toss

I keep feeling the need to document my thoughts about this past year. I feel the need to make it into a HUGE learning opportunity. Sooo, not including things I normally do, such as music and a soft start at the beginning of each class...

Here's what I plan to toss, or things I hope go far, far away...

  • changing plans and schedules all year (see timeline in my blog post) ✔
  • spraying tables ✔
  • cheap toppling tray tables (kids call them ironing boards) ✔
  • individual tables facing front in rows
  • taking attendance online every class period
  • car parades for graduating students (if we're having graduations)
  • students at home and in person in each of our classes ✔
  • quarantined kids at home on Zoom (although this might be easier than them leaving for two weeks and coming back after having a "remote teacher...")  ✔
  • masks 🤞🏻

Here's what I hope to keep, or what I hope stays...

  • (Look through my self-help books for notes!!)
  • keep my physical and mental health my ONE priority
  • be fully present in each moment
  • drink a ton of water
  • three deep breaths with eyes closed when I'm upset
  • do not read work emails outside of work time (except for Sunday around dinner time)
  • one intention per week
  • listen more than I talk
  • routine
  • organized plans / easily found
  • digital absent folder ✔
  • free lunches for students ✔
  • virtual staff meetings
  • practice gratitude with my students
  • postcards sent to students' houses
  • small, mobile tables (instead of the big tables they took away)
  • no need for lockers - fewer disruptions and clean ups
  • me using the washroom during independent reading (if needed)
  • velcro dots on carpet
  • mood meter and / or Jamboard check in (on Mondays, especially)
  • asking students what they feel they need to discuss, then providing the time and space for them to do so (while I facilitate and keep my opinions to myself)
  • walks around the building when it's nice - walk and talk?
  • big chunks of plan time
  • when something bugs me, do not ruminate - act - do something for myself or others
  • my shield - to protect against parent ire

What I hope to do that I didn't get to do this year...

  • Establish expectations from the start. With the FIVE changes we had this past year, we didn't have time to establish them well.
  • Try some sort of genius hour or choice research project.
  • Keep a good attitude amongst staff and online (At least I did well in front of the students!)
  • Find ways to practice compassion with my students.
  • No grade in the grade book until the end of the term. I felt like such a hypocrite this year, even if it was probably easier on me and my students by using grades.

sounds like a plan

Here are some other posts I'd like to curate here for my own refreshers... what did other educators learn? I'll be adding more as I come across them:

Writing Teacher Melanie Meehan

What teachers have done this past year.

Look at All We've Gained During the Pandemic

5 Things I Liked About Pandemic Education (HS Student)

Why Remote Learning Would Have Been Perfect for Me

Friday, June 11, 2021

2020-2021 Digital Scrapbook

I really didn't think I'd do much professionally this school year... 

          except TEACH MY HEART OUT!

Before I start, I want to make a timeline of what my own personal school year PHYSICALLY looked like...

  • Summer had us "all in," until suddenly we were "all remote."
  • September 1 - we started all remote. Teachers taught from the school building unless they qualified for accommodations. (September 4 - I cried like I haven't cried since going through my divorce. I thought nothing could be worse than teaching students on a screen.)
  • October 19 - my grade (7th) came for hybrid. T/Th were kids with last names A-K. W/F were kids with last names L-Z. Mondays were remote for everyone, and the schedule was different, to allow for teachers to plan for this absolute madness. I found out that there IS something worse than teaching ONLY students on a screen. Kids were sometimes in the building, and sometimes not, and we really had no clue who would be in front of us and who would be at home. Getting attendance  right each period was vital, due to contact tracing, and it took a good five minutes (after spraying tables and getting kids into Zoom)...
  • December 2 at the end of the day - teachers at OUR school (just one of two middle and nine elementaries) were sent home due to the IDPH "strongly suggesting" we close the school because of the number of cases we'd had on the second floor.
  • December 8 we could teach from the building once again; all students were remote.
  • December 15 we were back to hybrid.
  • December 18 we were back to remote. (Yes. One day before winter break.)
  • January 19 we were back to hybrid. My planning partner/friend started an FML.
  • January 21 we were "all in" (with kids still on Zoom). Of course, it happened again. "All in" is at the discretion of parents who chose this option. My NEW planning partner suddenly had to teach remotely. This was the third hardest day of my school year.
  • January 26 I wrote a "glimpse in the day of a middle school teacher" to the school board - it was the next hardest day of my school year. Oh, and the sub had a sub. And I was writing sub plans AND going into school. Who knew it could get more difficult?
  • April 26th we were "all in" (with kids still on Zoom) EVERY day of the week. No more remote Mondays. No more "all in one place at least once a week." No more 1:1 conversations with kids. No more breakout rooms. No matter what I said, did, who I wrote, who I cried to. If my voice was heard, it was not valued.


JUNE
- Nada. Zip. Zilch.

AUGUST
- Um... all on my own, with tech teachers from my school and other teachers who'd tried it... I learned how to use a second monitor. I remember educators on Twitter saying once you use it, you can't go back, and now I know how that rings true!

SEPTEMBER
- I learned how to use an external camera, a document camera, and Apple AirPlay. I learned how to make magic using my hands and by growing an extra eye somehow to see the kids, the work, the direct messages, the emails, the GChat pop ups, etc.
- I learned how to keep work at work (really for the most part), so I can decompress and process the day at home.

DECEMBER
- #DitchSummit thanks to Matt Miller and sooooo many fabulous educators!

JANUARY
- I signed up for the Leading Equity Summit thanks to Sheldon L. Eakins and sooooo many fabulous presenters... but I never made it to the videos on time, due to the insurrection at the Capitol and my need to know what was happening. I made it last year, and I'll make it NEXT YEAR again, for sure.
- Doodle & Chat - 1/30/21 - the theme was "explore."
- Began (and continued until June) #UWIEquity Challenge (weekly)

FEBRUARY
- "The Year of You" one-hour workshop hosted by Jen Vincent / Story Exploratory. I wasn't brave. As soon as she said, "We're going to go into breakout rooms," I bolted. I'd be a terrible remote student.
- EdCamp Madison! One Zoom link for the entire day. Nice to be able to talk with educators going through the same things.
- Began (and still continuing) a @MoocTsl class through MIT - #TSLEquity

APRIL
- EdCamp Elmbrook! Again, nice to have people who understood each other. I hosted a gratitude session for us to write letters or emails.

June
- June 11th - our last day of this school year. I survived, and I was fortunate to be able to keep my family safe. I will learn from the scars. I was able to reach a couple of students in a couple of ways, and I enjoyed just being able to be me with the seventh graders the last few weeks.
- Completed the weekly #UWIEquity Challenge. 


LIFE LESSONS this school year:
  • I REALLY learned what I need to do in order to care for myself - mentally and physically. I hope I can call on these skills if/when life ever gets back to some semblance of "normal."
  • I learned how to SLOW DOWN.
  • I only have students for 80 min/day. I can only do so much. I'll simply try my best.
  • I will strive for smiles and conversations every day.

Teagan (student who painted this) said, "That's YOU!" 


Sunday, May 30, 2021

The Book of Joy


This book is my latest opportunity to learn about how to have better mental health during this time of teaching in a pandemic.

My personal notes from this book are here.

What are my key take-aways?

Life is full of struggle. Make of it what you can. Do your part. Enjoy the journey by being present in each moment; experience it all fully.

Gratitude & Compassion - these will get you far.

I make a practice of #ThankfulThursdays with my students; I'm going to find a way for us to practice compassion once a week, as well! We need more compassion in this world, and it starts with us.

Sunday, May 9, 2021

I'm not giving them my best. Or... I AM giving them my best.

 *Note: This post is simply for my own documentation. It will not inspire readers. 


One of my students, Zoe, asked me what the white cubbies (that are currently on the floor) are used for. I explained that they used to be on the desk, and they used to hold our binders. When students came in the door, they grabbed their binder, then sat down. When they left, they put their binders back in the cubbies. I had just purchased this item from IKEA the February before we went into lockdown last year.

"You had that on you DESK?" Zoe asked.

"Yes. I never sat at my desk. It was the student station." I explained that the desk was for student supplies, such as markers, rubber bands, paperclips, the stapler, the hole puncher, tape, decorations for the room, envelopes, tools, bandages, needle & thread... anything a student or another teacher might need. And students could sit there. I never sat there. I moved around the room. I taught from all over the room.

"Oh," is all she replied, as it seemed to sink in.

The students in front of me - and those on my screen - don't know how I normally teach. They don't know that I hate sitting in a chair all day. They don't know that I used to have 1:1 conversations with my students each day - about their book, about their writing, about their participation, about their behavior, about how proud I am of them, about how I noticed their new shoes, etc. I'm tethered to the laptop. I feel as if I cannot leave my remote students, or I will lose them completely.

I am not the teacher I have been in the past. I'm not giving them my best. Because I cannot. It is physically impossible with the hand we've been given. I have to accept this. Some days I can; some days I'm full of anguish.

This year has been full of realizations. And I've learned so very much.

Just this April, I've realized students have had their earbuds in - during class. One of my students - who is doing fine in class - had to take out an earbud when I walked by and asked a question. I asked, "What are you listening to?" The response? "My music." I kept walking. This is not a fight I'm willing to put my energy into this school year. Students probably spent their remote time listening to their music (and many were playing games, too).

In March, I started seeing students who pulled down their mask to talk. How had I not seen this before? And then, in April, I started seeing the earbuds. How had I not seen this before? This year - I cannot see as well as I could in the past. I cannot hear as well as I could in the past. (The masks - oh, the masks!) Those not teaching don't understand this phenomenon. I do now. I know I've been blind and deaf to so much, because my mind and body can only handle so much. My brain was at capacity. I'm just now starting to be able to see and hear and DO more.

This is temporary. It's not my best teaching by far.  Yet I AM giving them my best - my best for now. Heck, we're in a pandemic. My hands have been tied for so many things. We're feeling the consequences of the rules we've been given. We're feeling the consequences of having to teach two classes each period. We're feeling the consequences of having to do two jobs at once - without any extra plan time or time with our colleagues. No wonder the kids aren't doing THEIR best. 

Happy Teacher Appreciation Week from one worn out teacher who is not feeling appreciated. I keep telling myself - this IS temporary.

Sunday, April 25, 2021

How are the optimists doing?

Note: This post starts off on a dour note, but it's my intention to write this to help educators through this year. If you keep reading until the end, you may stand a bit taller in the coming weeks. This post is for US.

I heard from a teacher friend as our week ended that I am "a barometer of the school" of sorts. I took it to mean, "If Joy isn't good, what does that mean for me?" I heard whispers of this in January, as well, from another colleague. It took me about a month to recover from January's events. That's when I took the time to write about how I turned the corner - again. We had another blow to our staff this past month, as we thought we were going to continue with one thing that's been working all year, and it was suddenly pulled out from under our feet. I wonder if those that make the decisions realize that if the staff does not do well, the students feel the effects, if not directly. I wonder if they know that with each new decision, teachers need to switch up so much of what they'd planned on doing. Again. And it's no simple matter. And we worry about ALL of our students. And it changes how we teach, not for the better this year. (And PLEASE stop saying, "Our teachers are so flexible.")

So... educators around me are struggling once again, with the newest demand put upon us before this pandemic school year closes. How do I help colleagues? Some have said that it's not my job, and that's true. When I have a colleague who reaches out and says, "Joy, how are YOU holding up?" I feel I need to tell them what I'm doing to keep one arm out of the swamp that is this school year. And now that I'm documenting it one time, I can refer others to what (sometimes) works for me. At the start of this school year, I read Essentialism by Greg McKeown, and since then, I've had ONE priority: My health (mental and physical). Everything I do this year revolves around this. Taking the time to write, organize, and share this post helps me with my mental health, for sure. I truly hopes it helps readers, as well.

-------------------------

I listen. A few tears may collect for both of us. They need to know it's okay to share and cry.

I'm honest. I share that this year is the toughest one I've ever had, too. That I'm also worried about our kids that are remote (and don't respond to invites to participate, emails, or even me staring into the camera calling their name). That I, too, am not able to do all I want with the in-person students who are constantly seeking our attention. That I, too, cannot control students on their games, when they get closer than the three feet the desks are at, or when they complain about the game I chose. I agree that it feels as if hardly any of my plans go well, and the lessons are not as impactful as in the past. I let them know that I, too, see that some come to school to learn, but many students this year come to school just to be around other kids. And I, too, sometimes just let them ... be. That sometimes our mask breaks are a little over the four-minute passing period time. That when I do just let them BE, some classes can't handle it - they get loud and rowdy and obnoxious and forget we're in a pandemic, and I have to backtrack. That some days I feel that nothing went well, and I failed my students.

I've also shared that I'm stricter in some instances - and I say "no" without explanation sometimes. Sometimes I let students know I'm doing something (like playing this particular song) for ME. Sometimes I sit in the hallway (in the middle of classtime) with an upset student who ends up crying and then regrouping. Sometimes I leave the class reading independently - just so I can run to the restroom. Yup. I'm not doing what I've done in the past. And I let my colleagues know that I believe it's okay. No one knows how to do this job better than us this year. We're doing the best we can with what we have. We need to take care of ourselves before we can care for the myriad students that flow in and out of our door each day.

It took me most of this school year, but I am now resigned to the fact that it's okay for me to not be the teacher I've been working so hard to become. This is due to at least these three reasons: 

  1. I'm not the same person I was pre-COVID. I realized last April that I needed to stop worrying about "my kids," because they really are NOT my kids. Some have one parent, some have two, and some even have four. It's the same now. The parent is the first in line to help our students. I only have my students for 80 minutes a day. It's not all on ME. I am NOT the parent. I canNOT do everything.
  2. Teachers have been put into circumstances they never imagined would happen. No one could prepare us for this. Changes come quickly, and we're expected to adapt just as quickly. And we step up and try our best. But... we feel it in our hearts, our minds, and our bodies. We feel it's not enough. The fact is, we're giving it ALL we've got. So it has to be enough. 
  3. We're not in control of what's been put on us. When it feels as if nothing we do or say matters, we get knocked down. Again. And again. It's like an abusive relationship. And we stay in it, because we still love the children.
So it's okay to be where we are. Dejected. Demoralized. Defeated. Knowing this, I know the small wins are all I'm going to get this school year. Once I realized this fact that it's okay to not be a great teacher, I have noticed small wins each day. Just this Friday, I had at least one (pretty big in my eyes) win in each class! I've looked harder for them, stopped to pause during them, and recognized them for what they are. I then take it a step further and thank that student or share what I noticed with the class. It's a pause in my day that helps me feel my teacher heart beating a bit once again.

I'm also learning - a lot. Learning is one of my passions, whether it be on Duolingo, practicing the banjo, or simply reading nonfiction. This means I'm doing something that makes me feel more fulfilled. The most recent bit of learning I've been doing is from the book Learned Optimism: How to Change Your Mind and Your Life by Martin E. P. Seligman. At heart, I'm an optimist. I know this. Yet when I took the test in the book, the results came out as "moderately pessimistic." !! I keep reading, and I see that maybe I picked up this book for a reason. Maybe it's because right now is a "time of crisis." My score on the "hope" portion was solid, however, and the author says that's very important - that means I can learn optimism more readily. Reading further, according to the next step, I may be "moderately depressed." Depression can come and go, so he said if I felt this was wrong, to take it again in two weeks. (Um... maybe not. Two weeks from when I took it would be tomorrow, and tomorrow is our first Monday not being fully remote. It's gonna be one heck of a week.) The major cause of depression --> "the belief that your actions will be futile." This is what educators are believing / feeling.

This learning moves me forward. 

I tried out their theories of thinking... Optimistic educators would think, "This is temporary. Not permanent." (Permanence) "This is only for my job (career/passion!), not my home life." (Pervasiveness) And, "This isn't due to anything I did. It's due to others." (Personalization)  Here are my notes for the book - so far.

When I keep reading, I realize that staying pessimistic can (and probably will) make me physically sick. My immunity would be lower. When I keep thinking about my actions being futile, I go back to thinking of all I'm grateful for. One thing I'm grateful for is being able to see the "wins" in my days in the classroom with the children. As I said, I've come to accept I won't be the teacher I've been striving to be the last 26 years - so I can notice, recognize, and take the moment to pause and appreciate the small wins in each class. This has helped me KNOW that not EVERYTHING I do is futile. No. We matter. We are important to our students. And they, my friend, are why we're in this profession. Even if we think we suck as teachers (and really, I do think that right now), we still have value, and we are still making a difference in one, two, who knows how many students' minds or hearts? In a typical year, we never know who we've impacted, so in that way, this year is no different. We keep loving the students and doing the best with the situation we are in, while knowing there's no crystal ball where we can see how they're going to do in the future. 

I've been rambling a bit. Let me summarize while adding one last thing I'm trying this year:
  1. It's okay to feel how we do. It's normal during this time. You are not alone. Come talk to me; I'll listen and empathize with you. I've learned how to not bring your problems home with me (secondary traumatic stress).
  2. Do something you love - something that fulfills you - outside of school. Find a passion or hobby or two that you used to do. Something that makes you happy. (Keep your immunity up.)
  3. Know that you matter. Every year. Your love for the children is shining through, no matter how strict you are this year, no matter that you're tethered to the laptop and can't see or hear what's going on in front of you... You matter.
  4. Set one intention for yourself for the next day, week, or month (if it's working well). Multitasking is too difficult right now. What's ONE thing you can do to help yourself?
And this leads me to what I do every week - #4. I set one intention for myself. It's one thing I keep reminding myself of every time I get frustrated, stop to breathe, want to scream or cry... I didn't write them down, but I do remember thinking and using them, because they worked. Here are some that I've tried:

  • Drink water.
  • Breathe.
  • I am healthy. Those I love are healthy.
  • I have a job with insurance.
  • I am enough.
  • I am fair, and I am kind.
  • Use a quiet voice. (That way my students will listen more.)
  • Use wait time.
  • Stand up straight. (I slouch WAY too much.)
  • Don't complain.
  • Right here. Right now. Is all that matters.
  • What's good about this right now?
  • Connect with one student.
  • Soak up this moment. Notice all that is around me.
  • No social media.
  • Stop ruminating. Act. Do something for yourself.
  • What am I learning in this moment right now?
  • This is temporary. (This is mine for this coming week.)
My birthday was in January (just before my last breakdown), and my sister had heard me say, "I try one new thought a week." She bought these "mindful marks," which are temporary tattoos. I put a new one on my wrist every week. No matter the design, it reminds me of my intention. This coming week, when I look at my wrist, I will think, "This is temporary. This will end some day. See it for what it is."
No one needs to go buy these. I was able to focus on one intention a week before I received them. A ring can work. A bracelet. A Sharpie mark on the skin. A sticky note. A photo in your classroom. Your keys. You get the idea. No student has asked me about the tattoo, but teachers have. When a teacher asks, I can tell them about my intention for the week, and maybe it will help us both.

Now that you've stuck with me until this point, what's ONE thing - just ONE thing you will take away from this post? ONE thing you can bring into your week (or month, if it's working) that will help you continue? We really can only do ONE thing at a time. After I hit "publish" on this post, I'm not going to ruminate on our current situation - because I'm focusing on the fact that it's temporary. I'm going to do what's good for me right NOW, whether that be a shower, a walk, gardening, snuggling, reading, singing at the top of my lungs... And I will do that ONE thing with gusto. I will soak up every moment of it. When I get back into the classroom tomorrow, I'll do ONE thing at a time. And I'll do that one thing as best as I can under the hand we've been dealt.

Sunday, April 18, 2021

Two Good Stories from My Week

Story #1

Our last day all remote, April 12, even though our MOU says our district is staying remote on Mondays... I put my laptop on my raised table, as I stand on our remote days. I am able to sing loudly, dance, and be overall more ME on Mondays, so I use the raised table. Even though I remember to plug in the document camera and the dongle to my other screen, I guess I don't plug in the charger. I only realize this when everything turns off in the middle of my sentence. I lose everyone and everything. I swear (no worries - I'm not in front of any 12-13-year-olds at the moment). I plug it in, turn it on, and the new host (we'll call him Harvey) lets me in right away. I turn on the chat and I see a peer (we'll call him Hank) type in "Do the right thing, [Harvey]." Suddenly I start observing what I didn't even think I should be observing - some fear in some children's eyes, some relief, some confusion... and another student unmutes and asks, "Mrs. Kirr, can you put my camera back on? [Harvey] turned it off." I asked the class if there was something they felt they needed to share with me. I asked for direct messages if something needs to be said, and no one said anything. Harvey had already made me the host, and so we proceeded with the lesson. The next day, I was sure to head over to Harvey and Hank and thank them for whatever they prevented. Such maturity. I'm so proud of them.

Story #2

In one class, I have one student (out of two) who is consistently a minute or two (or more) late to the Zoom. The other was on the absent list. I opened the Zoom, put it half-way over the Jamboard warm up projected on the screen, greeted the in-person students, and waited for the tone to signal this student had arrived. The phone rang - it was the office saying that the one student was trying to get on the Zoom link. I told her it's open, so we'll look for them. Then one student told me to look at the Jamboard. Looking up, the entire thing was covered by a large (virtual) sticky note. It said, "We're trying to get into the Zoom!!" I'd done it. 120+ days into the school year, I'd started the wrong Zoom link. What a great way to get your teacher to know something!! Kudos to those two (yup - the one was suddenly not absent) for their quick thinking!

I love these stories. I had to document them, while still hoping we don't have Zoom open next year.

Thursday, April 15, 2021

Trauma

Today was traumatic. To my students. To me. I'm learning to recognize trauma. (Oh, what I've learned this year.) I feel the need to document it, so I needed to carve out time to write about it. Today the trauma of teaching in a pandemic (let's compound this with the others) showed up like this:

  • Wanting to cry on my way to school.
  • Wanting to cry before homeroom.
  • Two people with a six-foot long white stick/pvc pipe heading into class saying, "Don't mind me."
  • Students' worry and whispers and blurt outs about who is it? Who's going home? Who sits here next period? What if I go home? Who else will go? What if all my friends are here and I'm home? I have to tell them, "You've just witnessed part of what they call 'contact tracing,'" and that "It's part of what it means to live during a pandemic."
I wrote while the measurements were taking place - I wrote alongside my students and shared with each class.

    The principal and the nurse.
    They walked in with a pole.
    THE pole.
    Six feet long.
    I want to cry.
        This means more students at home.
        This means group work for those students in all their classes - is out the window.
        This means more isolation.
        This means more worry.
        This means back to double-masking for some.
        This means it's still out there.
        This means... oh crap.
    I'm tired of all of this.
    I'm tired of getting hopeful, and then getting punched in the gut once again.
    I'm sick of the sickness... and the deaths... and the violence... and the racism... and my own feelings from day to day.
        I'm working on myself.
        I'm aware this is temporary,
            even if we're in our second year of a pandemic.
        I'm aware that I've felt this way before, and I'll feel this way again.
    Maybe this afternoon will be better.
    Every minute is a fresh start.
    I'm going to put on my good attitude now. This minute.
        Are you with me?
    Let's stay socially distanced as much as possible,
        let's not cluster together at home or in the classroom,
        let's keep our masks over our mouth and nose, and
        let's stay positive 
            about trying to stay negative 
            for COVID.
  • A colleague with their head in their hands before eating lunch.
  • After lunch, eight of my students are at home with their cameras off - instead of two.
  • A phone call during class - three more students are going home.
  • Red faces, cries of "Why me?!" and then collection of belongings.
  • "What? Aw, man!"
  • Me saying, "It's a pandemic. You are resilient," then needing to explain "resilient," using a rubber band that BROKE when I stretched it a bit! Oh, the eyes above their masks showing their shock... Great job, Joy.
  • Me, also saying, "You'll be fine. You've done this before, you can do it again. We'll get through this. You'll be home. You're good." Part of me thinking, "This is what we get for being three feet apart. Back to hybrid."
  • The rest of us walk around the school. We growl and scream. We come back in the building, and I show them where, on my Bitmoji classroom, our "stress reducers" are. I hadn't needed to show them until today. Students chose - look at the sand, the seeds growing, and the breathing videos. We practiced relaxing for ten minutes.
  • I then did a check in with my students, using the mood meter we use every Monday. Many students at home said, "annoyed," and I validated everyone's feelings.
  • One of my students started sharing, someone interrupted, I finally got back to her, and then she said, "No, I'm done sharing. May I go take a break?" I was heartbroken.
  • I got the rest of the class reading (it's ELA, you know), letting them know that reading is also a stress-reducer, should you have a good book. 
  • I waited by the door for her to come back. I waited a long time. When she got back, I had her sit on the floor in the hallway next to me. She started crying. She feels alone in most of her classes since her schedule change (months ago), she feels as if she doesn't know what anyone's talking about (I was able to understand that!), and she says she feels ignored. I listened as good as I ever have. When she stopped talking, she stopped crying. I finally said, "I see you. I hear you. You matter. And I know that the others are louder than you are. They get more of my attention. But when YOU speak, I get so excited, and I really want to hear what you say." I don't remember much else, except that she said, "I feel better now," (Bless her!!), and I told her we could sit in the hall ANY day.
Today was one more piece of trauma from this school year like no other.
Educators are taking care of the children. Like we always do. 
The lessons learned aren't all academic in nature. Like always. 

Our students are learning resilience, patience, time management, love, and that actions = consequences... I'm learning how to teach two classes at the same time, survive over a year in a pandemic, pick myself up (again and again), support colleagues better, recognize inequities, consider others' perspectives, and ride the waves of stress. It's just so difficult. I'm not comparing it to others; I'm simply sharing this one day in my career.

I'm thankful for all I still have. I'm thankful for those small, precious quality moments with my students. I'll write about those another day.

Sunday, April 11, 2021

Day 394 - Random Thoughts

Such feelings this school year. 
Such a sad year for so many people.
Nurses, doctors, parents, children, minorities, those without choices...
At day 394, I'm in a slump. 
I've been here before, and I'll be here again.
I'm am a very privileged person, so I'm trying not to complain.
I'll just add some recent sights and thoughts and leave it at that today.
I'm not okay, yet I know I'll be okay.



Principals speaking up for educators.

Yes, I'm vaccinated. No, I'm still not eating inside restaurants.
Yes, I can still catch and carry the virus, or a new strain of it.

The value of teachers

The vilification of teachers

Pulled Apart

Stretched Thin - Almost Breaking

July - Our school district is going full in. I bought scrubs and got advice from my older cousin who's a surgeon. August - Nope. Our school district will begin remotely. AND... we're not changing a thing. We'll teach the new curriculum we were going to, have a time schedule just like "regular" school. AND... be sure to provide screen breaks. AND... just love the kids. September 1-4, 2020 = the hardest week of my 25+ years of teaching. How can I teach children I don't know through a screen? End of September - I'm getting into a groove. I know most of my students. I'm using the technology learned to do things I could NOT do during a typical school year. October 12 = The start of hybrid. This means these things have to be done simultaneously: Take temperatures at the door, let in remote students, make sure students at home and at school can see and hear the lesson, clean the tables each period, don't get close to the students, monitor the hallways, make sure students are six feet apart, have engaging activities for home and at school, take mask breaks while staying at least six feet apart... We were told #1 is safety. #2 is connection. #3 is instruction. Um, yeah. 'Cuz we CAN'T DO ANY MORE. Mondays remotely became my favorite day of the week, as I could check in on kids 1:1 without other students listening. Kids could send me direct messages - and I'd SEE them. December 2 in the afternoon - my middle school will be remote until December 15th. Then we'll went back to hybrid for four days before the two week winter break. Woops! Remote again until January 19th. OH! And then "all in" January 21st on. Except for the 18% at my school who are remote still. Why not change ONE MORE TIME?! Mondays will not not be remote starting the week of April 26. 

Meanwhile, my inbox is full of student emails. Even though they were just in class with me.

Throughout all this, my students... Some I cannot reach via direct message or verbally. Some are always there, asking questions and sharing stories. When some get to school and give me grief, I am much stricter than I've ever been, because I will not let them add that to my plate. All are caring and respectful most times. Overall, it's a sweet group - that really just wants to socialize. It's very tough to get instruction in, but I do hope we learn at least one lesson every period. 

Throughout all this, sprinkles of emails from parents thanking me for all I'm doing. Telling me to stay safe. I had a hard time holding back tears during parent conferences when a parent would ask me, "How are YOU doing?" Not good. But no worries - I'll still love your child. I'm still putting on my show and doing my very best. Sprinkles of students sharing with me - letting me know they know I believe they matter. Sprinkles of good notes to students, thanking them for all their contributions to class.

One parent - Remote learning is too difficult for my child.

Another parent - How are you challenging my child?

Another parent - My child needs to go to school to socialize with peers. 

Administration - Safety and connection come first. 

Parent - Why isn't my child doing more work?

BoE - Let's bring in 18-year-olds who want jobs to supervise classrooms.

Nation - Yes, we'll have standardized testing this year. (Who used last year's data to drive instruction this year? No one. And who will be at fault when scores aren't improved from last year? Educators.)



And then there's this. More truth.

From Chanea


I learned this term doing required professional development - on my own time.
Yup.



I'm tired.

I'm sad.

My voice is not being listened to. Twenty six years of experience doesn't matter. Being a National Board Certified teacher doesn't matter. Caring about my students doesn't seem to matter. (Hopefully it matters to them.) If I stop sharing my views, does that mean "they" won? I'm done fighting for now. They must know I can't keep up the fight. My resources are depleted. Even getting these random thoughts down has drained me emotionally. I need to be there for my family, and then be there tomorrow for my students.

I'm going to stay off social media, where we see parents posting how they "can add 4th grade teacher to my resume." No. No you can't. I have no clue what you're going through, and you have no clue what I'm going through. I'm going to read to gather more perspectives, and I'm going to keep my focus on your children, so that they can learn to love and be compassionate towards one another.

Let's all love one another. That means listening to one another and trying to work together. I can do that without sharing it for all to see. If you need me, you know how to find me. Reach out, and I'll do what I can. I'll be doing what I can for my 75 students in the room and at home, and when I get my energy back, I'll do what I can for the future of our nation.

If you've read this far, please check out my newest (2018) LiveBinder to help make a difference in our world: tinyurl.com/AntiracistLB 

Saturday, March 13, 2021

Day 365 - Lessons Learned

My district shut down our schools at the end of the day a year ago today. We've had students in the building since October 12th (minus an outbreak shutdown), and we've been "all in" (still teaching remote students concurrently) since January 19, 2021. The teacher across the hall has as many as 24 students in class at one time (with more on Zoom).

Anyway... I started writing in my velvet-covered journal I've had since 2000 (along with this blog), and I've got a few pages dedicated to lessons I've learned during the lockdown and the year we've just been through. Some are sentences, and some are fragments. I wanted to document them on my blog, as well. Sticking to the order they were written, here they are (so far):

  • Some (most?) people are social beings.
  • I respond well to praise.
  • what "social distancing" is
  • how to host a Zoom meeting
  • how to record and upload using Zoom or QuickTime
  • Don't ask Hubby for anything for at least 20 min after his nap.
  • I'm comfortable with myself.
  • what a "skin" is in golf (5/17/20 - Live golf is on TV!)
  • Challenges are good for us. They help us grow.
  • what a friend is
  • I've got few solid friends. The rest I'm letting go.
  • It feels good to reach out.
  • I'm not a sociable person - I'm doing okay without all the contact. A few people I can let in. I can even tell them - we just disagree.
  • I love writing when I have something to write about. (Hence this blog, Shift This, and Word Shift.) The kids need space to write about something they want to write about!
  • Sometimes I can change my ways (writing in a calendar/planner in pencil).
  • how to make hot milk cake
  • You have to click on the bell in order to get a notification for YouTube accounts you subscribe to.
  • how to use WeVideo
  • how to make Instagram stories
  • to appreciate even more (how can that be?) ... like a new jar of peanut butter or a new jar of olives
  • Hubby doesn't enjoy "heavy" movies.
  • When I get into something, I really need to learn and share more. It becomes pretty all-encompassing.
  • I realized that there are so many things I love doing! (Thanks to the box challenge from Karen.)
  • I'm going back to some of the things I used to love years ago.
  • how to put GIFs on/in my texts
  • Staying positive - with helpful links - is the way to go on Twitter.
  • specific ways to be anti-racist
  • how to put my gifs of me into a slideshow
  • to be happy with who I am - as long as I'm trying my best
  • I have a confident presence on Zoom calls (so I've been told).
  • A haircut is a luxury - and can make you feel whole again.
  • I'll never go back to long hair (if I can help it).
  • I can leave spider webs alone (outside).
  • I can NOT scratch mosquito bites.
  • I enjoy simply sitting outside and observing. Just being.
  • I enjoy simply watching the birds at the backyard feeder.
  • I don't want to ride my bike to and from school if it's as stressful as the one time I rode home from school this summer. Plus, I have a vehicle I love to drive.
  • I have a few really good friends outside of Hubby.
  • A card in the mail goes a long way - for the sender and the receiver.
  • Hubby and I miss restaurants because we like to sit at the bar and chat with the bartenders and other patrons - and hot food served to us is a luxury.
  • to NOT talk politics with my parents
  • I love our sycamore tree.
  • A friend of mine feels better when I can get her laughing.
  • Everyone has their own preference for masks, set up, teaching, etc.
  • how to teach remotely - Zoom, doc camera, projecting, making connections, etc. (Remember, friends, when some of us said we'd rather take a year off than teach remotely?!?!)
  • Have ONE priority. The word was meant to be singular. Mine = my health (physical & mental) Everything else has to come after that.
  • "I did my part," quote from Hubby. I only have to worry about what I do.
  • to do what I think I should do.
  • When you open a document, wait for it to load before you start to scroll down - it will save you tons of frustration and be easier on your elbow. (It also gives you time to breathe.)
  • how to get addicted post to TikTok
  • If someone can sober up in 2020, I can continue to have a positive outlook and do what's right.
  • Actions speak louder than words.
  • Raise up / amplify BIPOC voices.
  • Compliment others.
  • Learn something from big challenges like this has been.
  • how to play Among Us
  • Children like to be in school.
  • A walk outside is so good for my soul.
  • I need to recognize others' feelings.
  • When I next meet or talk with someone who is crabby, I'll be sorry that they're in a bad place. I recognize that bad place now - where nothing good happens. I've been there. I can stop and listen.
  • Having worry, being in pain, problems with friends... those all weigh on people. When it happens to me, they make me dis- or mis-trust. Our principal told me in September... she always assumes best intent. Assume the kids want to do good.
  • That feeling you have now? It will go away. And it will most likely come back again. And I'll have the ability to survive all the changes. I have the tools. 
  • Listening to others makes them feel good.
  • Songs I can dance to make me feel good.
  • I CAN put down the phone. I do not use up all my will power at work. There is always more.
  • I don't miss presenting; I do miss sharing my "why" for things I believe with other educators.
  • I cannot wait for others to do something for me - only I can help myself. It's up to me.
  • Taking one or two deep breaths in the classroom helps me focus on what's important.
  • It's human to not know what I'm doing, to hurt, to be happy, to FEEL. I'm going through all the feels. This is called "living."
  • It's okay if that life is hard. We can do hard things.
  • I don't have to waste time worrying what others think of me. I just have to like who I am becoming. I will always be becoming. It's a journey that continues every day.
  • I will make mistakes. I hope I learn from them.
  • I, personally, learn the most through my mistakes. Although I hope I make fewer and fewer, I will always love learning.

Photo shared by friend Andi Kornowski, linked to Positive Energy+